--Value--

Outskirts

Ella could barely focus, her body weak from hunger. She hadn’t eaten in what felt like days. If felt like her muscle cells inside the stomach could start to produce acidic juices. It hurts.

"Look at 'em waitin' like sheep to the slaughter. Let's get these whores ready, lads."

"Heh, ‘fore the sun sets, they’ll fetch a pretty coin. Keep 'em in line, no slackin' now!"

There was a tunnel ahead, a gaping, dark maw of stone. The torchlight barely penetrated its depths. Four men stood guard at the entrance, swords drawn, their faces hardened like stone.

The captives were being released from the cage one by one, only to be tied together with thick, coarse rope. The knots were tight around their wrists, forming a line of people, like some twisted human centipede.

Clop, clop, clop!

She was near the end of the line, her wrists burning as the rough rope bit into her skin. The tunnel ahead stretched on like an endless corridor of stone and darkness, and the thought of walking through it with these bastards pulling her along made her feel scared. What if something emerge? Goblin?

Her head spun with dizziness, the fever making her feel like she was walking in slow motion. Every step felt so heavy. And every part of her body screamed for rest, but there was none. Her right palm was swollen, red, and pulsing with heat, like it was on fire. She clenched her teeth, trying to focus, but all she could think about was how much she needed to eat. I’d kill for a cheeseburger.

“Lucky, aren’t you?”

The greasy leader of this whole sick operation, stepped toward her. His hand, rough and calloused, gripped her chin, forcing her to look up at him.

Up close, he was even uglier than she’d imagined. His face was pockmarked, and his breath reeked of stale ale and sweat. Worst of all were his teeth, a hideous shade of yellow that made her gag.

“If we hadn’t found you so prettily resting under that tree, we’d have missed out on quite the prize,” Vargo sneered, his foul breath hot against her face. "A woman donned in such unusual attire yet made from finer cloth, surely hail from some distant realm of nobility. I have no doubt the auction shall relish such a splendid prize. Thy worth shall be considerable and set a record-breaking price, I daresay."

The man laughed, showing his yellow teeth infront of Ella's face. Then, her stomach twisted, and before she could stop herself, she vomited.

"Blarghhhh."

Right on Vargo's boots.

The world seemed to stop for a moment. The man stared at his soiled boots.

“You filthy whore!” he snarled, his hand moving faster than she could react.

Slap!

The hit came hard and fast, the sting of it sharp on her already feverish skin. Her head snapped to the side, pain exploding in her cheek. For a second, her vision blurred completely, and she swayed on her feet, barely able to keep her balance.

But even in her weakened state, she wasn’t the type to let things slide. She might have been out of her element, sick, and starved, but she wasn’t about to let some ugly thug treat her like this.

"You..." she began. The man gripped her chin again, his face so close to hers now. "Eh? Dost thou speak in whispers, wench? Come hither and repeat thy words that I might glean the meaning thou seekest to hide from mine ears."

She was well aware of her own foul odor. If it wasn't for escaping through that drainage... Her perfume would have been remained in her shirt. But this man infront of her was underrated.

"Art thou preparing to beg for mercy, wench? I assure thee that thou shalt soon be naught but a toy for someone else's perverse desires. I shall make certain of it."

“Damn it, man. Have you ever heard of a breath mint?” she spat, wiping her mouth. “You’re disgusting.”

Vargo’s face flushed red. “You little—” His hand raised again, but this time, it wasn’t just for a slap. He grabbed at her waist, fingers digging into her side, and she flinched.

Before Vargo could do anything more, the man with the X-shaped scar stepped forward, grabbing Vargo by the wrist. The grip was firm. “Leave it,” the man said, his voice calm but cold. “We’ve got to move the others to the auction. We don’t have time for this.”

Vargo growled, yanking his hand away, but he didn’t argue. He spat at Ella’s feet, his yellowed teeth bared in a sneer before turning away, barking orders to the other men.

Sighed, her stomach still rolling with nausea. Her pride wanted her to shout something after him, to fight back.

By the way, the man with the X-shaped scar turned to her, his eyes narrowing slightly as he glanced at her swollen hand. He reached out, and despite herself, she flinched. But his touch was surprisingly gentle as he took her injured right hand in his. His fingers brushed over the inflamed skin, and for a brief moment, he frowned, like he was seeing something he didn’t expect.

“Ow,” she winched, watching him with a wary gaze. Their eyes met briefly, and she couldn’t help but ask, “Why are you doing this? Why are you treating innocent women like this? For money?”

For a moment, it looked like the man might answer, but then, just as quickly, he looked away. Without a word, he took her left hand and tied it to her right, securing the rope around her wrists.

The moment didn’t last long. Another guard came up behind her, shoving her roughly forward. “Move it!” he barked, pushing her into the line with the other captives.

Her feet dragged beneath her as the group was herded toward the dark tunnel.

"Hic…hic..."

"Shut yer wailin'! Or I'll give ye somethin' to cry about!"

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"Sniff...sniff..."

"Get movin'! No one's payin' for slack-jawed wenches!"

"Aye, make it quick. Buyers’ll be ‘ere soon."

The torches on the wall barely lit the way as they moved deeper into the tunnel.

When they reached its end, one of the men in the group pushed open the door. The captives inside were huddled together. And Ella’s body felt like it was made of lead as she stood in the cold, dark room. They’d been lined up against the stone wall, their wrists bound, waiting for the inevitable.

A few women were already being taken, one by one, to the stage where the bidding took place. She could hear the distant sound of voices, of men shouting prices like they were buying cattle instead of people.

The women beside her were crying—soft, pitiful sobs that never seemed to stop. One woman, in particular, had been weeping the entire time.

The men guarding them were growing impatient. One of them barked at the women, “Enough with the crying!” His voice was harsh, irritated. “You’ll make us more coin if you keep your mouths shut.”

It was then that Ella finally saw her—the woman who had spoken to her back in the cage. The woman with the angelic voice. Now, in the torchlight, her features were fully visible. She was stunning, with freckles dotting her pale cheeks and long, thick hair that was an almost unnatural shade of red—like fire. Her face had a kind of soft beauty that made her stand out from everyone else in the room, and yet there was something tragic in her expression.

“How did you end up here?” she asked. A woman who looked like that—beautiful, almost serene—didn’t belong in a place like this. She didn’t look like the others, beaten down and terrified.

The woman turned her head, her emerald eyes catching the faint light. She smiled softly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I wasn’t abducted,” she said. “I came here willingly.”

“What do you mean, willingly?” her brows knitting together as she asked. “You want to be here? Are you trying to sell yourself or something? That’s crazy.”

But the woman didn’t seem bothered by her reaction. She nodded. “It’s not so simple. I’m doing this to pay off my mother's debt...a debt so large that my family could never repay it... unless that I offered myself in her place.

It was like something out of a twisted fairy tale. A woman like her, giving herself up like that? It wasn’t human. It wasn’t right.

“What kind of deal could be worth... this?”

“A deal to save my family,” she said simply. “In exchange for my service, the Baron will clear my mother’s debt.”

This woman, standing here like she was part of some sick bargain, offering herself up like a sacrifice. In this Haken's world, debts and bargains were made with flesh and blood, and there was no room for morals.

For a moment, the men started moving them again, pulling the next woman in line toward the stage. One by one, they were dragged forward, their fates sealed with the sound of coins and bids.

Then, Ella now, the man dragged her toward the entrance.

There, the crowd was massive, and the masks made it all the worse. Hidden behind them perhaps were nobles, or merchants, or gods knew what other kinds of powerful, disgusting people. She recognized the scene from every fantasy book she'd ever read. An auction. A place where people buy and sell things—or in this case, people.

Her body felt so heavy. She had no energy left to resist. She felt like being guided forward like some kind of puppet with no strings left. As soon as her feet touched the stage, she could go no further. She folded her legs beneath her and dropped to the floor, sitting with her back slumped against the wooden platform.

Their eyes on her, cold and calculating, as if they were sizing her up like livestock.

The announcer, a man with a high, theatrical voice, hesitated as he approached her. His eyes scanned her up and down, clearly unsure how to describe her. "Ah... well, uh, a curious specimen here," he stammered, scratching the back of his head. "Strange... attire. A noblewoman, perhaps? Or perhaps from a distant land?" He waved a hand over her. "A rarity, indeed. Bidders, this one will make a fine addition to... whatever you desire."

“Twenty gold pieces!” one of them shouted.

“Thirty-five!” another followed.

"Where’s she from?" someone else asked from the back, his voice gruff. “What kingdom?”

The announcer leaned over her, tilting his head curiously. “No idea. But look at her! Surely, someone this unusual will fetch a high price! Fifty! Do I hear fifty?”

The fact that people were bidding on her in higher prices. Fifty? Seventy? Hundred?

Everything seemed distant, like she was watching it happen from outside her own body. The torchlight illuminated her, making her feel like a pitiful main character, center stage for all to see. But she couldn’t lose consciousness here. She had to stay awake. I needed to wait for a while.

She somehow managed to look up at the crowd. 3 seconds, 2 seconds, 1 second...her hazy view of the crowd caught a flash of silver.

Finally, they're here.

She smirked faintly.

"Knights! Cut down every last one of these slavers!"

"What in the devil's name...? Raiders! Sound the alarm!"

"Get out of my way! I paid for her—move!"

"Hold the line, you cowards! Fight or lose yer heads!"

"Find that woman!"

People screamed and scrambled to flee as the silver-armored figures advanced with their swords. The abductees cried out in confusion and fear. The men who had been guarding them drew their weapons, some charging forward to fight, while others ran, abandoning the scene.

Ella knew they’d come. Of course they would...

"These knights! I’m not dyin’ fer this!"

"Momma! Momma, where are you?!"

"We’re losin’! Grab what ye can and get out!"

Because they’ve been hunting her ever since they decided she was a spy, ever since they blamed her for that old man’s death.

They wouldn’t stop. Knights don’t quit once they’ve made up their minds. They’re trained for this — to hunt, to capture, to punish. And now, thanks to whatever twisted misunderstanding they’ve conjured up, she was enemy number one.

The ground shook beneath her as people trampled past, and for a moment, she thought she was going to be left behind in the madness.

"Over there!" a knight pointed to her direction.

Unfortunately, she was being spotted immediately.

Clang! Clang!

She had only moments before they caught up to her. Her limbs felt leaden but she forced herself to stand.

Every movement was sluggish, as if she was moving through thick mud, but she willed herself forward. There was no time for rest. She stumbled toward the back of the stage, her mind screaming to keep going.

“This way,” a hand of a woman grabbed her wrist. “We need to get out of here.” A red-haired woman, pulled her.

They ducked behind a stack of crates as a leering buyer appeared.

“Where do you think you’re going my pretty whores?” he growled.

Without hesitation, the red-haired woman slammed her elbow into his stomach. “Get help from the knights!” she hissed at Ella.

The knights? The ones who were after her? She stared at the red-haired woman, and replied. “I can’t.”

The woman’s face twisted but... “Go!” she shouted, shoving Ella forward. Then, a knight from earlier appeared. He struck the leering buyer across the face.

After that, he approached the red-haired woman. "You," he said. He held up a parchment, unrolling it quickly to reveal a sketch of a face. Ella’s face stared back at her from the page.

The woman glanced back at the corridor, but she said nothing. The knight took her silence as confirmation.

“That’s enough,” he muttered under his breath. He turned on his heel and called out, “Captain! She’s heading for the back!”

Back to fleeing feeble Ella, her feet dragged against the ground. She tried to catch her breath, her head heavy and her thoughts hazy. The voices behind her began to fade, but a new fear bite at her gut.

The path was growing darker, the torches fewer and farther between. Despite her efforts to find safety, she found herself wandering into an unexpected area of silence, far away from the war. The noise of the raid seemed distant, like it was happening in another world. Above her, a large hole in the ceiling of the tunnel let in a soft beam of moonlight, illuminating the path just enough to guide her.

Right in front of her was a large mud pool, the surface thick and murky. One wrong step, and she'd be knee-deep in that mess.

But then—there it was. That feeling. The shift in the air behind her. The kind of shift that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She froze, her muscles tensing as instinct kicked in. Someone’s there.

She didn't dare look back right away, instead, spoke inwardly. Do I run? Can I even run in this condition? Her eyes darted to the mud pool again. One wrong move and I’m sinking.

The presence behind her stopped. Huh? She could feel it—the someone's gaze on her back. With shaky hands, she slowly began to turn around, her stomach doing flips. And then she saw...

him.

Now, she was being cornered.