Amari’s eyes opened up the moment she heard Flint stirring. She sat up, brushing back long dark hair out of her face and behind pointed ears. The grogginess of sleep never really left when you could only afford a few hours on rough floors. But it was enough. She moved to sit up, suddenly seeing a metal cup hovering in front of her face. She blinked, seeing the hand holding it, the arm it was attached to, then up to Flint’s face. “Something to wake you up. Velvet got coffee recently from a client.” He said with a smile.
She took the warm cup and sipped the bitter brown liquid. The warmth, the caffeine, it was a welcome feeling, even if the cup only had a few sips worth of liquid in it. Those few sips may have been a full cup of the finest wine through all the land, and she looked to him with grateful eyes. “Thank you,” she muttered softly. Flint knew just a few words from Amari conveyed more than any could guess. Her eyes not looking over his shoulder, her tail at rest, and the fact she closed her eyes when drinking. She was relaxed. That meant the world to him.
After getting their bearings, they said their farewell to Velvet, and began to make the journey to the Menagerie. Their collars felt even warmer today, but thankfully they still had plenty of time. It’d only been a day so they took it slow and kept their wits about them. In the tunnels time meant very little, it could be morning, noon, evening, or even the dead of night. Everything down here was lowlight. Deploying after being leased to new clients was always a difficult adjustment period.
We’ll manage.
The voice whispered, still gripping her brain with tight claws. It was so early that she nearly snapped at it for doing so, but opted to let out a sigh instead. “You tired?” Flint asked with slight concern.
“I got enough sleep.” Amari replied before the sound of broken glass caught her attention. As they passed by another building, the sound of a fight could be heard. It looked like a bar, smelled like one from the outside, and sure enough once they passed it two people came rolling out of the front entrance past the cloth door. They fought, but whatever the outcome would be, Flint and Amari left it behind.
“Good. Because I didn’t.” Flint gave a short tired laugh. “Let’s hope we can impress.”
“Why didn’t you sleep well?” She inquired, walking by his side as they saw the Menagerie in the distance. High above the stone floor was a sort of viewing port. Glass had been placed to allow potential buyers to see the slaves during their day to day. Said Menagerie wrapped around most of the major areas like the Nexus. Such as a place called the Ramparts, the Gardens, The Vein, and more. Each with their own unique aspects. Amari fondly remembered the Ramparts, a place in the shape of an underground fortress. It was the first and only line of defense against the majority of the Pale Ones. Small grotesque mutants and vicious carnivores native to this underground world. Alone they weren’t much of a problem; but when many attacked even the strongest slave found themselves overwhelmed. Why she slept there so well was an ironic mystery to her.
“I was dreaming of the farm again,” Flint said with melancholy. It was so serious and different from his usual tone, that Amari perked up almost immediately. Her impish tail flicked as if on alert. The word was like a code, her body tensed up and her cheeks pulled her lips into something she hadn’t felt in many years. It was a small smile, lasting only for the briefest moment in time. But it felt strange and alien. “I just couldn’t stop thinking about it. I dreamed about what it could be. It was bittersweet, and I woke up too early. Couldn’t go back to sleep.”
They kept pace in silence for a few moments before Amari relaxed. “Tell me more about the Farm, please.” She finally mumbled.
Without missing a beat, Flint smiled and began. “Four strong walls, made of wood of course. I want it made of Redwood, the books say it’s the strongest wood out there. A beautiful roof made of stone and thatch to keep the weather away. One HUGE open area with plenty of chairs and tables so all of our friends can sit with us. I want a forge out back as well so I can make things. With a little pond with some fish nearby. A wooden fence, oh and of course a garden. We could grow potatoes, beans, maybe some apples too. Apple bushes would be amazing.” Flint smiled at the thought.
“Trees.” Amari said flatly.
“What?”
“Apples grow on trees. Not bushes.” She replied, her deadpan state facing forward as her mind filled with the mental image of such a place.
“Oh, really? Huh… What grows on bushes then? Was it tomatoes?
“I don’t know. I think blueberries grow on bushes. But I can’t remember.” Amari shrugged.
“Ah… Yeah that makes sense, thank the Gods you’d be there to help. I can’t tell good soil from sand. Ha, ironic considering I can spot the difference between Iriki metal and Mithral with just a glance.” He chuckled at himself. For all his education and knowledge, his building prowess too, there were gaps in his knowledge that seemed so simple yet so far away.
“A big kitchen, a big garden, and a big orchard too. With several rooms for guests.” Amari stated, her stomach suddenly tightening as the lack of food besides yesterday''s bread caused a grumble. Food was sacred in the tunnels, on deployment. A hot meal meant the difference between shell shock and iron will. A hot drink meant the difference between snapping and finding resolve. She’d gathered experience cooking rats and other vermin both in the tunnels and in the trenches. Seeing the smiling faces of other soldiers as warm rat broth or pigeon soup filled their bellies, it brought her the tiniest flicker of hope. Something other than killing, and that something made people happy. She was thankful that over the years on deployments she’d learned from others how to make a decent meal. If not just for herself, for others that gave her comfort during the long nights on watch waiting for the enemy.
“Of course, the biggest kitchen possible. I’ll build it so well I bet even the Magus would be jealous.” Flint said proudly, a sudden kick in his step that helped him ignore the hunger in his own stomach.
The two finally arrived at a lift along the stone walls, guarded by two heavily armed soldiers. Their full plate mail covered their faces and bodies, and each stood quite tall, carrying large weapons. “Eights,” Amari mumbled. Their collars hung loosely from their necks, but with that size and armor there was no mistaking the mystical Eights of the underground. Slaves that proved to be exceptional guard dogs were taken away for special training, special enhancements and enchantments. They kept much of their personality, perhaps to make them not appear like wardens to this hellish prison. But they were conditioned with absolute loyalty. Amari recalled watching one cut down a sick child that coughed blood on the Magus’ shoes many years ago. All it took was a flick of his wrist, and one of his Eight’s carried out the task. As she stared into the strange metal that looked almost like a bowl with a few breathing holes in it, she recalled the hatred she felt for them in that moment.
Monsters should be killed.
The voice grumbled, causing her to twitch. The Eights both looked to her hand that twitched near her small weapons, but Amari quickly corrected that behavior and looked to the ground. Skill be damned, Eights were monsters on the battlefield. She was confident she could survive and run away from one with her lack of gear. But two at this range? Any stupid moves would see her dead right here with no chance. “Business?” One of the Eights asked.
“Answering the call, sir. Several Specialists have been summoned for an auction just up above. Amari and I have been chosen.” He replied.
The Eight looked down at them and stared for a moment. “Alright, present your collars. Let me see.” He continued. His voice was surprisingly smooth, young even. Eights rarely left their armor, and had separate sleeping quarters on the surface world. Perhaps all that sunlight and fresh air didn’t give him the usual gravel many men’s voices had down here. Who could tell, Amari thought to herself.
A monster, but a sweet sounding one. Should bite his throat out.
There it was again. These weren’t her thoughts. She buried them and moved to pull at the collar on her neck. It was warm but not blistering hot, thankfully. Many rumors often spread that Infernals, Demonkin, could walk through flames without issue. It was a foolish idea. Amari could handle the heat better than most, but fire still hurt after a while, and white hot metal hurt far more than many understood. The burn scar on her neck ached as she remembered its cruel kiss. Their collars were examined to see they were indeed heating up and shrinking, and the Eight nodded. “Alright you’re clear. You’re lucky you’re early, the Magus is testing your response time. Many buyers are here currently, including a new Princeling from the West.” The Eight stated.
“How fun, I hope he brought snacks.” Flint tried to joke. Much like Amari, the Eights simply stared as if waiting for a punchline.
But the one that spoke to them suddenly laughed, “Ha! If he does, drop something sweet down here for me, will ya?”
Flint nodded and both he and Amari stepped onto the lift behind the Eights. The one that hadn’t spoken this whole interaction moved to pull a level. The machinery hummed to life as the lift guided Amari and Flint upwards to the Menagerie. She braced herself, ready to feel the prodding, poking, and grabbing of perspective buyers. She was somewhat grateful the Magus ensured all buyers knew she was a soldier. Not some pleasure slave. Hands laid on her outside of combat were threatened with punishment only magic could give. It still didn’t mean some found small loopholes, but at least it hadn’t gone beyond a point of no return.
We should crucify them, and set it ablaze.
Maybe… No. Not now, not here, she shook her head slightly so Flint wouldn’t notice.
When the lift was nearly to the wood trap doors above her head, they opened, letting an overwhelming amount of light spill out. It practically blinded them both, and they had been prepared by closing their eyes. The lift finally stopped, and Amari blinked to let her eyes adjust. It was almost too much to bear, the sights and smells, the sounds alone nearly threw her into a frenzy.
Music. Music played from a small group of bards in the corner, something fancy that nobles enjoyed. The smell of various cooked meats, meals, and more made her mouth water and her stomach thrash in anger at how little it had enjoyed. Bread was a gift, mushrooms a staple, vegetables and dried meats came with every three days in the tunnels. But fresh cooked meat dripping with juices from the chicken, pork, or beef? It was intoxicating and worthy of dreams. She saw a dozen or so well dressed nobles, laughing and drinking wine. They all seemed so happy, fat, and ripe for ripping apart.
Why should they be happy?
She agreed with the voice. What gave them the right? What gave them the privilege to dine, drink, and laugh so close to suffering made real just below their feet? Her glare softened as a rather tall woman suddenly stepped in front of them both. Amari knew this woman quite well from previous deployments, though never bothered to remember her name. Amari frowned up at her. The expression was returned as said woman gazed down at Amari. Her pointed ears, slender build, and long flowing blond locks marked her as a High Elf of great respect. She wore no collar, but the whip marks had tasted her flesh before. “Warden.” Amari spat.
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“I am no Warden, little Amari, I am Nemal. Do try to remember that.” The Elf returned the same attitude. “You both are early, like a few others, this will please the Magus. Let’s get you prepared.” Nemal snapped her fingers, and a few servants came to guide them away to a room near the lift. Preparation felt disgusting, but it was necessary.
Once in this small room with green carpet and ornate wooden walls, Amari stood to the side of Flint. They were turned to face the walls as servants began to disarm and disrobe them both. These servants seemed well fed, well taken care of, and they had no collars. They even looked well washed.
They chose to be here.
Perhaps they did. Both she and Flint stood bare; they merely waited for the servants to begin. Her eyes glanced at him for a small moment. Scars ran up his arms, across his chest and abdomen. It was the same for her. Several cuts from swords, holes from arrows, and the burn mark from her neck covered almost all of the left side of her body. Save for her face. Servants moved to wash the dirt, grim, and sweat from their bodies. They washed their heads and removed the debris, the blood, perhaps even lice. At least they would if lice could even survive in such a place. There was a moment of comfort as Amari’s long black hair was combed for the first time in months. It felt nice, it felt normal. When they were sufficiently cleaned the servants moved to clothe them in much nicer attire. It was only temporary of course. They both knew this.
Once dressed in fairly nice tunics and pants, the servants armored them. They would not be given weapons, but their armor represented what the buyer would be getting. Flint was prepared in leather with various bits of chainmail stitched in. A lighter outfit to let him move around while performing his duties as an engineer. His boots had metal in the tip, a smart decision in case he needed to kick something.
Amari was dressed in heavier armor. Still light enough to take advantage of the speed she was known for having, but durable enough that she could perform her duties as a Seven. Maybe it was actually too heavy and her strength just made it seem otherwise? It was a small thing that bothered her every time she was placed in this armor. Neither was given a helmet, for both were arguably attractive to the eyes. A rugged human, and an Infernal woman. Their appearance, like their skills, were necessary to show off to make a good sale. That’s what the Magus always said.
Amari and Flint were finally led from the room to a nearby lineup where a handful of other Specialists waited. Amari remembered a few of them, but her eyes drifted back to the party as a glass began to clink. The music died down, the conversation fettered out, and standing at the center of the room was him. The Magus himself. Lorminus Von Hisilda. An Elven man with sun kissed olive skin, fiery red hair, and bright golden eyes that captured the attention of every noble. Despite her hatred for this abomination to the word man, even Amari had to admit there was an otherworldly appeal about his athletic build and looks. Though it didn’t bury the hatred.
“My friends! My friends, if I can have your attention please!” The Magus started. His voice and accent flowed like a human’s from the North, yet another unique addition to his strange appearance. “I want to thank all of you for once again making the journey here to the Auction. I know the roads have been quite dangerous with bandits, beasts, and well… Prince Harrow’s supporters,” he joked, causing a soft rumble of laughter in this dining hall. Amari’s eyes hurt from the lights shining off all the gold cutlery and decorations.
Who even needs that much gold?
It was a fair question. The name Prince Harrow stuck with her for a moment. The Late King Heinsel had three sons and one daughter all fighting for the throne. Prince Harrow was a mystery. All she ever heard was that he was a cruel and violent ruler that oppressed the march of progress. But these were merchants that leased slave soldiers on the regular, Amari didn’t believe a word of it. There was also Prince Caliman, said to be a brilliant tactician, and a man of honor that wanted to make the world a better place. Of course, she didn’t believe that for a moment. All people wanted to make the world better. But once they had power, it became apparent that even the most sincere fall victim to power’s intoxicating aroma. There was another Prince, the youngest of the boys, but Amari couldn’t remember him. The Princess was so out of the public eye that she barely heard so much as a rumor from the lords she had served before.
Focus.
The voice snapped her to attention as the Magus gestured to the Specialists. “Now we have quite a few here tonight, but rest assured more will arrive tomorrow as well. Still I know some of you are eager to begin so we can start looking at a few here. Do remember that we offer contract only. Rank and File you can purchase as you please, but these Specialists can only be leased for up to three years. Afterwards you must purchase an extension or return them intact I might add. Enjoy yourself my friends!” The Magus finally ended. A few nobles already approached.
So it began. Many would look to them with intrigue, they’d grab their arms to check muscles. They moved their faces around to check how they looked. Some even stuck their hands in one of the Specialist’s mouths to examine his teeth like some kind of horse. When one finally approached Amari, she tensed up. She despised being touched, and no matter how stiff her body became to prepare itself, her tail flicked nervously. This well dressed human looked down at her confused and then turned back to the Magus. “Excuse me, Mr. Hisilda, a question if you will?”
The Magus said farewell to a guest and approached. “Ah Master Wilbert, how can I assist you my good sir?” The Magus asked with a radiant smile and warm tone.
“I’m new to these parties of yours,” he started as Amari quickly stole a glance at him. Long brown beard, short well cut brown hair, alert blue eyes, and smell of tobacco on his breath. His fine clothes had more fur than jewels. Was he a hunter? “I wanted to get at least one Specialist but, and I mean no offense, is this one a joke? One of the pleasure slaves in armor by chance?”
Amari twitched, but recomposed herself when the Magus looked her way. Magus Lorminus smiled and shook his head. “No absolutely not good sir, in fact Amari here is one of our most requested items. She’s a Six, one of our shock troopers, and a very adept fighter I might add. Don’t let her smaller size fool you, I’ve personally seen to it that she is enhanced with all manner of things to make her a deadly unit on any battlefield.”
“Hm… You’ll forgive me if I’m not convinced.” Wilbert said while folding his arms and looking down at her.
Lorminus nodded, “Then allow me to give a demonstration.” He grabbed a nearby knife off of a table and held it out to Wilbert. “Please, if you will, attempt to bend this piece of silverware.” Silverware at a party with mostly gold, it was an item he kept around the last few times someone questioned her strength.
Wilbert raised her brow, but shrugged and took the butterknife. Try as he might, the metal wouldn’t bend in his hands. He chuckled and then held it out to the Magus. “About as impossible as bending a sword.”
The Magus gestured to Amari. “Now give it to her.” Wilbert rolled his eyes but played along. He handed the butterknife to Amari, and she took it in her hands. For the briefest of moments she was plagued by the sickeningly sweet thoughts of driving this object through Wilbert’s skull. What’s the worst the Magus would do to her? Flay her alive? Boiled to death in hot oil? Perhaps remove her limbs and leave her a stump for the Pale Ones? It was almost worth it. Almost.
Flint.
The voice said his name, and all those thoughts melted away. Time resumed its course as with no effort at all, Amari bent the butter knife with both hands. She bent it again in the opposite direction, and began to twist the metal like it was rubber. Wilbert was positively stricken with awe. “Infernal strength at work I see.” He nodded proudly.
“No no, a common misconception.” Lorminus began. “Infernals are warmer and slightly stronger than humans. But only slightly. Your average Infernal man can carry maybe ten pounds more than your average human man, and vice versa for the women. This, my friend, is my own work. I carved enchantments of strength onto her bones, wrote sigils on the muscles just beneath the skin. I even reinforced several weak points like the temple of the skull with a Dwarf made Wyvern-Steel. She’s tough, durable, but don’t let that small appearance fool you. I once saw her act as a battering ram and take down a fort''s wood doors with enough thrashing.”
Amari remembered that battle. Her friends screaming as hot oil was poured on them, the stink of death from other soldiers that lay long dead nearby in a moot of mud. They had to get into the Fort. Scars on her back from a few arrows reminded her of how close she had danced with Death as well. “I see, fascinating work Mr. Hisilda. I’d like to check the others now.” Wilbert said with a polite nod. “Excuse me.”
As he left, Amari felt a sudden chill up her spine. It was but for a beat of a heart. The fluttering of a fly’s wings were slower, but for that moment in time she saw the Magus’ eyes void of light, of care, and a devil stared at her. It forced her eyes to the ground. Every instinct screamed for her to shut up, stay still, and make herself as small as she could to hide. When she looked back up he was smiling at her like any other guest. “My dear Amari, let’s behave now and not tense up. We wouldn’t want to be uncivilized with new guests, understood?” His voice was disgustingly sweet.
She nodded, “I’m sorry, Magus.” Amari said. Even Flint remained still, but she could tell beneath it he was enraged. As the Magus turned around, he suddenly flinched. Flinched? The Magus never flinched, he had no reason to. As far as Amari knew he was the most powerful mage she’d ever known. What caused him to flinch? Actually… Why was the party suddenly so quiet? Amari looked up from the floor and gazed at what could’ve caused this. Her eyes suddenly opened, a look of surprise at what stood before them.
Pale alabaster skin like that of ivory. Eyes a shining green, and silky blonde hair atop a human woman’s head. A dress that flowed with the grace of angels and looked to have been sewn by elves of ancient empires. A beautiful piece of Jade-like jewelry in the form of a dragon rested as a pin in her hair, and she gazed at the Specialists with serene eyes. Amari felt the world suddenly change. The dining hall was gone, the oppressive walls, and the pain in her limbs vanished. She breathed air as fresh as mountain spring water, felt the winds of freedom flow through her hair, and stood on the little farm with Flint.
Beauty. Power.
The voice spoke softly, for once it came with no pain. Magus Lorminus quickly gathered himself and bowed. “Well well, it’s not often we are greeted by you, Countess Marivala, it is truly a pleasure, though I thought you detested these little tea parties I held.” The Magus was… Frustrated? Amari had never seen someone cause such an emotion in him. Even if it was subtle, she learned from an early age to read the small signs to avoid his wrath.
This woman gave a small smile. “Oh believe me, I despise them so very much, Magus Lorminus. But alas I’m here out of intrigue for one thing and one thing only.”
“Oh? Praytell what can this humble servant of our great Kingdom do to assist?” He offered with a polite bow.
Before she could answer, Amari felt the world slow once more. Countess Marivala gazed at her, and Amari felt a strange sensation in her mind. She recalled first arriving here as a child. Their first test was pitting one new arrival against another at a similar age. The loser was left to rot, the winner was given their first and only warm meal before training. She recalled meeting Flint, and both trying to kill each other as teens over bread. She was thrust into her first deployment, and her first battlefield kill. Her life seemed to wash across her in a flash, and when it was done, the Countess approached. “My lady requires a new bodyguard. Something more permanent. Considering the loyalty of your… projects. I figured one of these would do just fine.”
Magus Lorminus chuckled. “Although I desire to help, our Specialists come with a maximum three year contract. It’s one thousand gold pieces a year after all. Even with renewals we have them return for… Evaluation. To ensure no anomalies in their behavior.”
“My lady is prepared to offer up fifty thousand then. Fifty years, surely enough time to end this war and then some, if only to handle any and all future issues during peacetime.” The room was silent save for a few audible gasps. Who was it this woman served? Amari did not understand money as well as she wished, but considering the reaction it must’ve meant a lot. Even the Magus was stunned.
“W-Well… For that price I believe we surely can maybe accommodate something, ha.” The Magus cleared his throat and suddenly cheered. “Our first sale of the night! Folks this is special so please don’t go giving me a heart attack like she has!” He laughed as a cacophony of cheers erupted. Amari, however, felt her stomach drop. A bubbling anger swelled inside and she fought the urge to scream.
She’s going to buy us?! Kill her! Rip her apart!
Yes, yes, kill her. Kill her now. If she bought her then Amari would never see Flint again. It wasn’t like the last deployment. This was fifty years. Flint wouldn’t survive fifty years alone. Wait… Would she even survive fifty years alone? No, this couldn’t be. This was hell, this was a nightmare, this woman needed to die!
Her mind suddenly quieted as the Countess approached her. When she was close enough, the Countess looked down at her and smiled softly. “I shall take you as my lady’s new bodyguard. Have you any objections?”
A million. A billion. Ten trillion objections flowed through her brain and she tried to fight against the fear of it all. The Magus’ gaze was watching Amari carefully. She couldn’t speak, she couldn’t object, she couldn’t. “My lady, can you by chance-” She stopped as The Magus’ glare pierced through her. Her heart began to hurt, her blood twisted, and her bones began to ache as magic swelled inside of her. Her discipline kept her from moving, but that brief moment of pain was agonizing.
“Can I do what?” The Countess asked, confused.
She cleared her throat, “No… Never mind, I am at your disposal, ma’am.” She responded, much to the Magus’ delight.
Flint. Comrade. Companion. Shield. Fr-
The words were cut off in her brain by the hatred swelling up inside of her. The Countess smiled and nodded. “Very well. Magus Lorminus, I’ll be taking this one. Payment will be delivered to you shortly. My lady needs me so we will be departing early. Remove her collar and we shall take our leave.”
Magus Lorminus chuckled, “I’m afraid you’ll need to keep the collar on. Amari is quite violent, especially to mages. So it’s in your best interest to keep her shackled. At least till you’re off my property.”
“Very well, come along Amari, we have a long journey ahead of us.” Countess Marivala instructed as she started to leave.
Amari turned to Flint with fear in her eyes, and he did the same. “Ma’am wait what about-” the collar heated up almost instantly, and Amari choked as it squeezed her throat.
The Magus picked her up and held her close to whisper things in her ear. “Go with that whore, now. Mention my prized engineer one more time, and I’ll make you watch me flay the skin off his body. The same way you watched that little one.” His voice was no longer sweet, but filled with venom and ice that pained her ears. Her eyes welled with tears that were too scared to come out. Her body rose on instinct as her fearful eyes looked to Flint one last time. As he tried to reach out to her, his own collar tightened and forced him back into place. Amari’s feet, if only to ensure her survival, began to leave and follow the Countess.
We’ll kill them all. Dance in their remains and make them suffer.
Her worst fears began to bubble in her mind. When she laid her head down to sleep tonight, would she begin to forget pieces of Flint?