Chapter 7: Chapter 6: Carnival of Shadows

Four days had passed since that confrontation. Vermon spent most of his time with Akinos in the Imperial Palace, training together in armed combating, horse racing, or talking about world politics.

His evenings, however, were less peaceful for the reason that he developed the habit of heading to the isolation room as soon as he came home to pick fights with Orb or punish him without a convincing reason.

That new habit he had never gotten into with any of his old slaves before. It was in his nature to ignore their existence as long as they carry out their duties.

The only form of interaction with them was disciplining them in the isolation room and that would normally take place on their first week in his house.

No servant in the house understood the secret behind Vermon’s actions; their best guess was a strong hatred of his new slave.

Akinos however enjoyed listening to Vermon’s constant complaints about his slave, and refrained from giving his opinion on anything Vermon did and said.

On the fifth night, Vermon teleported himself from his bed chamber to the isolation room. He saw Orb sitting cross-legged in his usual corner while observing one of the servants, who sat opposite him and busied himself with carefully cutting a piece of leather.

The square-shaped piece was brown in color with two narrow holes, and attached to its two sides, was a black strap. Vermon realized that Orb intended to make himself a mask out of that ugly thing and cover his eyes with it.

“What’s going on here?” Vermon questioned, looking daggers at Orb.

The young servant jerked in fright and, without looking at his master, jumped to his feet and pointed to the material scattered on the ground in front of them.

“Master, Orb caught me when I finished changing his bandages, and threatened to kill me if I didn’t help him make his own mask,” he cried as he pointed at Orb’s right hand. “There was a strange light coming from that hand and he tried to shoot it at me. He is the one who forced me to provide materials and sit with him to cut and sew the mask.”

At that point, Orb sat up straight, and steadily fixed his eyes on Vermon. The latter asked in apparent vexation, “Light? Is what this boy said true?”

“Yes,” Orb answered calmly, cautiously, and without evasion.

“What light? Can you still use your powers?” Vermon asked.

“I’m not sure.”

“You are not sure?”

Orb quietly turned his right hand in front of him, and then continued, “It didn’t last for long, once I generated it in the palm of my hand, it faded away. Maybe because I am not fully recovered.” Then, he looked up to the boy and said, “But it was enough to frighten the boy, I believe.”

To Vermon that was a troublesome situation. Orb’s possessing his own powers, which were generated by his own energy, was considered a threat to Vermon’s ability to exercise his will and authority over Orb within the house.

The laws of Uthus would not permit slaves to pose a threat or danger to their masters by having powers of any kind.

Therefore, Vermon kicked the material that rested in front of the two and commanded the servant to get everything out of the room including Orb’s medication.

The boy proceeded to gather in his hands the leather piece, strap, threads, and scissors, as well as Orb’s medications, and quickly ran out of the room.

Enraged, Vermon addressed Orb, “How dare you? How dare you, you worthless slave, use your powers in my house? How dare you threaten my servants and use force without fear or guilt?”

“Do you know what guilt is?”

Orb’s question was blunt. He was curious to learn about the idea of guilt from the perspective of a demon, a descendant of Uthus, like Vermon.

However, Vermon considered that question an ill-intentioned criticism and did not like it, so he grabbed Orb by his lapels and lifted him in the air.

“I warn you! I may cut your tongue and hands off at any moment. I may even mark you with another seal on a place you won’t like!” He continued ferociously, “I suppose you can move by now and face me. I’ll teach you a lesson you won’t forget tomorrow, so get ready."

At that moment, Orb discovered that he had finally regained his sense of smell after many days of losing it because of his illness.

The smell of Vermon reached his lungs. It was a pleasant fragrance that was not stifling, a special and strange mixture of rare herbs and dewy soil found only in the Suspendrom Valley, a hidden valley said to exist in the southeastern of Empamalangon Kingdom.

It was a familiar aromatic scent that he knew well and could distinguish from thousands of scents and perfumes. This scent made his heart uncontrollably throb and his thoughts scatter for a moment until Vermon threw him to the ground.

“Wearing a mask will only make you uglier than you are! I will not allow you to wear it. Everyone shall see you and you shall become the laughingstock of the capital.”

“...”

With lips slightly parting, Orb fixed his damaged eyes on Vermon in a strange silence. Though Vermon paid him no attention, Orb’s silence irritated him.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?”

“...”

Orb’s eyes were still glued to Vermon’s indistinct features and his lips were still slightly apart as if he wanted to say something.

He wanted to see Vermon’s face clearly, examine its features carefully. He felt the sudden surging of an unseen bond, forming and shrouding the two.

Even though he was partially blind, Orb could see that bond almost materialize into a white cloud and take him to a distant time where a wave of overwhelming emotion swept him that he could not identify; was it longing? Fear? Hesitation? He really could not tell.

Vermon left the room after kicking Orb in the stomach and leaving him squirming in pent-up pain. Orb crawled back to his corner with difficulty and leaned against the wall.

He thought about that scent that came from his past, which he had not forgotten. Though he could not describe it and tell its story moments ago, neither to himself first nor his tormentor, it gave him a moment of stillness, a feeling of loneliness, longing, and need. He felt an incoming desire to weep but resisted it.

Soon Orb’s thoughts drifted back into the past again when he was free but abandoned and lonely. In comparison to his present state, Orb believed that it was tolerable, and he wanted it back.

He wanted to be free like before, abandoned by everyone in the world and lonely so he could search for that bond that surged with the peculiar aroma of Vermon’s blood.

He wanted to investigate it, to find answers to his unexplained emotions and sense of loss. Therefore, he planned to first find ways to go to Vermon’s private library to search for the secrets of Uthus’ seal, which kept him under Vermon’s control.

He needed his freedom first. The problem of his slavery bothered him so much and made him feel great anger that he could not find an outlet, especially since his condition differed from the servants whom Vermon hired, fired, and paid money for their services.

He also suspected that the seal was the cause of restricting his ability to fully use his powers, and that troubled his mind and left him too worried.

What if tomorrow comes with more pain and fears to paralyze him? How could he protect himself against Vermon’s abuse without the use of his powers?

Orb did not sleep that night. He was haunted by these venomous thoughts and was shivering with cold and trepidation.

***

The next day, Vermon sent his servants to get Orb out of the isolation room, making him wear a thin, white shirt, pants of the same color, and flat leather shoes.

He ordered them to get rid of the bandages on both his feet and sealed hand which were relatively healed but were a bit inflamed.

Vermon also deliberately violated the physician’s instructions when he forced Orb to remove the bandages from his back.

When the servant boy, who is in charge of changing Orb’s bandages, saw Orb’s back looking hideous and his wounds irritated, he suspected that his master channeled some of his Uthusian energy into the whip when he flogged Orb.

Whether intentionally or accidentally, it left the skin in a terrible condition that required weeks to heal.

Meanwhile, Orb did not understand the necessity of removing the bandages on that day and felt uneasy about it. He considered resisting but held back as that would provoke Vermon into retaliating against him with even more violence.

Orb was taken by another servant to the front courtyard with his feet and hands bound with ropes. Luckily for him, walking on his feet was bearable after receiving sufficient rest and treatment for a few days.

When he stood next to Vermon, who mounted his horse, Orb was allowed to put on a black hooded cloak to cover his body and the upper half of his face.

As for Vermon, he looked magnificent wearing a thick red coat, white pants, and long leather shoes with medium-height straight-sided heels. The wide belt around his waist carried his axe and whip, and over his head was a peculiar-looking cap.

The cylindrical-shaped cap, draped with black fabric, was lined with rows of gold and silver coins covering the entire headpiece and revealing the position of the wearer and his stature among the sons of Uthus.

It was a cold afternoon, and before the two of them set off to their destination, Orb made attempts to examine Vermon’s sharp features at the time, but he could not take a good look each time because of Vermon’s restless movements on his horseback while he spoke sideways to his servants.

Orb was startled when Vermon released his energy to form in one of his palms a metal strap and shot it toward Orb’s neck to spin around it and lock itself like a collar. This caused Orb discomfort, yet he was unable to resist it because of the restraints around his hands and feet.

Then, using his Uthusian energy again, Vermon released from his palm a short red chain that gradually changed to a metallic color and clung to the collar around Orb’s neck.

Orb feared another ruthless torture of dragging him on his feet as Vermon’s horse began walking until it passed through the gate.

However, Vermon’s horse continued walking elegantly, and Orb was compelled to follow without betraying his extreme anxiety about Vermon’s asking his horse to canter. Orb then, gathered his courage and feigned composure.

“Where are you taking me?” He asked.

“Carnival of Shadows,” Vermon replied after a long moment of silence and without looking at him.

The road from Vermon’s house to the Forest of Shadows was long but smooth and easy, its red dirt was strewn with bushes of wildflowers and lined up with ancient pine trees to the woodland entrance.

“Carnival?”

For a moment, Orb thought that it was an ordinary carnival like the ones that take place in other monarchies, a popular occasion involving processions and music. A place where markets are opened, delicious food is sold, and everyone, young and old, frequents it to enjoy their time.

However, Vermon proceeded to explain the nature of that carnival. “It is not an ordinary carnival; it is so called because it is held in the middle of the Forest of Shadows, and in which only Uthusian masters gather with their slaves to play games and enjoy their time,” he simply said.

“Are you going to sell me?” Orb sounded anxious.

Vermon glanced at him, amused to see him worried. “No. Uthus’ law forbids the selling of slaves in our empire, and as long as you are sealed in my name, you belong to me forever,” he answered.

Orb began to slow down as he turned his damaged eyes at Vermon. “But I don’t want to go,” he objected.

Vermon let out a chuckle. “You have no choice. You are my slave; you follow my will,” He then looked at Orb with bright eyes and said vaguely, “And you’re the highlight of the day.”

*** 

 Orb stopped for a moment, and Vermon pulled him hard to continue walking to his side. “Don’t make me hit you already!” Vermon threatened.

“So you intend to hit me later in public?” Orb’s heart was pounding in turmoil when he heard Vermon answer eagerly, “Of course! To discipline you!”

Orb realized that Vermon intended to humiliate him at the carnival as he had promised him days ago. So he went staggering along, not knowing what to say, or how to escape and save himself.

When the two reached the forest, it was relatively dark. The density of the leaves on the strange, naturally blue-tinted trees, along with Vermon’s silence, was not at all reassuring to Orb’s racing heart.

Still mounting his horse, Vermon startled Orb when he suddenly pulled off his cloak, without giving him any explanation, and glanced from right to left as if he was afraid someone would see what he did.

It was customary for masters to accompany their slaves to the festival with a minimum of clothes, for they were not allowed to cover their slaves with a cloak, a hat, or any kind of clothing that made them comfortable or showed any kind of extravagance in front of their masters.

Vermon was one among few who rejected this custom, especially in the case of Orb, whose body, although emaciated and thick with wounds, would attract the Arkosians because it leaked dark energy arousing their appetite to harm and attack him.

That was a rare abnormality that only a certain kind of slaves possessed. Commonly referred to as quarries, they would be treated as animals under pursuit or taken in hunting.

Therefore, a slave would be hunted and attacked by other masters, even if the quarry belonged to someone else, and this was something that the proud, possessive Vermon would never accept and allow.

***

The road narrowed and extended until it ended with a vast amphitheater with a central space surrounded by tiers of seats made of flat stone slabs that were carved and brought from the mountains.

The slabs descended downwards until they stopped at a circular platform of a wide area floored with flat, white stones. There were pillars of luminous glass lamps distributed around the amphitheater.

As for the spectators, even though they hid their faces behind square-shaped black masks with narrow slit eyes, they were known to be nobles and sons of high officials in the Imperial Palace.

They came to watch the procession, the music, the games, and Orb, the eleventh slave of the Imperial Glorious Knight Vermon, at the invitation of the latter in their secret gatherings.

On the other side was a full row of men, who were not wearing masks, but all dressed in red coats, white pants, and the prominent cylindrical-shaped black cap with gold and silver coins just like Vermon’s. These were the owners of the slaves who will be participating in the controversial carnival.

The Carnival of Shadows was an annual event held for one day in the Forest of Shadows. However, it was neither authorized nor recognized in the empire given the level of brutality and abuse the slaves would be subjected to with the consent of their masters.

Yet, none of the high-ranking officials could interfere because the carnival was considered a form of private entertainment started with and organized by the nobility of the empire who never officially discussed or announced it.

The citizens of the empire, who heard rumors about it, were conservative about its nature and would never mention it in their social gatherings.

They believed that they should not intervene in the nobility’s private affairs. And they knew that whoever tried to sneak into the forest on the day of the carnival never made it out alive.

Vermon left his horse tied to a tree trunk and dragged Orb behind him with the end of the chain extending from his neck collar without looking at him.

When Vermon began descending the stairs with Orb following him with anxious steps, a prodigious beating of drums was heard.

At that moment Orb believed that the Carnival of Shadows has started with the arrival of the two, and everyone was waiting for him eagerly in that dark and cold secluded place.

Orb felt shivers of unease suddenly sweeping over him and did not know what to do.

***

Vermon and Orb were surrounded by two rows of boys wearing red hooded cloaks covering their strong physiques and heads. The chilling designed masks which hid their faces were painted in white and adorned with gold.

Each one of the boys was holding and beating a golden-adorned big drum in front of him in perfect rhythm with the others. Attached to their drums, were red cords, and strange amulets.

Behind each drummer, a bell ringer held with both hands a handbell of medium size and rang it in a slow clockwise motion every time the beating stopped, creating melodious but eerie music.

The boys chanted in a thick, war-choir-like voice that awakened the fervor of the Uthusian spectators but sent chills of apprehension down the spine of Orb.

From the south, from the north,

We have come to dance for Uthus.

From the West, from the East,

We have come to sing for Uthus.

None is worthy of living save us,

long live the sons of Uthus.

Then, the chorus got louder and louder, and the voices of these present in the amphitheater shook the forest by singing along with the choir and repeating the chilling lines with much vigor like an anthem.

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Orb’s heart was palpitating, and his hands were sweating as he felt to what extent he was objectified and turned into a mere highlight of a dark event.

He was not only a stranger in that land, and new to their strange way of life, but also alone with no friends, family, or anyone he could rely on for support and protection.

He could not escape from the power of such a sadistic man who brought him here to hurt him. He could not escape the crowds who thirsted at the sight of him being subjected to all kinds of torment and humiliation. He could not escape his fate and the evils to which he was about to face on this day.

With only one blurry eye, he could see the sizes and distinctive colors of the choristers to his left and right, the spectators, and the other side of the arena where red-clothed demons were seated and that particular scene increased his secret fears.

When Vermon and Orb descended the stairs, they were taken to the center of the white arena. While the two-line choir continued circling them and chanting, Vermon turned to face Orb, who seemed insignificant in size compared to Vermon at that moment.

“It will be your turn soon, so be reasonable and do not act foolishly,” he warned.

“My turn to do what? You haven’t explained,” Orb felt his lips dry as he asked his question in great concern.

“Your ignorance will add to my pleasure,” Vermon smirked.

Orb stretched out the slender fingers of his right hand and grabbed Vermon’s wrist in a strength that startled the latter and made him furrow his eyebrows.

He felt Orb’s fingers sweat and tremble and realized that this stubborn and disobedient slave was frightened and panicked.

He might want to withdraw or beg me to excuse him from participation, Vermon guessed.

He saw Orb open his mouth, wanting to say something, but hesitated a lot as his pride prevented him from humiliating himself in front of his enemy.

“What’s wrong with you?” Vermon frowned.

“I …”

“What?” pausing for a moment, Vermon scorned, “Has the cat got your tongue?”

“I — I refuse to participate,” Orb said in earnest.

“What?” Vermon smiled in a mockery that showed his fangs. He then leaned toward Orb, and with his eyes wide open, he said, “You think you can refuse? What happened to your vanity? Ah, too late Orb!”

“I’m worried, that’s right,” Orb admitted, “but I’m not a coward!”

The procession stopped at that moment with the two gazing silently at each other. Two masked attendants wearing red and black garments like these of the choristers came over to take Orb, so Vermon removed the chain and kept the collar around Orb’s neck.  

Without resistance, Orb was taken to an all-wooden single-storied shed with the front side unenclosed. The construction was overseen by more than four armed attendants to ensure that no slave escaped the event.

Inside the small shed, more than twenty slaves were grouped together like a flock of sheep and were forced to sit down with both legs tied as if they were being prepared to face slaughter or torture. These young men and boys, who wore nothing but white pants, were sitting on the ground, despaired and lifeless, without seats or a comfortable rug beneath them.

At first, Orb did not sit but remained standing on one side trying to recover his rapid breathing and calm his pounding heart, which feared the unknown awaiting him.

He then sat on one knee by the side of another slave. “Excuse me, can you describe to me what you see?” he asked.

The boy looked at Orb for a moment and realized that he was blind. “You are lucky that you are blind—before you, there is only a bunch of demons and imminent death,” he sniveled.

***

When Orb was taken to the shed, one masked attendant walked across the arena while holding a one-meter-long horn. He then, took a deep breath and blew it with force three times to signal the end of the procession.

Thus, the masked boys resumed beating the drums, marched around the arena, slowly climbed up the stairs and exited in the same manner they got in.

The first to start the game rounds was Barloschios, the Imperial Treasurer, nicknamed “The Fanged” because in between his neat teeth dropped two visibly sharp yet charming fangs.

Whatever he did with his mouth, he would always impress, intimidate, or charm others around him. His true age was unknown, and despite his young, charming features and refinement, he was exceedingly cruel and ruthless toward his servants and slaves.

Barloschios was so brutal in his treatment to the extent that all his slaves were constantly injured and permanently scarred. Occasionally, he would not let any of them live long. Sometimes, he would take advantage of the carnival season to kill them all for amusement and change.

When Barloschios left his place among the masters and went down to where his slaves gathered inside the shed, he struck the ground with his black cane three times to summon them.

They came hastily and stood before him with the signs of panic visible on their pale faces. Their cracked lips and heaving chests reflected the terrible emotions deep within.

They were eight young men of different ages, but the youngest of them was not more than twelve years old. All of them were bald, bare-chested, and barefoot, and none of them dared to look at their master, whose palms rested quietly on his cane.

Then, everyone heard Barloschios’ raspy voice stating the law of the game in brutal brevity that excited the spectators and made them cheer.

 “Whoever rids me of you shall live like a king.”

He meant for the eight to fight among themselves, and if they all perished except for one, he would have a dignified life under the wings of his master.

After that brief statement, Barloschios coldly threw his serrated knife in the middle of the arena.

“Now!”

A few moments passed and none of the terrified slaves stirred. They were frightened by the law of the game and the principle of killing a man for amusement.

Furthermore, his announcement that day and his intention to kill them was an explicit statement to end the curse of Uthus’ seal that marked their bodies, and therefore they would, inevitably die on that day.

Due to their delay, and after Barloschios sensed their reluctance to participate in the game, he held the silver grip of his antique black cane and swiftly waved it in the air before thrusting the rapier-pointed blade, which was hidden inside, into the chest of the closest slave to him.

Everyone witnessed the cane-sword pierce the boy’s heart and come out the other side, and when the latter fell dead, Barloschios coldly drew his blade and left it hanging in the air, preparing to kill another slave while the crowd cheered with fervor for more death and more blood.

As a result of what had happened, the seven who remained ran to the center of the arena, fighting among themselves to get the knife, amid even more cheering from the crowd.

Barloschios however showed neither joy nor excitement. He stood frowning, tightening his lips, and examining his treasured weapon stained with blood when he spent his entire morning polishing it.

Alas, his mood turned sour at that moment owing to the reluctance of his slaves before his law.

Barloschios was able to sense black energy oozing out of someone on the other side of the arena. He squinted his ice-cold eyes to look for the one who emitted it audaciously over there.

He turned his eyes between his slaves, as they perished one by one, and Orb, who stood alone with his tied-up hands in the front side of the shed.

It is him!

It was not only the black energy of Orb that caught the attention of Barloschios, but also his appearance; he was wearing a white shirt and flat leather shoes, when he was supposed to were nothing.

He was also, wearing a façade of indifference unlike the rest of the slaves sitting in the shed behind him whose faces wore unmistakable expressions of fear and despair.

It took some time until Barloschios’ slaves killed each other and only one of them survived. The winner, who was panting and believing that his master would carry out his promise, ran to Barloschios and kneeled before him with the bloody knife in his hands.

Barloschios then, picked it up with his white handkerchief so as not to stain his glove, and then, in a sudden move, stabbed the slave in the middle of the neck, bringing him down dead with blood gushing from his mouth. Then he threw the handkerchief and the knife aside.

“Did you believe that you would live like a king? Didn’t you know there can’t be two kings on one throne?” everyone heard him say.

The crowd’s cheers for Barloschios’ brutal act were a criterion for their enjoyment of the game and their approval of what he did. They then began to hit the ground with their high-heeled shoes, demanding more brutality and excitement.

Vermon, on the other hand, kept his eyes fixed on Orb, watching his reactions from afar. He was thinking about his strange behavior earlier when he grabbed Vermon’s wrist and stopped him as if he wanted to say something important.

What was that fool thinking? Why didn’t he talk to me earlier? Why now?

***

While the attendants were busy removing the corpses from the arena, Barloschios stood in the middle of the arena addressing everyone.

“Nobel men of Arkosia, the empire’s Glorious Knight, Vermon, son of Uthus, has promised to present his new slave, whom he captured abroad, and to share with us how he would be disciplined. Shall we let him proceed now?”

Vermon was stunned by Barloschios’ statement and his interference in his private matters. It annoyed him that Barloschios imposed the timing of Orb’s participation without prior agreement.

He suspected that Barloschios was interested in Orb. However, it suddenly dawned on Vermon that Barloschios might have sensed Orb’s black energy and identified Orb as a quarry.

Being the excellent treasure hunter he is, I am certain that he identified Orb as a quarry, and wouldn’t let go. No, he won’t leave Orb alone, Vermon thought to himself. He must be planning something.

Given Barloschios’ important position in the empire and the loud cheers of everyone present, Vermon could neither resist the pressure around him nor refuse. Therefore, he left his place among the slave owners, went down the steps, and met Barloschios halfway.

“You have a delicious quarry. I can’t wait to see a good show, Vermon,” Barloschios smirked.

Vermon ignored him and maintained a calm façade; however, he was infuriated on the inside. Wonderful! I was right! This monster has discovered Orb’s energy and will cause trouble from now on.

As soon as Barloschios took his seat among the other lords, he leaned toward another noble sitting in front of him and whispered something in his ear.

Tarsus, who was a close friend, turned to him and nodded in silent agreement. Then, the two turned their eyes to Orb who slowly walked out of the shed and was stopped by his master.

Vermon stood opposite Orb and released from his palm the chain to get connected to the metal collar that had been around Orb’s neck from earlier.

At that moment, Orb saw for himself that he was being treated like an animal, or worse. He felt that something inside of him had died, something he could not pinpoint. Faith? Pride? Hope? but it left him feeling a powerful wave of pain, despair, and shame.

He was surrounded by demons at the bottom of hell.

“Are you scared?”

Vermon’s question to Orb was unexpected, but it was spoken in a low tone as if he was sharing pacts and secrets with him. Orb said nothing.

Vermon’s peculiar aroma, his wild whisper, his mischievous intentions, and Orb’s sense of defeat before a metal collar were all reasons why he could not say anything.

Of course, I am scared but I would never run away, Orb admitted.

Vermon did not wait for him as he turned and marched with pride to the center of the arena while the chain, which extended from his large palm, grew in length. Meanwhile, Orb remained standing and did not follow him.

“My lords,” Vermon spoke, “I got a valuable catch from the kingdom of Empamalangon. I rescued him from so many dangers. I gave him the seal of Uthus and the honor of my service; however, I found nothing but disobedience and rebellion in return,” he paused to enjoy the utter silence of the entire amphitheater.

 “He attacked my servants, attempted escape, and when he failed, he tried to kill himself, and above all,” Vermon looked at Orb, “he plotted to kill me with sleeping incense sticks.” He shamelessly twisted the truth.

As soon as Vermon finished his speech, shouts of hatred and jeers were directed at Orb. Indeed, Vermon’s simple introduction was enough to inflame the crowd’s feelings, but angry demands were also echoing in the forest from the crowd.

“Discipline him, Vermon!”

“Dismember him!”

“Who does he think he is?”

“He deserves the harshest punishment there is.”

At that moment, Orb was strongly pulled toward the center of the arena by the metal chain attached to his collar.

He staggered to the center as a drunken man but did not fall and hated Vermon for not telling him what he was supposed to do.

Orb stood before Vermon’s red silhouette and big build, and heard him addressing the crowd, “Gentlemen, I have promised to discipline him today and I will teach him a lesson he will never forget!”

“Do you really have to — drag me — to this hell?”

The words came out of Orb’s lips at last. They were clear but choppy and fraught with desperation. Orb did not expect that Vermon would hear them.

“Did you hear? He dares to argue with me!” He exclaimed in excitement.

“I’m not! —I’m telling you that I don’t want to be mistreated,” Orb frowned and shouted at him in sudden anger.

Vermon paid him no attention, and instead spoke to the crowd, “Did you hear? This blind slave imposes his terms on me!”

At that moment, Orb realized that every word he uttered was considered a threat and insult according to the customs of the Arkosians present at the carnival.

He also realized that Vermon was taking advantage of this to ignite excitement in the hearts of those present who heard about Orb and came to see him.

Orb realized how strong Vermon’s words are as he ignited hostility and hatred in their souls. Feeling overwhelmed, Orb remained silent as the crowd shouted a new wave of demands and other insults.

“Lash him, Vermon!”

“Cut him to pieces!”

“Have no mercy on him!”

“Bastard!”

Orb gazed at Vermon all the while and could not discern his emotions. If his tormentor wanted him to be the highlight of today’s event, so be it.

***

Thank you, dear friends, for reading this chapter.

NOTES

Suspendrom (valley). [Pronunciation Guide: The English word suspend-rom]

Barloschios Tosckas. [Pronunciation Guide: Barloo-she-us]

Tarsus. [Pronunciation Guide: Tar-sos]

The illustration of Lord Barloschios is done by https://www.instagram.com/lanhacy/

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