Irina, Deputy Commander of the Dachaso Mercenary Company, weighed the risks:
The boy really did work for Lady Deepwinter, but she had no reason to target them. Perhaps the young Deputy Warden simply wanted to do something to prove his worth?
"But Deputy Warden, these Slave still need to be sold..."
"You're bargaining over Lady Deepwinter's decision."
Everyone in the tavern was taller and stronger than Annan, yet at that moment, he seemed to look down on the lowly mercenaries.
The quiet laughter in the corner died. A Ranger closed his hand around a dagger, an Assassin eyed Annan's neck and waist, and the Warriors clenched their fists. Irina's smile nearly vanished at his icy refusal, then returned. She told her companions to enjoy the rest of their night and led Annan out of the tavern toward their headquarters' Dungeon.
A bitter wind blew. "Deputy Warden, it's rather cold out here..." the woman in leather said, leaning toward Annan.
"Then put on more clothes."
Annan dodged aside, then clutched his waist with a pained look.
"What happened to your waist?"
"Lady Deepwinter was too heavy..."
Irina's pupils contracted. She seemed to have heard something she was never meant to know...
Annan walked into the dim Dungeon without hesitation, deepening Irina's wariness. She began probing him about why Lady Deepwinter wanted the Slave.
Deepwinter had spared the Dungeon from filthy runoff and the stench of flies. The forty or fifty other Foreign Races in the cells looked miserable, but they were far better off than their counterparts in the Dungeon... After all, they still had to be sold.
"The Slave uprising disturbed Lady Deepwinter. She ordered me to investigate the truth." Annan had Irina open the Dungeon. "I'll take these Slave back to the Dungeon and make sure they stay alive."