Over the next two days Adam worked hard on his meditation. Or as hard as a teenage boy can work at anything that is just sitting in one place and trying not to think.

During the times he was on the cart he found that Martin was right, and it was both easier and harder to do. He could grasp the correct state of mind easier with the rhythmic motion and noises, but also found those same things distracting him from slipping all the way into his own mind. As for his evening meditations, he was mostly just bored. The correct state of mind was harder to find, so he struggled to manage anything at all.

The second night Adam was getting frustrated with his lack of progress, which was only making things worse, so Martin sent him to bed, seeing the boy was too irritated to actually accomplish anything. As he lay in bed, Adam thought back over their trip.

Their travel through the Blue Sea Forest was mostly uneventful. The guards fought a few more monsters as they traveled, but they all met the same fate as the troll had. None of the things they fought even required them to slow down, yet alone stop. Adam was so removed from the danger that he was more interested in what types of enemies the guards fought, than how they did so. He quickly added dire wolves, goblins, and forest spiders to his list of monsters he had seen. There had been others, but the bowmen often killed things out of his sight.

At night they set up camp at the way stations along the road. They were nothing fancy, just stone walls surrounding a bunkhouse, all raised by magic some time past. The duke’s men took turns manning the walls, sharing the watch with the guards of any other travelers they encountered. Martin kept him away from the other people, so he didn’t really know who they were, or why they were passing through the forest. According to Martin he had been given a task, and he would complete it. Slavery at its finest.

Eventually he dropped off to sleep, only for the old, mustached slave driver wake him in the middle of the night. With no alarms sounding, and no concerned looking guards rushing around, Adam was confused as to why he was awake, and his attitude reflected it. “What?” he growled.

Seeing a grumpy, half awake teen trying to intimidate him, Martin smiled. “Meditation practice.”

The boy just stared. No way in hell was he getting up in the middle of the night to- ”Duke said three days. That means you tell him about your class tomorrow, or you’ll be punished each day until you do.”

Silence reigned as the two looked at each other. When Adam opened his mouth to ask, Martin just spoke over him. “I said he preferred to not punish his slaves, not that he wouldn’t. He is as fair as he can be, but he still owns you.”

Without further argument Adam headed out of the bunkhouse. There was no need to disrupt the sleep of the others, even if meditation practice was typically silent. Around the backside of the bunkhouse, he got into the lotus position. He had difficulties at first as his mind was caught up in fear and worry over Martin’s words, the reality of his situation finally catching up with him.

Slavery was not an Apprenticeship. Yes, some Apprenticeships resembled slavery, but it was only superficial. A number came with no pay, only room and board, but also included expensive tools. Others demanded strict confidentiality and absolute obedience, but taught secret recipes or spells that were dangerous to work with thus needing strict attention to the rules. Combat Apprenticeships would all involve pain, but that was part of combat so it was understood. Only slavery had all of those with none of the compensation.

He was a slave. There was no compensation for his work. No high paying job at the end of his training with dangerous solutions. No great power rewarded for learning his master’s personal spells. And no entrance to a guild or army for enduring basic training. For Adam it would be to do his job, or else.

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The fear and despair he had felt when Szellem first showed him his affinity came back. His spirit guide had shown him a path to a better future, but his present was restraining him from reaching for it. He could feel the slave brand on his chest pressing against his heart and lungs, heavier than the pile of chains he had been buried beneath. He struggled, searching for a way out, a rationalization for why it wasn’t the end of all hope for him.

The duke had said that he would be caring for and protecting his children. That would give him the ability to level. It was a gold mine of experience for his class. And he knew how to raise kids somewhat. Ready-made children for him to raise might even ease the work for him, as they weren’t likely to be babies. He still didn’t know how old they were, having continuously forgotten to ask.

They were noble children though. He had raised street kids. Were there differences? Clothes, attitudes, education. These were the things of nobility that he knew of, but didn’t know how to teach. He still didn’t know what etiquette was, although he had heard the word when one of the other men had made a joke to Martin. Apparently it had to do with how to eat, and which fork he was supposed to be using.

The only good thing about them being noble that he could see was that nobility often had fewer children than most commoners. Successional wars could be very bloody, so nobles tended to stop at a small number. The heir, the spare, and the trade commodities is what he had heard it called in the market.

Adams' thoughts were racing out of control. He could barely even keep track of the back and forth. Fear and hope battled in his psyche for dominance.

The Duchess might not like him.

The kids would love his stories of being a thief in the market.

He didn’t actually have an education.

He could learn from the tutors of the kids.

He’d never be free.

All kids eventually hit Apprentice.

What then when he would be useless?

Freedom, he was a debt slave.

How much pain would he have to endure?

How much would he endure to see his orphaned family again?

His slavery would only end in death.

Martin watched as Adam crumbled. He could see it in his slumped posture, the shaking of his limbs. He hadn’t wanted to do this, but it was necessary. The boy had been riding the high of the Gifting. Add in the extermination of the largest threat to his family, as well as their return to the safe confines of the orphanage, and he was essentially floating on a sea of euphoria.

But that escape from reality needed to end. Adam needed to understand his situation. The duke wouldn’t have had him punished for failing to meet his deadline, but Adam’s value would have fallen in his mind, and that was much worse than the pain of the brand. A slave with lessened value would be treated as less. And in the end, slaves were possessions.

Possessions that people valued less were mistreated, lost, neglected, abandoned, abused, broken, discarded, or sold.

Martin had seen it many times, both during his time as a slave and as a free man. It wasn’t something anyone should have to see, yet alone experience. The gradual slide from person, to possession, to object, to waste. It did things to a man to have to watch, over and over, as people became refuse. His soul was too tired, too injured, to have to watch as a child went through that process.

So he gave Adam a push. It was kindness disguised as cruelty. It hurt him to do it, but it was a cleansing pain. There was another route to the mindscape. Get someone too far down the path to complete emotional and rational catatonia, and the mind will pull them in. Most times.

Adam tumbled down the spiraling tunnel of hope and despair, lost in his emotions. Unable to focus on meditation, too terrified to let go of what little of the world around him that he could grasp.

Vertigo reached forth to capture him, but his mind opened its arms and embraced him again. Welcoming him to the void of his mindscape, and its resident giant sign.

With a small, sturdy table that was decorated with a crimson cloth turned so its corners dangled over the edges. Atop the cloth was a small card, and a note.