Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY. RWBY is owned by RoosterTeeth and Monty Oum.
Chapter 7: The Slave
"Alssalf, I'll be heading out now. If everything goes according to plan, I should be back in Nazef soon," she said as she made her way out the door and into the Vacuo sun, pulling a white hood over her raven hair. A tanned and elderly man with a staff followed, his advanced age preventing him from venturing out too far.
"Kunn Baman, Zahrati," he murmured as she enveloped him with a hug, his white stubble rubbing against her cheek. Stay safe. His body was hunched with age, but he drew comfort from her presence.
"I will." she replied as she released herself from the embrace, and began jogging away towards the city gates.
"May the winds bring you luck, my child!" he shouted, his body too old to keep up with her. He leaned slightly on his staff, waving a hand towards her retreating form.
"I don't need luck! I just need a good meal when I get back!" laughed Zahrati, her voice breaking through the stifling desert air like clear chimes as she departed. Her white desert robe flowed around her feet as she ran. Her small pack, strapped to her shoulder, bumped against her hip. When he could see her no more, he returned to his humble abode.
It took ten minutes to reach the gates of Nazef. Along the way, Zahrati passed by many things that she would normally spend entire days exploring. Narrow alleyways that twisted and turned, easily misleading careless pedestrians. Fountains and other waterworks that gave people access to fresh water, courtesy of the giant oasis in the middle of Vacuo. Bazaars, bustling with life and chaos as people wandered, browsed, and haggled at colorful wares and paraphernalia.
The gate itself, sculpted with red sandstone from local quarries, towered over the region. The equally tall connecting walls surrounding the city were broken only by other sister gates around the perimeter. On the left side of the gate was a congregation of men along with some pack camels. Their weapons were sheathed and their shields strapped; their white robes layered like sand dunes. One of the guards stationed at the gate looked on with disinterest. Congregations of people were a common sight at the gates, so as long as no one was causing a ruckus, there was no need to take action.
One of the men spotted Zahrati and waved her over, which directed everyone else's attention in the group to her. He wore a white desert head cloth, keeping most of his face out of sight. His eyes were sharp, but one of them was milky white and had a scar running down to the cheek. Zahrati gazed into them with her own hazel ones.
"Took you long enough." The man began gruffly, but chuckled as she came closer, dissipating any notion of ill will.
"Sorry about that, Nusar." She shrugged. He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing of it.
"How is your alssalf?"
"He is doing well. He still likes taking walks to the bazaar and telling old stories to the children there."
"I see. I'll have to visit him when we return. It has been far too long since we have spoken, and I find myself missing his wisdom." He reminisced for a moment, before remembering the task at hand.
"Nothing much has changed since I contacted you a few days ago. The tracks have moved north, but it is still too close to disregard."
"How many should we expect?" She asked.
"Just one, but it very strange one at that. Most do not come within two days of walking distance, yet this one has. It is either very bold or looking for something, neither of which are comforting to consider."
"Alright. Shall we go?" she asked.
Nusar responded by barking out orders to his men, who quickly began preparing themselves for departure. In a matter of minutes, they were heading out of the gates of the city.
They hiked for hours and kept conversation to a minimum. Dry mouths led to drier prospects, as the saying went. Fortunately, they were quite hardy, having trekked among the dunes of Vacuo's deserts many times before. It was not until the sun dipped under the horizon and the stars twinkled into existence did they break for camp, quickly creating small campfires to keep warm in the frigid night.
Zahrati gazed upwards as she slowly chewed through some dried rabbit meat. The night sky of Vacuo was always a sight to behold for her. The light of the stars seemed to shy away while she looked at them. And there were millions upon millions of them, each a sight to behold. Many of them formed constellations and symbols, each with stories and legends that immortalized them among the darkness. For a time she was held, entranced, by their silent vigil over the night sky.
Having finished her impromptu meal, she laid down with a contented sigh, her head resting on her pack. Soon, sleep overtook her.
"There it is." He motioned quietly over the dune, his hooded head peeking over of the crest as the midday sun beat down upon them.
She focused her eyes, and instead saw a caravan line in the distance. Her eyes narrowed when she saw that some of the individuals had chains attached to their wrists and ankles, and there were about ten of them.
Slave traders. However, before she could take action, a hand rested firmly on her shoulder.
"Not the caravan. Look, over to the east." In a brief moment of confusion that temporarily held her anger at bay, she did not initially see anything. However, her eyes widened when one of the tall dunes began to shift, far more than by wind alone. She heard Nusar groan.
"Why must it wake now, of all times? Those fools!" Nusar barked, "Men, move!".
It happened all at once. As he gave the order to charge, the Deathstalker burst out of the dune, heading straight towards the caravan. It wasn't gargantuan, compared to those in the stories that she had heard as a child, but its claws were more than enough to cleave a man in two and its golden stinger large enough to gouge out a person's torso.
The men and camels of the caravan panicked, haphazardly running away from the Grimm. They spotted Nusar's group and made a beeline towards them.
"Please! Help u-" one of them began, but he was cut off as Zahrati and the others rushed past him and towards the approaching Deathstalker.
It was not one to look a gift camel in the mouth. Very rarely did humans intentionally charge at Grimm, so it instinctively chose to deal with that first, eager to run them down.
Their curved scimitars were by no means capable of outright killing it, but they would be able to chip off carapace and slowly work their way through to an exposed limb. Their bronze shields, polished to a shine, served their purpose as they redirected the desert sun into the beady eyes of the charging Grimm. The Deathstalker screeched as the blinding rays of light struck, and its rumbling charge faltered as it covered itself with its pincers.
The men held defensive stances around the Deathstalker in a semi-circle, keeping their distance and continually blinding it, while yelling and striking their blades against their shields to further assault its senses.
Zahrati ran around the outside of the formation, looking for an opening as the Deathstalker screamed in frustration. Had the shields not blinded as intended, most of them would have been trampled and flattened with ease.
However, like animals, Grimm were at their most dangerous when cornered. It swung one of its pincers outwards, far faster than Zahrati could have anticipated, and it sent three men flying backwards into the air. Dead or alive, Zahrati could not tell as she continued to look for anything that she could exploit.
Mother of- she mentally cursed as she rolled to the side, a golden stinger embedded in the sand where she had been previously, throwing up a plume of sand. Before she could retaliate, the stinger had lifted and struck another part of the formation to her left, forcing the men there to evade. The Deathstalker, sensing discord, began to inch forward, and it slowly began taking more liberal swipes and lunges as the formation slowly fell apart to the stinger.
However, the lack of dead humans frustrated the Grimm, so much that it began using increasingly excessive force and power in its stinger lunges. It was then that the stinger buried itself particularly deep into the sand, so that it could not immediately withdraw it.
"Now!" Nusar yelled as the men procured and threw a weighted net over the golden stinger and entangled it. The Deathstalker screeched in frustration as the men struggled to keep the tail down.
Sensing and opportunity, Zahrati reached behind the small of her back under her robes and pulled out a double-bladed axe head. With a jerk of her wrist, a multi-part shaft extended, until Zahrati found herself with a hefty and fully operational battleaxe. She hastily withdrew a small pouch from her belt, opened it, and poured its crimson contents into a small hold on the shaft in between the two blades. She then closed her eyes and concentrated.
Almost immediately, the blades of her axe gleamed, now lined with active burn dust, and the temperature around her rose considerably. With enough of it, she could cleave through stone with ease. With her weapon primed, she leapt high into the air, far higher than any normal person, and readied her axe to strike.
The Deathstalker screeched once again as it finally mustered enough force to free its stinger from the sand, flinging men into the air, but the net remained tangled around the stinger.
It did not register the descending figure as it made to continue its offensive, but Zahrati made it register the molten blade of her weapon with a yell. It let out a piercing scream as the axe buried itself into the plate above its eyes. It convulsed and bucked as its innards began boiling, effectively cooking it alive from within.
Zahrati gritted her teeth as she held onto her axe, the Deathstalker desperately attempting to shake her and her axe off. It could not roll over to crush her, but it spun and jerked from side to side. Its struggle gradually grew weaker, and with a final rattle of death, it collapsed and stilled, with the smell of burnt ichor lingering in the dry desert air.
She ripped the axe out, burnt flesh clinging to the blade. Sweat dripped from her forehead, both from the adrenaline and the residual heat that the axe was still releasing.
She hopped off the carcass and took a sip from her canteen. She then walked over to Nusar, who was tending to one of the wounded.
He whimpered and breathed rapidly as Nusar nursed his forearm, which was unnaturally still. Although the shield, which was now bent inwards, had absorbed most of the swing, it could not prevent bone from being broken.
"Easy does it now." hushed Nusar. "Zahrati, bring me my bag!"
She did so and handed the bag over, Nusar grunted in acknowledgement, then quietly rolled up his sleeves and got to work.
He re-set the limb, which elicited a pained groan from the man. However, Nusar quickly fashioned a quick splint from some rods and wrappings that were in his bag.
"There we go." he sighed, tipping some water into the man's mouth.
"Thank you, Zahrati. Go see if you can help the others. He'll live, but I need to ensure that he does not go into shock."
It didn't kill him, so we'll take what we can get.
Broken bones were not much of a concern when it came to the Grimm. As long as one survived, they could heal, and in time, fight once again.
Those who were flung into the air were in similar states of injury, and one was completely unconscious. Zahrati hoped that there would be no lasting damage as she helped in whatever way she could, which wasn't much. There was only so much she could do while she held her slowly cooling axe.
When she was no longer needed, she directed herself to the other problem at hand
The men of the caravan were profusely thanking any of the fighters that they came in contact with. One of them had some color on his robes, a well-decorated dagger on his belt, and a turban wrapped around his head. He seemed to be in charge, as he directed his men to calm the camels. The slaves stood still, mute, as people went about recovering from the attack.
Zahrati approached the leader, to which he opened his arms and smiled.
"As I live and breathe, thank you! That was a magnificent strike! You slew the beast like a hero in legends of old!" However, his enthusiasm faltered upon seeing the blank expression she wore on her face.
"Where did you find these children?," she asked, her voice betraying no emotion.
"Well... it would be wrong to say that we 'found them'," he chuckled nervously after a brief moment of hesitation. "We were able to acquire them for quite a discount! It was too good to pass up on the potential profits!"
"Release them."
His smile faltered, then returned.
"I can do no such thing, my lady." He tried to soothe her. "As traders, there is nothing wrong with us conducting honest busi-"
Whatever he was about to say died in his throat as he directly looked her in the eye. That was when he saw it.
"You're a monster," he whispered as his eyes narrowed. His hand fell to his side, resting on the dagger that was strapped to his belt.
Zahrati remained silent in response.
"What was I thinking? How could anything good come of having one of you help us?," he sneered in derision. He took a few steps forward with his chest puffed in arrogance, almost face-to-face with her.
"You're one of those disgusting freaks. Your birth was the result of two imbeciles who were too pathetic to know any better," he spat, spittle flying onto her face.
"Release the slaves," she repeated quietly.
"I will do no such thing. Since when did I have to take orders from a degenerate bitc-"
His words were silenced as a fist drove itself into his gut, forcing the air out of his body. He fell forward and promptly released the contents of his stomach onto the sand. Heaving, he raised his head…
...only for a foot to swing across his jaw, sending him onto his back. His vision swam as lances of pain raced through his head. With what remaining energy he could muster, he made to sit up, only to be stilled immediately as he felt the heat from her axe, its blade hovering dangerously close to his neck. A bead of sweat fell from his chin onto its face, and it hissed violently on contact.
"Zahrati!" Nusar called out, quickly walking towards her with the intent of stopping this foolishness. However, he stopped in his tracks when her eyes fell upon him.
There was no need to say anything as her gaze returned to the trader. She was willing and ready to kill.
"Now."
He turned his head to one of his men and slightly jerked his chin upwards, who went over to the slaves and undid their chains. They ran over to Nusar's men for protection, afraid of both the traders and what she would do.
"What now? Will you kill me?" he asked, refusing to make eye contact. From what she could tell, under that defiance was an undercurrent of growing fear.
"I will also be taking two of your pack camels," she replied, withdrawing her axe and throwing a small pouch from her belt onto the ground next to him.
"That's the only business I'll do with you. Consider yourself fortunate that I am not offering your head as payment instead," she explained, taking note of his confused expression. "However, if you still feel the need to conduct 'honest business' in the future, I will have no qualms about taking your life or those of your men. Do you understand?"
He kept his eyes focused downward and his mouth shut in submission, now that the confusion and adrenaline had worn off. However, he did not answer the question.
"Do. You. Understand?" she hissed.
He nodded hastily, appearing to have no notion of aggression or defiance.
Not good enough.
His head shot up in surprise and fear as the air around him grew hotter. The axe, which had been cooling, was now once again turning molten hot. Before he could react, he found himself pressed into the sand, a foot firmly pressed against his chest. His eyes met hers, and it was then that he felt true fear.
Black slit irises bored into him, cold and merciless.
"No, please!" he begged, his arms raised upwards in a final, pathetic attempt to defend himself.
He felt tears streaming down the sides of his face as the axe rose into the sky like a vengeful sun, the heat emanating from it becoming unbearable. Zahrati's face was blank as her axe reached its apex.
"Zahrati. stop!" Nusar yelled as he ran to her. However, he was far too late to stop this madness.
"PLEASE! NO! PLEASE!" he screamed, his squirming useless against her foot.
Nusar could only watch as the axe fell and the trader's pleas descended into panicked gibberish.
Time stood still as the axe hit its mark.
"Salaam, Zaiem Osman." Peace be unto you. Nusar greeted with an extended hand as he walked through the door. The room was simply furnished, with a low table and stout stools atop a large, maroon carpet. There were two other doorways: one leading to a small kitchen, and the other to their sleeping quarters.
"Salaam, Nusar. And please, no need for the title. I no longer lead you,"the old man returned the gesture with his own, his other hand clutching his staff.
"It has been far too long since I have visited. I apologize for my rudeness." He said as he took a seat.
"Nonsense. You lead your own men now, so I doubt you have much free time. I take it that they are well after your most recent expedition?" Osman chuckled as he poured two cups of water and handed one to Nusar.
"For the most part, yes. Many broken bones to deal with, but fortunately no deaths this time. Zahrati was able to strike the killing blow just as it began breaking our formation."
"That is more that we can ask for, Nusar. Even for you." he sighed in content as he took his own seat.
"I suppose you are right." Nusar contemplated. "How have you been?"
"As well as anyone can do in my age, I suppose. My hips don't move like they used to and I ache whenever it gets too cold, but I'm still alive and kicking."
Nusar smiled as he took a sip of water. Although Osman seemed old and feeble, there was no doubt that he still retained some strength from when he led their group of mercenaries long ago. Nusar was younger then, and learned much under his leadership. A leadership that they both reminisced about fondly.
"-and he said 'I offer to you the finest powdered ice dust'. Remember?"
"I do. Wasn't it actually just sugar in the end?" Osman ventured.
"Indeed, but we didn't realize it until our camel started licking it." They both laughed.
"As much as I miss leaving the city, my body is far too old to do anything useful. I hope Zahrati will be able to learn from her experiences in my stead," he said. His eyes then furrowed in concern.
"And where would she be? She hasn't returned for quite a while. Did she manage to lose herself in one of the bazaars again? Knowing her, she's going to spend it all on needless things."
Nusar stilled, not knowing how exactly to put his thoughts into words.
"Well, you see, I was going to collect payment for completing the bounty after I came to visit you. With that being said, I have not yet distributed her share, so she does not have anything to spend yet."
"Then where is she?"
"She is currently on her way to the settlement of Yusif, five days south from here" he stated, after an extended period of hesitation.
"Explain yourself." Osman said quietly, any trace of hospitality gone.
"We were able to bring down the Deathstalker, which had been trailing a caravan. That was why it had come so close to the city. But the problem arose when we discovered that the caravan had slaves from Yusif." He explained.
"It turns out that they had been abducted by a group of bandits, and they were transferred to the slavers to be sold for a split of the profit. So Zahrati took it upon herself to take them back."
"Foolish girl," Osman muttered. "I doubt the slave traders were happy about this arrangement."
"They weren't at all. But when she threatened their leader's life, they had no choice but to agree. That and two of their pack camels."
"She didn't kill him, did she?" Osman asked in shock, eyes widening.
"Fortunately, no. But she came close. Far too close. The sand next to his head became hot enough to burn his scalp. When she left for Yusif, he was still a mess."
And what a mess it had been. His bodily functions failed to keep his lower robes from being soiled, and his eyes were deranged as he continued to spout drivel long after she was gone.
To Nusar, Osman always held a quiet, inner aura of strength and resilience around him. But now, having learned of what Zahrati did, he looked absolutely drained.
"And yet, I cannot help but think that she would react that way," Osman sighed again, his head bowed in fatigue.
"She cannot bring herself to let go of the past, even after all this time?"
"Indeed. There is only so much I can do to pull her away from that darkness, Nusar. When she has witnessed firsthand the limits of human cruelty, I feel that it may be impossible to ever fully recover from it. You should know too. You were there with me."
Nusar leaned back on his seat, remembering memories that he would rather not remember.
"Over fifteen years." Nusar whispered. "It almost seemed like yesterday."
"Regardless, I believe she will be fine. She is a resilient person. That much we both know."
Nusar quietly nodded in agreement. Osman then chose to steer the conversation to a lighter topic.
"Do you keep in contact with your brother Maysan?" he queried, to which Nusar scoffed.
"Hardly. He's always keeping himself busy with work from the sultan."
"You should not be so harsh, Nusar. He is unfit for combat, so he is serving in his own way."
"He chose a coward's path, choosing a pen over the sword. What will it do against the Grimm? He can grow fat and complacent, for all I care." Nusar grumbled.
"Nusar!" Osman reprimanded. "I not hear of this. He is your family, and you will give him the respect he is due."
He attempted to retort, but was quelled by a sharp glare.
"It seems that I must apologize once again, Osman." Nusar finally admitted.
"He is also doing important work. Times are changing, and hidden gears are turning. If we are to confront the coming storm, we will need to rely upon his knowledge and influence as one of the many hands of the sultan." he explained with a softer tone.
"The coming storm? What are you talking about?" Nusar asked, perplexed. In the past months, there was nothing to indicate that anything was amiss, aside from a peculiar rise in Grimm extermination requests. But that simply just meant more money to go around, and it wasn't uncommon for fluctuations to occur every few years.
"I ran into Maysan a few days ago while I was walking around the local bazaar, and he told me about a recent stirring amongst the Grimm. Now, we both know that this is usually not a cause for concern." Osman explained, and Nusar nodded.
"However, he tells me that the sultan recently received contact from a messenger hailing from the kingdom of Mantle. They are extending a gesture of so-called 'friendship' as well as offering to open trade relations."
Nusar did not yet fully comprehend what he was trying to get to, so Osman continued.
"I believe we are dealing with more than just a coincidence. Contact from another kingdom during a period of more Grimm? And why now, of all times? They have never shown interest in us before, so I find this sudden forwardness unsettling. There is something they are not telling us, and I have a suspicion that it may involve more than just simply trade."
"What can we do?"
"For the time being, nothing. We don't know enough, but I urge you to be vigilant." Osman concluded.
"You should go collect your pay. The day is almost over." he pointed out as the sky turned orange as the sun began to set.
"Very well. It was good talking to you again." Nusar stood and brushed himself off.
"Likewise."
"Ila-liqaa, Osman." Until we meet again.
"Ila-liqaa, Nusar."
Zahrati once again sat by a campfire, but she was not alone. Around her were the slaves that she had rescued. They had been trekking for two days now, and they subsisted mostly off of the provisions found in the pack camels. Fortunately, there were more than enough to go around.
Although they sat by the campfire, she noted that there was an invisible gap between her and the slaves. It seemed that they were apprehensive of her, not because of her faunus nature, but because of her display of violence towards the leader of the slave traders. But she noted that there was a marked difference in the way they acted now as opposed to when they were in the caravan. Many of them were quietly conversing with each other, learning each other's stories as they sat around the fire.
Zahrati did not mind. This was a far better outcome than what could have been.
She sighed, tired from the extended trek, so she closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep.
"So what are you going to do with us?" A voice caught her attention. She did not open her eyes immediately, hoping that the new presence next to her would simply leave. When it didn't, she opened her eyes and and sat up. She saw a young girl, no older than ten, looking at her. Her skin was dirty and her clothes were tarnished, but her eyes were locked onto Zahrati's.
"You've taken us away from the bad men. What will you do with us now?" she asked again. There was no malice or concern in her voice. Just curiosity.
"I'm going to take you back home, to Yusif."
"Why?"
"It's not right that you have to live as slaves, so I'll make sure that you don't." Zahrati assured. The girl seemed satisfied with the answer, so she sat back down. However, she surprised Zahrati by stitting next to her. Before she could say anything, another voice sounded out.
"And why do you care?" This time it was a young man, a few years her junior. He had small tusks on the corners of his mouth. A boar faunus, perhaps?
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me. Why should I believe that you're taking us back to Yusif? For all we know, you could just be lying to us," he accused, suspicion thick in his voice.
Zahrati sighed again. She didn't want to deal with this. She was too tired to, so she simply chose to nip the issue in the bud. She gestured for the former slaves to come over, which they did with varying degrees of caution. The girl sitting next to her remained seated, a look of curiosity on her face.
Zahrati pulled back the robe sleeve on her right arm. It was faint, but on her inner forearm was a small symbol that looked like a sharp, upside down hook with a downwards triangle superimposed over it.
"This is a wasumm. A slave brand. Once you are sold to the highest bidder, it is common practice to brand the slave with a symbol unique to the purchaser sometime after the trade is complete." She looked at the scar tissue. It had slowly faded over the years, but it would never disappear completely.
"It was about twenty years ago. I was young then, no older than five, and my parents were killed by the same people that seared this brand onto my skin. I served as a slave for five years until I did something that displeased my former owner. He sold me, and on the way to another city I was rescued by my alssalf and Nusar. Nusar was the one with the milky eye." Zahrati finished. The slaves around her looked at her, their initial distrust gone after having heard her story.
"Alssalf?" the young girl broke in.
"Grandfather. Not by blood, but he is still my family." Zahrati explained with a small smile.
"So now you know why I am doing this," she stated, before getting back to the matter at hand. "We have a long day ahead of us, but it we are fortunate, we will be back in Yusif in one more day, so go get some rest."
With that, the slaves returned to their original seats around the campfire. Zahrati once again closed her eyes and laid back onto her pack, although this time with the company with the young girl next to her.
They all gradually gave in to sleep, with the stars in the night sky holding vigil.
A/N: Another chapter, another character. With this, the four major characters have been introduced. From here, the slow march to the inevitable war begins.
Some translations, in case you didn't catch them (based off of Arabic).
Alssalf: Grandfather or elder
Kunn Bamann: Stay safe
Salaam: Short for "peace be with you"
Zaiem: Leader, captain, or boss.
Ila-liqaa: Until we meet again
So in the middle of writing this chapter, a WoR segment was released on the Great War. I had been hoping that Roosterteeth wouldn't do so for a while, if only to let this story develop more. That being said, I don't have any intentions of significantly altering the plot in response to the WoR. If anything, I thought that it was a bit too black-and-white (yeah, yeah "history written by the winners" yada yada), so my goal with this fanfic is to explore the grayer areas, where hard choices are made and moral compasses are put to the test. If you have already seen the WoR, I hope that you can read and enjoy this with an open mind. For those of you who do not, the same applies. There's definitely more I want to say on this matter, but I can't articulate them well enough at the moment.
As always, reviews and constructive criticisms are much needed and greatly appreciated.
The Bard.