by R. A. Mejia
Vrax doesn’t need to change much since he’s been wearing only his loin cloth and slave collar since we started our journey through the desert. He does have to give up his short sword and stone knife. Seeing him wear that simple garment, I recall that he wore the same one when I first saw him. I just hope he remembered to wash it at some point since then.
A week outside our destination, we start to hear more and more about the newly-appointed governor of Attilius. He’s been in office for less than six months but has already enacted reforms that many consider radical. He instituted a set of laws that made it legal to practice blood magic on one’s property without negative consequence. Sure, blood magic has been used for quite a long time as the best way to ensure the obedience of a slave, but it was still viewed with suspicion by the average citizen since it was rumored that so many other horrible things could be done with it. The new governor also passed an edict that any slave that testifies against a citizen must first be tortured since they were likely to lie for the sake of their master. But what really caught our attention was the connection the new governor had with kobolds.
While resting at a roadside bar one evening, a richly-adorned man in a silk toga lined with gold embroidery approached me. “Excuse me, good sir. Is that kobold outside your property?”
I looked the fellow up and down, noting his well-manicured hands, freshly-washed look, and the smell of cologne. Rich guy. However, we don’t want any trouble, so I decide to play it cool and answer the man straight. “Yes, he is. Why do you ask?”
Perhaps it’s the way that I speak, or the general tone of my voice, but the man bristles. “You will address me as Senator Marcus, foreigner!”
While I don’t care for the man’s tone, a glance behind him shows that he has a couple armed guards backing him up. Tamping my annoyance down, I try to say a bit obsequiously, “My apologies, Senator Marcus. I am new to your lands, and I should have known by your fine attire and dignified air that you are an important man.”
Senator Marcus nods at my words, mollified now that I’ve recognized his station. He continues, “Well, now that you understand, I was inquiring about your kobold. Where did you get him, and are there any others available for purchase?”
The switch in conversation to purchasing kobolds throws me for a moment, and I feel my face burn with anger, but I remember that asking about buying slaves here is as common as asking about buying horses everywhere else. Thankfully, our group had already come up with a cover story to match our forged documents. “Uh . . . I bought the kobold from one of the tribes of the Loblin Desert. They told me that they encountered a small hunting party of the creatures and killed them all, save for one. That one they collared and sold to me.”
The Senator’s eyes go from excited to disappointed when I tell him I got the only one the tribe had. He considers me for a moment and then asks, “How much would it cost to purchase the creature?”
“It’s with deepest apologies that I have to say the kobold is not for sale. I have very important plans for him,” I say through gritted teeth. Then I turn away from the man, hoping he’ll get the hint that the conversation is over. Instead, he grabs me by the shoulder and spins me around to face him.
“Just as I thought! You plan to sell him to someone else, don’t you? Who is it? Senator Ablina? Caius? Fabia? Tell me! It’s just like them to try to cozy up to the governor of Attilius by mimicking his fascination with kobolds. They probably plan to present the kobold as a gift to him, right? Curry favor by adding another kobold to his elite guards?”
My eyes go wide and my heart begins to pound at the news that some governor has kobold guards. It can’t just be a coincidence. This may be our first clue about what happened after the kobolds were sold as slaves. From what this senator is saying, they’re rare enough creatures in the Empire. No wonder we’ve gotten so many strange looks. I just thought they were staring at Sonya or something.
The senator starts to shake me, breaking my train of thought. “Did you hear me, foreigner? I’ll pay double whatever those snakes are paying you for that kobold.”
With my skill in unarmed combat, it’s a simple matter to break the man’s grip on my arms. Though my instinct is to throat punch this guy, I stand up straight and look him in the eyes and say, with as much polite menace as I can muster, “I have already told you. The kobold is not for sale, sir.” I only remember to add the ‘sir’ at the last second.
The senator glares balefully at me. “You dare deny the duly-elected senator of this district? I’ll have you thrown in jail and seize your property.” He motions for his guards, but before they can make a move, a loud commanding voice calls out.
“Perhaps I can be of service to you, Senator Marcus?”
Turning, I see a brawny, stern-looking man standing in the doorway of the inn. He’s wearing a boiled-leather armor chest piece and studded-leather skirt. He has a red cape around his shoulders and a dull-copper helmet in his hands. At his waist is a sword. The room, already watching the loud senator, goes quiet upon seeing the man. With the easy grace of a hunting cat, the man saunters up to us. He barely glances at me but smiles predatorily at the politician.
“I heard what you said, sir. Threatening to seize the property of a man because he wouldn’t sell it to you? Tsk, tsk.”
The senator, for his part, is not intimidated by the man’s presence, though everyone else seems to be. He smiles politely through gritted teeth. “Hello, guard captain. It’s so nice to see you again. Your many hours policing and guarding our fair county must have damaged your hearing. I made no threat to the foreigner. I merely inquired about the origin of his kobold slave. After all, I wouldn’t want some creature purchased illegally spreading disease in our community.”
With feigned remorse, the guard captain says, “Oh, my apologies for the misunderstanding.” He then turns to me. “Well, sir, do you have papers for your slave?”
I nod slowly, knowing that, while we have papers, they’re all forged. If this police officer, or whatever he is, calls us on it, our mission is over before it’s even begun. Still, what option do I have? I open my inventory and pull out the papers Pauline gave us and hand them over to the guard, hoping the documents are as impeccable forgeries as she thought they were.
The guard captain takes the documents and with mock seriousness on his face quickly flips through them. He then hands them back to me and returns his attention to the senator. “Well, it looks like the young man’s papers are all in order. You can leave assured that you’ve done your duty for public health, senator.”
Senator Marcus looks like he wants to say something, but instead holds his tongue and marches out of the inn, an angry scowl on his face. His two guards follow him out the door.
The guard captain watches him go, a smug smile on his face. When the senator is out of earshot, the guard mutters, “Arrogant jerk. That’s what you get for trying to lower the guards’ pay and line your own pockets.” He then turns back to me. “Sorry you got caught up in the middle of that. He’s an incumbent senator who thinks too highly of himself. I always vote for the other guy, but Marcus always seems to get re-elected somehow.” He shrugs and adds, “Still, it might be a good idea for you to leave the area. The good senator might arrange for an accident for you if you stick around too long. He’s not known for his forgiving nature.” Having said this, the guard captain puts his helmet back on and walks out of the inn. Our group takes the good captain’s advice and is on the road again immediately.
Chapter 24
Arriving at Attilius a week later, we’re first greeted by the high walls that surround the city. We arrange storage and care for our animals and wagon several miles outside the city proper. Walking through the gates of the city, there is an inspection of papers, but since Pauline provided us all with good forgeries, we pass through without any issues, though my having a kobold slave does raise a few eyebrows. More than once, I’m asked if he’s related to the Sinister Seven or if I plan to enter the Colosseum. My rema
rks are polite, but it’s intriguing that that so many people equate seeing a kobold to this Sinister Seven.
Once through the gates, there is a wide paved road lined with trees that leads to the city proper. Well-organized roads lead to a variety of one- and two-story buildings made from either brick or concrete covered in stucco. In the town center, where the two main roads cross, is an open-air market, where any number of breads, fruits, vegetables, spices, and meats can be purchased. Beyond the market, more industrial businesses can be seen: blacksmiths, tailors, bakers, workshops, and most importantly the gladiatorial familias. At the edge of the city proper are long buildings with wide-open courtyards where men, women, and owned slaves practice for the arena. According to Race, our expert on the subject of gladiator combat, there are many training facilities for gladiators. Each is called a familia, or family, and may specialize in a particular type of gladiator fight or have their own particular fighting style. Competition among these familias is fierce.
Beyond these grounds is the main attraction of the city, the Colosseum, an auditorium that would rival just about any college stadium I’ve ever seen on Earth. The open-air seating can accommodate at least 20,000 people. Race says there are larger colosseums near the capital of the Empire, but this is still among the largest. The Colosseum itself is four stories tall and made from concrete that is shaped in a series of large arches to support the multilevel structure. Each arch is decorated with a variety of symbols, figures, and floral patterns, making the entire structure look as much like a piece of art as a place where the people gather for entertainment. There are over thirty entrances on the first floor alone, making it easy for spectators to enter and exit the Colosseum. Though I do note that a few of them seem to be for the exclusive use of the wealthy. Outside the Colosseum are massive, ten-foot statues of the most honored gladiators.
Race is excited to go see a gladiator battle at the Colosseum, but there are no fights scheduled the day we arrive, so he parts from our group. Eager to begin his life as a gladiator, he says that he plans to try out at the best gladiator training facilities in town so that he can make his fortune at the Colosseum. We thank him for his guidance and wish him the best of luck.
Our first course of action is to find some place to stay, then we can work on getting information about where the kobolds are being held. Keans makes a few inquiries about the local Adventurer’s Guild, and we’re directed to the very edge of town, well past the Colosseum. Unfortunately, the guild isn’t everything we’d hoped it would be. It looks like one of the most run-down buildings we’ve seen in the city. Unlike the one in Trinitarian, this guild hall is a one-story affair made from brick. The clay roof has seen better days and is cracked in several places. Walking through the front door, I’m surprised at how dusty the floors are. The last Adventurer’s Guild I was in was immaculate. The layout of the guild is the same. There’s a job board on the far wall, a long counter where people would normally go to get help, and a waiting area before it where adventurers would gossip and wait their turn for the attendants. Only, there’s no one here. The place looks completely deserted. The sound of someone coughing proves my statement a lie and a husky voice calls out, “Hello. Is someone there?”
Keans looks as confused at the state of the guild hall as the rest of us, but he calls back, “Yes. I’m here looking for guild services.”
The sound of slow shuffling feet comes from somewhere in the building, and after a minute, an old, gray-haired woman comes to the counter. She looks over our group, but the poor woman just seems tired. She musters just enough energy to say, “Welcome to the Adventurer’s Guild. How may I help you?”
Mary flies up into view and asks, “What happened here?”
The old woman’s right eyebrow slowly rises, and she languidly turns to me. “You allow your ‘slave’ an awful lot of leeway to speak. That’s unusual for someone from the Empire.” I notice the smallest hint of a smile on her face as she says that last part.
I shrug. “That’s because we’re not from the Empire. We’re adventurers that have come into town to try our hands at making money in the Colosseum.”
The old lady nods slowly. “That’s the reason we’re like this--not that the Empire is particularly welcoming to the guild in the first place. The Adventurer’s Guild is a merit-based organization. We welcome all species and judge each person on what they do, not what they look like.” She shakes her head slowly and sadly. “That doesn’t match up well with the current policies of the Empire. They haven’t officially banned us, but we pay higher taxes, and the government has encouraged their citizens to not come to us.”
“What does that have to do with the Colosseum?”
“Oh, that was just the final push that drove away the last potential adventurers. Once the Colosseum went up, it was much easier to make money there with gambling or fighting than it was with the few quests and jobs the guild could offer.”
Keans nods understandingly. “I appreciate that you’ve even kept the office open, considering the pressures leveled against you.” The old woman seems to straighten up at the compliment. Keans continues, “Does the guild still have a facility to house traveling adventurers?”
The old woman nods slowly. “Yes, though it’s been a while since it’s been used. We have one facility. A two-bedroom place in the center of the city. It’s yours if you want it. It’ll only cost you two silvers a week or seven silvers for a full month’s rent.”
After a quick deliberation, we agree to the price. We pay up for the month and head on over to the location. The building turns out to be a small place located behind a blacksmith. There’s a constant hammering that likely drives away most tenants, but for us, it’s perfect to make sure we’re not overheard. There are two bedrooms and a common area with a small stove and a few shelves. It’s not much, but honestly, it’s all we need and better than we can expect unless we want to have Vrax and Mary sleep outside with the other slaves.
The five of us, now sitting in the common room on the bare floor, finally have the money conversation. After all, we have supplies to purchase, and I’d like to know what kind of budget we have to work with.
“So, I hate to bring this up, but how much dough do we have?” With the exception of Mary, everyone else looks at me with confused expressions, so I continue, “You know. Dough? Lettuce? Cheddar? Semolinas? How much money do we have?”
There’s a general nod of understanding from the group, and Mary slaps her forehead. Vrax scratches his scaled head. “I thought you were getting hungry, brood brother. Why you no say you want to know about money?” He opens up his inventory space and counts out something on his claws. “I have two silver and thirty-two copper. But Mary has much more. We did much questing, and she took most of the coins to keep them safe from thieves.”
Mary zips over from across the room and lands on the kobold’s snout, putting a finger to her lips. Vrax nods, mimicking the movement. Then he turns to me and whispers, “I am not supposed to tell you, though. Mary says she wants to buy you something special.”
There’s a loud guffaw from Keans, and I see Sonya politely cover her own laughter with a hand. Mary stares them all down, and the room eventually falls quiet. She mutters something about loud-mouthed kobolds then turns to me, hands on hips, and says, “I wasn’t hiding anything from you, Armon. You just never asked until now. You have no one to blame but yourself.” Shrugging, she changes tactics, “Besides, it’s all money that Vrax and I earned while you were in prison.”
“Yip. We make many golds,” Vrax cheerfully adds.
“Gold? You have gold coins?” I ask, astonished. If I remember correctly, a hundred copper makes a single silver. A hundred silver makes a gold. To put that into perspective, a single silver coin is enough to feed a man for a week. That means that a gold coin can feed a man for two years.
Mary gives Vrax a dirty look. “Look, we earned it fair and square. While you were gone, Kitsune, Vrax, and I went on some quests to earn some coin. It started wit
h a simple quest to kill ten rats. Then one thing lead to another, and we had four gold coins.”
“One thing led to another, and you just have four gold coins? No, you’ll have to explain more than that, Mary.”
“Fine. The rat things lead us to an underground cave system where we ran into a group of thieves preparing for a heist. We killed a couple of them, purely in self-defense, but then they captured us. We were taken to the local mob boss, and Kitsune was taken hostage while Vrax and I robbed the Bank of Trinitarian. To make a long story short, we Ocean Eleven’d it and stole more money than I’d ever thought I’d make in my life. Then we tricked the mob, got them to turn themselves into the cops, and rescued Kitsune. Unfortunately, the cops took all that loot back. But the bank was so happy to have recovered all the lost assets that they paid us four gold to keep quiet about it all.”