Slaves

Life went on usually. With practice and study and night after night of lost sleep, his magic soared. He matured with the blooming petals of spring, the heat of summer, the amber leaves of autumn and chilly cold of winter. 

One year had flown by in the blink of an eye.

Rumius had been awaiting this day for a long time. With his second birthday a week passed, with the stars finally aligned and with his days of waiting finally at an end, he would be blessed at the High Cathedral of his family's domain and finally proclaimed to have come of age. 

Maman had told him that this meant two things.

First and most importantly, he was finally ready to start properly learning magic! No more sleepless nights! No more senseless rummaging in hope that something will work out! Actual teachers! Actual permission! Rumius couldn't wait! 

And second….he forgot. It meant something along the lines of being formally acknowledged as a Eldmich by the kingdom and having more authority or something but Rumius didn't really care.

Pfft, authority? Who would listen to a kid? Didn't really matter to him either way. What mattered was the Magic part of it. He intended to stay with his Maman for at least another ten years to study magic and enjoy a noble's childhood to the fullest. After all, all that was in the future. Too far out to predict and just better to not think about.

In fact, he was doing just that.

Rumius looked around him, his eyes drinking in the surrounding splendour and noise. The paved cobblestone and hard red brick walls still awed him even now. A steady steam rose from the roofs of most buildings, especially the larger ones and Rumius liked how they seemed somehow so aloof from the world as people massed and bustled. The city pulsed with life because of them, were his mothers words to him the first time she had accompanied him into town. Incognito of course.

 A frigid cold lingered in the air, an afterglow of the ending winter. It frosted his nose and made his breath steam but was all in all insufficient to penetrate the thick furred coat which he wore. 

Rumius could tell that as the year was coming close, vendors were all too desperate to sell out their wares in favour of the regional specialties which would be the craze in the following spring. It was only for this reason that his Maman had let him into town. To see the largest winter market south of the empire.

Rumius had seen the caravans that lined the city gates that morning from high up in the sky. It had been a lot colder up there he remembered but his mother didn't so much as shiver.

 Rennie store beside him, holding his hands in a firm grip as she discussed something with the stall owner. She made a comment about how if only milkfruits could sprout in winter and the other woman, a bloated, frog-faced yet jolly oaf threw her head back and guffawed.

 Rumius averted his gaze and threw a glance in the other direction to the other companion who had come with him by his mother's command into the city. 

He stood a distance away from Rumius and Rennie, his long spiky hair swaying slightly in the slight breeze. The captain of the guard wore no cloak or furs but the polished steel on him glinted clearly in clouded, early afternoon sun. He was tall , broad shouldered and lean and silent like the longsword that hung by his side. 

If his white whiskers were an indication his age, he showed no signs of it. 

Rumius stared for awhile. He secretly looked up to the man, although he couldn't seem to catch him at a time where he wasn't busy. The guard captain noticed his gaze and looked over to him. His eyes were the color of storms and they held a certain intensity as he held Rumius's gaze, as steady as his arms when showing his mastery of the blade.

Rumius smiled and waved, not knowing what else to do. He didn't get a response. 

Just nicely, Rennie seemed to finish her discussion with the large, potbellied woman. She tugged on Rumius's hand. 

" Nephew, we may go now. The vendor says to head down Gardet street. The main market is there."

Rumius nodded and let himself be dragged along. He was relatively used to being called that. It was necesssary as calling him " Young master" in public might attract too much attention.

They walked down the road in silence. It was lined with stall after stall and with each step they took, only more seemed to pop up. Each sold their own goods, from the bizarre and the mysterious to the common leather pelt or hunting knife.

Rennie had told him that he could guess apart the eastern stalls from the wester and southern ones. Those were more queer with their unique sights and sounds and smells. It was also quite obvious yo see, what with people leaving these stalls nibbling at red eggs the size of a hand, fried bugs that Rumius could have sworn that he'd seen their smaller counterparts before and giant creatures in cages.

Rumius enjoyed looking at the people here as well. They were different from Rennie and him and the people in the castle in many ways. There were the horse riders of the north, who covered themselves with little more than leather and cloth hide their nethers. The people of the east who were fair and snow skinned, yet spoke in an undulating tongue that he couldn't comprehend. Then there would be the most shocking part. 

Amidst the crowd sometimes, he would sometimes be able to catch a glimpse of concealed long ears spiking through hoods, or thick manes attached to slim shoulders with fluttering tails or sometimes full grown men who shared his height. The first time he'd seen something like that, he'd stopped completely in his tracks and stared rudely at the elven lady that was purchasing something from a meat store. In fact, he remembered staring so long that he didn't even feel Rennie's tugging on his sleeve until the lady had noticed his gaping and turned to leave.

Now, he was more used to catching the occasional glimpse of such rare sights but the markets remained a place of wonder and intrigue for him

Rumius walked through aisle after aisle, stopping to see works of lace and fine wool, displayed next to thick fur cloaks that felt like clouds to the touch. He was aware that if he so desired, he could have all these in the mansion. But there was just something different about them when placed on a display table of hard wood, in a busy market with vendors shouting in a dozen different tongues right beside him. It was mysterious, a tad more dangerous, but a world more fun.

 He took a skewer of chicken from one booth and nibbled on it as he patronised the next, gawking at weapons and armor worked by a hardened smith with silver and gold in ornate patterns. Next to him was a pretty easterner girl, hair as black as obsidian who was selling silver work. Rumius thought of taking a silver bracelet back for his Maman but dismissed the idea as his attention was quickly pulled elsewhere. 

The raucous voice of a man cut above the bustle of the crowd. Rumius instinctively moved towards the loud voice. Rennie and the captain trailed behind him.

The crowd seemed to thicken in a circle surrounding a certain booth where the voice had come, and was still coming from. Rumius cursed his height as he muttered courtesies and apologies as he pushed against people's knees to get to the front. 

Slowly, the crowd parted and Rumius caught a clear sight of the spectacle that so many people had gathered to see.

The booth itself was in fact no booth at all. Where the other stalls had pitched small tents under which their goods would be displayed or where the owners would pitch their wares, this one was simply a raised wooden platform. 

A platform that was lined with living people.

Rumius could hardly believe his eyes. Cold iron shackled the necks and wrists and ankles of each person, grounding them to a stake embedded in the wood. With unfittingly thin pieces of cloth that served only to leave them with the tiniest of dignities. The marks left by the cold air as it cut into their skin like blades made Rumius want to retch.

Perhaps that was meant to give them fairer complexion but the purple spots that stood out even worse on some of their arms, thighs and even faces wouldn't fool even a blind man. 

The raucous voice from earlier was still on going. It was an ugly sound that Rumius saw belonged to an even uglier man. He had short stature, black hair, oily and matted and that would stick to his neck and shoulders and a face that made Rumius think of a weasel. The one thing that wasn't ugly about him was the things which he wore. 

The man stood straight although still short but wore garments that fitted perfectly. Expertly tailored and airy robes that fluttered like flags. 

' The insides were likely lined with wool.' Rumius thought. ' He's covered well enough to pass as a noble.'

He had a cold feeling in his gut that gave him knowledge of what was happening but in the end, it was the grim look in Rennie's eyes as she caught his wrist in an iron grip that confirmed it for him.

" They were slaves."