"Fuck me, how long have we been riding for?" The first bandit nagged.

"This one, all he does is complain, complain, complain," the second bandit said, pinching his nose in annoyance.

"Ay, heads up, we're close, I can see the towering pillars of the city from here," the third bandit informed, pointing ahead.

"It looks like a penis in the sky to me," the fourth bandit remarked with a coarse laugh.

"Will you shut up," the bandit leader sighed, growing sick of their jokes. His tone was weary, his patience wearing thin.

Meanwhile, at the back, dragged along, was Marcus plotting an escape. He knew the imprisoned outnumbered the bandits at 10:5.

Marcus knew if they all tugged, the bandits holding their ropes would fall off their horses.

Yet, Marcus didn't act. Marcus knew after, that he wouldn't have food or money. His fellow captives would fight over the bandit's possessions. That would mean him, too, fighting for the chance to eat.

Marcus quickly realized his future, a slave, owned by a master. His eyes became full of dullness. He reminisced on his village, and how it had been slaughtered.

Marcus began to look worse for wear—his wounds festered with infection.

"Nasty," he thought.

Marcus wasn't looking forward to the city of Iria now that it was up and personal in his face.

Usually, slavery is banned in the Western continents, except for Lacarta. The great city of Iria relied on the crude trade, selling thousands of slaves to the north, and serving as workers in its grand ivory mines.

As the bandit horde enters the city, Marcus ponders what will happen if Marcus finds none of Mister Aelius's allies. Suddenly, feelings rush over Marcus. He remembers the village, and he falls to his knees, but the rope tightens, yanking him up.

"Up boy, up!" The bandits command.

Marcus couldn't grasp the truth of the village. He's surprised and saddened but unwavering nevertheless. The bandits seemed to have paid a sum to enter with the many slaves they dragged behind them.

"The city of Iria, strange for sure," Marcus thought.

Crowded, dirty, and unsightly are the best words to describe the city.

The city reeked of manure and was tightly packed. Taking half a step would lead to contact with another person.

"Alright, boys, routine," the bandit leader signaled to the market center located left and around the corner of the local tavern.

Of course, Marcus and the other slaves were dragged over with their hands tied and fenced in like animals waiting for the next course of action. Irian men spoke with thick accents and open vowels.

They were robes dyed green yet dirtied enough to look brownish.

They commanded the slaves to move single files to be measured and physically examined.

As Marcus stood in line, he couldn't help but marvel at the intricate stonework and the grand arches that adorned the buildings of Iria. Despite its squalor, the city held an air of ancient majesty.

The bandits herded the slaves through the market, where merchants haggled over goods and buyers inspected the new arrivals.

His heart pounded as he was shoved forward, closer to the auction block.

The bandits collected their cut of pay and then rode off.

"Next!" a stout man with a booming voice shouted, eyeing Marcus.

Marcus stepped up, feeling the weight of a thousand eyes upon him. He was poked and squeezed, his wounds examined carelessly. The man announced his qualities, extolling his youth and strength while glossing over the cuts and bruises on his body.

"Bidding starts at ten silver denarii!"

Marcus felt humiliated. Ten silver pieces were what his life had become worth. He scanned the crowd, searching desperately for a familiar face, someone who might help him.

Suddenly, a commotion erupted at the edge of the market. Marcus strained his body to see what was happening.

A group of riders were pushing their way through the crowd. Leading them was a stern-faced man with a hooked nose. His greyish, bushy eyebrows remained expressionless.

A tall bald man who exuded charisma and sophistication.

He wore a cloak draped over one shoulder, richly dyed and decorated. He carried a shortsword at his waist and wore a bronze cuirass.

"That man," The man shouted, pointing directly at Marcus. "He's my kin."

The crowd parted, murmuring in surprise. The rotund auctioneer looked flustered but quickly composed himself.

"And so what, this man is up for auction. You'll have to bid like everyone else."

The man's eyes blazed with anger, but he tossed a heavy pouch of coins onto the platform.

"25 gold pieces, you filthy animal."

A hush fell over the market. No one dared to challenge such a high bid. The auctioneer, his greed overcoming any sense of decency, nodded.

"Sold!"

Marcus was untied and pushed towards the men who saved him. Relief washed over him as he was pulled onto the back of a horse. His wounds pulsed with pain, but he felt a glimmer of hope.

"Are you okay, boy?" The man questioned.

"Yes," Marcus murmured, looking back at the auction house.

"My boy, you are lucky I was here when I was." The man proclaimed.

"Yes thank you, but who are you?" Marcus inquired.

He laughed, answering, "Don't you remember the good businessman lord who visited your village many some years ago?"

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

"My name is Ancus Venti Nasica, ruler of the great Lacartan city-state of Ventenia,"

"What's a man like you have to do with my village?"

"Me and the chief, Aelius, go back to the War of the Seven Lacartan States. When you're forced into a brutal war, not knowing whether you'll live, you make good friends."

"But, that was 30 years ago when we were young," Ancus said, a thin smile washing over him." I'm surprised you don't remember my visit to village Meru. I suppose you were only a boy. To be honest, I didn't know whether you were the boy I saw when I visited either."

"So, you bought me on a whim?" Marcus inquired

Ancus quickly refuted, "Not a whim, it was an educated guess, to say."

Marcus nodded and then swiftly returned to his questioning. "Ok, but Ventenia? Isn't that far south, why are you here?"

"I was here to meet a potential business partner, I had happened to hear the gossip of a village set ablaze. I recognized the name Meru instantly, having visited many times. I had just started preparing to look for survivors when I finished my business in Iria, and then I saw you."

They both went silent with the talk of the Irian marketplace filling the empty noise.

"Anyway., can you read boy?" Ancus asked.

"Yes, my adoptive mother taught me, I'm also skilled in farming and craftsmanship," Marcus said.

"Ah yes, Helena was it, she seemed like a good woman, may the gods let her rest."

"Well, I have a prospect for you, I'll take you in as my assistant-steward, I've been piling up work managing Ventenia. My past steward died to the red plague, may the seven gods rest his soul."

"You want me to follow you, South?" Marcus asked.

He had never been up that far. He only knew of the warm climate of central Lacarta. Marcus then soon realized the gravity of his circumstances and immediately accepted.

Ancus generously bought a caravan for Marcus and his men. Marcus was surprised by his wealth, wondering how one man could have so much gold that other men could carry it around for him.

As they rode out of Iria, Marcus peeked out one last time.

The city's high walls and bustling streets seemed less menacing now. He knew he had been lucky this time, but many others would not be.

It would take weeks until they reached Ventenia. the journey was taxing, but Marcus's health improved steadily under Ancus's care.

Days passed before they stopped at the petty city of Talania. They took advantage of their time to buy supplies for the rest of the journey.

Talania was humble but strong.

The city's fortified walls, weathered by time yet standing tall and proud. The architecture was practical, with stone buildings and cobbled streets, built to endure harsh climates. The skyline pierced with towering domes and the occasional tower.

The people of Talania were a mix of locals and travelers, each going about their daily lives with a sense of purpose.

Merchants in simple attire bartered with customers over goods from distant lands, while craftsmen and laborers worked diligently in the market square. The atmosphere was bustling yet serene, with a pervasive sense of community and solidarity among its inhabitants.

As Marcus rested and recovered, he and Ancus procured supplies to continue their journey. The marketplace offered essentials like dried fruits, hearty bread, and oils, all displayed by local vendors who greeted them warmly.

Marcus's strength returned a little before they approached Ventenia.

Upon arrival, Marcus was in awe of Ventenia's grandeur.

The city was nestled in a lush valley surrounded by rolling hills and thick forests. Its streets were clean and orderly, lined with well-crafted buildings and bustling markets. Ventenia was a stark contrast to Iria.

It was hotter too, the heat almost melted him into the road.

At Ancus's estate, Marcus's new life began. He was tasked with the boring duties of managing the daily operations of the household and the estate's vast lands.

The morning sun bathed Ventenia in a golden glow as Marcus rose to begin his first day of being an assistant steward.

As the assistant steward, his responsibilities were varied and demanding, requiring him to oversee the smooth operation of Ancus Venti Nasica’s vast estate.

Today, a particularly important task awaited him: supervising the construction of a new granary.

Ancus came with him to explain how things would work and what he should do. Marcus was a quick learner, paying close attention to Ancus's words.

Life in Ventenia was fulfilling but not without its challenges.

Ancus's son, Caius, was away serving in the Lacartan army, leaving Marcus to handle many of the responsibilities Caius would have taken on along with being the new acting steward. Marcus and Ancus worked closely together.

Marcus gradually, unknowingly earned a hint of his Ancus's trust and respect through his dedication.

Ventenia was renowned for its fertile lands and abundant harvests. However, with prosperity came the need for efficient storage solutions to safeguard the surplus of crops.

The old granary had served its purpose but was now inadequate for the estate’s growing needs. Ancus had commissioned a new, larger granary, and it was Marcus’s duty to ensure the project was completed on time and to the highest standards.

Marcus donned his new tunic—a generosity of Ancus, before making his way to the construction site. The site was situated on the inner edge of the city. It was cramped and bustling with activity.

As he approached, he could see the laborers already hard at work, their silhouettes moving against the backdrop of rising walls and scaffolding. The site was a hive of activity, with workers hauling stones, mixing mortar, and shaping wooden beams.

The men looked up to wipe the sweat off their brows, noticing Marcus.

"Thats the boy Ancus brought with him from Iria?" A laborer gossiped.

"Yes, I hope he's not as dumb as he looks." Another laborer breathed in exhaustion.

"Get back to work," the laborer-in-charge commanded sternly.

“Hello,” Marcus waved for their attention. “Master Ancus sent me to take a look at what’s been done.”

Together, they walked the perimeter of the site.

Marcus inspected the foundations, noting the precision with which the stones had been laid. The walls were rising steadily, their sturdy construction a testament to the skill of the masons.

"Is there any requests you need to ask of Master Ancus?" Marcus inquired while using his hand to block the sun from his face.

“We’re running low on quality timber,” The laborer-in-charge admitted.

"Okay, ill pass the message directly to Ancus."

"Oh, and, what's your name?" Marcus pulsed with curiosity.

The laborer responded swiftly, "Lucius, and yours?"

"Marcus," He said as he shook his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Marcus," Lucius smiled.

The sun began to set, casting long shadows over the construction site, Marcus took a final tour to assess the day’s progress.

As he walked back to the villa, Marcus felt a renewed sense of purpose. His duties were demanding, but they also provided him with a profound sense of fulfillment.

Although it would be impossible to forget about his old village, this would be his new life.

Marcus would trudge back back the Ventenia estate. Ancus had given him a small house to the left front of the giant estate.

As Marcus approached the estate, the first sight was the grand entrance, flanked by tall, elegant columns of white marble.

The wide, cobblestone driveway was lined with trimmed trees, leading up to a large portico where guests were greeted with warmth and hospitality. The main entrance doors were a sight in itself, made of heavy oak and adorned with intricate bronze fittings.

As Marcus was admiring the grandeur of the estate he brushed by Anca, Ancus's oldest and only daughter.

"Sorry," Marcus said as he checked to see who he brushed by.

"It's okay," Anca replied softly, hiding her face from Marcus and burying her face in the book she was reading.

Marcus thought their interaction was strange, rather she was strange.

He said nothing of it reporting the progress of the granary to Ancus and heading off to sleep through the night.

Before he could rest, thoughts bolstered through his head. His eyes became fixated on the ceiling.

He thought about how rough the past month had been for him.

Marcus then thought about the Ventenian land.

"Maybe I'll go to the market and see what the Ventenian marketplace is like." Marcus thought in desperation of something to do outside of work.

A grumbling sound released from his stomach, his body begging for sustenance.

"Ugh, enough," Marcus said, burying his face into the cushioned floor before forcing his eyes shut and falling asleep.

His life could only go up from here, right?