by Paul Kite
They let me down from the platform and led me to Arkenrid, but he wasn’t even paying any attention to me. He stood still, waiting for the buyer. And the buyer didn’t keep him waiting.
A very ordinary drow, just dressed in matte black clothes, came up to us. His clothes were a kind similar to the clothes of real ninjas, only with the face revealed. Two sword hilts protruded from behind his left shoulder, and a sling with a dozen short throwing knives was on his chest.
Arkenrid’s eyes widened to such an extent that they seemed to crawl out of their sockets, and his left cheek was twitching nervously. What is happening to him?
“Master,” the captain of the ship bent down in respect, finally coping with his shock.
“The key,” the drow squeaked out.
“Of course, of course, Master!” Arkenrid handed the key for my collar to the drow hurriedly. It was a small, black triangle, painted with runes.
“The money will be here in five minutes.” The drow took the key and motioned to me. “Follow me well. If you lag behind more than three steps, it will hurt.” He turned his back to me and went somewhere quickly.
“Captain, who was that?” I heard someone's quiet question behind me.
“The Master of Shadows,” Arkenrid said quietly as well.
Chapter 6
A s the dark elf was moving quickly, I barely managed to keep up with him. People gave way to the Master of Shadows; sometimes they bowed, but the majority were just in a hurry to get out of his way. They ignored me like I wasn't a human being, but living, walking furniture or something like that instead.
It was actually so! I was in Alathdor, and as a slave, I had no more rights than any other property.
By the way, what does the title Master of Shadows even mean? It seems very familiar. But I don't remember what exactly the title means.
Lost in thought, I didn't notice how we’d reached the outskirts of the city. Apparently, it was my fate to live only God knew where!
The Master of Shadows had stopped at a big, metal gate that seemed to be fused into the high stone fence that stretched off into the distance in both directions.
Remember, man, the drow had said: “You're a slave!” Slaves are not allowed to talk and ask questions. Later, all the rules will be explained to you, but for now, if my countrymen do not appeal to you, I advise you to keep silent! Otherwise, you’ll know what kind of punishment an offender faces. And, most importantly, your life no longer belongs to you. Is that clear?
I nodded. Silence wasn’t difficult. But I was very curious. What did the Master of Shadows need from me? By the way, I finally remembered who those ‘Shadows’ were.
‘Shadow’ was a short title common to both locals and players. ‘Death from the Shadows’ was the full name of that Guild of dark elves, which included only NPCs. It sounded like ‘ELGHINN DAL VELDRIN’ in the language of drow. Accordingly, ‘Shadows’ was the equivalent of ‘Assassins’ or ‘Robbers’. Despite the fact that the basis for all such classes was similar, they were quite different at higher levels. Accordingly, the unofficial rank of that very class was much stronger than any other! It was the dream of many players, but the dream wasn’t available, because that class belonged only to the NPCs.
The Master touched the gate, gave a quick order in the language of drow, and the gate opened. He made an inviting hand gesture and I was the first one to go in.
I had a look around before we were approached by two dark elves standing on both sides of the gate and, after hearing the order of the Master of Shadows, I was escorted to one of the buildings which was located close to the entrance.
I was in the second training center of the Guild of Shadows. Noar-Rahor was its elven name. And the first center was somewhere in the Dark Forest. I, and one or two percent of all players, knew that information, because it was a secret, and very difficult to uncover. The vast majority of players knew about the most important and main part-the one that was in the lands of the drow, but they had no idea about the second training center which was located in the Free Lands. However, few of the players came there without a very good reason. NPCs didn't like players; I was the exception, because they didn't see me as an immortal. And those players who found the strength and desire to explore the territory of the Free tried to behave very carefully and not attract too much attention.
In addition, slavery was prohibited by law in the country of the dark elves. But the ban didn’t exist in the Free Lands and the drow had more opportunities in receiving an education of Shadow there.
And I think I know why they need slaves. It's not only a free labor force, but also someone to practice techniques on. After all, the usual sparring among students differs from the application of the studied material and techniques on someone. Although it is not clear how they solve the problem created by the difference in levels and, accordingly, the number of lives. But in any case, I will have a ‘fun’ time here, as I can't die because of this collar.
I’d expected to see slave barracks or something like that, but I was wrong. They led me to a small room on the first floor. There was one bed there and nothing else. A large window was covered with a thick cloth; however, there were no bars, but they weren’t necessary. It was impossible to escape from here.
An hour later while I was lying on the bed, there was a warning knock on the door and a young drow entered the room and silently beckoned me over.
On the first floor of the same building, there was a dining room, for ... I would call them servants, as it sounded better than slaves. All, except the drow, had the collars. There were dwarves, orcs, humans… Well, the dark elves had acquired a very diverse collection.
One of the orcs, a huge, green, grinning chef, put some food on my plate. In complete silence, I sat down on a free seat. Sometimes a few short phrases could be heard, but they were about business. No empty chatter. One additional oddity was that no one paid any attention to me. It was normal when I’d been following the Master of Shadows around the city, but here, everyone knew each other.
“Follow me.” I’d only managed to put the spoon in the empty plate when the elf that had brought me here appeared before me.
We went out and went to the nearest building. But we didn’t go inside. The drow changed his course suddenly when he saw a dozen people in different clothes, standing beside a tall man, who was dressed in a gray, shapeless hoodie.
“Uvar,” the elf addressed him, “take him, he’s your responsibility. Tell him the basic rules and give him some work to do. These are Master Zorkhan’s orders.”
“Yes, senior,” the man bowed to the elf and he left us.
He’s also a slave, I managed to notice the collar that glittered on his neck, though he hid it with the hood of his jacket.
“Your name?” Uvar asked me, with complete emotionlessness.
“Kraven.”
“Well, Kraven, stand next to me and don’t go anywhere. I am discussing some issues with the rest of the guys right now, and then I'll deal with you.”
The man quickly gave instructions to the others; it was clear that he wasn’t doing it for the first time. Someone had to clean the toilets, someone had to clean the premises, and someone had to clean the streets. But two people were sent to Corbinel for three days, and they were greatly upset. He even had to curse one of them and kick and cuff the second upside the head. Who is this Corbinel?
“Where are you from?” He turned his attention to me when we were alone.
“Nazhar, Saradan,” I didn’t hide anything or try to deceive him.
“When did you get this decoration?” Uvar pointed to the collar.
“A few days ago.”
“What can you do and what do you know?”
This question confused me. A lot of things, but not in this world.
“Nothing” I confessed honestly.
“Really?” The man quirked an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t have guessed that by your look. You look like a noble man.”
Him too. I look like a no
ble, and so what?! I'm a player, not an NPC. So I hadn’t been taught any wisdom, intrinsic to noble NPCs, since childhood.
“Nothing,” I repeated.
“If I send you to Corbinel too, will you remember anything? As I understand it, you’ve got some problems with your memory,” Uvar said angrily.
“Maybe. But I don’t know who he is. I don’t know anything at all!” I retorted, raising my voice almost to a scream. “And as far as I’d heard, you were ordered…” I emphasized the last word. “To tell me some rules and give me some work.” I am making an enemy here.
“You're an impudent fellow,” the man said through his teeth. “Well, you will have the rules and work.”
The rules are very simple. The drow are kings and gods to those of us who are in the collars, however, that was already clear from the words of the Master of Shadows. There are humans and nonhumans, a kind of principal, who have a certain number of people subordinate to them. And each group, or several groups, are engaged only in their specific tasks. Uvar is the head of the cleaners, and now he has twelve people, including me. And there are more than thirty such managers in this place. They decide what everyone does. If there aren’t enough workers or something else, they may ask another principal for help. By the way, Corbinel is a light elf (how did the dark elves get him?), who manages the most numerous group, responsible for training the drow. Of course, he is always short of workers. ‘Cannon fodder” does not die, the embedded slave collar system works, but it isn’t easy to withstand daily bullying, when you are, several times a day, brought to the extreme boundary between life and death. Many slaves go crazy, because you can’t simply refuse to carry out the order–the decoration around your neck will not allow you to. The drow do not keep such people around for a long time. Those who keep their mind whole, even a little, are transferred to the roughest work, and the rest... The rest just have their collars taken off and are killed.
I won’t be sent to Corbinel just yet, thanks to the order of the Master of Shadows. I was sent to clean the toilets by Uvar, instead. And why had he asked me about what I know and can do if his group does only cleaning?
And as for silence... Yes, there is an unconditional ban on talking. But, If there is not a single hint of a drow’s presence nearby, you can talk as much as you want. The main thing is to not get caught! The punishment is always–to spend a certain time in Corbinel’s group.
Of course, there were no dark elves in the toilets and nearby, so I was able to talk to other slaves here. I learned nothing new, except that Uvar had become a principal not so long ago, about a year ago, and he was described as an envious and spiteful man. But I’d understood that after communicating with him. One more nuance–with a drow’s permission or order, you can be transferred to any other group. But you have to distinguish yourself or be noticed. So I understood Uvar’s question now, and, as a result–I know nothing, so I will not be going anywhere from his group.
It was a strange slavery. Nobody kicked us or yelled at us. We were fed strictly on schedule. In the evening, Uvar gathered all of his group, except the two that had been sent to Corbinel, and led us to the dining room.
After dinner, Uvar said goodbye and told me to be at the meeting at exactly eight in the morning, a meeting that would be held at the entrance of a building that was familiar to me.
The next day, the same thing happened again. Having woken up at seven, I went to the dining room, then I met the Manager of the group and he sent me back to the restroom. Then I had lunch and went back to cleaning the toilets, only in another building. No one gave us time to walk around the territory, although they didn’t restrict freedom of movement.
But everything changed on the third day of my stay there, I ended up unlucky again. I was in a very bad situation out of the blue.
“Uvar, I need another man!” We had been waiting for guidance, as we always had early in the morning, when a dark elf, in exactly the same attire as Master Zorkhan had worn, approached us.
I had already learned from the other slaves that three of the ten Shadow Guild Masters were in that training center, and the chief among them was the dark elf who’d bought me on the market.
“But, Master Hontar, I've just recently sent two to Corbinel,” the man said respectfully and humbly bowed, “His group now has about twenty people.”
“I said,” the elf hissed like a snake, “I need a man! Or do you, yourself, want to enter the training arena and go up against my students?”
“No, Master!” Uvar fearfully backpedaled. “But if you take one more man, who will do the work?” the man whispered, but the drow was absolutely indifferent, and his gaze fell on me.
“Shut up! I’ll take him,” he pointed to me.
“But Master Zorkhan ordered me to…” Uvar tried to protest; though he didn’t like me and he was afraid of this drow, the fear of the most important dark elf exceeded all!
The man's eyes widened in surprise, he’d wanted to say something else, but the drow waved his hand, saying a phrase in dark-elvish, and Uvar was twisted by a severe, unbearable pain.
“Don't touch him!” the elf ordered to those who’d gone to help the Manager, “I'll send my apprentice to pick him up. From now on, you'll be under the responsibility of another Manager. Wait here, you’ll be taken later.”
I stood there like a statue, unable to move. This situation had unsettled me. I just didn’t know what to do, but I knew perfectly well–I shouldn’t expect anything good in the near future.
And what did he do to Uvar? Was that magic? As far as I knew, none of the shadow class had such spells as a part their skills! All of this was very strange!
Master Hontar led me to a building that looked like an ancient amphitheater, with an arena in the center of it. After going through many rooms, we came into a large room, one of the walls of which was a lattice, raised with the help of a lifting mechanism, and it wasn’t difficult to guess what was behind the lattice.
“Urosal, give him any weapon and armor,” he ordered one of the young drow in the room, “I hope he can survive at least a dozen fights.”
“I’m not sure he can, Master. He’s frail and hardly even knows how to hold a sword,” Urosal contemptuously grimaced.
“He'll learn to hold the sword very quickly,” the dark elf grinned and handed the key of my collar to the young elf. “Activate the rebirth. As soon as he gets here, heal him and send him back to the arena.”
“Yes, Master,” Urosal bowed his head.
“Report to me tonight,” Hontar turned around and left the room.
A soft-spoken conversation started among the elves:
“A human again! Weak, worthless people!”
“Shut up! Master knows best.”
“It's not interesting to fight them. This one definitely doesn't know how to fight.”
“Have you forgotten what happened when you fought that Orc? How many times would you have died if he hadn’t had a collar?”
“It was an orc! And I heard he was a berserker!”
“Yeah, a berserker. He'd not even gone into a rage.”
“Don't forget the collar, idiot!”
“Exactly!”
“Oh, you're too young. What's your rank then? The youngest?!”
“None of your business! How long have you been in a senior rank?”
The altercation would have lasted for a long time, but Urosal, who was studying me like a new animal, got tired of the quarreling and stopped their exchange.
“You don't have much time, just as long as it takes me to get to the Armory and back.”
“We're ready!” One of the elves exclaimed and waved his long, double-edged sword around.
“But he isn’t... he grimaced. “Let's go,” the drow turned to the exits, “We'll find you something suitable.”
The Armory room, as it turned out, was not far away. We went through two rooms, then along the corridor and opened the first door on the right.
“What labyrinths there are in this buil
ding! It’s easy to get lost,” I said quietly.
“Yep,” the drow smiled. “It's one of the oldest buildings in the city. In the Free Lands, even, it was there before the demons captured them. It was used for its intended purpose–gladiator fights. Does this mean anything to you?”
“Yes.”
“Then you must understand that not all of the gladiators fought voluntarily. From time to time, there were escape attempts, despite the guards and shackles. There were no collars then.”
“Can you give me a leather armor and a light sword?” I asked, looking at a whole bunch of very different clothes and tools of murder in a huge weapons room. It was impossible to guess what would fit me and what wouldn’t.
And it was also impossible to find out what limitations and characteristics everything had. It was unlikely that the dark elf would give me the opportunity to rummage in here for half a day.
“Yeah,” Urosal slapped me on the shoulder and went confidently to the end of the right wall, where two dozen sets of leather armor hung, and no less than that were laid on the floor.
The elf chose quickly. On the way back, carrying an armor made of dark red, scaly skin, the drow turned to the other wall and, without slowing down, picked up one of the swords in a sheath of brown wood.
“Take these,” he told me and handed me the items. “Take off that stuff and get dressed.”
“Mmm. Over my naked body?” I asked, a little stunned. “Right here?”
“Damnit. You’re right!” The elf emerged from the sword smith and almost immediately returned, bringing with him pants and a jacket made of soft fabric. “There is a cloakroom next door,” he explained. “Go there.”
The clothes didn’t have any characteristics, but the armor and the sword were pleasing to me.
Clothes: Light armor - used by the archers of the Kingdom of Havrtol’s Army (full set - 5/5 items)
Quality: good
Material: reptile skin
Protection: 20
Permanently imposed spells: +10 agility units (when wearing a complete set).
