Creaking, rattling loose boards and metal bars reverberated inside the sunless carriage. The rough wooden bench underneath Ghost made her sore every time her captor’s box bounced. In a sense, she was lucky to have a carriage to herself, even if only because they didn’t risk mixing girls on their way to market with those headed for execution.
If she concentrated, muffled voices, along with the faint scent of dust and smoke leaked in, probably some sort of city. With so little sound and light it was difficult to guess how long she'd been in here, but they wouldn't leave Tythic without opening the door for inspection. Azure Junction would be the fastest route to Azashi, with an ARC to store her on Tythic's side of the border while the metsuke got some rest.
The rattling slowed, and the incessant rocking from uneven Tythic roads petered out. With a soft sigh, Ghost ran her fingers over the long waxy oval in her palm, carefully checking for sharp edges or small rocks that might’ve attached themselves during her ride. Finding nothing, she tipped her head back, opened her throat as wide as she could, and swallowed it whole. Tentatively, she touched her neck, kneading her throat to ensure she could still breathe.
A few moments after the carriage went still, the double doors clicked and swung open. Blinding sunlight swept over Ghost, highlighting the natural white roots bleeding through her fur’s faded grey dye. She raised a hand to shield herself, covering the thick black ring of fur around her eyes as she struggled to find the spearpoints of two men glaring into her box. “Out.”
Ghost rose, the chain binding her wrists clinking as she smoothed back her long ears. The spearmen were rabbits like her, clad in lamellar leather armour, along with matching faulds that guarded their thighs. Their wide, conical helmets bore the symbol of a yellow coin with a square cut from the centre, flanked by yellow laurels set on a white backdrop. The speaker was a third man who watched dispassionately from between the guards in a well-maintained, grey robe as she stepped onto the ground.
Her legs, coated in metal braces from the knee down rigidly that locked her ankles, threw off her balance if she tried to lean into anything faster than a walk. Ghost's feet clicked against the wood as she entered the ARC, pausing only long enough to locate the metsuke who brought her in, a woman eyeing her suspiciously from atop the carriage. Unlucky. Even a single metsuke made running next to impossible.
There were only two options for someone stupid enough to get caught. Either you resisted with everything you had, or saved your time and energy for a chance to strike. Up 'till now, Ghost had done the latter, but the moment she passed into the Azure Syndicate, her odds of escape dropped dramatically.
“This way, ghost.” The robed man motioned for her to follow and walked into a long building of Azure design, with flowing wooden rooftops and stylish engravings along the walls and support pillars. Inside, a cavernous room surrounding a raised platform was sparsely attended by rabbits and deer quietly scribbling at desks. The building was unmistakably an ARC, and they’d brought her on a day they weren’t showing off their slaves on stage. Unlucky again; a crowd to hide in would’ve made escape a lot easier.
A few men's eyes drifted up, slight grins touching their lips as they openly leered at her naked body. Those would be the newer ones, men who hadn’t been desensitized to the ‘allure’ of the products they sold. After taking a mental note of which ones looked, Ghost lowered her head and followed the grey-robed man through a door off the sales floor.
They marched down the hall, crossing sunbeams slipping through the windows covered by sturdy iron bars. The ARC’s backrooms were filled with simple hallways of polished wood, separating the showroom from everything the syndicate wanted kept from public view. This included prisoners and products, yes, but also a slave prep room, filled with tools and a solid operating table.
“Stop.” Her captor raised a hand, waiting for her to come to a complete halt before he knocked on a door. Hesitantly, Ghost peeked behind her. The metsuke and her guards had already completely unloaded their responsibility to the ARC so they could head into town for a real meal. Either she’d tricked them into thinking she wasn’t a threat… or tricked herself into thinking she was.
Another grey robed man, this one a deer, opened the room to reveal a single desk with a customer. The new slaver’s eyes swept over Ghost, mentally dismissing her before returning to his coworker. “What is it?”
“I need a private cell,” Ghost’s leader said, jerking a thumb in her direction. “This one’s bound for Azashi for execution.”
“You mean to stand trial?” Ghost asked dryly.
Both turned with wide eyes. Likely, the men were used to working with slaves who didn’t have the right to talk back, but until a syndicate lord declared her guilty, she did. The rabbit-boy's mouth twitched upward slightly. “Of course. This one’s bound for Azashi… to stand trial.”
The deer nodded, shuffling out of the room. “No problem. The prisoner cells are empty. Hey, after we get her secure, you think you could help me with this customer?”
Inside the room, a single quiet deer smelling of kale observed them. This one wore the black and green robes of an alpine monk, displaying a muscled frame on his bare right side along with a soft, curious expression. Ghost’s best guess? He was someone with generational wealth who holed up in one of those expensive pagodas his entire life, braving the town for the first time to buy himself a toy. A perfect mark.
“Please wait here, Sir,” The grey-robed deer said before sliding the door shut. The workers quieted, only resuming once out of earshot. “He’s looking for a slave who can serve as a guide into the Azure Syndicate. Trouble is, he’s one of those monks from the sex cult. Doesn’t want a girl that’s been sterilized.”
"What?" The rabbit asked, the edge in his voice making it clear he was just as eager as his friends to go relax. “Are you guys even Gaia compliant for breeding?”
“No. We'll have to order one from the farms.” The deer pushed a door aside, revealing a room with three empty cells lit by sunlight streaming through tiny windows just below the ceiling. The cells were simple iron bars, barely big enough to fit the padded board they expected her to sleep on, with a bucket for waste on one end. “But the coup threw off a lot of the paperwork, especially from the ARC’s near West Origin. If I send out an order for an unsterilized girl and they find out we had one on hand, someone's paying for it. I just need you for twenty minutes to question the girls with spotty records.”
With a sigh, her captor opened the small gate and ushered Ghost inside. When she sat on the bed, he seized her manacles and connected them to a steel ring jutting from the wall with a padlock. “Fine, twenty minutes. I escorted this one all the way from the islands and I’m dying for some real food.”
Ghost went slack against the wall, staring down in broken compliance until the door slid shut. It was now or never. With more information she could attempt a breakout under the cover of darkness, but any ARC worth its salt would be prepared. As good as Ghost was, the opportunity to exploit a weakness and escape was fast diminishing.
With a deep breath, Ghost bent over, gagging as the length of white wax worked its way up her throat and plopped into her hands. As soon as the moist lump hit her palms she squeezed, showering the floor with shredded bits of wax. When enough fell away, she fished out the protruding bits of metal, wiping away little white flecks from her prize.
With lockpick and tension wire in hand, Ghost set her sights on the padlock. It didn’t take long. Unlike a dungeon, ARCs were required to be profitable, and cheap locks kept slaves in check just as well as pricey ones. She popped it off with a soft click, tossing it onto the bed before working on her manacles.
Unfortunately, the locks on her leg braces would prove a fair amount trickier. Equipment the public purchased, like restraints and collars, were made of quality steel by some of the best Azure artisans alive. Crossing her fingers that the tools to remove them might be in the slave prep room, Ghost picked the cell’s lock, then crept to the hallway door.
A peek revealed an empty corridor, letting her slip free and creep about. Naturally, a rabbit's first instinct was always to run, but if it was that easy they wouldn’t have left her unguarded. Only the Azure border would greet her to the east, which meant she needed to escape west, through the maze of wooden stalls watched over by warbow wielding deer-girls. Then she’d need to cross the city proper, where several metsuke called home. Even if she avoided them, they were rabbit-girls specialized in hunting escaped slaves and criminals. They knew enough to bring in foxhunters.
Ghost peeked into the slave prep room, breathing a sigh of relief to find herself alone. About time I got lucky. The room was simple, desks lined with tools and surgical equipment in pristine order surrounded a sturdy table fitted with various clamps and restraints, awaiting their next victim. A grim shudder ran through Ghost as she touched the table before forcing herself away. Now wasn't the time for empathy. The odds of getting out alive already weren’t in her favour, and as soon as someone realized she’d left her cell, those odds took a nosedive. The cabinet locks weren't as shoddy as the ones from her cell, taking her twice as long to open. The minute it clicked, her pick clattered to the ground, abandoned in favor of fresh prizes. Inside, a wall of smooth, glass vials stared back, each filled with restricted alchemical cocktails. Ghost grabbed a black one, swirling the viscous liquid before returning to the tools.
Her muscles recalled the old motions as she lifted a gun from its stand. It was a marvel of stainless steel; a mesh of gears attached to a long needle running out the front while remaining compact enough to fit into one hand. This wasn’t a weapon, but it ended more lives than she ever could… well… Ghost’s body count was complicated, but it easily ended more lives than any spear.
The vial slid easily into the back of the gun, clicking as the clamp secured it. Next, she wound the crank on the side, ratcheting the gears and puncturing the cork with a thick needle. With everything ready, Ghost braced her finger against the trigger, set the needle inside her ear, then, for the first time since she escaped Han, hesitated. The needle hovered over her skin, shaking in an unsteady hand. “Stop that,” Ghost demanded, though her voice lacked conviction. “You survive.” She grit her teeth, tremors slowly fading. There wasn’t time for fear, every second wasted could be the one that got her killed. “You’re a survivor, you survive, no matter what. Now, one more time. Just. Do. It.”
With a last breath, Ghost pulled the trigger. The needle punched into tender skin, releasing a familiar pain as the area stained black. Just like that, Ghost was dead, and any reason for hesitation vanished. The nameless rabbit moved forward with the procedure as fast as it dared, carefully staining a number into its ear. After the first, it rewound the gun to ink a second, then a third, continuing until her flesh was eternally marred with a memento of her sins.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
Miyoko detached the ink and returned to the cabinet, gritting her teeth and ignoring the constant cries of pain from her empty stomach and tender ear. The lockpick and tension wire vanished beneath the ink, masking any evidence of where she'd been and what she'd done after the cabinet clicked shut. After a moment’s reflection, she wiped her eyes, grabbed one of the vials of ether they kept for surgery, and promptly swallowed it. Leaving evidence was dumb, swallowing breakable vials was risky, especially something this dangerous, but ether was on the restricted list! She couldn’t not steal some.
Click. After a final scan, Miyoko retrieved a blank steel collar and slipped into the hallway. Silence. Her escape had gone unnoticed, for now.
Miyoko crawled to the Alpine monk's door, raising the leg braces so they wouldn't touch the floor a she scurried down the hallway. Before entering she stopped, collected herself with a deep breath, and patted down her shaggy coat. It was demeaning, but it wasn't like there were a lot of options. The band of blank steel snapped snugly around her throat.
Inside, the monk watched wordlessly as Miyoko quietly shut the door and approached, bashfully covering her breasts. Her wide, desperate eyes locked with his as she fell to her knees with a stifled sniff. “Please, Sir...” she begged. “Please help me.”
Those dark brown eyes narrowed in suspicion, oval pupils narrowing to lines that leapt up and down as he took her in. “If the slaver doesn't have what I came for, he's not going to trick me into-”
“Please... keep your voice down." Miyoko raised her hands defensively and glanced at the door, fear only half feigned. “I’m Miyoko. I was too deep in debt to a syndicate lord to ever pay it off, so I was sentenced to a life as a sex slave to repay my debt. I’m to be sent to Azashi for training and sterilization.” The tears came easier than usual this time, though they wiped away just as cleanly. Softies loved when you humiliated yourself for them, but for men you needed to keep the tears from getting too childish or ugly to maintain 'sympathetic-but-fuckable.' “I didn’t want to lose my link to Deianira, so when I saw a man of faith, I snuck away to protect my divine light.” Good operations gave you time to study your target and prepare, but Miyoko was desperate, so she’d have to go with her gut and hope for the best. “I know it’s not fair, but if you don’t buy me before they realize I’m out of my cage...”
The longer she spoke, the softer his eyes grew, and by the end of her sob story he was wrapped around her finger. “Look, Miyoko...” the monk swallowed and lowered his eyes with a pained expression. “My money’s not exactly unlimited. I can’t just buy whoever I want.”
“You’re an alpine monk, right? Aren't you here for someone to strengthen your connection to the divine?” Miyoko watched his eyes drift lower as she spread her legs, tempting him with his 'sacred' prize. “I’m sure I don’t cost more than any other sex slave, Sir, but they haven't snuffed out my light. Not yet… But if you don't take it I'll lose it anyway. I'll... you know. Just keep me whole.”
The monk hesitated, studying her. “You understand what that means?”
Too easy. Miyoko tensed, then feigned a resigned nod. “I know it's not the ringing endorsement you'll get from the girls they've 'processed,' but I don't wanna get cut up and sent to a brothel. I'll admit I don't know much about your religion... but clearly I could use a change in my life and I'm, open to suggestions." Her trembling fingers reached out, pressing the fabric tight against his thigh. "I-I know I’m not much to look at right now, but after a few meals and a good brushing? I promise I’ll clean up real pretty.”
His intense stare lingered as he stiffened, then gently grabbed her wrist and pried her fingers free. “What did you do? Before the debt, I mean.”
Miyoko frowned, letting the arm go limp and hang above her head. “I’m a broker… oh, I mean, I was a broker. Now… Well, I know enough to get you whatever you need. I can't really prove it here, but we don’t have long for you to decide. They don’t let customers buy untrained girls, and they don't keep trained, unsterilized girls at the ARC. If they realize I’m not in my cell you'll be going home alone tonight.”
Concern flickered across the monk’s face while he weighed his options, then he sighed and stood, pulling Miyoko to her feet by her wrist. “Okay, let’s go.”
Damn, deer-boys are easy.
Miyoko's braces clicked as she stumbled behind the kale-smelling monk, forced to adjust her balance to keep pace. Luckily, once they hit the hallway he allowed her to set the pace as he guided her to the sales floor.
With a moment to breathe, Miyoko took stock of the possible threats remaining. Even she was surprised the idiot bought her sob story, rail, stock, and lathe, but with him in her pocket, only a stupid clerk stood in the way of sweet freedom. Her nose twitched, the overpowering scent of kale drawing her attention back to the monk and his hundred-florin dye job. She’d seen the monks before at a distance, but this was the first time getting close enough to make out the symbols they painted on their backs. Deianira’s mark was familiar enough, but Miyoko had to admire the quality of the linework, cleanly separating petals and leaves with smooth curves despite the uneven surface. The colouring, on the other hand, was terrible. The greens throughout the piece varied in hue, a hallmark of low-quality alchemist’s dye. Her head cocked as she scrutinized the work, unsure why anyone would bother being so precise just to ruin it. Upon further inspection, the dye bled beyond the lines, darkening the fur outside the symbol… in fact, it looked more like a stain.
Miyoko snapped to attention as they entered the showroom, instantly recalling the men behind the wooden desks to identify the next weak link. With a steady breath, she tugged on the monk’s robe. “Sir? That man over there’s free, and he doesn’t seem the type to ask too many questions.”
Her escort glanced that way, then nodded.
The man behind the desk was a young deer in a grey robe whose eyes openly roamed Miyoko as they approached. “Good choice,” he said, turning his gaze to the monk with a suggestive grin. “You know what they say about rabbits… is it your first?”
A strong, confident hand dropped onto Miyoko’s head, firmly gripping her ears. The monk’s demeanour shifted, lips spreading into a lascivious grin. “My first, and I’m looking forward to breaking her in. How could I resist, with fur this soft?”
Panic shot through Miyoko, though she kept her reaction to a dejected sigh. The man’s possessive clutches betrayed his true intentions, although she couldn’t have asked for a better partner to bluff the clerk.
The clerk’s grin split wider as he nodded. “Well, let’s get the boring parts out of the way. Ticket?” The monk handed over a slip of paper, which the clerk quickly checked. “Okay, Ashling, let me just check her ASN.”
So, the monk’s name was Ashling? Good to know, not that it’d matter for much longer. Miyoko stepped forward, slipping from underneath his hand and turning to offer the clerk her ear.
Breath stuck in Miyoko’s throat as she lowered her head, ignoring the slight pinch in her ear as he lay in across the table. Without a mirror, she could only desperately stare into the ceiling and pray she hadn’t made a mistake. After a few tense seconds, he released her, then ducked behind the desk and returned with a large book.
Muscles relaxing, Miyoko retreated to Ashling’s side to watching the clerk check pages before finally selecting one, a sour look filling his face.
“Something wrong?” Ashling questioned.
“Yeah...” the clerk mumbled. “Her number’s here; she’s a registered slave with a price and everything, but it says she’s already been sold. Years back.”
“I was purchased previously, Sir,” Miyoko cut in, lowering her head and folding her hands. “They resold me at West Origin three months ago.”
A loud, irritated grunt resonated from the clerk as he leaned back. “Fucking West Origin, of course it’s West Origin. You know how badly that coup fucked up our paperwork? It’s been three months and we’re still correcting errors!”
“I’m sorry...” Ashling cast a sidelong glance at Miyoko. “But, what does that mean for me? I really wanted this one.”
“Oh, no, I’m selling her.” The clerk quickly set Ashling’s ticket down, scribbling furiously. “I’m not about to lose my commission just ‘cause West Origin can’t get its shit together.” He turned the ticket around, sliding it across the counter with a finger. “Here, final confirmation this is the price you were quoted?”
Ashling glanced, then nodded.
“Great.” The clerk leaned forward, stamping the ticket and relinquishing Miyoko’s ownership papers. “That should do it. Take this to the girls at the vault. They’ll return your change and give you the key to her braces. After that, head down the street and give this to any Azure syndicate blacksmith. They’ll etch your name and her ASN on her collar. You can take her to another smith for a custom job if you like, but ours will do it for free.” After a last lustful stare, the clerk snapped his fingers. “Right, this is your first rabbit. Those notched rods are gonna slide all the way into her braces and it'll open and lock itself. Return them to any ARC and we’ll refund your 3000 florin deposit.”
Ashling grabbed the small slip of paper with a grin, thanked the clerk, then made for the vault desk on the opposite side of the room. Miyoko’s eyes returned to the monk’s back, studying it while his funds were released. The closer she looked, the more sure she was that it wasn't dye at all. Based on the smell she suspected he doused it in kale juice to appear greener, but why? Even if the colour was some sort of status thing among the monks, no one at the ARC would know the difference.
The attendant Ashling's backpack, which he promptly swung over his shoulder, blocking his symbol with the heavy jingle of coin. For a moment, Miyoko’s eyes lingered on his pack, wondering just how much money he had left. Surely, a few florins would make her escape easier… But if there was one lesson she learned from her little misadventure, it was the importance of playing it safe. Her eyes flicked about at the other animals and a little grin played on her lips as she walked naked out the front door in broad daylight. You thought you could catch a Ghost? Good luck. None of you can even see me.
“So… Miyoko, my name’s Ash.” The monk’s kind front returned as he led her from the ARC. “I know this was kind of a rush, but I want you to know I’ll take care of you. I’m sure it’s not exactly the life you’d choose, but you don’t need to worry.”
“Thank you, Sir.” Miyoko flashed a nervous smile. How sweet. The rich boy buying himself a sex slave wants a wilting flower to protect. She took his hand between hers and pressed into his side. “I'm truly blessed to have been saved by a kind master.”
Ashling beamed, placing a protective hand on her shoulder. “I’m staying at a place called ‘Eden’ a few kilometres from the city. Let's get you home and settled in tonight. We can come back to buy supplies in the morning.”
Obviously he stayed in Eden. That cult had over a hundred compounds throughout the world, and insisted on naming all of them Eden, differentiated only by the major cities they built near. The insides of those compounds were still a mystery to her, of course. The accommodations were expensive, and the cultists somehow appreciated privacy less than the syndicate, making them the worst of both worlds for someone like her. “Sorry I’m moving so slow,” she pouted, loudly clanking her legs together. “If you remove the braces...”
“No,” Ash blurted before Miyoko could finish. “Sorry, but no. I need to keep all your bindings on until you meet my Whip, Khukri.”
Miyoko’s eyes widened as she trailed Ashling toward the smiths. “...What’s a whip-khukri? And what happens to me when I meet it?”
A half-smile formed on Ashling's face. “Khukri’s my… hunter’s name. Up in The Direwood, each slave pack has one called a Whip who coordinates their group. Khukri can be a bit… intense, sometimes, but she’s really a nice girl. She’s been through a lot, though. Just listen to her, and if she ever crosses a line, let me know.”
A hunter? Wait, one of those psycho hunting dogs from the Direwood Syndicate? Miyoko sighed bitterly. Of course there's another tripwire waiting for me. There's always is.