"What's all this racket? The guests are about to come in. What are you doing?"
The two guards who had been so arrogant moments ago now looked like mice before a cat. Neither dared raise his head.
The Dwarf went a step further and dropped straight to his knees.
"Master, you're here. It's nothing. Nothing happened. We'll take care of it right away."
"Hmph. If you let another slave escape like last time, I'll put you up on the auction block."
"Yes, yes, of course! You two, hurry up and take them backstage."
The two guards were unhappy with the Dwarf's order, but they did not argue. Scowling, they led Werther and Rayleigh toward the cells backstage at the auction house.
"Rayleigh, why do I get the feeling this isn't going to work? Where's our money?"
Werther found it strange. This was not how things were supposed to go. Weren't they meant to get paid first?
"Don't worry, Werther. Looks like we won't be getting the money for now. We've run into a crooked merchant. We may have to squeeze it out of the buyers instead."
"Heh. Unbelievable. I never thought I could sell myself and still get stiffed."
Rayleigh only smiled. He seemed just as speechless about it.
"You two, get moving! What are you muttering about?"
After passing through a dark corridor, Werther arrived backstage at the Auction.
A huge cell took up a third of the room. It was all one connected space, with iron bars and, at the very back, wooden crates of various sizes that seemed to be there for the slaves to rest on.
One guard opened the cell and shoved Werther.
"Get in. What are you standing there for?"
Werther was about to raise a hand and kill him, but then he remembered