Moving through the countless items inside the drawers, after a minute of searching, he finally placed something on the overfilled desk.
Sloshing around inside the diamantine vial able to fit fully into his palm’s grasp, the liquid silver shone under the bright, white crystals in the center of the ceiling.
Having already grasped the metal fountain pen that lay around on his desk, he mentioned to the demon lord while glancing at the man, whose body was firmly held still by three guards on the wooden floor.
“My lady, could you prepare the bloods? I’m sure you remember the process.”
Without waiting any further, Zyponia already started after catching the two vials he had thrown at her a second prior. Taking off the armored glove around right arm, she quickly got to her bare, unveiled skin.
All of a sudden, around the pale blue surface, a small, circular incision appeared, right where the vein had been. Crimson blood began to flow out as though on command, making little sense to the man on the planks.
His eyes opened wide as he saw the blood hover in the air, being placed precisely and obediently inside the small bottle. And before he even knew it, something pervaded inside of his body, a similar instance occurring and blood came gushing out from his cut open lip, only for the whole wound to close on itself while his blood had been stored away.
Differing only slightly, with his blood carrying a faintly lighter shade in comparison to the one the demon lord possessed, they were swiftly handed over to the slave merchant, who began working on the slave contract.
Taking an old piece of paper lying around his desk, the man first opened the vial with the silver liquid inside it. Then came the two bloods of varying colors. Firstly, he poured in all of the contents of the stronger blood inside, the one that came from the demon lord.
Corking the silver and swirling it around, it almost dared escape from his grasp, but the demon merchant held it still, for a long enough time to let the two substances mix together. Not changing its silvery contrast in the least, the homogenous liquid met the second blood, reacting spontaneously the moment a single drop splashed inside.
Fumes and vapor escaped from the interior as the liquid took on a fairly lighter color, one that reminded them of platinum. A single droplet was enough, to the risen eyebrow of the demon creating the contract.
Nonetheless, finishing creating the concoction, the pen in his grip was dipped in the liquid, immediately placed onto the old paper fading into the mess on the desk.
Although Lutiel couldn’t see whatever it was that he was writing, looking at the orangish-white piece of cast iron inside the fireplace, any curious thoughts that could have still lingered vanished away into oblivion.
Was it to make him realize his situation? To scare him into obedience? He had no idea, but he heard the human tongue be spoken into words he wanted to hear the least at the moment.
“Kurto, give me the iron. It’s time to finish the process,” the merchant uttered, his words followed by a clutter of armor hitting the wooden floor.
Grasping the wooden handle at the end of the branding iron, the guard named Kurto swiftly handed it over to his employer, who then placed it perfectly over the paper’s drawings which depicted the same thing as on the tip of the iron.
Precisely, with nothing being displaced, the man quickly jabbed the paper, making it burn away while only the silver liquid was left on the piece of metal.
Moving from the place he stood at, the merchant stepped closer towards the fireplace, putting the iron inside the flames once again.
With a solemn look, Lutiel gazed at the man holding up the branding iron. Looking at the glowing white piece of iron, he knew it wasn’t going to be anything pleasant, but more than anything, he had been intrigued by the all the times they'd muttered out the name.
‘Slave brand, huh? Is that how they numerate them? With fancy, shining metals and some scribbles?’
As he thought of the matter, it had already been kept in the flames for long enough.
“Where would you like the brand to be placed?” The merchant asked the lady standing close to him, to which she pondered for a while, eventually choosing an answer that made his eyelids open up.
“The area where his heart is, in the middle of the chest.”
“Are you sure, my lord? Don’t you want people to know he’s a proper slave?”
“The collar will be enough.”
Waiting a few seconds more, he eventually gestured to the guards, who flipped him over and slit the hemp shirt open, revealing the man’s bare chest, as pale as it could be.
“It’s gonna sting a little,” he chuckled near the end while positioning the branding iron over the middle of his chest, the hands and arms perfectly still.
Immediately, without waiting any further, an encompassing pain spread around his chest as Lutiel heard and felt the sizzling of his skin.
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“ARRRGGGHHHH!” He screamed, however, the free guard quickly shut his mouth, making him bite his tongue.
Only able to scream through a closed mouth, he did so, wiggling around to no avail. The armored guards kept him rigidly still, to the point of not being able to move a single inch.
Left to the agonizing pain, it quickly vanished, however. After a few seconds of being pressed into his skin, the platinum branding left itself there permanently, embedded into him.
Yet, despite the searing pain, suddenly, a wave of coldness washed over him there, numbing the place to the point of not feeling virtually anything other than imaginary pain.
“Hmm, inla ges scesc?” The merchant mused while looking at him. Then, he quickly turned to Lady Zyponia.
“Now, how about a polished iron collar? That’s the most I can do with the current price. Any more I will demand a second payment.”
“That’s enough. However, don’t include the chains. I don’t want them.”
“Well, I suppose that’s fine. He can’t run off either way. The collar and shackles it is, then.”
This time, he rummaged through the wardrobe on the right side of the room, filled with countless metals. Finding one that would fit the human best, he didn’t take long.
Taking out a shining piece of round metal with a keyhole at the center, the guards pulled him up at the merchant’s command.
Placed right over his neck and clasped together tightly, he promptly turned the key before handing it over to the possession’s master.
“Here are the keys, this one for the collar, and this one for the shackles that are already on him. I hope you’ll be satisfied with the purchase, miss Zyponia,” he said with a wide smile on his face, his hands itching to take even more money out of her, but he hid them behind.
With that being said, the guards pulled up the bloody mess that he was, to no avail. Just when his feet touched the floor while their grasp left him, he fell down to his knees, gasping for air with a hand scratching over the brand in the middle of his chest.
No matter how far he dug, even if he cut through the skin, feeling the smooth, metallic surface of the marking, nothing could be done. The now cold slave branding had become integrated with him, to which he could only breath harshly, reminiscing of the momentary sensations of hell moments prior.
Standing on the side, Zyponia simply waited for his vital status to wane back to normalcy. No longer than a minute passed before Lutiel was able to finally gather himself, standing on his own. With a breath that somewhat came back to itself, the man no longer gazed down at this chest.
Instead, he turned to the demonic lady, her pink eyes’ glaring gaze pervading right through him. Washing over him like a brisk, cold water in the morning, the look made his hairs raise themselves.
“Follow me,” she said, seemingly indifferent.
“Come on, boy! Move your bloody face from here!” With a good laugh, the merchant raised his voice, making his body flinch faintly.
Looking back, he saw that the demon lord was already opening the door. With a thought not portrayed, he moved under the ridiculing gazes from the back.
‘I guess this is my life now.’
Shutting the doors behind him, he simply watched the demon walk with her back turned to him. Hearing the clutter of an imposing armor shining in his eyes, he looked at the overlapping, fluid plates of shiny metal, allowing them to guide him naturally through the corridors.
Inaccessible to the causal populace, the eerie silence accentuated by the cold attitude he was receiving had almost become as loud as the cheers a few minutes back.
Keeping his mouth shut, however, within a few minutes, he had already seen the bleak world anew. The whistling of the wind assaulted him while the light peeked through the exit of what seemed like the back of the arena.
At the same time, from all of his recollections, the place looked much more prestigious than most streets of many towns.
His bare feet felt the hard touch of the bricks, unlike the slimy mud he could already see beyond the carriage that most likely belonged to the demon lord.
Being the only one in this whole, fenced space, it had to be. And Lutiel didn’t have to wait long for his answers. The gray-haired coachman sitting in the front soon stopped his break, standing up from the black leather seats.
“Yist ges’e pekuc’yr bec vrui’en, tis’e Panyi?” The old demon asked at the same time, his eyes unable not to see the white-haired, collared man.
“Tig, ars oemre setek’yr. Jes ges la vinta’yr, ars li e intimau,” she replied, making the man’s hidden eyes open up slightly.
Looking at the young man with his potently green eyes, he quickly turned back to his priorities.
“Tis vidi,” he said while stepping down from the driver’s seat before coming over and opening the magnificent, glossy black doors of the carriage.
Despite standing right before the coach’s interior, Zyponia didn’t enter immediately.
“Ars tane bic chod’yr zy tis’e,” she uttered, making the old demon nod his head lightly.
Shivering as the thin piece of clothing on him fluttered with the wind, Lutiel watched the demon lady step inside the carriage, only to stand on the bricks without doing anything.
“Take a seat inside, the lady is waiting for you,” the coachman said with an unimpressed eye, but it sparked a quick reaction from him.
With his battered body, he moved swiftly, stepping inside the carriage because it threatened to freeze over. Sitting opposite to each other, Lutiel couldn’t help, but stay silent while the demon lord kept looking at him.
Soon after, the doors shut loudly with the horses beginning to neigh their way through. Looking out of the window, he could finally see the scenery changing as the carriage started moving.
Even though they were riding on hard bricks, his body only felt the comfortable cushions of the interior. Soon, going out of the merchant’s property, leaving the black gates, they joined the mellow traffic of the road.
More than carriages, there were demons on foot and horses going about their way, dirtying their steps in the soft ground below.
However, as they delved deeper into the main street, the light inside Lutiel’s eyes flickered on its own. Seeing in full scope whatever was playing out halted his breath.
There were more of them compared to the demons, at least on this street, yet they were being dominated. Lutiel’s face puckered at the plethora of chained and collared up humans wobbling through the muddied grounds while barely holding up the strength.
He kept his gaze onto them the same way Zyponia kept her onto him. They walked in front of their demonic masters, whose long chains pulled the slaves back whenever they misbehaved or didn’t hold up to their brethren.
Though, sometimes, the demons simply played with them for the thrill of it.