152 Phoebes little trip (2/2)
Speaking of slaves, there were quite a few at the docks. Phoebe eyed them and nodded to herself. They seemed to be in better conditions than before. Better fed, less whip-marks, even decently clothed. But they were still enslaved, still suffering, still hopelessly without freedom or opportunities.
Phoebe smiled to herself.
If she had her way, they would not be enslaved for much longer.
***
Phoebe casually walked right into the Iron Legion camp at Fal'Herim, the one with piles of road construction material stacked on the south side.
”Hi, I need some advanced medical supplies.” She requested openly. ”You're from Itarim, right?”
”Yes, yes… you'll want to talk to the quartermaster…” the busy legionnaire said, with a yawn, and then had someone take her to the quartermaster's office.
There, she asked about medical supplies for perhaps ten seconds before she added, very casually, ”Operations Code: Aquila-Nine-Four. Amber Range.”
The quartermaster choked, almost dropping something on his own foot. ”You… you're…!”
”Busy and strapped for time. Please confirm.” Phoebe added.
”Confirm, Aquila-Nine-Four. Yellow Range.” The quartermaster gave her a discreet salute. ”There is a tavern on the north side of the main bazaar. Speak to the barkeep named Myrissa. Her code is Aquila-Five-Three. Yellow Range.”
”Understood.” Phoebe nodded. ”Now, about those needles…”
She got her supplies, she got her contacts, and she got out of the Iron Legion immediately after.
***
Myrissa was a brown-haired lady who kept her hair in a high bun. She was one of two bartenders running the evening shift at the Moonlit Oasis Bar.
Upon hearing Phoebe's code and identification, she stared. ”Amber? Wow. You're young…”
”Please confirm.” Phoebe requested.
”Confirm, Aquila-Nine-Four. I am Aquila Five-three. Yellow Range.” Myrissa said formally, while hunkering around a lightly alcoholic iced drink as if she and Phoebe were gossiping.
”Macro-info?” Phoebe requested.
”Five major holders. Well-policed, but not very strong.” Myrissa informed.
Phoebe frowned. That meant that there were five big slave-traders in Fal'Herim, and they had a lot of manpower. Not very professional or very powerful troops, but plenty of them.
”Legion readiness?” Phoebe asked next.
”Dismal. They really do want to focus on the road.”
Phoebe grimaced. So much for Iron Legion support.
”External intervention?”
”Unlikely. Unless you have contacts?”
Phoebe considered. ”Maybe. I'll have to get back to you on that.”
***
So it was that Phoebe went over to Remian as he and Mindy were having dinner at night and outright said, ”Let's free the slaves in Fal'Herim. All of them.”
To which Remian, weird as always, simply nodded and said, ”Okay.”
Mindy almost spilled her tea.