by Ian Rodgers
“My father… may have traded in more than just spices and such,” Kari revealed. “Yes, he worked with the Merchant-Prince, but he also did some shadier business with the Scam King on the side. Made him a few enemies. Any one of them could have been the one to sell me out.”
“Scam King?”
“Also known as the Golden Illusionist, he’s one of the major crime bosses in the Crawling Coast,” Kari explained. “Has a similar reputation up there as the Tower Lords of Annod Bol have down here.”
Dora nodded to herself thoughtfully. “I want to feel hurt and shocked that you’d try and go behind my back like this, but to be honest, I can’t blame you. But I do feel ashamed that even if the lives of the caravan’s crew weren’t on the line, I would still hand you over.”
“I understand completely,” Kari said softly. “This business does things to you. Even if I’d just started to delve into the darker aspects of my father’s company, I was already losing a lot of my empathy. Money talks, and you can’t let your emotions make any noise so you can listen to it.”
That depressing note was how the pair ended the evening. There wasn’t much else they could do, given that the sun had descended during their conversation.
As the two prepared for bed, tension hung thick in the air. And all of it, Dora knew, was because of the city in the distance.
.
The next morning the Yellowmoon Menagerie moved off towards Annod Bol under a cloud of tense silence. The slaves trembled in fear, the crew muttered amongst themselves.
Eventually the object of their mood came into full view, and Dora openly gaped in awe at the massive settlement.
“Behold Annod Bol, the City of Slaves,” Rindel murmured, his tone respectful but wary.
Dora didn’t bother to hide her shiver of unease as she took in the cyclopean towers that rose into the dull, lifeless sky.
The architecture was unusual and alien looking, unlike anything she had ever seen or heard of. The walls were smooth and seemed to be seamless, as if carved from a single gargantuan block of stone. They were stained grey by the dust and ash of the Cracked Land, but in places the original surface could be seen, revealing a terracotta-like material.
The result was the wall appeared to be spattered with massive spots of dried blood. It only added to the surreal, uneasy feel of the city.
Towering above the walls were the six most noticeable landmarks of the city; a sextet of tall, oblong pillars of an unknown, black substance. None of them were capped by anything, every single tower’s top was flat, as if a massive blade had sheared the tops off long ago.
Each tower was large enough to fit a town’s worth of people inside them, and giant, colorful banners decorated the exterior, proclaiming who owned each one.
Last, but not least, was the gate to the city itself. It was clearly a new addition, as it was made of local dark grey stone and had a more human sense of style to it as opposed to the monolithic and inhuman design of the towers and walls. The road that led to it was now of much better quality, and was choked with travelers coming in, or trying to leave.
.
Once the Menagerie made it into the flow of traffic, a loud murmuring filled the air. Some of the merchants looked surprised to see the emblem of the caravan. The yellow crescent moon had been gone from Annod Bol for many a year, now.
Rumors were no doubt circulating as to why they had returned.
“I didn’t know Holt and the boss were so well known,” Dora said, unnerved by the attention they were receiving.
“They may not look it, but each of them have their own fearsome reputations in the city. Not to mention the Menagerie is rather well-known for procuring all kinds of rare and dangerous monsters. If anything, it’s the fact we only have a single animal with us that is making people talk,” Rindel said.
Glancing away from the sea of people around her, the half-orc’s gaze caught on something up ahead. Above the gateway someone had long ago carved sloppy words into the arch’s keystone. In mangled Elder Tongue, the phrase “Lira em ar sut gilder” had been emblazoned as the city’s unofficial motto.
“Life is the only currency,” Dora translated under her breath.
“Terrifying, is it not?” Rindel said with a forced chuckle. “Get ready, because we are about to enter the most reviled city in the world.”
Under the arch they went, Kari shivering as the shadow of the gate passed over her. Dora remained staring ahead, taking in the sights of the city.
Her first thought was one that seemed impossible. ‘Clean.’ If any word could describe the interior of Annod Bol, it was that.
As strange as some of the buildings were, all of them were clean. Only the thinnest trace of dust could be seen anywhere, and the dirt that was tracked in by the wagons, horses, and people seemed out of place.
“It takes a legion of slaves to keep this place clean,” Rindel confided to the two women. “Every night they work to sweep and mop and scrub the entrance and the districts around the towers themselves. With so many slaves and people here at once, hygiene is of the utmost importance.”
“That sounds like an effort in futility,” Kari muttered. Dora could only nod in agreement. The gnome simply shrugged.
The Yellowmoon Menagerie pushed on, moving through the wide boulevard towards the towers in the center of the city. Shops of all kinds littered their way, displaying all manner of goods.
Exotic foodstuffs and elegant clothes and bolts of fabric were shown alongside masterwork weapons and armor, and jewelry glittered next to artwork.
And the closer to the six towers the group got, the more the stores’ wares were dedicated to slaves and their upkeep.
Dora saw a shop that provided medical checkups, another that offered education courses for slaves to learn assorted skills like reading, writing, and arithmetic, and one that made her jaw drop as she glanced from it to Rindel in disbelief.
“Ah, yes, that one.” Rindel coughed into his hand. “Well, you know that Bloodline Traits are highly valued, correct? Well, sometimes a person wants to make an investment and try to preserve a specific one. Or maybe someone wants a slave that is smarter, stronger, or more beautiful than is currently available. The Tree of Blood is a store that caters to ‘slave husbandry.’”
“Do you think I’ll end up in there?” Kari whispered in fear, the young woman biting her lower lip hard enough to draw blood.
Rindel said nothing, his silence all the more damning for the fact that he would not put something like that past Dominick Krave.
Dora then quickly healed the dark-haired beauty’s mouth. It was sloppy, as horseback healing tended to be, but it got the job done. The half-orc couldn’t risk Kari arriving at the client damaged in any way.
The Healer then brought up something that had been bugging her.
“The slaves look different in this part of the city. I mean, all of the ones I’ve seen so far on display looked healthy, but some of them are dressed up and even look happy.”
“Annod Bol is the number one city to go to buy slaves,” a new voice spoke out, alerting Dora to the arrival of Reesh at their side. “And the only one, if you want to get technical, since slavery was outlawed elsewhere in Orria and Par-Orria.”
“Many of the people you see here are in fact nobles and important figures in their homelands who want cheap labor. They’re rich, powerful, and willing to break rules to be here. And you know what slaves are, in the end? Merchandise. And no one wants to buy dirty or broken goods. So, what did the ingenious slave lords of Annod Bol come up with? This.”
Reesh waved his arms to encompass the slaves on display from behind windows or in elevated cages. Men flexed, women flirted. It was not what someone would expect if they thought about a slave market. His tone was bitter as he continued to talk.
“Doll them up and show off the ones who are easy on the eyes. Keep them healthy and the city clean to attract visitors. Offer buyers a chance to ‘sample’ the goods before purchase. A slave who weeps
and is covered in filth won’t even be given a second look. An important part of business is appearances, after all.”
The lanky man looked over everything with disgust. “I truly hate this place. If I never see it again after we leave it would be too soon.”
“Chin up, Reesh. We’ll only be here for a short while,” Dora assured him. He grunted noncommittally.
“Look sharp!” Scarrot bellowed. “We’re approaching the towers! Reesh, get back in line! Same to you, Ildora! Take your place next to the golden mole’s cage!”
The two riders hastily steered their steeds into the marching line the caravan had slowly morphed into during the procession towards the sextet of soaring black monolithic structures.
Ahead of them a vast plaza opened up, nestled in the shadows of the six towers which stood around in a circle. It was full of carts and stalls with a variety of goods not unlike what the shops in the boulevard had possessed. But these were clearly temporary set-ups, and the merchants were universally peddlers and those who traveled the Dreadlands in meandering, nomad-like caravans. Not unlike the Yellowmoon Menagerie, in all honesty.
Dominating the center of the plaza equidistant from the six black towers was a large bronze statue of a humanoid figure. At first glance Dora thought it was of a mummy or someone bound in bandages from head to foot. On closer inspection though the statue depicted a being wrapped in chains.
Scarrot led the caravan right up to the statue and dismounted. He drew his two whips from his side and held them out in front of him as if in offering. Off to the side, Dora noticed several other people doing similar rites, holding out chains, ropes, and even slave collars towards the statue as well as whips and nets.
“Greetings and honor to the great Chained One. Hail Naliot, the Enslaver. Hail Naliot, the Trapper of Souls. Hail Naliot, who guides my whip and binds my foes. In your name, I strive,” the peg legged orc intoned, and before Dora’s eyes the two weapons lit up with a greasy black light.
A sensation not unlike being doused in cold viscous oil overtook the half-orc, and she felt something staring at her, peering deep into her very soul and prodding at her existence with curious intent.
It all faded as soon as the scarred orc’s weapons stopped glowing, though, and Dora let out a gasp she hadn’t even known she’d been holding in.
“Your blessing is received. Praises upon the chains you wield,” Scarrot said in thanks, getting back onto his horse.
The young green skinned Healer shook herself in an effort to regain her bearings. She ignored the concerned looks of Reesh and Uldo who were nearby, but did relax slightly as Kari patted her arms comfortingly.
The prayers done, the newly arrived group ignored the rest of the plaza and its wonders and headed straight for the West Tower. The flags hanging from it were all emblazoned with the image of a purple claw clutching a gem.
As they approached the number of people thinned significantly, and the only buildings in the shade of the looming pillar were warehouses, barracks, and stables. Men armed with spears and truncheons patrolled the area, giving Scarrot and the crew wary looks, but a few nodded respectfully as the orc passed. One grizzled looking veteran even snapped a salute before moving off elsewhere.
A thin smile did manage to cross Dora’s lips as she spotted a familiar goateed man standing in front of the large doors of the tower. He strode forward with a grin, creating distance between him and the tower with unabashed glee.
“Ah, you’re here at last,” Holt said with a relieved sigh and a smile.
“Has Krave been giving you any problems?” Scarrot asked worriedly as he rode up to the human.
“No, but it has been hard being around that ego for so long,” Holt joked lightly. He quickly sobered as he took in Kari’s appearance and spotted the tiny fleck of red on her lips.
“Clean her up quick, Dora. We’re bringing her straight to him now,” the caravan’s trap master and bookkeeper declared. “And Uldo, grab the golden mole’s cage. Might as well show that off to him at the same time.”
The bald giant of a man nodded before he dismounted from his large warhorse and lifted the medium sized container with both arms and hardly a bead of sweat to be seen for the effort.
Dora slipped off Starspot and helped Kari down, gently wiping her mouth with the back of her sleeve. Scarrot dismounted as well, surprisingly graceful despite the lack of a leg.
“Lord Krave has given us permission to bunker down at Barrack Five. Rindel, can you take the caravan over there and set us up?”
The gnome nodded silently as well, before leading the wagons and crew members over to the building they’d be in. A few nearby guards drifted over to escort the group.
“Let’s go,” Scarrot rumbled and Holt nodded, leading the way towards the tower.
A number of guards stood around in front of the entrance, clad in plate mail armor and clutching sharp swords. Interestingly, each of the armored guards had a length of chain wrapped around their left arm. As their group approached two of the men opened the double doors.
Dora didn’t get a good look at the knight-like figures as she was escorted into the foyer, but her attention was soon gripped by the wealth being displayed inside.
It was like Reed’s manor in Creidor, but cranked up to eleven and with even more gaudy and flashy pieces of art and wealth.
Dozens of people were moving around inside as well, men and women alike, some dressed as servants, others as guards or merchants. Many of the serving staff had slave collars around their necks, as did a few of the guards.
One of the finer dressed slaves approached them and bowed in greeting.
“Welcome. Lord Krave awaits you in his study. Please, follow me.”
He led them to a door made of the same black material as the outside of the tower which slid open as they approached. The interior was an empty room with a lever to the side and a quartet of slaves in mage’s robes standing in the corners of the room.
“What is this?” Dora asked as they stepped inside. The door slid shut as soon as the last of the group, Uldo, entered. The butler turned to address the half-orc with a sniff.
“Each tower is impossibly tall, and walking from the group floor to the upper levels where Lord Krave resides would take hours. However, we do not need to walk thanks to these unique rooms. Powered by magic, they can move up or down the tower in seconds.”
“Amazing.”
The servant tuned out the young green Healer and grabbed the lever. He pulled it, and the four mages grunted in discomfort as their collars lit up and runes flashed to life, their magical energy fueling the arcane mechanisms of the tower.
Dora couldn’t feel any motion, but a glowing, holographic rune above the door flickered and changed every so often. When the rune shifted into a certain symbol the butler released the device and tapped another rune nearby on the wall. In response the black door slid open, revealing a completely new location.
It was a long and wide hallway with a purple carpet that ended in front of a very large door made of wood. There were a few vases and statues lining the corridor, each one probably worth a fortune.
“This way.” The household servant moved with purpose through the long hall towards the door, rapping on the surface.
A muffled cry of “Enter!” called out, and the butler pushed the door open, admitting the motley group.
Dora looked around discreetly, taking everything in. Like the few other places she had seen, the ceiling was rather high, reaching up at least thirty or so feet. Bookshelves lined with tomes and knick-knacks covered the walls to the left and right of the door. A desk sat against the far wall, which was somehow transparent. The half-orc could swear that she hadn’t seen any bay windows like it on the outside, so it wasn’t glass. Probably some more weird magic left over from the original builders.
In the middle of the room, sitting beneath an elegant crystal chandelier that shone with ethereal white light was a sextet of padded chairs set around a coffee table. The way the c
hairs had been laid out was reminiscent of how the towers themselves were placed around the plaza.
Two of the chairs were currently occupied, both occupants looking up from a tea set to observe the newcomers. One of them was a young redhead, probably no older than Reesh, who was around twenty-five, yet he was significantly fatter. He was dressed in rich purple robes with a white fur fringe and gold and silver rings on his fingers that glinted in the magical light of the chandelier.
The other man who sat opposite the portly noble was likely the oldest man in the room. Though not as aged as the mayor of Creidor, his hair was grey, but the walking stick that leaned against his chair was more for appearances than actual assistance. His clothes were dark green in color, but more like a suit than robes.
Out of the corner of her eye, Holt and Scarrot exchanged looks of confusion when they noticed the grey-haired individual.
“Holt, you have returned! Most excellent! And what a pleasure it is to see you again, Scar. How long has it been? Four years?” the rotund purple-clad man exclaimed, interrupting their musings and drawing attention to himself once more.
“Five, Lord Krave,” the orc said with a deep bow.
“Ah, yes. Not since my dear father’s funeral. Work must certainly have kept you busy.” The purple swathed man rose ponderously from his seat and strode forward, eyes locked onto the blindfolded woman at Dora’s side.
“Reed always does fine work. I had honestly been expecting two slaves with the Bloodline Traits I needed, but he went above and beyond and managed to find such an exceptional specimen,” Dominick Krave smarmed, leering at Kari who flinched under the force of his gaze. He turned to Dora.
“Show me her eyes.”
Dora nodded and carefully worked the band of crimson cloth away. Once it was off, the slave opened her eyes hesitantly and looked at the man who had bought her.
Krave seemed pleased with her, looking openly at her figure before walking to one of the bookshelves.