Anjing

It has been four long years since that fateful day. Four years since my village was razed to the ground and my father was taken from me by those vile demons. About six months later, I was sold into slavery to a human noble whose daughter desired something 'exotic' to flaunt in front of her friends. After parading me around a few times, they cruelly cut the tips of my ears, deeming my elven appearance no longer useful. Now, I am just another slave on the estate, forced into grueling labor and subjected to beatings for the slightest infraction, however arbitrary it may be.

My days are a blur of toil and torment. The work is backbreaking, and the punishments are severe. The baron's daughter, once amused by my presence, now scarcely acknowledges me, except to deliver the occasional lash with a sadistic smile. The baron himself is no better, his eyes cold and indifferent as he oversees his domain. Every time I falter, a whip cracks against my skin, leaving welts that never seem to fully heal. The physical pain is unbearable, but it is the humiliation and the loss of my identity that cut the deepest.

News from the outside world is rare, and I only hear about significant events—changes in national leadership or major conflicts. Such information trickles down through the maids, butlers, and other servants who gossip in hushed tones when the baron or his daughter aren't around. Their whispers are a lifeline to a world beyond my chains, though they offer little solace.

The despair that gnaws at my soul is relentless. I often lie awake at night, haunted by memories of my home and the family I lost. The anger and sorrow are a constant ache, but I have learned to bury my emotions deep within, for showing any sign of weakness only invites more cruelty. I cling to a fragile hope that someday I might escape this nightmare, but as the years drag on, that hope dims, replaced by a bitter acceptance of my fate.

In this place, I am less than a person; I am a thing to be used and discarded at will.

"Have you heard?" The butler's voice reached me, muffled through the thin wall separating us.

"About what?" came the response from a maid, her tone tinged with mild curiosity.

"The wandering warrior," he whispered urgently. "He's hunting anyone or anything connected to demons."

A spark of interest flickered in her voice. "Really? I've heard rumors he's nearby. But why should we worry? The only connection we have is that elven slave the master bought. Isn't she technically of demon origin, since we acquired her from them?"

The man's voice trembled with fear. "Yes, exactly. But what if the warrior finds out? What if he comes here?"

"People who have actually seen her aren’t even aware of her true origin. They wouldn't think twice about it." She dismissed his concern with a nonchalant tone. "And why would he know that? She looks just like any other slave now, especially after they altered her appearance. Besides, no one pays attention to the slaves. They're invisible."

"But what if someone talks?" he pressed, his anxiety palpable. "What if someone slips up and mentions it?"

She sighed, clearly unconcerned. "You're worrying over nothing. If the warrior comes, he'll be looking for demons or those directly associated with them, not some mutilated elven slave. Now, stop fretting and get back to your duties."

Their voices faded as they moved away, leaving me with a renewed sense of unease. The thought of a wandering warrior seeking vengeance on anything related to demons was both a glimmer of hope and a source of dread. Could this warrior be my chance at freedom, or just another harbinger of suffering? I clung to the faint hope that perhaps someone out there still cared about justice and retribution, even if it was only a distant whisper in the night.

"You're right, we should be focusing on the reception instead of that rumor," the butler conceded, his tone gradually calming. "Duke Ainsworth will be here any minute after all! We need to ensure everything is in perfect condition, or Baron Nett will have our heads!"

Their conversation grew fainter as they walked away from the wall through which I had been eavesdropping. The mention of a wandering warrior hunting those involved with demons gnawed at my thoughts. Surely, such a crusade would not include victims like me, would it?

The clamor of preparations reached a crescendo as activity surged around the manor in anticipation of the Duke's arrival. Suddenly, the door in front of me burst open, and the Baron's daughter stood there, glaring down at me with her usual disdain.

"Come on," she commanded, her voice laced with irritation. "Daddy wants me to take you into town so that the Duke doesn't discover your identity. For some reason, he believes that a single glance will give it away."

She held the scroll in her hand, the slave command inscribed upon it. The mere thought of seizing that paper and destroying it had crossed my mind countless times, but the memory of the unimaginable pain that followed such thoughts always held me back. The magical binding was relentless, and any attempt to defy it would result in excruciating agony, nearly paralyzing me with its intensity.

As I followed her out of the room, the weight of my chains felt heavier than ever. The bustling servants, the impending arrival of the Duke, and the murmurs of the wandering warrior all swirled in my mind, creating a storm of anxiety and faint hope. The town loomed ahead, a place I rarely saw, filled with strangers who might hold the key to my freedom or further seal my fate.

With every step, I couldn't help but wonder if the warrior's presence was a sign. Was there a chance for salvation amidst the darkness of my captivity? Or was it merely another cruel twist in a life that had seen too many?

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The Baron's daughter also brought along a few warrior slaves instead of guards. Their presence intended to protect her should any danger arise. These warriors, though appearing to be in their thirties and covered in scars, lacked the muscular or intimidating build one might expect. This was likely due to years of malnutrition and relentless abuse. Unlike me, they did not bear the chains around their wrists, a small mercy perhaps, but a reminder of their shared fate. In this land, slavery was perfectly legal; only interracial slavery was forbidden. To the casual observer, my altered appearance would reveal nothing of my elven heritage.

We wandered aimlessly through the town, our only objective to kill time until the Duke’s arrival and departure. Hearing the servants gossip earlier had kindled a spark of hope within me, a chance that I might encounter this wandering warrior and see if he would recognize my plight. But that hope was quickly extinguished. The Baron's daughter’s insistence on keeping me out of the Duke's sight suggested that he might indeed have intervened had he known of my true identity. Yet, it seemed that in this world, evil often had the upper hand.

"I can't believe I'm wasting my time out here because of you," she grumbled, her voice dripping with irritation. "I could be mingling and getting closer to Taylor, but here I am, stuck with you and these smelly fighter slaves."

Her words stung, not only for me but also for the warriors who, despite their mistreatment, were forced to endure her insults.

"You know Taylor?" A deep voice interrupted, startlingly close, catching us all off guard.

"Huh?!" she squealed in surprise, flinching and cowering behind me and the very slaves she had just disparaged. Her sudden cowardice likely wounded their pride, but they were powerless to act, bound by the same magical scroll that controlled me. "What are you three waiting for? He tried to kill me!" she shrieked, her voice rising in indignation.

In her panic, she momentarily forgot to give an actual command, leaving us all standing in tense silence. The mysterious voice belonged to a tall figure cloaked in shadow, his eyes glinting with a dangerous intensity. The warrior slaves, despite their bedraggled appearance, tensed, ready to act if ordered. I could see the conflict in their eyes; they were fighters by nature, but their spirits had been broken by years of subjugation.

The Baron's daughter fumbled with the scroll, her hands trembling. "Do something!" she finally managed to cry out, her voice wavering.

The figure stepped closer, his presence imposing. "Since you know Taylor," he said calmly, his gaze leveled on her and observing every little detail. "You must be someone relatively high up. Where's the one related to demons?"

We both shivered at his cold tone, but the warriors stood there motionless, not even reaching for their sheathed weapons.

"Get him!" she commanded, her voice shrill with panic. The three warrior slaves were compelled to obey, charging the mysterious man before us. In an astonishing display of skill, the stranger dispatched them with effortless speed, leaving them motionless on the pavement, their faces pressed against the cold stone.

The man sighed, a sound of weary resignation, before turning his attention to me. Our eyes met, and for a moment, he seemed to see through me, as if peering into my very soul. He paused, his expression shifting from curiosity to something more profound. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, the clatter of approaching guards filled the air, encircling us with weapons drawn.

"Stand down!" one of the guards barked. "You attacked the Baron's daughter and will be imprisoned, if not executed, for your crimes!"

The stranger's calm demeanor evaporated as his gaze shifted back to me. His eyes blazed with fury, and I felt a chill of dread run down my spine. Was this the warrior who hunted those connected to demons? Was he here to kill me?

The guards tightened their circle, their weapons glinting menacingly in the fading light. The man clenched his fists, his anger palpable. "I am not here for you," he spat at the guards. "But if you stand in my way, all of you will die."

The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. The Baron's daughter, still cowering behind me, screeched, "Do something! Arrest him!"

The guards hesitated, clearly intimidated by the stranger’s gaze. In that moment of uncertainty, he looked at me again, his expression a mixture of unfiltered rage and something else—recognition, perhaps? I couldn't tell. All I knew was that my fate hung in the balance.

"I am searching for those affected by demonic influence," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "And I believe you know something about that."

His words sent a jolt of fear through me. Was he aware of my origins? Did he know that I had been a victim, not a collaborator? The guards began to close in, their determination renewed by the Baron's daughter's frantic orders.

"I have no intention to hurt the girl," the stranger growled, his eyes leaving mine for a brief moment to point out the Baron's daughter. "I'm here for the elf."

The captain of the guards stepped forward, his face set in a grim line. "There is no elf but we have our orders. Surrender, or we will take you by force."

The stranger laughed, a harsh, mirthless sound. "You can try," he said, his voice dripping with malice. He shifted into a defensive stance, ready to face them all.

In the chaos that ensued, I found myself frozen, torn between the hope that this man might be my savior and the fear that he could just as easily be my executioner. The guards lunged, the stranger moved with lethal ferocity, and I stood there, a silent witness to the unfolding battle. He was effortlessly evading even the spells that were being occasionally rained down on him. The spells he couldn't dodge though, he'd grab a nearby guard and force them to take the attack. For each guard he cut down, another two seemed to come running.

My heart pounded in my chest as the clash of steel and the shouts of combatants filled the air. In the midst of the turmoil, the stranger's eyes met mine once more. "Run," he mouthed silently.

I hesitated, the command echoing in my mind. Run. Was this my chance? Could I escape this nightmare? The decision weighed heavily upon me, but the instinct for survival finally won out. As the stranger fought off the guards, I turned and attempted to flee before the slave scroll activated and I was locked in place. "Y-You're not going anywhere. Especially since this m-murderer knows about your lineage." She called out, a half-confident smirk on her features. This stranger was here, fighting for me to get away, yet I was still unable to get away. Was my fate to be their slave for eternity?

The sound of paper ripping and a shriek forced me back to reality as I watched a small dog tear the slavery scroll to bits. I could already feel the mental and physical blocks dissipating and my freedom taking their place. "Leave." A gruff voice came from the dog, stunning me for an instant. Realizing the stakes, I'd much rather risk whatever these two had in store for me rather than continue being enslaved to the Baron.

I turned and fled into the labyrinthine streets of the town, the sounds of battle fading behind me. The world outside the manor walls was a blur as I ran, my heart pounding with a mixture of fear and exhilaration. I didn't know where I was going or what awaited me, but for the first time in years, I felt a glimmer of hope.

Out of immediate danger, the words half-heard through the excitement, muffled by the battle, became the forefront of my thoughts.

"I might slaughter the whole city."