My translation stuff

“Welcome to the Peasbury arena!” said an employee, smiling, as soon as she entered. “Today’s fights shall begin shortly. Visit our tavern, make yourselves comfortable—there’s no better place to enjoy the show!” So the fights are on a schedule , thought Stella. They don’t just go at murder from dawn to dusk. It was only natural, she supposed, considering that there were bets involved. “I’m not here for the fights,” she said. “I’m looking for a capable bodyguard, and a certain slaver told me that I might find one here.” “Oh, I see! This way then, miss. I’ll help inform your decision in any way I can. Is it just you and the gentleman?” “Yes. And don’t worry, I have the coin. I own a store under the protection of the Stock Company. You can run all the background checks you want.” “Oh, that’s all right; I’ll take your word for it. But I must say, you’re quite the independent young lady. Your parents must be proud. Through this door, miss.” They were ushered into a clean, well-maintained dr...

“This neighborhood is truly hopeless,” said Stella. “No, actually, this whole town.” “I’m sorry,” said Beck. “If only I looked scarier, nobody would’ve bothered you . . .” Ten of you might have looked scary enough , though Stella, but that’s not something I could endure. “Is everywhere in this town this dangerous?” “Not everywhere, no. There’s the North District, where the rich people live, but the gate leading there is kept tightly shut. And well, there’s the Company’s territory. It’s safe enough for us.” The gangs milked every establishment and individual in their territories out of their hard-earned money in exchange for protection, and those who didn’t pay had to fend for themselves. They hadn’t come up with the system; it was the mayor’s political model. The weak and vulnerable of this town would find no protection in the law. “So here it doesn’t matter that we’re citizens,” said Stella. “Nonpaying citizens are as good as outsiders.” “That’s how it works. And a good thing too, or...

After breakfast, Stella prepared for her second trip to the slave market in the Central District. She was planning to leave Marie in charge of the store and take Rye with her, but . . . “The slave market? Why would you go there? I’m not going. I hate that place.” . . . she refused to go. “I want to buy someone to guard the store,” said Stella. “And I’d like you to come with. Without a second opinion, I’d just buy another interesting-looking human on impulse.” “. . . Stop talking about buying people like it’s nothing. People are not cattle. You do understand that, right?” Rye didn’t attempt to hide her grimace. Stella considered what Rye said. I suppose that’s one way to look at it. “Let me correct myself, then. I want to buy some furniture that understands human language. And I want a second opinion, so—” “That’s even worse! It’s the notion of buying people that I can’t accept. Ugh, just thinking about it is making my skin crawl!” Rye punched the table. She had a very strong sense of ...