And Out We Go, Into Misadventure: Part II
19th Of Summer
19th Of Summer
Byron's slaving caravan had stopped in a medium sized clearing, just as Syna had begun to finish her dance across the sky. The humidity of Sunberth's woods had lessened somewhat, in the time that they had stopped - but only just.
Off to the far left edge of the grove of trees, Byron's cart sat. In the middle of the alcove, a grouping of exactly seven tents had been pitched. The shelters were lined up in a shape that would have resembled an oval, if the shape were missing its rightmost side.
The tents were set up in a way, so that there was enough space for a fire to be safely placed in their center. Logs that were not meant for burning had been dragged out of the forest as well, and they were currently serving as makeshift seats for the men that were winding down by the fire. As they talked, Leth slowly took his place over the horizon.
As the mercenaries sat around the blaze that they had brought to life, and as they were bustling, and boasting, and jesting, there were twelve other individuals whom were not allowed to partake in the hired hands' conversations. On the open side of the circle of tents, on the furthest edge of the clearing, were the slaves that the party was transporting. The indentured people had ropes attached to the collars they wore, that tied them off to stakes that had been pegged into the earthy soil.
"There has to be hope," Erin - one of the slaves - whispered.
The green eyed woman beside him shook her head.
"How long have you been like this," she asked, and simultaneously tugged on her collar. "How long have you worn one of these?"
"A few months. I took money from the wrong people," he mumbled. "But if you think you have some kind of superiority, just because you've been sold before, or something, then I don't want to hear it. Having nothing left is just more reason to want to work towards something."
Jacklyn, which was the name of the green eyed woman Erin was talking to, sighed.
"Revolting in the middle of nowhere, against men with swords, and knives, and axes isn't "working" - it's suicide, and that's the reason we don't have any of 'your' hope," she said. "Have you even listened to men like them talk? Have you talked to them? They don't care about us. We're just money to them. Beating us, hurting us, fighting us - it's just their job, and they'll do it if we make them - and they'll win too."
Jacklyn's mind thought back to the words of one of the mercenaries. The man who had tied her to the stake she was now roped to had asked her what it was like being a slave. The conversation had flowed in a way, where she had admitted that a woman, whom had once owned Jacklyn, had let others beat her.
"Well, let's hope you don't get sold to any women then," had been the mercenaries only reply, after he had clasped her on the shoulder gently. Afterwards the man had walked off to stake more of her fellow slaves into the ground.
Harman, the man whom had talked to Jackyln, now sat around the mercenaries's firepit.
"Your trip is worth the pay," Harman said to his employer, Byron, and then laughed. "That's why I'm along."
"Bah, lad. I know you've been around, but you can't have seen everything - you're too young. Is there no sense of adventure in you?" Byron inquired. "Of course I love the money, but I sell the slaves for the freedom too. It's dangerous on these roads, but they lead places - places that are worth going to."
I'm younger than you think, Harman thought to himself. The mercenary had lied to Byron about his age, and other things. In reality he had none of the experience his boss had spoken of, and thought he had; this was the first time Harman was getting out of Sunberth.
In fact, Haman had only just managed to get his tent pitched, by taking his time and watching the other mercenaries set up their own. He hadn't thought of tent pitching until he'd already left the city, and when the realization that it was a skill he needed to keep up his charade hit him, he had been rather worried. Still, everything had worked out and he'd gotten the shelter put up. Now, his sudden fear had been replaced with a certain carefree pride, at having gotten over the first hurdle in keeping his lie going.
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