"The suspected accomplice behind my father's assassination has been staying in the prison since the day I sat as the duke of this household." Zavier laid the documents on the table beside the vase. Taking a tobacco and lighting it up, he inhaled and blew some air. "How's the questioning going so far?"
"The maid still insists on her innocence," Felix replied.
Looking back at the documents, the file of the maid is among them. She has been a mercenary for quite some time and has had enough successful missions. This may be her first failure yet.
Zavier pressed the tobacco tip and burned the picture of the maid in the resume. Smoke oozed as a mix of burnt paper and tobacco filled the air.
"Kill the maid. But before killing her, tell her all the information you have gathered."
Zavier then looked coldly at Felix, making Felix break a sweat. Fierce and calm anger blazed upon his eyes.
"Execute her in the worst possible way."
**********
Zavier never managed to sleep that night. He reviewed the files of the mercenary members again and again. He recalled everything Felix told him regarding all the information. Among the files, a secret invitation was included.
Looking back at the rest of their conversation last night, Felix told him that they secured an invitation to the auction thanks to the masterful disguise of one of the Seekers. The poison used to assassinate the duke will be sold there by 11:00.
Soon, light entered the horizon from afar. Zavier closed his eyes and steadied his breathing. He had made up his mind.
William entered the room right after knocking gently only to be surprised to see Zavier sitting on the chair with files disorganized on the small round table.
Looking at his master's complexion, he pressed his temple as he scolded him, his voice laced with worry.
"Your grace, it's already morning and you seem to have no ounce of sleep yet. Won't it be nice to just listen to this humble servant at once–"
"William," Zavier spoke in a serious voice. William went silent before answering. "Yes, your grace?"
"Tell Felix to prepare a carriage. And call the knights to the courtyard. I'll be choosing people to accompany me to the Mermaid Isles."
*******
In a distant ship sailing towards the Mermaid Isles.
A bald man with a huge build went to the underground room of the ship where slaves were kept in huge cells. He shouted and clanged some kitchen utensils, waking the slumbering slaves.
"Wake up retards! It's time for your breakfast!"
He continuously clanged the wooden spoon against the cover of the pot. Another man with a much leaner build from the upper deck appeared, assisting the huge man. He kicked the cellars, waking the slumbering, weary salves from their rest.
"Wake up you fools! Your food is here!"
The slaves woke up from the noise. They immediately rose up and hastily took their empty, filthy, bowls, and lined them up behind the bars, ready to be filled. Others struggled as they crawled with heavy chains on their wrists just to get their fill. The bald man opened the cover and began pouring each bowl one serving of cold soup. The small guy clicked his tongue in annoyance as he glared at them.
"You bastards, be grateful that the master is still merciful, giving you last night's share. Fatten yourselves up and get yourselves some good masters!" The bald man sneered. His face plastered a mean, insulting expression. By "good masters", he meant nobles who would buy them for a huge amount of Zenos.
In the empire, the number of Zenos a person can afford determines their status, whether they are from nobility, a common noble (merchants, barons, priests), or the commoners. Commoners are people who can afford a few zenos. Common nobles have several gold coins that they can afford to purchase lands and villas. The nobles are a different story as they have been people born with gold spoons in their mouths.
As the starving slaves ate their fill, the lean guy noticed a small silhouette crouched in the corner. He called him but the small figure crouched even more. He lifted his eyes and peaked at his feasting companions. Yet he didn't move and feasted with them.
The lean man clicked his tongue. "It ain't our problem if we lose another one. Starve to death you ungrateful brat!" He kicked the prison bars, causing some soups to spill. Some of them staggered due to the force as the bars rattled. Spitting on their soups, he laughed before leaving the cellar with his companion.
"Phu! This place reeks!"
The two left the cellar. The sunlight that lit the dark cellar was gone in a flash. The ship rocked against the waves as the cellar turned silent once again.
Weariness and hopelessness were plastered on the faces of the individuals. Their eyes were devoid of life. One stuck her lips on the floor to eat the spilled soup. However, another slave argued with her.
"Hey! That's not from your bowl."
Nonetheless, the young girl continued licking the spoiled soup on the floor. The other slave hysterically claimed the soup as hers and began attacking the other one. A dispute occurred as the hysterical one continuously screamed she pulled the hair of the other one and scratched her. The girl lying on the floor fought back by pulling her hair and pushing her face away as she kicked the person above her. The peasants in the other cells began chanting as they cheered on the two girls hurting each other.
Meanwhile, another peasant, a young boy with long red hair looked at the two juveniles fighting over the spoiled soup. He muttered,
"Where do they find the energy to fight?"
He sighed and turned towards the young boy crouched in the corner. He stood up and sat beside him. The young one curled his toes and avoided the fellow minor. The red hair took something from his pocket and gave him a piece of hard bread.
"It's from last night's share. I figured you wouldn't eat again and nobody would give you their share," he spoke. The young boy was silent.
"It's quite a miracle you can survive while eating less than most of us. I guess you can thank me for that huh?"
Silence ensued between the two. Ever since this guy was taken in by the slave traders a few days ago before sailing, he never spoke a word. When others tried communicating with him, he never replied to their words or ridicule.
"You know, others here may ridicule you for your appearance or race…but I won't." His voice was filled with compassion as he continued.
"I know the feeling of being discriminated against. I have been discriminated against in our town before for being red-headed. They said I was cursed and that I brought disaster to the village. Well, it might be true since everyone connected to me always ends up getting hurt, including my mom."
He laughed as if to sway the hurt. Nonetheless, he looked down as his eyes wavered. He muttered, enough to be heard by the person beside him. "Did I choose to be born? Why would they blame every misfortune on someone who looks different?"
They seem to be in their world as they stare at the scenes in front of them. The ruckus was getting quite serious and some slaves stopped the fighting. Their voices were getting too loud the traders might come back and reprimand them. As both of them watched the scenes unfold, the quiet one spoke in a meek, slightly high-pitched voice.
"I missed my mom."
The red-haired minor was surprised to hear his voice. 'He spoke!' he thought to himself but he remained silent and listened.
"I missed my mom so much." Small sobs echoed yet he controlled himself. The red-haired boy smiled bitterly.
"It must be nice to have someone waiting for you back home."
The young boy sobbed quietly and then answered.
"She's not home, we were separated by force."
The red-head was taken aback. Awkwardly, he scratched his head. "A-Ah I see. My bad."
It was awkward as no one dared to talk. After some time, he broke the atmosphere extended his hand.
"I'm Xeon. What's yours?"
The timid youngster looked at him. Xeon noticed the color of his irises. They were translucent blue. He hadn't met someone with beautiful blue eyes. The boy pulled down the green scarf wrapped around his neck, revealing his youthful face.
"Orion."