The Coastland City

A/N

Red Sonja? Who's Red Sonja? I dunno what you're talking about XD

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2 Weeks Later

Nucerian Coastland, City of Hyrkan

Freedom.

In the short time that he'd been alive, it felt like ages since he'd tasted the open air of the countryside. Angronius paused to inhale deeply of the crisp morning breeze and smiled. It smelled better than the sweetest incense of the Palace Praxica, tasted finer than the wines and fruits of the ludus gladiatorius, and caressed his skin better than all of the comely body-slaves that his fellow gladiators coveted.

He walked for days, avoiding the main roads and towns closest to Desh'ea. When he'd traveled a considerable distance, Angronius allowed himself into the more frequented places so he'd be easily missed among the common folk. The man pulled his cowl tighter around his neck as he peered over the cliff overlooking his destination, seeing the the coastland city a short distance from where he stood.

Hyrkan, the port-city and birthplace of his last opponent in the arena. Angronius did not know everything about the republic, but he was a quick study. Hyrkan possessed many things, chiefly among them were ships.

The Sodian Sea, he gathered, was one of many great and mighty bodies of water that divided the lands of the known world. A mere vein in the heart of the Maw of Orcus, the largest ocean in existence, but enough to put a strain on the reach of the republic. Lord Marcellus wouldn't even know where to look for him, and even if he did he would not waste that much coin for his capture. To cross it, he would require a vessel sturdy enough to brave both the elements and the sea monsters that dwelled in its depths.

As he neared the city, Angronius paused again when his eyes met a familiar and greatly loathed sight.

Slaves, thousands of them, working the mines and hauling off stones for the quarries. Their hungry and thirsting mouths lowed like sickly cattle, and their trembling bodies wavered under the weight of their burdens. Slave-drivers lashed agoniser-whips and barked orders here and there. This particular breed of slaves were the remnants of conquered kingdoms, enemies of the republic who refused to bend to their will, living their last remaining days toiling for the nation that broke their backs.

For all Angronius suffered as a gladiator, these slaves fared far worse than he ever did. They had no reward for their work, no glory for their deaths- only peace when they finally collapsed into the dust to join the others who went before them.

This was not life, but damnation.

Sorrow and pity moved his heart, but what could one man do for all those souls languishing all over Nuceria? He barely got himself out of bondage, how would he fare in the attempt to free thousands- millions even? It would be a short-lived venture, for all certainty.

With his thoughts heavy, Angronius reluctantly turned away from the scene but did not turn a deaf ear to the cries of the damned. Their gods, however, ignored their prayers no matter how hard they screamed into the heavens. Only he, who had once been a fellow slave, let their howls and desperate pleas bore into his mind, so he'd never forget.

He approached the city outskirts and tarried a bit to study its defenses.

The gates were not as guarded as he thought they ought to be, and he realized later the reason why. Nuceria had no more enemies to conquer, and it was through this hubris that their guardsmen had grown lax. Without a reason to raise their weapons, and having grown fat from the excesses of their victories, they were lions with neither teeth nor claws.

Hyrkan stood as Reksia's sister, but not as an equal, nor would she have it so. The capital city's domain was the face of the earth, Hyrkan's was the face of the sea.

If there was never a collective of the most brilliant minds devoted to war, Nuceria's penchant for architectural engineering was just as unmatched. The sons of Hyrkan built their city right over the shores of the Sodian, borne aloft by mighty pillars that bore deep into the sands to weather the tides for eternity. And upon these pillars sat a paradox of glorious vanity and wretched poverty. For all her distinctiveness, Hyrkan was still a Nucerian city.

Her daughters, on the other hand, made Hyrkan more beautiful than a port-city should ever be.

The women of Hyrkan were unlike the trollops of Reksia, who adorned themselves in costly finery and painted eyes. Women of the coast wore no fancy dresses, if they wore anything at all, preferring the simplicity of seamless robes that parted suggestively in all the right places. If any paint adorned their skin, they would be present in the winding tattoos that were so neatly etched into their arms and legs.

They were the daughters of Lilith, who scorned the trappings of nobles and proudly displayed the bodies their mother goddess blessed them with.

Seamstress, merchant, whore or sailor- it made no difference. To see a Hyrkan woman naked was no strange thing in the coastal city.

As for the men, they were an honorable sort. Should any foreigner try to lay unjust hands upon their women, by right of law, they would be crucified. Hyrkan men held all women sacred, whether they be slave or freeborn. To be sold to a Hyrkan master was less of a hellish existence compared to others, for women slaves were given a more comfortable life under their roof, like a valued pet or prized novelty.

That fact brought small comfort to Angronius, the plight of the men slaves still angered him.

To him, all men were born free. To shackle another, to make them as low as animals, was a great sin that he could not tolerate. It boiled the blood in his veins to hot oil and tore at his self-restraint.

An empire who built itself upon the backs of slaves was as hollow as brittle geode.

He entered the city and made his way towards the ports, so he might find his means of traversing the great watery divide. He passed the marketplace, where the merchants plied their trade in goods and flesh. Jars of the finest wines were lined up in stalls, just a few feet away from the local tavern. Exotic animals, of both land and of the air, paced and fluttered in their cages while the hawkers haggled over their prices. Beautiful women slaves, shaved and oiled, posed naked with practiced grace beside their masters.

There were no men slaves in the market, and Angronius knew why. They were all working in the fields or the mines as laborers. These women would be used for other purposes, light labor or something more base.

The right corner of his lip curled into a disgusted grimace, and the man doubled his pace so he could leave the market before his short temper got the better of him.

He followed the salty sweetness of the sea until at last he reached the harbor. Hyrkan's magnificence did not reside in her high towers or walls, Hyrkan's magnificence was in her ships, her sailors and her ports. The finest ships of Nuceria, born to traverse the wind and tide, were all made in the coastland city's harbor. From the lowly fishing boat to the indomitable warship, all were crafted by Hyrkan's engineers.

It was only fitting that as the local saying went, 'only a Hyrkan crew for a Hyrkan ship', that every republican ship was manned by an exclusively Hyrkan crew.

They were masters of the Sodian long before Nuceria pulled them into her breast and made them a part of the republic, Angronius wondered if he would require a crew as much as a ship.

He pondered long about his options, only to have his thoughts interrupted by the feeling of something bumping into his legs.

A girl child, no older than six years, stumbled backwards and fell on her backside. Her dress was stained from the mud, but was easily distinguishable from a plebeian's garb. She was a rich man's daughter.

The joyous cries of mirth halted in her mouth as she stared up at the giant.

He was monstrously large, too large for a mortal man. The tattered cloak that obscured much of his body betrayed hard and steely muscle wrapped across powerful limbs of star-metal. The spirit of war seethed from within his flesh, threatening to tear its way out of his battle-tested skin. The girl trembled before him, but when she laid her fearful eyes upon his face, that same fear faded away into nothing.

There was no malice in his kind eyes, no hate on his lips and cheeks. If anything, there was only amusement in his expression.

When he reached down to help her up, he only needed to extend two fingers. The girl, innocent and trusting, grasped the big man's digits and hauled herself up.

"I'm sorry." She said, hiding her hands behind her back in shame.

A polite lass, this one.

Angronius smiled, "You've wandered far from your parents, girl."

"I did not!" She yipped, pointing to her mother who stood busy arguing with a fishmonger just a few meters away from them. The girl crossed her arms and pouted, "She's right there! Besides, a stray took my ball."

The aforementioned stray mongrel had taken the girl's toy far into the docks, and disappeared behind the wharfs.

"I'm sure she'll get you another one." Angronius offered her his hand, "Come."

Together, they approached the woman at the stall, and the man returned the lost girl to her mother. Upon seeing her errant child delivered by the hands of a stranger, the woman was quick to scold her. "Manara! Did you wander off again?" She pinched her daughter's ear, eliciting a surprised yelp from the lass.

"Ow! Mama, it wasn't my fault!" Manara protested, fighting back the tears in her eyes. "A stray stole my ball, the one Papa gave to me! I swear by Mother Lilith!"

"The girl speaks the truth." Angronius said, stepping back. "Do with that how you please, but remember to be thankful she remains in your arms. There are many in this crowd who wouldn't be so noble."

The woman drew her head back and glared at the giant with piercing sky blue eyes. Her bright golden locks, held together by red beaded ceremonial ties, flowed gently in the wind. She didn't wear anything save for a satin loincloth, and some golden laces to lightly obscure her ample breasts. The faint lines of age were present on her face, brought upon by years of hard work under the merciless sun.

Angronius' stature didn't scare her. He wasn't the first tall man she'd seen, and she was not impressed.

Although, he did have a point. Men of his ilk were of the unsavory kind, but he proved to be a notch higher than the sort. That bit of goodwill deserved some respect, and so the woman gave it to him.

The fire in her eyes faded into ash, leaving room for humility as the woman took his words to heart. "I am, stranger. I am grateful." She turned to her daughter, "Don't wander off next time, girl. A toy's not worth your life, not after your father paid so much to buy it back."

Angronius tarried a little to watch them leave with their purchases, then offered to carry the baskets for the woman when he noticed it was too heavy for her to take on alone.

The woman harbored suspicion for the giant's chivalry, but said nothing of it. She allowed him to bring the baskets up until the gate of her house, which was some ways down the nearest street. The house wasn't a palace, but it was better than a pauper's hovel. Some attending slaves opened the gate for her and ushered in Manara.

"I have no money on me, I've spent the last on that fishmonger's produce." The woman said, "But my husband should have something for your trouble. Wait here."

Angronius wondered why he bothered to do as she said, for coin was of little interest to the mind of a former slave. Growing under the cruel tutelage of the ludus, and in the world of the coliseum, he'd only known the price and value of blood and flesh.

Gold was just something to give it meaning to their masters.

Soon, the master of the house came personally to pay Angronius for the little errand, that he might be on his way. "Ah, there you are! I apologize for the delay, let's get this business done and over with, shall we?"

Angronius didn't say anything, finding himself unable to utter a single word as his eyes turned hateful in an instant.

His hands, moved by passion, shot out like twin serpents lunging for their prey. Their jaws clamped shut over the little lord's neck and hoisted him up. The sound of clinking coins scattering all over the street gained little attention from the raging barbarian, for all his ears could hear were the desperate gasps of his victim struggling to find his breath through the noose slowly crushing his windpipe.

The hood fell back, revealing Angronius' face to the man. His voice, though heavy with rage, was low and even like the growl of a crouching tiger. "Look at me, you wretch. Do you not recognize this face?"

The aged face, contorted with desperation, relaxed as realization dawned. He didn't know how, but within a year the boy had grown quickly into manhood. The long but well-trimmed beard moved as Autelus the Merchant whispered his name, "The Child of the Mountain?"

"Yes! Yes, it is I!" Angronius cried, not caring in the slightest that his bellows caught the attention of Autelus' slaves. "The child you sold into slavery for a few measly coins!"

The giant reached behind his back and unleashed Gorechild. The sight of the chainaxe sparked fear into the old merchant's soul, and Autelus squirmed in Angronius' grasp.

"But I will have my own payment- in blood!"

Gorechild roared in agreement.

"P-Please...hear me..." Autelus rasped.

"Papa!" Little Manara's voice cried. She and her mother came running outside when they heard the commotion, at their heels stayed close a handful of house-slaves.

"Unhand my master!" One of the slaves yelled, striking Angronius with his staff.

Angronius ignored the paltry blow and knocked the slave back with his elbow. He drew his axe against them and snarled, "Stand back, or share his fate. It is only with this dog I wish to concern myself."

The slaves faltered, so did their mistress. Only Little Manara proved brave enough to dare the giant's anger, risking all to plead for her father's life. She beat at Angronius' legs, offering only a laughable excuse for an assault as she screamed at him. "Let him go!"

The gladiator nudged her aside with his foot, sending her falling back flat on the ground. Her mother, unwilling to risk her child's life for her husband's, snatched her away and stood within the relative safety of the circle of slaves.

"Hear what, Autelus? Hear of your excuses, your sad tales of how you could justify the suffering you put me through?"

Gorechild demanded to be sated, and Angronius raised it high to give it a proper serving.

"My wife was a slave..."

There, the gladiator paused. Autelus felt the massive fingers move a bit, letting the merchant have enough room to speak.

"My daughter...was a slave..." The man struggled to hoist himself up on Angronius' hand, "The coins were for them..."

Angronius turned his head to look at Autelus' wife, then at his daughter. Slowly, his anger melted away, leaving him hollow and ashamed. He felt his fingers grow lax, and his grip failed him.

The merchant collapsed on all fours and eagerly gulped down the precious air. "So I could purchase their freedom." He was well aware of the buzzing chainaxe, and of the wrath of the man he wronged that could so easily flare up. All he could do was be as honest with him as possible, and hope for the best.

"Your wife, what is her name?" Angronius asked softly.

"My name is Olivia, you animal!" The woman bristled.

"Well then, Olivia, I would know how much your husband loves you." Angronius turned his heel and began a slow stride towards Autelus' family.

"No!" The merchant pleaded, launching himself at Angronius' feet. His old hands, the same ones that carried him out of the mountains of the Desh'elikan Plateau, grasped firmly to his ankles in desperation. "Not them! Please, not them! It is I who wronged you, not my family! I confess, I had not the money to purchase their freedom! The man who held them in auction, I promised to pay but had none to give!"

Autelus pressed his face against Angronius' foot and begged for mercy, "I have carried the burden of guilt with me all this time. Though it gave me back my loved ones, I know that an innocent boy's life is no just price! If I am to die for this, then kill me! But by the mercies of Lilith, spare my family!"

Gorechild's roar slowly faded into a low grumble. No matter how Angronius wished it otherwise, he couldn't find fault with the man. The brotherhood of the gladiator school taught him of familial bonds, and it was easy to see that given the circumstances he would probably do the same in his position.

He regarded Olivia and Manara. Such soft and beautiful creatures could never last long in slavery, but in Angronius' case, he proved tenacious enough to thrive under it. If anything, Autelus' actions inadvertently made him the powerful death-dealer he became.

He decided that his wrath was better suited for an opponent in the battlefield than a merchant and his family.

"Remember this, Autelus." Angronius tucked Gorechild together with Gorefather behind his back. He glared at the slaves, "And treat your slaves fairly. Mistreat one of them, condemn others to bondage as you've done with me, and I will return to finish what I've started."

Olivia and Manara embraced Autelus as the giant left the gate, hand clutching all the coins that the merchant dropped.

That day, Autelus vowed he'd never deal in slavery again.