“Hey! Are you there?” a mature male voice addressed the recent arrival.
Words.
“Elf! We are talking to you! Are you here with us?” questioned a female voice.
“This new elf you bought... they ripped you off, dear,” said the Lord of the House to his wife.
A strange language.
“They did... didn’t they?”
“Eh? What?” The elf managed to gather his thoughts.
“'What?' You say, ‘Yes, my Lord’, ‘No, my Lord’, ‘What do you need, my Lord’?” stated the well-dressed man, master of this House, without losing his composure. Glancing at his wife, he continued, “New slaves are always a pain to train. However, you need to learn fast or be wary of the consequences.”
“Go, go now. Help in the kitchen or somewhere useful,” the Lady ordered. “And return to us with the correct attitude.”
A small humanoid dressed as a butler approached him. With white hair and wrinkled skin, the recently transposed being initially mistook the creature for a human midget. However, his eyes, too big for his small and slightly malformed face, told him otherwise.
“Come,” spoke the strange creature.
“Uh... Who...?”
Yet I understand them. My head’s fuzzy... Is this a dream?
The Lady of the House, a woman in her thirties with above-average looks, gazed at her husband. She recognized the look on his face, a serious expression, his eyes studying their recent purchase, trying to find the reason why his wife insisted on buying him.
The Lord turned his head. “Oh, my dear wife, you and your soft heart. You saw a weak elf and couldn’t resist.”
“You know me.”
“Let’s just hope it’s not a total waste of resources.”
The small sentient creature roughly pulled the elf into the kitchen, his face contorting with frustration. However, the elf’s indifference only increased his exasperation.
My hands I can see them! I can touch my body!
“Hey, elf!”
“Hmm?”
“What the hell are you doing! Step it up or the masters are going to be very thorough with you and then with me!”
The strange humanoid creature standing before the elf made no sense, nothing did. He remembered his capture, then a dim-lit room in the middle of the jungle, a rusty knife peeling his skin. A dream where he died several times over. And those voices, cowards hiding in the mist.
What a nightmare.
“Serve them well, be a good slave, and you might live in peace for a long time.”
Silence answered the small humanoid.
“Slave?” inquired the humanoid, trying to reach to a mind he wasn’t certain was still there.
“What?” replied the elf, still reeling from suddenly inhabiting a new body.
“Why do I always get the slow-witted ones! Ferrallia save me!”
“I... I....”
“What?!”
“I feel like puking!”
“Oh, my Wise Gods! Use the servants’ bathroom.”
The elf stood still, his thoughts scattered and his frail body resenting the transposition.
“Don’t stand there! Down this hall, second door to the left!” the small humanoid shouted.
The elf rushed off to find a quiet place to gather his thoughts and his stomach contents.
God, my head’s about to explode! And my chest burns. My body... it’s different.
Following the small creature’s directions, he found the bathroom. Though designated for servants, it was elegant and luxurious with a marble sink and a deep ocher-colored toilet. A faint cinnamon smell tickled his nostrils, but he had no time to contemplate, nor did he care. The contents of his stomach threatened to come out.
“Blargh!”
He bent over and heaved, spewing a green and viscous liquid into the sink.
“Blaaargh!”
He tried to calm himself down.
“Fuck—! Ah!”
With a stabbing pain in his gut, he stumbled. Forced to bend forward, he barely avoided colliding with the grand mirror in front of him. Grasping the sink with both hands, he held on until the agony ebbed away.
Don’t tell me... those...
He looked up.
“A mirror!”
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
His situation abruptly changed from a crazy fantasy to a tangible reality. In the reflection, a tall and slender humanoid with long, pointy ears and a sickly complexion stared back at him. He flinched at the face partially covered by a cloth mesh. Lastly, a glowing green collar encircled his neck, a mysterious device of some sort.
Is this what I’m supposed to look like now? Seems quite similar to a human. Not bad. But the other half of my face...
He saw no straps on the cloth covering his face and simply pulled it away. Not a single word nor lament would help him. What those gods did, fair or not, was engraved on his cursed face. With no more than a gentle push, the cloth reattached to his face.
“Those motherfuck—!”
The sharp pain returned, causing him to double over in agony.
“Ah! This pain again! Argh! You, you... demon-gods!”
This pain... a curse. I need to calm myself. Think. I’m alive; that's what matters. The midget dressed as a butler said I was a slave. Without a doubt, the work of those demon-gods. And why does my body feel so weak? Was being alive this exhausting?
[Weak, ugly, and tainted. What a fitting end to your bloody career.]
A second reflection appeared behind him in the mirror, a familiar face.
“Oh, you’re still here.”
[I never left.]
A voice came from the hallway, belonging to the small sentient creature. “Don’t slack off, elf. Whatever is it that you have, you’ll have to hold it until our duties are complete!”
You little piece of s—
He doubted.
Shit!
No more.
“Argh!” The sound of pain echoed down the hall.
“Or take more time, but not too much!” yelled the small humanoid.
It triggers even by thinking about it!?
Trusting the humanoid’s word, he took his time enduring excruciating pain. After the curse ran its course, he splashed himself with fresh water from a fountain-like piece of furniture. He stepped out of the bathroom, determined on returning to the dining room. His mind changed gears, and the time to gather information and plan his next move closed in fast.
If everything that those demon-gods said ends being true, then they put me in deep trouble. Troubled in a new world, yet alive. What a thought!
Regardless of his situation, he needed more information to grasp the full picture of his peculiar circumstance and talking to people had given him good results in the past.
“Lords of House Liame, your slaves are here.” The small humanoid glanced at the Lord’s newest purchase. “This elf was just feeling unwell, but everything is back in order. Isn’t it, elf-slave?”
The elf didn't respond, instead, he simply nodded as he felt an urge to violence rise.
“As long as you know your duties and fulfill them, I think you will have no troubles in this House,” the Lord continued speaking to a restless mind. “We bought you this morning, and we expect much from you, slave. We are not fanatically intolerant like many in this city. We think the inferior... lifeforms, like you putrajados, can be of some use, and we treat you accordingly. That’s why you are here. Show some potential, as low as it is.”
“And gratefulness,” the Lady chimed in.
“Oh, of course dear. As my wife wisely points out, it is by our mercifulness you are fed and have a roof where to lay and rest.”
“But this one looks so weak. The merchants told us this elf-slave can’t even use magic. Imagine, an elf without magic! And with such a fragile body... Wasn’t it really a waste of money?” spoke the Lord’s daughter, a boisterous young human girl with fair skin and blond hair. She smirked at the elf-slave.
“Let’s hope not. Or we’ll have to dispose of it,” warned the Lord.
What a nice fu-freaking family!
The elf anticipated the intense pain, but it never came. Had he found the demon-gods' swearing-curse limits? He briefly pondered.
[More than we deserve.]
That illusion walked freely among the family gathered round the dining table.
We...?
He paid it no more mind and returned to the matter at hand.
Ya’ll better thread carefully, or I’ll knife your necks while you sleep.
[Going back to the old ways, I see.]
Can’t say I missed you.
[Same here.]
“H-he still deserves a chance!” spoke up the youngest member of the House in defense of the elf, a frail and pale boy with a dull haircut and pitch-black hair.
This boy’s too short for his age, and he’s sick too. An affliction? Congenital disease? Could it be the curses of the demon-gods? Or simple bad luck? Might be the same thing.
“Aw... my son. Yes, he does,” the Lady humored the boy.
“Dad, are we going today? You promised!” asked the young girl.
“I did. And I keep my promises.” The Lord smiled at his daughter.
“Yay!”
“Head Slave-Butler Gnome, we are going out, make the usual arrangements. Don't forget to bring this elf too, the slave needs to start learning his duties.” The Lord glared at the elf. “And give the slave something to eat, he looks like he’s dying already.”
The gnome, serving as the Head Slave-Butler, oversaw all the non-humans in this House. The humans considered them, the non-humans, as lesser beings than pets, free manual labor, creatures they bought and sold to fulfill whatever roll they assigned them. Slavery thrived in Saint Jaulea, a city renowned for its slave market, where almost every House had a group of non-humans under their grasp at any given time. The slaves in this city suffered a life worse than that of livestock, and many did not survive more than a few years. However, House Liame and a few other Houses broke from this convention and treated their slaves less harshly. This House's workforce consisted of ten servants, including four humans who were paid wages and lived in their own homes, and six slaves, consisting of one gnome, two elves, two feralis, and a half-orc. It was a decent entourage for such a well-established House.
After readying the carriage, the gnome summoned the slaves and forced the recently acquired slave-elf to change into suitable attire. He then informed the elf of his duties while accompanying members of House Liame. These included carrying items, adapting to any changes in plans, assisting with navigating steps or carriages, remaining inconspicuous when not needed, and most importantly, observing and reporting the reactions of other Houses to their presence. Any signs of aggression, admiration, indifference, or any other noteworthy details were to be noted and reported back to House Liame upon their return.
What a load of bulls-
The elf left that thought unfinished. Better safe than sorry. The idea of axing their heads filled his mind, but he understood that to beat the demon-gods’ curses and this peculiar family, he had to play the calm, long game.
I need to cut loose or cut them loose fast. And this world... it seems less advanced, but they say magic exists, whatever that ends up being. And the other strange creature, the gn.... toy adult... whatever, creeps me the fu-fu-freak out.
[Too much for you?]
You wish.
However, one thing weighed heavily on his mind. The Head Slave-Butler Gnome had informed him about the slave collar hanging around his neck. If he did anything against his masters or strayed too far from them, the collar would activate, causing a quick and small, yet fatal, explosion.
Is this really a magic item? magic. Sounds like fuck-
“Argh!” He took his time gathering back his strength, while his fellow slaves watched his indisposition nervously.
“Hey, you... new elf....”
I cannot even insult to my heart's content! You... demon-gods!
[You can stop cursing anytime you know.]
Oh you, shut up!