"Move away, mutt!" the front guard yelled, roughly shoving away the frail looking boy with the hilted edge of his scabbard. The boy flew backwards, two metres or so, and landed harshly on the rocky terrain, his left wrist shouldering the full impact of the fall. Countless villagers backed away at the guard's action, making way for the procession. 

Martial arts, the boy thought as he glanced at the weird angle his wrist was bended in. Pain soared through his body and the boy hissed in pain, clicking his tongue together to prevent the sound from leaving his lips. Tears welled up in his eyes but he forced it down. He slowly stood up, supporting himself on his other hand, and glanced around searching for the basket of herbs he had been tasked to sell. The herbs had been scattered across the dirt and gravel but some of them were still in good condition. The boy heaved a sigh as he scanned the herbs and realized that only four of the herbs had been completely damaged. He would only be whipped ten times now. 

The boy glanced back up at the procession of guards as they shielded a carriage that passed. The number of guards marching through the possession were enormous, so much that the boy was sure that the person inside the carriage was someone of very high calibre. The sound of the procession had been evident since morning and only now had the villagers gotten a glimpse of the actual scene.The boy shook his head, clearing away his vision. Surely, he thought, the man wouldn't be interested in buying herbs from him. The boy's only concern now was to sell the herbs. For selling a basket of herbs, he would be paid with a single copper coin, enough to buy himself a single piece of bread which he rationed for the whole day by dividing it into multiple portions. 

The war had ended two years ago, but the borders of the kingdom were still heavily hit with famine as the amount of refugees who piled up into the country increased. The capital had made no arrangements for them, and they were treated like slaves, captured and sold off. The boy, a refugee himself, was even thankful that he had been able to live without catching much attention. 

As the procession left the street, the street bloomed with life once again, the people coming back and flooding the narrow passages whilst they opened stalls and traded. The boy hastily picked up the remains of the herbs and placed them disorderly in the basket as he tried to get a move on and blend in amongst the overwhelming crowd of villagers. 

Every now and then, he would pause and scan the crowd, trying to catch sight of a potential customer who would be willing to buy from him. Selling without a license was punishable by the law of the kingdom, but the boy's master had no qualms in breaking the law and the boy knew it would be his bones his master would be breaking if he wasn't careful enough and ended up getting caught. So he cautiously treaded, trying to use his small size, drooping shoulders and his hair long enough to cover the ends of his eyes to his advantage. 

Suddenly, the crowd parted and the villagers scurried off to the sides of the street, making way for a horse riding troop led by a large man who sat atop a white stallion. The gold and jewels that adorned his neck proved the amount of wealth and power the man wielded. The boy followed the villagers and blended within their tall shadows. The villagers were all whispering to each other, their eyes following the movements of the troop as they came to a stop in the middle of the street. It was usually uncommon for people to pass through the village, but today not only one but two troops had passed. No one knew or understood what was happening. 

The troop leader yanked the reins of the horse and leaped off it onto the ground. The villagers shuffled back a couple of steps as the sound of his metal armor clanked loudly as he landed on the ground. He made his way to the first shop in his line of sight and the boy watched with his eyes wide as he tried to understand who the man was. The man pulled out a seal from his pocket and showcased it to the shopkeeper. The shopkeeper's face immediately paled a couple of degrees and he quietly pulled out a sack of silver coins and handed it over to the man.

The boy was now very curious. Who was this man? The boy tried a desperate attempt to take a good look at the seal the man had taken out and made a failing attempt to stand on his tip toes. He stumbled and rammed into a back of a huge man in front of him, dropping the basket onto the ground yet again watching as it thudded on the floor. The huge man turned around and glared at him furiously, spitting out words of contempt, "What ya think ya doin' ya filthy bugger?" he growled. His voice cut through the silence the village was engulfed in after the appearance of the strange troop and the troop leader glanced over the crowd and at them. 

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

The boy dropped his gaze to the ground, frozen solid as his fingers trembled in fear. The troop leader pocketed the sack of gold and approached him. He stopped a metre away from him.

"Whose herbs are these?" he boomed.

The villagers shuffled backwards yet again, their eyes boring holes into the boy's body, giving him away. The man shifted his attention to the boy and took a step forward.

"Are these yours?" he asked.

The boy fiddled with the tattered edges of his worn out shirt and continued to glance down, refusing to look up. The man clicked his tongue with annoyance and grabbed the boy by his neck, lifting him up and off the ground. 

"Answer me, lad."

The boy wrapped his own hands around the man's fingers which were still wound around his throat, trying his best to pry them off. But it was all in vain. All the boy could do was manage to shake a nod in the affirmative.

"You're sellin' these, right?" the man asked.

Again, the boy nodded. The man's lips twitched and he smirked, dropping the boy back onto the ground harshly. The boy scrammed to his feet, furrowing his brows in confusion as the man looked at him expectantly. 

"Well?" the man urged, "Show me your license lad."

The boy's eyes widened to the circumference of saucers and realization dawned on him about the whereabouts of the man. His master was going to skin him alive. The boy took a slow step backwards, his body shaking with fear. The man lifted him once again by the neck and ran his hands through the boys clothes rummaging through him.

"As I thought," he mumbled triumphantly, "You ain't got a license." 

The boy's face was starting to change color into a light shade of reddish purple at the tight grip the man had on him. 

"Who's the man who supplied these herbs to you?" he asked. His master's angry face flashed into the boy's eyes. He swallowed heavily. The man tightened his grip and repeated the question. The boy stayed silent. He knew his master would be captured and punished if he decided to reveal his identity. Besides, the punishment for trading without a license was fifty lashes and the boy was sure the magistrate would lower down the number to thirty because of his young age. Only a couple of lashes, the boy thought, I can handle it.

The man smirked almost as though he could read the boy. "Looks like you ain't going to answer," he said, gazing at the boy thoughtfully. The man turned and called out to his men. 

"Boys, tie him up!" he ordered them, his eyes glistening against the bright sun as he gazed at the ropes that were being tied around the boy's ankles and broken wrist. The troop threw the boy over a horse like a sack of potatoes and he was held in place there by one of the troop members.

"We'll be back tomorrow to collect the rest of the taxes," the troop leader said, before mounting his horse and pulling the reins. Soon, the troop set off from the village, taking the poor boy with them. 

They boy glanced around anxiously as he noticed the way the troop entered the enchanted woods near the village. He was illiterate and uneducated but he knew enough to conclude that they were not going in the direction of the District Magistrate's Hall. The troop slowed to a stop as they reached a tall, weird looking tree in the borders of the forest. No one dared cross the twenty-five kilometre boundary of the forest, any human who entered never returned and the very few ones who did had been driven too the brink of madness after losing their sanity.

The troop leader signalled to one of the members of the troop and watched as he carried the boy off the horse and moved him against the tree. The leader nodded at the members and pulled out a huge trumpet and blew into it. 

The boy watched with confusion as no sound came out of the device. Suddenly the leaves of the tree under which he was perched rustled violently and fiesty gusts of wind blew past him. A sudden flash of white razed through the scene and a stout, funny looking man appeared out of thin air. He stared at the troop and then at the boy. 

"He looks weak," the stout man said, gesturing to the boy.

The troop leader spoke," Despite his appearance, the boy is quite obedient. He will be good to work after a meal or two."

The stout man stepped forward and jerked the boy's chin upward with force, analysing him. He nodded slowly and turned towards the troop leader. He said, "I'll buy him for twenty pieces of silver."

The troop leader's face scrunched in protest. "But..."

The stout man stood his ground, a hard look appearing on his face. "Twenty or none," he stated firmly.

The troop leader pondered for about a minute before nodding his head in agreement. "Fine, you can have him for twenty silvers."

The stout man pulled out a sack similar to the one the shopkeeper had taken out earlier and threw it at the troop leader. He then turned back towards the boy, bringing his face dangerously close for the boy's liking.

"Looks like you're mine now."