A certain carriage approached the humongous building, its walls looming over the grounds where slaves were held. Morning dew blurred the carriage's outline, but the sound of the four horses' hooves echoed clearly. The wheels, covered in dust and stained with mud, suggested a journey that had begun long before dawn. Yet, the carriage rode swiftly, soon coming close enough for the guards at the entrance to take notice.
As the horses halted, one of the guards walked towards the carriage, ready to inspect it.
"Who do you have in there?" He asked the coachman.
"A resident from Eastern Briggs," came the reply.
The guard walked to the carriage's window, which was soon opened by a man.
"I am Malcolm Johnson," he introduced, his chin high. "And I would like to see Thompson."
The guard's gaze lingered on Mr. Johnson's face, his expression unreadable. "What business do you have with Mr. Thompson?"
Mr. Johnson's eyes narrowed, his lips pursing in displeasure. He adjusted his cufflinks, ensuring they were perfectly aligned. "What would someone like me find in a place like this? Of course, to purchase a slave." He rolled his eyes.
"I'll inform Mr. Thompson of your arrival," the guard said, already walking away.
"Wait!" Mr Johnson called out, his voice rising. "Aren't you going to invite me in or do you plan on keeping me waiting here?"
The guard's stride didn't break, with his back facing the man in the carriage, he replied. "That would be up to Mr. Thompson."
Mr. Johnson's scowl deepened. "They clearly don't train their workers properly." He harrumphed, as he shut the window abruptly. Settling back into his seat, he decided to continue his nap.
Far from the entrance, a guard traversed the empty corridors, halting in front of a specific door. He knocked, waiting briefly before entering. With a bow, he spoke to the figure seated behind the desk. "A man at the gate requests your presence, sir."
Thompson's gaze remained fixed on the paper in front of him. "Who is it?" he asked, his tone neutral.
"Malcolm Johnson, from Eastern Briggs." the guard replied.
Thompson's brows arched, his eyes finally lifting from the paper. "Where is he now?"
"Still at the gate, sir."
Thompson sighed. When they had sold Theresa to him, he thought it was strange, for a man who was said to be in love with her. As he had to stay in the town for a few days to sort things out with the town head, he had come to hear how the woman who would soon be sold to him, would be married to Johnson. He had brushed it away, as just a rumor and maybe a plot of revenge, since the woman clearly refused his proposal. But now, it all made sense to him.
Johnson planned to bring her back to the town, but this time as a slave. Unlike before, when she had a choice, now she would have no choice but to obey him, because she would belong to him.
Thompson rubbed his forehead, thinking whether or not to get involved. He could just demand triple the price and be rid of them, but that would be at the cost of Theresa's dignity. She still had little hope of leaving slavery behind, but that hope would crumble if she realized what path had come looking for her. It wasn't his problem to solve, but a part of him felt possessive because she was now his property, and also because of the stupid string the man had pulled with him.
"Bring the unwanted visitor here, let's hear what he has to offer." Whatever foolish thoughts Johnson had, Thompson didn't care, as long as he had enough money to match. He wasn't one to pass up a chance. If the man had enough to pay for all the trouble he caused, then there was no need to send him away.