After two days of slow travel, the caravan now moved even slower than it ever had during their time in the desert mostly due to the Master dragging his feet in hopes something else would happen drawing the soldier’s attention away from the caravan. The caravan guards were more on edge as they kept a watchful eye on the soldiers who in turn also kept an eye on everyone in the caravan. The two groups kept their distance from each other during their traveling with half the soldiers riding in the front and half in the back. When they would make camp they also stayed apart with everyone keeping to their campfire.

They approached the town with the defensive keep built in the middle and the Master finally quickened the pace of the caravan as he seemingly accepted his fate now that the massive building was finally in sight. The building was the largest one that Painin had ever seen. It was of a very simple design by building standards and consisted of a large ringed building with a single tower.

It did boast an entire trading town that resided just outside the walls of the keep stretching out where ever people could build their buildings. It was a place for merchants and vendors to sell their goods to those in the keep as well as those that traveled here. The caravan rumbled down the hard-packed dirt roads as they made their way through the streets heading towards the keep and its large doors that were open. Guards stood in place near the doors and could also be seen walking the walkways above keeping a view of the road below.

Upon their arrival, the caravan was brought into the courtyard of the keep proper to be inspected by the tax appraiser. He was a small mousy man who talked in quiet tones to another young man who looked disturbingly like a ferret. Every time that mouse spoke ferret scribbled furiously on a tablet that he held secured by a string around his neck. The tax appraiser inspected and counted seemingly everything from their draft animals to their carts and even the slaves.

The slave master gave leave for Oaken and some others of the caravan to restock their supplies for the rest of their trip to the coastal city of A-Sha and the slave port that awaited them there. One of the wagon drivers selected Painin and a few of the other slaves to come with him and carry back goods. There were many things from strange and foreign lands like colorful birds, animals that had long necks, and people of every color.

He even passed a vendor that was trying to sell a sickly half-orc who cried out.

“He was a bloodthirsty killer that can do the work of three men.”

Though all the creature looked like to Painin was sickly and sad standing there chained to a large stone block. With a prod of a sharp stick, the half-orc roared in rage and shook his chained fists at the small gathered crowd causing them to gasp and step back. Painin looked at the chains that bound the half-orc and then at his chains and felt a pang of connection as their eyes met.

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Upon their arrival back inside the keep with their goods, Painin saw the Slave Master arguing with a well-dressed soldier and the tax appraiser who simply looked ill. Judging by the differences in his uniform Painin took him to be someone of importance. The Slave Master gestured wildly to the man who ever so often would turn to the appraiser who would say something followed by more wild gesturing by the Slave Master as the cycle continued.

Soon a deal of sorts seemed to be struck as the Slave Master motioned his men over to take the soldier to where the slaves were waiting quietly. The Hound Master motioned for the soldier to follow him and took him over to the slaves. The man looked over the slaves with a practiced eye of someone used to looking over people to figure out their worth, until he stopped in front of Painin.

“You don’t want him. To young and scrawny.” Said the Hound Master.

“They are all scrawny.” Replied the soldier. “Can you understand me, boy?” He asked him.

“Yes sir,” Painin responded.

“Hmmm. Can you read and write?”

“Yes sir.” With every response, the Hound Master stared daggers at him, and his hand tightened even more on the whip which creaked under the strain.

“Very well I’ll take him and the other one.” The soldier told the Hound Master.

“Follow me, boy.” He said to Painin in a tone that spoke of control and he shuffled after him trying to keep up with his long strides.

The caravan left soon after Painin was taken inside the Keep to a room that was lined by shelves and held clothes by a young soldier who said his name was Marki. He had his shackles removed by Marki and he instructed Painin to underdress and sluice himself off from a bucket that sat on the floor. He undressed and moved over to one of the buckets of water that sat against the wall. As he ladled water over his head, he could feel the dirt and grime from the desert fall from his body and roll down the slightly sloped floor, and run down and away through a hole in the stone floor.

Painin took the offered clothes from Marki and looked at them and their simple but well-made construction. After getting dressed he followed Marki through a large room that contained many beds and a staircase up to an office which was located on the third floor. The door was flanked by two soldiers who stood with their hands upon their sword hilts as Mark approached and rapped his knuckles on the door hard enough to echo.

A voice called out from inside for them to enter and they opened the door and walked through. Massive bookshelves lined the walls of the office either filled with books, papers, or some sort of trinket. The rest of the room was nothing spectacular and was dominated by a large desk that was covered in piles of papers. Mark saluted smartly his heels clicking together and Painin once more found himself in front of the Soldier from the courtyard who was now seated behind the desk looking over a document.