The people of the New Empire say that the best slaves are those who are born into slavery, they have known nothing else besides the discipline of the whip and the benevolence of a master. These chattels will often work much harder and are one of the pillars of a well-run house. For surely iron and steel may rust but the threat of punishment once learned is until death.
- The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC.
It seemed like I had just closed my eyes when a cruel steel-capped boot kicked me in the stomach, dealing about six points of damage. One of my minders, a narrow-eyed and spiteful-looking man dressed in a motley collection of rust-speckled chain and leathers, had attempted to wake me before and this was his second kick. Perhaps there was a disadvantage to the Pain Nullification skill after all.
To avoid any further harassment, I got to my feet as quickly as my sleep-starved body allowed me. Like a child used to being caned, I followed the group as they made their way out of the building as fast as possible. The distant sound of industry that had pervaded the area around the mines had significantly quietened after the first quake. The disappearance of the sound of clanging metal and belching bellows lent a certain solemn atmosphere to our morning gathering. As our minders grouped us into passable rows, another small rumble of the earth threatened to shatter the serenity of the morning. A scared slave screamed in a pitch higher than usual.
After a crack of the whip had reduced the vocal slave to a curled gibbering wreck on the floor, a group of rough-looking individuals of various races and skin color, perhaps a dozen strong, entered the assembly grounds. Some were tall and muscular, like meaty slabs that had discovered the fine art of walking on two legs. Others were whipcord thin, lean, agile-sure of step, and quick of movement. A few dwarves were scattered about their number, dour and stout, with bushy eyebrows and long beards of assorted colors.
Most interesting of all was what I recognized as an orc, who hulked over the rest of the group. He was an olive green bestial being of layered muscles and had sharp jutting tusks that rose from an extended underbite. On his sloped scarred head, a single topknot of purple hair completed the fierce appearance, and his fists, the size of small boulders, clenched and relaxed repeatedly at his side. A sign of barely restrained animalistic fury.
The majority had bodies scarred with the loving kiss of the whip, and eyes hard and unforgiving as cruel winter. Some had the demeanor of those who had been victims of great cruelty, and in suffering those cruelties wanted to pass them on tenfold to the weaker and more vulnerable. And all bore a thick iron slave collar almost identical to my own.
Kidu and I were herded off to join this new group, long sticks from our watchers guiding our way with a few savage flicks, which led Kidu to snarl at them. This in turn caused the wildman to utter a sharp high-pitched yelp, as the magic of his collar, neutralizing a perceived threat to its masters, worked to send great waves of lightning agony to its host.
Miraculously, I was able to support the massive man who was still spasming with pain, and we both somehow made it over to the new group. Upon joining them, we were met with calculating stares that seemed to be judging if we were to be part of their pack or simply just new prey.
Surprisingly, an uncollared Durhit also joined our party. Dwarven expertise with stone was a valuable commodity in our next venture, I figured.
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Now separated from the main group of slaves, the Overseer Degei addressed our wolf pack of troublemakers himself, flanked by his usual burly guards. Unlike the earlier occasion, the guards seemed tense, scanning our motley crew of individuals with practiced gazes, searching for any threats against their master. I lowered my eyes to avoid drawing attention, which evoked a few snickers from the hardened crowd around me.
“The recent shakings of the earth have caused a collapse in one of the portside shafts near a particularly valuable vein of ore,” Overseer Degei began suddenly in a voice that contradicted his small size.
“Under the guidance of this dwarf.” He nodded in Durhit’s direction before continuing, “you will work to clear the shaft of fallen debris and open the way for industry once more. In good time, all of you will be allowed a turn with a female from our breeding stock of your choice, and two days of rest. However, should we fall behind, you will be left to the kind ministrations of our most experienced flesh-sculptors with no food for a week.” He finished the last sentence with an aplomb only those granted the mantle of authority for many years could marshal.
It was the carrot and the stick approach, then. My new group began to make their way to the mines, some with avid lust on their features. The orc was most horrifying of all, looking like a wild beast in heat as he greedily picked up a mining pick and shovel in each of his giant hands. As I made a move to grab a familiar pickaxe, Durhit placed a gentle hand on my shoulder and shook his head. He handed me a shovel and a large, sturdy-looking wicker basket to place around my shoulders.
“Dangerous work this, you’ll be wanting to stay back as far as possible. Might not be improving your chances by much, but they will be improved nonetheless,” he spoke in his sage gravelly voice.
Grudgingly I took his advice and placed the basket about my shoulders, giving my thanks before catching up with the rest of the group. The rest of the group consisted of four mean-looking guards who carried an assortment of intimidating blunt and bladed weapons. These men were to be our escort.
As we approached and entered the dark, dank passage, Durhit quickly made his way to the front of the group. Our escorts stationed themselves at the entrance, exchanging worried glances with each other as they counted our numbers on an abacus before we stepped foot into the mine's gaping maw. Near the entrance, we could see scattered tools and other debris left behind by the slaves and their overseers who had abandoned their posts when the earthquake struck.
As we ventured deeper into the mines, we took the furthest left tunnel, but soon realized that some of the wooden beams supporting the ceiling were askew and broken in places, with large slabs of rock and earthen debris half blocking our path. This sight cast a worrying pall over the group as no one wanted to be trapped under hundreds of tons of earth and rock.
To address this concern, Durhit quickly ordered supports to be laid at various locations. With his and the other dwarves' guidance, our team efficiently placed lumber to temporarily buttress the ceiling and help prevent a potential cave-in. However, as we worked, another small tremor shook the mines, causing a light dusting of rock powder to fall from the ceiling, and heightening everyone's apprehension. Even the orc paused and sniffed the air, as fear and lust warred across his porcine features.
“Just a little shake, nothing to worry about. The faster we get this done, the faster we can get out of this cursed hole,” one of the dwarves said to encourage the rest of the group.
However, his attempt at reassurance was met with a sharp retort from one of the gigantic human meat slabs, "That's what your sire said to your dam, you stunty bastard!" The other dwarves gave the human a hard look, clearly sensitive about their height. Despite this, the rest of us laughed at the jibe, breaking the sudden tension in the air as we returned to our work.
I tried to push the fact that several metric tons of earth and rock were hanging above our heads out of my mind. I had never been particularly comfortable in confined spaces, and the recent quake had tested my nerve. A part of me felt close to breaking, knowing that nothing in my skillset or arsenal of spells could aid us in the sudden and random event of a cave-in.