Chapter 1: The Slave Tavern
"There are all going to laugh at you!" I said to myself. I had just three weeks ago been a top class assassin. Now I was being jerked into an unjustified worn down tavern. The multi-link shackles that bound me at my wrists and ankles, where far too much for my strength to handle. I saw the men in the tavern gape at me, and the classy ladies began to chime with giddy laughter, "What a silly girl!" they laughed.
I was brought into a rage and I wrestled against my restraints. One of the guards holding my chains yanked violently. I fell to the hardwood floor with a loud thud. Pain struck me. The tavern roared with immense laughter while I laid there whimpering until the guard tugged on the chains again, signaling me to my feet. I had never felt so low in my life. Everyone was eying me and waiting for me to be cumbersome again.
I gathered enough strength to continue the rest of the way to the raised display platform. The relatively short walk felt like a brutal march that was often sympathetically talked about in stories I had often heard of war prisoners. Then again, aside from the wealthy landowners, all of Exile was somewhat of a penal colony.
I would forever long to leave Exile and find a home in the Wealthy lands such as Archland and Kaana. Of course there was still Dagron. Dagron was a rich country but only for gold. It most certainly was not wealthy in beauty for the land there was said to be of mostly plateau, mountains, and desert. And I believe that wondrous scenery is the most important of all the characteristics of a great country, but beauty isn't necessarily grass, trees, or gardens. Even a desert can be beautiful. Colorful sands and the widespread sunset of the desert make it pleasant for those who know better to enjoy it. The crumbling and decaying earth of Dagron, however, is not a pleasure to endure.
Alas the dying land of Dagron was easily compared with my spirit. I had little left to put forth. My spirit had been broken and now all I had was a youthful pride. It was fairly odd that even though I was only sixteen years of age, my since of dream had been shattered. Why was I challenged with such a colossal burden? If my heart had been a vast sea it would be empty. Was there any hope lying buried in the cragged dry land. In a final comparison, that sea is now a scourging desert. A wasteland covering ancient secrets; that's all it was.
Now as I thought through my pain, I submitted to the situation. A man I presumed to be the auctioneer came forth and caressed me under my chin. I shuttered and wanted to bite the man's hand off for touching me with his vile, dingy, coarse, perverted hands. Getting over the touch I realized, although the man probably enjoyed touching me, he had to touch me because it was also his job to inspect me. After surveying me far too thoroughly, the man turned to the crowded batch of landowners.
"Beautiful ladies and noble gentlemen! If I could have your undivided attention." The auctioneer announced. "Beautiful…Noble!" I thought humorously. I wanted to laugh, but I knew that it would draw unneeded attention.
A grin crossed the man face when the room grew silent. Trying to imitate a storyteller, the auctioneer began to speak, "Arrested on numerous accounts of theft and prostitution, this girl was brought into the swenklers." I felt my face burn red as the man mentioned the words prostitution. It was not in the least bit true. In fact I had never even been with man before, let alone been bought by one. Then a smiled crossed my face, although it was only for a moment. They talked of prostitution being low and I agreed, but in a since they were buying me out for their pleasure right now.
"In the swenklers she learned to cook, clean, yard keep. She makes an excellent farmhand and an even better gardener." The man paused and looked at the faces of the crowd. He could see that they did not want me for any of the reasons they mentioned. "With out further ado," he redirected "I open the bid at 2000 parros. Do I have a wager?"
A man raised his number sign, "2000!" he said. "Thank you, sir!" the auctioneer said cheerfully."
From the back of the tavern a man raised his voice, "10000 parros!" He yelled.
"By the seas sir! Why such a high and noble bid so early." The man said in shock.
"I don't feel like playing games. As usual I will win the bid so turn her over to me now so I can take my leave!" The man in the back yelled.
"15000!" A new man mumbled, and the audience awed at the man. I saw the man stand. He was not very tall but was still taller than me. He had long, light blue hair. The hair, although tremendously different from most standards, was fairly enjoyable. It was fashioned in a way that was actually soft and clean. His face was handsome and his clothes were neat. He did not look like the other rich bidders, although I could guessed he was rich by his high bidding.
"Great Heavens we have a challenger!" The auctioneer announced jovially.
"17000!" The man in the back spat maniacally!"
"25000!" The blue haired man yelled.
Just like it had just begun, it ended. I could tell it ended when the audience including the man in the back gasped. "Sold to the generous sir!"
In a sense I was relived that the blue haired man had won. Although I was unsure if the man was amble or not, I knew he wasn't quite like the others. He had a handsome and young look but he also harbored as sense of wisdom and maturity. I knew that whoever this man was, he was deep. I could see it in his look. I can learn a lot about a person just by watching.
The guard walked me off the platform gently. I supposed he only eased on me because I was someone's property now. He took me to the man and gave him the chains. With no delay the man paid his debt and grabbed me by the arm and we exited. The moment we walked out the battered doorway I heard a ping on the ground. I looked to my feet and realized with shock that my bindings had been dropped.
"Why did you drop the chain?" I asked. The man did not speak immediately, instead he took a key he had just received and unlocked my shackles as well. They too fell to the turf with a thud. My breathing grew heavy and I began to rasp, "Is he showing kindness!" I thought.
"You are not a dog, and because you are not a dog you will not be chained. As a matter of fact, you are not low in my eye by any standard, for a beautiful women such as yourself is more than equal to my class." The man spoke flattery to me.
I was shocked again as the man talked of equaling himself with me. And he had done something no man or a woman for that matter had ever done. He called me beautiful. My face flushed. It was not from the man's flatter, but anger. It was anger because I thought that he had been taunting me. Because no one had ever told me I was beautiful, I could not help but believe that the man was trying to get under my skin. Even so, I would much prefer this man getting under my skin then any of the men in the tavern trying to get on it.
"Why the red face? You act as if no one has called you beautiful before." The man asked, puzzled.
"That is because no one has." I replied. "Why must you act so majestic?"
The man's handsome facial features grew hideous with rage, "But what a sin! All men should die for never saying so. Trust me woman, I know beautiful and you are it."
My face grew red like an apple, but this time it was from his flattery.
The man continued, "You will work for me, and that is my one wish. You will work for money. When I think that you have a sufficient amount of money to support your own life, then I will set you free. Until then you will work in my bar and be a bartender. As for me being majestic…you'll have to decide yourself."
At the time I cared not what job he gave me, because I was so enthralled at the fact that I would receive an income for the first time in my life. When I was an assassin I did not work for money. I work for my food, shelter, and the clothes on my back. That was all that mattered. Why did I need anything else? But this was different. Now I could start my own life and enjoy things that I had never enjoyed before. Maybe someday I could have started a family and had children to hold. Yes, a mother would be what I wanted to be.
The man and I walked through town, and for a little while we did not speak. We arrived at the stables and I understood that the man probably did not even live in this town. He more than likely did not have a slave tavern where his town was. As a matter of fact, there were only about six or seven slave taverns in all of Exile.
The man told me to wait outside as he went inside to fetch his horse. When he went inside I thought of running away. I knew I could make it, but unlike most criminals I knew that I had nowhere to run to. Not in Exile, a place where the sun was only up for a few hours, a place where darkness prevailed, and a place where the ground was never dry. Instead it was moist and cold. Numerous swamps caked the land and the occasional bog sprouted up.
The man came back with one horse and I gasped. I had to share a horse with him.
"Let's make haste." He said. "Because there is a storm coming, and I would like to be home before then."
Gently he took my arm and led me to the brown horse. He hoisted me carefully onto the saddle. I knew how to get on and ride a horse, but I wanted to enjoy his politeness. As I sat on the horse I waited for him to leap on behind me, but instead he just walked in front the horse and grabbed its reins. He then began to walk moderately paced down the rode that left the town. The man was so prideful that I was afraid that if I mention the fact that he did not get on the horse with me, he might get offended.
For the rest of the day I rode and he walked until he finally stopped and we took a break. I was heart broken for the man because he looked so exhausted, and I felt like it was somewhat my fault.
He pulled out what little he had in his day-sack and prepared a light supper. It was Chicken and rice. To him it was nothing special, but to me it was. That meal marked the first time anyone had ever fixed food for me because they didn't just see me as a property.
While we ate the man conversed with me. "So what is your name?"
"I was named Zabuza by father." I answered.
"Tell me about your father. Was he nice?" the man asked and I tensed up. The relationship with my father was a different tale, a tale that often left me tears. And just like all those others times I began to cry.
"My father was a monster!" I yelled.
"Why? What did he do to make you cry and loathe him?" the man asked sympathetically.
"M-My father was… he was a demon. And I mean that literally."
"A demon! Then that makes you one. You! Of all people you are a sin child, a henchwoman of the nether!" His harsh words cut through me ruthlessly. I began to stumble backwards as I tried desperately to get to my feet. I did not want to be there anymore. I had felt welcome, and I thought the man would be different from the others when I told him who I was, although I wasn't exactly who he thought I was. I was on my feet again when I yelled to him both dejectedly and ferociously, "I am not a demon! I am only half a demon. Even so, I am not evil am I? Have I not a pure heart?" I wanted to say more but I was cut off by the thunder. At that I turned and ran.
The man yelled after me and was soon too on his feet. He pursued me. I was so exceptionally fast that I saw that a gap was forming quickly between us. It was just then that the air began to fill with the sound of rain. It came so quickly and suddenly that it appeared as if it had been raining all along. The downpour immediately engulfed everything with wetness. I was astounded enough to slip, and I fell hard to the ground. I fell so hard, in fact, that I sprained my ankle.
I pounded the ground with my fist as my salty teary ran down my cheeks and then fell to the soaked ground. He was going to catch me. He was going to beat me and call me more names. He was going to be like everyone else.
I rolled on to my back to see that the man was already standing over me. His hand was outreached and he shook. He did not shake because the rain was cooling him. He shook because he was crying. I saw the same man I saw earlier before. I saw that he had spotted his error, and he would never forgive himself for it. But I would. I already had. Because the moment I saw his face I knew who he was, because as I had said, I can tell who a person is just by simply looking upon them.
I grabbed his hand and he pulled me to my feet. He wrapped his arm around my back and he slowly and carefully walked me back to our campsite. When we arrived he gave me blankets and he then quickly set off to calm the horse, which had been wildly bucking from the confusion. When all was calm he came to me and spoke, "Zabuza, words cannot explain the sorrow I feel for hurting you. I judged you, I spoke down to you, and worst of all I actually hated you."
"Kind sir. I do not care how you acted. It is the strong want you have to make it right that drives me. I ask you one thing. What is your name?" I announced.
"My name is Church, but from now on I am not just a name to you; I am a friend.
The rain, mud, and thunder made no difference to me that afternoon, because it was definitely the best day of my life. I had obtained something I lacked since I was old enough to understand the concept. I was given my first friend. Although my leg was dark and swollen, I lied and told him I could go on.
"Are you sure?" he asked and I nodded. He led me to the horse and again hoisted me onto it. I smiled and thought for a moment.
I laughed and held out my hand to him, "Church, I will only go if you ride with me."
He laughed and leapt onto horse behind me. He grabbed the reins and he cracked it slightly. The horse began to move.
I found it ironic that hours ago I feared that the stranger would ride on the horse with me, but now he was not a stranger to me. He was Church my only friend, the only person who had ever raised me to his level. Then I realized that he had actually put me far above his stature to make me happy. And he succeeded too. I was at a new height in my life. I looked onto my heart and I saw my empty, dark, dry sea become anew. I saw water, and I saw waves. It was not only the sea I saw either.
I saw the sky and the clouds painted on it. I could smell the sea breeze that made my hopes anew. One day I would be happy. I would be strong and would never let my heart brake again.
One day I hoped to encounter my father. And when I did meet with him I would tell him how much I hated him. I would tell him how I proved him wrong. He thought I would be a tool. He thought I would be like him. The difference between him, and me though, was that I chose my path, and I believed he could choose his too. He could change just like I did. And I would be waiting when he did.
I was no longer afraid to be laughed at because I had shattered my barrier. I had stepped out of my comfort zone and I stepped into the real world. I was now part of a vast new world that I could now graze and explore the new sensations of it. It was a world that I controlled not one that controlled me. I was no one's thrall anymore. I was mine and mine alone. I could be bid on, but I knew that I, like everyone else, was priceless. And I would explore my boundaries with the man of multiple personalities. He was Church, and he was indeed majestic.