For two days, Rall's consciousness failed to return. Lady Sharyah had ordered Fiel to take care of the child and do everything in his power to make sure he survived.

The first thing he had done was taking the boy to the third carriage of the convoy, which housed three beautiful young women of different ethnicities and in differently-colored silky dancer attires. These girls were Lady Sharyah's high-end products, highly-skilled slaves that she had strictly trained for years so that they would never refuse one of their master's commands, regardless of its nature or difficulty. The fourth carriage held the same kind of 'products' but male. The sorcerer had figured the tender hands of the three beauties would be more suitable in this case.

As their mistress' favorite, Fiel held some amount of authority over them, so he had left Rall in their care while he gathered the supplies he needed to cure his dying body. They had given the boy's body water, liquefied food mixed with medicinal herbs, and a comfortable place to rest. Still, the boy was currently experiencing a grave fever, one certainly caused by exhaustion and weakness. If it weren't for his Fairylight shining slightly brighter every day, they would have thought he was a lost cause.

On the third day, Rall's eyes opened. He felt his body heavy, his head aching more than he'd ever experienced before. He remembered feeling thirsty and hungry while in the Fog, but now he felt sated.

Then he saw his Fairylight. It was jade white and shone brighter than it ever did. His brows furrowed in confusion, and he forced his aching mind to recall Thodore's teachings in search of an answer. When he couldn't find anything, he sighed. There was so much he did not know. Still, he felt that his magical energy had increased tenfold, so the change hadn't come to bring him harm - probably.

He looked at his surroundings. Though he had never been in one, he recognized the inside of a carriage - a rather high-quality carriage since the seats were comfortable and the bumps on the road dampened. He also felt a very soft cushioning sensation under his head that made it harder to try and get up - so he didn't. From behind the curtains, he noticed that it was the middle of the night. The stars illuminated a deserted landscape that extended further than his eyes could see - he felt a sense of wonder mixed in with sorrow. Would he ever see the Alcian countryside again? His knowledge of cartography told him that he had somehow reached the Dead Plains, at least fifty miles north from Korn. None of the three moons were visible in the sky, so he understood that at least ten days had passed since he had entered the Fog, which startled him and made him check his calculations multiple times.

But his father had trained him well - Rall's awareness was spectacularly accurate.

He was not alone in the carriage. Two beautiful girls were sleeping on the opposite side of the carriage, keeping themselves warm in each other's arms. His gaze rose, and he saw that one other girl was looking at the stars. Then he realized. That comfortable cushioning feeling he had felt was that woman's naked thighs. His face instantly became red, and he tried getting up from the softness of that stranger's legs. Instead, his head made it up ten centimeters before his body gave in and fell back.

The girl was alerted, and their gazes met.

"You are finally awake," she whispered while caressing the boy's pale blonde hair, "don't try to move. Your body still needs time to recover."

He remained speechless, looking up between her two large mounds into her enchanting smile and a pair of eyes that shone golden against the stars.

"What is your name?" She asked, still whispering to avoid waking up her other two companions.

"R-Rall." His face was still red from embarrassment, which made him even cuter from the girl's perspective.

"Hello, Rall. My name is Serena. Those two sleepyheads are Maya and Sona. We have been taking care of you while you were asleep."

"T-Thank you. I don't know what to say." He said honestly.

"Don't worry about it. We are in the same boat anyway. We should help each other."

"The same boat?" He asked, confused.

"Tomorrow morning, you will see. For now, you should focus on sleeping and recovering. You have some time before we reach our destination." She said, hiding in her smile a hint of hesitation that escaped the boy's inexperienced eyes.

"Wait a second... why is a carriage passing through the Dead Plains? There is nothing in here." He asked. His aching mind was taking a lot longer than usual to connect the dots.

"As I said, wait and see. Don't worry. Light mages receive the highest of care."

Finally, he realized his Fairylight was out in the open, and he tried to hide it. "Mistress has seen it already, so hiding it won't help you. I am sorry. You might as well flounder it to get better treatment." Serena advised. He had never seen a light mage in her life, but she had heard the stories from other slaves. She had heard of another light mage who got captured by Lady Sharyah and tried to escape - he had gotten caught and his memories deleted and rewritten by a powerful dark artist. She did not want Rall to face the same treatment - he was too young for something so cruel.

The boy was confused, his headache was becoming harder to bear the more he tried to think, so in the end, he could only trust the girl with the beautiful smile. She didn't seem like she wanted to hurt him anyway. He freed his Fairylight again, then closed his eyes and fell back to sleep.

***

When he woke up, he found himself curled up on his side. The carriage was different, warmer, more luxurious. Golden embroidery decorated the inside, which one candle on each corner illuminated thoroughly. Opposite to him was a young man, seventeen or eighteen years old, with effeminate lineaments and soft skin. His firm expression contrasted strangely with his youthful appearance, giving him a peculiar sense of nobility.

Then, Rall noticed the thigh he was leaning on - it was different from Serena's, not as soft but just as welcoming. A woman in an elegant crimson dress and a black mask was looking over him, caressing his hair delicately like he was a doll in her hands.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

The sultry voice of Lady Sharyah invaded the boy's senses. "Good morning, little Rall."

He jumped up, his head still ached a little, but it was manageable. "Who are you."

"You can call me Sharyah. It is not a privilege I extend to many. He is Fiel, my right-hand man."

Rall looked at her crimson eyes and her alluring appearance, and he smelled the scent of roses and blood. His mind jumped to a certain lesson his father had given him in the past. "You are a demon, aren't you?" He asked the woman.

She was surprised at first - then she started laughing. "My boy! You become more interesting by the second." She paused and faked wiping a tear from her left eye. "Such a pity I cannot keep you."

He trembled at the thought. In his mind appeared the words from his father's letter.

[...] Light mages are always in high demand, and many look at them with envy, greed, or even hate, emotions that often lead men and women to commit unspeakable atrocities. [...]

"What am I doing here?" Rall was scared to ask since he felt like he knew the answer.

"Well, I found you in the middle of nowhere, on the brink of death. I saved your life, and now it's mine. Soon I will sell you to the highest bidder at the Opal Palace, and you will make me a lot of money." Sharyah answered nonchalantly.

Rall looked at the woman, then at the youth in front of her. He had to run.

He sent an impulse to his Fairylight, and a blinding light shone in the carriage, then he jumped on the door and threw himself out.

He ran for about ten meters when suddenly the ground around his feet rose to trap them and forcibly hold them down. The convoy stopped. Sharyah and Fiel got out of the first carriage and leisurely walked towards the boy.

Rall desperately struggled to free himself, but the rocky trap did not budge. Sharyah put a hand on his head, then turned it towards her and bent down so that their noses almost touched. "Tread carefully, Little Rall. Usually, I would break both your arms and legs for this little run of yours. But you are lucky - your value is high enough for me to want you in one piece. Instead, we will do this." She let his head go and moved back. As his face turned away, an unexpected punch clocked him right on his chin. Fiel had hit him hard enough to let it sting but not enough to knock him out. While his ears rang, a knee hit him violently in the stomach, forcing him to double over. Then, the sorcerer let the boy free from his trap just before hitting his side with a nasty front kick.

Rall fell to the ground in pain. He felt a retch from his stomach and the taste of iron of the blood trickling from his left cheekbone. One last kick in the chest left him struggling for breath - then Fiel stopped his assault and pulled back. Instead, the sound of Sharyah's heels clicked closer. "Soon, you will understand how fortunate you are. For now, remember this pain." She turned back to the carriage and spotted Serena peeking concerned from behind the curtains of the third carriage.

Fiel 'helped' Rall up and brought him back to the convoy. Once he sat down, Rall still felt his head wobbling and his body aching all over. It was the first punch he had ever received - well, to be more precise, it was the first beating of his life. For one thing, it made him even more respectful of people like Thork, who specialized in physical combat.

Sharyah's lips moved slyly to his ear, and she chanted a demonic incantation that sounded a lot like a lullaby. Soon, he lost consciousness and fell on her thighs once more.

She resumed caressing the side of his face with the look of someone who was partaking in a serious internal debate. "This boy sure has the looks. He would've fetched a high price even without his Fairylight. And I am sure teaching him how to please a woman would have been a great pleasure... alas, a woman has to know when it's right to pull out." She turned to her loyal sorcerer, who had his gaze lowered on his hands as he massaged his knuckles.

"Make sure he is clean and give him the best clothes that fit him. We will arrive at the Opal Palace in 2 days."

"Yes, Lady Sharyah!" Answered Fiel returning to his submissive posture.

Satisfied, she got out of the carriage to discipline one of the girls in the third.

***

In the lavish study of his villa, an aristocrat-looking elder was walking back and forth with energy uncharacteristic for his age. Hundreds of tomes about mythical beasts and mystical artifacts filled the numerous desks, while ancient maps of places know and unknown lined the walls. He was waiting for a specific piece of information, one that had costed quite the sum in bribes and favors.

He was a tall, skinny man, with long well-kept grey hair and a clean-shaven beard - a monocle sat on his right eye, the one that was yet to go blind. In his youth, he had been the dream of many ladies of the court, and now in his later years, he still retained the aura of confidence of one who had conquered life and maybe more. He was known as Conrad Alexander Delaux, former Admiral of the Borian Grand Fleet, a legendary figure famous for his many victories, known by many as the Lord of the Northern Sea. Legend told that he had once willingly braved the Fog to escape from an enemy ambush during the Second Great War of the North and that he had returned two months later on the back of a Sea Dragon, no traces left of his crew.

Soon, that man's restless wait was over. His butler announced his arrival by knocking on the open door of the large study, but he did not wait to receive permission to enter. He knew his employer well.

"So? What did he tell you?" The Admiral anxiously asked.

"He said that this year there are two confirmed light mages at auction. One is a thirteen-year-old female from the Great Desert of Karam, the other a fifty-five-year-old man who was 'liberated' from the prisons of the Alcian Inquisition. He did not say much about the color of their Fairylight, sir, so I assume they are golden like usual."

"DAMN IT!" Yelled Conrad, swiping the tomes down from one of the desks in a fit of rage. The butler kept his tranquil bearing and let the old Admiral vent his frustration.

Then, he resumed. "Please calm down, sir. Most of the card is still empty and even if there isn't another light mage, we still have that other method."

"It's not like we have any other choice, Hopp. I don't have much time left. It has to be this year." Conrad said, unable to hold a dry cough. He looked at the hand he had used to cover his mouth and saw a mix of mucus and blood. He took a deep breath, then reached for one of the desks where a golden walking stick was resting. "Prepare the carriage. We are going to the Opal Palace."

***

Since its foundation, the Golden Knives had made staggering progress through the ranks of mercenary groups. Guided by the strength of the Martial Master Don 'The Giant' Ghon, they had quickly expanded to half the nations in the Continent, building branch offices in almost forty cities. Still, the headquarters had always stayed in its original place in Kharia, the capital of the Borian Empire, where thirty years ago, the founding members had sworn together on an artifact known as the Golden Knives. It was an ancient object of Theorzean origins, composed of a set of ten beautiful golden knives. The legend told that when a person bled on one of the knives, the knife's color would change depending on their physical state.

A young brunette woman in white officer clothing hurriedly swung open the door to Don Ghon's training room. There, a massive three-meter tall man was flexing one of his enormous biceps, effortlessly lifting a two-hundred-kilogram kettlebell. His long brown hair fell on the tanned skin of his broad shoulders, some locks even reaching his mountainous pectoral muscles. Scars of many sizes lined his half-naked body - one particularly nasty one cut through his right eye, which had had to be reconstructed by a dark artist after getting carved out during a fight with a band of trolls.

"Boss! Something bad happened to Sarkar." Said the brunette in a hurry, "his knife has gone black, and now it's returning to its original state. I think he is dead."

Don dropped his kettlebell on the ground, leaving a large crater on the floor.

"What did you say?"

"Sarkar Benkor's knife, boss..."

"I see. He was out for a job, no? Which was it?" She knew he would ask. Sarkar was one of the founders of the Golden Knives, and Don considered each one of them part of his family. If something had happened to him, he would want to know everything about it. If someone had killed him, he would want to know whose skull he had to crush.

"He was leading an escorting mission through the Dead Plains with his pupils. The client is a slaver from the East named Lady Sharyah. Their destination is the Opal Palace." She recited from memory.

"Hmm. What do we know about this Sharyah?"

"She has participated every year in the annual auction at the Opal Palace, and every time she has hired a different group for protection. She seems to have contacts with the poachers of the Northern Tundra because she sells a new batch of Snow Elves every year. Other than that, her identity is a mystery."

Don didn't need to hear more. Half an hour later, he had gathered twenty strong men and was riding towards the southeast. From Kharia, it would take less than a day to reach the Opal Palace. Those who knew 'The Giant' were confident that whoever was involved with Sarkar's death would pay.