As the three walked down the streets of Valcadia, Natalya tugged on Suran’s shoulder, and he dropped back a few steps behind the Baron to match her pace. “So you’re from a different world?” She asked almost teasingly.
Suran quickened his pace. “It’s rude to eavesdrop,” he curtly replied.
She sped up to catch up to him, “I wasn’t listening the whole time, and I didn’t want to walk into the middle of your serious conversation and interrupt everything.”
Natalya was struggling to keep up with him, so Suran sighed and slowed down. “It’s fine, I guess. Next time know you don’t have to exclude yourself from our conversations.”
“Eh, what wasn’t what I had in mind, but okay. What all did you talk about?”
“It was mainly about where I’m from, what to do next, and the house.”
“Wait, what about the house?”
“You didn’t hear? The house we have been staying at, Reginald’s home, is now mine. He acquired Hendrick von Auer’s estate, so he is moving to a new home and giving me this one.”
“Cool, can I live there?”
Suran almost stopped walking as he was caught off guard by the question. It was rather sudden, but as he thought about it, he didn’t find a reason to deny her. “There are plenty of rooms, so I don’t see why not.” Natalya seemed satisfied with the answer and began to hum. To be honest, the result ended up pleasing Suran as well. Even though he did now have a house, there was no guarantee he would use it. It seemed probable his search may take him all over this world, and it would be for the best if Natalya used this opportunity to stay here and followed her own pursuits, free of the trouble that may come from following him.
“Anyways,” Natalya resumed the conversation, “Do you know where we’re going?
“Where exactly, I don’t know, but I believe we are picking up a reward Reginald had prepared for me on behalf of the King.”
“Right you are,” Reginald chimed in from the front. “We are almost there, so I might as well explain. The reason why rewarding you with just a house isn’t enough, even though it is a nice home might I say, is because it is technically incomplete. In the world of lords and nobles and the rich, all these large estates and manors almost always have one more thing: servants or slaves.” He stopped outside of a large warehouse. “So it would reflect poorly on me to not essentially present a complete reward.”
Suran looked around. Just down the road he could see the harbor, or what remained of it. “Where are we?”
“We are at the establishment of my cousin Wylin. He has a lot of fine product, and you have the opportunity to get your pick of the litter.”
Without hesitation, Suran said, “I cannot agree with slaver; I do not want to own slaves.”
Reginald was about to say something, but a portly man sporting a tuxedo walked out and said with a wide smile, “Are you sure?” Everyone could see his unkempt teeth from his ear-to-ear grin.
“Wylin, good to see you!” Reginald exclaimed and the two embraced in a brotherly hug.
“Great to see you, cousin.” Wylin released himself from Reginald and went to Suran, appraising him. ‘So you don’t want slaves, eh?”
Suran did not waver while under inspection, “I am opposed to slavery.” It was barbaric practice, one that he could never support.
“We shall see about that,” Wylin said slyly. He went over to the massive warehouse and opened up a door. “Why don’t we talk inside.” His never fading smile could not dispel the almost palatable devious aura it emitted. Suran looked over to Henry Reginald, who nodded in agreeance with Wylin. Reluctantly, Suran walked into the warehouse.
What hit him first was not what was in the warehouse, it was poorly lit with most of the lighting coming from skylight on the high ceiling making it difficult to clearly see anything, but the nauseous smell that permeated through the air. It was a disgusting concoction that hid each of its components, making it difficult for Suran to tell what was making it. However, he could barely distinguish the odor of blood, sweat, and man.
The door closed behind him and Wylin walked up next to him and said, “Are you sure you don’t want a slave now?” Suran’s eyes grew adjusted to the dark and he saw rows of cages. Walking forward, he peered into the cages and continued to be disgusted. Men and women were shackled and bound in the cage, their malnourished bodies visible underneath pitiful excuses of rags.
“I’m sure.” The scene before him only cemented his disgust with the practice.
“I suppose it can’t be helped,” Wylin said, strolling past Suran while shrugging. “I guess I will keep them in their cages and sell them to whomever comes by.” He went up to a cage and slapped his hand on it causing the metal to vibrate. The creature inside recoiled from the disturbance. “If you don’t take the generous gift my cousin arranging for you, I’m sure I can find someone else to take them on. You would be surprised how many uses people find for these things. Some are used for hard labor, while others as a toy.” He took of his pair of spectacles and cleaned it with a cloth he pulled out from his coat pocket, “I’ve gotten to know quite a few of my clients since they… wear out their products very fast.”
Suran was growing agitated as he listened to the weasel. He saw through Wylin; he was trying to coax him into accepting the offer by emphasizing the distress of these poor individuals. Suran did not intend to play his game. “Then give me one. I will immediately release them.”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Wylin clicked, zooming up to Suran, “That won’t do at all. The gift is from my property, and I would not want to see it wasted like that. If you so happen to release it, I wouldn’t hesitate to reclaim my goods.” He swung around Suran and grabbed onto Henry Reginald’s shoulder who seemed unfazed by the happenings, “Besides, I don’t think that would work out well for Henry here, would it?”
Henry shook his head, “The King and his men are thorough. They would most likely interpret that sort of behavior as a tort on my part, regardless of what you might say.”
“And we both know what that means my dear friend,” Wylin picked up without dropping a beat. “The Black Paladins are not a forgiving bunch, and they would not hesitate to kill my poor cousin in an instant. Besides, since you are so against slavery, maybe you will take better of care of your property better than some of my other clients.”
Suran grit his teeth. This was a battle he was not going to win, but something felt off. Wylin seemed to be trying hard to get Suran to accept. The question was why. Was it out of concern for the life of his family member? To the average person, maybe. Behind those spectacles of his were a pair of scheming eyes. Suran convinced himself there had to be another reason behind this. He could not figure it out. He gave in. “Fine,” he said with a sigh, “I’ll pick one.”
“Glad you saw reason,” Wylin trotted out in front once more. “Come with me and let us look through my wares.”
Suran dragged his feet as he followed. His continual to refer to these people as wares didn’t stop bothering him.
He walked past the cages with Wylin. They were small and cramped. A grown person would not be able to stand in them. He saw full grown men and women to small children not even in their teens stored away. What’s more, is that he got more of a taste of this world; there were more than just humans locked in these cages. Like Keira, he saw men and women with cat like features, ears and tails. Some more cat-like than others. But that wasn’t all, there were several humanoids with animal like features, but those with feline or canine features were the most common.
Wylin was happily explaining everything Suran surveyed. Each ‘item’, as he called it, had different skills and abilities. There were pieces of paper attached to each cage like a price tag that identified the race, sex, age, inherent skills, and so on of the slave within. As he went on, he saw more and more. Beings identified as ‘Dwarf’ or ‘Wood Elf,’ or “High Elf’ and even strange beasts and animals: abnormally large wolves, moving mounds of rock titled ‘golems’, a humanoid beast with several horns, and others.
“Having trouble choosing?” Wylin teased as he showed Suran around. Suran didn’t want to admit it, but he was right. There was no way he could simply choose someone. Wylin continued, “I’m here to help if you need anything; I know my product best.” Suran couldn’t even begin to trust the man. Asking him for advice was far out of the question.
“Hey Suran, what about her?” Surprisingly, Natalya made a suggestion while squatting in front of a cage.
Suran walked over and asked, “You’re ok with this?”
“Why not?” She shrugged. “Besides, she’s got red eyes like you,” she said, pointing into the cage.
Suran hunched over in looked inside. It was fairly dark in the cage, but he could make out crimson eyes. She was almost right, he mused to himself; his eyes were more of a blood red than a crimson. “Is having red eyes rare?” He asked aloud.
“Exceedingly rare in the humanoid species, especially in High Elves,” Wylin chimed in. “Finally interested?”
Suran walked away from the cage towards Wylin. He wasn’t enjoying this process, but he had to get through with it at some point. “What can you tell me about her?”
There was a twinkle in his eyes, “What do you want to know?” Wylin swung over to the girl’s cage. “This one is, as the tag says, a female High Elf. At around 55 years of age, which in human years is 22 to 23, she is at the prime of her youth. Also in great physical condition. If you asked me, I would have probably recommended her as well. She is fit for hard labor, can participate in combat, good for kids. You can find a lot of uses for this one here.” He adjusted the glasses on his face and eagerly waited for input from Suran. “I have to admit; this girl has a good pair of eyes – almost as good as mine!” He said with a sleazy chuckle.
For the average person, what he was saying did sound good, but Suran took everything he said with a grain of salt. “If she as good as you say,” Suran questioned, “then why has she not been taken by someone else?”
Wylin nearly jumped in surprise, “Oooh! Didn’t think I would have a smart shopper today!” He quickly reverted to a seller’s persona. “If you must know, there are a few reasons,” he said seemingly annoyed. “As you can see, this is a warehouse. I primarily deal in bulk sales and trades to individual vendors who go out and cater to more specific markets. It’s rare when someone comes in specifically for one item. In those cases, the client usually knows what they want, so with my expertise, they find themselves what best suits their need. As a respected merchant, I take pride in my work in my ability. I was even nicknamed ‘The Appraiser’ by my colleagues and clients for my ability at identifying talent, potential, and suitability, so I would never betray the trust of my clients by pushing a great product onto them when it isn’t what they want.”
Suran felt there was something missing, so he asked, “Is that all?”
Wylin was no longer annoyed; he instead, looked very smug. “My, you’re sharper than you seem. You’re right, there was one more issue. This one here,” he tapped on the cage, “is a queer one.”
“What do you mean?”
“The unnatural red eyes for starters. High Elves are race generally set in their traditions and beliefs, and they see red eyes as unlucky, a bad omen, freakish, how ever you want to describe it.” Suran could sympathize with that. “Also, the white hair is an issue. Even though High Elves can have those lighter, silky, shiny hair colors, this type of pure white is also very unusual. Among her people, her looks were an aberration, giving her additional baggage.”
“So that’s how it is…” Suran felt pity for the girl.
Wylin shrugged, “So it was. Even though I would rate her at the top in looks and ability, no one wanted her, either in bulk sales or from the few individual purchases, so here she’s been.”
Suran could not help but feel the cruelty of subjecting economics onto the trade of people. Wylin rates her highly, so her price must have matched the assessment. A high price with no demand for someone like her. He still couldn’t accept he was going along with this. There was still much of the warehouse left to go through, but he had no desire to do so. “Take her out of the cage,” he instructed.
“Want a closer look?” Wylin made his way to the cage with his permanent grin.
“No, I will take her.”
“Even better!” Wylin called over one of his workers and he fished out a large iron ring filled with keys. He opened up the cage and gave the key to his assistant who entered it. Clangs rang out as her metal restraints fell to the floor. A moment later, the man came out, leading the girl with a chain attached to shackles on her wrists.
She came out of the cage and into the light of the warehouse. In that cage, she looked small, but when she stood straight, her size surprised Suran; she was at least two to three inches taller than him, and even taller than everyone else present. On her olive skin was a layer of dirt, dust, and grime. She had a strong, but not muscular, build that confirmed she was fit, Wylin was right, but throughout her body, he saw evidence of malnourishment. She was fed, but clearly not enough. Suran wondered how much her impeccable white hair and crimson eyes dissuaded others from taking her because the contrast between her light brown, olive skin with the hair and eyes gave her an undeniable charm and beauty.
Suran was not unsettled by her looks where others might have, but there was something that concerned him; she stood like a rock with zero signs of emotions. She didn’t say anything, she didn’t move. She held a dull face with her striking crimson eyes looking like empty glass. He was not sure how an enslaved person might act once they learned their fate, but her detachment from everything that was going on worried him.
“Wow!” Natalya ran up to her. “She’s bigger than me in more ways than one,” she said with a sly grin, checking her body out.
“Please don’t do that,” Suran chided her. Not only was this not the place for it, he thought, but it also was inappropriate. Still, as he stopped her, he watched for any reaction from the girl. There was none. He went up to Wylin and whispered to him, “Is she alright?”
“I told you she had baggage,” he replied with a shrug. “Now then,” Wylin said, speaking to the group, “Follow me to the back. It’s time to fit her with the spell.”
“There’s a spell?” Suran asked.
Wylin reeled a little in shock, “You don’t know? Slaves are fitted with a spell that binds them to their owner. Once in place, you can control their emotions and actions without fear of retaliation or insubordination. You best remember that too because Valcadia is the slave capital of the North. We are at the forefront of slave technology; we take a great deal of pride in our research and work.”
Suran couldn’t help but shake his head. Magic was a reality in this world he was still not use to, but he didn’t have to understand it to be disgusted by the means it was being used for. “Then let’s hurry up and go.” He didn’t want to spend any more time in here. Wylin pivoted around and led the group toward the shadowy back of the warehouse.
At the back was a comparted room. Wylin knocked on the door and there was a response from an airy old voice, “Come in.” He opened up the door to a spacious room stocked with books and a frail old man at a desk.
“He will take care of the spell for you,” Wylin told Suran. He tapped Henry’s shoulder and bade him outside, leaving Suran, Natalya, the girl, and the old man in the room.
“Don’t worry,” the old man said with a warm smile. “I’ve been doing this job for a long time, so I’ve gotten pretty good at this.” He waited for a response, but no one said anything. With a half-sigh, half-laugh, he got up from his chair, “No need to waste time, I guess.” The man shuffled over and took the girl. He worked on her shackles and popped them off, throwing them to the side. “Come with me, you two.” Both of you followed him to the center of the room that was clear of everything save for two chairs placed back to back. The man instructed them to sit down. “How do you want it?”
“Want what?”
“The spell, of course. You can have it strong and restrict their personalities and emotions, or you can make it lax giving them a little wiggle room. There is some variance, but the end result doesn’t really change. Even then, you will be able to control it to some degree, and you can always come back to me and I can retool it or adjust it to suit your needs.”
The entire spell wasn’t clear to Suran so he asked, “Can you explain what you mean by lax or strong?”
“I’m assuming this is your first time so sure. In any case, the slave will be bond to you, and will have to follow your commands to some degree. We have over the years fine-tuned the spell and the magic behind it so it works nearly all the time. In the few cases that the slave can resist it in, we incorporate safety mechanisms that dissuades them from not following your directive. As for your question, what this will affect is the general free will they will have in day-to-day life and carrying out your orders. On the lax side, they will complete the task but may take some liberty in doing so, and they have relative freedom to do other things should you not disallow. The stricter you get, the less they will do for themselves, and the more they will rely on your orders and rules to dictate their life. They will follow orders more cleanly and their emotions and personalities will be suppressed should they get in the way.”
Magic was as fascinating as it was scary. It’s supposed range in application and use made Suran uneasy. He would need to study the topic later. Going on without knowing just how much power and finesse magic is capable of would be treacherous. “I would prefer you make it lax in nature,” Suran requested without hesitation.
“Alrighty then! Just sit still…” His voice trailed off, and Suran began to feel a discomforting sensation through his body. The old man began muttering to himself, words and sentences whose meaning escaped Suran’s understanding. Even stranger, a dim light came from the bony fingers of the man. The light bobbed and weaved through the air and enveloped the space between Suran and the girl’s back. Throughout the process, he felt several discomforting pricks along his back and neck. At the same time, there was a slight sapping sensation that seemed to suck some of his strength straight out of him.
“Done!” The man concluded after several minutes. He left out a large sigh and slunk into his chair, “That was a lot tiring than I thought it would be; I had to work hard on you two for some reason.” He then began grumbling about his age. After collecting his breath, the man got back up, “I’m going to go grab lunch actually. You are free to go.” He shuffled out of the room, cracking his bones along the way.
It was done, and Suran felt something different, but he wasn’t sure what it was. If he concentrated, he could sense a sort of entity in the back of his mind – like a connection of sorts. However, it was hard to grasp. Something was there, but only if he concentrated. When he let his thoughts drift, it would quickly vanish. Not knowing what it was bothered him, but it wasn’t annoying at least.
He got up from his chair and went around to see how the girl was doing. She had the same dull face with a hint of exhaustion. “Are you feeling alright?” She certainly wasn’t vocal so far, so he felt he needed to take the initiative.
Slowly, she nodded her head. Suran was pleased; it was progress, but he wondered, was she answering because she wanted to, or because the spell was making her? He pushed those thoughts to the side. Worrying about them would do him no good. At any rate, he was now responsible for her. “Are you hungry?” She nodded her head again. “We have other places to go, but food can come first.” His other matters could wait. Who knows how long it has been since she had a proper meal. “First,” he said, contemplating her situation, “A bath might be in order to get you cleaned up. A proper set of clothes as well.” Getting washed could wait to the end of the day, but having her go out in tatters that barely covered her was not acceptable to him. “Natalya, would you mind seeing if Wylin has set of clothes for her?”
She understood the situation and energetically left the room. Now it was just him and her. “Now, I have an important question to ask you: do you want to be free?” Wylin and Henry might have some choice words for him asking this, but he didn’t care. He carefully watched her, but she did not respond. He clarified, “What I mean, is that if you ask for it, I will do my best to give you your freedom. You don’t have to be my slave or bound to me. You can be free to live your life the way you want it and I am willing to help you get settled if need be. The choice is yours.” He waited. She did not respond.
Suran stopped for a moment and wondered why she would not reply. Should it not be desirable for a slave to have their freedom? “Do you understand what I am asking you?” She immediately responded by nodding her head. It reassured Suran that she did understand what was going on, but he still found this strange. Perhaps she needed some time to think, so he remained quiet.
Several minutes passed and he asked again, “Do you want me to give you your freedom?” Slowly, she shook her head; she had rejected his proposition. Suran sighed. He had no other choice but to accept his circumstances now. As much as he found this arrangement disagreeable, it appeared she did not for some reason. He was, for better or for worse, now stuck.
No matter, he thought. He would simply have to live with it – and her – for now. In the middle of all this, Suran remembered he forgot to ask something, something he should have done from the start. “What is your name?”
The girl’s eyes were fixed to his feet, but she raised her head at the question. Her face held the dull expression, but there was a twitch of anxiety. For the first time her mouth opened and, shakily, words came out, “I-Iylia. Iylia Yevonis.” Her words were soft and hushed with a tinge of fright and fear.
“I am Suran Ibrahim. From now on you will be in my care.” She locked her gaze with his, but swiftly averted.
Twice, Wylin had mentioned the word ‘baggage’. Reflecting on his past, Suran thought of all the mistakes he made. He wanted desperately to undo his wrongs. Atone for his sins. This girl, Iylia, had her own past and world of problems that tormented her. He decided to help as best he could. She was just one girl with her own individual problems, but his crimes were numerous. His evils demanded amends, and he would pay for all of them – one at time if necessary.
Forerunner's Odyssey 