Feast of the End, Lightning Heart

Thalliance, Sorcnon and Betaia, three countries that make up a land known as Aarhsolm. Translated from the now defunct language, Aarhsolm means Under Sun. It is so named because this land is the only place on the world where the sun shines. Even then, the sky is a constant grey, getting to only a pale blue at best.

The people of Aarhsolm have thrived for the land is rich in resources. Everything needed for survival can be found somewhere on the land. Not once did the people ever want to leave and see what the rest of the dark world has to offer.

Aarhsolm is not without perils, however. A classification of animals, called dizaks, roamed the land. What differentiates them from normal animals is how each one of them is infused with magical powers. The exact origins of these beasts have been lost in history. It is only known to stay out of their way as they bring destruction wherever they go. To see a dizak is considered to be a bad omen, for death usually follows.

It is for that reason that the country of Sorcnon is distrusted. Among the three, Sorcnon has the highest concentration of dizaks, and they revel in it. Stories of dark experiments with dizaks drift out from within Sorcnon. They have been accused of practicing dark, sickening magics and being built on the backs of slaves.

Their land, to the southeast, is mostly rocky crags and mountainous regions. Only towards the other edge of the country do farmable flatlands start appearing. The people of Sorcnon are concentrated in only a few large cities. No small towns or settlements are around, leaving most of the land devoid of civilization, free for the dizaks to prowl.

To the northeast is the country of Betaia. Once, Betaia belonged to Thalliance, but they became an independent nation some time ago. The lands of Betaia are mostly plains or rolling hills. Iron, gold and other metals run through large veins in the ground. Several large mining operations tear up the land for the treasures below.

Of the three great countries, Betaia is the most progressive. They develop technologies first, which the other countries then steal. For instance, their scientists first made the steam engine and trains. Now, Sorcnon has a fully connected system of tracks. The electric telegraph, Sorcnon invented that first. Betaia minds, however, improved on the concept and created the telephone, a tool for easy communications between people wealthy enough to install the lines. Thalliance has been slower to adopt new technology, being content with the magic tools they already have.

The western part of the land, where the largest country, Thalliance, sits, is covered in lush forests or fertile plains. Rivers running through the land provide many opportunities for settlements. Through the gentle lands are several well-worn paths of flattened grass leading between all manner of towns and villages. Wagons full of people or trading caravans constantly travel these unofficial roads. The chilly but mild weather makes it a pleasure to travel outdoors at a calming pace.

Out of the three countries, Thalliance has the most closed off values. The Prime race makes up the majority of the population, in both Thalliance and the rest of Aarhsolm. Only in Thalliance though, does it matter. If a person was not of the Prime persuasion, they were not permitted to advance beyond a certain point within society. That point was low, with simple managers being the ceiling. Any mixed children where one of the parents is a Prime are treated with extreme derision.

In the town of Mirnwirth, located within Thalliance, there lived someone that was alone, always alone. It was a teenaged girl, sickly thin and wearing old clothes. Her long, blond hair was cracked and scraggly. Dirt covered her face and tucked itself under her fingernails. At night, she sat alone on a stone bench. Her long legs swayed back and forth, with battered sandals scraping along the ground. Light pink eyes looked out at the town from underneath stray strands of hair. Not many knew her name, for no one cared to ask. After a while, she just stopped giving it out.

Compared to other towns, Mirnwirth was still stuck with old technologies. They still used torches instead of electric lights and water was pumped manually instead of using complex engines. During night times, she could see several swinging lanterns off in the distance. Shadows of wooden buildings glowed in the dark. No normal people were out on the streets this late at night, when the moon was high in the sky. Its light was dulled by something as it fell down from the sky, leaving only weak, grey beams.

The girl was not a normal person. She had no home to go back to, no warm dinner waiting on the table and no cozy bed. For most of her life, she had taken care of herself without any help from other people. All she knew about her family was that she had none. Whether her parents were dead or not, she didn't know, and she didn't care. She was fine by herself. That was why she sat in the park during the dark. No one was around to disturb her.

The girl had many acquaintances, but none that she would consider friends. People were just there to be used. If they couldn't be, she didn't want to associate with them. Being alone was just fine with her.

The way of her life was moving from place to place, taking what she needed to survive. Almost certainly the things she took were not hers. Over the years, she had gotten quite good at lifting things directly out from other people's pockets. Sometimes, the girl decided to work for local street gangs. They provided distractions; she provided other people's belongings.

Those kinds of arrangements never lasted long. Eventually, there would be a point where the gangs would get more out of her than she would out of them. That was when the girl split off again. Often, she would move away as leaving a gang was considered a serious betrayal to them. She didn't think much of it at all. Other times the girl would move when she had been seen stealing something and the police had been alerted or when she just got bored of the current area.

Depending on whether the girl was currently hiding out in a large city or small town, she would either move to a different neighborhood or leave completely. A change of scenery was good. It kept her from getting too attached to one place, places that was full of sickeningly sweet families and friends.

Mirnwirth was a good place to stay for a bit longer. It was a lazy town, with good weather that was warm enough not to need heavy coats during summer months. People came here to retire, so most of the residents were old, unaware people. As long as she avoided the police, no one cared about her. It was a refreshing, almost safe feeling. There were no violent youths to harass her, only kindly gentlemen and women. With a bit of chatting up, some of them willingly gave the girl food or small amounts of money to buy some.

Why was it that every time something good happened, something bad would follow? The girl wasn't sure, but she knew that the vice versa wasn't true. Perhaps it was due to her lowered carefulness around the elderly, something she knew shouldn't have happened. One day, while chatting up an old man, his son came to visit. The son was immediately suspicious of her, and it took only a few moments to checking with the elderly father to confirm his feelings. By that time, the girl had slipped away through the back door of the man's house.

The girl wouldn't be able to stick around Mirnwirth anymore as after that incident, she would definitely be labeled a miscreant and be reported to the police. The son just had that kind of look in him, one that she recognized all too well. It was a look of how worthless she was, and how she was a blight on the fair people of the town. It was the same way the police looked at her too, and they would be much less passive about it.

Just when this little cozy village was starting to feel somewhat livable, she had to leave. Her usual manner of transportation involved hitching a ride on supply caravans. They were numerous and made stops to the myriad of settlements around Thalliance. In addition, there were usually not enough pairs of eyes to keep watch over the many wagons that made up a caravan. Plenty of places a young, unassuming girl could sneak in.

Laying low from the bumbling police was easy enough. They often only put in the obvious effort, showing off to the people mostly. Any time else, they were as laid back as the elderly living in the comfy homes. The police were pretty useless most of the time, and thankfully so.

While waiting for a caravan, she would nick the occasional apple from the market or wallet from some passerby. They arrived every few days. From listening in on the trader's conversation, she discovered they were heading to some small village called Timberfall next. Where it was, she didn't know. Before today, she had never even heard of that place.

Small settlements came and went within Thalliance like fashion styles of the rich. They were created for the sole purpose of gathering resources. Once enough was collected, the town was quickly taken down and the people moved to the next area. From spying on the traders, she gathered that Timberfall was one of those towns. Set up to the east, next to the forest that borders Sorcnon Forehearth forest, it was a place for harvesting lumber.

Being so far away from the large cities of Thalliance was going to be a pain, but these freshly made settlements had a bunch of stuff just sitting around. It would be the perfect opportunity to take all that she could. Who cared if a just-starting community needed all the supplies they could get? None of them meant a thing to the girl.

Timberfall would just be another in a long line of places she stayed at.

Chapter 1, Fallen Town

A teenage girl prowled through a small ruined village. It had been her home just a few days previous, but now all that was around were broken down buildings and the stench of blood. It had been a small village, only around a hundred in population. A nearby forest nearby was in the process of being cleared. The largest building was the lumber mill. Several large, mechanical arms reached out of the mill, making it seem like a monster pretending to be a building. They had collapsed onto the ground now. One of them crushed a large tree-cutting device, spilling the internal machinery and gears everywhere.

She had been in the tiny underground prison on the night of the attack. For a long time, she stood against the corner listening to the screams of people and the breaking of buildings. Even as the sounds slowly died down, she stayed there until someone came down into the prison.

It was one of the guards who explained the grave situation. A horde of dizaks swarmed across the town and killed over half of the population. The survivors had already packed up and left. The guard was only here to let out the non-dangerous prisoners to let them have a chance at survival before he, too, moved away.

She decided to stay in the wreckage. There were still a lot of supplies left behind. She had taken residence in one of the houses still standing. It was nice to have a bed, though the nights were still full of restless sleep. The slightest sound made her alert, and the old wooden house settled and groaned a lot, especially when their foundation was messed up.

Now though, it was daytime, and the girl was moving through the houses, taking anything she wanted. In her hands was a nice blanket that was only partially damaged. She rubbed the other half against her cheeks and let out a small smile. It was a bit of comfort when surrounded by so much death and destruction. At least most of the bodies had been given a quick burial before the townspeople left.

Seeing something shimmering in the dark, the girl crouched down. She was average height, for her age, but very skinny. Long, dark blonde hair, cracked from malnourishment, fell messily across her back. Dirt was stuck under her brittle nails and dirt covered her arms. She was wearing a nice set of women's baker's clothes that she had found. They were starting to get covered in dust and stains as well.

She was flat on the ground. Her large, light-cerise eyes were trying to figure out exactly what was under the fallen section wall of the general goods store. It looked to be within reach, and it might be something valuable to sell once this place was finally empty of useful supplies. Reaching in, she found it just out of her grasp. Instead her hand touched something cold and unpleasant. She whipped her hand back, like a spring that had been stretched out too far.

With narrowing eyes, the girl stared at her hand. It was probably a bad idea, but still, she found a section of wall that was not full of potential hand-skewering splinters. With a scrunched up face, the girl moved it just enough so she could reach the shiny object.

Once again, the girl got down on the ground. This time, she could easily reach it. Her heart raced as she realized that she was reaching for. The shining object was a ring, and it was still being worn. The girl took a deep, calming breath. Carefully, she worked the ring free from the cold, lifeless finger.

The girl quickly got away from the fallen wall. Only most of the bodies had been buried. Some of them were left behind due to the carelessness or apathy of the people doing the burying.

She sat down on the raised edge of the small pool in the middle of town. A broken water pump was located right against the pool. Murky water was spilling forth. Its series of brass pipes and gears were strewn all over the town center. The drain in the center of the pool was clogged with bloody rags causing it to slowly fill up. In a few more days, it might overflow.

After wiping the ring off with her new blanket, she held it up to the dimly glowing sun. It was the middle of the day. Clouds were sparse, but the atmosphere was still very gloomy. The sky was a pale grey. It was actually a bit brighter on this day than most.

The ring had a silver band filled with complicated twists and carvings. There was a large blue diamond-shaped jewel set into the ring. It was probably fake. So was the silver. No way could anyone in this small town afford something like real gems. Still, she stowed the ring into the large pockets of the apron anyway. Maybe someone would get fooled into paying a good price for it.

The sound of footsteps caused the girl to stand up. Her head whipped around trying to find the source. A caravan was coming into town. All of the horses were draped in black tabards, and their eyes glowed red. The lead carriage was painted black with brass roses, and thorny vines wrapped around as decoration. Open windows revealed that the inside was a velvety red.

Every carriage after was much simpler in design. Each of those carriages had a very sturdy bolt lock on the door, and the windows were barred. Walking along with the caravan were several people dressed in red and black robes. All of them carried some form of weaponry ranging from swords to guns to strange devices that look like clawed staves. Some of them had armor over their clothes. A smooth, two-toned mask covered their faces, matching the clothes they wore.

The driver was a man wearing a long ragged coat with trimmings that were starting to rip. His hat had a large, garish pink feather. The lower half of his face was covered by a metal plate with a set of fangs etched into it.

The girl was watching from the ruins of the general store. Only half of the walls were still precariously standing, but they were the right ones that hid her from view. A shattered window was the perfect viewport. She recoiled with wide eyes upon seeing that the trailing carriages were more like prisons. They were filled with despondent-looking people of all ages and genders.

She ducked down with her back to the wall. They were from the Dark City, Anmaul. They had to be, looking like that.

Heeeey! a hoarse voice called out. Heeeey, anyone out there?

The girl buried her face in her hands. There was one other person still in the village, and he must have heard all of the noise made by the horse hooves and marching people. That person was the only prisoner not released from jail because he was deemed too dangerous, a murderer. From the prison though, he couldn't tell exactly who it was that was passing by.

Carefully, the girl peered through the window to see the reaction of the caravan. Already, three people were coming over. One of them held onto a leash with a pair of vicious-looking dogs that were larger than any that the girl had seen before. Their eyes glowed red, just like the horses. They really looked like they could crush people's skulls with a bite. Both of them were wearing thick, spiked collars. Her skin paled when she noticed that the man holding the dogs had a limp and was missing an arm.

Looks like this place was ransacked, one of the men said.

How astute of you, the dog holder said with a dry tone. His voice sounded like an old man's.

But you can't say I'm wrong, the man retorted.

Look for survivors and anything else that could useful, snapped the one all the way at the front. He acted like the leader of the other two. We already know there's one, there might be more around.

I think Rascal and Burdy could use the exercise, the old man said. Isn't that right? He bent down to try and pet one of the dogs, but they attempted to bite his hand. With a grunt, he pulled back, and the leashes wrapped around his arm slipped off. Both dogs tore off kicking up grass along their path.

The girl was scrambling again but where could she go? The general store was in the center of town, and the old man was standing right there. The others had gone towards the prison. If she tried to move, they would certainly notice. She could hear the pattering of the dogs' heavy feet on the ground. One of them sounded like it was getting closer.

Looking around, she saw the remnants of the second floor. If she could hide there, maybe no one would notice. There was a problem in that the stairs had collapsed. The fallen roof was still partially attached and slanted towards the second floor. Maybe she could climb up there.

The girl wrapped the blanket around both hands. It restricted her movements a bit but it was better than directly touching all of the shattered wood and tiles. Every step was made carefully to avoid knocking any over loose debris. The sound of the animal getting closer drove her into a rush. She gasped when she saw the large dog pass by the window.

In a fervent desire to get up to the second floor, the girl knocked over some tiles. It didn't matter as she was pretty sure the dog knew someone was there. When the tiles broke against the ground, the sounds of furious barking responded. The girl let out a whimper as she went all the way up to the second floor. Turning around, she started to kick at the ceiling, trying to knock it down.

The furious barking of the dogs brought the attention of the dog handler and one other black robed man. She was more worried about the angry dog that was charging into the room. The dog saw her. Sharp, crooked fangs were bared as the dog's lips curled up. As it climbed up the fallen roof, it growled.

The girl was breathing heavily as she kicked the roof. Even in its poor condition, she wasn't able to budge it. Her feet were hurting from repeatedly smashing into the hard surface. With the dog getting closer, she backed away and found that this was an extremely bad area to be in.

As the dog landed on the second floor, the girl let out a scream. That only seemed to make the vicious canine more excited. It bounded forward with its mouth wide open. The girl blocked with her meager, thin arm. Her flesh was easily lacerated as the sharp fangs dug in. The dog pulled, causing her entire body to fall forward.

She let out another scream. Her left arm was being torn apart, and her shoulder burned with a fierce pain.

Burdy, heel! a fierce voice commanded.

The dog growled as it continued shaking its head back and forth.

Heel! This time, it was accompanied by a shock.

Burdy whimpered and let go immediately.

Come here, now.

The dog complied this time. Its friend was back as well. They both stared up at the girl while licking their lips.

The old dog handler was looking directly at the girl. Come down here, and we'll take a look at that arm of yours. With just his eyes visible, he did not feel trustworthy.

I'm fine, the girl managed to choke out through shallow breaths. She tried to retreat back into the second floor.

Don't be silly. Come on down.

His tone of voice was not reassuring at all.

I'll get her, the other man said.

To the girl's horror, he started up the roof. Her eyes were drawn to the short sword on the man's waist. It was currently sheathed but it still didn't bring pleasant images about him to her mind. Her back was already against the wall. Frantically looking around, the only way out she found was to jump off the second floor.

She was panting heavily and held her arm tightly. Making any movements caused pain. Several large gashes were bleeding heavily, and her entire body was trembling. Attempting to stand just caused her to fall back down again.

Looking up, the man was right in front of her.

Come here. Sorry about your arm. We'll fix it up, the man said in an overly sweet voice. When the girl didn't respond, he asked, What are you, a baker? I bet you're really good.

She couldn't tell what his expression was under the mask, but she was willing to bet it was annoyed. She shook her head slightly.

The man let out a sigh. No more words were spoken as he walked forward and grabbed her on the injured arm. She let out another scream and tried to pull her arm away. It was a very wimpy effort as her arm barely felt like it worked. The man grabbed onto her other shoulder and hoisted her onto his shoulder. Her very meager protests didn't even slow him at all on the way down.

Your dogs really damaged her arm, the masked man said.

Eh. The dog handler shrugged. She'll live. And maybe both arms will still work.

Her value would be pretty nonexistent if both arms don't work.

Value? Were they the slave traders she so often heard about from frightened and lonely travelers? The girl tried to struggle. Sharp pain caused her to stop.

You found another one? the other masked man asked in more of a statement.

The man from the prison was right behind. He was a rugged man that looked very sick from not having any food or water for days. He had ragged red hair and a beard that covered most of his face. A pair of sunken green eyes peered out from under the messy hair. Blue tattoos of random symbols covered his shoulders.

Anyone else?

Don't think so. Rascal didn't find anyone, right boy? The dog handler looked down at the one on his left.

The dog let out a light growl.

Look around for anything of value then. I'll take both of them back, the leader ordered. He glared at the girl. Walk.

His icy cold voice chilled her so much that the pain was dulled slightly. The girl nodded once.

As they walked, she averted the prisoner's gaze. She had, after all, decided to just let him starve to death in the prison. He didn't seem interested in her at all, however. The leader of the town raiding party walked behind them with a poleaxe gripped threateningly in his hand.

The leader waved to the rest of the troupe. We have an injured girl and a starving man. Make sure they'll both recover.

Another masked man exited the lead carriage. Unlike the others, he was wearing a dingy, white robe. A mask of a jawless skull with similar color to his robes covered his face. He was shorter and pudgier. The stomach area looked rather tight. A large toolbox was in his hands.

Right. Bring them over here, the man in the white robe said with a slightly squeaky voice. He gave the famished prisoner a quick look over. Give him some water and food. Start slow. His masked face then turned to the girl. As for you, come here.

Seeing no other option, the girl went forward. She let out a pained gasp as he grabbed her arm. It wasn't a rough motion, but any movement hurt right now.

Well, some disinfectant and stitches will fix your arm right up. Your shoulder has been dislocated too. The doctor was speaking very fast, and it seemed to be more for his benefit.

He set down the tool box then pressed a button on the front. A small window revealed gears whirring as the lid opened. A little shelf automatically propped out. The inside was full of small medical instruments, needles, surgery thread, alcoholic rubs and things of that nature.

First, we should set that shoulder back. The doctor had barely finished the sentence before he sharply pushed on her arm.

The shock of the pain caused the girl to fall back. Her vision blurred. It felt as if spikes were being driven into her shoulder. She could barely make a noise and was gasping heavily. The world around her slowly darkened as her consciousness faded out.

Chapter 2, Scarred Hounds

The girl felt the ground moving underneath her. Reaching around, the floor felt like it was made of wood and covered with dirt. Trying to move her left arm still hurt, but at least it didn't feel like it was about to fall off. The sound of wheels turning hummed against her ear. She blinked a few times. What she saw was not pleasant at all.

There was a small room filled with scared and destitute-looking people. All of them wore the same ragged grey clothes. The murderer from before wasn't in this compartment. Looking down, she noticed she was wearing the same grey clothes as well. The girl let out a sad sigh for the ring she had lost. The ceiling was extremely low so everyone had to remain seated or crouched. Half of the barred window was visible with the other half extending past the ceiling. The world was scrolling past outside. She must be in one of the carriages.

Are you up, Baker? a soft female voice said. You've been out for a while.

The girl looked to the source of the voice. It was a young woman with long, dark, braided hair. Her face was a bit dirty. The filth only occurred recently and was not caused by the continuous grime of day to day living. She had large, soft eyes that twinkled with tears. The woman was rubbing her hands together incessantly. She was staring right at the girl's eyes. A slight puzzled expression was on her face.

Me? The girl pointed to herself. It certainly felt that she had been on the ground for a long time. A loud rumbling filled the girl's stomach when she tried to move, and her muscles were stiff.

The woman nodded.

I don't bake.

Well, that's what they called you. They called me Fally, due to how I fell down when running away. The woman forced out a smile, but her eyes still appeared just as sad and frightened.

The girl, for now known as Baker, sat up a bit. She had been leaning against the wall of the carriage. Her back was sore. No position seemed to be very comfortable in this cramped space. There was a bandage around her left arm. Splotches of red had seeped through the fabric, creating dark red stains across the white cloth.

What's going on? Baker asked.

Scar Hound, they went on another gathering trip, Fally said with a trembling voice. She was rubbing her hands together faster. They're finished for this trip and are returning back to their base.

Scar Hound?

You haven't heard of them? The Scar Hound are the ones that gather slaves to sell to the nobles and rich of Anmaul, the Dark City. You've heard of that right?

Baker nodded. I had guessed. I just never knew the slavers had a name. It was tough to talk right now. Her throat was dry from anxiety and lack of water. What's going to happen?

I don't know, Fally said. Her hands were now rubbing the side of her head furiously. I don't know at all. I've heard stories about how they feed us to dizaks for fun and make us fight in arenas. I can't fight at all.

Baker let out a long sigh and pressed her right hand against her face. There was no way to escape, not with guards everywhere and the mechanical locks used by the carriages. Ugh, she whimpered.

So, so, what did you do before, before this? Fally had started playing with her hair now, and her voice was shaking even harder despite her trying to sound calm.

I actually did cook, Baker said. Her eyes flicked back and forth throughout the small cabin, looking for anything that could be useful. Not baking though, uh, I roast and smoke whole animals.

That sounds really good right about now.

Yeah.

Everyone was too frightened or depressed to do much other than random mumblings to pass the time. A meal of wrinkled fruits and vegetables were served as a meal to the captives.

As the night arrived, the sound of horns caused all of the timid chattering inside the carriages to stop. Many of the prisoners jammed up against the windows to see what was happening. Baker and Fally both remained still.

The sky was dark, and clouds blocked out view of the moon. Lanterns hung along the side of the carriage provided a swinging light. The atmosphere outside was very festive. There were music and lights of many colors. A lot of people were around. Most of them were all talking. Some words floated through the bars. It sounded like haggling.

Loud footsteps accompanied by clanging metal approached the caravan. Got a new batch, eh? a gruff voice outside said.

Yeah, it was an alright haul, the long coat-wearing driver said.

Bring them out, and let's take a look at them.

You heard the controlmaster.

There was a whirl as the locks released on all of the carriage doors. They swung open by themselves. Several guards were already standing outside, all holding halberds.

Out, one of them said. He reached in, grabbing the nearest prisoner by the hair and dragged the prisoner out.

Slowly, everyone trickled out. There were people from above too as the carriage had been divided across the middle to fit more passengers. Everyone stepped lightly and tried to make their frames as small as possible.

Baker was among the last out. She was holding her hands close to her body. Looking around, the area looked like a carnival. There were large, colorful tents set up along with several outdoor stages as well. Slaves were on display as fancifully dressed customers leered at them from every angle.

The male customers all wore nice suits with colorful trimmings. The women had exquisite dresses with laces, frills and wide skirts. They came on extravagant carriages pulled by mighty horses or gear engine vehicles. All of them saw the slaves as nothing more than merchandise and were whispering to each other about what they liked or didn't like about each one.

Many stalls were located around the grounds as well, and they were all displaying nasty, spiky instruments and restraints.

There were a lot of people around, all dressed in the same, simple grey rags. There was one addition though. Brass shackles were wrapped around either their wrists or ankles. There weren't any chains. It looked like there was some kind of mechanism within the restraints. The people all looked ragged and dirty as they went around doing hard labor, such as moving heavy crates or repairing damaged stands.

Watching over all of the slaves were several people wearing spiky black armor. There was a small scepter device strapped to their belt. There were several monstrous dogs prowling the ground while under the watchful guards or resting near the stakes they had been tied to.

Further in the back, people were enclosed in sturdy cages built into the ground. There were so many of them jammed into one area that they all seemed to blend together. A fancy and whimsical sign that looked like a piece of flowing cloth was over the door of each cage. It listed numbers that went from one up to ten.

Looming within walking distance was Anmaul, the Dark City. The entire city looked like it had fallen into a shadow. Huge walls and sky-piercing towers created an imposing presence. Thousands of lights, from windows or lamps, blinked against the silhouette of the city. A large path, winding back and forth, led up to the city. Any further details were difficult to make out.

There was a stifled scream from behind, causing Baker to turn around. Fally had refused to come out. One of the guards climbed into the carriage. He backhanded the poor woman while wearing iron gauntlets then dragged her out by the neck. It was only a small consolation that he wasn't wearing the spiked armor. The guard dropped the sobbing woman on the ground.

The prisoners were all forced into a line under the threat of being stabbed.

Hmm, the gruff voice from before said. The controlmaster was a short and fat person that was almost as wide as he was tall. He wore a lot of fur and even had four fox pelts, still with the head and paws attached, tied together around his waist. A lot of random trinkets were dangling from his belt.

The stout man walked across the line, looking at each of the new arrivals, muttering things as he went. Upon looking at Baker, he muttered, Scrawny. Might clean up nicely as a pet.

She was staring at the ground but couldn't block out his rough voice. Her heart was beating very fast even after the man left.

After a few more random mumblings, the controlmaster said in a clear voice, You.

Baker chanced a look to see who he was talking to. It was the murderer that had been imprisoned in the small village. Unlike everyone else, he was standing still, looking completely at ease.

Hmm, hmm. The controlmaster brought his craggy face close. What an even breath and heart rate you have. Hmm. Are you brave? Or perhaps this is not a situation you are unfamiliar with?

The red haired man didn't respond and continued to stare straight ahead.

The controlmaster grabbed the man's shoulder. His eyes homed in on the tattoos. A wicked smile spread across his chubby lips, and he let out a guttural laugh. I want to see how this one handles himself in the coliseum. I think it's going to be a great show.

You sure about that? the carriage driver asked. He looks like a good worker and would fetch a good price.

The controlmaster backed away from the prisoner. Hmm. Of course I'm sure. Don't you recognize these tattoos?

The driver shook his head.

Well, come to the coliseum for a good show sometime then. We have enough workers. Put him in the arena. He waved his pudgy arm, and two guards came. The prisoner was brought away without any resistance.

Now then as for the others, put them through training. The controlmaster swept a sneer along the line. How many trainers can spare the attention?

One of the staff members stepped forth. She was not holding weapons or wearing any armor. Instead, she had a book. After looking through it, the staff member said, Trainer Dharuta and Trainer Dess Mióne have a low amount of slaves right now.

Alright. The fat man stood directly in the middle of the line. Send this group to Dharuta. He extended his right arm. And this group to Dess Mióne. His left arm swept towards the group containing Baker and Fally.

This way! a guard spat at the left hand group.

A group of guards pushed the prisoners along. They were taken towards the large tent. Instead of going in though, they went around and behind it. There were several posts stabbed into the ground. Whipped and bleeding people were tied to some of them. In front of all that was a slave bent over on all fours. A woman was sitting, with legs crossed, right over his legs, on the base of his spine.

She wore a form-fitting black bodysuit that showed off her curves well. Only her head was exposed. She had long, dark pink hair, tied into a high ponytail, half of which fell across her back, while the other half was draped across her shoulders and flowed around her breasts. Her face was made up with red blush and dark eyeliner. Small metallic skull ornaments were used as kneepads and elbow pads. She was currently reading a book.

Trainer Dess Mióne, the guard said. New slaves that need training.

Oh? Dess Mióne looked up. She closed the book while using a finger to keep the current position. Her other hand took off the black rimmed glasses over her eyes. Go get some shackles, please. Dess Mióne stood up. She was amazingly tall. Without her four inch platform boots, she was probably six feet tall. A flick of her foot knocked over the person she had been sitting on.

Of course, miss. Two of the guards bowed and left, leaving still enough of them around to stab anyone that tried anything.

While waiting for the shackles, Dess Mióne walked around, taking a look at her new slaves. There were two whips on her waist, one on each side. One looked like a standard leather whip while the other was thicker with strange white barbs embedded on the end.

Well, while we're waiting why don't I introduce myself? I am Dess Mióne Aferre. As for you guys, one through three is still around, so you are going to be four, five, she pointed to the first two people in line, and we're skipping six through nine because those numbers are still taken. She went down the line giving everyone numbers.

Baker was seventeen.

Fally flinched when she was given the number eighteen.

Dess Mióne smirked briefly. Well, if you all decide to listen to orders and do things I ask in a timely manner, I think we'll get along. Dess Mióne started strutting back towards the other end of the line. If you don't do what I want in a timely manner, I think we'll still get along, but differently. Well, I think either way I'll have fun. If you choose to do things of your own volition however, we might have some problems. She strode back towards the center.

I won't do what you say! one of the male captives said. I will not bow to the scum of Anmaul.

The others around him suddenly moved away as if they were in the danger zone.

Dess Mióne was still looking very pleasant. Her hand was resting on the handle of the barbed whip now. I'm glad you feel that way. It makes my job interesting. When I'm done with you, you'll listen to a five year old if that's your owner. Her hand whipped out so fast that it was all a blur.

The next moment, the man was holding his hand. His teeth were grinding against each other as he tried not to cry out from the pain. It was too much for him. He fell to his knees. A barb from the whip had penetrated through his hand completely.

Now this, Dess Mióne explained, is a nice little whip created just for me. The barb is harvested from the cavern crawlers. They are filled with thousands of micro spines that will rip and agitate your nerves. The barb also crawls forward by itself until it falls out the other side.

She placed the whip back onto the holster. The slave trainer raised her boot. With a smirk, she stomped down on the man's arm. Bending down, the tall woman forcefully pushed the barb through. The man let out a soul wrenching scream as he collapsed all the way to the ground. The barb was thrown away like it was just a piece of trash.

The two guards that were sent to retrieve the shackles were back now with two slaves in tow. The slaves were carrying a large crate between them. When the box was set down, lots of rattling noises could be heard.

I'll be honest, Dess Mióne said. These shackles don't hurt as much compared to this whip when activated. She held up both hands and showed that they were empty. I don't even have the device needed to turn them on. They do however, shock and paralyze you and can be activated from a distance. She held up a shackle and pointed to one of the guards.

He took out the clawed scepter and aimed it at the shackle. The machinery inside spun to life, causing several spikes to shoot out along the inside edge. Sparks arced between the spikes.

A grin spread across the trainer's face. Fun. Now, as your first order, please put them on. She tossed the shackle back into the box and stepped away.

There was a bit of confused muttering from the line of slaves. No one moved to put the shackles on them.

Remember, do what I say in a timely manner and we'll get along. Dess Mióne was stroking her barbed whip.

The group went forward and grabbed the shackles. They either stared at the barbed whip or avoided it completely.

That's right, my little slaves. Willingly put yourself into these bindings. There was a seductive tone to her voice now. And one shackle per person is enough. Wrist, ankles or neck, if you're into that. Be careful you don't choke in your sleep though.

Baker stepped up to take a shackle. Looking up, she saw Dess Mióne was standing right there, staring back. Not wanting to get whipped, the girl put the shackle around her left ankle. The shackle snapped closed with the spikes extending out a bit. The girl winced at the prickly sensation. They didn't go far enough to penetrate but just held the shackle in place. Averting the trainer's gaze, she walked away. The extra weight made her feel a bit uneven, but she didn't slow down. Getting away from the trainer was the only thing on her mind.

At the end, the only person that had not put on a shackle was the man that had gotten his hand barbed earlier. Dess Mióne was standing over him, holding out a shackle. Well? she said.

I won't do it, he spat. I'm not going to be some toy or tool.

Dess Mióne clicked her tongue. She stomped down on his hand again, this time directly on the wound.

The man let out a sharp cry. You bitch!

Now, now, I'll deal with you in a moment. As for the rest of you, you will be shown to your cages. The real fun starts tomorrow.

Guards started rounding up the group again but left the man being stepped on alone. The slaves that had brought over the shackles were back again with another box. Baker turned her head, trying to see what it was. The contents were rather mundane.

Dess Mióne ruffled through the box and took out a few things. They looked like the belongings of the new slaves. She had a bored expression while looking through the stuff. The next thing she plucked out was a ring.

Baker's eyes widened when she realized that it was the ring she had taken from the corpse. A sharp blow to her cheek forced her head forward again, and a prod sped her up. She didn't dare look again. That brief glimpse made her certain it was the same ring however.

Dess Mióne shrugged and flicked the ring back into the box.

Chapter 3, Laborious Questions

Breakfast time! a gruff voice yelled.

Baker was roused from her slumber by the loud words. She barely felt like she could move right now. Her entire body was sore from sleeping on the ground.