The day was the same as usual—some maid giving orders and me following them until the curfew bell rang. At night, we all slept in cells located in the basement, and trust me when I say it was needlessly uncomfortable. Each cell was a little bit longer than myself in length and contained about 12-15 slaves. The rooms were rarely cleaned and the suspiciously empty spiderwebs in the corners always disturbed me. More than anything, however, the cells were cold. Bitterly cold. As in every-year-2-to-3-slaves-die-because-of-hypothermia cold. You'd think with how much money the Nagarian nobility spent on us they would take better care so we wouldn't die.
At the gate of the slave quarters, the guard slightly nodded to acknowledge my presence before opening the door to my cell, which creaked on its hinges and echoed loudly as it locked shut. I sat down against the wooden bars and rested my head back, taking in a deep breath and shutting my eyes as I listened to the sounds of the others breathing and rustling, always unable to find a comfortable position to sleep in.
People slowly pattered their way to the designated spots in the cell that we meticulously split over time, and, as always, the two guards sat and lazily slept at their posts near the gate, somehow looking comfortable on a chair that was anything but. I was jealous. But tired enough from the day, it didn't take long for me and everyone else to pass out, regardless of the cold cement floor.
Until the screaming started.
The first one was quiet. I barely heard it in my half-conscious state. I woke up slowly, barely piecing together the sound. I listened carefully for any sounds of ruckus or another scream that could indicate someone in trouble. The guards were already snoring away, and I didn't want to wake them for no reason. But another scream resounded, and then another, louder. My eyebrows scrunched as I stared at the gate to the cellar where the sound softly seeped through. More and more screams broke out, slowly grabbing the attention of all the slaves who were still awake and those who woke easily. All of a sudden the screams stopped, deafening the air and making my heart clench. A couple seconds passed by and still nothing. My increasing anxiety made me call out to the softly snoring bum sitting crooked on the stool near the door.
"Guard," I spoke. He flinched but didn't wake up.
Are you serious?
"Gua-"
The gate burst open, making me jump. Armored men stormed into the cellar and wasted no time in turning to the startled guard before stabbing a dagger through his throat. I blinked, unable to react like others who screamed in horror from watching the blood drench the floor. As the soldiers clamored in, I scrambled away from the wooden bars with the rest of my companions, pushing to the back of the cellar wall, not caring anymore about the abandoned spider webs.
The other guard fell to the ground scared out of his wits and fumbled to get up only to get stepped on by one of the soldiers and stabbed with a sword. I cringed away this time, closing my eyes.
"Sir," one spoke. My head spun toward the voice.
Empirian?
My eyebrows scrunched upon hearing my native language..
The soldiers made way for who I assumed to be the commander to come through.
"What?" He responded. My stomach clenched at the merciless tone of his voice. His armor seemed heavier than most and contrasted with his golden hair. My eyes widened, seeing it glimmer against the dim light of the torches.
Golden hair? He's a royal?
"It seems the count had slaves, what should we do with them?" The soldier asked.
"What do you mean? Just kill them all," he ordered. I looked at the royal in shock, my heart picking up its pace at his ridiculously nonchalant statement. Before I could say anything in hopes of getting spared, another soldier went up to him and gave a report.
"The fire is heading this way quickly, Your Highness. We need to leave," he said.
"Let them just burn in the fire then, we don't have time," The royal concluded.
"Yes, sir," They replied before moving on.
I thought about calling out, and asking to be let out of the cell at least, but the way that he had ordered our deaths so simply kept my mouth clamped shut. I remained silent until they all left the view of my cell, trying to come up with a plan to escape while they moved. As property we would just get sold off again, but that was much better than burning alive. As I looked around, the guard lying dead in front of the cell caught my eye.
The keys…
I waited till I heard the cellar door leading outside slammed shut before springing into action. I stretched my arm through the cell bars trying to reach for the guard.
"Ruina, what's going on?" The other slaves asked in Nagarian—this country's native language.
"They set the mansion on fire. If we don't get out, we'll burn," I responded. Luckily, the guard was kicked to the side to make room for the other soldiers, making him close enough to grab. I pulled with all my might, unable to make him budge. My grip was weak with sweat from the nerves and the fearsome pressure that overwhelmed my thoughts.
"Will someone help me?" I called a bit frustrated. Everyone behind me was freaking out, but a couple heard and came over quickly after realizing what I was doing. We worked together and pulled him closer, allowing me to reach to his other side that had the keys. I snatched it off the hook at his waist and quickly drew back. Everyone collectively sighed in relief, until a crackle was heard and they could see the fire starting to eat away at the door. Panic taking over again, I reached through the bars and quickly tried each key in a frenzy until one popped the lock open. Not a moment later, everyone pushed through rushing out into the hallway and to the cellar door.
"Wait!" I called. I rushed out of the cell.
"If you go out now, the army will kill you!" I yelled, trying not to be too loud at the realization that they might've heard me outside. The people slowed down.
"Then what are we supposed to do?" One asked.
"Just wait a moment. They're leaving right now, so if you wait a little bit before you go, they won't see us."
Probably.
"Count to 30. Then, open the door and run to the forest and hide where we collect the Mulberries. I'll work on getting all the cells open," I finished. They nodded and then ran to the end. I started with the keys, opening the cells one after another, almost getting run over by the hoard of people each time. The fire kept frighteningly close, making my hands shake as I undid the locks and tried not to crumble under the weight of everyone's shouts for me to hurry. The dry heat from the flames made my eyes water and my skin burn from the ever increasing temperature of the hallway. The bars of the cells just had to be made out of wood.
There were about 15 locks and on the 7th was when they opened the door and sprinted outside. I glanced over, watching to see if they were killed as soon as they got out, but it seemed as if the army was gone. Slightly relieved, I worked faster. I felt more and more adrenaline as I got closer to the door and my escape. The last lock opened fiercely, with the last few people rushing out. I started to fall slightly, my foot touching burnt hay that was scattered throughout the entire cellar, but was saved by another slave who grabbed my hand fiercely dragging me back and hurriedly out the gate and into the open air.
I rushed along with the rest, sprinting across the lawn. We ran all the way into the forest until we came upon the familiarly stained ground of the mulberry harvest area. The group spread out as I gathered my breath, hunched over, finally getting my heart to slow down. After a few gulps of air, I straightened my back about to move forward only for a sword to appear next to my throat. I jumped in surprise and my heart went right back to beating 100 miles an hour. Within seconds the rest of the group was surrounded by soldiers.
"Quite an energetic bunch," A voice broke out behind me. I shuddered, clenching the keys that I forgot were in my other hand out of fear. The rest of the group broke out in confused chatter. They moved closer together towards the center as the guards closed in. The sword moved away and a hand shoved me forward. I walked until I was shoved forward again, tripping into the crowded group. I turned around to face the Royal in charge, who had looked incredibly inconvenienced.
A couple people spoke out, "What's going on? Who are you people? Why are you-"
"Shut up," he said, pointing his sword. He caught sight of the keys in my clenched hand.
"Well I guess that explains how you got out," He said with an eyebrow raised. He looked me straight in the eye, "Tell me, how does it feel to free everyone only to lead them to their death?"
He stared at my expression for a moment, as I tried to conceal my hurt.
He shrugged, "Not that you can understand me." He turned to his soldiers, "Kill them."
He was about to walk away as I called him.
"And you?" I called clearly. Everyone halted at my voice. The soldiers stopped their advances in surprise. They didn't expect to hear Empirian.
The royal turned slowly and looked to me, almost unsure of what he just heard.
"What would you have done? If you had the choice between burning to death or the chance of being caught, what would you have chosen?" I spoke clearly. His expression changed to that of impressment.
"True," he said, "I would much rather chance being caught." Moving closer, he observed me, curious.
"However," he started, "I'm much more interested in how a slave such as yourself knows Empirian."
I hesitated giving a response.
"Who knows, I might spare your life based on how you answer," He said with an irritating smirk. I looked at him with unbelieving eyes, but decided to answer anyway.
"It's my native language, Your Highness."
"Lies. You expect me to believe that you were originally from the Empire?"
"I can't change the truth, Your Highness," I said, slightly upset that he didn't believe me. He thought for a moment, "Then prove it. Tell me something about the Empire that only a native would know."
I thought for a moment. Being on spot made it hard for me to remember anything useful.
"I can tell you from where in the Empire I was from."
"Go ahead," He said, slightly displeased with my answer.
"I was from Baron Higjard's territory."
"You're going to have to do better than that for me to believe you, girly," He said. I thought again for another moment.
"Well I was a kid, but I remember this one festival that was to celebrate the 5th prince's social debut. Everything was decorated with feathers because it was said the 5th prince would be the kingdom's wings."
He seemed to pause for a moment and looked down at me. I couldn't read any emotion on his face.
"Anything else?" He said plainly.
Was that not enough?
I combed through my memories for anything specific to the area. A memory of my mother popped up.
"Our area was known for our craftsmanship. One year the lord of the area wanted to present someone in the palace with a gift and bought a hair ornament from my mom. My mom bragged about how it became a trend and she's the one who started it since she made the ornament. It was a glass hair pin that was shaped into 3 flowers, with strings of silver attached to the bottom like a veil. Maybe you've seen something like it at the palace," I tried. A slight look of recognition ran through his eyes before he hardened his expression.
"Alright, I'll believe you. I do remember glass ornaments being quite popular when I was younger," he said.
Wow so my mom wasn't just exaggerating?
"Where are your parents now?"
"They died a couple years ago," I stated solemnly.
"I see."
He stood up indifferent.
"Well, this doesn't change the fact that you're a slave from Nagaria now. So unfortunately this still means that I'm going to have to kill you."
I looked at him incredulously.
"Then why did you ask?!" I said, unable to stop myself.
I knew this was going to happen. Getting mad isn't going to help. But seriously?
"Just cause I was curious," He said simply.
"Why kill us? It's not like we did anything to you."
"Can't have loose ends. Who knows what you all might do or plan. Plus you all speak a different language, so it's not like we can keep an eye on or use you."
"I can translate!" I exclaimed. I was desperate, hoping that as long as we were still having a conversation, I could talk my way out of this. He seemed to pause at my suggestion, making me quickly continue before he could refuse.
"I can convey to them whatever it is you want to order. There's over a hundred slaves here—anything you need could get done easily. Plus, if you spare their lives, there's no way they would try to betray you. We planned to just turn ourselves in to the nearest state office to get turned over to a new master anyways. You won't even have to train us," I rambled.
"Still, supplying and feeding over a hundred mouths while traveling and keeping an eye on you isn't feasible," he stated.
"It is!" I refuted. "The storage house on the opposite side of the estate has food stored for the winter, and we're used to being on our feet all day. With the extra help, you might actually get wherever you're going sooner."
"...And do your friends feel the same as you do?" He asked. I turned and quickly explained the situation. They all nodded and shouted their agreements. A few bowed, causing everyone to follow along until everyone was facing the man with their heads down.
"They said they would," I said, bowing as well. "Please."
A silence blanketed the area as we all closed our eyes tightly, waiting to see if our plea got through to him.
"Fine, I will work you to the bone, so don't regret it," he concluded. He turned and started commanding the men as I turned and conveyed the good news.
We all celebrated for a moment, feeling an immense weight lift off our shoulders before getting to work and starting our journey together with the royal.