Chapter 6.1

After that assignment we were stationed in Garlantia's central city; it was clear that martial law was the norm, and child slavery wasn't so unsual. Garlantia, for all its technology and advancement, did so on the lives of their weaker citizens- not only those children stolen from the neighbouring countries. Most of those I saw weren't any better off than me, they helplessly trailed behind their masters, carrying oversized bags and fading marks of abuse. Others, who were too weak, or disfigured by the work they'd been forced into, were begging on the streets, their hair matted messes, and their eyes blank beads in hollow sockets of flaky grey skin.

The months that followed mostly consisted of policing through the streets, a couple of security escort jobs where we followed round expensive people for days on end until they moved onto a separate city and someone else took charge of their safety.

For the most part, it was more pleasant than our previous assignments, there was little violence and there was little for me to do. I did medial task some days, like collecting coffee for meetings, or if our charge deemed me trustworthy, I would carry their luggage. Sometimes, we patrolled an area in pairs, policing for petty crimes (which there wasn't much of), but Rickon always kept me close, watching me out of the corner of his eye even though we both knew I couldn't escape. I wondered if he noticed the black shadow following me around- I was seeing him more and more often just out of my visual field, and when I turned to look, he would evaporate into nothingness. I was debating his material existence for a while- maybe he was just my imagination. But even if he was, I was glad. He saved me from getting ran over once, while there wasn't as many cars in Garlantian cities, the roads were still functional, and a group of teenagers stole an old car for a joy ride round the outskirts of the city we were patrolling. If he hadn't appeared so suddenly and almost scared me out of my skin so I fell backwards onto the curb, I would have died.

We co-ordinated with the rest of the squad, and we quickly caught the group of teenagers. I was surprised at how much Rickon withheld his violent personality during the exchange.

In the evenings, Rickon and the squad went into taverns and other… questionable establishments, and I was left waiting outside on their doorstep until they had their fill. Sometimes that would almost be dawn, but the work was easy compared to what we were used to, and dosing on the thresholds of brothels till dawn was still far more pleasant than spending all day hiking through the woods or killing people.

The longest escort job we received was by a man named Paul White; we stayed two weeks while his normal bodyguards were away. It mostly consisted of following him around all day, but he did give Rickon a special job four days in.

I overheard the conversation because I found that most of these people ignored my existence, and unless they wanted something, it was as if I wasn't even there. Like furniture.

"I want you to watch my wife and report to me where she goes at night." He says in a low voice. His eyes cast over the room suspiciously, as if he was cautious of being overheard. At the time, we'd only met his wife twice; she was often away with her own business and only returned to see her daughter, Lilly. There didn't seem to be much affection between him and his wife, but there wasn't any ill intent either, and she seemed to dearly care for her daughter, but that was as far as my impression of her went.

"Do you think your wife is cheating on you? Is that what your saying?" Rickon clarified.

His expression is hard to place- it's a mixture of disgust, betrayal and guilt "I think it might be worse than that. I don't want to believe it but-"

"Daddy? When's mummy coming home?" Two little hazel eyes peer from behind the far door. She was dressed like a princess and had clearly got into her mothers' makeup.

"Lilly! Go to your room! I'm talking business." He lied with panic and guilt lining his expression. The little girl pouted and ducked her head back in her room. "The girl can't grow up with a mother like that… If its true… Just take her away. I don't want to deal with it."

"I'm legally obliged to sir."

"Thank you." He looked truly relieved and I wondered what on earth the entire conversation had been about. Shortly after, Rickon was dismissed and we returned to our loggings.

One night not long after that conversation, there was a disturbance within the brothel, the sounds of screams woke me from my light slumber. My eyes shot open and I stood, craning my neck to see in one of the windows high above me head. There wasn't much to see however, the alleyway was dark and there wasn't much light escaping from the dimly lit rooms high above me. There's sounds of glass breaking and a struggle. A women shouts followed by the muffled yelling of Rickon. Several other violent sounds escape the walls, before a women comes flying out of the doors, barely missing me and slams into the opposite wall. With a thud, she collapses in a heap on the floor. Hair is disarray and clothes half worn, the women is a weeping mess. Through the mess, I recognise her as Paul White's wife.

"Grab her!" Rickon yells at me from the doorway, behind him I can see Quin and Jay either side of him. The women was so distressed, she fumbled upright only to fall back down, he feet unable to take her weight. There was the smell of alcohol on her. When I don't move, he throws the nearest object to hand at me, which happened to be her high heel. I rushed forward and grabbed her hands behind her back, but there was little point- she couldn't have got far in the state she was in. Under the tears and snot, now I was close enough to her I recognised her as the wife of the man we were guarding these past couple of days.

"Please! Please don't tell my husband!"

"Your husband sent us here to find proof."

"No!" she screeched.

"And we found the proof we needed. You know what this country does to people like you?" her crying intensifies, and her attempts to form pleading words fail in snivelling ball of mess. Back then I wondered what a woman of high society was doing in a brothel, but I later realised she must have been gay. Rickon charges down the steps and squeezed her face in his fingers, "You're a disgrace and you husband disown's you. You are no longer a woman of high society and you're privileges will be revoked." He hands me a pair of cuffs and I slide them on her wrists. She goes limp as if the life had been sucked out of her. We lead her across the street where a small child leaps out at her and clings to her half-worn clothes. Out from the shadows Paul White firmly pulls her away and says "that women is no longer you mother." His tone is firm and devoid of emotion as his daughter tries to escape from his grip. The women didn't turn to look at her child, her eyes turned glassy and focusing off into the distance. Tears wordlessly escape her eyes, and lifelessly follows the pulls of her cuffs.

The girl continues to scream for her mother as the transport doors slam and all noise from the street is cut off. Jay stays behind to escort the husband, but Quin slides in the other side of the vehicle with the women sat between us. I wondered where we were taking this woman, but I knew what would happen if I asked.