Chapter Text
Jayce had never been to the shadier parts of the market before, but he needed to buy some nearly illegal material for his newest experiment.
He walked down an unfamiliar alleyway, keeping his eyes on the ground. Was the project worth this amount of effort?
Yes, he reasoned. This project is revolutionary, even if they can’t see it now. I just need to prove it-
That was when he heard the sound. It wasn’t so much a scream, more like a wounded dog that had been kicked in the stomach.
Instinctively, Jayce looked up to see the origin of the sound. A large, beefy woman was hoisting an axe up on her shoulders. At her feet, evidently kicked to the ground, was a frail man. This man was not a pleasant sight— he looked like he hadn’t slept or eaten in days. His untrimmed brown hair was plastered down against either side of his face, and his face was gaunt and stretched thin. As if to provide a form of protection from the woman, the man held up his hands, and Jayce’s breath caught at the sight of chains encircling his wrists.
Jayce was still observing the man in silent horror when a foot came crashing between the man’s shoulder blades, pinning him down against a wooden chopping block. The axe, the chopping block, the small crowd that had slowly gathered around him, excited for violence— Jayce connected the dots just as the woman began to raise her axe high above her head-
“The hell’s your problem?!”
The woman looked up at the crowd, eyes narrowed, but she lowered the axe to rest on her shoulders. “Who said that, and what’s your deal?”
“Why are you doing this?” Against his better judgment, Jayce stepped out. “Is he a condemned prisoner?”
“Condemned priso-“ The woman laughed derisively. “This bastard thinks my wares are prisoners. Why don’t you check where you are?”
Jayce followed her gaze to the sign above the tent. It read, in bright blue shiny lettering, The Barrel: Quality Slaves for Labour.
Jayce swallowed. He had heard of slaves, of course. But none of his family or friends had ever owned a slave, and most noblemen kept them at home as a pet or servant. He had never seen a slave, let alone a slave market.
“Oh.” Jayce began wondering if he should leave the situation alone. After all, he was out of his depth here and had no knowledge of how to navigate-
The man on the chopping block gave a choked whimper, but the shopkeeper just pushed down harder with her foot. The man went silent, hands raising to scrape uselessly at her boot. Jayce could see the man’s hands shaking, could hear the chains rattling as they clinked against the metal collar encircling the man’s neck.
Jayce’s fear disappeared, replaced by a strange emotion. When he spoke, his voice was surprisingly calm. “If you are in the business of selling slaves, why are you trying to kill this man?”
“Kill?” The woman looked incredulously at him. “I’m simply getting rid of a defective product.”
Jayce did his best to ignore the fact that she had just referred to the man as a product.
She saw his hesitation and gave a good-natured chuckle, putting down the axe. “Look, since the crowd wants a show, lemme just show you.”
Stepping off the man’s back, she hoisted the man up with one hand. As soon as the man was at eye-level, she let go.
For a brief moment, the man stood, eyes unfocused and blinking wearily. Then his right knee buckled, and he collapsed to the ground. The crowd erupted in jeers, and Jayce felt the knot in his stomach tighten.
“It got broken during transport.” She spread her hands jovially, smiling at the crowd’s rapt attention. “At the Barrel, we pride ourselves on our quality control, so there’s really no use keeping this one around.”
Taking advantage of her distraction, the man began shuffling backward, away from the woman. She looked down, a dangerous glint of amusement in her eyes.
“Aren’t you a sneaky one?” Bending down, she easily caught ahold of his trailing chains. “Come. Back. Here.”
With every word, she forcefully tugged on the chains. The man seemed to break a little more with every yank—his hands shaking as he desperately tried to shake her off—but she relentlessly pulled him forward. The crowd murmured and giggled and spat cold humiliation. No longer did the shopkeeper carry an air of impatience; at the crowd’s encouragement, she was taking her sweet time. Jayce was struck by the image of a cat slowly toying with a mouse, and he felt nauseous at the thought. After what felt like an eternity, she finally pulled the man till he was face-to-face with her. He turned his face away-
And made direct eye contact with Jayce.
It took Jayce a second to realize that the man was mouthing something— the same word, over and over and over again.
Please.
Please.
Please.
Please.
Tears streaked down the man’s cheeks, tracing lines down his dirt-caked face. Jayce couldn’t take it anymore; the knot in his stomach bloomed into a protective rage.
“I’ll take him.”
Jayce’s words were met with silence, but the man stilled.
Tearing his eyes away from the man, Jayce forced his eyes to meet the shopkeeper’s, raising his voice. “I said, I’ll take him.”
To Jayce’s satisfaction, she seemed to falter. “What?”
“Aren’t you a slave shop? I want to buy him.”
The shopkeeper slowly got up, tossing the man’s chains to the ground. “You wanna buy the defect?”
“I do. Name your price.”
“Before we start our lil’ bargain, lemme instill some gratitude into the goods.”
She snapped her fingers twice, and the man scrambled into a kneeling position, wincing as his right knee struggled to hold up his weight. Apparently unsatisfied, she stomped on the chain connected to his collar, forcing his face to the ground.
A surge of hot anger pressed against Jayce’s chest, and it took all his willpower to fight it down. He could not rush up and force her to let go. He had to stand his ground; he had to bide his time. The man’s life was at stake.
Taking a deep breath, Jayce took a few steps forward, forcing a conversational tone. “How much?”
“500 hexes.”
Jayce hesitated. He had enough in his pockets; that was the exact amount he had been planning to spend at this black market. However, that was all his savings, everything that he had carefully portioned for his new design. For months, he had saved a percentage of every commission and project, and he had finally managed to save enough to buy the needed materials. This invention was supposed to be his big breakthrough, his straight shot from the polite society of Piltover straight into the inventors’ inner circles.
Also, he had a distinct impression that the shopkeeper was scamming him. He couldn’t confirm it, but something about the smug look in her eye, the amusement, the way the crowd had started whispering at her price. Perhaps he should try to bargain. After all, 500 hexes for a healthy, unharmed slave might have made sense, but for-
Jayce caught a glimpse of the man, and every thought of retreating vanished. From this distance, Jayce could see that the man’s whole body was trembling, his limbs curled up and his right knee bent at a wrong angle. The woman’s foot was still planted on the chain connected to his collar, and his hands cupped her shoe, making useless attempts to push it away. A sense of guilt crept in. Did I just consider haggling over a life? Did I really think about prioritizing my invention over his survival?
“Deal.” Jayce took the bag of gold out of his pocket. “500 hexes.”
The shopkeeper bared her teeth at him, eyes wild with glee as he placed the bag in her open hand. Completely distracted by the money, she stepped off the man’s chain, weighing the pouch in her hand. Jayce was half-expecting the man to make a run for it, but he stayed in place, kneeling with his forehead on the ground.
“This seems ‘bout right.” Seemingly satisfied with the amount, she glanced up at the crowd and waved her empty hand. “Show’s over, go away and stop blocking my business.”
Jayce looked back and saw the crowd slowly starting to move on. When he looked back at the shopkeeper, he was disgusted to see a sickeningly sweet smile plastered on her face.
“Oh please-” She hustled over to the tent’s entrance, pulling up its flap and gesturing dramatically to it. “-Forgive my manners, dear customer! Why don’t you come in and sit down while I go confirm the amount and grab the paperwork?”
“No,” Jayce said simply. “Go and fulfill the necessary procedures. I’ll wait here.”
The shopkeeper hesitated; for a brief second, Jayce was sure she would start questioning him. But she just shrugged and disappeared into the tent.
Jayce let out a breath he didn’t even know he had been holding. A few steps away, the man kneeled quietly. He seemed a little too still.
“I… uh, you good?” Jayce faltered as his anger simmered into worry. It was easy to keep it together in front of the shopkeeper, but Jayce’s anger was useless in front of the man. How was Jayce supposed to approach him?
The man offered no response to Jayce’s verbal and mental questions. In fact, he showed no indication that he had heard Jayce at all.
Jayce took a few tentative steps forward and sunk to his own knees. If he was going to communicate with this man, he had to be at the other person’s level.
Jayce reached out—then he thought better of it and retracted his hand. “Uh… My name is Jayce, what’s your name?”
No response.
“You’re safe, by the way. I’m not going to let them hurt you. I guess they did already, and I’m sorry that they, uh, did, but I won’t let them do it again and-”
No, stop ranting, that’s not what he needs right now. Jayce chided himself. He nearly died, he doesn’t need to hear all about-
“What in the bloody hells are you doing?”
Jayce looked up sharply. The shopkeeper stood at the entrance of the tent, hands full of paperwork and face scrunched in absolute disgust.
Before Jayce could speak, she continued.
“Kneeling in front of the-” She closed her eyes and raised a hand as if to wave away a bad smell. “You know what, I don’t care. I don’t wanna know.”
Jayce got up as the shopkeeper approached with the paperwork.
She shoved it into his hands, carelessly flipping through the files and monotonously reciting a script. “Sign here, here, here, and here. I should also let you know that we have a year-long guarantee for our wares. Our shop prizes itself on quality, so if the goods breaks before one year with normal usage, you can return it for up to an 80% refund— terms and conditions apply. Of course, this excludes the defect that this one already has…”
Fighting the urge to slap her, Jayce took the papers and began scanning the documents.
While he read through the paperwork and signed his name, the shopkeeper droned on. She talked about the terms and conditions and the proper “feeding routine,” but then something caught Jayce’s attention. “...I should also let you know that since this is an imported product, it will not have documents here in Piltover. If it gets lost, it may be deported by local Wardens.”
Jayce perked up. “So he could go back to his home country?” And he could be free?
“It has official slave documents back in its country.” The shopkeeper spotted the look of confusion on Jayce’s face and continued. “I mean, it would just become the government’s property, ‘cause it’d be a slave with no owner.”
Of course. Jayce signed in the last of the required spaces, and the shopkeeper snatched the paperwork back.
“Alright, everything’s in order. You’re good to go.” She hands him a beaten-up file. “Here’s the file for this product. It shows its ownership history and relevant training. There’s also a set of keys inside for its cuffs and collar.”
Jayce accepted the black file warily. Who knows what terrible information this file contained? At that moment, he made a mental promise never to look into the file without the man’s permission. This was private information.
The shopkeeper started making her way back into the tent, but she paused at the last moment, turning back with that sickly smile. “Do you need a complimentary leash or cage carrier?”
“No.”
“Okay, have a wonderful day! Thanks for shopping at The Barrel!” With that, the shopkeeper disappeared into the folds of the tent entrance.