Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem

The murmurs and stares followed us like a shadow as we made our way deeper into the bustling streets of Valorian. It was amusing how quickly word spread in the capital. By the time we reached the industrial quarter, the sidelong glances and outright gawking had only grown more brazen.

The air here was different - thicker with the smell of hot iron and soot. The rhythmic clang of hammers echoed from every direction, mingling with the hiss of steam and the rumble of the forges. It was the perfect place for Kaelira to stock up on everything she'd need to set up her own forge.

We came to a stop in front of a large blacksmith shop with a sign that read "Steelweaver's Haven." The building was bigger than the surrounding shops, with smoke billowing from multiple chimneys and an open courtyard where apprentices worked tirelessly on smaller projects.

Most of them were dwarven slaves. Their owners must've thought it to be cheaper to buy them young and inexperienced and train them up with the assistance of older slaves instead of buying master crafters outright.

While humans and elves could learn the art of artificing, dwarves just had a natural disposition toward it, which over the long years created a stigma that they were simply better at it. It got to the point where if a high-tier item wasn't crafted by the hands of a dwarf, it lost some of its value. Just the fact that it was made by a human made it worse.

Kaelira's eyes lit up the moment she saw it. She stepped forward with her usual demure act slipping as she craned her neck to take in the towering structure. <This… This is amazing, Lord Quinlan! However... I'll create an even greater smithy in the future so that I can make you the greatest pieces!> She decreed with a voice that was brimming with excitement.

Her excitement was understandable. Even Jasmine who was still clinging to my arm seemed impressed. "This is one of the best blacksmith shops in the world, or so I've been told by my lady friends who had their accessories crafted here. If they don't have what you need, no one will... Hubby."

She added the last word after careful consideration.

Jasmine masterfully adopted the persona of a pampered noble girl. I assume she must've had to deal with them previously. I knew that she had no such friends in reality; it was just a cover-up to relay the information she knew without raising any eyebrows should someone listen in on us.

And, yes, we'll have to cover things up. It can't be my elven sex slave who I buy the goodies for; I'll have to pretend that they're for me.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

We stepped inside the shop section of the establishment and were greeted by rows of gleaming weapons, armor, and tools lining the walls, all impeccably displayed to highlight the craftsmanship.

In the corner, a group of dwarven slaves labored over glowing ingots. I had to nod my head in respect to the cunning shop owners. By placing these dwarves in the shop section, they were basically screaming at the guests that 'all our products are made by the hands of dwarves!' which should make potential buyers more inclined to purchase goodies from here, even at a premium price.

As they noticed our presence, each one cast burning glances of pure hatred at Kaelira and Seraphiel.

Elves and dwarves hated each other on principle, but seeing two elves paraded around in skimpy clothes as beauty products in a kingdom where dwarves were forced into backbreaking servitude? That added a whole new layer of venom to their stares.

Yes, according to my elven ladies, dwarves thought that being a sex slave was much easier than the fate that awaited them should they be captured.

Anyhow. It was time.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath as I immersed myself in my role fully. Once I parted my eyelids, I was no longer Quinlan Noir but Black, the rich cunt with an ominous background.

"What are you glaring at, you dumb, fat midgets?"

Calling them out on their short stature was the biggest no-no one could do to a dwarf, which was evidenced by their eyes glowing with hatred at my direction instead of the two elves'.

"Stop it!" A hurried hiss sounded from behind the counter. A human manned it; after all, slaves would get run over in potential negotiations; they couldn't talk back to free people. If they offended someone important, the shop would get hurt greatly. Your next read awaits at empire

This was a man in his mid-forties with the trademark cunning eyes of a merchant, however, he was in great distress right now. He rushed up to us and began bowing many times. "I apologize from the bottom of my heart, my lord and lady! These slaves displayed an unforgivable disrespect today, I will be sure to educate them." He then turned around and growled, "To the back with the lot of you, and prepare my whip as well as the burning iron while you're at it!"

The dwarves had a sunken look on their faces but moved to obey without offering any rebuttals. They knew that talking back would only make things worse.

"You gotta train your slaves, my good man, or they'll disgrace you in front of figures of great importance."

He got the gist of my message and began bowing once again and offered a flurry of apologies.

Jasmine spoke up next, and I couldn't help but notice a mischievous smirk appear on her lips that were spouting some truly bratty lines, perfectly tailored for her role. "Enough! I'm about to vomit, this place is just hot garbage. I bet that my army of maids could craft better gear than whatever this amateur establishment makes. My friends must've mistaken the name of the place and suggested the wrong one. Why don't we visit the smithy next door instead? Maybe my friends meant that one."

The smithy next door was the biggest competitor to this place, and Jasmine was fully aware of this fact.

Her words earned a pale face and a strong grimace from the seller. "I'm truly sorry about what happened on this day, however, should the lord and lady give us a chance, we would be able to prove our craft in which we hold a great degree of prestige."

"I'm sure the same is true for the other place." My declaration had multiple meanings, especially when one combined it with my eyes that were gleaming.

The seller sighed with defeat evident in his tone. "I understand. As an apology for the great blunder our slaves committed against your persons today, we'll offer you a thirty percent discount."

Nice. I magnanimously accepted his offer.

My decision to pretend to be nobles and to take my elves with me was already paying dividends.

The merchant led us deeper into the shop, and I saw his practiced smile return, though a hint of unease lingered in his eyes. "Now then, my lord, what exactly are you looking to purchase today?"

"High-quality essentials to start my own forge."

Understanding dawned on his features. "Perhaps you'd care to start with an anvil? A good one is the cornerstone of any forge."

I nodded, adopting an air of casual disinterest. "Of course. Show me your best ones."