A large circus tent-like assembly occupied the dirt plot of land near the city wall. The bright purple color of the cloth was eye-catching and certainly portrayed the wealth that the owner of the temporary structure. A gentle breeze caused a small ripple to echo across the taunt cloth, though the loose flaps that served as a door were more expressive. The breeze also carried the scent of fear that came from within the tent.

It was in front of this tent that an unusual looking man stood staring at the place. The scowl that was on his face seemed to suggest that the tent, or rather those within, had somehow offended the man. Said face was not ostensibly handsome, and could only be described as average. He had a short beard that made it look like perhaps he had not shaved in several days, which he admittedly had not, but that was more due to a slow growth rate than his shaving habits. A somewhat oversized tophat sat upon his head, threatening at any moment to perhaps slip further over his head and obscure his brown, beady eyes. He also currently wore finely tailored black pants with a crisp, white dress shirt and black vest. He held a decorative cane in one hand and pocket watch in the other.

Glancing at the watch, he led out a breathy ‘hmm’ before snapping it shut and returning it to his vest pocket. Stepping towards the tent, the man used his cane to push one of the flaps aside as he stepped inside.

“Good day, sir,” a greasy looking man greeted the tailored suit wearing man.

The greeter sat in a basic wooden chair at a basic wooden table that only held a worn looking ledger with ink and quill nearby. The hint of selfish greed reflected in the man’s eye as he examined the tailored suit wearing man.

“Owner. Now,” commanded the tailored man.

The surety and force with which he spoke caused the greeter to pause, but after a moment he slipped away from his post and disappeared through an internal flap.

“Honestly this sort of place disgusts me,” murmured the tailored man to himself, “This was his last chance anyway.”

With that, the tailored man tapped the end of his cane on the ground twice. A silvery mist seemed to radiate off of the man, emerging from his suit and hat. The mist swirled about him once before spreading out and dissipating.

Just after the mist had done so, the greasy man returned followed by a man wearing a bright purple robe that matched the tent everyone was within. The man in purple took one look at the tailored man and would have paled were it not for his tanned skin.

“Mr. A!” stammered the man in purple.

“Mr. Aslam,” replied the tailored man, “I believe I told you what would happen if I found your business again.”

Sweat quickly pooled on Aslam’s forehead.

“You… wouldn’t. Not within the city!” Aslam practically cried.

“You think the guard will stop me?” countered Mr. A.

Aslam swallowed nervously.

“Precisely. Now, you will show me your ‘merchandise’ before I make sure you never do business again.”

“What I do is legal! I have done nothing wrong!”

“What is legal is not what is moral, Mr. Aslam. I gave you your one warning, and you have elected to ignore it.”

The greasy man was equally nervous about this conversation between his boss, Aslam, and this mysterious Mr. A. His hand slipped into the folds of his tunic and he pulled out the strange object said boss had given him shortly after joining, pointing it at Mr. A. Said target turned towards the man.

“You dare raise my weapons against me? How ingenious of you Aslam. I must commend your efforts. But alas your own employee here has made a terrible mistake.”

Tapping his cane once, the silvery mist gathered around the greasy man, shielding him from view in an instant. There was a small pop sound, and the mist dispersed again. As it did, the greasy man was no longer present. Instead, his empty clothing collapsed into a pile with the weapon in question landing silently on top.

Mr. A took a few steps over to the pile and picked up the weapon. Aslam stood in silent shock, unable to run in terror or confront the man who just killed his employee with magic.

“I have counters to guns anyways,” sighed Mr. A as he examined the weapon, a revolver, that the greasy man had attempted to use.

“What… what magic was that?” Aslam finally squeaked.

“Magic? That wasn’t magic. I will show you my magic later. Those were nanomachines.”

“Nan… what?”

“Nanomachines. I don’t expect you to understand, nor do I feel like explaining to someone who will not see the sunset. Take me to the slaves you are trying to sell, now.”

Aslam felt he had no choice now. Being told of your imminent death can have a somewhat cathartic effect on fear of it. As such, Aslam led Mr. A into the back area of the tent.

The scene within was enough to send shivers down the spine of most anyone that saw it. Dozens of box cages were scattered around, within sat anywhere from three to ten beings of many races, including humans, elves, dwarves, and beastfolk. There was even a massive ogre with a thick chain around its neck which was staked to the ground, since none of the cages fit the creature. Every single one of these beings was emaciated from whatever pitiful food they had been given to just keep them alive. Many looked pale with unknown illnesses as well.

Mr. A stopped in the center of the tent and glanced at the misery around him. His blank face had been scowling, but now looked quite sour and angry at the same time. He turned back to Aslam.

“You could never suffer enough for the misery you cause.”

“Please…,” begged Aslam.

Mr. A tapped the cane again, but did not bother to watch the nanomachines completely disintegrate another person. Instead he began sweeping through the cages as though looking for someone in particular. Every single one of the slaves watched the man who had just eliminated their cruel master without a word. After all, a man who could do that to him could just as easily do it to them. It was also noted by the slaves that the man spent more time looking at the women among them as opposed to the men, the latter of which were few in number anyway. After examining all of the slaves, Mr. A returned to the center of the tent and spoke.

“Congratulations. You are all now free people once again. Or for the first time. The difference matters little to me. However, before you depart I would like to offer some of you a chance to work for me. You are free to decline if you so choose. I ask only that those of you who do not take up the offer share the ill gotten profits of Aslam’s venture here with your fellows as you join the world of the free.”

With a tap of his cane yet again, the nanomachines swarmed to disintegrate the cages, chains, and shackles that kept the now former slaves bound. Several began to weep in gratitude, while a few of the children ran to their mothers or in one case father, and even a separated couple embraced each other for the first time in who knew how long.

“I have a total of eight positions available. Five will be an adventuring party and three are for the storefront of the latest expansion of my company. I offer shelter and food to my employees on site, with the adventuring parties being compensated when they return for such expenses. I will warn you, primarily for those that take the adventuring positions, there is a risk of death with the position. All positions are not local, so those wishing to remain here are discouraged from applying. If anyone still is interested in these job offerings, I will be here to answer questions.”

With that, Mr. A sat in a chair that seemed to magically appear out of thin air that was made out of nanomachines. A floating tablet of nanomachines appeared before him as yet more brought the ledger from the front table to him. He idlily began flipping through the pages. Cautiously, several of the former slaves approached Mr. A and asked various questions of him.

A short while later, after several shouts of joy and happy grins, but with even more disappointed and dejected faces, eight individuals helped Mr. A distribute the gold coins that Aslam’s slave trading business had acquired from some of their fellow slaves being sold.

“With that, I bid you all ado. Please ruthlessly crush any such any further slave traders you may come across,” Mr. A said as he swept out of the tent, followed by the eight people that had been chosen.

The group totaled five women and three men. One man and one woman were human, one man and another woman were elves, two women were a cat and fox beastfolk respectively, while the last man was a dwarf and the last woman a gnome. Each was between the ages of 19 and 57, with the dwarf and elves holding those older ages while the youngest was the fox beastfolk.

Though each of the eight former slaves were still emaciated and wearing little more than rags, there was a sense of optimism. As Mr. A kept walking though, the group started getting more and more nervous as they drew closer to the noble’s district. They had seen firsthand that he was a powerful individual, and started to individually wonder if he was some sort of nobleman given his fancy attire. However, he stopped at the last possible road before the checkpoint into the noble’s district and continued on to a fantastic looking structure.

The building was three stories tall and except for the roof was made entirely out of small, red, rectangular bricks. Its size made the structure the largest on the street. The front had a solid, ornate wooden door featuring an engraving of both the store’s name and a decorative plant pattern upon it. An impossibly sized panel of actual glass filled the rest of the first level’s front face, easily allowing someone to peer within from the outside. Several smaller windows on the second and third floors dotted the building, each also holding real glass panes within them. It seemed that curtains within blocked clear views of the inside through these smaller windows.

Mr. A opened the front door and motioned the others inside. A few felt sheepish about entering such a fancy building, especially given their current state, but Mr. A reassured them that it was quite alright. Once inside, the interior was rather extravagant.

A golden chandelier hung from the ceiling, which seemed much taller than the exterior’s structure indicated, that had no candles or oil lamps offering the illumination. Instead they could see small glass orbs emitting the light that shined on everything else. Several mannequins in the front window displayed unusual clothing, one much like the suit Mr. A was wearing. Shelves around the room displayed various curiosities and knick-knacks, many of which the former slaves could not identify. A rack behind one of two counters held various weapons and shields, with another few mannequins displaying armors of various types. The counter in front of the weapons was made of glass and held more weapons that none of the slaves recognized, but all were various types of guns like the one Mr. A had reclaimed earlier. The other counter was also made of glass and gave off a chill. Inside were various foods, primarily meats, that looked fresh. Even fish, which was impossible to get fresh here given the landlocked nature of the city, was on display and was sitting in the icy counter. There were also breads, fruits, and vegetables nearby also on display. A shelf full of jewels and gems was lined up behind the food counter.

A young human woman and a, at least apparently, young elven woman were apparently the staff here as they were dressed in matching outfits. These outfits were white, long-sleeved dress shirts with a dark, forest green vest over top embroidered with yellow lettering which suggested both the women’s names and the store’s name. Tan colored skirts dropped past their knees. Black leather belts shined with their own glint as they marked the transition from top to bottom. The only difference between the two staff were their shoes, with the elven woman wearing brown leather sandals while the human woman wore black shoes of an unfamiliar material.

“Good afternoon, sir!” both women called out simultaneously as Mr. A followed the group in.

“Thank you, ladies,” Mr. A replied.

He proceeded through a door to a back room, again motioning for the slaves to follow. They were equally urged on by the two staff, who gave them all genuine smiles as they passed. Mr. A paused in this back room and waited for everyone except the two staff to join him.

In the back room, there was a staircase that must have led up to the second floor in the back right corner. The stairs were covered in some sort of short, green fur that matched the vests of the women out front. There was a rack with about twenty pairs of footwear next to the base of the stairway. There was a small room just past the door to the back room off to the left, though what was in it was unclear. The main feature, or features rather, were the pair of archways made of stone and metal. Both glowed from within the frames, with the one on the left glowing a sort of golden yellow and the one on the right glowing an ocean blue. It was important to note that there were no windows to the outside in this back room.

Mr. A spread his arms wide, as if to hug someone, and nodded his head in greeting.

“Welcome to each one of you. Welcome to the Portal Trading Company.”