CHAPTER 3
SLAVE MERCHANTS
The beat of my heart became more rapid, the feeling of nausea also increased. Fighting against my panic, taking a deep breath, barely suppressing the urge to hurl, I once again decided to take a more thorough look at the surroundings. Slightly fidgeting with the rope tying my hands, the guard near the exit looked in my direction after noticing that I had woken up. He shot me a knowing look, before ignoring my existence completely. Minutes of fidgeting with the rope led to no progress.
No nails or sharp edges were near me to attempt to cut through it either. Losing hope, I settled down in an effort to begin processing my current situation. Before even beginning, the loud neighing of horses, along with a sudden tug, indicated that the wagon had come to a halt. Guards walked up to the wagon standing at the sides of the exit, while the guard in the wagon jumped out moving to stand off to the side. Standing in the middle of the guards was a fat middle-aged man. Figures it would be some short fucking fatty, the little prick probably beats off with the hand of a slave the sick fuck. He poked his head into the wagon taking short glances at each of us, before speaking into the ear of one of the guards then walking away.
Once the fat man dismissed himself, the guards began to untie the legs of individuals as they unloaded them from the wagon. Eventually, the guards grabbed the ropes tying my feet, dragging me towards the exit of the wagon before jumping off, roughly untying the rope. He reached over grabbing the rope, untying my hands pulling me to my feet, then points forward.
(Guard): “Move along with the others, don’t fuck around!”
Looking straight up, there was a line of broken-down people following a few guards. Beginning to follow inline, I could not help but stop in awe at the city around me. The streets littered with people as they looked at the wares scattered throughout the plaza. Fruit stalls, meat stalls, animal hides, you name it, this was not even comparable to those half-ass swap meets from where I am from, this is a full-blown bazaar, on some middle east shit.
(Guard):” What the fuck did I tell you!”
I jerk forward slightly as the guard motivated me to move forward with a nice shout, and sore shoulder to remember him by. Increasing my pace slightly, allowed me to catch up with the others after admiring the surroundings. We were brought into a large building where the guards began asking what skills we have. I thought about acting as if I had no useful skills, thinking that maybe it would lower my value as a slave and I could escape. Then again, I doubt they would just release me with a, “Hey, sorry about that bud. Thought you would make a wonderful slave. Good luck and have a good life.” Instead, giving my self-value seems like the best chance for survival as of right now.
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I racked my brain, digging around in my mind as hard as possible, hoping to find skills that might be useful in this Barbaric world. Wait… That’s it! Maybe I can sell myself as someone who is literate. Life would most definitely be a lot easier in a place like this with the modern education I have received.
(Guard):” Next!”
Shimmying forward damn near doing the Stanky Leg, I bring myself in front of the guard. He eyes me up and down, writing something down on a piece of parchment he had in his hand.
(Guard):” What are your skills in combat?”
Wait a second… weren’t they asking for skills we had in general? Fuck! I can’t believe it. The one saving grace that may have been available and now it’s gone. Would they even be able to understand me If I told them I had mixed martial arts training? If not, how… Does one even go about properly explaining combat abilities to people that lack knowledge of the style and concepts itself? Especially when I don’t even know what styles of combat they would know here. So far everything seems very medieval. I suppose… Downplaying the style and breaking it down into basic types they might understand, would be doable…Let’s try it.
(Ezra):” I am experienced in unarmed combat. Boxing for the standup game, wrestling for the ground game.”
That was the most straightforward way I can explain it, without explaining boxing and wrestling itself. Even if they have no knowledge of mixed martial arts, boxing and wrestling have been around forever…Right?
(Guard):” Hmmm… Excellent, you might do well for yourself then, yeah?”
Thankfully they seem to understand boxing and wrestling without going into too many details. They have been around for ages according to our history, but, who knows. Within this new society, I have found myself in, I don’t know enough to be making huge assumptions right now. Also, what he said at the end had me trying to decipher what he meant. Without giving me any downtime, another guard pushed me forward, leading through a hallway. Turning the corner at the end of the hallway brought us to a corridor. We walked practically to the end, before stopping at the very last door. He opens the door shoving me inside before closing it as he exits. Inside the room, a rat scurried across the cold wooden floor, leaving a high pitched squeak as it disappeared into the corner of the room. Looking up, the room itself gave me the impressions of a single-man cell, like in one of those television shows about prison. My bed was nothing more than a bit of hay, laid out with a thin itchy looking blanket, sadly… there was no pillow. To be fair, it’s a bit unrealistic to think they would give one anyways. Being a slave isn’t necessarily a dream career.
As for the bathroom situation… Surprisingly enough, they had plumbing in this world. I would have fucking lost it if these fucks tried to get me to go in some fucking mop bucket. It was very shocking to see. Maybe this world has more to it than I believed. Up to this point, I had only seen it as some medieval nightmare, and I sure as shit am not wrong about that, but, at least it ain’t a, hey, I have to shit in a hole and wipe my ass with my hand kinda bad. Now let us just hope they have soap in upside downland, and yuh boy might survive it here after all. Having made my way to the bed laying down, left alone to my own thoughts, may have given me a bit of time needed to reflect. In a situation such as this, one could not help but run the events that have happened on repeat, worrying about what is to come. Mentally a distinction of whether I’m in a dream, asleep in the library, or if this is real, has yet to be made. Although the slight pain in my shoulder from where the guard pushed me earlier, had it leaning more towards the, “it is real, and I’m fucked” side of the scale.
Eventually, I gave up thinking about it. There was no choice but to come to terms with reality. As bullshit as it sounds, I was brought to a different world. Sitting around, constantly acting like a scared puppy is not going to make anything better. Since I am still tired, it would be a good idea to rest while I have downtime. After my rest, I just gotta face my fears and do what needs to be done, hopefully finding a way back home in the process.