I Have a Task Log

"To keep our people from ending up like this, we have to make money," Kase said matter-of-factly. "What other choice is there?"

Colin didn’t respond, just sighed.

Aside from the unlucky souls who died in the sewers during gang turf wars, this place was probably also part of how Thousand Masts City "digested" its population.

The old, weak, sick, and disabled who could no longer work and were just waiting to die in a corner—most of them probably ended up here.

Colin looked at the group of buyers standing below the stage.

Most of them were residents of the Underground. Once purchased, the slaves on stage would either become sacrificial offerings, be worked to death, or meet other fates an ordinary person could scarcely imagine.

The only certainty was that these poor devils, snatched from the Surface, would likely never escape back to it in their lifetimes.

Colin refused to believe that the nobles of Thousand Masts City weren’t secretly profiting from this business.

Even though this place was in the Undercity, making it difficult for a large army to attack, Mist Harbor wasn’t that big. If Thousand Masts City got serious, they could absolutely raze it to the ground.

From this perspective, Colin even felt that gangsters from the likes of the Hundred Eyes Gang had more humanity than the nobles who dabbled in this business.

"Believe me, Colin, our cause is absolutely just."

Morel’s voice once again echoed in his ears.

’To be honest, if the slums were turned into an official district, the "supply" for this slave market would be cut by more than half. The penalties for slavers within Thousand Masts City were harsh—but they only applied to those who trafficked in legal residents.’

’At that point, our field agents would become public enemies.’

At this thought, the sacrificial scene he had witnessed earlier flashed before his eyes. Colin glanced at the bustling market and felt a sudden wave of nausea.

"Alright, let’s go see if there are any antiques worth looking at," Colin said with a shrug, then continued toward the stalls around the docks.

Kase and Dorn exchanged a glance, shrugged at each other, and followed Colin.

The group made their way to the small stalls surrounding the slave market.

Colin didn’t like the atmosphere of the slave market, but he had no choice. Nearly all of Mist Harbor’s stalls were clustered in this area.

They moved from stall to stall, steering clear of the vendors selling hallucinogenic mushrooms and carefully examining the wares at those that offered antiques or equipment.

It was hard to tell if the scavengers here were genuinely skilled or if the local forgery trade was simply top-notch.

Colin and his companions really did see many antiques from the Shadow Anvil Clan, such as ancient tapestries and statues.

The Gray Dwarf stall owners also lent the goods an extra degree of credibility; these folk loved nothing more than to treasure hunt in the ruins of their cousins.

And because they shared a common origin, they knew the architecture and trap layouts of Dwarf tombs like the back of their hands. It was practically their specialty.

As they continued on, Colin found nothing of value, but Dorn’s expression grew increasingly foul.

The group arrived in front of another Gray Dwarf’s stall.

The Gray Dwarf stall owner frowned in annoyance as they approached. "I’ve been watching you. You walked from that end to this one without buying a thing. Don’t come over here and bother me!"

"Mind your own business, you damned shorty," Dorn cursed.

The Gray Dwarf stall owner cracked a smile. "Aren’t you short, too? Damned shorty."

"You damned fool... Hey, kid, aren’t you good with insults? Get over here and help me curse him out." Dorn turned, only to find Colin staring intently at the cloth being used as a mat on the table.

"Kid, what’re you doing?" Dorn nudged Colin’s forearm with his elbow. He pointed back at the stall owner and shouted, "You goddamned gray-skin, what kind of Evil Skill did you put on my companion?"

"You’re spouting nonsense!" The stall owner glanced at the Bear Goblin Guard in the distance. "This is ridiculous! Did you two take hallucinogenic mushrooms this morning? Don’t you try and pin this on me!"

Colin coughed lightly and pointed to the tablecloth on the stall. "How much for this?"

"Hmph. That’s a faceplate knocked off a statue of the Shadow Anvil Clan. The handiwork of those fools."

"You’re the fool!" Dorn screamed, pointing at the vendor’s face.

The stall owner looked at his "kinsman" in confusion, not understanding what he was so angry about.

"No, not that. I’m talking about this piece of cloth," Colin said, pointing to the black fabric spread over the table.

"It’s not for sale," the stall owner said with a frown.

From the look on his face, he seemed to be considering whether or not to call the Guard.

Colin coughed twice and instantly switched into performance mode.

He adopted the air of a Mage. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am a scholar from the Black Tower, and my teacher has recently taken a great interest in the history of the Underworld."

"I’ve heard of you. A Mage, are you? That explains it. Mages are all freaks." A glint appeared in the vendor’s small eyes, nearly lost in his wrinkles. "This is an heirloom from my father. If I were to sell it, I’d say it’s worth at least fifty Gold Coins!"

"Fifty Gold Coins? Why, you..."

"Fifty Gold Coins is a bit of an exaggeration, sir." Colin cut off the curses that Dorn and Kase had begun to shout in unison. "If I’m not mistaken, this fabric came from an underground ruin, didn’t it?"

The stall owner shrugged noncommittally.

"To be honest, I only wish to study its weaving methods and materials. My only purpose in buying it is to use it as a physical specimen for my research paper. If the price exceeds my budget, then I’ll just have to..." Colin shrugged.

The stall owner remained impassive, merely watching him from under his eyelids.

Seeing this, Colin turned and started walking toward the next stall.

Just then, the stall owner called out, "Ten Gold Coins. And not a copper less."

"Deal." Colin took out his coin purse, handed the Gold Coins over, and walked away toward the inn with the cloth, his face expressionless.

"Ten Gold Coins for a damned scrap of cloth. That’s really something, coming from you."

"Colin’s usually so frugal. I’ll bet he has his reasons."

The two behind him muttered to each other as they caught up.

Colin kept walking, his face a blank mask, like a noble Mage unconcerned with the idle chatter of the bodyguards trailing behind him.

After they had walked several blocks, he couldn’t resist looking down at the "tablecloth" draped over his forearm.

[??/???]

[???]

Colin could hear his own heart pounding.

’This is just like the Silent ring when I first found it. The Panel is covered in question marks. Since the ring brought me the Silent Sword Skill, what will this one bring me?’

’That’s a question I’ll only find the answer to when the time is right,’ Colin thought to himself.