After the fear died down, Soral was oddly bored in his cell. There was nothing to do, nothing to see, and even the slightest hint of magic was heavily punished by the stupid collar. The lonely darkness was all too familiar, as was the feeling of helplessness.
Oddly enough, this situation didn’t feel as dire as back then. Perhaps he had just become detached, or maybe he had some small faith in Ruena and her benefactor being able to do something about it. Either way, rather than being concerned about his health and welfare, Soral felt his inner defiance bubbling to the surface.
Before any great acts of defiance could come to fruition, however, Soral needed to think about some things. First and foremost being the confidence that man held that he was not human. It had been unsettling to think about at first, but as he thought, things started to make more sense.
The way he never felt full no matter how much he ate, for instance. The way sleep felt like more of a chore than rest or relief. Even the way magic came so naturally to him. As soon as he had an idea, he could execute it. The problem thus far had been that in moments of need, no ideas came to mind. He would have to change that.
Finding out exactly what kind of not-human he was could wait. Next he thought about Jazz. They had mentioned it a couple times, calling him a kitica. He wasn’t really sure what that was, but if they were after it, it was probably important and rare. The Belleas Guild had wanted the shell, too.
Soral couldn’t think of anything else in particular about things he learned, so he turned his attention to defiance. Magic was out, unless he could figure out some way to circumvent the collar. Making noise would probably end with him being similarly punished. Besides, he didn’t want something small that could be squashed in an instant. He wanted to shake his captors.
Unfortunately, before he got the chance to formulate any sort of plan, the man from earlier returned. He seemed to have taken a special interest in Soral. Soral decided to take a special interest in doing the opposite of whatever he wanted.
“I failed to greet you in my earlier negotiation,” the man said, suddenly treating him as a person, rather than merchandise. Suspicious. Very suspicious. “My name is Gero. Welcome to the most marvelous slave trade ever to exist. All thanks to my lovely device you currently wear around your neck.”
Soral’s hand moved to touch it on instinct once it was mentioned. He had felt the thing over plenty while he had been alone. He couldn’t even find a crack or crevice, much less any way to release it.
“You see, I did what everyone said could not be done and combined magic with technology,” the man, Gero, continued, “I noticed something special about you earlier. You naturally give off a powerful magical energy that would serve well to charge my devices. If you agree you can be spared from being sold.”
An offer that he wasn’t supposed to refuse, certainly. Not that Soral had any intention of accepting. Create these disgusting collars? Not a chance! It would be much more fun to find some way to overload them and watch them fall to pieces.
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A few sparks flew as Soral thought this. No way, was it actually possible? Part of him cautioned that he should wait until he was alone so he could use the chance to escape. A much larger part of him wanted to see the expression on Gero’s face when Soral’s collar fell off his neck.
And so he did. More sparks flew and a loud snap sounded through the cage before the collar fell to the ground with a clatter.
Gero watched the collar fall, his face contorting just as Soral had desired. First, shock, then anger, then a maddened smile full of cruel curiosity. “Is this your answer, boy? I should warn you, defiance will place you in a spotlight no one wishes for.”
“I have a lot of things no one wishes for,” Soral replied without hesitation, “Do your worst, old man.”
Gero wasn’t really old. Middle aged at best, but Soral had heard insulting people’s age was a low blow, and this guy deserved every low blow there was.
“How childish,” Gero scoffed, “but I suppose you are still quite young.”
He pulled out another collar and fearlessly opened the cage. Unlike the simple silver collar Soral had destroyed, this one was golden, and Soral could feel the familiar hum of crystilium that the other had definitely lacked.
“What is that?” he demanded, backing away out of instinct.
“A special collar I designed for people like you,” Gero replied with a smirk, “It is far too expensive to be used for the every day product, but you are a special case. I can even use this incident to further advertise your worth.”
That sounded unpleasant in many ways. Soral decided it was best for him to run for it before that thing made it to his neck. He opened a portal to the most distant place he could imagine, or he tried to. Nothing happened. His momentary pause of surprise was all Gero needed to snap the collar around his neck.
“Do you like my magic nullification cages?” he asked, “Any magic that is activated within these bars is absorbed and added to the cage’s strength. I wish I could claim this invention, but it belongs to a good friend of mine.”
A good friend? That definitely sounded like someone Soral wanted to avoid. The new collar felt heavy on his neck, leaving him wishing he had tried to dodge and run instead. It sounded like he would be able to use magic so long as he left the cage.
Gero ignored his silence and gave him a parting warning as he left and locked the cage. “The auction begins in a few hours. I hope you are ready.”
==========
Sibel Toll had also gone on a trip when Soral left for Sycamore. He returned to the City State of Belleas where the Toll family resided to share what he had found. Upon his return he presented the new magic mag he had crafted from Soral’s idea, and presented it to the current heads, his mother and father.
“A new bag?” his mother asked, slipping effortlessly into her human form to examine it, “This one is much different from your old one.”
“It is,” Sibel agreed, “I didn’t invent this one. That is why I came here today. I wish to take the boy who created this as my apprentice.”
“Will he be taking the oath?” his father asked, remaining in his relaxed position in dragon form, “Or do you intend to have him form a guild unaffiliated with us?”
“I will leave that for him to decide,” Sibel replied, “He is not a dragon so he cannot become a Toll.”
“Such an old fashioned rule,” his mother complained, “What is he then? Does he at least have wings?”
“I’m not sure,” Sibel admitted, “I can tell you many things he isn’t, but I have never seen any being like him before.”
“Perhaps the first or last of his kind,” his father suggested, “I would be interested in meeting a creature like that.”
“If my offer goes well I will introduce him to you,” Sibel promised, elated.
There was a knock on the door and a trained Belleas Messenger came in. That meant the news was urgent. “I was informed all urgent news involving Soral Voila was to be immediately reported to Master Sibel,” the messenger began, “Soral has been kidnapped. We suspect Gero’s slave trade.”