Following Genius Nort's advice, Unwan headed toward the marketplace. Of course, Genius had not suggested this place without reason.
First, the marketplace was full of stalls, and from them one could find information about various cohorts. If the notices posted on a stall hinted at something suspicious or dangerous, Unwan would know to keep his distance. Either way, he would not lose anything.
Second, he needed to learn the market's layout, its goods, and its prices. No one could guarantee that Unwan would be accepted into a cohort and not end up on the streets. In that sense, he was preparing an umbrella before the rain began.
And third, being in the center. Marketplaces were usually located in or near the city center. That meant no matter which direction a suitable cohort came from, he would be able to reach it faster.
As Unwan walked along the narrow paths, a few cool gusts of wind passed by, reminiscent reminiscent of autumn. People around him kept glancing at him, more precisely, at his grimoire. Its color naturally drew attention, but after a month at the academy, Unwan no longer felt bothered by such looks.
As he continued toward the marketplace Genius had mentioned, his curiosity grew.
'What does it look like, I wonder? How does it benefit sellers and buyers alike? Will my Wamanabu coins be enough?
'As long as there are no assassin recruiters, it should be fine.'
'Hey, genius. What are you thinking about?'
'It's just a marketplace.'
'For humans, it doesn't matter where they work. As long as there's money and coins to be earned.'
'Maybe that's true.'
After some time, Unwan emerged into a large open square. The place was crowded, and trade seemed lively. Vendors had set up makeshift stalls, and cloth sheets were stretched over the walking paths to block the sun, fastened to wooden poles placed roughly every five or ten meters. It wasn't hard to tell, this was a marketplace.
Unwan scanned the area, spotted several stalls, and headed toward one of them.
As he walked, he noticed something near the central part of the market: a man was striking a child. Unwan slowed down and listened, if only to understand the reason. An ordinary person might not have heard clearly, but Unwan was a Drinker of the Spring of Hope. He had survived wounds that defied human reason, why shouldn't his natural senses be sharpened as well?
— I've told you how many times to handle these crates carefully.
— Most of them come from overseas. They contain very expensive equipment. And you keep ruining them. Now tell me, how many crates did you drop yesterday?
The boy answered through tears.
— S… six.
— There, you admit it yourself. A single crate costs several times more than you do. So…
The man struck the boy across the face. The child fell to the ground.
— …learn to do your job properly.
In truth, the boy was hardly fit for labor at all. He was about six years old, looking as though he came from a noble family. Slowly, he got back up and continued carrying crates.
'One crate is worth more than this child, huh?
There's nothing more valuable than living freely. True, he isn't free right now. He's a slave.But only "right now."'
'Do you want to save him?'
'Depending on the situation. If it gets worse, maybe.'
'Did you notice the noble?'
— Yes.
'The one in tailored trousers, a black top hat, and polished black shoes.'
— I know.
He'll report you to someone he knows and have you erased.
— Even so. I'll at least do one good thing.
Unwan reached the stall and began reading the notices.
> Attention: The Bloodthirsty War Faction, Berserkers, Strength Cohort, Lucky Survivors, and the Shadows Cohort are currently recruiting. They guarantee cohort uniforms, food, sleeping quarters, and shared combat experience…
Each cohort's advantages were listed in
detail. In truth, they did not differ all that much. A cohort's true worth depended on its rank, reputation, strength, and the abilities of its members.
However, Unwan had stopped reading for another reason.
Somewhere nearby, the sharp crack of a whip echoed through the air. A moment later, the cries of a young boy spread across the square. Unwan continued staring at the paper with forced indifference, reading where the Shadows Cohort building was located. Then he turned and walked toward the boy and the noble.
The nobleman was striking the child with a whip studded with metal spikes.
'Isn't this… too much?'
— So now you've learned to steal my belongings? My food?
The whip cracked again. The boy screamed louder.
It was just one apple, master…
What? Now you dare talk back to your master as well?
Another strike followed. This time, the boy's voice began to fade. He understood, no matter how many people were around, no one would help him. Perhaps the noble was an influential man. But that wasn't the point.
Nearby, Unwan stood trembling with anger. He didn't know why this affected him so deeply. Yet he couldn't ignore it. A sense of injustice filled the air.
Unwan didn't recognize himself. Had he become compassionate? Just? No. But every strike felt as if it landed on him, no - worse than that. He wanted to move, to act, but reason told him to choose survival.
Still, his emotions betrayed him.
A sentence slipped from his mouth.
— Why are you tormenting him so much, you filth? Fine, your goods were damaged, so what? Did that really empty your purse?
— You'll take a loss, sure, but this isn't that kind of loss.
The noble looked at him with a strange expression.
— And who are you supposed to be?
— The one who'll make you bite the dust.
— You? For real?
— And why not? You'll regret asking those questions. Now answer me, why are you hurting him?
The noble laughed openly. No one here would dare oppose him.
— …To humiliate him,
— To show him how weak he is. His father owed me money. And I decided that he would repay that debt.