'Breathe.'
'Breathe.'
'Breathe.'
It was all Samira could think to do as she was in shackles, in a place she didn't know, being presented to she didn't know whom. She had been sold before, to a noble in Dessix, but this man was powerful…. Whoever it was that bought her this time was rich enough to have a servant to fetch her… and a servant to receive her once she got there. She heard the men on horseback talking as she walked behind them. He was Master. No one the entire trail dared say his name.
The country stone road was cold on her tired, callused, bare feet, and it didn't help that it was raining slush. On either side of the road was thick forest with large trees. Every so often, one would hear rustling. It was enough to keep her from daring to think about escape. It would be certain death by some wild animal, obviously being kept at bay by the men with weapons.
She shivered violently to no one else's' concern in the cold, chained to 26 other slaves of varying races and sexes, but she was the most petite out of them all… this was a bad thing if they wanted her for what her previous master wanted her for. He had bought Samira for hard labor in his coal mine, and had bought her on accident. He tried keeping her for other chores, but just didn't need a woman….
That was the world Samira was forced to endure since her family couldn't pay their debts. They promised they would come for her, but no one so much as visited. Who would pay such a hefty price of 2 month's wages for a peasant girl? A third born no less. She was attractive, and if she were a noble, she would have been married by now, but she was the daughter of a mere laborer. Perhaps before all this, she could have caught the eyes of a soldier or even a merchant if she would have ever had the money to go shopping, but that would not happen now.
Her deep chocolate curls were slightly wet, her sparkling hazel eyes attracted the attention of many men who wanted her for their concubine, or brothel whore if she was unlucky, but she was saved, in a way, by the circumstances that led her here…. being glared a warning for slowing down. She ran to pick up her pace a bit, but fatigue was setting in. Her stomach also timely growled; they had been walking 6 hours now, but she could tell they were getting close. She only knew this because of the chatter, but she had more pressing matters on her mind each step.
Samira didn't know what noble house she was to be presented to, but she had walked directly behind a horse and was tired and filthy. Her tattered brown dress was already falling apart, and the whipping wind made it hard to see. However, she kept chanting to herself in her thoughts, and dared not slow her pace or She would get the whip, like the others who thought to defy the man on the horse.
She could only see his back, but it was broad. He had on a hat, presumably to shield him somewhat from the rain and his eyes as he rode high, whip at the ready. He didn't talk to them; his partner did that. Upon the gray mare rode a thinner, more talkative man who also held a whip, but rarely used it. He would often go from the front of the train to the back to keep everyone quiet and in line. She feared them both. She had learned a slave's position was to be unseen, unheard, and obedient. She had little freedom before, but this was undoubtably worse. How much worse could it be…. How ruthless would Master be?
She prayed to the Ten with all her might it wasn't any noble of the house Thetas…. They were rumored to be the most cruel. They ruled the sovereign states of Hemlock, as well as Sunflower, with an iron fist, and had no qualms about beating a peasant to death for something as simple as a mistake on their lunch. She shivered at the thought. She didn't know properly how to be a slave… and a mistake there would cost her her life.
Suddenly, the man started leading them off the main road, and down a smaller cobblestone path that led into the forest. She became beyond nervous; it could only mean that she was entering the grounds of the manor of Master. The rain was getting worse, and as cold as it was, at least it was washing the dirt off her. It soaked her to the bone, but she was grateful. She assumed that Master would be angry with them if they were filthy and tracking mud in his home. She prayed again, that if she was to live her life this way, at least let her job be one she already knew how to do.
Suddenly, her feeble prayers were interrupted by the sound of a trotting horse. A thin man on a black horse appeared into view of the now misty, slightly curved path. He tipped his hat, and smiled a grin that made the hair on the back of Samira's head stand up. There was something about him that made her more nervous than the men who already intimidated her.
"K.R., Master wants half of these to go to the kitchen for the feast." Said the rider.
"Then unhook the train and take them." Said the broad man without hesitation, nor slowing the pace of his horse. The man was built like a wall, impressive, and strong from many years of battle. His thick brown hair was cut too short to see, but if he took off his hat, it would cascade to his shoulders.
The thin man grunted, and the riders stopped. He got off his horse and looked at her as if she were cattle. He then walked to the back of the train and counted 13, and took the back half of the train. She was grateful, as they would be the first to receive attention from the Master. If he did appear, it would be then, to assess the quality of his new stock. She would likely be guaranteed domestic labor now, she hoped.
They walked slower than the now split train, so that they would arrive later, and she was a bit relieved. She still didn't know who master was, but her nerves were tempered a bit knowing that no noble would waste their time on examining their stock twice. The Rider knew more. L.R. and K.R had worked for Master for years. They knew his tastes, and they knew that the first set of servants were probably fed do his dogs if they had even the slightest resistance. He liked to hear the screams….
K.R. almost felt pity for the one who walked in front. She was frail and thin. She was fair skinned too, so she would blister in the sun, and would be raw from scrubbing pots, because he could see no calluses. The worst job she could get would be most likely to be in the house, under the eyes of Master. He was a tyrant, holding true to his house's name, and bringing death wherever he went in search of conquest. L.R. stayed in the house more, and even though his disposition was naturally brighter, he wouldn't talk for hours upon spending time with Master Thetas. They both just wanted this to be over, they wouldn't even stay to get out the rain. Whatever he did to them, would be their own problem. He thought.