Red Blades of Manderian

((Just a little background story I wrote for my alt extractor/refiner char))

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'Profession, age and previous owners?' the slave trader uttered the question without his eyes leaving the long parchment filled with the same information on the other slaves.
'Foundry worker, 52. My last owner was Tindremic noble Quentius Flavius, sir', the slave pronounced each word with care.
The slave wasn't large resembling more Khurites by his stature than Tindremenes he was. His near naked frame bespoke of years of hard labour. The slave's skin was reddish hue of old burn wound on his neck and right shoulder. He had quite a few tattoos indicating previous owners. The names of previous owners had not been brutally soiled, however, as one often saw on disgraced slaves that had been resold again and again for laziness or ineptitude. They were instead woven together in pictures with some skill. No, this slave was no muscle to be sold for few copper pieces or a troublemaker no self-respecting owner would buy.

The slaver wrote the description on his parchment meticulously. The slave awaited patiently with his gaze turned downwards. Finally the slaver raised his quill and set it aside.
'Ah! Lets have a look then', he rose from his stool with surprising quickness and stepped next up to the slave.
He circled the slave once looking for any marks of injuries or defects. This was all familiar to the slave and he stood still with his eyes cast down.
'Can you write and read?'
'Yes. I can both read and write in Tindremenic, sir. I know how to do basic sums', the slave added.
'Open up', the slaver motioned the slave to open his mouth.
'Foundry worker. What does that entail?' the slaver asked examining the teeth and gums of the slave.
'I refined metal ore into purer forms, sir. I was responsible of a furnace of my own with my last owner. There should be recommendation letter with his seal there, sir', the slave motioned towards the small bag of personal belongings by the slaver's table. The fact that the slave was allowed to have them bespoke of his value.
The slaver examined the old burn wound for a moment:'Why does he sell you?'
'The vein ran out, sir.'
'How much were you sold the last time for?'
'2 gold coins and 150 silver, sir.'
The slaver looked at the slave for a while: '-really?'
The slave nodded.
'Very well, very well then. I will put you on display as the tenth slave. Buyers will have opened up by then but it's still early enough for them to have money left for a good race', the slaver let out a little self-satisfied chuckle. No doubt he was thinking of his one tenth broker fee which could prove larger than his fee for all the ten slaves sold before this one.
'You can go now. There's food, drink and shade over there', the slaver motioned towards the area where the already examined slaves were trying to rest in the midday scorch.
The slave had already turned his back and had taken few steps when the slaver shouted after him:'What is your name, slave?'
'Gratti, sir.'

((*edit: Forgot I was supposed to make Gratti a thursar when I created the char so I changed all the descriptions on this story ))

“He’s too old, and for that price, Ma’am, why bother with that filth?”
Varis was skulking as the ten slaves were put on the pedestal for display. The crowd of Tindrem bidding eagerly for the wealth displayed.
“We can find better quality Haulers, I mean he’s even a bloody Thur, how good can he be? Buying a few workers like the second and third, will be cheaper and more productive. How many years, of labour, does this slave still posses, one, two?”
The Tindremene man wiped the sweat of his brow, looking concerned at his mistress, wondering not for the first time if her Marbles were still aligned correctly.
“two gold and fifteen, you can buy four others for that, all better in the arts of logistics, please see reason here. If he was a Young Ohgmir, Like Boddard, but this is insanity. A bloody Halfbreed. What do they know about the secrecy of extraction, The magic recipes that turn stone into shining metal. He might know some stone. But see reason Madam.”
Amaryl of the House Latrel, Scowled at her Servant, her gaze making him stiffen.
“If I wanted your advice I would have asked for it. Logistics require the need of a smelter, and Sending one to an apprentice is too time consuming, A couple of years is all we need if he has the basic skills to train our own apprentice, Or do you wish to go into battle wielding a wooden spear, clothed in Ground fur like some Barbaric Rizar?”
The man stood quietly, opening his mouth and closing it again. Amaryl smirked slightly.
“It seems you finally found when to shut up, Buy him, Brand him, Feed him and Put him infront of a furnace with our stockpiled Granum.”
“Yes ma’am”
Varis sighed while bowing. He moved to the front of the pedestal and found out that none else wanted him. Great, we got ourselves an expired worthless Thursar…

Forgot I was supposed to make Gratti a thursar when I created the char so I changed all the descriptions on (my part of) this story