Magus Gravity - Chapter 4

After nodding my head to the old man’s question - are you a mage? I was brought out my cell and taken throughout the prison, a better word to describe the place would be mansion since after walking out of the room that held my cell, I saw a place that held nothing in relation to a prison.

“We need to get you up to shape and bathed, which we can do at once” The old man said as he continued to walk with me.

I could slightly feel warmth and softness with every step I took but the pain neglected most of my senses - that feeling of a carpet I had almost forgotten because of the time I spent in the cell, which was relatively short but sleepless nights made the duration seem extended. I tried to walk normally but I couldn’t so I had to limp on my bad leg and rest for a while before striding with the good leg, the old man did not seem to mind and just smiled at me. I probably made the walk “easier” for his facade too.

After some time, I was guided into a big room with a desk at the back and a chair behind it, which the old man took as his and sat upon it, whilst I stood in the middle of the room and everyone observed me within a semi-circle. No shackles were placed around my hands, as they probably thought I am not strong enough to do anything in the state I am right now. Coincidentally, I had also found a new use for my power; lessen the burden of walking on my leg. I just needed to concentrate in seeing my body raise upwards and I instantly felt lighter, obviously I used my hands to lessen the burden since I really wouldn’t want to faint in front of all these serious looking people - with an exception of an old fellow.

The people started talking to each other in a different language and sometimes took a glance at me, however the old person did not converse with anyone and just kept his eyes latched onto me as if I was some sort of prize that he has won. The maid did not follow us into the room and wandered off to do something else, like her duties as a maid maybe?

“Why was I made a slave?” I had to ask the men, who became silent at my question.

Standing up from his chair, he approached me and placed his walking stick on my shoulder. “I would like to know how you managed to anger the queen to the extent she made you a slave, and become assigned to this place of all others” The old man questioned me instead, and a mountain fell atop the shoulder that his staff had rested on, making me sink down to the ground and kneel before him.

He was wearing elegant shoes made from animal skin resembling a crocodiles but much darker, the skin was probably scorched and burnt to result in that colour before it was made into a shoe. It made me realise that I haven’t wore shoes in what felt like a month. The feeling of having something sturdy and durable wrapped around your feet was something not in my reach right now, but it will be soon. The staff that dug into my shoulder and brought me down to rest onto my knees was pitch black in colour and under the old man's hand was a golden hilt which was definitely made out of pure gold since this world is obviously not that intelligent to begin counterfeiting the material, which probably didn’t even need to be faked as this world probably had abundance of it situated underground and not excavated.

“Look at me!” The old man roared as he whipped his hand into my face, that I dodged my jolting my neck to the side.

...Time Passes

The carriage shook and swayed from side-to-side and my newly formed skin reduced the impact of every bump in the road. Before being placed into the carriage, I was half-beaten to death by an old person before being miraculously healed and cleaned by the same person. He had used magic to do it; he chanted a sentence before his body glowed bright and a white bubble floated out from his body and enveloped me in it. The chant had probably something to do with lessening the burden of the power requirement to use the magic, similar to how I need to use my hands to lessen the requirement. I remember all of what he had said before his magic appeared:

‘Bless this child of the saviour, and reduce his pain and suffering so that he could continue the legacy of man. His blood contains a part of the creator himself within, so I order the spirits of Octavius to come and cleanse the man before me so that he could live another day.’

I have not tried out the chant to see if I could create the same magic as him, which I really doubt I could because the magic that he used is probably unique and only he could use it. There is a lot of reasons to think this way, but the most simple one would be that I have not seen anyone else use that magic before and nor have I came across anyone else apart from myself and him that is capable of using magic. Huh? Now that I think about it, I might have seen magic being used after I was summoned. Yes! That brown wall that looked holographic must have definitely been a use of magic.

“Get away from me or I will skin you!” A muscular man grunted as he pushed my face away relatively easily.

“What are you talking about? Weren’t you ordered to look after me?” I asked coming back from my stupor.

“Yeah! But if you keep on leaning onto me and placing your head on my shoulder then I will kill you.” The man stated in anger as he tensed his arms and revealed the muscles through the tight shirt.

“I didn’t mean to do that” I told him before silently distracting myself in the corner of the carriage away from the man.

...Time Passes Once Again

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The carriage made an abrupt stop and I fell off my seat, but thankfully the man was there so I grabbed onto his shirt and ripped it...by accident, I didn’t want to fall and make a laughing stock of myself, but I still fell with a ripped parchment of fabric in my grasp. The man stood and looked down at me before swinging his leg into my ribs and sounding off a bone-cracking sound. I laughed it off as I thought the man was just joking by kicking me, but then his arm swung down onto my shoulder and dislocated it instantly.

His arm bulged as he grabbed onto my neck and heaved me off the floor before throwing me out the carriage, bits of wood pierced my frail skin as the door shattered.

“What are you doing?” I heard the carriage driver shout frantically.

Big-Person jumped from the carriage, making it rock backwards from the release of a large mass, and ran towards me with his bare chest revealed to the world. I heard a blade being pulled from its sheath and Big-Person stopped running. His neck dripped blood as a blade slightly punctured the skin, a guard stood in front of me, his blue cloak fluttering in the wind and his armour glinting from the rays of sun that landed on him. Long blue hair flew out from within his armour and long ears popped out, his stature looked thin and fragile but the armour that he carried seemed extremely heavy so he must have had built up a lean definition for himself.

“I believe that the agreement was that the slave not to be harmed” His feminine voice spoke out in a demanding tone which was clear and articulate, contrasting greatly from Big-Person’s brutish and unintelligent voice.

“He tore my shirt off so he needs to pay the price!” He grunted at the guard, but his eyes drooped downwards after his met mine.

“Then take the extra gold as compensation along with my pay for the slave.” The guard took his blade from Big-Person’s neck and threw a pouch of gold at him.

The big guy looked at the pouch before turning around and walking off, but not before coming back and remembering to give him a letter of some sorts. I felt my ribs with my index and thumb fingers, feeling the cracks in four ribs, I wanted to make it better but decided against it as my previous “healing” did not go well on my ankle, but that was to be expected when one tries to use a technique for placing dislocated joints back in place on a fractured bone and not a dislocated one. Speaking of dislocations…

I placed my hand around my dislocated arm and then tilted my body to smack my arm against the floor, but I was stopped as a blade smacked the top of my head. “What are you trying to do?” He asked me, looking down at me from above. His face was above average and the timing of the sun couldn’t be any better, the outlines of his long ears and hair were made darker from the sun in the background making his looks appear perfect. However, there is a stupid saying that annoys me: ‘nothing is perfect’ so then for what reason do people aim to improve their skills if they are never going to be the best/perfect?

“You are a weird one aren’t you?” He asked me, losing interest in knowing what I was trying to do.

His chiseled cheekbones and eyelashes complemented the fair and smooth looking skin on his face, without a blemish.

“Stop staring at me like that unless you want a broken nose!” He shouted at me before grabbing my dislocated arm and started pulling me towards a random place.

His legs were not any different from his face, as they both looked extremely healthy and nimble to movement, from the way the leg joints complied almost instantly without delay in accordance to his head movement. Now that I had the chance, I noticed that I was on the outskirts of a village and that this was probably the place where my slave transaction would take place, which it already had. I had expected that my “master” - is that what a slave calls their owners? - was going to be some guy-pig who wanted to torture me in a cell until I am rescued by a hero. I laugh and startle the guard, as he turns to look at me questioningly. Wasn’t I supposed to become a hero? It’s funny that a hero would try to depend on another hero in hopes of being saved, since you would never expect a hero to need to be saved. They are “perfect” when placed against evil, since they always come out on top.

I was pulled into a small-cabin surrounded by trees in a forest away from the village, then I had my hands tied by rough-rope with big sharp threads coming out, something you would tie a horse with but I am being tied by it. Does he expect me to turn into a horse, but I don’t have that sort of magic sorry “master”. I was placed up against the wall while the guard sat on the chair in front of me, after taking off his armour to reveal his normal-looking clothes, he looked expectantly at me with wanderlust filled eyes. I cannot become a horse…

“Tell me your name, how you ended up in a slave market, the experience you had there and how long you were there for. Also tell me your age and battle experience, or if you are able to use magic.” He said as he adjusted himself on the chair.

“My name is Yaeger Oakley, I ended up in the slave market after sexually harassing an old man. I was then sexually harassed by the same old man for a week before being driven to this place that I am in right now. I am 16 years old and have limitless combat experience in fighting rats on the farm back home. I know magic that allows me to make things float and turn into small pebbles.” I lied through my teeth, but he didn’t know that.

But he did...a single kick sent me unconscious as he shouted “liar”.