by Jeff Gunzel
Chapter 12
Kelzson Sen looked rather out of place sitting at a desk pushing papers.
The large, grizzled man dipped his oversized white feather into the black ink bottle for the thousandth time and continued to sign off on what seemed to be a never-ending stack of paperwork. Contracts to sign, receipts to be accounted for; the endless paperwork was the part of his job he hated most. Well, not so much the receipts. Those all translated into coin to fill his pocket.
Kelzson decided he was done for a while, as the hot, sticky room was starting to get to him. Wiping sweat from his brow, the tall man stepped away from his desk and wandered out into the street. It was only a touch better outdoors, as the light breeze did little to cool the air, which was surprisingly warm this early in the day.
With wild, long brown hair and a thick wiry beard to match, he looked every part the slaver. A long, faded scar traveling from his forehead clear down the side of his cheek was the reason for his black velvet eye patch. He was not a man that resembled a paper pusher by almost any measure. Nonetheless, Kelzson was a businessman, and what had to be done had to be done. Being the head slaver certainly had its perks as well.
The large man strolled past the cages set up alongside his building, cages containing cargo he bought as he traveled from town to town. They were given the appearance of carnival cages, set up on high wheels and painted various bright colors. The wood trim beamed with various shades of green, red and yellow. That the variety of bright colors helped make the little prisons appear more festive was no accident. It added a sort of innocence to the trade—an illusion, to be sure.
He strolled past them, tauntingly slapping at the bars with every step. The men inside the cages were frightened, of course, and Kelzson liked to torment them before their assigned arena tournaments. Putting a sword and shield in the hands of a petty thief did not make him a warrior. Of course, that made no difference once you were convicted and sold. From there on, you were property, used to make profit.
Kelzson had deals with arenas all over Tarmerria for his traveling show. He was a shrewd businessman and usually came out on top as far as his business ventures went. Having virtually no competition didn’t hurt either. Of course, the biggest venue was here in Taron, where he stood to make the most profit. He would arrange the fights and get a cut of the door.
The Queen hated the games but couldn’t do anything about them. Those contracts were left exclusively in the hands of Kelzson and the arena owners. But besides that, even she couldn’t deny the taxes received from the shows went a long way to supporting Taron.
He stopped by one cage in particular as he made his rounds. The man here was the only one who didn’t share his sanctuary with anyone else. Kelzson stared into the cage for a moment before banging on the bars. “Wake up, maggot.” he called out as he continued banging away. “How is my prized pet this morning?”
The huge man in the cage remained motionless, lying down at the far side of the cage with his back turned to Kelzson.
“Hey, slave! Just because you make me money doesn’t mean you can igno—”
With frightening speed, the man lunged at Kelzson from across the cage. He leaped straight back as the huge arm fired through the bars, missing him by mere inches. The man had gone from lying down, facing away from him, to almost grabbing his shirt in less than a second.
Kelzson panted hard, trying to compose himself. “I’ll have you whipped, dog!” he growled in a shaky voice.
With his arm still hanging through the bar, swinging back and forth in a taunting fashion, the warrior smiled through his thick black beard. “I almost had you that time, friend. How do you think that would have ended...hmm?” The warrior kept his gaze on Kelzson for a long time.
The slaver wasn’t sure what unsettled him more, the fact that this...animal...had almost killed him due to his own carelessness, or those unnatural green eyes staring through him like some kind of beast. “I’ll have you hung, you crazy monst—”
A tap on his shoulder startled him further. He whirled around to see a messenger standing before him. The young man wore the traditional green and yellow colors that marked him as a representative of the queen.
“And what do you want?” Kelzson snarled, quite jumpy now and afraid of his own shadow. Messengers held no real authority, so Kelzson was not concerned about whether or not the boy was insulted by his tone.
Morcel couldn’t hear what they were saying, nor did he particularly care. He dreamed of getting his hands on Kelzson, and believed his last chance at fulfilling that dream may have just come and gone. The man would be cautious from here on, and an opportunity like that just simply wouldn’t repeat. He began to roll back to the corner of the cage until he faintly heard his name in the conversation. Trying to act as if he hadn’t heard anything, he turned his ear slightly towards the pair and concentrated. The two were definitely looking at him as they made hand gestures in the air. Maybe he was going to be hung after all? A direct order from the Queen, perhaps?
Truth be told, he didn’t care anymore. The hope of ever being a free man had left him long ago. In fact, during some of his forced arena battles, he had considered letting the opponent run him through just to end it all, but his survival instincts always took over and wouldn’t allow him to go through with it. Morcel watched as the messenger gave a brief salute, followed by a click of his heels before spinning around then marching away.
Kelzson began ambling towards his cage wearing a sinister grin. “Well, dog, it seems you’ve made me money once again,” he said with a sparkle in his eye.
Morcel’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. What was this fool talking about?
“Queen Ilirra Marosia just bought your contract, worm!” his tormentor blurted out, laughing.
Waves of emotion flooded through Morcel. I’m free? This living nightmare has finally ended?
“Not so fast, dog,” Kelzson said, as if reading his mind, still wearing that irritating grin. “I’ve been doing this a long time, and I’ve got to say this is a first. You...bought by royalty! I even gave the whore a great price.” Like he was a piece of used furniture to be bartered over. “After all, I’ve made plenty of coin off your hide already, and it’s always a good idea to stay on the good side of the Queen, don’t you agree?”
He purposely brought his face close to the cage this time, knowing Morcel wouldn’t dare touch him. “But you see, your current contract remains intact until tonight. You will have to compete once more, I’m afraid,” the slaver said in a mockingly regretful tone.
A sinking feeling of dread flowed through Morcel like a dam that had been shattered. He understood now. Of course this wretched human being had given the Queen a good price to stay in her good graces. All the while, if something were to happen to him during this last tournament, no blame could be placed on Kelzson. He was just “upholding” the current contract. People had already parted with their coin. How was anyone to know he would not make it through the last round? What a pity.
Kelzson’s eyes lit up. “So you’re not a dumb animal after all. Understand now, do yah? It’s been a pleasure working with you all these years, but if you will excuse me, I have to arrange your execution!”
Morcel lunged at the bars and rattled them savagely. For the first time in years, he actually cared about getting out of the next round alive. He wanted to live!
