Night's Children: Dum Spiro, Spero

Part Two: The Servant

Chapter Two: Amity

It had been almost a year since the boy had been assisting the man in the quarry, and he still frightened him. The boy knew it was ridiculous to be scared of him, the man had saved his life at least a dozen times by now by hiding him from the Regulators, but there was this odd intensity about him- one that was far too similar to the boy's old Lord.

The nights went on monotonously, but that was fine for the boy, he was used to monotony. Being a servant instilled a phenomenal amount of patience in someone, even someone as young as he was. He noticed, with some glee, that his scrawny arms were beginning to acquire definition from the grueling manual labor, and his endurance rose. His complexion was no longer quite as sickly as it had once been.

In a warped sort of manner, life in the quarry was almost better than his life had been as a servus. In both there was always the fear of imminent death, but here, he at least stood a fighting chance. Plus, he had a…

The boy's large green eyes flickered up to the man who had saved him in the labor pits. He was working, chipping away relentlessly at a huge slab of what appeared to be granite. Sweat beaded on his forehead, but his eyes were blank, his mind obviously far, far away from here.

The boy gave a crestfallen little sigh, he could tell that the man had telepathy. It was obvious in the way his eyes would occasionally glow yellow. The boy had only the ability to communicate mentally, as it made him a more efficient messenger. He couldn't search memories, or steal hope, or anything like that. He could only 'speak' back and forth.

"You're missing some," Came the guttural voice of the man, he rarely spoke so shock filtered through the boy.

He glanced around, and felt his face heat up when he noticed all of the strewn bits of rock that were on the ground. "I'm sorry!" He squeaked, bowing and beginning to scramble with the rock basket.

The man only nodded, and mumbled under his breath, "There's no need to bow…"

But the boy wasn't listening as he too, became completely absorbed in his work. Just like the man was.

The boy looked up to the man, despite fearing him somewhat. He was smart- that was apparent in how he always managed to evade the Regulators- he was kind- after all, no one else would have defied their masters to help out a sickly child- and he was tough both mentally and physically. The boy inwardly aspired to be like him, to be strong and to help others less fortunate than himself. The man reminded the boy of the goddess he had seen so very long ago, the one that had given him a smile…

The boy hauled the rocks up with less effort than usual and he totted over to the collection point. He noticed a few of the other workers sending him disbelieving stares, surprised that he was still alive no doubt. But quickly, they returned to their own labor, realizing that distractions often led to demise in this land of eternal darkness.

The boy resisted the urge to tilt his head up proudly, amazed at his own accomplishment, because he knew it was not really him that had ensured his survival. He had been helped every step of the way by his protector. He was incredibly lucky with his circumstances, and something that could eventually grow into a smile crept up on his face.

The overseer, Miran, gave the boy a harsh look, "You're dawdling, shrimp!" He spat unkindly. "Get back to the quarry work!" There was a harsh snap of a whip by Miran's leg, indicating that soon it would be across the boy's back.

The boy's eyes widened nervously, and he increased his pace, bare, bleeding feet slapping against the dusty ground.

The man with the intense stare eyed him critically for a moment, before he sighed, "Don't let them push you around."

The boy froze in his step, "Excuse me?" He asked in a high pitch, not sure if he had heard him right.

The man gave a slight shake of his head as the tip of his pickaxe slammed into the rocks' surface, "One day, you'll see that you're much better than Regulators. Then maybe you won't be so afraid."

The boy was confused, "But we're slaves-"

"Yes," The man agreed solemnly, "But that doesn't mean we're trash."

The boy fidgeted nervously with the hem of his worn tunic that stopped just below his bony knees, "But-"

The man could sense the argument on the boy's tongue, because a flit of irritation crossed his face, "You'll understand one day." Was all he said, knowing that for now, his words wouldn't mean anything to the boy who only knew how to be subservient.

The boy shifted his meager weight between his two feet unsurely, hesitant to say anything else. To him, his life had been dictated by only one purpose- to serve those above him. Anything else was superfluous.

But…but the man had never had a master, and he still seemed to hold a purpose.

It was something to think over.

Absently, the boy went back to picking up rock chips, and he heard the repetitive grunts from the man when he reverted to his routine. There was something serene about working for no purpose, for not trying to please anyone and worrying only about his own needs, his own survival.

It was the closest to entitlement the boy had ever gotten. His life was his own to lose now, and it was a rather liberating sensation as the reality slowly dawned upon him day by day.

There was relative safety in the labor pits, and the boy was happy, or as close to happy as a servus could get.

He didn't realize that his entire world was about to yet again change drastically.

OoO

Screw it, it's nice to write short chapters lol. Thanks to readers and to Batsu Simisu-Chan for reviewing!

Next Up: The Debt