It was easier to think of it in terms of Japanese yen. Every now and then, the price of yen would begin to rise for some mysterious reason, so everyone would start buying up yen. As a result, the value of the yen would rise even further. There would still be people selling yen, of course, but the majority of people would be buying, and so the price would continue to rise. Right now, the slaves from Raphtalia’s village, Lurolona, were that yen.

“Even so, demi-human slaves are everywhere you look. No matter how much of a hot item they are right now, there would just be too many fakes for that trend to continue, right?”

“Indeed. That’s why it has become a requirement that the slaves speak not only the official language of Melromarc, but also the unique dialect of the Seaetto territory. Yes sir.”

Surely that was something that they could just be taught. Then again, the language that you grew up speaking tended to be more deeply ingrained than most people realized. I had a friend once that was always speaking a certain regional dialect, even though he thought he was speaking standard Japanese. It would be obvious to anyone that knew the difference.

That probably had something to do with the rising prices, too. Since it was only slaves from Lurolona in Melromarc’s Seaetto territory, they were kind of like limited-edition products.

“I can’t believe this . . .”

Raphtalia seemed to grow dizzy. She stumbled backward a few steps and I reached out and held her in place.

“So what? Is the money that I prepared enough to buy them?”

“To be honest, that’s not likely. Yes sir.”

“The slaves should be appearing in the underground auctions shortly. Yes sir. I believe it would be best for the Shield Hero to go and observe the situation for himself. Yes sir.”

I couldn’t imagine a situation so bad that even the slave traders couldn’t afford to buy up the slaves. This place sure looked like whoever was running it was filthy rich.

“Fehhh . . .”

Even Rishia’s whimper sounded frustrated.

“Well let’s have a look, then.”

“Right this way. Yes sir.”

We put on our cloaks and followed the slave traders out into the Zeltoble night. We made our way through the back alleys, passing a variety of shops before arriving at a tavern. The slave trader approached the counter and spoke to the man standing behind it.

“We’ll have a bottle of Goodnight Binary.”

The tavern master furrowed his brow and cast a stern glance at us.

“Anything to mix that with?”

“Loose Winner Money. Yes sir.”