Arinna led the way, the skinny horse in tow. Aeneas and Creusa's party moved through the poor quarter's edges. Entered the slave market on the main street of the commoners' district.
The air was thick. A mix of sweat, cheap spices, and rust. The harsh clank of chains and muffled sobs echoed in the distance. Tall stalls blocked the sun. Created pools of deep shadow.
This place felt like the rotten lining beneath Troy's splendid robe. Every corner reeked of despair.
Aeneas wrinkled his nose. His gesture radiated pure disgust.
(This place is an exhibition hall of human degradation—the high-end section like a boutique, the low-end like a slaughterhouse. Every dark facet of humanity is here...)
He idly kicked a rusted chain at his feet. It clattered dully on the ground.
(I feel like... I've been here before... Or... did Allen see something like this in a museum?
Can't remember clearly... But this real, visceral oppression is sickening!)
A strange agitation stirred within him. Like a forgotten memory struggling to surface.
Creusa's face was pale. Her fingers clutched the edge of her robe. Her body trembled slightly.
She instinctively moved closer to Aeneas, seeking some sense of safety. Then she straightened her spine. Trying to maintain a princess's composure.
Her eyes swept over the chained slaves. Her throat felt tight.
(No one in my father's palace ever told me Troy's prosperity was built on these chains...
These weeping people... are they not also citizens of Troy? Have I been living a lie?)
A storm raged inside Creusa. This was the first time she faced the brutal truth beneath the kingdom's glittering surface so directly.
The market was indeed divided.
The high-end section had neat, clean slaves displayed on carpeted platforms. Like fine merchandise.
The low-end section was like a cattle pen. Slaves were chained to posts, caged. Their eyes were terrifyingly empty.
Achates scanned the area warily. His hand never left his short sword.
Nisus coolly observed the distribution of the market guards. A flicker of distaste in his deep green eyes.
Euryalus played with his dagger, grinning. As if ready for a fight at any moment.
Just then, Arinna let out a choked gasp.
One of the low-end stalls was ringed by rough posts. The ground was littered with moldy straw and filth.
A lovely, thin girl with soft golden-brown hair and wide, innocent doe-like brown eyes was curled on the ground.
A middle-aged slaver—the notorious Lykos, dressed in garish, expensive clothes with poor taste—was berating her loudly. A shell necklace hung around the girl's neck.
Arinna dropped the horse's rope. She shot toward the stall like an arrow from a bow. Fell to her knees and wrapped her arms around Talia.
"Talia! I found you! Don't be afraid, I'm here." Her hands shook with emotion as she stroked her sister's cheek. As if making sure this wasn't a dream.
Aeneas's gaze turned icy cold. Fixed on Lykos. A dangerous, cold smile touched his lips.
He strode forward. Placed himself like a wall in front of the sisters.
He said to Creusa, "Lady Creusa! Now would be the time to show the authority and bearing of a Trojan princess!" His voice held a note of expectation and encouragement.
Creusa took a deep breath. Stepped forward. Announced her status.
"In the name of my father, Priam, King of Troy, I demand you show legal proof of origin for this girl!" Her hands were clenched, knuckles white. She tried to hide her nerves. But her voice was surprisingly firm.
Lykos's oily face stretched into an unctuous smile. He rubbed his hands together.
"Your Highness, the little thief stole food. I'm merely holding her to cover the debt."
"I serve your royal brothers. This business provides significant revenue for the crown. Why trouble yourself over some low-born commoners?"
"You should be enjoying a pleasant stroll. Don't you agree?" Behind him, four mercenary bodyguards took a synchronized step forward. A silent show of force.
Talia sobbed a rebuttal. Her voice was faint but firm.
"I didn't steal... The fat man offered me food, then he grabbed me..."
Tears of pure grievance welled in her red, swollen eyes.
(This slimeball saw a pretty, helpless girl and snatched her. That's all.
He's keeping his 'merchandise' unblemished, hence the shouting instead of whipping. And now he lies!
Wait... Lure them in with a small kindness, then falsely accuse them. So this basic scam existed in the Bronze Age too?)
Aeneas mentally scoffed, his mind racing even as he assessed the situation.
(He's connected to my brothers... Forcing the issue shames the crown, but ignoring it betrays my conscience...
What should I do? What would Aeneas do?)
Creusa's thoughts were a turbulent storm. Her eyes darted between Aeneas and Lykos.
Lykos pressed on, his tone dripping with nauseating entitlement.
"A noble's servant acts for the noble's benefit. What does it matter if a few commoners suffer?"
"After all, isn't the nobles' mere allowance for the commoners to live a grand enough blessing?"
The air seemed to freeze. The slave market's noise became a backdrop. Every fate here hung by a thread.
The crowd around the stall held its breath. The tension was a palpable, thickening fog.
The clanking chains and distant shouts paused. As if time itself had stopped.
The smug grin hadn't even faded from Lykos's face when Aeneas moved.
Without a word, he lunged forward. A clean, modern uppercut connected squarely with the slaver's jaw.
A solid thud. Lykos's obese body crumpled like a ragdoll. He hit the ground with a groan. Too dazed to get up.
His four mercenaries surged forward.
Aeneas nimbly skipped back. Shouted at the top of his lungs.
"This slaver is an enemy spy! He's sent assassins after the nobility!"
(Modern law doesn't apply here. But the court of public opinion and class warfare? Always useful.
Reason with a bully who has power and protection? Better to fight fire with fire!)
His internal monologue was a cold sneer. His movements never faltered.
He slipped past a guard's grab and drove his elbow straight into another's kidney—a brutal shot. The man dropped like a stone.
Then he danced between the rest like a butterfly, light on his feet.
A flurry of snapping jabs followed—sharp, fast, relentless.
His style was utterly alien to this era's warriors. No wild, sweeping swings. Just precise, rapid, modern combat.
Achates, Nisus, and Euryalus surged forward to join him.
Euryalus laughed, drawing his short sword. "The young master's got a real talent for turning the tables—frame first, ask questions never. Brilliant!"
Nisus stood his ground coolly. His body a subtle shield for the princess and the two sisters. His sharp eyes scanned for any other threats.
Achates drew his blade. Took a position at Aeneas's flank, ready to defend.
Aeneas planted his foot on Lykos's chest. Declared loudly,
"You slander the royal house to cover your crimes! You led armed men in an attempt on a noble's life! The penalty is death! Your entire family enslaved!" He put more weight on his foot. Lykos squealed like a stuck pig.
Terror contorted the slaver's fleshy face. Pure panic.
"Mercy, Your Highness! My lord! I beg you! I'll free all the illegal slaves!"
"Six... six female slaves... They're yours! And compensation! A large sum!"
"Please, Princess! Speak for me! I've served the crown faithfully!"
Creusa stared, her hand over her mouth. Her grey-blue eyes were wide.
(Such a brutal method... Yet it worked... How?)
The straightforward princess couldn't quite process it. But seeing the hope in the freed slaves' eyes... her resolve wavered.
The midday sun had shifted. Its light was softer now. Late afternoon.
The six freed women huddled together. Ragged, but hope shone in their eyes.
Arinna clung to Talia, weeping with relief. The gentle, skinny horse nudged the girls with its long face. A quiet comfort.
Aeneas approached the still-stunned Creusa. Spoke in a low, easy tone.
"That's 'an eye for an eye'. From Hammurabi's Code. In Babylon."
"He claimed a noble's servant can harm commoners. I'm a noble. Harming him seems fair, no?" He shrugged. As if the brawl had been a minor diversion.
He handed the next task to her. "We saved them. Finding them a home is your department, your highness."
Creusa straightened her spine. Her royal composure returned.
"My sisters are priestesses. They can take in these homeless girls." Her voice was firm. The initial shock had passed.
Aeneas smiled. Nodded. Said quietly,
"I must go to Maple Ridge tomorrow. To make offerings to my mother, Aphrodite. Our... date ends here for today."
"I'll escort you back to the palace."
Creusa nodded. "Good. But first, the Temple of Athena. I need to settle these girls."
Euryalus sidled up to Achates and Nisus. Grinned.
"He's a natural, isn't he? Look at the princess. All icy this morning. Now she's smiling. Softened right up. Impressive."
Achates and Nisus weren't as flippant. They looked concerned.
Achates stayed silent, guarding. His hand never left his sword.
He shook his head at Euryalus. "Enough. The young master just stepped on the toes of royalty. We should expect consequences."
Nisus gazed toward the palace. Gave a cold smile. "I expect certain princes have already heard."
The party that had left the city with five now numbered twelve. Plus one horse.
Their strange procession cast long shadows in the slanting sun. They moved slowly toward the Temple of Athena.