Epilepsy. That's Erika's conclusion after being told the symptoms, and remembering the terrible blow to the back of her head yesterday. She pulls Lancaster by the lapels of his jacket and shakes him, but soon loses her strength, and pushes him a couple of steps away to grumble. The little pig, driven by empathy, rubs against his legs. Erika thanks him quietly, and swears to him that, if the need arises, she would kill and eat Chester first before she would.

"As a good little muskie, he's sure to be all pink and tender, and easy to nibble on"

"And you go on with the same thing" Chester listens and points his finger at himself. - I have little to do with the nobles, woman! I don't mind sweating, I don't mind getting my hands dirty"

"If you're so different, why do you have blue hair and you're so hairless?"

"I was born that way! And I have a beard!"

"You call that a beard?"

"And with honor!"

"Modified genes, typical of any self-conscious nobleman. Did your parents shave your ass too?"

Yes, but I wasn't going to tell him. The swordsman puts his hands to his head.

"Redheads are the devil's business!"

He runs to the gunwale, leaps into the water with the intention of flailing his arms and legs to reach the shore, propelled by the flame that Erika awakened. Chester sinks like a rock.

Nadjela dives in, grabs him by the armpits, and swims ashore. Erika trails behind them, laughing and letting out barbs, until her face becomes congested in a new epileptic fit. The princess enters the water again to rescue her.

Chester and Erika come to. They plant their asses on the shore, soaked from head to toe. They both thank Nadjela, and without looking at each other, agree never to make fun of her medical problems.

"Yours is not a medical problem" she says.

"Shut up, Erika! Yes, it is!"

"Do you have swimming impotence or what?

"Don't say that word!"

"Swimming...?"

Chester doesn't answer.

Where the earth is wounded and festering, across the valley that is the grave of men and machines, there remains the dome of thunder where the slavers rest their chains.

The Lancasterian recalls the words of the burned man. He points with his hand to the line that divides heaven and earth, specifically to the bulge that protrudes like a shin.

"It may be the thunderdome" says Erika, standing next to Nadjela, the piglet, and the swordsman. The four face the same direction. "But walking will take a lifetime and a half"

"I have an idea" Chester says, and looks at a family of ostriches drinking water on the shore, oblivious to the world.

On the count of three! trills the lion. From furtive positions they throw themselves at the birds, lying on their bellies on their feathered backs and wrapping their arms around their long necks. The ostriches scatter and flee, only three are left spinning and hopping, trying to get away from the heavy human bundles. After a minute of struggling, the ostriches' will diminishes. Chester is the first to sit up, Erika follows, and both support Nadjela in taming her mount. When the birds are resigned to the human will, Nadjela allows herself to lean down and pick up the piglet from the ground. All together, they ride to the horizon with the wind and the sun shining in their faces.

Noon. Vultures circle in the sky. The group sees in the distance metal plates and zinc sheets that make up the outer wall of the settlement, whose rusty peaks and twisted barbed wire made it look like a colossal crown of thorns. The roofs of buildings and cages protrude behind that wall, along with the roar of civilization, and the coliseum like a great bowl.

Chester pulls on the bird's scruff, forcing it to dig its powerful feet into the ground and slow down. He hops down. Erika mimics him, and so does Nadjela but much more gently and slowly. Chester sends his mount away with a spank, the indignant animal escapes followed by his fellows.

"Listen to me, cherubs This is a nest of abject garbage, of waking up in the morning, of fifteen-day-old wax in your ears. The worst thing the human species has ever produced. You'd better watch out if you don't want to end up in a cage, is that clear?"

"No news. I know how to handle a bunch of punks" Chester gives a thumbs-up.

Nadjela looks unconvinced, and her confidence level crashes as she notices the pikes with impaled skeletons blooming like mushrooms on the kinky wall, several with rags and strips of flesh still dangling. Chester runs his hand down her back and assures her that he will keep her safe. Nadjela, calmer, decides to continue.

The settlement has four entrances, one at each cardinal point. Two watchtowers guard the entrance, each located on one side, equipped with miniguns powered by electric motors, and manned by sentries with their chests in the air and their faces covered with tight leather masks.

"Hey, buddy, don't you get a grill on your face with that on?" Chester shouts to the one on the right.

"To be fashionable, you have to make sacrifices" answers the punl, moving to shake the golden tendrils hanging from his nipples. The minigun is pointed in the same direction as the eyes of the enslaver. "Welcome to the Thunderdome, traveler"

...

Among the noise and oppression, men and women inhabit with leather pieces; spiked bracelets and bangles; metallic sets; sharp rings; painted crests and long braids; threatening tattoos: tendrils, nails; and above all.... Chains. A rough mass that made the wretched men in rags who shuffled around inside "The Wallets", as they called the cages, some of them so big that they had stairs to visit their different floors, look even smaller and more miserable.

The main streets were used to move cars and wallets, and the network of alleys to make life easier for passersby. Most of the chain-makers opted for vehicles or armored cars to move their slaves, while the wealthier ones put their most muscular captives to drag the precious booty with thick chains. In short, the transit is a real hell, both for the concentrated human pain, as the impossibility to maneuver, and poor the criminal who ends up in a traffic jam between chain gangs of inflated pride.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Nadjela is mute and pale. She has never before witnessed so many people, nor so many sad and resigned faces. Her attention is taken by each new scene, and before she could process the first one, there was already something new and horrible to see.

They were crossing an alley lined with food stalls and curiosities, when a merchant approached the Lancasterian with a jovial smile.

"Sir, you seem to have your head screwed on right!"

"Who, me? I think you are mistaken"

"Don't put yourself down, sir, I bet you have an eye for a bargain! And only a blind man would pass up the next offer I'll present to you"

He pulls from his stand a thick tome whose cover shows a pair of crossed chains, with a 4 in the center.

"The Secret of Domination, Volume 4! Written personally by Lord Enslaver! How can you not buy this precious thing, when it contains all the knowledge you'll ever need? Including various tricks you'll never find on the net"

"Step" Chester shows his palms and shakes his head. "Books are for pussies"

The merchant clicks his tongue as soon as the Lancaster leaves. But as one door closes, another opens, and a young slave girl, intrigued by the description of the volume, asks its price.

"One and a half slaves, just for you, doll!"

"I have two philippinos"

A glance behind her back, and it's true, she has two asains. The cage is somewhat modest, they're cramped.

"I can give you a one-armed slave in exchange. The arm he has left is the good one" The merchant shows off his talent for bargaining. "But please me with a handful of opals, okay?+

The young girl accepts and, with the book under her arm, gets on the motorcycle to drive a now much lighter cage.

A few blocks away.

"How do you like the dome so far?" Erika asks Chester.

"Are these people trustworthy? I don't want a botched job for my armor"

"There's no one here I wouldn't trust with my own mother!"

"Are you sure?"

"The old woman's been dead for fifteen years. They can do little harm"

"They must be released!" Nadjela interrupts, overcome and fed up with the injustices around her. In one movement Erika positions herself behind her and covers her mouth with her hand. The huntress proceeds to whisper in her ear.

"Everything I told you went in one ear and out the other? We're on dangerous ground, girl. You'd better watch your tongue if you want to keep it"

As soon as the slayer loosens her grip, Nadjela pulls away abruptly, turning around to eye her reproachfully. She also looks to Chester for support, but the Lancasetrian stands idly by... Silent, meditative, lost in the world of his glasses. Nadjela looks at her feet, for the first time disappointed in the swordsman.

"Let's look for El Poste, while we're at it" Erika sets them in motion.

It took them a while to find him, because he moves. The lazarillo takes awkward steps towards every visitor bewildered by the flow of people and the battered architecture of the buildings. The man is old, with a gray beard turned into a nest of jumping louse families, and his body covered with signs and notes stuck with nails, or messages on his skin at knifepoint. Job offers, advertisements, obituaries, riddles, all on skin that was dying, leaky, and oozing with pus. To appease the stench, El Poste carries nails with pine car ornaments. It doesn't quite mask the stench, but it makes it tolerable.

Just looking at that tortured soul, Nadjela covers her face with her hands and bursts into tears. Erika rolls her eyes, but ends up taking the young woman in her arms and she sinks her face on her shoulder.

"Damn, girl..." For a mercenary tanned in the blood of others, she surprises herself by how natural it comes naturally to comfort the princess. Wanting to ignore those thoughts, she looks up at Chester and arches an eyebrow at the sight of him so calmly engaging in conversation with El Poste. She thought he, who shouted his values so loudly, would be the most offended and the first to do something stupid. Erika accepts that she underestimated him.

"Hey, old man, I'm sure I'm on the right track. But you know how ladies are" he gestures with his thumb behind him. "They insisted that I stop to ask"

El Poste's eyes sparkle as he looks needy.

"What do you need, sir? Are you looking for a place to buy a marriage shackle? Or would you rather go through life slaving without commitment?"

"Nothing of the sort. Hey, doesn't everything on you hurt?"

"Only when I move... Or breathe... But if life has taught me anything, it's that people get used to everything, sir. Misery and suffering can become recurring friends. Now let me help you, looking for a drink? Talk to Tor the one-eyed man! He sells the best rum and only rum, because there are very few ways to keep beer cold in these parts. Or a motel to relax with your wenches? Muerde-Gargantas has the best beds in the whole dome, with almost no bedbugs. And speaking of our glorious dome! No address will do, she's always there, in the center, delighting us with her presence"

"I'd like a doctor and a mechanic. Oh, and also to know how to find Achú"

El Poste is startled. He brings a scarred hand against Chester's mouth, shutting him up and giving his lips the bittersweet taste of dirt, blood, and the sweat of fear.

"That name is forbidden!" shouts El Poste with crazy eyes. "Illegal! Our leader is Deathmask! Nothing else!"

Chester pulls El Poste's hand away, gently, because he realizes that applying more pressure would break that skeletal arm.

"You're shaking like jelly. Is the man so terrifying...?"

"You'd be afraid if you knew what I do! Deathmask is a ruthless entity who escapes the shadow of his name given to him at birth. His mother, carried away by the flu, expelled him from the womb with a sneeze that smashed him against a wall, and his father, beast without empathy, laughed at the misfortune and named him after her. It was many years before his talent at beheading silenced the taunts of his peers and made him, along with his sister Shura, the lord and master of the dome"

"You know a lot about that guy's life"

"I know because I was there!" He pulls his face with his fingernails. "I'm Deathmask's father! And I curse the moment God gave me the laugh!"

El Poste laughs and cries. Chester grabs him by the shoulders and shakes him until he manages to calm him down. El Poste knows of several mechanic shops open to the public, but makes it clear that they are all substandard or of poor quality. About a doctor, he would find the Astronaut in the module next to the butcher shop and the tattoo store. On the other hand, Death Mask is usually found admiring the daily struggles in the dome.

"A fearsome fellow who escapes his name..." Chester mutters, his gaze fixed on the façade of the distant dome. The girls next to him listen silently. "It sounds cowardly"

"What's the plan? Stare at us all day?" Erika asks.

"What...? No! You don't even talk. Finally, when you go on your own?"

"If I intimidate you, just tell me, prince"

"Nothing intimidates me! I just... I just think you're a bad influence on Nadjela. She's my priority, I don't want you hitting her with weird stuff!"

The mercenary flashes a white-toothed smile, slips an arm around Nadjela's shoulders, and pulls her into an embrace so that they are cheek to cheek.

"But since last night we became friends! Close friends... Very, very close friends" From between her pink lips, a tongue blooms and slips against Nadjela's cheek, leaving a transparent trace.

The tribal is too busy blushing to react to the boldness of the national socialist. It's Chester's priority! Hearing that revs his engine.

The Lancasterian frowns and points a hand at the mercenary, who separates her tongue from Nadjela's to look at the blue with derision.

"If you're going to start with your homosexualities, I'd better go!" He exclaims, turns around, and accelerates his pace towards somewhere.

"Crybaby," says Erika. She looks at Nadjela with a smile to see if they matched, but the princess was still immersed in her freezing spell. The mercenary moves her, and Nadjela blinks several times before coming to. "Let's find a wretch who'll buy us lunch"

"Eh...? Eat...? But... Didn't you need a shaman too? Because of your... Illness..."

Erika's smile disappears and she brings her other hand to touch the back of her neck. Her face quivers as she runs her fingertips over the bruise.

"I won't let one of these madmen touch my body.... No, it has to be someone I trust. What...? Why do you look so...?"

"Looking like what?"

Nadjela keeps her face in the direction where Chester went, and bites her lip. Erika squints her eyes.

"Ah, I get it... You're worried they're doing something weird to Chester. Come on, do you really think anyone could fuck with him? Don't ever say I said it, but he's the toughest guy I've encountered since I started operating here. He'll be cool"