Chapter 3: Redrock
Zan and his fellow slaves approached the slave town under the iron guidance of their owners.
Some of the new ones craned their head to see the town more clearly, wondering where they would stay.
The slavemaster’s quarters populated the town the most. A quarter of the buildings consisted of paved stone slab, from the nearby slave quarries, while the rest of them, were made from red-iron wood, a specialty of Redrock's canyons. It was quite susceptible to catching and spreading fire instantly, although for some reason the wood burned very very slow. And when on fire, it became extremely difficult to put out.
Actually, that was the reason for the slavemaster's recent renovation plans, and why Zan and his mates were mining on the day they were supposed to farm.
Melvin The Flame, that crazy bastard, set himself on fire somehow and ran towards each building he could. The hero took out five buildings that the slavemasters stayed in, and an inn housing nobles perusing the "stock.”
He killed a hundred or so of them in their sleep, and a few nobles inside the building who happened to be awake at midnight. Of course, his heroism ended when he took a crossbow bolt to the neck.
Slave gossip says he lost his wife that day to one of the passing nobles. The eccentric noble seemed to like his women...cold. So, Melvin The Flame showed him the heat.
The infernos he caused that night embodied his burning rage, hopelessness and despair, painting the sky red and igniting the hearts of many slaves once again. On that day, the "Day Of The Burning Skies," Melvin The Flame took all he loved and hated in his, extremely warm embrace.
...
The slaves passed through the town quickly, many of the new ones held a confused expression on their face. Where was their residence? Where would they stay?
They continued to walk, confused and without purpose until they reached an opening that led inside the very mountains themselves.
The opening could only fit two individuals at a time and no one could see what was inside. Obviously there were no light sources inside the cave, so how were they supposed to find their way?
"Get in."
The obese guard motioned his torch towards the light-swallowing mouth of darkness, showing his attitude. He would not be guiding them within.
A man new to his profession asked,
"This is where we will stay? Where do I even sleep?"
The obese guard, known as "Fat Dan" looked at him, contempt easily seen in his eyes. The next second, he swung his huge sweaty hand to strike the poor dog.
SMACK!
The man's body was lifted off the ground, spinning a graceful 180° turn mid flight before landing on his stomach.
Groaning and moaning, he stayed down for a bit before sluggishly starting to get up. The slap enlightened him.
“Don't talk back, just do.”
He pressed his hand against the hard stone for support, though as he got up, a brown oval-like object speeded towards him.
THUNK!
The object bounced off his head and the man fell to the ground again. A stale, incredibly hard piece of bread landed next to him. Surprisingly, or perhaps unsurprisingly, the bread held its shape.
"Take your grub from the sack and get inside the cave, you maggots."
Zan came forward, along with the veterans. This was simply routine for them. Though, the veterans seemed to give more distance between them and the boy, more than usual.
The outcast youth grabbed his bread and pressed onward, walking as he opened his jaw to fully activate all the muscles he could, just to take a bite out of the hard rock.
As he entered the cave, the newcomers saw him disappear into the darkness.
...
Zan munched and munched. He was so hungry. No, he was starving!
'What the hell?'
This was not normal. He was used to being overworked and underfed. Having a single piece of bread for dinner was nothing new.
But the intense hunger was.
His stomach rumbled as his eyes opened wide and his body started to shake. The insatiable pit within him turned him manic. It turned him into an agitated beast.
His senses were boosted from the hunger. He looked to his left to see a vague emaciated figure. Frail and weak and much more emaciated than the usual slaves.
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Most would not recognize a person from only a figure but Zan could tell it was Fran, The Forgetful.
'That old guy wouldn't even remember by tomorrow if I took his bread from him right now...'
'No...I haven't reached that level yet.'
Turning his head away from Fran, Zan's ears flinched. He could still hear the newcomers stumbling and falling into each other near the entrance.
Zan slowly walked to the entrance...he would not avoid trouble anymore, but become it once again.
...
Two sorry figures pressed their hands along the cave walls, staggering forward slowly in the darkness as they looked for a space wide enough to settle down.
One supported the other as he walked— the other man's eyes were too swollen to navigate this lightless place.
It was the two men from before, the water bowl thieves.
They continued forward at a tortoise's pace, making slow but steady progress.
That is, until they saw a vague figure standing forthright in front of them.
In the darkness he looked menacing and ethereal. As if a wandering spirit found intruders in its final resting place.
The men's hearts stopped, and then raced as all sorts of thoughts appeared in their heads.
"This is the part where the spirit asks us a question before lunging at us without even letting us answer!"
"Fuck! Run!"
They scrambled to turn around, in their panic, the healthier man tripped and fell. Allowing the swollen faced man to get ahead of him.
Though, not for too long as he grabbed his friend’s foot, intentionally tripping him.
The healthier man clambered again to get up, before tripping once again. This time, he tripped on the swollen faced man's head.
Laying on the ground, knowing they were both doomed, the two men started crying.
Suddenly a sonorous youthful voice echoed through the infinite darkness.
"...Give me your bread."
Wiping the tears off their face,
"Ishtshat ywu byoy??"
"Pwesh nno! eeaam shwo, wheshwijs shws hwungrghy waishneds zhish!"
"...What the fuck did you just say to me?"
"Give him your bread you idiot! We just need him away from us at least for today."
He hesitated, looking at the other man in disbelief before looking at the dark figure. The man groaned but he complied, walking up to Zan.
Zan stopped him.
"Throw it to me."
The man stopped in his tracks confused, before tossing the bread to Zan.
"...I want yours too."
"What! We already gave you one!"
Slowly but calmly, Zan repeated,
"I said, I want yours too."
"...Hey pig face, if we can team up we could win."
"Waish aish naedad twos ghaiv haim mwai blead vwut yuuuuw dwunt?"
Then, a little girl's voice came from the darkness.
"Red haired mister is that you?"
"...Please don't steal. It's not nice, mister."
“...What?”
"Me and sister...we saw what you did…but we know you're nice inside. So don't be like them, mister."
"Yeah! Don't stoop to our level! And give us back our brea —"
"Shut the fuck up."
"Give me your bread or I'll beat it out of you."
"And you little girls run along before I take yours too."
Zan's response stunned them into silence.
The man obediently gave Zan his bread and the two girls fidgeted and jittered before turning to leave, obviously in low spirits.
They needed to eat themselves, afterall.
Zan saw them off, disappearing into the darkness yet again.
...
MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH
Zan finished all three pieces of bread, yet he was still ravenous from hunger.
'What the fuck is going on?'
Zan clutched at his stomach before turning to the entrance of his spacious cave home. His eyes shone with a determined yet roguish light.
The midnight moon shined bright but none of that resplendent light would reach here. Zan navigated the dark cave, towards spaces he previously knew were wide enough to settle multiple persons. He particularly chose those close to the entrance.
'Found him...'
There he saw the band of youths from before. Zan noticed all of their bread seemed to be half broken in the middle. Maybe they had small appetites? Or could not bear eating rock-hard bread?
'Nice. They didn't take a bite out of the whole thing and make it difficult for me.'
The spiky red haired youth sneaked along the hard stone. He seemed to have an affinity to the shadows as a mass of black shifted and morphed, looming closer.
He grabbed one piece of bread after another.
He took off his ragged…rags, and transformed it into a makeshift sack.
The black shadow singled out one boy in particular, sleeping a distance away from the rest of the youths.
'Ahhh it's you. Haha...hahahaha...'
Zan reached his hand towards the bread but he felt not the rough and hard texture of the bread, but a soft hand.
The dark-red haired boy jumped in response.
"What the fuck?!"
The frightened young boy hastened to sit up, swinging his head left and right and in full circular motion— finding nothing.
But then he looked down to his side, and noticed his bread disappeared.
His heart sank as his face became pale. Blood frozen, he scrambled to once again join his comrades.
He fought rogue arms and legs to reach the center of the group. There, he laid his head towards the ground and shut his eyes tightly.
Zan put a hand over his mouth trying not to laugh.
"Pfft. Hahahaa..."
The soft sounds only frightened the dark red haired boy even more, causing him to shake like a scared puppy.
Zan moved on to his next victi— he moved on to his next benefactor.
Zan looked over and saw the beautiful red haired girl once again, along with a full piece of bread.
He stopped to stare. Admiring her as if he was looking at the moon. A beautiful blood red moon. Her beauty seemed to put him into a trance, a calm and tranquil reverie that threatened to draw him into a sparkling, glimmering abyss, a euphoric eternal dream.
The spiky haired boy pinched himself and shook his head to get out of it. He thought about leaving her bread alone, but he was simply not that type of person.
'You're lucky, I don't treat others differently based on how they look!'
His hand reached for the stale, full piece of bread, inching closer and closer to his prize.
But suddenly! Zan’s eyes widened as he felt an iron grip on his wrist. The girl’s beautiful hand wrapped around his wrist like an anaconda squeezing its prey to death.
Honestly, he would have quite enjoyed the sensation if he was not caught stealing, and her grip was so immensely powerful.
No…he still quite enjoyed the pain that was inflicted by the beautiful girl. That was the type of man Zan was.
He looked over to see that she was still asleep, her head turned over to the side as her breathing whisked at a peaceful rhythmic pace.
‘Why is her breathing beautiful too…’
Moments passed, her grip softened, and her hand slowly fell back to her side.
Zan slowly backed away, stealing another glance at the red moon, before scurrying away to find less capable benefactors.
Little did he know, a figure stood in the dark corner, observing all of Zan’s actions. He stood tall with dark skin and white hair. The youth had long, skinny limbs, like a spider. He did not melt into the darkness like Zan, he was it.
He saw everything. He observed Zan as he melted into the shadows, stole bread from his fellow slaves, maneuvered and danced in such a way that dodged his victim’s line of sight, before being mesmerized and caught by a seemingly average-looking red haired girl.
‘He’s talented like me…’
‘Interesting...’
The darkness also stole some bread from the newcomers, before exiting the wide cave room.
…
After a while, a bald man stood up from laying down on the hard stone. His situation would raise many questions should anyone have seen him, and thankfully no one did for he stood upside down on the ceiling like it was normal ground.
‘Many interesting characters here in this humble slave town…’
The bald man leaped off the ceiling, speeding towards the ground like a lightning bolt from god. As he landed on the ground, no sound was made but instead a new silence seemed to reign.
At the next moment, he walked normally and leisurely out of the wide cavern room, and sounds of breathing could be heard once again, almost as if sound re-emerged after his departure.