Underground Black Market

Heka's destination for his purchases was not aboveground. Although staying aboveground would help him avoid being clubbed from behind and followed, there should be plenty of vicious hounds watching the ground above for the wolf cub carrying a pouch full of Huika Gold Coins.

The moment that little fat lamb showed its head, they would tear it apart and swallow it whole.

Heka had seen it happen. Just for a jewelry box plated with a layer of gold trim, that Fat Pig had snapped a little pickpocket's neck and then thrown him onto the garbage heap outside.

At the time, Heka and another little pickpocket had been the ones to carry away the body.

Heka knew about the jewelry box because it was the very thing the man whose neck had been snapped had stolen from him.

The underground black market was usually run by several established merchants or by the gang that controlled the area.

Regardless of which faction ran it, however, the location changed from time to time.

But even if the gangs had the ability to establish a foothold in the deeper sewers, they would not choose such a place, since they had to ensure that their customers could reach it safely and conveniently.

When Heka had investigated the sewers in the past, he had happened to learn that a black market was currently operating here. There were not many places that could serve as a black-market venue.

Following a flight of stone steps leading upward, Heka arrived at a hall with one side already collapsed. It looked somewhat like the reception hall in a lord's manor.

Heka advanced cautiously. When he heard a rustling in the distance, the boy immediately stopped and slowed his breathing.

Fortunately, the rustling did not approach him. After a brief pause, it gradually faded into the distance.

Heka guessed it was probably a group of rats.

Sewer rats were nothing like rats aboveground.

A rat from aboveground could at most cause an infected wound if it bit someone, but sewer rats carried a deadly poison. As long as their large incisors tore away even a small patch of skin and flesh, the victim's heart would soon begin racing, after which his body would stiffen and he would die.

The minor incident along the way did not impede Heka's steps. After following several iron nails driven into the bricks by those who had come before him, he reached the platform below.

Heka then found a concealed marking.

It was a small white rat, the symbol of the black market.

Heka touched the mark with his palm. It was very fresh. A few fragments of broken stone remained in the corner below the wall, along with several scattered footprints faintly visible on the moss.

Heka checked once more that his wrist crossbow and dagger were both on him. He then wrapped his left hand completely in strips of cloth, making it look like a mummy's.

Although life aboveground was fraught with indescribable hardship, Heka's arm was still far too tender and thin compared with the arms of adult dwarves and Halflings.

The black-market merchants were all seasoned operators. Even in the dim light, they might still notice this flaw.

Heka had originally planned to wrap both hands, but although the strips of cloth could imitate the muscular appearance of an adult Halfling's arm, they would also restrict his arm's mobility.

He still needed one hand free to deal with any battle that might break out.

After making his preparations, Heka gave himself a pep talk. He then followed the markings toward the black market.

Unlike the black markets described by bards, the so-called black market in Seapeak Port's sewers had neither expensive magical items nor elven slave trading.

Most of the stalls belonged to small bandit groups, who came here mainly to fence stolen goods.

The somewhat larger bandit groups and the gangs had their own specialized channels for fencing goods, so they had no need to sell anything here.

Heka did not linger over the figures huddled in the darkness on either side. Instead, he headed straight for the distant stall selling food.

The source of the food sold at this stall was self-evident. Most of it came from little rats in the warehouses who stole from the stores they guarded. Not only were the prices cheap, but the quality was also fairly reliable.

The only drawback was that the goods had to be collected from the warehouse.

This was the only channel through which Heka could purchase goods in bulk without arousing suspicion. After all, this business was originally built around bulk purchases.

Moreover, these people had no particularly close ties to the gangs. Perhaps he could bluff his way through.

Heka looked up at the clearly marked prices inside the small shop. The prices here were roughly twenty percent lower than those aboveground. He had heard that if one ordered enough, an even lower price could be obtained.

Heka tapped his finger on the counter, waiting for the person opposite him to focus his attention on him.

The person at the stall was a masked man.

Once Heka confirmed that the man's gaze had shifted from the moss on the ground to him, he pointed at the black bread. He then extended his left arm, revealing five fingers wrapped beneath the cloth, with only their tips poking out slightly.

He then pointed at the price of the dried fish and folded down one finger.

The clerk looked at the twisted arm wrapped in cloth and placed a total of sixty-four coppers on the table in three batches, immediately understanding the man's intention.

The other person looked strange, but then again, there was no such thing as a normal person in the black market. If a normal person did appear, that normal person would be the strangest one of all.

"Fifty pounds of black bread, forty pounds of dried fish. Do you want anything else?"

The man carefully sized up the person in front of him, then withdrew his gaze before the other party could feel offended.

He swept all the copper coins into a drawer beneath the table. Then he pulled out a sheet of paper from beside him, casually drew a few characters on it, dipped a brush in some ink, and painted it across the surface of a wooden block, stamping it onto the paper.

"You know where to collect the goods, right?"

The man looked at the person in front of him, who was probably a dwarf or a Halfling, and rubbed his temples.

Their customers were usually regulars, mainly familiar caravan leaders or captains who came here to purchase food. After all, the quality was guaranteed, and the price was twenty percent lower than what was available on the market.

The money saved naturally went into his own pocket.

Strangers like this were often difficult to deal with. He had to explain whom they should contact, as well as how they were supposed to collect the food.

"Good. The voucher would be void if you didn't collect it today. And don't fold it."

After getting the food, Heka did not leave immediately. Instead, he walked toward the other side, where the stalls for fencing stolen goods were located. They carried all sorts of things, most of them used weapons and ironware.

Heka walked along the black market and soon found his target.

It was a short sword that appeared to be in fairly good condition. It looked somewhat like a standard-issue weapon from a noble's private army, though he could not tell whether its owner had been killed and robbed or whether the weapon had been smuggled out.

Once he had confirmed his target, Heka picked up the short sword and examined it carefully, then lightly tapped it with his finger.

The owner of the stall, who was completely covered in a black robe, also raised his gaze and fixed it on the customer before him.

Heka guessed that there was probably a weapon beneath the man's robe—perhaps a crossbow aimed at his throat, or a sharp dagger coated with a poison potent enough to kill with a single cut.