Chereads / Pathfinder: Schools, Myth & Magic / Chapter 2 - Chapter 2 Servitude 

Chapter 2 - Chapter 2 Servitude 

Chapter 1 Servitude

Rough, uneven landscape jerked the wagon up and down as it trailed behind the two others of a similar kind. Men and women in assorted gear walked on the outer region, their eyes scanning the woodland spread around them.

His eyes fluttered open. Bright sunlight and decaying verdant assaulted his aroused senses as he drew himself backward hurriedly, gulping down mouthfuls of air. Soon a rush of memories assaulted his mind. Raymond Valentine, failure, couldn't cultivate because of an injury upon birth. He hesitated briefly before placing his grime-covered palm against his naval region. His supernatural senses plunge inside, a method from his steadily streaming memories of one of his many incarnations he was steadily recalling. Satisfied with his finding, he resurfaced and began to take in his surroundings.

He was crammed inside of a slow-moving wagon with others of similar appearances. Glancing outside, he noted the dark-colored trees. This is the westernmost region of the Dark Wood, he recalled immediately. He rummaged through this incarnation's recollections, but he couldn't remember anything particular about this woodland he awoke in, but its sought-after darkly colored trees. 'Not that it mattered,' he thought, tugging on the metal collar around his neck. It seems I'm to be tested earlier than usual with this collar.

"Took a beating and survived," a silver-haired man propped against the other end of the wagon; like him, he had a metallic collar around his neck, yet he seemed slightly different. The man has Golden eyes assessing him. "I was almost sure your body was cooling in that corner of the pen."

"Kid, must have the vitality stat unlocked, right?" Said a badly beaten woman who had her hands bound behind her to the cage. Her blouse ripped open, leaving her exposed. She caught his wandering eyes and chuckled derisively.

He looked away from the woman as an indescribable feeling of wrongness emerged in him. She noticed this but shrugged her shoulders. This was the way of the world

"It happens, kid." She asserted.

"Worst is bound to happen to all of us." Intoned the silver-haired man. His golden irises stare into the thick overgrowth and massively tall dark trees.

He performed a few checks and concluded he was being blocked from viewing his status. He could only determine his body situation had changed. He would be able to cultivate and discern his talent, but if it was still mediocre, he could still level up by defeating demonic beasts and men alike.

He knew one thing, he wouldn't be someone's slave.

Minutes turned into hours, and hours turned into days. The slave convoy grew more extensive and even more impressive as the different bands of slavers met up and predisposed locations. Some of the slaves were offloaded into the leading wagon. He couldn't make out the inhabitants' appearance but could guess that particular wagon must be exceptional individuals.

He awoke abruptly with the clanging of metal against the bars of his prison as a slaver made his rounds and tossed more stale bread and apples into the cage; water was a bucket that reeked of human excitement. He didn't drink the water. The cage creaked open, and the lady was pushed back in her appearance worse now than it was a month ago. He witnessed what the men did to her. They were in one of the last wagons, which meant the occupants were least important.

The golden-eyed man with the silver hair was strange. All the occupants seemed to be the most healthy, and he appeared unbothered. He thought on his next move over the months but couldn't come up with a plan of escape, but the man must have something up his sleeves

"Do you have a plan?" he asked the man, causing the decadent eyes of the occupants to sparkle. He assumed he wasn't the only one that noticed the man's demeanor.

The silver-haired man laughed, a quiet, healthy laugh at that. "Who me?" he gestured by bringing his shackled hands to his chest. "You Jest child. I'm as trapped and screwed as the lot of you." He retorted.

The lady attempted to add something but began coughing and voiding the contents of her stomach. He and the others looked away, trying to protect her modesty the best way they could.

I looked from her back to him, only for him to be observing me In-kind.

"Kid, remember to brace," His jaw was firm, and all mirth was gone from his tone. "Brace, you all. Remember to brace." He repeated as he leaned back against the cage, his chains rattling loosely around him.

Things grew silent as the slavers' guards grew closer to the wagon, blades in hand. Magical lanterns and orbs alight glowed ever so brightly as the encroaching darkness began to superimpose over the new region they entered. He heard murmurs and silent prayers, but a word stood out amongst the scared shots.

The Bowels of Birbrook.

The landscapes went from hard to sloshing. The marshlands echoed with haunting wild sounds that made everyone's hair, along their arms, rise.

"Fools." muttered the bruised lady.

"Why would they take this route?" A man wailed in horror.

"To avoid patrols, maybe even highwaymen hot spots or the competition. It Doesn't matter. The moment they took this, God-awful route, they sealed their and majority of our fates." He intoned the last words like a message and made eye contact.

Beastial Shrikes arose from the swampland. A bright lance fire arched into the darkness enshrouding a hideous creature in the magical fire as it hissed and submerged its enormous bulk. Men and women ran about, engaging a viciously stealthy creature. Slavers began vanishing from their position.

"Get the fucking baits out the wagon, Hurry!!" an authoritative voice boomed over the death cries of the swampland.

It hit me at that moment. I turned to the silver-haired man, which he only nodded subduedly. The battered lady had her arms linked around the bars, and others decided to do the same. Forewarned as I was, I, too, linked my arms.

The doors were pulled open by a contingent of guards; each had a twin-pronged spear. "Get Out, you filthy slags." The guards began to stab into the flesh of closer slaves and pulled them out, leaving previous wounds as they did.

Chains rattled, and loud voices boomed around, accompanied by many bestial shrieks.

Bulbous eyes gleam atop this creature's malformed toad-like head. An uncountable amount of warts and bumps decorate its greenish wet skin. I looked ahead incredulously. The damp earth, the wagon, and the guards at the door are all pushed upward by explosive strength. My arms continued to hold the wagon as I felt more than seen that the risen trajectory had ended

I squeezed my eyes shut and braced. The wagon began its descent