Karim ben-Ayub looked at his men coming back to base.

Judging by the mood it seems the mission was a success. Not that Karim ever doubted it would be.

Words had come to camp from some informants in Wadrabak that a stranger was heading in the desert ill-prepared. The informants had specified the stranger had recently arrived in town and drunk a good amount of cash in cheap and strong booze.

All that was not very enticing, but it had been specified that the stranger was a Beorn. A rarity around this part as those people’s heavy fur tented to disagree with the climate of the Keln Calipha, extremely hot during the day despite being rather cold at night. More alluring was the apparent fact that the man was a rather high-level Alchemist and Herbalist. The most interesting aspect of the information was the drive the Beorn had in him when preparing to venture into the desert. As if something had called to him.

It wasn’t enough to justify an expedition for Karim himself. As the leader of the Blood Sand bandits he would and could not go out to capture a simple man, it was beneath him and would lessen his reputation among his men. But Karim had a few new recruits for which it would be an excellent first mission.

Hearing the report the bandit leader was satisfied. The men, under the supervision of a young officer and the surveillance of a more experienced one, had waited for the Beorn to find what it was that was driving him with such passion, then they had swiftly captured him and stolen his prize.

As the furry man was carried into the slaves’ den to be put in chains Karim examined the man’s treasure.

A plant.

The tall bandit leader disregarded the dismissive attitude of his newest recruits considering the Beorn’s prize, Karim knew that a variety of plants were worth more than their weight in gold. And considering such a high-level Alchemist and Herbalist as that Beorn was so elated to have acquired this plant, the experienced bandit easily deduced this particular plant was extremely valuable.

Unfortunately, the previous camp’s alchemist had been thanked for his services after poisoning a batch of healing potions. Definitely thanked. Therefore he could not identify and evaluate the plant for Karim.

On the other hand, it meant the position was now vacant and the Beorn’s value for the bandits would rise if he would willingly agree to work for them.

In the time it would take the Beorn to wake up the bandit leader would congratulate his men and enjoy the company of a few slaves.

---

The foul smell of fear and filth in his nose woke Mikhaïl up.

Taken in surprise by the bad scent, the Beorn tried to rise up, only to be assailed by pain in the back of his head. Carefully moving his hands to touch at the painful part, he noticed the chains attached to his wrists.

Examining himself more closely the Alchemist noticed that he was not in such a bad condition. Hit at the back of the head, put under chains, parked in a filthy and smelly place with strange noises. It was bad, alright. But there were no more injuries on his body.

His stuff had been confiscated, presumably by his captors and the chains he had attached to him didn’t restrain him too much either. His manacles were linked to a collar around his neck and to others at his ankles, The chains were also tied to a strong belt around his waist.

After examining himself Mikhaïl thoughted to do the same about his surrounding.

The origin of the stench that had woken him was immediately apparent. There were several people around him, as heavily chained as him or even more in some cases. They were in a big and rectangular room, the only light source a few cracks in the shut door and windows, as well as the roof. It gave the place a subdue and worrying atmosphere.

Mind still blurry from the injury and the bad sleep Mikhaïl calmly wondered where he was and where was his plant. It would be a shame if he had definitely lost it.
The Beorn also found his own thoughts strangely calm despite the situation. He was injured, chained in what was presumably some slaves’ quarters, his prized plant and meager possessions had been snatched. The situation was extremely dire, yet he didn’t seem to be able to really care, it was like he had reached the end of his rope and was ready to give up.

Nothing mattered anymore.

“Who are you?” A raspy voice asked, interrupting his gloomy thoughts.

Mikhaïl turned his head to the sound and saw a young woman. She was Human and had black hair. She wore rags, like all the people in the slave den, and was holding them as to preserve her modest forms. The light in the room was far to dim for the Beorn to see much more or to guess at her age, but he did see a big scar running in the middle of her face. Probably the reason she was here and not somewhere else being used as a sex toy.

“So? What’s your name?” She said. Had it been the same injury that had scarred her face and damage her voice? Mikhaïl knew Human women normally didn’t have such raspy voices.

“I’m Mikhaïl,” he finally answered. “And you?”

“I’m Sarah. Welcome in the Blood Sand bandits slaves’ den. Care to share how you ended up here?” She asked, moving a bit closer.

“I don’t really know, I was hit behind the head while traveling alone in the desert and woke up here,” the Beorn had no reasons not to answer, so he did.

“You were alone in the desert? Are you stupid?” The woman, Sarah, was quite surprised by that.

“Probably, it was not the first mistake I made that led me here,” was the Beorn response.

“Oh? I’m curious. What could lead a Bearman so far from his cold land?”

“Beorn, the name is Beorn, not Bearman,” Mikhaïl explained, a slight growl in his voice.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to offend you,” the Human said while backing away.

“It’s alright. I know we’re far from common around here,” the Alchemist replied, tone apologizing.

“So would you mind telling me what drove you so deep in Keln?”

Mikhaïl explained to Sarah his story. How he had made the preparation of poisons and drugs his profession and how it had led to him fleeing his homeland. He didn’t hide the existence of the bounty that had driven him south again and again. He didn’t give any specific details but answered her question when she asked them. Some pointed questions there were.

He also told her how a Skill had pointed him in the direction of a peculiar little plant that he thought would allow him to start anew in Wadrabak. He was far more elusive in that last part of his story.

She listened to the tale respectfully up to the end. Taken in his memories, Mikhaïl didn’t notice how she made sure the other slaves were doing their best not to listen or interfere or how they were covering in fear when looking at her.

When the rays of daylight entering the place started to grow weak and Mikhaïl had finally finished his story, Sarah stood up. The woman took off her manacles and iron collar as well as the rags she was wearing in front of a befuddled Beorn. She then retrieved an ornate golden choker from behind a loose brick in a wall and put it around her momentarily naked neck, letting out a clearly relieved sigh. Flabbergasted, Mikhaïl saw the almost nude Human walk elegantly to the door and exit the place.

“Man, you may have made a big mistake there,” came a new voice from the Beorn left. An old and male one this time.

“What just happened?” Mikhaïl asked, still completely believing his eyes.

“She’s Karim’s first bitch. The crazy girl loves being his slave, and he tends to send her here when there are new interesting slaves. They’re not wary of her and she gathers a bunch of info for her fucking master,” the new voice explained. It came from a Human male, this one had brown hair mixed with withe and bor a lot of scars on his bare skin. Like all the other slaves he wore nothing more than rags and chains.

“And who would you be?” Mikhaïl snarled back, angry at his own mishap and the casual way the man had told him of it.

“Wow! Easy there. I’m not your enemy,” the old man said, raising his shackled hands in a defensive manner.

“No, just a fucker too afraid to help me earlier and mocking me now,” anger could be heard in the Beorn voice as he realized he had been tricked and thought the Human was making fun of him.

“Hey, look man. I’m not a bad guy, I just fear for my life. No need for the aggression, but if you want to play like that, fine. Don’t ask for help,” the man said, retreating in the shadows of the slave den.

“Who’s to tell you’re not another spy? Or all the others here? Leave me in peace,” Mikhaïl barked at all the slaves.

For the following hour, the Herbalist sulked in self-pity at his own fate. He thought about his current situation. He would never take back the reigns of his own life. But he had long been acquainted with some dark sides of civilization and knew a bit about the slave trade, even if he had never partaken in it himself.

Thinking about himself Mikhaïl tried to come up with a plan to better his situation. He was male and not young anymore, even if not that old at thirty-two, so that was two points in the lower value column. On the high value one, he was ‘exotic’, being of a rather uncommon species in the region, educated and very well versed in two complementary crafts, alchemy and herbalism. He also had no qualms working with outlaws or taking a life himself if need be, he had done it before.

He was interrupted in the considerations of his valor as a slave by the opening of the door.

Sarah was back, she was wearing her golden choker and a two pieces see-through white outfit barely covering her breasts and tights. With her walked three men wearing assorted chainmail on top of dark shirts and loose trousers.

The men walked to the newest prisoner, grabbed him, and forced him on his feet.

“Come Mikhaïl, the Master wants to talk to you,” the woman who had spied on him said with a charming smile.

“What will happen to me?” He asked as he willingly followed his captors.

“Well, you see. I could tell you, but it would spoil the surprise,” now there was mirth in her voice.

“Not even a little bit? Please?” Mikhaïl pleaded like he used to do with his old mentor back in the days.

“Nuh-uh! Won’t tell!” Was the cheerful answer of the woman. “Now, maybe you’ll like to walk in silence, it would not be good for you to arrive in front of the Master with a bloody mouth. Right?”

The Beorn felt a chill run down his spine as he saw the sadistic grin on the Human face and heard a few rasped breaths coming from the other slaves.

Deciding to follow the advice he kept his mouth shut for the rest of the walk and looked around. Maybe he could glean some information from his surroundings.

What he saw was not what he expected from a bandits’ encampment.

For starters, the buildings were strongly built with stone. Not a lot of them were visible on the outside and Mikhaïl guessed right when he thought that more facilities were underground or inside the cliffs overhanging the place. As the bandits had installed their headquarter in a canyon.

Men and women of many races, but mainly brown-skinned Humans, were going from one place to another. They were wearing clothing of different attire but with enough similarities to strongly hint at some kind of code. It was nothing like a uniform, but clearly anyone being a bandit was wearing some kind of red top assorted to sandy colored bottom. They were also walking with some more discipline than simple bandits were expected to have. It was clear that there was a way to do things and to address people, even if Mikhaïl could not discern the rules yet.

He also noticed a bunch of slaves among the bandits, even if they did not particularly abide by the bandit vestimentary color codes, they were wearing clothes ranging from rags to pricey stuff, like Sarah. They were easily recognizable by the collars they all wore. The looks on their faces also varied from various degrees of despair and resignation to acceptance and even pride in some rare cases, once again like Sarah. It was easy to notice the link between the way the slaves held themselves to the quality of their outfits.

Be they slaves or bandits, all people stepped outside of Mikhaïl’s guide’s path. He assumed it was because, as he had been told, she was ‘Karim’s first bitch’. The way she talked about a ‘Master’ and the deference of everyone in the camp lead the Beorn to think that this Karim was the bandits’ leader. It meant that Sarah, while being a slave herself, was more important than simple bandits.

Seeing slaves be better treated than some bandits sparked an idea on the Alchemist’s mind. One that could perhaps provide him with a good way to keep a modicum of control about his life.

A short walk through the bottom of the canyon and the group entered an overture in one of the cliffs, confirming Mikhaïl guess as their uses to house more people than the outside buildings. The inside wasn’t particularly notable, safe for the few crystals providing light. It was more costly to use magical crystals than simple torches to give light. Or maybe not that much, being in the desert meant that the price of wood was higher than in the Beorn homeland, with all of its dense forests.

Walking up a short flight of stairs Mikhaïl and his escort arrived in front of a simple wooden door guarded by a solitary man in the middle of a nondescript hallway. The free men accompanying Sarah in the recovery of the prisoner assumed positions around the door with the already present guard. There was now one on each side of the door and two in front. Mikhaïl was standing in the middle of the corridor, surrounded by the four bandits and just behind Sarah.

The woman knocked once on the door and opened it, waving at the Beorn to follow her she entered the room.

It was a simple yet elegant study. A few bookcases on the walls filled to the brim, some assorted chests beside and under a detailed map of the region, and a liquor cabinet with glass windows exposing its content. At the center of the room was a red skin man with eyes the color of the desert itself.

He was bald and wore a simple yet obviously high-quality tunic in the color of the bandits. The allure of the man allowed Mikhaïl to rightly assume this was the bandits’ boss. He was also completely hairless, be it hair, beard, or even brow and eyelashes. The man was sitting on a comfy chair behind a sturdy and tidy wooden desk.

On said desk was a peculiar potted plant that the Herbalist recognized immediately.

“My plant!” Mikhaïl exclaimed and hurried to examine it for any damage the bandits could have dealt to it.

“It is pleasing to see such enthusiasm,” said the red man with a smile. “I am Karim ben-Ayub, leader of the Blood Sand bandits. You may have heard of us.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard the name before,” answered the Beorn, too focused on the plant to care.

“See Master? I knew he would act like that,” cheered Sarah while sitting herself on the ground near the bandit leader. She leaned on his right leg side.

“And you were right. Now keep silent while I talk to the man,” Karim gently chastised her before focusing back on the prisoner while petting the woman head. “Now, if you would give more attention to our conversation, I have a proposition for you,” he added to the furred man’s attention.

“Allow me to guess at it,” said Mikhaïl while sitting, without being invited to, on the chair on his side of the desk. He was holding the potted plant in his hands. “I’m a Beorn, so I’m kind of exotic in the local slave market and that would make my price rather high. But I’m a male, not so good looking, over thirty years old and far from a virgin, I won’t make a good quality sex slave beside my exotism. On the other end, I’m over level fifty in my Alchemist and Herbalist classes with a specialization in poison and drugs. I can speak three languages but only write one and I’m not that bad at accounting. I’ve worked more than my fair share with outlaws before and ended up with my own wanted bounty back home. Not a big enough amount to warrant sending me back there in chains. Honestly, I think I could make a valuable addition to your encampment.”

“That was quite the tirade there,” said Karim genuinely surprised by his prisoner’s declarations. “So, what do you propose?”

“You free me from my shackles, you give me a place to work, and you allow me to experiment on prisoners, slaves, whatever. In exchange, I’ll produce potions, poisons, drugs, and anything else you want me to do for you, as well as whatever I may discover with this little treasure here,” Mikhaïl proposed while petting the thorny plant on his lap.

“I must confess, I’m surprised that you’re proposing this in such a genuine manner,” said the bandit a grin on his face showing his white and pointy teeth. “Here’s my proposal. You’ll work for me as you proposed, but with a few specifications. You’ll have a weekly budget to run your workshop, I want at least twenty middle grade healing potions and ten mana ones each week. If you manage to produce them with less than your allotted budget, you can keep the rest. I’ll grant you one slave a month to experiment on, you want more test subjects you pay for them. You’ll also be free to use the two assistants of your predecessor as you see fit,” Karim saw lights of interest in the man in front of him, this Alchemist could be dangerous, he would have to keep an eye on him. “I will not free you from slavery yet, you’ll have to earn it. Prove to me that you’re as valuable as you think you are and in three months I’ll not only make you a legitimate part of my men but also grant you a higher budget.”

“Will I be able to go to town? It’ll be better to evaluate market prices and handle my budget,” asked Mikhaïl, not really expecting to have the right.

“If you prove a valuable and loyal member of the group, you may,” the bandit leader replied. The Beorn understood that he could maybe go outside the camp, but not before a long time and probably not without supervision.

“Now, if you would please.” Karim extended his hand for Mikhaïl to shake. The Beorn didn’t hesitate and grabbed it.

[You have entered a deal with a Tarim, break it and he’ll know it.]

“What was that?” The Beorn exclaimed.

“That was a Skill of mine. I’m a Tarim and one of our Species Skill allows us to seal deals like that, with the System itself as a witness,” explained the red skin man with a smirk. “Now if you would please wait outside.”

That was as clear a dismissal as possible and Mikhaïl took it as such.

Once the Beorn left the room Karim turned to Sarah.

“Well, that was one of the easiest negotiations I ever had without a dagger being at someone’s throat,” he said, still petting the woman head.

“You think he will manage?” Asked the woman enjoying her master’s hand.

“I sure hope so, and now go and show him the place,” the bandit leader ordered the slave scratching her chin before motioning for her to move.