2

Thump. Thump.

You appear to be in a caged horse-drawn cart. The road is presumably not very well made, as the entire cart is occasionally rocked. That is also the prime suspect for causing the pain in the back of your head. You were too preoccupied adjusting to your surroundings to notice the pain. However, it now pounced on you like a predator, spreading to more than simply the rear of your skull. You definitely caused multiple bruises on your youthful physique as a result of your uncontrolled flailing.

As you make an effort to ignore the misery, you realize that there are seven other youths in the cage with you.

However, they are seldom noteworthy now that you stop to consider something else totally: How did you end up here? Your heartbeat quickens and your anxiety levels soar all of a sudden. In spite of your mind telling you there is no way out, your eyes involuntarily wander around aimlessly as if looking for one. Clearly anticipating your second panic attack, you feel the grip that has you subdued tighten once more. His grip is harsh yet somehow gentle - how that is possible, you do not know - as his fingers dig into your clothing and, by extension, press into your skin.

The pain seems to send you back to reality.

Next

... it appears he has finally stopped causing a scene", you hear one of the youths comment, and you swear you can almost see the sly grin on his face from the tone of his voice alone. You are getting ready to drop a witty comment, or perhaps just threaten to find his mother the next night. However, the youth holding you beats you to it, responding before you can.

"Acacius! Come on now, don't be like that. It's not like you were any better, and we all had a tough time when we woke up in this cart", the modesty of his voice belies his stature; It has a surprising low boom to it. You hear the commenter, presumably Acacius, chuckle mockingly. Despite that, Acacius seems to have let go of the matter. Naturally, you could continue going down that path and confront this troublemaker, yet you decide not to in the face of the youth before you. He stood up for you, after all, and it would be unbefitting of you to continue the confrontation despite that.

"I am Palaemon, and I hope I didn't hurt you. But I couldn't just stand by as you thrashed around like that. I had no choice but to subdue you for your own and our own good", his amiable brown eyes cast an apologetic gaze on you. "After all, you didn't even respond to anything I said. You were completely gone into your own world!", as if realizing how rude his comment might sound, he attempted to cover it up with an awkward cough, "AHEM, well, I am quite elated that you are feeling better now and...

...would you mind telling me your name? You see, I much prefer to use people's names. There is an air of familiarity about it, wouldn't you agree?", he says, smiling expectantly.

Palaemon holds eye contact for a few seconds, as if trying to gauge your thoughts. Then, his smile brightens, and he nods as he exclaims: "Welcome to the fold, Norton Sutton! Now, you might have a myriad of questions, and I will tell you now: we do not know! We are equally as lost as you are about where we're going or why we're going", he pauses in contemplation and continues, "Well, most of us are", he adds before casting a glance towards two youths seated on the opposite end of the cart.

You can't help but have your gaze travel upward to the buzzcut of Palaemon. Or rather, now that you have looked around, the buzzcuts of everybody. You really wish to comment on it, ...

Palaemon, right?", after Palaemon nods you continue, "May I inquire as to why you all have the same... hairstyle? My gut tells me it might be a clue, or something of importance. Well, I am not one to disregard my gut and by extension my instincts. You don't look, and don't feel like potential Militaris... most of you, that is", your gaze is guided by your instincts toward the same two youths Palaemon had cast a glance to just before. Your gut was telling you there was just something off about them, but you couldn't quite pinpoint what.

Retracting your gaze back toward Palaemon you continue, "I don't get an immediate sense of danger and survival either. It's just strange. Normally, my gut at least allows me to find some semblence of orientation but now it's all a mess of disconnected feelings, or clues", you conclude with a thoughtful frown making its way over your face. Finally, after a moment of tense silence Palaemon responds: "Well... Brother Norton Sutton," - when you allowed him to call you Brother has also slipped your notice, though you assume he wouldn't stop even if you insisted - "you might be right? I do not believe we are kidnapped, at least I doubt it.

I don't believe we have anybody outstanding enough here to warrant professional slavers to target us, seeing as slavery is officially outlawed and none of us seem to be from the same region. From what I heard, slavers tend to go after one region and collect en masse. But those are shabby and opportunistic slavers. The real dangerous and professional ones target figures of note rather than the masses in the Imperium. Though, we-",

"We?", Acacius interjects pointedly, likely with a figurative eyebrow raised.

"- I could always be wrong and this is...", he does not finish that thought, "... That's what I heard, anyway. I am just blabbering, and I am a bit nervous, to be honest. I am happy that at least one of the two of us was able to keep a calm mind", he says, smiling encouragingly.

His previously cheerful face quickly assumes a sheepish expression as he goes on: "As to why we all have the same hairstyle? Well... I hate to say this, but we all have had our hair cut in that manner", he emphazises the 'we all' and it seems that realization dawns upon you: You also have a buzzcut! Your hands shoot up in horror to your previously free-flowing, ...