A cool, treasured wind blew through the lonely forest. Leaves danced in the sky while branches reveled in happiness at the opportunity to breathe. At the highest point it would ever hit, the oppressive sun shone down on the tops of every tree in the forest. Most days, the trees would gladly soak up all the sun, but today was different. A majority found the sun's rays to be too much to bear alone. Even with the aid of all around, some burned and crisped, exclaiming in pain. But the cool wind brought well-sought relief to those in turmoil. Of course, except for Ozias.
In the center of the forest was a clear-cut path, slicing the heart of the forest in two. In place of the numerous trees that were previously thriving was a small gravel path extending the forest's length. This was the main path used to cross between the manor and the multiple small cities nearby. After crossing the forest were large plains which extended as far as the eye could see. For the Laruth County, this was the most suitable land to build cities and to grow crops. However, this had been known and used for centuries. By this time in the present, the soil had long since lost its valuable nutrients from soil exhaustion. As such, the county sought to push east to the neighboring country of Tidemark.
Located at the continent's edge, Tidemark was a small mountainous country home to many cliffs and beaches. Over various months throughout the year, the sandy beaches at the bottom of the cliffs would disappear as water flew up towards the sky. During these periods, a strong tide would push up the length of the cliff, sometimes flowing over into the lands nearby. Because of this, the land was unsuitable for farming, and for many months throughout the year, it was also unsuitable for long-term habitation.
Knowing this, many other empires had left the small country to its devices, as all deemed it useless. It could not be used for farming, cities, or even as a port despite it being positioned in the sea. In terms of this world, it was an undesirable piece of garbage that could only be seen as a waste of time. But despite this, the County had still shown interest in invading this country and taking it for itself. The reason for this interest dates back decades, when a legendary sword master ruled Tidemark, allowing it to push its borders out into the territory of the empire, more specifically Laruth. Dealing with a sword master, the count at the time made the tough decision of gifting a portion of their territory to Tidemark in hopes they would be satisfied. Luckily, this had worked quite well for the county at the time. Unfortunately, though, was the unexpected death of the sword master only years later, making Laruth County's sacrifice in vain.
The sword master's death marked a dip in Tidemark's strength, allowing the county to invade and attempt to take back their lost territory. In its efforts, the county had pillaged and slaughtered many villages, one of which was Ozias's hometown. His village was burned and destroyed, and every person living there perished with the sole exception of Ozias.
It was by luck that he had survived, while the rest lay dead in the flourishing fields they tended to every morning. And it was by luck he managed to survive as a young boy in this monstrous world.
A large bump knocked Ozias into consciousness. Minutes ago, he had passed out under the relentless pursuit of the beaming sun. Multiple drops of sweat evaporated from the hard wooden floor of the cage. Currently, the carriage was traveling along the trail that connected the manor to the various cities. Although, even when traveling in the forest, no trees saved him from the harsh rays of the sun; rather, he was forced to bask in its heat.
The two spent two hours traveling from the manor through the forest until finally reaching Lomont, the closest and largest city in the Laruth territory. With the sun lower and the heat beginning to die down, Ozias looked towards the distance and saw the monumental tower walls protecting the bustling cityscape before him. The city was surrounded by large plains towards the east and south but had a seemingly endless forest to its west, connecting with the one they were just in.
The horses pulled into one of the many entrances the walls held. There, guards positioned perfectly to receive the minimum amount of sunlight possible stood with spears double their size in hand. After stating the reason for their visit, the coachman whipped the horses into the bustling city. They traveled under the large rising door and witnessed hundreds walking around.
Shops were positioned to the side while there was a gravel road leading around the city. People walked all over, looking for any free space and searching through multiple small and big shops. Of course, this meant many were flooded on the gravel road, leaving little to no room for the horses to move. Upon witnessing the large carriage, many moved allowing a small path to form for the horses to walk through.
They passed through hundreds of people, many of whom looked over to see the young boy, fitted inside a metal cage. Murmurs flew through the street under the bellows of merchant's. Ozias had not noticed it, their gazes or murmurs. In fact, Ozias was more interested in the modern architecture of the city, being fascinated at the intricate details of the buildings everyone lived under. Eventually, Ozias did notice them. Most people's movement stopped as they cast an eye towards Ozias. They saw his feeble body and the clothes he wore, different from their own.
It was not uncommon for slaves to be brought and sold in the city. Though, rarely were children as young as Ozias brought and sold. But even so, it was the nature of life. Whether he was mistreated, wronged, or even killed, no one cared enough to do anything about it. All they could do was look on, let nature take its course.
After looking toward the architecture, the blazing sun cast its glow into his irises. He held his hand up to block its gaze, to notice the gaze of all. They stared at the young boy with an unfamiliar look. Ozias had expected a look of hate or anger. Rather, their gaze showed a look of sadness, their eyes shone with pity.
Never in his life had he received such a thing as that gaze. Was he so lowly that he needed that look? Did he seem so disheveled that that gaze became necessary. Was this all they could offer, a useless look of pity!? Never once had he received it until now, but he knew just from this one occurrence that he would rather die than receive it again. Red spread onto Ozias's face as he began to glare at the onlookers. His sharp eyes pierced through them as they eventually continued their buying. However, one big bodied man continued to stare at the boy. He held no pity or hate, rather, he sneered at the boy. His cheeks had a light reddish hue while he carried a canteen full of alcohol. They both stared at each other for a moment, each one recognizing the expression the other was making. The fat man waltzed over to Ozias, his body somehow blocking the rays of the sun. Arriving, he put his hands through the cage and gripped onto Ozias's shirt from the collar.
"Who are you to be starin at me like that, ya dirty slave!?!"
"Let go, ya drunkard!"
The man pulled Ozias to the edge of the cage before pulling his hand with the canteen up, ready to strike it down.
"Let go of that boy! He is property of the countess herself."
The coachman's scream went in vein as the sound got stuck between the folds of his fat. Moments later, the man swung down while Ozias punched towards his face.
Because of the man's proximity, Ozias was able to pound the man through the gaps of the full metal bars, just as the man smashed his canteen onto the top of his head. The hits landed at the same moment, but the force of Ozias's punch deformed the man's face and pushed him back, causing him to collapse onto the floor. Blood trickled down Ozias's head onto the gap between his eyes and nose. Next to him, Ozias noticed the canteen, which had slipped from the man's hands when Ozias punched him. Quickly, before the coachman could realize it, he hid it under his shirt while the coachman examined the fat man.
Rather than help, the coachman looked down on him and spat, all before walking back to guide the horses. Like that, with no other occurrence, they passed through the city and reached the mines that Ozias would call home.