“Move, you idiots.” barked Garrot. “Down.”
Banden led Chazod’s line down the gangplank toward a receiving dock that was built of stone. From what Chazod could tell they were at the rear of the coliseum, a place the general public would never have access to. There were horses with loaded carts all waiting on the avenue and workers brought crates up and down ramps into the coliseum. Farther down, Chazod heard some shouting. Beyond a barred gate that led to what looked like the city proper Chazod saw a group of men and women in white and black robes. All of them had short, trimmed hair and Chazod thought they looked like a religious sort, though none of them wore the star of Aeoria. From this distance it was hard to tell, but he thought they all had a pair of red stars on their shirts. They all held signs, but Chazod couldn’t read or write, so he had no idea what they said. He could, however, hear their angry shouts. They were saying something about slavery and prostitution being an abomination in the eyes of the Goddess. Activists? The churches back home would never protest the dealings of the kingdom. Chazod wondered why the city guard weren’t mowing them down with bolt-throwers or Saints there to take off their heads.
Chazod shuffled down the gangplank behind Maddox, chains scraping and the plank bowing and bouncing as they went. At the bottom Chazod saw a number of finely dressed noblemen standing, their eyes raking over him and the others in appraisal. Rennic was there too. He was whispering in the nobles’ ears as he pointed at the captives coming down the gangplank. At his words the nobles would nod their heads or rub their bearded chins contemplatively. None of them seemed to notice or care how the lanky, pale man in tight, black leather danced about their space like a freak, his red lips always curled in a smile.
Behind the nobles stood their entourage of knights. They were all in full plate armor, white and lacquered to a glossy finish. Upon their breastplates were emblazoned a golden phoenix, and white capes draped from their shoulders. Among their number were a few other knights of some type. They were clad in black armor with black shrouds over their form. It seemed strange to Chazod that there wouldn’t be any Saints there to protect so many nobles.
“Line up.” said Garrot. “Line up, all you.”
Chazod and the others all formed something of a line in front of the nobles as the women and children came down the plank next.
“You’ve done well again, Garrot.” said one of the nobles, his dark eyes lighting up at the sight of Banden. Chazod watched the sharp-bearded man as he now walked down the line, briefly looking each of them over as Rennic skipped along beside him. “They smell awful, as usual, but we’ll get them cleaned up. Well done.”
“Thank you, Exalted Lord Balin.” said Garrot.
“Where are they from?” asked Balin.
“Narbereth.” said Garrot. “Won’t be going back for a while. Some type of uprising going on.”
“I see.” said Lord Balin, stopping in front of Jaquin. “Some of these don’t look fit for fighting, however.”
Rennic hopped behind Jaquin. “But look how fair he is.” Rennic traced his pasty hands around the man’s face, making Jaquin flinch. “No scars, no brands. Would make a great toy at a brothel, or a splendid servant to a wealthy man.”
Balin screwed his lips up, thinking.
“Look with me upon him.” whispered Rennic. “He’s fair. So fair fair fair fair fair.”
Lord Balin rubbed at his pointed beard. “Yes. Yes, I think he would make a fine servant.”
“But…” began Jaquin. “I’m… I am a free man!”
Rennic placed a pale finger to Jaquin’s lips. “Shh.”
Jaquin turned around as best he could, being that he was bound to the others in the line. “Don’t shush me!” he protested. “I am a free man! I am no slave! You can’t sell me!”
Rennic hopped back, scowling. Then those red lips of his curled into a smile. “Oh, he’s feisty.” said Rennic. He skipped around the horrified Jaquin, giggling. “Lord Balin, he will make a fine warrior for you. Look. Look at him. Such a fine, feisty warrior.”
“A warrior? I’m no warrior!” cried Jaquin. At this point the other nobles had all walked up to do some inspections of their own.
Balin tilted his head back and forth, his lips screwed up. Chazod huffed. He could see the noble wasn’t buying it.
“Oh, but wouldn’t his blood run red and beautiful,” whispered Rennic. The freak traced a pale finger across Jaquin’s chest down to his belly and Chazod swore he heard Jaquin scream. “So red. So beautiful on the arena floor. Buy him. Make him fight.”
Balin started nodding. “I… I suppose he could be in the arena…”
At that Banden tilted his head up and let loose a roaring cackle. “Go ahead, waste your money on him!” Chazod started laughing too. The nobles all looked their way for a moment, but then Rennic caught their attention again.
“Think of how red his blood will be.” said Rennic. “The people will cheer. The people will pay. They pay for the blood, and his will be so red and beautiful.”
Jaquin looked even more terrified now. He began pleading his case to the nobles. “I’m no fighter! I can’t fight!”
“Buy him. Buy him.” whispered Rennic. “Such beautiful, red, blood.”
Chazod could hardly believe this Balin fellow was still considering buying Jaquin, let alone that interest in the man was somehow starting to pique with the other nobles.
“I’ll buy him!” said a larger, fatter one of their lot. He was dressed in a velvety, copper doublet and a silver coif. “I could use him. I know the perfect customer.”
“Wait your turn, Jord.” said another noble. He was a blonde-haired man in a deep-green doublet. “Let’s start the bidding at twenty phoenix, shall we?”
“But…” Jaquin’s face went pale as the nobles all began calling out their prices. Garrot scrawled down the bids on a piece of parchment. Chazod shook his head, thinking them all suckers.
Even before the bidding had ended, Rennic hopped a little further down the line and came up behind Chazod. “And look at this. A great fighter, this one is. Wouldn’t you love to have him fight in your arena?”
Chazod wrenched his shoulders from the creep. “Don’t touch me, asshole. I’ll rip your fucking throat out once I’m out of these cuffs.”
“See!” hissed Rennic, grinning ear to ear. “So much spirit. The cheers in the arena will echo for miles. Buy him. Buy him. He’ll make you so much money.”
All the nobles flocked to Chazod, oohing and ahhing over him. With his wrists and ankles shackled Chazod did his best to swat them away from him.
“I’ll give fifty phoenix, easy.” said Balin.
“One-hundred.” said one of the other nobles.
“Whatever the highest price, I’ll beat it by ten-percent.” said Balin.
At that something of an argument started among the nobles, but it was finally decided that Lord Balin would buy him for two-hundred phoenix.
“Such a lovely price.” whispered Rennic, smiling. His cold, white hands pushed Chazod’s cheeks up into a smile.
Chazod yanked his head away, and Rennic danced over to Maddox. Chazod spit on the ground and scowled at the freak. He watched with disgust as the nobles hung on every word Rennic said to them, as if he could speak no lie, nor ever lead them astray. Maddox went for one-hundred-and-fifty phoenix and Padraic nearly the same. Banden went for an amazing five-hundred phoenix. Chazod wasn’t sure what a ‘phoenix’ was, but he assumed it was the currency of whatever kingdom they were in, the equivalent of a gold crown back home. He watched as Rennic skipped down to the end of the line and presented the rest. Chazod shook his head as the naive nobles overpaid for more fools like Jaquin or inexperienced pit-fighters that he had never even seen in the arenas back home.
Eventually the bidding on the men completed and the nobles moved on to the line of women. The knights in white armor began unchaining
Chazod and the other men, and they all rubbed their raw wrists and ankles as the shackles came off. They were then divided up into lots based on which noble they had been purchased by. Chazod gripped hands and smacked the backs of Banden, Maddox and Padraic, finding solace that they had all been taken by Lord Balin. It was rare in the slave trades to find yourself among friendly faces and it was a welcome chance for them all. Jaquin was part of their lot too, but he just kind of stood off to the side. None of them really knew the man and Chazod found little reason for getting to know him better. He wouldn’t last a day in the arena.
Chazod now watched as some knights brought forth a couple crates they called “ancillaries”. Inside the crates were sacks of clothing and the items taken off each of them when they were captured. Anything of great value such as jewelry, gold and silver was missing, but most of the other stuff remained. To his surprise, Chazod saw his Everlight dagger among the various junk and hoped he might get it back. He found it curious that neither Rennic nor Garrot had paid it any attention when they took it from him. Either they had no idea what it was worth, or they just weren’t paying attention. Chazod smirked as Jaquin began arguing with the knights to give him back his belongings. The man really just didn’t get that he was a slave now.
After one of the knights finally smacked Jaquin across the face, Chazod turned his attention to the female auction, hoping to see what might become of Adalia. From what he could gather, the nobles all seemed to own a brothel together and were looking for exotic beauties from around the world to bring in new customers. The women were all in a line, and like the men, wore nothing but plain smocks, though they also had simple, black veils over their faces. Chazod watched as one of the curious nobles lifted one from a woman and then recoiled. Chazod chuckled. They must never have seen a woman from Narbereth before.
The shock of seeing a noseless woman was too much for the noble and he began shouting his displeasure at Garrot. But then Rennic danced over to him, smiling and giggling and telling him how exotic Narberethan women were, and in short order the bidding began.
At first the auction started off just how Chazod thought it would. The most attractive women were quickly snatched up by the nobles to work in the brothel they owned. But then Rennic came behind Adalia’s girls, none of which were older than twelve. “Look at these pretties. So young, so nubile. And the mother. Oh, the price men would pay to have all three together. So much money. So much money.”
Balin shook his head in disgust. “This goes too far.” He turned to Garrot. “I told you, no children.”
“But look,” said Rennic, red lips curling in a smile. His hand danced around one of the girls’ cheeks. “So soft. Touch it. Touch it, my Lord. Some men pay more for youth.”
“No.” said Balin. “No children.”
“Now wait,” said Jord, the fattest of the nobles. “Maybe Rennic is right. We could be losing money.”
Balin’s brow furled.
“So much money,” urged Rennic. “So soft. So fair. She could please so many. Tender skin. Touch it. Touch it.”
The nobles moved in, rubbing their paws on her cheeks.
Balin seemed to relent. His lips twisted up in contemplation as he gazed down on the girls.
“The money. The money. Money money money money money.” whispered Rennic.
“Think about it.” said Jord. “Think about the money we could make! There are laws prohibiting such youth in brothels, but in ours… We’re Exalted, Balin! We can sell them! The money! The money!”
“King Dagrir will never go for it.” said Balin, shaking his head.
“I could sit on the Council.” said Rennic. He danced around the girls and then skipped his way between all the nobles. “I could talk to the King. I could make him hear me.”
The nobles all began nodding.
Chazod had seen enough. He placed his hands to his mouth and called out as loudly as he could, “Hey assholes, they make medicine! They’ll make you more as nursemaids than they ever will as whores. The mom’s a terrible fuck. Gave me the red sores. They all got it. I suspect that’s why she learned how to make medicine, to try to find a cure. If they find it, let me know.” Chazod made a show of itching his crotch as the nobles all stared at him. He had never had relations with Adalia or any of her girls, but hoped the threat of incurable red sores might frighten the nobles away from buying them as prostitutes. Chazod surreptitiously kicked Banden in the foot.
“The young bitches use too much teeth, so I take them from behind like animal!” bellowed the large, dark-skinned man, pumping his hips. “Gave me the red sores, they did!” He pulled up the front of his smock. “Look at my enormous cock! It fucking burns!” Banden threw his head back into a roaring cackle.
Chazod stifled his own laugh. The man really did have the red sores. Chazod knew he didn’t get them from Adalia’s girls, but it definitely sold the bit.
The nobles took one more look at Adalia and her daughters and then moved down the line. “Fifty phoenix for the lot of them.” said Balin, passing them by. “I’ll hire them out as nursemaids.”
Chazod felt a gauntleted hand smack him across the back of his head. He turned. Standing there was one of the shrouded knights. He had long, brown hair and eyes of the same color. Up the arms of his black armor Chazod noticed he had spiraling ram horns painted. At his side hung a sword in a black scabbard whose pommel held an orange crystal that seemed to glow with its own light. The man stared Chazod in the eyes and nodded—almost, Chazod thought, in thanks. “Next time you pull something like that, you address the Council with, ‘my Lords’, not ‘hey assholes’. Understood?”
Chazod smirked. “Sure thing. So who the fuck are you, my Lord?”
“Gah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!” laughed Banden, slapping Chazod on the shoulder.
“I am Lord Raygar, Dark Star Knight of Exalted Lord Balin.” said the black-clad knight, smiling ever so faintly. He handed a large sack to one of the white knights. In it were all of Chazod’s and the others’ possessions. “Come with me.”
He and two of the knights in white armor led Chazod and his fellow captives down a ramp that led into the coliseum’s underworld. It was a network of arched tunnels lit by gaslamps on the walls. There were many branches leading off, and many gated doorways with armed guards. As they made their way, Chazod could hear the clamor of swords on shields. It wasn’t real battle, he knew. Just sparring matches by the sounds of it. The smell of sweat also became more pronounced.
“Where are we?” asked Jaquin.
“The coliseum of Durtania.” said Raygar.
“No, I mean, what country?” said Jaquin.
“Duroton.”
Chazod and the others all looked at one another. Duroton? Chazod eyed the curious, spiraling ram horns painted on the man’s armor and that brilliant, orange crystal in his sword’s pommel and wondered if he was one of the unholy knights of Duroton he had heard of; a man born of a union of woman and demon.
Jaquin’s face lost its color. “D-Duroton? Y-You mean to sacrifice us to demons?” Chazod thought Jaquin looked ready to run.
Raygar stopped and turned to them all as they came upon a wide hall lined on one side with some crates and what looked like spare building materials. There were some large stones and stacks of bricks set against the wall. “You will quickly unlearn the lies told to you in your kingdom. You need not fear any demons here.”
“Then what are you?” asked Chazod. “You’re not one of the demon knights?”
Raygar gave an amused smile. “Dark Star Knights are not the spawns of demons.” he said. He turned his head and lifted his long hair, revealing a strange mark scarred upon the back of his neck. Chazod thought it was not unlike the stellaglyphs tattooed upon the necks of Saints. Raygar’s was a tilted disc with some type of beam radiating from it.
“You’re a Saint?” asked Padraic.
Chazod huffed. “He’s a che
ap imitation. That’s not Star Armor, and his sword’s not star-metal.”
Raygar smirked. “No. Dark Star Knights are not Saints. But neither are we cheap imitations.” He took off his shroud and handed it to one of the white knights, revealing his pitch-black armor. Chazod suddenly felt a strange force surround him; like he might simultaneously float away or be crushed to the earth. A disc of fine dust was swept off the stone floor and began spinning around Raygar’s waist. Chazod and the others all stepped back.
“We control the power of the Dark Stars.” said Raygar, holding out his hands. The spiraling disc spread out from him, and in an instant Chazod felt himself tossed backward with the others and they tumbled across the floor. The knights in white armor laughed.
Chazod got to his feet, eyeing the man suspiciously. Behind him he heard Jaquin start whimpering. Banden whispered something about witchcraft.
“And we also control the power gifted to our Crystallic Swords.” said Raygar, drawing the broadsword from his side. He walked over to the stacks of stones where a large boulder sat. “My sword’s name is Rampart and its power is strength.” The sword began to glow with an orange aura that encompassed Raygar. He turned to the boulder and slammed his fist down upon it, shattering it like glass.
Raygar looked at Chazod and laughed at his astonishment. “But do not worry,” he said, sheathing his sword. “My power comes not from demon or devil, but from the Jinn who blessed me so that I might defend the Lands of Duroton.” He took his shroud back from the knight and slipped it over his head. “Now, come with me. You will learn all there is to know about Duroton in due time.”
Raygar turned a corner and led them down a narrow corridor that came to a spacious, round chamber where a fire blazed in a pit at its center. All around where holding cells where dirty men sat, most of them shirtless or in rags. Chazod could tell that some of them were from Narbereth by the slave brands on their necks. Others, however, looked like southerners from Escalapius with tawny complexions or dark skin like Banden. A few were pale with dark hair, surely from Valdasia. All were muscular but malnourished.
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