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(The story's been edited a little. I was near to falling asleep when I originally typed it up.)
The back door of the Second Wind Inn groaned softly, an uncomfortable reminder that everything becomes a struggle beneath the auspices of time. Amon quietly exits through the door, his mind racing after the conversation with Abby. "You've no one to blame but yourself." he thought, aloud.
He needed to find his center, and focus. The long trek to Port Avanthyr did nothing to ease his disquiet. Some wounds refuse balm. In the shadow of the temple's statue of Helm, Amon first practiced his katas, then turning to striking the practice dummies in impotent frustration.
When he tired of the exercises, he seated himself. Amon close his eyes, controlling his breathing in a manner he had a thousand times before. Stilling his mind the Sacred Fist sought nothing but his sense of self. He could feel the prickly beads of sweat upon the base of his neck, the subtle aches of recent exertions...
17 years ago
The weather was pleasant that day. Amon was seven; it seemed a lifetime ago by human reckoning. Amon yawned, as he stared at the expertly written work before him. The tedium of his studies were like a sleeping enchantment! Sensing Amon's growing disinterest, his tutor allowed the boy a brief reprieve. "Return by next bell." she said, with a noticeable tone of annoyance. Amon smiled and agreed, but truthfully had other plans. The slave quarters were off-limits, but he had found they were ideal for hiding from unwanted attentions, such as a dreadfully boring day of studies. The boy longed for a playmate; someone to share the wonderment of childhood adventures. But his father was a solitary man, only given to keep company when his business necessitated, or for the operations of his home.
Amon quietly crept down the stone stairwell, peering over the enclosed handrails. No one was around; they never were by this hour. The taskmaster would have taken any slaves out for training, leaving the quarters empty and as foreboding as any ancient ruin to a lonely child with an adventurous spirit. The boy smiled, plotting his mischief. You can imagine the boy nearly soiling himself when a timid and girlish voice squeaked out "Who are you?" from behind. He quickly whirled around to face a girl near his age. She was slight of frame, though not in a malnourished way, dark of hair and eye, with a complexion a shade or two darker than his own. She had a beautiful, if curious smile.
"I'm Amon," he said, "I live here." She looked him over in disbelief, "How come I've never seen you before?" "Father doesn't let me out, much." he replied with a frown. She seemed to mull this over before asking "Wanna play Dungeons & Dragons?" The prospect of a playmate excited him so much, he replied "Sure!" without really thinking. He frown at her. "What's wrong?" she asked. "I don't really know how to play that game." he said with a certain amount of trepidation. She giggled, "It's a make-believe game! There's no rules. Here, I'll show you. You be a Red Wizard, and I'll be your brave Thayan Knight." Amon smiled, nodding in agreement, "Ok! What should we do?"
The girl turned her head sideways and gave a perplexed expression, "I don't know, Master, I am but your lowly servant!" she said, taking a knee before him. Something deep within gnawed at Amon's stomach. He sensed an innate wrongness to this, and tried to ignore the queasiness. After all, he finally had someone to play with. Not wanting to be a spoil-sport, he feigned a haughty air, "Arise, my knight, and protect me from...that evil goblin!" He pointed at an imaginary enemy. The girl charged, miming a sword-fight with a goblin. "Master!" she cried with a mock sense of urgency, "I beg of you, lend me your magicks so that I might slay this hateful thing!"
He smiled, and said as if he couldn't be bothered, "Oh, alright." He still had a slight sense of unease at being referred to as Master. Before, Amon had never given much thought to the slave-master paradigm; things just were as they were. He now realized a part of him didn't like it, but what could he do about it? He was just a stupid kid. He continued to play along, murmuring some gibberish and waving his hands in faux somatic components. "I give you the strength of a Hill Giant! Strike down this enemy, my knight!" The Thayan Knight fought on with renewed vigor, slaying the goblin menace. "We've won!" she cheered, returning to kneel before Amon, "Thanks to your magicks and my steel, we were victorious."
She looked up at Amon with a genuine smile, and he found himself returning the same. They continued their imaginary adventures, losing track of time. At some point, exhausted by their games, the two children laid down together near the foot of the stairs, and drifted off to sleep...
"What's the meanin' o' dis!?" The taskmaster's uncultured tongue boomed like the rage of Talos, ripping the two children from their slumber. They cowered before the taskmaster as they awoke, and he snatched the slave girl away from Amon. "Seval! Got get the Master!" he barked at another servant before turning his eyes on another willowy slave. Amon could see she was probably the girl's mother. "I thought ya said she was sick!?" said the taskmaster in a hateful tone as he yanked up the slave girl. The mother seemed to shrink as she cowered, "She was, milord! I--" "Enough outta you!" the taskmaster snarled. Still shaken by the abruptness of it all, Amon cast a wide glance just in time to see his Seval returning, followed by his tutor, and Minori (his father's majordomo). Half a heartbeat later, his father descended the staircase.
"There you are! We've been looking all over for you!" the tutor said with what seemed to be concern. Amon's father wore the same severe expression he often had when receiving unwanted news. "What happened?" he asked in his soft basso. "Found 'em layin' out with this'un 'ere!" he jerked the slave girl around, again, to display her before Amon's father. A look of disgust scowled across his father's face, "Is this true, son?" "We were just playing, father!" Amon entreated, a tremble in his voice. The look on his father's face turned to anger, and perhaps a certain sadness. "Seval," he said without taking his eyes off Amon, "Beat the girl." Seval dutifully stepped forward, unfurling his whip as the taskmaster released the girl.
"Nooooo!" the mother screeched, throwing herself forward. But on the orders of the taskmaster, the other slaves held her fast. The slave girl looked to Amon for help, but he could do nothing more than look on, terrified. She found her feet beneath her and made to escape to her mother, but the first lash of Seval's whip swept her legs from under her. The girl collided, bodily, with the stone floor with a sickening thud.
And then the lashes fell.
The girl screamed with her mother, their voices a cacophony of pain and terror, given an operatic resonance of the slave quarter's enclosure. Amon watched in sympathetic misery as each lash opened not only the girl's threadbare clothes, but her young and flawless flesh. Somewhere after the twentieth lash, the girl mercifully lost consciousness, and her mother's voice was spent, reduced to hoarse sobbing and croaks. Amon looked to his father, who it had seemed never taken his eyes off his son. He still wore the same angry and sad expression. "That's enough, Seval." he said in a tone that brooked no further protest. The mother broke away, crawling to her fallen child, immediately cradling her in a loving embrace. "...my baby...my poor, sweet baby..." she said just above a whisper.
Amon's father turned to the tutor, "Get my son up to bed. Now." he said before looking to Seval and the taskmaster. "Beat the woman, too." Then he ascended the stairs from the slave's quarters, followed by Minori, Amon, and his tutor. When he looked back, the last thing Amon could see was the taskmaster unfurling his own whip while pulling the mother away from the slave girl. She didn't even struggle.
As the slave girl slipped out of her mother's arms, she was as limp as a wet noodle.
The mother was flung to the ground as the taskmaster and Seval began to obey the will of their Master. Amon was led out of the slave quarters with the silent screams of the beaten mother in his ears.
The back door of the Second Wind Inn groaned softly, an uncomfortable reminder that everything becomes a struggle beneath the auspices of time. Amon quietly exits through the door, his mind racing after the conversation with Abby. "You've no one to blame but yourself." he thought, aloud.
He needed to find his center, and focus. The long trek to Port Avanthyr did nothing to ease his disquiet. Some wounds refuse balm. In the shadow of the temple's statue of Helm, Amon first practiced his katas, then turning to striking the practice dummies in impotent frustration.
When he tired of the exercises, he seated himself. Amon close his eyes, controlling his breathing in a manner he had a thousand times before. Stilling his mind the Sacred Fist sought nothing but his sense of self. He could feel the prickly beads of sweat upon the base of his neck, the subtle aches of recent exertions...
17 years ago
The weather was pleasant that day. Amon was seven; it seemed a lifetime ago by human reckoning. Amon yawned, as he stared at the expertly written work before him. The tedium of his studies were like a sleeping enchantment! Sensing Amon's growing disinterest, his tutor allowed the boy a brief reprieve. "Return by next bell." she said, with a noticeable tone of annoyance. Amon smiled and agreed, but truthfully had other plans. The slave quarters were off-limits, but he had found they were ideal for hiding from unwanted attentions, such as a dreadfully boring day of studies. The boy longed for a playmate; someone to share the wonderment of childhood adventures. But his father was a solitary man, only given to keep company when his business necessitated, or for the operations of his home.
Amon quietly crept down the stone stairwell, peering over the enclosed handrails. No one was around; they never were by this hour. The taskmaster would have taken any slaves out for training, leaving the quarters empty and as foreboding as any ancient ruin to a lonely child with an adventurous spirit. The boy smiled, plotting his mischief. You can imagine the boy nearly soiling himself when a timid and girlish voice squeaked out "Who are you?" from behind. He quickly whirled around to face a girl near his age. She was slight of frame, though not in a malnourished way, dark of hair and eye, with a complexion a shade or two darker than his own. She had a beautiful, if curious smile.
"I'm Amon," he said, "I live here." She looked him over in disbelief, "How come I've never seen you before?" "Father doesn't let me out, much." he replied with a frown. She seemed to mull this over before asking "Wanna play Dungeons & Dragons?" The prospect of a playmate excited him so much, he replied "Sure!" without really thinking. He frown at her. "What's wrong?" she asked. "I don't really know how to play that game." he said with a certain amount of trepidation. She giggled, "It's a make-believe game! There's no rules. Here, I'll show you. You be a Red Wizard, and I'll be your brave Thayan Knight." Amon smiled, nodding in agreement, "Ok! What should we do?"
The girl turned her head sideways and gave a perplexed expression, "I don't know, Master, I am but your lowly servant!" she said, taking a knee before him. Something deep within gnawed at Amon's stomach. He sensed an innate wrongness to this, and tried to ignore the queasiness. After all, he finally had someone to play with. Not wanting to be a spoil-sport, he feigned a haughty air, "Arise, my knight, and protect me from...that evil goblin!" He pointed at an imaginary enemy. The girl charged, miming a sword-fight with a goblin. "Master!" she cried with a mock sense of urgency, "I beg of you, lend me your magicks so that I might slay this hateful thing!"
He smiled, and said as if he couldn't be bothered, "Oh, alright." He still had a slight sense of unease at being referred to as Master. Before, Amon had never given much thought to the slave-master paradigm; things just were as they were. He now realized a part of him didn't like it, but what could he do about it? He was just a stupid kid. He continued to play along, murmuring some gibberish and waving his hands in faux somatic components. "I give you the strength of a Hill Giant! Strike down this enemy, my knight!" The Thayan Knight fought on with renewed vigor, slaying the goblin menace. "We've won!" she cheered, returning to kneel before Amon, "Thanks to your magicks and my steel, we were victorious."
She looked up at Amon with a genuine smile, and he found himself returning the same. They continued their imaginary adventures, losing track of time. At some point, exhausted by their games, the two children laid down together near the foot of the stairs, and drifted off to sleep...
"What's the meanin' o' dis!?" The taskmaster's uncultured tongue boomed like the rage of Talos, ripping the two children from their slumber. They cowered before the taskmaster as they awoke, and he snatched the slave girl away from Amon. "Seval! Got get the Master!" he barked at another servant before turning his eyes on another willowy slave. Amon could see she was probably the girl's mother. "I thought ya said she was sick!?" said the taskmaster in a hateful tone as he yanked up the slave girl. The mother seemed to shrink as she cowered, "She was, milord! I--" "Enough outta you!" the taskmaster snarled. Still shaken by the abruptness of it all, Amon cast a wide glance just in time to see his Seval returning, followed by his tutor, and Minori (his father's majordomo). Half a heartbeat later, his father descended the staircase.
"There you are! We've been looking all over for you!" the tutor said with what seemed to be concern. Amon's father wore the same severe expression he often had when receiving unwanted news. "What happened?" he asked in his soft basso. "Found 'em layin' out with this'un 'ere!" he jerked the slave girl around, again, to display her before Amon's father. A look of disgust scowled across his father's face, "Is this true, son?" "We were just playing, father!" Amon entreated, a tremble in his voice. The look on his father's face turned to anger, and perhaps a certain sadness. "Seval," he said without taking his eyes off Amon, "Beat the girl." Seval dutifully stepped forward, unfurling his whip as the taskmaster released the girl.
"Nooooo!" the mother screeched, throwing herself forward. But on the orders of the taskmaster, the other slaves held her fast. The slave girl looked to Amon for help, but he could do nothing more than look on, terrified. She found her feet beneath her and made to escape to her mother, but the first lash of Seval's whip swept her legs from under her. The girl collided, bodily, with the stone floor with a sickening thud.
And then the lashes fell.
The girl screamed with her mother, their voices a cacophony of pain and terror, given an operatic resonance of the slave quarter's enclosure. Amon watched in sympathetic misery as each lash opened not only the girl's threadbare clothes, but her young and flawless flesh. Somewhere after the twentieth lash, the girl mercifully lost consciousness, and her mother's voice was spent, reduced to hoarse sobbing and croaks. Amon looked to his father, who it had seemed never taken his eyes off his son. He still wore the same angry and sad expression. "That's enough, Seval." he said in a tone that brooked no further protest. The mother broke away, crawling to her fallen child, immediately cradling her in a loving embrace. "...my baby...my poor, sweet baby..." she said just above a whisper.
Amon's father turned to the tutor, "Get my son up to bed. Now." he said before looking to Seval and the taskmaster. "Beat the woman, too." Then he ascended the stairs from the slave's quarters, followed by Minori, Amon, and his tutor. When he looked back, the last thing Amon could see was the taskmaster unfurling his own whip while pulling the mother away from the slave girl. She didn't even struggle.
As the slave girl slipped out of her mother's arms, she was as limp as a wet noodle.
The mother was flung to the ground as the taskmaster and Seval began to obey the will of their Master. Amon was led out of the slave quarters with the silent screams of the beaten mother in his ears.
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