Ambros felt a strange sense of power over Marcus as they made their way through the winding streets of the settlement. It felt like he held the man's fate in his hands. The strong authoritarian figure he had first met now looked worried, tired, and bedraggled, trying to keep up with Ambros long strides. As if he was a child trying to keep up with his father.
When they made it to the road running around the inner circle, he could see the line going past him and to the left around and around. The people looked like refugees. Families with all of their worldly possessions, individuals sitting between hand-drawn carts. Everyone looked worried. Following the line to the right, he walked past people who had been here for hours upon hours, if not days. What he saw was one thing, but the smell was horrendous. No one wished to leave their spot, it would seem, and the line was barely moving.
From behind him, he heard Marcus ask, “Where are you going? The adventures guild is closer if we hold to the left!” Ambros considered not answering, but then he felt Marcus's hand on his arm, trying to stop him. Not a chance, boyo. Not a chance. Ambros kept walking, dragging Marcus behind him for a good twenty steps. It hadn't even been difficult. Turning around, he looked Marcus in his shocked eyes and said, “To the closest inner ring gate, not the guild. Now keep up, or do I need to drag you again.” Marcus's cheeks were red in embarrassment and anger. At least he didn't try to lay hands on Ambros again, he thought while continuing past the people standing in line. Looking down to ensure Marcus hadn't dirtied the beige jacket he was wearing. It had some embroidery in gold thread going up its arms and along the collar. The tailor said it was the latest in fashion. Ambros didn't care. It was like wearing a cloud on his cloud shirt. It was twice the cloud.
Looking at the people he walked by, he saw some look at him with troubled expressions or fear. Others shied away. They probably thought he was a noble with the clothes he had on. That or a giant come to eat their children, he could see over every single head there with good clearance.
The line was barely moving. Ambros didn't know what the leadership was thinking, but at this rate, these people would still be here when the horde came knocking. They had finally made it to where the line turned left and into the Southgate. Making his way past screaming children, tired parents, and sleeping elders, he walked towards the guards tasked to let people through. Ambros caught a few people about to shout something as he moved past them but stopped themself when they saw him.
He stopped in front of a guard, and before the man could say anything, he held up the chain that now also contained the gold medallion. Straightening up, the guard saluted and said, “Pardon, sir. If you would give me your outer ring chit, I'll exchange it for an inner ring one at once.” Ambros nodded and retrieved the chit he was given the last time he entered the settlement. Poning a finger at Marcus, and said, “Thank you, Guardsman. That one is with me too.” He was handed a golden coin with “T 1” written on it. Moments later, Marcus was also given a coin, and they were waved through.
Turning to Marcus, who was looking decidedly pale, he said, “See, wasn't this easier than bothering Eku. Now let's go have some fun at the party.” Walking towards the center of the inner settlement, where there was a fenced area with guards spaced out around it.
The inner settlement was so different than the outer ring. Every building was in white marble and had what he would call Corinthian columns back home. Large villas lined the roads with gardens and fences or walls. Sadly he wouldn't be exploring deeper into it this time, but he did take a moment to appreciate the share scale of the towers rising to absurd heights above. Especially the central one that had a massive crystal on top. He had seen skyscrapers that would blush in shame standing beside it.
Nearing the closest entrance to the fairgrounds, or what he was supposed to call it, the guards straightened to attention, and the middle one said. “Pardon, sir. This area has been reserved for the nobility this evening.” Ambros answered, “Well, what's the problem then.” That seemed to give the guard pause for a bit before he bravely answered. “My apologies, sir. I do not recognize you.” Ambros tilted his head slightly as if he wasn't sure what he had heard and answered the man. “I don't see how that's my problem.”
The guardsman was starting to realize something was not going as planned. Ambros also knew the guardsman couldn't force him away without cause, and he was dressed as most of the other nobles. On top of that, his skin still looked like someone who had never seen an ounce of sun in his life and his size did speak in favor of him being high in level. Eku told him that he would have to live with that until he went through his first transformation. He should be able to change his complexion a bit then and marginally reduce his size for a while. He would have more options at later transformations.
“I'm sorry, sir. I will have to” was as far as he got before a group of children. Well, they probably were only a year or two younger than him, but to Ambros, they looked like children that had decided to intervene. He had been counting on that. “What is this then.” A particularly fine specimen of nobility asked. He made Ambros wonder if inbreeding was common here. The guardsman saluted and said. “This gentleman is implying that he should be let into the festivities, sir. He is being most insistent.”
Quickly checking on Marcus, he saw the man was white as a sheet, but he was still standing. It would have to do.
The young man stepped past the guard as Ambros had hoped he would. His gaggle of giggling geese close on his heel. “Sir! Who do I have the pleasure of speaking to?” Ambros just looked at him. “You want my name but fail to give your own?” That seemed to give the young man pause, but to Ambros's surprise, he actually didn't immediately start raving. “My manners. I do apologize. I am Bernard Harbotle.” There it was. The drawn-out “-do apologize.” He had given his name as if it should mean something to Ambros, which meant it probably did to other people. “Nice to meet you, Bernard. Im Ambros Mardux.” Deliberately forgoing the man's surname and the use of honorifics.
“I have never heard of you, Sir. Ambros.” He said, but Ambros could see he was getting angry now by the flush in his cheeks. Ambros surged and answered, “And I have never heard of you.” Again forgoing the man any honorifics or perceived respect.
Ambros had learned from similar gatherings he had been forced to attend growing up. These outer circles of the gathering most often had three types of people. One type was the youths on the way to becoming men, sons, and daughters of those in service of the people that served those in power. Full of bluster and bravado. Another was those who wished to be left alone but felt obliged to attend.
“You! You swine, I will show you what it means to disrespect the Harbotle name! I will cut out your tongue. Sir, Ambros. I cha” The moment the young man summoned his sword Ambros was on him. Three strikes, one to the elbow, one to the top of the stomach, and one to the head. The young man lay on the ground unconscious and with his right arm broken.
The gaggle of geez was just standing there, some had admittedly drawn weapons, but they didn't step closer. The guard had their weapons raised, but they also looked frozen in indecision. For some of them, it had happened too fast to even see.
These would be the sons of the landless knights, the small estate holders, and knights in service of another lord. He doubted any of them were close to the fourth step, if even that, and while he deliberately hid his aura, they were so weak he almost thought they were doing the same. Now for the third sort of person to show up.
Standing over the unconscious young man, Ambros took on an indignant air and folded his arms over his chest. Turning his head slightly, he saw Marcus was still white as a sheet. Maybe he needed more red meat?
Ambros was about to change his plan when he heard, “And what exactly is the meaning of this?” The voice filled with authority. There it was. The third sort of person. The ones who kept things flowing, stopping silliness before it could get out of hand or someone from ruining the gathering. They could mostly draw on real authority if they didn't have it themselves. By the sound of this one's voice, it was one that was used to command.
Turning to the newcomer, Ambros did a perfunctory nod of the head before he said, “My Lord. I was threatened with bodily harm and was forced to defend myself.” The man looked at Ambros and then down at the young man still laying on the ground before looking back at Ambros with a raised eyebrow as if to say, “Are you being serious now?”
“I see. Since I don't know you personally, I must verify your story. At least there are several sets of witnesses this time.” He said in a tired voice. Ambros answered with a simple. “Yes, of course, My Lord.” Now was the time to be humble, so he simply stood there waiting. Letting everyone tell their side of the story, he held his mouth as the gaggle of geez story became more and more exotic for each retelling. The guards told it like they saw it, with no embellishes. Even Marcus managed to sweat his way through an explanation.
When it was Ambrose's turn, he merely said. “He threatened to cut my tongue out. I didn't react before he summoned his sword. Even then, I remain without my weapon. If it makes things better, I offer to pay for his healing. This is not the time nor the place to be short any sword.” At his emphasis on time, the man had a reaction, but he quickly hid it.
“Yes, I'm sure the young Sir Bernard family will be happy about that. Now, as to you. Your name?” Ambros dropped ten gold coins on the unconscious body as he said, “Ambros Mardux. I can swear on one of the truth stones that I am part of the nobility if you wish. I think that should cover his healing.” The man tilted his head to the side as if listening to something or considering something. A habit he had seen in a few people that considered their words before speaking. “Yes, I imagine it will more than cover it and help soothe any bad blood. No, swearing on a truth stone won't be necessary. Lord Ekurzakir's disciple is more than welcome at this gathering and the festivities as is his… retainer.”
When the man said Eku's name, everyone there blenched. Seems the grumpy one has a reputation. Ambros gave the man another nod and said, “Thank you, My Lord.” As Ambros was passing the man, he said in a low voice, “Do try to stay out of too much trouble. Tempers are running quite high around the center of the celebration.” Ambros gave his thanks as he heard the man order the guards to get a healer and sho away the other young men and now ladies that had gathered around.
Ambros had counted on his Eques title to get him through with the truth stone. As long as they didn't specify what nobility he belonged to, he believed it would work. This was a better solution, however. The rumors would spread, and it would make things easier down the line. The day was still young, however.
Turning around, he said to Marcus, with a smile, “See, no problem.” Marcus muttered something about people with a death wish. That only made Ambros smile more as he walked towards the people watching different puppet shows, mock battles, and, more importantly, servants walking around with trays of food. It was like a medieval fair, he thought. Just with possibly deadly consequences. Ambros realized he was enjoying himself.
He stopped for a bit to sample the food and drink while watching a puppet show about some prince traveling the land looking for a special flower that would cure his love. It story was horrible, but the puppeteering was exceptional.
Then there was a fight between two groups of combatants that went hammering away at each other. The weapons were obviously blunted, but he could see more than one person laying on the ground, unmoving before it ended. The last part of it consisted of three people beating the ever-living crap out of the last opponent until he finally went down. The crowd loved it.
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Making their way further into the festivities, Ambros spotted a familiar face. Winding his way towards Eku, he stopped a good ten steps away and stood with his head pointed to the ground and hands on his back. Making fun of the dragon man in private was one thing. Making him look bad in public however… Yeah, Ambros would play the good little disciple since it came with perks.
Eku was conversing with two distinguished-looking middle-aged men and a very beautiful middle-aged lady. The trio's every move and stance spoke about a lifetime of keeping up appearances, of privilege, and of power. He could even feel some of their aura from where he was standing. They were not someone he would want as an enemy just yet.
Their conversation was over in a few minutes. He even heard the lady compliment Eku about how a fine and polite young man he was raising. Ambros almost burst out laughing. How Eku managed to not break down was a testament to his willpower. Ambros was also positive he was meant to hear it because he had heard nothing else of the conversation.
A few more moments passed, probably Eku making sure they went far enough away to not overhear his disciple speaking to him in an insubordinate manner. Eku finally waved Ambros towards him, and he obliged quickly. Standing still could be boring. It still amazed him how expressive the dragon man's face was. He was clearly raising an eyebrow, but the ridges of bone that stood where his eyebrow would have been on a human was, of course, not moving. It was something Ambros had never quite managed to get an answer to.
“So, disciple of mine. Do I even want to know what you are doing here, or am I better left in the dark? Incidentally, are you done terrorizing the minor nobility for the day?” Eku somehow managed to deliver that with both reproach and humor.
“Oh, you know, I just needed to stretch my legs for a bit. You know how I get. As to the terrorizing part, it was that of using the medallion. You will have to forgive me if I find the nobility here less terrifying than you. Something about having my liver continuously ripped out, I believe. Besides, I barely touched the guy.” Ambros said in his best I'm innocent voice.
“It is good that you are developing your survival instinct. I have been approached by no less the seven families wanting you flogged and four to discuss marriage proposals. You seem to have left an impression, at least. Now what are you doing here?” Eku said he had even emphasized the marriage part. He wouldn't, would he?
“I'm too young to become miserable. Please tell me you rejected the marriage proposals out of hand?” Ambros said in his most wretched voice. Throwing a thumb over his shoulder at Marcus, he recognized the man's aura now, so he knew he hadn't lost him on the way. “We are breaking Whisper out, or he is dueling to death for her. I'm okay with either one.”
Letting out an exasperated breath, Eku asked, “I see. Why are you not just bidding on her? I find it doubtful that anyone interested in her here will be affluent enough to match you.” Well, he didn't really have a good answer for that. He had assumed the nobility had much more money than him, but when he thought about it, minor nobility was mostly dirt poor during medieval times, weren't they. Sure, they were rich compared to peasants, but that didn't say much.
Ponting at Marcus, he said, “But duel, death?” Eku just snorted. “Do try not to cause too much of a ruckus, and keep any deaths to a minimum. We will need every weapon soon. Be off with you. I will see you tomorrow in the training hall.” Ambros grinned at Eku before hastily making his retreat while bowing. He was sure he was about to get kicked in the head.
They say there is a time for everything in life. For Ambros, it was a time to eat and try to look inconspicuous, something he failed miserably at since the only one close to his size was Eku, and Eku had banished him to the horrors of the snacking trays. He found out that if he kept eating, people would wait to approach him, and he really didn't want to have any long and meaningless conversations with people he probably never would see or care about again,
He also noticed that there was a group of young men staying close to him and a group of young women. Going by the looks he was getting, he was becoming something of a talking piece. Maybe he should go find a mantle to sit on or something. He almost forgot about Marcus until the call for the auction came. Time to see if this was going to be painful or easy.
Following or walking through the crowd, depending on if they noticed him. He soon realized they were making their way to what could only be described as a huge circus tent.
At the entrance, he was given a thick metal plate. On it, there were two rows with buttons that said.
(Copper) (Silver) (Gold) (Platinum) (Bid)
(1) (5) (10) (50) (+) (-) (Clear)
Above was an oblong crystal. It would probably display his or the current highest bid, possibly both. There was also the number #231 engraved on the bottom. It was quite a fascinating piece of an artifact. He wanted to pick it apart. It saddened him that he wouldn't be given auction paddles, however. That always looked fun.
They were guided to a group of benches on the far side of the tent. No closed booths for Ambros and Marcus, it would seem. He really hadn't expected it, but it would have taken his young master at the auction fantasy of the bucket list. All in all, this was turning out to be a rather good day. Now if he only could get the young lady on his left, who was non-too subtly rubbing her slipper up and down his calf, to stop doing that, it would be great. If she dirtied his pants, he was feeding her to the lions when they brought them out. They had lions here, right? He should remember to ask Eku since Marcus had fallen asleep where he was sitting. Useless.
When everyone was seated. A man walked onto the stage. He had a flamboyant yellow dress on. It really was starting to look like a circus. He couldn't see any talking device, but the man's voice could be heard across the tent.
“Distinguished guests. It is my absolute honor to be allowed to guide you through today's auction. The rules are simple, the highest bid will be called trice, and should no new bid come during that time, the bidder wins the item. The transfer of ownership will happen when the item is paid in full.” Clearing his throat, the man continued. “We will be starting with the lot items.” Clapping his hands, ten bound men were taken out by guards, followed by ten women. They looked dazed and confused. Ambros didn't recognize any of their faces.
“This is a hardy and strong group. They will be an excellent addition to anyone that needs their fields tilted or harvested. Two of the items also come with small ones included in the price if you wish to have them.” At that, one of the women let out a hulking cry. One of the guards smacked her in the back of the head with his sword pummel. She still stood but looked like she wasn't seeing the world anymore. The announcer continued as if nothing had happened, “The females are all within breedable age if you wish to increase your flock. The bid starts at one silver for the lot! Begin your bidding.”
Ambros sat there a bit dazed. While he had seen many slave-based civilizations, he had never had it up in his face like this before. The callousness of it all threw him. The day wasn't looking so good anymore. He was horrified, and it was only the first people to be brought out. He was feeling sick.
Group after group was brought out in the hundreds. Every species he knew and some he hadn't seen before. All were sold. Sold for a pittance. Some of them cried silent tears, some stood in defiance until they were beaten down and broken. It was terrible to watch people treat people like this.
At first, he was sad, then he became angry. The people around him were cheering or booing as if what happened to the slaves was a sport. His blood was boiling. He felt a burning rage. It boiled in him, demanding release. It promised ruin and destruction, to consume all that stood in his way. This was not right. This place glorified misery. He almost lashed out when he felt a hand on his right biceps. Marcuse's voice made its way through his ear. “Stop. Remember why you came here. Whisper. You are making a scene.” Looking around, he could see Marcus and him sitting alone on the bleachers. Marcus looked like he was about to shit himself.
The nearest people were a few benches over, looking at him in horror. Whisper, he thought. He calmed himself. He felt his claws retract and his teeth shrink. What? That made no sense. Looking at his hands, he saw they looked normal, and his teeth felt fine to his tongue. People started returning as if nothing had happened, but he caught a few fearful glances thrown his way when they thought he wasn't looking. At least the young lady had stopped trying to dirty the leg of his pants .
Feeling something poking at his aura, he saw it coming from the other side of the tent. A personal box raised above the rest. Eku sat there. He had never seen the old grumpy look afraid, but he did now. Eku raised a finger at him and shook his head. Ambros looked down. He understood. Don't make a scene.
Looking at Marcus, he asked. “Do we have to stay when we are done, or do we have to wait for everyone to be done before we can leave?” Marcus immediately said. “We can leave, but you will probably make an enemy of Stefan. He will be watching closely for anyone that leaves when she is purchased.” Purchased… It brought bile to his mouth. “We leave. I don't think I can take much more of this.” Then Marcus said something that almost made Ambros rip his head off. “I didn't take you to be such a sensitive spirit, Ambros.” He didn't answer, but he knew then that if he ever met the former captain as an enemy, he would feel no remorse for reaping his life.
Ambos tried thinking about other things, but the auction went on and on. He had to constantly fight against getting angry and losing control over his emotions again. Ambros almost chuckled when the thought hit him that he would have made a terrible jedi.
Then it finally happened. The announcer said, “The next item comes as something special this evening. While not our top item, it is not far from it. A pleasure slave at the third step, so you know it won't break too easily. It also comes with the class of a ranger. Need to fill up your party with an archer or a scout and have your bedroll warmed at the same time. This is the item for you. Did I mention she is also of childbearing age? Bidding starts at two gold and fifty silver.”
Whisper was brought out, her back was to him, but he could see her standing defiant. No, give in to that little lady. He almost chuckled. He thought her hair might be a bit longer, but other than that, she looked the same. He honestly didn't know why he cared so much about her. Maybe she was the closest thing he had to friend the first days? He felt the connection now when she was standing there right in front of him.
Apparently, Stefan wasn't the only person out there that thought Whisper was a good deal because the price rose to five gold in short order. He could see and hear Stefan cursing people across the crowd when Marcus pointed the man out to him. When it hit six gold, he looked frantic. At seven gold Stefan looked defeated. He talked to someone besides him, and then he looked smiling on as the bid rose to ten. The announcer shouted it out one time before Ambros had had enough. He plotted in twenty gold as his first bid. He simply didn't care anymore. It wasn't like he could have made more of a scene bidding than he already had.
Marcus threw him a look he ignored. The announcer was silent for a moment but quickly shouted, “Twenty gold! The current bid is twenty gold! Going once! Going twice! Going thrice!” Ambros could see Stafan hurriedly talking with people around him, but it was for nothing. Sold! Was shouted, and Ambros now owned a person.
Waiting for the next person to be brought out, he stood and left towards the guards. They led him to the backside of the tent, where all the slaves were kept.
He made his way past people in cages weeping as they tried to reach across. He saw mothers call out to crying children. Married couples were taken apart to never see each other in this life again. Children torn from their parents to face an unknown fate. He felt disgusted. He felt like a coward.
Then they came to a closed tent and were told to wait. An attendant brought out a small chest. He was told to deposit the twenty gold on a tray once his bidding number was verified. They opened the box and brought a small black stone and a knife. The attendant told him to bleed on the stone to complete the transfer. He almost asked Marcus to accept it, but this would be his burden, and he didn't trust the former captain anymore. Especially when he saw the disappointment in his eyes when Ambros finally managed to saw through the skin of his thumb. It took an unreasonable amount of force, and he was almost afraid the blade would break.
A drop was all he got out, but apparently, that was enough because the moment it hit the stone, it melted into his hand. Then he could feel her in the next room. Like he was sitting in the passenger seat of a car, watching her drive. She was terrified, angry, sad, lonely, and wanted to pee. He tore himself from her mind and shut it off. He wasn't about to start exploring the bounds of the bond now, if ever. The attendant said something, but he wasn't listening.
Looking at the opening facing the direction he had felt her earlier, he saw her being led in. She was looking down. He could see the quiver of her lips and hear her heart racing across the tent. She didn't look hurt, just alone and afraid. With her large personality, it was strange to see her now. So small, so vulnerable.
“Whisper,” He said. And her head rose, her face set in defiance. Defiance turned to shock and then to confusion. “Think I would let you slip away from the dept that easy, did you?” A half smile on his face to take the sting out of the sentence. Then she was there clinging to him like she had done at what seemed like such a long time ago. She was messing up his clothes again. He was strangely fine with it.
In the air above them, a bell tolled. Once, twice, thrice. Three times it sounded out its message to the people. Then three times more. Then three times again. It had started. The horde had come.