“These markets disgust me, an unfortunate byproduct of the empires society.” Mckenna thought to himself.
Now in his 30’s a former lion, fangs now dulled from the easy life of lordship in a small township. This far southeast the only sources of income a town is able to bring in is fishing, lumber and working with the slave traders of Vargra, despite being at war with them trade is still booming.
Sowin is considered very progressive when it comes to slave rights and treatment. All thanks to the efforts of Lord McKenna. The biggest representation of their progressiveness is the trade hall where the buying and selling of half starved and worked to the bone men, women and children’s is highly regulated and protective of life.
“Rats disguised as men these traders are, selling other poor souls for what? Revenge on the enemies of the old kingdoms? Their ancestors were on the wrong side of a war fought hundreds of years ago. No, this is for profit making money off of perceived lesser men. I hate these visits, but I am the lord of these lands. I can not directly change rules as old as this country, but I can make life for these poor souls as easy as I am permitted to and then some if the gods are willing.” He continued. His eyes down, half lost in thought, half in shame as he and his elected inspector entered the large hall.
In stark contrast to a typical slave market, Sowin’s burch wood and stone hall was well kept and clean, resembling more of a show room then a place where such atrocities were committed.
“Donald have you check the condition of these people came in with? They look half dead and the children number 4 to every 1 man. Where on earth did they get these people?” Mckenna let’s out looking towards the short, plump, Dovar man who wore a fine silk jacket over a fresh white blouse and a red pantaloon studded down the side. The only hair he had was thick sideburns that were braided and decorated in a traditional Dovar style.
“What people? Oh! These slave you mean my Lord. Yes I have noticed quite a lack of quality, but no worries I have already handed them a fine for the poor condition they are in, and had the medics sent around before opening to give them a looking to!” Donald smiles enthusiastically looking toward McKenna as if expecting to be praised. Pale marbled eyes looking expectingly.
“Well done Donald.” McKenna finally said, Though the Dovar race are extremely blunt and naive they are dedicated to their craft and take pride in whatever their work is. Typically, they are born with the natural ability for craft and inventing, but ever since the stone folk were accepted into their society some have lost their gifts. Donald is one of those born without the gift, he would’ve ended up like his brethren out on the streets begging for scraps. Donald however, is a hard worker and kind to everyone he meets so the town saw it fit to elect him head of this grim task, and he excels thankfully.
“And as to where their from, there was a remote village at the northern most boarder of Vargra at the foot of the mountains. The village is special by the fact that they are more Tora culturally influenced then their home country in that they take in all refugees and travellers and are known to have many brothels that cater to any of your desires.” Donald said with a smile and hardy chuckle.
“These slaves were taken from orphanages and the poor as tribute to the kingdom of Vargra.They were... how should I say... half breeds like the stone folk, but they are children and young adults of all racial backgrounds.” He continued.
“I’m sorry my love, you would hate this if you were still here. Tell me that I could do and should do more. We both joined the Lo’TorVar to bring down this cruel and oppressive kingdom that my father ruled. You were so passionate, would’ve marched in here and freed all these people from their chains not continue to allow them to be bought and sold like objects. I’m sorry my love I’ve failed you.” Mckenna thought to himself, clenching his jaws in rage, but pauses closed his eyes and took a breath trying not to show his displeasure on his face.
“Let’s get this inspection done Donald.” Mckenna said as he began to stride down the first isle of stages and traders followed closely by Donald.
Though embarrassed at the site of such a cold and evil business, McKenna made a point to look in the eyes of every poor soul that was sold in the market, every new poor soul for the last 10 years. It destroyed him inside, but he refused to hide from the cruel truth of his failures as a Prince. They continued like this up and down a few rows of the markets, Donald telling McKenna the names of each slave that they passed. Finally they come across Draken a brothel owner from the town over in Harrow the closest thing to a city this far south of the Lowlands. He is also known to be breaking into the gladiator games that are popular up north in the Empire proper. Draken had grown the reputation of being particularly wicked to his slaves, as well having a particular taste for young half-breeds. He was standing in front of a trader just opening shop, looking to be inquiring about two young children the trader was chaining up. The two look to share similar features, darker skinned but closer to olive tones then black with curly unkempt light brown hair.
“Greetings Draken, you are here quite early.” McKenna let out failing to hide displeasure.
“My Lord” Draken replies with a bow.
“Of course I am early, get the best choice of stock.” He continued with a wicked smile.
Something begins to vibrate in McKenna’s breast pocket as they get closer to the two slave children.
“Unfortunately I have my eye on these two, would you be so kind as to remove your bid on these two I’m sure you can find some other poor souls to procure.” Mckenna suddenly let out in a demanding tone. Eyeing the bloated, sweaty, pig-nosed man who squirmed under McKenna’s gaze as he towered over him.
“My Lord I never imagined you were the type to keep slaves. You are here every week, yet not once have I witness you take part. Why are you so interested in these two?” Gesturing toward the two children the smaller boy hiding behind his sister peering over her shoulder. The girl’s eyes were a pale marbled white with specks of auburn, the boy’s eyes a golden colour tinged with red.
“I simply have been waiting till I found what I want, and these two happen to be the exactly that.” McKenna snapped back.
Draken went to reply his face contorted fighting back the anger. “I only want the girl my Lord surely we can work something out.”
McKenna stepped in closer to Draken hand on the hilt of his blade, attempting to call him on his bluff. Draken jumps back now visually scared “of... course my Lord, a mere merchant as myself would never wish to deny his grace what he desires.”
“Good, you trader, how much are the pair?” McKenna says pointing at the slave trader, who jumped out of the trance he was from watching the two men before him go at it.
“For you my Lord, 150 each.” His grin revealing gold canines.
“Fine, Donald pay this man, and after take them back have them bathed, fed, and clothed I will return later this evening to take them with me on my return home once I have attended to other matters.” Lord McKenna said in a reserved tone.
“Of course my Lord, I will have it arranged.” Donald said with a bow. Then turned to the twins “come along now let’s get you cleaned up.” with a smile.
The pair took each of the short Dovar man’s hand, and followed him off to a side room for processing. McKenna continued his grim work on his own.
“How unfortunate, I thought my son would be my greatest asset. Instead Michael has turn into my greatest conspirator, plotting and scheming like the rest of those scum. Enough, he is nothing more then another irritation.” Lord Cain shuffled in his seat from the thought. He has taken to presiding over citizens complaints in a bid to gain more popularity to sway the electing council of lords to name him the rightful heir. After his father’s death Cain and six of his brothers, and now his son all have been put in contention for the role of heir. “Thankfully I am not like the rest of those swine. It was rigged in my favour from the start, I am fathers first born oldest by a decade, control more land then them all added together, casting a shadow that spreads far across the Empire, and a more accomplished general then all of my siblings bar McKenna. Thankfully I took care of him in my early days, clipped his wings before he had a chance to soar above me.” Grinning to himself. “Bring in the next poor soul, I don’t have the patience for this much longer.” He said scowling at the page standing obediently next to Lords Cain mighty thrown, its pitch black smooth stone seemed to become like liquid slowly streaming upward towards the high ceilings of his great hall then falling back into the black mass. It was a gift and tribute from the mystic stone crafters on the outskirts of his territory. They are stone folk who are world renowned for their ability to imbue magics into stone to change its qualities creating bizarre living sculptures that reflect the person it represents, and are even known to have the ability to craft stone automatons.
The page jumps from the abrupt demanding tone of his lord. He lets out ”right away my lord!” with a yelp. Then bows and runs off to retrieve the needy man or woman coming to plead for assistance or action from lord Cain more often then not to no avail. Finally, the great hall doors open and in come the page returning with a younger looking man dressed like a lowlands lord. An exotic fur coat drags behind him, his neck and hands adorned in Flamboyant gold jewellery, and the beginnings of a thick beard finely trimmed. As the young lord reached the foot of the staircase leading to Cain he quickly got to one knee bowing his head. “My Lord, this is Lord Drakin’s son, Lord Marden. He has come from the war front to report.” The page said head bowed as well. “And,” Marden butted in finally looking up with an awkward smile “a request if my Lord, if that is acceptable?”
Cain leaned back into his inky black throne, looking more then please with the prospects of a deal.
“I will listen to your request then, I’ve had enough soldiers and minor lords coming to give yet another report of the war front, when my eyes and ears are everywhere and the battlefield is always in my sights.”
Marden looked shocked at the response thinking he had made a clever move in coming to personally report his victories.
“Well my Lord, I have consistently proven my capabilities in battle and I have been winning clash after clash against those Vargra scum.” He paused looking towards Cain for a reaction.
“So?” Cain muttered.
“So, I would like to request that House Tarven could reclaim territory in our name alone the Tiber river. We have proven time after time that we are not only unquestionably loyal to you Lord Cain, but the strongest of the lowland clans that are loyal to you my Lord.” He let out, attempting to sound more confident.
“Hmmm... an interesting proposition, and who’s landing would that be exactly?” Cain finally said examining his fingernails.
“Do you worry we can’t ho...” Marden began to let out in a questioning tone, before suddenly being interrupted by a Cain raising a finger to his mouth. Then looking over his shoulder wait for his advisor to step forward and reply.
“ As far as I’m aware my Lord, no one of substantial concern. In fact Lord Killian formerly served under Micheal in the last conflict with the Merchants Coast.” The advisor whispered into the ear Cain turned towards him.
“Ahhh well then you are in luck my young friend. I happen to have fallen out with that traitorous son of mine, and I do lack an enforcer for my lands down there.”
“And who better then a barbarian to tame barbarians.” He let out with a chuckle followed by the laughter of the court.
“Here is the deal, I will grant your wish, but in exchange you will enforce my new land taxes. I have been expecting resistance to higher taxes, but with you to carry my will it saves me having to move troops to squash rebellion.” Looking down his nose now at the young lord.
“It’s a shame I’ve eliminated any worthy opponent to battle wit, all that is left are these cowards” Cain thought in disgust.
“Th... thank you my Lord I’m sure my father will be glad to hear this news I will return with his response at once.” Marden said enthusiastically.
Marden began to rise from his knelt position, and hurriedly went to turn and walk out.
“No.” Cain raised his voice sounding irritated.
“That won’t do at all. I have no patience to wait for your response when I could give it to any other lowly minor Lord looking to prove their loyalty. I want an answer now from you.” He said his face growing more and more impatient.
“B..but my Lord that would go against our traditions. My father sits as the head of the clan he gets the day in all matters.” Marden let out weakly careful not to make eye contact.
“Who care about your bloody lowland traditions. Prove your loyalty carry out my will. Now go before I revoke my gracious offer, insolent boy.”Cain yelled.
Marden went to respond at first, but finally he bows with clenched jaw and white knuckles.
When the great hall doors shut at Mardens leave . “ I am tired of this for the day, I dismiss the rest of this court and will no longer hear any more requests. All may leave now except the members of my council. We have business to attend to.” Cain announces.
The old soldier rose from his cot planting his feet on the grass below, the sound of the morning regimental brass band blaring their horns. All the smells around him came at once like a blast of nostalgia, bring back memories from the aroma of shoe polish the officers subordinates used to diligently shine the boots and saddles of those proud noble men.
“Too proud nowadays if you ask me, war has become a sport for these “chivalrous” men always leading from the back” the folk legend thought to himself.
As strong as the polish’s cleansing scent was nothing could overpowered the musk of men at work, day and night these common men and labourers maintain, guard and build whatever the army demands. They walk along the trampled muddy paths that weave through the seemingly endless amount of tents that varied in levels of disrepair. The old soldier then forces momentary clarity in his mind that usually is racing with thoughts that conflict in his mind. Using this time to begin the burdensome task of dawning the attire he had been known as a legend in his youth for. The armour boar a contrasting mixture of black and shades of gold with a cloak of lions fur resembling a mane as it cascaded down his front. His helm was a blindingly bright and polished gold crafted to form a lion frozen in a snarling expression.
“What use am I in this fight?” His thoughts came barging back into the forefront of his mind.
“Before they came to my store barring a call to arms from Lord McKenna, I was just a common old man grey streaks running through black hair. Wrinkles forming around the corner of my eyes. Skin once darker shades from the sun are now beginning to pale.”
“A greying man who is no use to anyone, why should I fight? “
“My glory days long past muscle and sinuses degraded and lost with age, and laziness. Scared from past battles both won and lost.”
“Countless friends have come and gone and I have mourned for everyone of them, I have serve my time picked up this pathetic country’s bill over and over.” Rage beginning to swell within him.
“Yet, Though I complain about it I would gladly do it all again for my people. “
“Are they all my people? “ he suddenly thought.
“With my brothers and my community I feel at home, but outside that community I am more commonly looked down on and greeted with cold looks. “ Suddenly all of that nostalgia that filled him with warmth earlier was replaced with bitter spite.
“An animal in the eyes of some.” He continued with his back and forth.
“I have been on many quests, slain the greatest of foes, from dragons, dark fiends, the scourge, and any enemy of my people is an enemy of mine. I will always take up arms for the cause, but what even is the cause anymore?“ further down this stream thoughts he went still conflicted by his decision.
“The noble rally people for position only to perpetuate the woes of its lower class.”
“Shouldn’t I let this shithole burn to the ground and build from its ashes? Sounds good of course, but what would it truly accomplish?”
“The pain and suffering of thousands for what? “
“A gamble that, by the time the dust settles someone will figure out a solution to the oldest problems of this country that go as far back as this country’s creation.“
The old soldier finally goes to reaches out and part the entrance of his tent. He takes a moment for his eyes to adjust from the sudden glare of the sun just peaking over the hill tops in the distance. When he is finally able to make out shapes he was suddenly confronted with many surprised faces as they walked along on their daily routine, wide eyed and open mouths in awe of the giant golden warrior that emerged from the tent behind him.
“I do this for them.” The old warrior says to himself, with all the confidence he could muster.
His eyes now fully adjusted settle on the horizon, a thick cloud of smoke bellows from behind the rolling hills that surrounds this area. That smoke is the reason the king called his army out here and the prince called me. The now wreckage that was once a large trading hub, known as the town of Grens. The scourge have now laid waste to it after a valiant attempt by the Grens people to defend the town, but unfortunately they fell two nights ago.
“What scum of the earth” he thought.
Creatures of hate, who thrive on the despair of others. Pale white mixed with bright highlights of orange, a malformed humanoid creature. With a glutinous gullet, small eyes and swollen heads they were once a proud race that was sat at the peak of civilisation for centuries till they were corrupted by their own power and greed. Now their kind just roam in large pacts across the continent consuming, raping and pillaging.
“Even under these circumstances those so called nobles still wouldn’t of roused me from the comfortable life I had made for myself, but when a good friend, and man as great as Prince McKenna calls for aid I must answer. To protect the realm shoulder to shoulder with the last honourable man left in the nobility.” His thoughts settled thinking of it.
“To battle then.” He finally resigned.
With a sudden jerk to life I awoke, in what seemed to be one of those ye oldie Middle Ages style town with a massive castle to top it off. The first thing that struck me was the smell of the town streets and now my clothes, it reeked of piss, shit, and booze. Thatched or tile roofs ran along in rows alternating occasionally atop clay shop front with sellers peddling their goods. It continued like this for a mile leading up to a huge hill that the castle sits on. It’s gold ornaments gleamed so bright in the sun that it was almost blinding if you were to be caught head on. The stone that formed the majority of the castle structure itself was a striking white giving a sense of purity that radiated down over the entire town.
As I finally situated myself and began to assess where and when I am, starting by coming up with a rough time period and location using the the little knowledge I have on the subject.
“Can’t be in America” I thought as I looked about myself
“maybe Europe?”
I haven’t the slightest ability to communicate with anyone that doesn’t speak English, and even then depending on how far back; old English might even be a challenge.
Suddenly my thoughts were interrupted by one of the sellers jumping in front of me dressed in renaissance period clothing, was my best guess worn and stained around the collar.
“Dear sir,” he began.
“You must hail from a foreign lands dressed as you are” he said with a devilish grin.
He was wore what was once a finely groomed moustache now accompanying the first hints of a scraggly beard. His hair was slowly growing wild but kept slicked back with sweat and some sort of binding agent. All of which is a peppery colour, a mix of brown, grey and white.
“You clearly come from wealth with such fine stitchings and jewellery “ he continues eyes locked on to my signet ring and bracelets
“Allow me to proved the service as a guide.” He chirped.
He seems a bit slippery I thought to myself, but he might be my only way to find out any information I can about where I am.
I nodded with a smile.
“Great! So what brings you to the great city of Camelot my lord? Oh is it parlay vue de France? “ he stared inquisitively.
“English is fine” I finally said.
“And to answer your question I happen to be here to speak with the great wizard merlin, there are many stories told about him where I’m from as well as the King Arthur.”
He let out a chuckle “well today must be my lucky day.”
“My new best friend must be nobility if he thinks one may appear so easily before the great king of kings himself!” He looks at me with an eyebrow raised.
“...Well how how would one traditionally go about speaking to the king?” I finally let out awkwardly trying to hide my nervousness. Not sure how long I can keep this rouse up.
We continued down the shopping market, I was careful to stay on the long walkways of wooden planks. Luckily they were there though, the planks were sitting top a thick and gloopy mixture of human waste, booze and mud.
“For a fairy tale kingdom it seems pretty rundown.” I thought to myself.
He pondered while we walked, concentrating hard, or at least giving the appearance of someone taking their time to consider a response to a question. All the while rang the constant bustling noise of peddling traders and engaging in heated bartering in the background.
“Well I would say the only way to speak to my lord Arthur is to be one of his great knights of the grail.”
“He is not usually friendly to foreigners” he shrugs.
“More of the divide and conquer type. When he’s not off hunting for the grail.”
“Fine then I will become a knight, so I can speak with his majesty!” I said with almost too much enthusiasm.
“This is sweet. Always loved fantasy” I thought to myself.
“And you, my BEST friend” I emphasised.
“Are going to help me along my adventure, I promise it will be worth while.” I said, a lie of course I’m not sure anything will come of this but it’s my only way home that I can think of.
A samurai rides horse back into a small village pursued by an assassin sent by a rival. Along the way into town he notices a flower deep purple and specked with white. “my what a beautiful flower .“ he remarks but thinks nothing more of it as he races to his destination. The village in question is said to be the home of a famous herbalist and medicine man. As he approaches the village he remarks to himself that it resembles any traditional edo period town, beautiful in any season, but especially in the winter. Smoke rises from thatched houses blanketed in a thick layer of snow only disturbed by the tracks of its citizens going about their day. As beautiful as it was, the 13 or so houses surrounded in farmland did not seem like the place for such a famous man as this herbalist, he thought as he rode through town. Thankfully at this time of day the foot traffic was at its lowest, with most in for supper and the warmth of a hearth. He finally arrives at his destination, the estate of the herbalist a large temple like building hidden behind a dirty road and thick bushes. The front of the estate flaunted zen gardens and reflecting ponds, common among the rich at the time. He dashed in through the courtyard along a stone path carefully weaving to avoid any display beautiful lawn art and stone decorations. Finally, he reaches the front door. Dashing through, eyes frantically searching till they finally came upon a finely dressed elderly man in a yellow silk kimono patterned in storks and water lily filled ponds. He was wrinkled in a way that almost embodied wisdom with a long flowing moustache and soul patch. The samurai drops to his knees in front of the herbalist and begs “please you must help me my wife is dying of crimson fever and I need something to cure her ailments.” The herbalist face settled from shock to a smile, and tells him to rise “of course I will help you my good man what you require is a potion made with a nebulous lily a beautiful flower it’s said to reflect the deepness of space specked with the stars.” “But first come let us speak some about my services.” He invites the samurai to sit and have tea as the samurai calms and rests from his long journeys. The herbalist goes on to say “usually it is rare to find one of these Lily’s, but you are in luck because I happen to be growing one that is ready for harvest, we can go at once.” The samurai was overjoyed, he pays the herbalist for his help and they begin to make their way to the site of the flower. As they arrive the samurai begins to feel strange and worry, but thinks nothing of it with the cure for his wife just in steps away. As they arrive the samurai jumps off his horse and hurry’s toward the location of the lily. As he nears he see a familiar flower the beautiful flower he saw on his ride, suddenly he falls to the ground foaming from the mouth. The herbalist kneels down and says “Hanoi sends his regards.”
