A Record of Ash & Ruin: The Grieving Lands

Chapter 21: Chapter 19 – A Change of Circumstance


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The Eastern Alliance vastly underestimated the depths to which a free people would resist an oppressor, and troops of the kingdom now known to be called the Republic of Arastia fought with great zeal and fervour. They knew what fate awaited every single man, woman, and child should they become a conquered people.

- On the Cataclysm by an unknown Quassian Scholar circa 103 AC

The days followed one another in a slow steady rhythm, with little change for a further three days. However, on the fourth day, I took my morning toilet a little earlier than usual, due to waking from a nightmare of being pursued by sharp-bladed dark things. I could just make out a woman of middling years, with a face set with hard lines of grief, making her way to Degei before his regular motivational morning speech. Gold circles were threaded throughout her raven black hair and tinkled as she walked. I could not help but feel that her features were familiar, but in my morning state, my mind failed to make a connection. A small leather purse was exchanged and Degei nodded solemnly to the woman, raising the purse a little higher with both hands before stuffing it into the loose folds of his clothes.

Subsequently, I was made to work even harder in the mines that day. I now labored four shifts with only a few hours rest after my evening meal, before I joined another slave gang to toil away in the dark blue depths. I was being worked to death. My mind in its own twisted humor noted that this gave me little time to have words and socialize with my newfound companions. Despite my circumstance working against me, we were able to hurriedly exchange occasional snippets at brief intervals in the day.

I made sure to pace myself, but this new grueling menu of work meant that I had to dedicate five points of Mana every day just to keep my body in working condition. However, thanks to this new forced work plan I had started to gain rapidly in status points and skills. I had attained two points of Strength and another skill point in Hammers. My near sleepless nights had earned me another point in Constitution, as well raising both my Endurance and Rest skills. I had earnestly tried to raise my Rust spell and was rewarded with an increase in Intelligence and Wisdom, as well as finally raising the spell to level two. More importantly, thanks to my labors I was gaining in experience. Putting aside my nightmarish conditions, the avid gamer inside of me actually looked forward to the next day and the opportunity to earn even more experience.

One small moment of levity that lightened my spirits for a day was a guard being berated by Degei for the state of his equipment. Unbeknownst to him, I had been casting Rust on his gear. He looked genuinely shocked at the state of his armor and weapons as the Overseer gave him a dressing down.

I had also secretly cast Rust on Kidu’s collar with some trepidation one evening before my spell had leveled up and gained in power. He showed no ill effect as he lay in his deep slumber, snoring wildly like a bear. I was satisfied to observe that there were a few splotches of rust about the edges of his collar the next day.

Through these observations, I concluded that it would be safe to cast Rust on my own collar. Through gritted teeth, I cast it that same evening to no ill effects, save for the usual feeling of wrongness and very slight warm feeling around my neck where the metal contacted my skin. I had learned to effectively block out the sibilant whispers that seemed to transpire from just behind me when I cast Rust. This proved in my mind at least that humans are remarkably adaptable, able to compartmentalize the strangest of things. I wondered if those involved in the cruel slave trade business were able to return to their families at the end of a long day’s work with smiles on their faces and love in their eyes. Did the hand that held the whip also pat the head of an innocent child?

Though mentally exhausted, I was certainly growing stronger. What didn’t kill me could only make me stronger, I muttered to myself remembering the famous quote from Nietzche. I needed to make my way out of here and escape. I was reasonably certain that Degei was already trying to kill me indirectly, and at this rate, who knew how much longer I would last? It was only my magic, my prodigious Constitution, and Adita’s sympathy that had allowed me to survive under my current horrendous conditions.

Just as I was mulling these thoughts over, there was a rumble that quaked through the ground. The sounds of clanging industry stopped as the reverberations shook the encampment, a sense of panic infecting the air. The earthquake, for it could be nothing else, rattled the building around me as a stampede of slaves made for the single entrance. Rising quickly on unsteady feet, I hurried to join them in exiting the stables.

Not before long, guards woken from their sleep stormed to the pens with a tired-looking Degei in tow. The guards violently ordered us to form orderly lines, the lick of a club or whip more threatening than the shaking of the earth as we waited for the rumblings to subside. I could hear the ignorant slaves around whisper to each other something about land dragons stirring, or the Earth Mother being angry and other such superstitious nonsense. The locals probably had no idea about the mechanics of tectonic activities and continental drift. However, a small part of me did wonder, that perhaps maybe, just maybe, it could actually be the work of actual land dragons.

“Get back to sleep the lot of you! Work tomorrow! Back! Back I say dogs!'' Degei ordered half shouting, his words enforced with the stinging crack of studded leather. I made my way back inside along with the other slaves, our common fear of Degei overriding our dread of the angry earth, so well were some of us broken by fear of the whip.

Lying on my pallet I tried to whisper to Kidu, but the snoring noises from his direction confirmed to me that he was already asleep. It would be churlish of me to steal him from it. Turning to my right I whispered out to Durhit, barely able to make out his craggy face in the gloom, and was met with an annoyed grunt.

“Best be going asleep manling, tomorrow will be the hardest darkest day yet, mark my words,” he said in his attempt at a quiet voice, before turning on his side facing away from me, closing off all further avenues of inquiry.

Apprehensive and annoyed, I cast Rust impulsively at my collar. I felt the familiar uncomfortable and inimical sensation flow throughout my body before I released it into the slave collar on my neck. The whispers had become stronger and the crackle of the black lightning’s pulses felt more and more like the beat of a living creature now that the spell had increased in level. The collar on my neck grew unbearably hot, almost sizzling my skin and filling the air with a sickeningly appetizing smell. It skirted the borders of agony, taking off a chunk of my Health before subsiding to just painfully hot. I grit my teeth at the unexpected sensation, the strength of the reaction taking me completely by surprise. But there alone in the darkness I was unwilling to let out a sound and draw attention to myself.

Just then I thought I heard something crack or give in the collar, like the sound of an errant foot slowly stepping on an expensive and fragile toy. I could feel a coarse sandy sensation where the metal met my neck. Tentative shaking fingers reached to confirm the state of my collar, but I stopped myself just before they brushed against the slowly cooling hot surface, remembering the pain when I had previously touched it. My mind scrambled for a solution to my predicament before I remembered an old staple of mine, Identify. At least perhaps in this way, I could check the durability of the collar. Guiding my magic to the collar, I made a welcome discovery.

Iron Slave Collar

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