Chapter Forty-Eight

Brotus looked with silent awe at the great white city in front of his eyes, between the splendor of the great lake and the city itself, it was a picture of true paradise. This opinion changed not even a little when they began to unload the barge. The elven slaves were quite well fed and worked with surprising swiftness ensuring all the tamped down and secured materials were loaded back on to the wagons before reboarding a wagon of their own or sitting in the coachman’s position and driving the wagons down onto the dock itself.

Surrounded by the cacophony of travelers as they hit the main road leading toward the city itself, Brotus’s mind was already at work, specifically he was studying the people around his entourage. Men and women on horseback in fine armor or rich, brightly colored silks were plentiful. Carriages were polished to a bright shine in every color save for purple, while gold glittered from ten thousand fingers and ears, not to mention other bright jewels that sparkled in the early light of the day.

Coins danced behind Brotus’s eyes as he tried to imagine what it would be like to be a merchant in this place. ‘I could have women like that one… what was that one’s name?’ He couldn’t recall, though he remembered the feel of her warm, inviting folds, her heaving breasts, and her soft lips. ‘Whatever her name was, it doesn’t matter, she was just an elf whore. All that really matters is that, if I were a merchant here, I’m sure I could afford to have one of them every single night!’

He could feel his manhood stirring at the thought, and such was the delightful distraction that he almost lost sight of the world around him. Dreams caught him in their enticing snare, the thought of shiny, clinky coin, the noise he’d heard in the chest he’d handled for his master… all of it coming to him. ‘He has no heir, there’s no reason I couldn’t take over for him if it came to it.’

There was a delightful thought, an already finished and established enterprise just dropping into his lap in a heartbeat. ‘Of course, for that to happen I would have to prove myself more than just a worthy apprentice in his enterprise, I have to make a fortune myself. I have to make sure he sees my worth. And if I do? If…I…do…’ The memory of the night’s carnal bliss on his master’s coin was like a shining beacon in the darkness guiding him forward.

‘And all those others, those fools who quit… well, I am a generous man. I can hire them to work in my warehouse one day, out of fondness for the times we had together. They’ll be grateful for that, I’m sure.’ He thought and indulged himself in another fantastical thought, all those who were once his competitors, bowing low and asking, “Please, give us work, Brotus.” From there came another thought, all those who looked down on him in the past, forced to look up at him as he rode past in a gilded carriage and no longer even saw them. ‘All that. All that will be mine, and more one day. One day soon.’ He vowed and with that resolve in his mind he turned his attention back to the real world around him.

He took note of the style of jewelry worn by wealthy women, not to mention the style of clothing. He took note of the way the pure white horses were gilded in dark leather with little golden spirals, similar to the fashionable designs on women’s clothing, indicating a common trend.

Where he saw people on foot, commoners, and tradesmen, he saw that black was the preferred color with pants and shirts being much the same, and this made them appear dressed cleaner than they actually were.

The shops themselves were comprised mainly of wood, save for those that required stone or which were near it, such as blacksmith shops where embers were lit and the sound of hammers rang out, or apothecary shops where the smell of chemicals filled the air, some of which he knew were potentially flammable.

Beyond that, they were wood, but each shop’s walls were polished clean.

Behind him, Brotus heard the faint sound of crying begin, and looked over his shoulder to see the elves clinging to one another, clustering in a group and squeezing their eyes shut tight.

The why was evident a moment later when a scream went up after the sound of a loud ‘crack.’

________________________________________

Ahmarantha whimpered when he heard the crack, and whether he intended to or not, wanted to or not, the only place he could think to turn to was…away, and that carried his eyes up toward the oversized lump of flesh that was Corwin Amber. To his great surprise, the human flinched at the sound of the scream.

And at the sound of the second scream.

And at the sound of the third scream. His lips were trembling, moving to form what might have been words, but no words came out, at least not loud enough for even Ahmarantha’s clipped ears to hear.

Not at first.

“Ahmarantha, can you take the reins?” Corwin finally asked.

“Master? Ah… uncle?” He asked as the trembling fat hands of the middle-aged human held the leather straps out over the young elf’s lap.

“Gods forgive me… I am such a pathetic coward.” He whispered in a tiny voice as the scream went up even louder than before despite the distance they put between the source that was never in sight in the first place.

“Yes… if I know where I’m going.” Ahmarantha answered and when the leather straps dropped from nerveless, shaking hands he caught them reflexively.

“Straight ahead, my uncle always meets me at the first square, he has a shop there. Stop outside the place with the crop-eared collar… And do yourself a favor, shut your eyes and cover your ears as soon as you can.”

‘My master is a very strange man…’ Ahmarantha thought to himself and drove on, the hubbub of the city was nothing new… but even so?

The whole atmosphere felt off. Goosebumps rose on his sensitive tan skin, his entire body felt heavier, as if a hundred beast furs were piled atop his body and weighing him down, suffocating him and leaving him enshrouded in darkness despite it being broad daylight.

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Like some thick miasma of evil, swamp like and almost impossible to escape, surrounded his whole body.

All he could do however, was carry on. It was a relief, in a way, to see that his master felt the same. For all the old man’s talk of a better life, the promise of getting him home, even speaking up to Speranzi, monster that she seemed to be… all of that was like nothing in Ahmarantha’s mind compared to one simple fact.

That Corwin clearly felt the same sense of dread and disgust amidst the pristine jewel of a city that Ahmarantha felt for himself.

‘A genuinely good human? Is that even possible?’ He wondered, there were certainly in the elf boy’s view, humans that were worse or better than others. But in all his life he couldn’t recall even one he would have called ‘good.’

Some were kindly spoken, a few… his mouth filled with saliva as he recalled the little treats he’d been given when he did his duty well. Others had been gross, or cruel, or even lecherous, even if they wouldn’t have risked acting on it toward a servant of a luxurious inn.

But nonetheless the elf boy could think of no human that he could say had a soul worthy of the divine favor they all claimed to have.

‘None of them would have felt as I do.’ He thought with a growing sense of wonder as the first stirring embers of trust began to stir in his breast. ‘I’ll watch him closer… let’s see what kind of man he really is…’ Ahmarantha promised himself as they entered the square where a great fountain sent water shooting high up into the sky to splash down so quickly in all four directions that it was more like a waterfall in the air than a mere common fountain.

He scanned the area and saw the oddity Corwin described, it was a golden sign shaped like the head of an elf with eyes downcast, the shape curving down to form a neck, and an iron collar painted there at the base.

Sweat sprang to his palms as he drew closer, there was a steady noise of metal striking metal just out of view, it was a familiar noise, though one he hadn’t heard in many years.

As soon as he could stop the wagon he drove, Ahmarantha shut his eyes and closed off the world to wait for the nightmare to pass, it was after all, the only thing he could do.

________________________________________

“Nephew!” A loud voice went up, and Corwin raised his head to see the old bastard looking disgustingly healthy despite being somewhat overfed. Corwin’s uncle was clad in scarlet clothing with golden spirals woven throughout, he had a thick beard that was snow white with only traces of the former black. His steel-colored eyes were still as sharp as an eagle’s, and he was on his feet as fast as a man half his age.

Corwin focused his eyes on the hated old man, largely to avoid seeing what was at his back. Namely, two elven slaves in servant clothing, they were wincing each time the hammer struck within the building. They were reasonably well fed, one male, one female, their close similarities suggested a familial relationship. Perhaps twins. Both of them had shoulder length golden hair, and their servant clothing was comprised of nothing but a crude long white sack with a great yellow angled cross shape across the front that Corwin knew without looking was also on the back. They also wore tight leather belts around their waists with various pouches to carry small items, quill and ink, papers, and other small items.

Their ears were cut short, but the blood remains, suggesting the cutting had been done very recently, perhaps hours or even minutes before. Their iron collars were thick and marked with the name of the shop of Corwin’s uncle. Amberose.

With those collars on, the house where they were affixed would always be easily identified, along with the official registration of their owners, similarly, the shop would file all records with the city on an annual basis, who brought them in, who was their registered owner, how much they were purchased for, along with all their identifying features, marks, and so on, up to and including any significant disciplinary material.

In this way, Corwin’s uncle, and those like him, played a vital role in ensuring the smooth transition of ownership, inheritance, and the return of any runaways for punishment… and also, by paying a portion of the revenue to the city and paying for the license to run this shop, keeping the overhead costs low.

Merchants like him thus played a vital role in the influence and control in the trade of elven slaves.

And Corwin loathed the old man for it.

The hammering within would be others brought to the shop for collaring and registration after being sold at auction by another link in the chain of bondage and misery, the licensed slave traders who operated outside the city.

While in theory they could have also handled registration and collaring and other matters, Corwin knew that the rulers of Wenmark were a canny lot and would not put too much power in any one important group, and they depended too much on the flesh trade to risk making any one part of it overly influential. Thus, they divided everything, and thus, they ruled absolutely and without question for centuries.

Corwin descended from the wagon with agonizing slowness, grunting more than he really needed to as he dreaded even touching the white stone road with his booted feet.

“Uncle Amberose. You look well.” Corwin tried to keep the stiffness from his voice, but he was not entirely successful, and the old man clucked his tongue reprovingly.

“Tut-tut, my boy, you’re still entirely too stiff. Still soft, still weak, it’s amazing you’ve lasted long enough to get this rich. You know, if you’d just get over your silly nonsense, you could have retired a decade ago and settled down somewhere.”

“No thank you, uncle.” Corwin replied, “Not this again, you know I won’t change. You were saying you were too old to change when you were the age I am now, why would you expect me to?”

The old man cocked his head, “Did I? Well, I was so young then…” He chuckled, but Corwin did not.

Nonplussed by his nephew’s lackluster response, he looked to the line of wagons, and when he saw the collared elven workers he whistled, “Quite a haul there, did you grow out of your silly phase after all? And the young male, he’s a fine-looking specimen, he looks at home up there on the wagon. You bought a trained driver? You should let me inspect-” Amberose made to step past Corwin, but the fat hand of the middle-aged merchant came up reflexively.

“No, uncle, don’t touch him. It’s not like that… not at all.” Corwin said, and Amberose looked down at the hand on his chest, he hesitated while still in mid-step, seemingly considering what to do.

“Your loss, my boy.” It was an ugly laugh that came out of the old man’s mouth next, but he did step back a pace, and a wicked smile formed on the old man’s face before he snapped his fingers and the elven woman at his back yanked her gaze up from the white stone road. “Thing. The reservation. Quickly.”

“Master!” She squeaked out and rushed forward, her hand thrusting into the leather pouch at her side, she went to her knees as soon as she was in front of Corwin and bowing her head, she held up a gold embroidered letter written not on paper, but on cloth.

“The Golden Roan’s most expensive rooms, yours for a month, you, your apprentices, and your most important guests. Your soldiers will be afforded the communal areas used for bodyguards and military officers. Still better than any barracks, with all the comforts that come with them.” His ugly chuckle made Corwin’s skin crawl with revulsion, but he accepted the reservation in a sweaty palm without complaint.

“Then we’ll be on our way.” He said, stiff as a board again and backing away from the kneeling elf like she was a coiled serpent ready to strike.

“You’re not going to stay and chat, join me for dinner, it’s been over a year.” Amberose’s words might have been sweet, but they were filled with mockery as revealed by the taunting smile on his face. “Just try one, and you’ll never doubt the gifts of the gods again.” He said to his nephew, and Corwin did not respond to him further.

“Drive, Ahmarantha, I’ll direct you. I know the way.” He said with sickness already roiling in his gut at his surroundings.

The crack of the leather reins caused Corwin to instantly flinch, and then the wagons rolled on.