Family Business 30 (Patreon)

Family Business
Chapter 30

-VB-

I did not know that the marquis kept an entire prison population.

Well, a prison of forced laborers from the other side of the border.

Normally, prison wouldn’t be a thing this far out in the hinterlands of Demacia; Demacia didn’t offer anyone that kind of money to run prisons. The closest thing to a prison most nobles and provinces had was a brig managed by the local city guard or a noble’ manorial guard.

What I saw in front of me was nothing like that.

It was a big walled building with a open side but covered top, mostly with stitched together tarp rather than with actual building material. There were guards stationed at the walls, and most of them had bows.

“I didn’t expect a … facility like this out here.”

Marquis Jacques Bronzemoon nodded. “It is odd, yes, but I am not so inhumane as to kill people who just want to live away from their tumultuous homeland,” he shook his head. “But at the same time, this is the land of the Demacians. Why should we simply allow these people who are not like us to settle in our lands when our lands are already densely packed enough as it is?”

I didn’t agree with the last part but agreed with the rest. If no one invited them to come in, then maybe they shouldn’t be here. Or solve their own land’s probl-.

As we entered the main area of the “prison,” I understood why exactly these people were here.

Or to be more specifically, why these women and children were here. They never had the strength to fight back against the violent tribes in their homelands.

“The prison is a mere catchphrase. The truth is that it is a facility that I use to teach the fleeing tribespeople the language, words, culture, and skills necessary for them to survive in Demacia,” the marquis listed off with a smile. “Of course, those who show an inability to change are turned back.”

“You’re doing what I am, but apparently, you’ve been doing it far longer than I have been,” I hummed as I ran my hand along the walls of the “prison.”

A well-lit and spacious courtyard, rooms that could comfortably house four people each, and more.

It must be expensive.

“Where are you getting this money from?” I asked him.

“From the tribespeople, of course. Education isn’t free, you understand.”

“Of course.”

“To offset the cost, I ask the tribespeople to work for me. Whether this is in running errands like delivering mails or fixing the soldier’s equipment with stitching is up to them, but everyone must work. If you can’t work or won’t work… well, I can’t accept burdens to society, now can I?”

I nodded slowly.

There was nothing unfair about what he said.

“But it’s reaching a point where I can’t handle it all, Your Grace,” he sighed. “In fact, if the trend continues as it is…”

“What trend?”

“The escalation of the Freljordian tribes. It’s become so bad that our scouts and spies expect a total of ten percent loss of their overall population.”

I paused and felt a sinking horror.

Hold on, wasn’t this supposed to be Ashe, Sejuani, and Lissandra’s fight? Was that what was causing all of this?

“How many people do you have…?”

The marquis sighed.

“Right now? Forty thousand.”

I nearly did a spit-take.

That’s a tenth of the entire march’s population!

“How…?”

“Some of the women… agree to work in the red light district. It was unavoidable, between their lack of profession or other skills and their willingness to do anything to not go back to their tumultuous homeland where rate rape and murder - not or, Your Grace, but a combination of the two - is too damn high.”

A disgusting situation creating a disgusting situation.

Demacia, being next door, was feeling this because Freljordians couldn’t keep their swords to themselves. Just fucking wonderful.

“I assume you want me to take some of them off of your hands?”

“I would very much like it. I even have a list of people who are ready to move on from the march because they have learned the language and skills, but there are also many who would prefer to not involve themselves yet to the sex trade.”

A guard came over and handed me a thick packet of paper.

“... I will look over them,” I said as I handed them over to one of my acolytes.

“Wonderful!” he grinned. “In the mean time, would you like to meet some of them? I know that the Freljordians prefer to hide their magic when they learn that Demacians dislike magic, but I’m sure you can coax something out of them…?”

That was a good idea.

“Very well. Do you have candidates that might have magic? Or showed it off before?”

“I do, in fact, Your Grace.”

I left the Freljord Marches later that week with more than a hundred magic-potent Freljordians.