Building A Carnal Empire In The Fantasy World-Chapter 24: Flesh Market I

Some time ago...

The east wing of the Blackwood Estate had been transformed into something that looked like a theater from hell. Red silk draped the walls, and golden lanterns cast dancing shadows across the room. But instead of a stage for actors, there was a raised platform with iron rings bolted into the floor.

Around the platform, wooden booths rose in tiers like an amphitheater. Each booth was open to the front but enclosed on three sides, giving the occupants privacy while still letting them see the stage. Rich carpets covered the floors, and servants had placed wine and delicacies on small tables within easy reach.

The nobles filed into their booths like predators settling down to watch a hunt. Count Varnell took the largest booth, positioned directly in front of the stage. His black and silver mask gleamed in the lamplight as he settled into a chair that looked more like a throne.

In the booth to his right sat Lord Blackthorne, a thin man whose fingers were heavy with rings. His companion was Lady Ashford, whose reputation for cruelty was whispered about even in the outer city. They shared a bottle of wine that cost more than most people earned in a year.

The young nobles who had been discussing elf twins claimed a booth on the left side. The auburn-haired girl was practically bouncing in her seat with excitement. Her friends leaned forward like wolves waiting for meat.

All around the room, the masked faces turned toward the stage with hungry eyes. Some sipped wine. Others whispered to their companions. A few recounted gold coins with eager fingers.

At the center of it all, a woman stepped onto the platform.

She was tall and graceful, with skin like polished bronze and hair as black as midnight. Her outfit left little to the imagination—a strip of red silk wrapped around her chest and a skirt that barely covered her cheeks. Gold jewelry caught the light with every movement. When she smiled, her white teeth gleamed like a predator’s fangs.

"Welcome, honored guests," she called out, her voice carrying easily through the room. "I am Velara, and I’ll be your guide through tonight’s selection. Count Varnell has gathered the finest merchandise from across the kingdoms and beyond for your pleasure."

A murmur of approval rippled through the booths.

"Before we begin," Velara continued, walking slowly across the stage like a cat stalking prey, "let us review the rules. All sales are final. Payment is due immediately upon purchase. Any... damages... to the merchandise after sale become the buyer’s responsibility."

She paused at the center of the stage, placing one hand on her hip. The pose made her barely-there outfit stretch tight across her curves.

"And remember, dear friends, what happens in this room stays in this room. The Church has many eyes, but they do not see here. Tonight, you are free to indulge your deepest desires."

Count Varnell raised his wine glass. "To freedom from the Church’s blind righteousness!"

"To freedom!" the crowd echoed, raising their own glasses.

Velara waited for the toast to finish, then clapped her hands twice. A side door opened, and two guards in plain clothes dragged someone onto the stage.

The first lot was a young man, maybe twenty years old. His clothes had been stripped away, leaving only a rough cloth around his waist. Iron shackles bound his wrists and ankles. His head hung low, but those who looked closely could see tears streaming down his face.

"Our first offering," Velara announced, walking around the bound man like she was examining a piece of furniture. "A former merchant’s son from the eastern provinces. No cultivation, but young and strong. Perfect for manual labor... or other uses."

She lifted the man’s chin with one finger, forcing him to look up at the crowd. His eyes were red from crying, and bruises covered his arms and chest.

"Note the excellent muscle tone," Velara said, running her hand down the man’s arm. "He’s had good nutrition all his life. Not like the street rats you usually find in the markets."

A voice called out from one of the booths. "What’s his crime?"

"His father owed money to the wrong people," Velara replied with a shrug. "When they couldn’t pay, the debt passed to the son. Along with the son himself."

Laughter rippled through several booths. The young man on the stage flinched at the sound.

"Bidding starts at five hundred gold," Velara called out.

"Six hundred!" came a voice from the left.

"Seven!" called another. 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

"Eight hundred gold!"

The bids came fast and eager. The young man’s price climbed higher and higher as the nobles competed for him like he was a prize horse.