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No Refund!

Prologue:

In an era in which a human life is not worth particularly much, in which it can make sense to sell one's own body in order to survive, in such an era the business of slave traders flourishes.

Merchants of life, merchants of death, merchants of bodies, merchants of souls.

There have always been many names for these people who capitalize on the suffering of the poor.

Some of them adhered to certain at least basic rules when dealing with their "goods". Others have always been completely unscrupulous.

The trade in slaves goes back a long way. People were probably the second "commodity" to be officially traded after sex, and people... bodies... are still traded today.

We are in a feudal era. Kings, dukes, counts, feudal lords, estate and landowners... they all have a need for "cheap" labor. Preferably workers who only have to be paid once.

It is fall, the season for the slave traders is almost over. The last big markets are coming to an end, the harvest is in. Now it's time to sell the last of the "stock" and count the profits.

We follow Darius, one of the more successful merchants.

---

No Refund!

It was still early morning. The sun had only just risen above the horizon and Darius was sitting at his table by the light of a few candles. The room he had taken faced the courtyard at the back. The shadows in front of his fentser were still long. It didn't bother him that it was still quite dark. He had always been one of the early birds. It was part of his success.

He looked out of the window and smiled. The sun was just beginning to burn the mist from the meadows.

As the day began outside, Darius started to count up yesterday's winnings. The day had certainly been worthwhile. He had done a lot of good business. His customers had been satisfied. And when his customers were satisfied, he usually was too.

Many different currencies were piled up on his table in front of him. Smiling, he added up the individual values and made a note of each one in his little book. His lips moved silently as he calculated how much would be left after all the costs had been deducted. His smile grew wider and wider.

His crew would most likely be enjoying a generous bonus in the end. It wasn't very often that he managed to get so much money out of one slave troop. Today he would auction off the last of his slaves at the market and then dismiss his mercenaries. The season was over and they would go into the winter break. Of course, there was a chance he could hire them back, and indeed he wished his current squad would stay with him. They had done a very good job and would be paid handsomely for it.

But most of the mercenaries only stayed for one or maybe two seasons before looking for something else. He couldn't really blame them. Working in a slave troop was thankless. Thankless and hard. Many quickly reached their limits and for many, working for a slaver like him quickly pushed them to the limits of their conscience and not seldom beyond. He knew that only too well. Knowing that many of these people were being sold into a life of suffering and hard labor was not something they could bear for long. It took a particularly callous character to do this work. Darius knew this, and he paid his crew well. He let them share in his profits. This ensured that his men were loyal to him and did not stab him in the back.

Just as he had finished counting his earnings, he heard footsteps behind him. The door to his room was opened. Darius didn't need to turn around. It was one of his own men. He could recognize him by his gait. He had gotten into the habit early on of looking out for peculiarities in his crew. This one limped slightly and Darius could always recognize him by his steps.

"What is it?"

Darius asked in a calm but watchful tone before his mercenary could say anything. The latter came up to him and stopped behind him. He answered quietly.

"The merchandise is ready, you wanted to be summoned."

Darius didn't look back but nodded silently. With a grin on his lips, he calmly began to stow the heaps on the table in small bags and these in a large purse. The considerable amount did not go unnoticed by the mercenary, who stared at the money. Darius noticed this, of course, and smiled. It was only understandable that such an amount of money would arouse desire.

"Don't worry, your bonus will be considerable this time."

Darius said in passing. As he stood up, he took his coat and stowed the purse in it.

"You shall get what I promised you. When the goods are sold, I will buy you a drink and you will be paid."

The mercenary nodded silently. He was a veteran of many battles and his appearance was as battered as his soul. He had joined Darius last season and had quickly proven himself to be a reliable enforcer. He was able to follow orders and still think for himself. Darius was glad to have him in his crew. The mercenary quietly turned on his heel and left the room before Darius. Darius extinguished the candles and followed the mercenary outside. Before he left the house, he carefully locked the door.

The "merchandise" stood in front of the guesthouse. They had slept in one of the stables. Constantly guarded by Darius' mercenaries. Darius walked past the mercenaries on the night shift. A quick wave of his hand signaled that the night had been quiet. Darius nodded silently. They would wait here and stow the equipment while Darius went to the market with the "merchandise" and the others.

There wasn't much "merchandise" left. They stood in rows, one behind the other. Bound with chains and dressed in rags. They no longer resisted. Those who were still left had been there long enough to know that any resistance was completely futile.

They were slaves. Indentured servants. Abducted, kidnapped, bought or sold... to name but a few of the ways one could end up in one of Darius' trosses. Darius walked past them and inspected them. When he arrived at the head of the procession, he nodded to one of his troopers.

"Good, to the market with them."

He ordered. Now the troop came to life. His mercenaries, some on horseback, swung their whips. All of them were veterans and knew that they were not allowed to damage the "merchandise" , but of course the slaves themselves did not know this.

"You heard your master! Move or you'll feel the leather!"

They shouted, cracking their whips in the air. Hesitantly, the troop began to move. The rattling of the chains dragging over the cobbled streets and the occasional cracking of the whips could be heard far and wide in the cold morning air. It was still fairly quiet and the usual noise of the day could not yet be heard anywhere.

The slave traders had been in this habit for ages. It served to announce the arrival of new merchandise at the market to the locals.

Darius grinned to himself. He was a wealthy man. Not as wealthy as some other slave traders. He attached more importance to paying his men well and thus securing their loyalty. He was happy to give up some of his profits and in return could be sure that his men would have his back when the going got tough. His equals were not welcome everywhere, even if everyone knew that his equals were necessary.

He himself dressed in fine but robust clothing and was considered more of an outsider among his peers. However, he cared little for that.

After they had crossed the town to the marketplace, his entourage entered the market. Two other slave traders were already there. Darius greeted his competitors, who were just starting to show off their displays. There were only a few "customers" at the market this early, but it was worth presenting his "merchandise" properly now and again. When he had reached his market stall, Darius had his men pose the slaves on his stall. There were still one or two delicacies among them. The rest were standard merchandise. As the slaves stood on the presentation area, he looked at them again.

"Good my little ones. Today is your big day. If you work hard, you might get into a good house. Whoever is still standing on this stand tonight will regret it."

He said quietly and stood at the front of the stall to wait for customers.

...

The day was slow, but that had been clear. It was the last market day. Most of them had already covered their demand for slaves. Those who still came were hoping for a good offer at the end of the market. People knew that the slave traders did not keep their "merchandise" over the winter. They were sold cheaply or, if necessary, "disposed of" elsewhere.

The two delicacies had been sold quickly, and Darius hadn't worried about that. Good "merchandise" would always sell. But the rest of the slaves were hanging on the pedestal. They made a real effort, as one of the mercenaries had told them what they would face if they were not sold. A snake god was worshipped in this area, to whom sacrifices were made at regular intervals. The temple was always happy to accept "voluntary" sacrifices. None of the slaves on his pedestal wanted to be one of these "volunteers".

It was early afternoon when it happened. Darius had not expected anything like this. It had happened before. Once or twice. But he would never have expected it on the last market day.

He could already be heard on the other side of the market as he approached Darius' stall. A hulking man dragging a young girl behind him. The girl could barely keep up with him as he made his way through the market. He was already shouting Darius' name from afar.

The slave trader looked over at the man and recognized him immediately. The girl also looked very familiar to him. He had sold her to him a few days ago, at the beginning of the market days. She was still young, a pretty thing. He was almost sorry to have sold her to a farmer like him. He would much rather have sold her to a nobleman who would have appreciated her "merits" more.

Darius looked at the man in confusion as he stormed towards him. He seemed to be completely enraged. He was still dragging the poor girl behind him and finally threw her right at Darius' feet. With a bright red head, he barked at Darius:

"You maligned, rapacious cheat! I want another slave!"

Darius looked down at the girl at his feet. Her back was covered all over with whip lashes. She crouched at his feet, not daring to move. She had been completely broken, and that in just a few days. When Darius raised his head again, he looked into the reddened face of the angry farmer. Darius made a placating gesture.

"Just a moment, dear sir. Please explain yourself first."

The farmer opposite him literally burst and shouted at him unabated:

"What do you want me to explain? You cheated me out of my money. I want another slave."

Darius shrugged his shoulders as two of his mercenaries flanked him and a third helped the girl to her feet. Once the girl was out of the way, Darius raised his eyebrows and turned back to the farmer.

"I sold you a fully functional slave girl. Why should I give you a new slave?"

Darius' voice sounded very smug and full of himself. This was enough to send the farmer into a rage. His hand jerked back, but when he saw the mercenaries' hands resting on the hilts of their swords and whips, he decided against attacking Darius right there and then. He slowly lowered his hand again, instead pointing his finger at the girl and raising his voice again, shouting:

"I want a guarantee. This slave didn't live up to my standards and she broke after only two days."

"Aha. So that's where the rabbit is buried."

Darius purred and pulled some rolled up papers out of his coat and picked one out.

"You are Mongomery McBoon? Is that right?"

The man across from him was still visibly upset, but nodded.

"You bought this girl from me for the price of 15,000 pearls? Is that right?"

The man nodded again, his head still glowing red. He took a deep breath.

"But she's not even worth half that. If anything..."

With a gesture, Darius cut him off.

"You bought this for doing some light household chores?"

Darius asked, in a forced calm tone. The man nodded with his lips pressed together. Darius looked at the girl, whose face was marked with bruises and whose back had been torn open by the lashes. His face contorted.

"Tell me girl, what did you have to do and why did he punish you?"

Before she could answer, he looked at the farmer who was about to protest, but his gaze silenced him before he could say anything.

"But rest assured, if you tell the untruth, I will punish you worse than he did."

The girl didn't look at him, her whole body was trembling. Her eyes were fixed on the floor and she hesitated to answer. Darius lifted her face carefully and looked her in the eye.

"Now speak up, girl. If you tell the truth, you have nothing to fear. Neither from him, nor from me."

She took a shaky breath and spoke almost tonelessly:

"I...I should be chopping wood and hauling stones. Then I was supposed to work in the fields. I...I didn't make it sir. I...I'm too weak."

Darius let go of her and her head slumped back down. He pulled a handkerchief from his coat pocket and wiped the blood from his hand, then looked at the farmer across from him with raised eyebrows.

"Is that true?"

He asked in a calm voice. The man did not answer, but looked angrily at the girl.

"Is that true? Did she have to work in the fields?"

Darius repeated in a much sharper tone. He looked sharply at the farmer. He just grinned apologetically.

"A little. But she has to put up with it."

Darius pinched his lips together and shook his head. Slowly, he rolled up the bill of sale again and tucked it back into his coat with the others. He put his fingers together and took a deep breath.

"Well, since you've badly damaged the merchandise and used it improperly, I don't think I can guarantee you anything. If it was at least in good condition, then I could have been accommodating and at least given you your money back, but this way."

Darius turned to the girl and took a closer look at her. There were bruises, hematomas and scratches all over her body and her whole back was torn open.

"You can't do that, I want a guarantee, or at least my money back."

Yelled the farmer again, when Darius didn't seem to care anymore. But Darius spun on his heel and came down hard on the farmer. He dug his index finger into the farmer's chest and shouted at him at the top of his voice:

"Now listen to me you yokel! How am I supposed to sell THAT again? Huh? She's not even worth the shirt she's wearing. She's disfigured, it will take weeks to heal and then there will still remain some scars. You can't sell that. I could probably give her away for free and no one would want her."

The girl slumped at this comment. Darius was furious. It was true that he liked to show goodwill when it came to bad purchases. Buying a slave was not always easy and it was easy to make mistakes. It helped his reputation that he got on really well with the vast majority of his customers. But this merchandise? This slave? How was he supposed to take her back? She had been mistreated, damaged. It would cost a fortune to restore her beauty, if it would work at all. No. He couldn't possibly take her back and refund the price.

If someone offered him a slave for sale in this condition, he probably wouldn't take it. The cost versus the profit would be far too high.

He looked at the man sharply.

"I can't give you anything for her. I can't. For fuck's sake. If you hadn't touched her, maybe, but not like this! Take her back with you, or buy yourself another slave."

There was something definitive about that statement. Darius turned around and was about to go back to his stall when the farmer exploded once more:

"You mangy... Give me my money or I will..."

But before he could say anything else, one of the mercenaries stepped forward. He already had his sword half drawn and his sidekick behind him unfurled the whip in his hand.

"What are you going to do?"

The mercenary's voice was dark and rough. He spoke very quietly, but the farmer understood every syllable. The glint in the mercenary's eyes revealed that he was looking forward to a fight. He built himself up to his full, impressive height and drew his sword very slowly. But he was not to have his fun, for the farmer backed off.

"... nothing will I do. But I'm not taking this thing with me anymore, it only costs me food and doesn't do the job."

He spat out and clenched his fist. His head was still red and he called after Darius:

"You'll see. You will no longer be welcome here and no one will buy from you."

Darius paid no further attention. He had heard these threats many times before, but they never materialized. He waved over his shoulder and his mercenary blocked the farmer's view.

"Fuck off or YOU end up here on the pedestal."

The mercenary shouted and finally drew his sword. He took a step towards the farmer and the farmer almost fell over backwards.

"Remember my words."

The farmer spat out and turned to leave. Disgruntled, he stomped off. Darius, meanwhile, shook his head and turned to the mercenary who was still holding the girl.

"Take her back to the inn. Let her wash herself and have a healer tend to her wounds."

He pulled out a small bag of money and tossed it to the mercenary.

"I can't sell her like this."

Then he looked at the other slaves on the platform. Three were still there. Soon the market would be over.

...