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Chapter 79
“She’s a mage? Then hurry up and put the restraints on her before she causes trouble.”
“Let go! I said let go—mmph!”
Sylvia couldn’t resist properly after losing her staff.
Within moments, the men gagged her and bound her wrists with restraints.
They were special cuffs designed to suppress magic, prepared in advance for treating anyone like a slave.
Without magic, Sylvia was just an ordinary woman.
A gag was shoved into her mouth, leaving her unable to even scream.
She hadn’t expected to feel this helpless.
Was I too reckless?
Maybe the plan to free the slaves alone had been foolish from the start.
She was shoved into a cell and thrown inside.
“Ugh!”
Her body hit the cold, rusty bars, and she flinched in pain.
She tried to get up, but the cuffs’ suppressive magic made her body feel heavy.
The restraints on her wrists felt like shackles.
Not only her magic, but even her strength seemed weaker than usual.
“What, a mage rat got caught? Where?”
One of the auction workers laughed as he walked closer to the cell.
“Whoa, not bad. I’ve never seen a mage before—are they all this pretty?”
“Guess we’ll get a good price for her.”
Another worker added, glancing at her from a distance.
“Hey, be careful. Mages are dangerous.”
“Come on, she’s restrained. What’s she gonna do?”
They locked the cell without another glance at her.
The metallic click of the lock made Sylvia’s heart sink.
A wave of helplessness washed over her.
What do I do… if I stay trapped here like this…
Sylvia had grown up praised as a talented mage.
But she’d spent all her time studying magic, with little experience in the real world.
When others pointed that out, she used to scoff—now she felt it deeply.
I should’ve listened when Daisy told me not to go.
She should have at least set up more safeguards.
Sylvia looked up at the scene beyond the bars.
Inside the large tent, slaves were still being dragged one by one onto the stage to be auctioned.
Some cried, some held back tears, and some looked empty and resigned.
The cruel reality of it all wrapped tightly around her heart.
Cold sweat formed on her forehead.
Then, she overheard the workers outside her cell talking about her.
“What should we do with that mage slave? If we don’t sell her soon, it could cause problems.”
One of the men looked uneasy.
“Tell the auctioneer to put her up for sale by dawn. That should do it.”
Another snorted.
“She’ll fetch a nice price, don’t you think?”
At that moment, the auctioneer stomped over after hearing that a mage had been caught.
He scanned Sylvia from head to toe and said to the men,
“But what if she goes berserk? The slaves could riot, but a mage causing havoc would be worse.”
“How about we just make her dumb?”
“Then we lose her value as a mage, and the price drops.”
They argued back and forth about what to do with Sylvia.
Listening to them made her blood run cold.
Some suggested making her a fool, others cutting out her tongue, others crippling her hands and feet.
Not one of them saw her as human.
Once inside the cell, she was just merchandise.
No, please…
If their plan went through, she’d be sold by dawn—and face a horrifying fate like the others.
As she stared blankly past the bars in despair, a small movement caught her eye in the dark corner of the tent.
Huh? Did I imagine that?
She narrowed her eyes.
There—several figures were moving quietly in the shadows.
They were dressed in dark clothes, sneaking around just like she had.
Who are they…?
Sylvia held her breath and watched.
It was confusing, but one thing was clear—they weren’t guards or auction staff.
A faint hope stirred in her chest.
***
Duke Wentworth’s face was still twisted with anger.
The moment he discovered all the documents were forgeries, his hands began to tremble.
His rage was fueled most of all by the betrayal of Stephan, the man he had trusted for years.
Everything had fallen apart because of Stephan’s betrayal.
But fortunately, after pressing the Marchioness of Moulton, he learned an important truth.
At least the slave auction documents were genuine. Thank heavens.
That was the one thread of hope Duke Wentworth clung to.
In one corner of his office, the Marchioness of Moulton sat slumped with her head bowed.
Her face was pale, her eyes swollen from tears.
She had been dragged here after the duke, unable to contain his fury, summoned her.
Though she had done nothing wrong and handed over the real documents, she became the outlet for his anger after Stephan’s escape.
His cold gaze was filled with disgust and contempt.
He had no sympathy left—only the obsession of reclaiming his property and the auction’s ownership.
“Hmph. Pathetic.”
He sighed shortly and stepped out of the office.
At the end of the corridor, his loyal butler James stood waiting with several knights.
When the duke approached, James bowed and reported,
“My lord, the knights and servants are ready. Please give the order.”
“Listen carefully. Go to the auction house and bring the staff here. I’ll personally inform them that the ownership has changed. If anyone resists, drag them back by force if you must.”
Duke Wentworth’s tone was steady and commanding.
The knights and servants immediately prepared to move out.
“And make sure none of the slaves escape in the process,” he added firmly.
He urged them to hurry, knowing it would be difficult to find the staff again once the auction ended.
The auctions weren’t held daily, but sporadically, vanishing without a trace afterward.
The workers lived under false names, often disguised, making them impossible to track.
They did it for the bribes and profits the trade brought in.
The duke’s eyes still gleamed sharply with greed.
“Go. Quickly!”
At his command, the knights hurried down the hall toward the auction.
“Sob… sob… How did I end up like this…”
The Marchioness of Moulton watched his back and quietly wept.
Her heart was filled with betrayal and despair.
Yes, she had done wrong—but realizing that the one who orchestrated it all was none other than the respected Duke Wentworth made her tremble with fear.
From the start, it had all been part of his plan.
