Mougin is aware of what slavery is (though he wasn't really aware about how people profited from it), and he knows what a mob is. He doesn't know what [i]the[/i] mob is, though. Even if it was only a one word difference, it seemed to hold a much larger significance. Another annoying quirk of human linguistics.

The minotaur sighed and closed his eyes. Understanding was one thing he was bad at, but he had always been a good listener. The wind brought the sounds nearby towards his ear. More information to glean from. More to understand. Already he was making new associations in his brain. The metal-armed man feared The Mob, thus their employer was probably part of that group, whatever they were. Mougin and the metal-armed man were of similar status, from what he could see, so The Mob clearly had significant influence. Yet a member of theirs deferred to officer Charles, an enforcer of the Law. And even then, it seemed that The Mob were active outside of the city itself, as far away as his own home continent.

He felt as if he was catching a glimpse of a large tangled web of connections. As an outsider it was hard for him to say where to step. Which lines were safe to cross and which would thrust him into the spider's mouth? But, truth be told, it didn't matter that much to him. His people's opinions were that humans always overthought. Mougin thought that his peers could stand to think some more, but he agreed.  His understanding of spoken language was shaky, and the deceptions they weaved, obvious or obfuscated, didn't help at all. But he was starting to be able to see through the smoke. 

At its core, the metal-armed man's statement was borne of concern for his position in society. To live, one needs food. In this city, one bought food with gold. For gold, one had to work. Control the work, control food, control the individual. Their mutual employer, Mr. Silum, was the one who gave them work, thus it was obviously possible for them not to do so. And apparently he also had the means to prevent future work. But did that matter to Mougin? No. His people were of the wilds; if he needed food, he was confident that he could find it. But employment was only one part of the puzzle, and perhaps Mr. Silum and The Mob could make sure he would never have a comfortable stay in Tempum city. Did that matter to Mougin? No. There were many nations of men, and while there were some less friendly to beastmen than others, he had come to this city mostly because of its proximity. True, it would be difficult to live outside of a city, and quality of the food in the wild was vastly inferior to what human chefs made. True, if he went through with this stunt, Mr Silum, or The Mob, or anyone else could end his life. Cut his journey just when it had begun. But again, none of that mattered. His mind was made up. He had a choice, and these little ones did not. In front of humans, in front of his own, he would never be the lesser man.

Mougin opened his eyes. The plan was coming together in his mind, slowly. But time was not kind. He would have to work it out while he acted.
[color=007236][b]"If you do not wish to be involved, then do not be."[/b][/color] He said, rising to his feet. [color=007236][b]"All that I ask is that you do not interfere."[/b][/color]
It was best if neither of his two co-workers involve themselves in the forthcoming events. Implication of some kind was inevitable, and nothing they did would be able to soften the blow. Not to achieve what he wanted to achieve. He stared down at the lid of the container in his hands, the overheard words of Mr. Silum echoing in his ears. 

Mougin leaned over the edge of the container. He whispered some comforting words to them in the mother tongue, before gently placing back on top of the container. Then, he slowly lifted the crate up above his head, letting it rest on his shoulders like a yoke. It was... extremely heavy, and very large, making it extremely awkward to maneuver. His head was bowed forward, making it difficult to see where he was going. He knew his strength wouldn't last very long. But that was fine - if he timed it correctly, he wouldn't be holding it for very long. And besides, the plan wasn't relying on brute strength, but humankind's beloved deception. He was relying on his previous experiences in the city, brief as they were, along with some tenuous connections he had not had the opportunity to check. The plan was built on shaky foundations, but it was the best he could come up with on short notice. It was simple, and held little consideration for his future in the city. But he didn't really mind. If he succeeded then he would be safe enough, and the children would be alright too.

If he failed, then so be it.