Dusk was gently descending on the village of Ys, the last rays of sun intermingling with the violet hues of the sky. The ominous peal of bells echoed through the air, reverberating off the houses and cobblestone streets. The villagers emerged from their homes, casting worried and curious glances towards the village center, where a scaffold had been erected.
In the damp and dark bowels of the chieftain's residence, Yulia was led out of her cell by Jack and two robust hunters she knew well.
"I hope you've had ample time to reflect, Yulia."
She simply averted her gaze in response. They walked in silence through the corridors, the atmosphere thick with tension and anticipation.
The transition from the dungeons to the village initially seemed surreal to Yulia. The change was so abrupt, so jarring, that she felt as though she was crossing into another world. She had left the confined darkness of the dungeon for the natural twilight. The air felt so different here; it was as if she was breathing for the first time in an eternity.
Her nose was overwhelmed by a mosaic of smells. The dungeons bore nothing but the stench of mold, sweat, and despair. Here, in the village, the air was filled with the familiar scents of daily life – burning wood, animal manure, and the smell of earth after a recent rain. But above all, it was the scent of freshly cut grass that engulfed her, a smell so sweet it made her homesick.
As they neared the exit, Yulia heard the growing hum of the crowd outside. She squinted as they emerged into the open, the twilight causing her to blink.
In the village square, a crowd had gathered, and familiar faces turned towards her. Some displayed sympathy, others disgust, and yet others showed nothing at all. Among the crowd, she spotted her husband, Tom. He looked at her with a gaze full of worry and despair, his lips silently moving, trying to communicate something. But the crowd's jeers and taunts made reading his lips impossible. Yulia flinched as something soft and wet hit her shoulder. She looked down to see an old rotten cabbage fall to the ground. More vegetables followed, hurled by the crowd.
Guided by her guardians, Yulia slowly ascended the scaffold's steps, each step echoing in her ears like a mournful drumbeat. As she stood on the platform, facing the crowd, she felt a chill run down her spine. The elders' judgment was about to be pronounced.
They were seated high above, on the balcony of the town hall, overlooking the crowd. Their traditional clothing fluttered around them, reminiscent of ancient noble banners. They stood there, a silent and imposing assembly, like kings on their balcony, surveying their kingdom.
One of them, the eldest, rose and moved to the edge. He raised his hands in a placating gesture, calling for silence from the buzzing crowd below. When he spoke, his voice echoed through the square, each word carried by the wind and ingrained in the heart of everyone present.
"For the brutal murder of a respected member of our community, Yulia is sentenced to death by hanging."
At these words, Yulia's world seemed to suspend. A cold wave washed over her, even though deep inside, she had known this verdict was inevitable. It was as if every noise, every shout from the crowd, had dimmed, replaced by a dull hum in her ears. She could feel her heart racing, her blood pounding forcefully in her veins as if to remind her of its presence.
She struggled against the rise of wild panic. She wasn't ready. Not ready to leave Tom, their home, their life... Yet, this was her reality. A harsh and ruthless reality that she could neither escape nor deny.
Fear intermingled with deep sadness coursed through her, like a ship caught in a storm. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to embrace these feelings, to accept them. She knew she had to stay strong, for herself and for those she was leaving behind.
A morbid silence fell upon the crowd, the old man's words reverberating in the air like a death knell. Murmurs suddenly erupted, rapidly morphing into a general buzz, as the villagers digested the pronounced sentence.
An executioner, his face concealed by a black hood, stepped forward, a coarse rope in hand. He carefully looped it around Yulia's neck, his gaze never meeting that of the condemned woman. The rope scratched at her neck, a cruel promise of what was to follow.
But before anything could happen, the old man raised his hand once more, imposing silence again.
"However..."
He began.
"Yulia has the option to atone for her crimes and accept submission. Is that what you desire?"
The young woman had had time to weigh the pros and cons. Sacrificing twenty years of her life seemed a lesser evil if she could see her children and Tom afterward.
"Yes, that's my wish."
In the assembly, voices silently nodded in agreement. Any sensible person would have accepted this proposal if it allowed them to evade capital punishment. Tom, on the other hand, seemed utterly distraught. Knowing Yulia could escape death was very good news, but seeing her compelled into submission filled him with a torrent of worry.
"In accordance with the elders, in agreement with the condemned, and in concert with the village chief, Yulia will thus submit to Jack for the next twenty years, as agreed between the two parties."
Yulia froze in shock and immediately turned her head towards Jack who, powerless, simply raised his hands to the heavens. It was this or death. She was seething with rage inside. She'd been duped. Her sentence had just been extended from ten to twenty years. By the time the collar would finally be removed from her neck, she would already be old, and her three daughters would likely have had children of their own.
Tom remained rooted to the spot, held captive by the elder's words. His heart, already heavy with pain, seemed to crack further with each syllable uttered. Twenty years. The figure resonated cruelly in his mind, insistent and unyielding. The pain was so intense that for a moment, he thought he might faint. The murmurs of the crowd, the echo of the sentence, all seemed distant and distorted, as if he were listening underwater. Yulia, the woman he loved more than anything, would have to endure twenty years of servitude. Twenty years without her at his side, twenty years seeing the despair in her eyes every time he saw her. It was as if the world around him was collapsing, leaving an unbearable void. What was he going to tell their children?
In the heart of the crowd, a group of adventurers had just arrived in town, hoping to find an inn for the night. They had expected a peaceful village but found themselves unwitting spectators of a troubling scene: a young woman's sentencing to twenty years of servitude.
Then, the voice of one of the elders could be heard in the tumult.
"Bring forth the collar!"
This was Jack's moment of glory. He did his best to contain a triumphant smile. He had imagined dozens of ways to approach Yulia, to seduce her, to threaten her, but she had thrown herself into the wolf's mouth. After all this, he might consider laying flowers on good old Joe's grave as a sign of gratitude.
Michael, the warrior of the group, turned to his companions, a sense of weariness on his face.
"The inn we're looking for is called 'The Roasted Hog', it's a little further on past the main square. Don't lose sight of me!"
Yavé, the archer, shrugged her shoulders, everything happening around her was neither hot nor cold to her; watching humans scramble gave her the impression of observing an anthill someone had poured water over. Sylvia, on the other hand, seemed fascinated by the strange ritual unfolding before them.
"Well... the man who claimed that poor woman has hit the jackpot... He can do whatever he wants with her..."
Henry, the priest, frowned, clearly disturbed.
"No, Sylvia, a submission collar imposes rights and duties both on the master and the condemned, but what surprises me here is that it doesn't look like a submission collar at all... It rather looks like a collar of...
Sylvia hung on her companion's every word, waiting for him to finish his hanging sentence.
"A collar of what exactly?"
"Excuse me," Henry interrupted, addressing a man standing next to him in the crowd. "Could you please explain what's happening here?"
The man, a sturdy villager in his forties, looked at him, surprise etched on his face. He took in the priest and the Archmage with a curious gaze before responding.
"It's a sentencing, stranger. Yulia killed one of our own, and the elders have decided her fate."
Henry was lost for words, and Sylvia seemed miffed at not having gotten her answer. She decided to leave him and rejoin the others.
"Is that the submission collar?" Henry asked, visibly shocked. The man furrowed his brows, as if surprised they didn't know the concept.
"It's an old tradition in our village. Anyone who accepts the submission collar must obey all commands of their owner for a specified duration. In this case, Yulia will serve for twenty years."
Henry, the priest, squinted, scrutinizing the collar that hung before Yulia. Something was off. This wasn't a standard submission collar, he was certain. The ornamentation, the shape of the engraved symbols... everything suggested it was something else. A horrifying realization crossed his mind.
Jack stepped forward, a metallic gleam in his hands. It was the collar, a crude metal ring, which would seal Yulia's fate for the next twenty years. He held it with a certain delicacy, as if it were a precious treasure rather than an instrument of submission.
He presented it to Yulia, his eyes meeting hers. His voice echoed, carried by the almost oppressive silence of the square.
"Yulia, for the agreement to be valid, you must put the collar on yourself."
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
He extended the collar to her, an odd gleam in his eyes. He seemed both eager and reluctant as if he was savoring every moment leading up to his triumph.
Yulia took the collar, her hands trembling slightly under the tension of the moment. She turned the object in her hands, the cold and ruthless metal sliding against her skin. Her eyes frantically sought to understand the mechanism of the item, to see if there was a way to remove it once put in place. But the collar was simple, without adornments or apparent complications besides a few fine engravings.
For a moment, she remained still, holding the collar before her. The murmurs of the crowd seemed distant and muffled as if she were in the center of a whirl of sounds. The world had shrunk, leaving only the collar and the weight of the decision she had to make.
And then, she took a deep breath, raising the collar towards her neck. The crowd held its breath. That's when a voice rang out from the middle of the crowd, clear and strong.
"No..."
He whispered, his face paling. Suddenly, his voice echoed across the entire square, amplified by sacred art. People nearby were so surprised that they fell to the ground with their hands over their ears, thinking that lightning had just struck beside them.
"STOP!"
Henry's shout, sharp and clear, split the air, causing Yulia to jump. A chill ran down her spine, her clenched fingers around the collar involuntarily loosening. The metallic object dropped, cold and echoing as it clattered on the square's paving stones. Yulia froze, her breath short, as she stared at the collar now lying far from her.
The echo of Henry's cry reverberated off the city hall walls, shaking the elders on their platform. Their displayed confidence wavered, giving way to palpable fear. They exchanged anxious glances, some paling, others instinctively stepping back. They pondered their actions, their decisions, and the corruption that had seeped into their circle. They couldn't help but feel that Henry's shout was divine judgment, a thunderous warning from the gods they had ignored for too long. They wondered if the weight of their transgressions was now crashing down on them.
The crowd, momentarily suspended in the solemn silence of the scene, turned as one towards the origin of this booming voice. The priest, Henry, forced his way through the compact mass, authoritatively pushing aside those in his path, his eyes locked on Yulia with unwavering determination. Sylvia, on the other hand, sighed exasperatedly and rolled her eyes.
"And there he goes again," she murmured in a half-voice, more to herself than to anyone nearby.
Standing in front of Yulia, Henry straightened to his full height, his steely gaze sweeping the crowd. His voice rose, firm and confident, spreading across the square like a wave:
"I am Henry, a priest of the Holy Cross Order. I am here to tell you that what you call a submission collar is nothing less than a slavery collar."
A murmur of confusion ran through the crowd, expressions of astonishment and fear painting their faces. The elders abruptly straightened up, their wrinkled faces hardening with anger.
"What right do you have to meddle in our traditions?" one of them shouted, his eyes sparkling with indignation. Several hunters moved towards Henry, their fingers tense on the handles of their weapons. But Henry stared them down, unflappable.
"YS is part of the Brodian Kingdom. And as such, only a court authorized by the kingdom is capable of judging a case like this. To ensure impartial justice and prevent corruption, the judgment must be rendered by a neutral authority."
He paused, his intense gaze moving from one elder to the next.
"If you contest this, I will be obliged to report it to the royal court."
The threat was clear, his tone irrevocable. The hunters froze, hesitant, while the elders exchanged worried glances, their previous anger giving way to tangible anxiety.
Meanwhile, Yulia watched the unfolding scene before her, her initial despair giving way to budding hope. Tears welled up in her eyes, not of despair, but of renewed hope. Could it be that her fate was not yet sealed? Despite her fear and exhaustion, she straightened up, intensely fixing her gaze on Henry.
"What is a slavery collar, and how is it different from a submission collar?" she asked, her trembling voice echoing across the square. Henry looked at her gravely.
"A submission collar is an agreement, usually established between two individuals, limited to a predetermined duration. It is a reversible agreement, with mutually accepted conditions. A slavery collar, on the other hand, is a life sentence. It reduces the person wearing it to an object, devoid of freedom and choice. If the master dies, the slave also dies. There is no escape, and it cannot be removed, even after a certain duration."
As Henry's words echoed across the square, a shocked reaction swept through the crowd. Jack, realizing that his scheme had been exposed, turned pale. His frantic gaze swept the crowd, desperately seeking an escape route. Seizing his chance, he bolted through the crowd, pushing and shoving those in his path, seeking to escape the inevitable. He was quickly out of sight.
Tom leaned on a nearby person, his face losing all color as the implications of what had been revealed struck him with brutal force. His heart, pounding wildly, seemed to want to escape from his chest. Killing Jack, he had contemplated it many times, with a cold and determined resolve, to free Yulia from what seemed like a decade of unjust servitude. But now... If she had worn this slave collar, if Jack had perished under his blows, he would have sealed Yulia's fate with him. A wave of vertigo seized him, his knees threatening to buckle beneath him. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the shaking in his hands, the ramifications of what he had nearly done spinning his head. The relief of having avoided this tragedy was as powerful as the horror of what he could have committed.
With the grim truth about the nature of the collar revealed, a wave of horror spread across Yulia's face. Her fingers instinctively clenched around her free neck, as if she could feel the weight of the slave chain she had nearly worn.
Her anger rose within her, fierce and blazing, consuming every iota of fear and despair that had overwhelmed her until now. The realization that she had nearly accepted this atrocious fate, deceived by the desperate hope of survival for her children, brought bitter anger to her face.
Her breathing quickened, each breath fueling the anger and indignation boiling in her veins. She had been prepared to sacrifice herself, to trade a decade of her life for her children's wellbeing, but this disgrace... this unbearable deceit... it was beyond imagination. The slavery collar she had almost accepted was not a mere temporary restriction, it was a life sentence, a sentence of perpetual servitude and submission.
A strange mix of relief and anger washed over Yulia. She was safe, for the moment at least, but the bitterness of the betrayal she had almost suffered lingered within her, a fresh scar on her soul. The look she gave Jack as he tried to flee was filled with deep disgust and rage. She would never forget what he had tried to do to her. The Elders, whose authority had been shaken by Henry's revelation, hurried to regain control of the situation.
"The young woman has killed a man and she must be punished for that!" One of them, a hunched old man with a thick white beard, cried out. Henry, however, did not seem intimidated by their protests. Henry nodded, his eyes sinking into Yulia's.
"There is a more peaceful way to reveal the truth," declared Henry, facing the crowd that had gathered around them. His serious gaze landed on Yulia.
"As a pretender of the Order of the Sacred Cross, I possess an art that can bring out the truth. It can show each of you whether a person is lying or not. With your consent, I will help you reveal your truth."
Yulia nodded, her features are taut in fierce determination. She stood straight, her back erect as if she were preparing to face a storm. Henry extended his hand toward her, his fingers traced a complex symbol in the air, and a golden glow began to envelop her.
This light gently spread around Yulia, shrouding her in an almost celestial aura. It seemed to emanate from the young woman herself, reflecting her truth and sincerity for all the onlookers. Her skin took on a slightly golden hue, her hair appeared to vibrate with an ethereal glow, and her deep green eyes shone with a new intensity under the spell's effect. The spectacle was both beautiful and unsettling, filled with mystery and reverence.
As the light grew, a strange sensation overcame Yulia. She felt both lighter and heavier as if something was detaching from her, fraying and dispersing into the air. This peculiar feeling was accompanied by a sensation of warmth, like a wave of energy that enveloped her, passed through her. She felt a kind of peace, tranquility she hadn't felt in a long time.
As Henry's sacred art took effect, a respectful silence fell over the crowd. Murmurs and whispers gradually died down, leaving behind a heavy and palpable silence. All eyes were fixed on Yulia, awed by the spectacle unfolding before them.
"Now, tell exactly what happened on the day of the incident without leaving anything out," Henry said.
Yulia simply nodded, determination clearly visible in her emerald eyes. Her voice, which had trembled with uncertainty up until now, was strengthened by a new assurance as if she knew she finally had the chance to unveil her truth.
"It was a day like any other in the fields," she began, her clear tone echoing across the silent square.
"I was working under the midday sun. Joe kept throwing me disrespectful comments, persistently glancing at my neckline when I bent over to work. He approached, breath heavy with alcohol, eyes bloodshot. He offered me to drink from his wine flask."
The atmosphere in the square tightened as she continued her story. The faces in the crowd reflected a multitude of emotions: shock, disgust, and empathy.
"I refused and, accidentally, I knocked over his flask. He got angry and grabbed my wrist. I screamed I fought, but he was too strong, and he wouldn't listen... He didn't want to listen."
Her voice quavered slightly, but she quickly regained control.
"He pushed me to the ground and began to rip my dress. I felt his rough hands on my privacy, his alcohol-laden breath against my skin."
A shiver of repulsion ran through the crowd at her words. She continued, showing no shame, each word slicing through the air with brutal force.
"He tore the top of my dress, buried his head in my chest. He gnawed at my breasts like a hungry animal. I screamed, but he didn't listen to me. He just mocked me, my weakness."
Yulia's brutal confession plunged the crowd into stunned silence. The raw words, and the abominable details, all created a horrific picture that was impossible to ignore.
"And then…"
She continued, her voice barely calming down.
"Fear gave way to the survival instinct. I saw a tool lying next to me. I... I had to defend myself."
Her final words, spoken in an almost inaudible murmur, echoed across the silent square. A heavy silence fell, Yulia's terrible truth hanging in the air.
Among the crowd, Tom stood still, his jaw clenched. As Yulia's voice spread around them, each word left a scar on his soul. He had imagined all possible scenarios to explain his wife's behavior, but nothing could have prepared him for this cruel truth.
His eyes were fixed on his wife, standing so proudly on the scaffold. He finally saw the terror and despair she must have felt that day. He realized, with a heart-clenching guilt, that he had never truly taken the time to ask her what had happened. He had been blinded by his anger and pain, too preoccupied with his own suffering to see that of his wife.
A torrent of regrets overwhelmed Tom, every word from Yulia resonating in his mind like a knife blow. He couldn't help but think of all the times he had looked at Joe, unaware of what the man had done. He should have been there for her, he should have protected her, but he had remained powerless, oblivious to the truth.
With a stern look, Henry turned to the elders who seemed reduced to helplessness.
"I can't help but wonder how many other innocents have been sent to the gallows by your ignorance. I warn you, the kingdom will no longer tolerate your way of administering justice. An authority will now be sent to this village, even if Ys is in the most remote corner of Brodian. Justice will be ensured."
Then, with a gentleness that sharply contrasted with his previous words, he turned to Yulia.
"Yulia, these men no longer have any power over you. You are free."
At his words, Tom rushed to his wife, embracing her with a strength that spoke of his guilt and relief.
"I'm sorry, Yulia... I'm so sorry…"
Yulia, still shaken by the tumultuous events, placed a trembling hand on her husband's back. The moon's glow reflected in her moist eyes, illuminating her gratitude and relief.
"And our children, Tom? How are they?" she asked, her voice slightly trembling.
"Don't worry, they are all safe with Marie. I'm going to go get them. They still don't know what happened," Tom responded, his deep and soothing voice contrasting with the commotion still prevailing in the village square.
A sigh of relief escaped from Yulia's lips. The less their children knew, the better. There was no need to trouble them with events that now belonged to the past. Her eyes then fell on Henry, her unexpected savior. The glow in her gaze clearly expressed her gratitude.
"Henry, I owe you my life. I would do anything to thank you," she said sincerely.
Henry, caught off guard by Yulia's deep gratitude, raised a hand in a calming gesture. He managed a shy smile, his eyes full of compassion.
"Yulia... it's my duty as a priest to ensure justice is served, and I am glad I could help you today... However, if I may be a bit selfish, a long journey has brought me here, and I must admit, I wouldn't say no to a hot meal!"
The crowd was abuzz, so much had happened in such a short time - the village chief's abuse of power trying to reduce Yulia to slavery, the rotten to-the-core elders rendering their own justice instead of the kingdom's. These would be topics of conversation for the next ten years.
"Act one of the savior is over, I'm curious to see the look on her face for act two," Sylvia began to chuckle.