Led by the Publicani, the wagon slowly made its way down the slope of the bowl-like basin and into the first rows of tents marking the camp's exterior. As they stopped, Kalen and the others witnessed a man in bound leather armor coming up to the Publicani on horseback.
Both of the men jumped off of their horses and approached each other. Though a distance away from the wagon now, they were still within earshot, which allowed Kalen to listen in on their conversation.
"Todd."
The man who had come out from the camp spoke first.
"Lars."
The arms of the two men locked together, shaking hands in a powerful motion. After a quick greeting, the man called Lars jutted his chin forward at the Publicani.
"How'd it go in the village? What was it called again…Larunda?"
The Publicani shook his head.
"We actually had to pass by Larunda, as by the time we got there, it was nothing but cinders."
"The Volk?"
The Publicani, or rather Todd, nodded with an expression that Kalen couldn't see from the wagon. Lars shook his head, spitting on the ground beside them in disgust as he spoke.
"Godforsaken beasts! I swear on Vermeil, the next time I see one of those mutts I'll take its hide myself for all the tributes we've missed out on because of them!"
Todd nodded. He expressed his agreement, but didn't seem to be as passionate about the affair as his comrade.
"So instead we went further south, almost to the border with Arkhos. There was a village there called Yurth. And as you can see, the tribute from there went well enough."
Todd motioned back to their wagon as he handed a small piece of parchment to Lars. The leather-bound soldier held it up closely before checking it against the wagon's occupants.
"An old man, a child, and two of prime working age: a man and a woman."
Lars squinted as he looked over Todd's shoulder.
"You sure that one's alright? Rick is not going to appreciate it if you've brought one of them to the camp. You remember what happened to Jerry?"
Kalen quickly looked away before he made eye contact with the man called Lars, aware they were now talking about him.
'Is this going to be a repeat? Why does everyone care? What is everyone so concerned about?'
Todd waved the man's worries away.
"Relax. He's human. I personally checked myself."
Lars snorted.
"What, with the ear method? Not for nothing, Todd, but I'll check him before this group proceeds to the camp. You're a good swordsman, and in the past you've made some great collections, but at times like this I think your history in the army has hindered you. You can't always think just by-the-book you know? Come on, bring him forth."
Kalen's mind swam as he was pulled from the grasp of Layla who had just woken up. One of the soldiers dismounted and brought Kalen before the two men. A sense of anxiety for what was to come flared in the boy's mind.
Lars eyed him carefully.
"A man of working age?"
Todd coughed.
"Well, he's a little young, but with those purple features he'll surely sell better, don't you think?"
"Sell better? What is he, a house slave? No, look at his frame! With that physique no one in their right mind would send him anywhere besides the arena! And those acquisition rates are fixed, no matter if he has strange features."
Lars looked back to Todd, seeing the man relent.
"But I still have to check whether or not he'll be sent there at all."
Lars reached across his belt and took out a small blade. Before Kalen could even flinch, the man stepped forward and dragged its edge along the side of his arm.
"Ah!"
Kalen involuntarily yelped. The sudden action had surprised him, and although he had been struck before by Old Marshall during training, the feeling was entirely different.
Kalen watched as the blade was pulled back by Lars, seeing now that it bore a serrated edge. Not just that, but the dagger itself featured ingrained markings across the flat of its blade. The lines formed small channels through which Lars and Kalen watched the droplets of his blood flow.
Kalen looked at the dagger cautiously. It was catching up to him now that the drawing of blood was some sort of test. With these Imperials, his humanity seemed to constantly be in question, and the man before him appeared to have a more precise way of determining that than merely checking his ears.
But after a moment, his blood in the channels of the dagger ran dry, and a red mist evaporated into the air.
"Hmm, he's clear."
Todd nodded his head. Seeing that Lars' business with one of the slaves was more or less finished, he beckoned the rest of the wagon to be brought over.
"The rest of you, come down as well! It's time you join the rest of the group!"
Kalen looked behind him as he watched his sister get off of the wagon. Behind her the old man and Ayana walked with grim expressions.
"Alright, now that that's settled…right?"
Todd the Publicani looked at the leatherbound Lars.
"Yes, though I'm still confused on why this one looks like that. But…I suppose it's inconsequential now. I won't hinder your return any longer Todd, go collect your commission."
Todd thanked him, and was finally able to look back to the group. The four people he had enslaved as tribute looked back at him with a mixture of negative emotions.
"Good. So now that that's settled, let's welcome you all into your temporary home!"
…
Kalen and the others were swiftly led through the rows of tents to join the rest of the camp's prisoners. Along the way, Kalen was able to catch glimpses of the sort of place he had led his sister and himself to.
A crowd of leather-clad people had surrounded a muddy swath of the camp, where they shouted and watched two men in iron collars fight each other.
"Beat his skull in David!"
"Knock him down!"
The soldiers were leading Kalen and the others by spearpoint, but he was still allowed to catch glimpses of the action at his side. He could see through the crowd the slender figure of a man caked in mud as he heaved a large rock over himself. The following motion shocked everyone as he slammed it downward onto the unprotected head of his opponent and fellow slave.
SQUELCH
With a loud crack, the sound of something being smashed rang out. Tremors of approval and annoyance ran through the crowd in equal measure. The reactions of those who had bet in the slaves favor, and those who had not.
"There goes my drinking money!"
A chorus of laughter erupted next to the first voice. But soon after more disgruntled onlookers began to vie for a second round.
"Fifty gold bits to whoever kills that skinny son of a bitch!"
"Sixty bits to whoever kills the one who kills him!"
Several members of the crowd began to look at one another with seething expressions, but by then Kalen's group had already moved on.
In another part of the camp, the four of them had been made to stop, as the rope fixes that bound their wrists were replaced with different restraints.
"Kally…"
"It's okay, I know it's a tight fit, but bear with me Layla."
Kalen tried to comfort his sister as the metal collars were snapped around their necks. He had begun to prepare himself for the worst, but every silent expression of his little sister that betrayed how distressed she was in this situation made the pit in his stomach grow even more.
"Just relax, and I promise that we'll get out of these as soon as possible."
Kalen bent down as he looked Layla in the eyes. By then, the soldier who was affixing the collars had moved on to Ayana and the old man.
Sniffle
"You promise?"
Layla said in a soft voice. Her eyes were watery.
"Yes, I promise. Layla, do you remember the time-outs that Mom used to give you? When you'd lose your toys out playing, and one of the neighbor's kids would find it a few days later?"
Layla looked down without nodding, but Kalen could tell she had tears that were threatening to fall. Kalen kept speaking to keep them at bay.
"Well, this is like that. It's uncomfortable, but it's only for a little while. We just have to wait for someone to find our toys, okay?"
Finally his sister looked up. With a sniffle, she nodded okay back to him.
"Alright, now don't worry. I won't let anyone split us up."
Kalen said as he rose to his feet. Keeping the small hand of his sister in his grasp, he watched as the collars of Ayana and the elder were fitted. Their expressions showed that they found it just as miserable as his sister, though the added years of lived experience kept tears from forming.
"Alright, everyone new here, come forward!"
Suddenly a voice boomed over them, and they found it belonged to a familiar person, Todd. Kalen looked around himself, to find that beside the four of them, standing before the man was a few other groups of slaves new to the camp.
The Publicani beckoned them forward, making sure to address them before they were sent to the center of the encampment just behind him. This was the space where the majority of the slaves were confined to.
"From here on out, you are all considered property. Whatever you may hear from the others in this camp, how they came to be here or their current treatment, just know that you are now another person's property!"
"Whatever you may perceive as an injustice is no longer so! Under the Empire of Redlanding's law, we have the right to apply you all to whatever field or use we have need of. Should you think about escaping, or conspiring with your fellows, it is also within our complete rights to put you down. So remember that well."
Todd gave them each a hard look before continuing. His eyes were filled with stern warning, that they should feel more than a touch of trepidation before thinking of escape.
"But as freely-born peasants of the Empire, you may still wish to escape from your future duties all the same, so I will leave you with this: know that while it seems you have been torn away from your former lives, in reality this is your second birth! The beginning of the rest of your lives starts in this camp, and you should take it in as such!"
"For some, you may anticipate cruel or harsh conditions ahead, but fear not. Our company is not amongst the most cruel, or greedy, or faithless. We adhere to both the Imperial and Vermillion schools of thought, and everyone should be assured that for slaves, you have won the lottery to be here of all camps."
The Publicani ended his speech with his arms out, as if to display the grandeur of the camp itself. Yet all Kalen saw was the mudslicked ground. The dried blood against the piles of stones. The human waste that littered the areas around the lodgings. And the worn-out and punctured rows of tents that could barely be considered fit for housing their residents.
Even overlooking that, beyond the Publicani laid the center of the camp, which was devoid of any structures at all despite its assembly of men and women in chains. They sat unsheltered. In ratty tunics and skirts, with many wearing expressions devoid of any hope for a better future. Their luck all but wrung out.
So Kalen felt sickened by the thought that the man before them was trying to make their surroundings seem even the smallest bit desirable. What his speech really was, was a clear threat against escaping, and a vain attempt at fostering complacency.
The urge to vomit rose up in Kalen's throat, only stopped as he looked at the face of Layla at his side.