Axl blinked as he peeked out of the wagon. Shabha was right beside him, poking her head out under his. They had finally reached the city, and she was enthralled. She'd never seen a big city before.

Axl wasn't nearly as impressed. The city wasn't large by modern standards. For a place with no modern technology at all, though, it was fairly impressive. The buildings were made of dun colored stone, but many had been painted with beautiful murals. Flowerboxes were very common, usually framing doorways and full of blooming flowers and vines. As Axl watched, a man carefully watered his box.

As the caravan rattled past the residential area, the streets became more crowded. Axl watched and listened, interested, as merchants loudly hawked their wares and bargained just as loudly. Most of the merchants operated from under striped awnings, with little tables set up beneath the shade. The items being sold were diverse and often exotic. Axl could see scarves, spices, weapons…

Axl's lips compressed as they reached a large complex of buildings. He didn't need anyone to tell him this was the slave pens and auction house… the people coming and going in chains and collars told him all he needed to know.

When the caravan master gave his order, Axl swung himself out of the wagon. He was in his full armor again, given back to make him more interesting to the slave buyers. Fortunately… or unfortunately… the metal bands that ensured his obedience were flat enough to fit neatly beneath it.

Axl had tried everything he could think of to remove them, but nothing had worked. No matter how quickly he moved, he couldn't tear the bands away before the pain hit him. He'd finally been forced to conclude the bands activated on his own intent… that explained why they sent twinges of pain through him when he envisioned violent acts against his "masters." And there was no way he could outrun his own mind. He'd even tried meditating in the hopes he could act without alerting the bands, but he'd never paid attention to X's meditation lessons. It quickly turned out to be hopeless.

The common slaves were escorted off to the main slave pens, and Axl winced at the smell of unwashed flesh and human misery. The "special" slaves, like himself, were taken to a much smaller complex. Axl and Shabha were parted then… Axl was taken off with several well-muscled slaves who looked like warriors, and Shabha was taken with the pretty girls. He waved a quick goodbye, and she smiled at him. He wondered if they would ever see each other again.

Axl looked around at the room he'd been ushered into, and stared at one of the walls. Weapons were arrayed on it, more primitive weapons than he'd ever dreamed existed. He couldn't name all of them, but he tried, and examined the ones he couldn't name. One in particular caught his eye… it looked like a bastardized cross between a broadsword and a scythe. He could picture Sigma using it to neatly lop off heads. It was that sort of weapon.

The weapons made him wish for his guns, but that could not be. When the slavers had questioned him about his guns and armor, he'd discovered the guns had been destroyed by whatever phenomenon had brought him here. They still looked intact, but their circuits were fried, and unlike himself, they had no auto-repair function. He still had them on him, but right now they were nothing but dead weight. Still, he did know how to use a sword. Zero had given him some instruction on that, and it would probably be useful here and now.

A tall, very blond woman in dark leather armor stepped into the room. She was wearing a slave collar, but seemed oblivious to it, looking them over with authority. Her body was very well-muscled, and she looked hard and tough enough to take on wild bears. She reminded Axl a little of Zero… her very presence demanded attention in much the same way the red hunter could manage.

She looked them all over, pausing on Axl with a frown. "What kind of gear is that?" She demanded, stepping up close to him to examine his armor.

"Um… it's titanium alloy armor. I was made with it." Axl glanced at the weapons on the wall. "I doubt any of those could penetrate it." The woman's eyes narrowed.

"Magical armor, then," she said. Axl shrugged… by her definitions, that was probably right. "Don't depend on it, kid. There are magical weapons." Axl almost said something, then stopped. If the collar could control him by somehow reacting to his intentions, perhaps magical weapons could hurt him. He probably shouldn't test it. "I take it that stuff is fitted to you?"

"Yes," Axl said, slightly confused. "I think so, I mean, it wouldn't fit someone else."

"Explains why you still have it… alright! I want you meatheads to show me what you've got." She turned to Axl, starting with him. "What weapons do you use?"

"My guns, but they don't work anymore. Other than that, a sword," he answered. She nodded shortly, and went on to the next man in line.

Axl quickly found out that one of his companions had no special weapon skills. Of the other two, one was familiar with an axe and the other could handle a scimitar and a crossbow. The woman's lips tightened, then she sighed.

"Alright. My name's Charmain, and I have the pleasure of being your trainer for the next six months. How well you do will dictate how much money we can make on selling you… and what kind of placements you'll get." Her voice hardened. "So if you like the idea of being fodder in the arena, feel free to slack off."

"Ma'am?" One of the slaves asked tentatively. She nodded, giving him permission to speak. "Other than that, what other positions could we be sold into?"

"Bodyguard," She rattled off quickly. "House guard, caravan guard, city guardsman, army private. And if you get bought by the army, they free anyone who reaches Lieutenant." Axl blinked, perking up slightly. But… climbing the ranks wasn't something he was really good at. And it would take a long time. "Here. Look through these weapons and take whatever tickles your fancy." Axl walked over to the swords, looking them over. He finally picked one that was approximately the same length as the beam saber Zero had drilled him with.

Charmain drilled each one of them, and Axl discovered, painfully, that a beam saber was very different from a real sword. A beam saber had a lot of flex to it where a real sword didn't. After several minutes of abortive drill, Charmain had Axl try a flail. He was a bit dubious at first… the length of wood, with the black iron chain and spiked ball, seemed like something out of the middle ages. But it worked a lot better; giving him the flex he was used to with about the same length as the sword.

Charmain called a halt to their drill, then gave him a quick assessment. "You're quick, agile, and strong and you have a lot of native talent. Your weapon skills are about nil, though." Axl blushed, but even with the flail he hadn't done too well. He'd always concentrated more on his guns. "That's not really a bad thing, since you don't have crap to unlearn. What weapons do you want to concentrate on? Pick three to start with, with one ranged. If you can master more than that, dandy, but that's for later." Axl hesitated, glancing down at his flail.

"I'd like to learn the flail, sword and throwing knives." He said. "And knife fighting, if there's time." Charmain nodded, and gestured to one of her assistants, who went to pick out the appropriate weapons.

"The flail isn't that commonly used, and you can hardly ever find magical ones," she said. "Swords are just the opposite. That should work well." Axl accepted a bandolier of throwing knives, and Charmain helped him fix it over his armor. The sword was picked out and put to the side, but he was allowed to keep the flail, along with a belt with a loop it was designed to hang from. Axl expected to feel a little silly, using weapons from the dark ages, but surprisingly he didn't. If anything, he felt… dangerous. Axl grinned at the thought, touching one of the throwing knives.

He had weapons again. It was a step up in the world.

The next morning…

Axl yawned, stretching until his back popped. The beds in the barracks had been well worn by countless other fighter slaves, and Axl wasn't used to being surrounded by snoring humans. Well, not all of them had snored. Some had nose whistles. And some probably made no sound at all, but Axl could hardly tell over the general bedlam.

He'd finally slept, though, and ended up feeling refreshed in spite of himself. Axl went over to the cooks to get a tray of food, and then found a place in the mess hall. He was wearing the same thin linen shift the slavers had provided him with, but it seemed to be common garb for all the slaves.

He regarded the food dubiously. There was a large bowl of some kind of nutty porridge, a small bowl of yoghurt, a hard-boiled egg and a slice of melon. He finally shrugged, and started to eat. The porridge was tasteless, but mixing yoghurt into it helped.

There was very little conversation at the breakfast table. Most of the other slaves were still half-asleep, rudely awakened at the crack of dawn. Axl was used to waking up quickly in odd circumstances, so that part didn't really bother him.

Soon, he finished, and jumped up as Charmain beckoned to him. He had asked her for new jumpsuits, or something comparable, to wear under his armor. He still had the original one but he usually cycled through several of them and had to replace them at least once a year. His current one wouldn't last long.

"Try these on," she said, thrusting an armful of clothing at him. Axl took it, blinking at the black padded leather. "Follow me." She led him to a smaller room, and watched as he changed. Axl was a little uncomfortable with that, but not too much… Charmain was his teacher, but she was a slave too. He didn't have to obey her.

Axl looked down at himself, and grinned. "Do I look as good as I think?" The new jumpsuits were padded in all the right places, like his old one. He glanced back at Charmain, and was surprised to see a rather sad smile on her face.

"You look wonderful," she agreed. "Now, go get your armor. You have a long day ahead of you."

That set his routine for the next month. Every morning, at the crack of dawn, he began his practice. Axl discovered that he was a natural marksman with any ranged weapon, not just his guns. Once he mastered the basics, his daggers went where he wanted, and so did arrows and quarrels. His skill with the flail also progressed, but to his dismay, he found he didn't really like using a sword. The lack of any flex was really annoying. He finally ended up concentrating on the flail and knife work, although Charmain also introduced him to the bullwhip. Axl loved the intimidation factor, especially when Charmain taught him how to scalp a man with it and catch the scalp on the fly. It wasn't really a weapon for serious, close combat, but the psychological factor was useful. And it could be coiled on his left hip, while the flail was on the right. He also learned how to use a shield, which was especially important in close combat.

Sometimes, Axl felt like a walking armory. Charmain seemed to be taking a special interest in him, and had rigged up some interesting holders for his knives. Some were meant to go under normal clothes, and Axl wondered what he'd be using them for. He would be in his armor most of the time, wouldn't he?

As it turned out, he was wrong about that. At the end of the month, he joined a special class. Charmain was standing at the front of the room, blank faced, and beside her was a handsome man. Axl blushed, rather interested… he was bisexual, and knew it, but rarely found other men instantly attractive. This one was an exception. Axl found his well-chiseled features and wiry muscles very interesting. His skin was dark, deeply tanned, and his hair was jet black, long and braided with beads. His clothing was a white silk robe, edged with gold braid, and he gave them a professional smile.

The rest of the class was a bit odd. Axl glanced around, and saw they were all the younger, less scarred fighters. In fact, they were all quite attractive, himself included. Axl hesitated, suddenly wondering what was going on. Then Charmain spoke.

"You have all been chosen for this special training class," she said briskly. "You have no choice, so resign yourselves to it. Here you'll be learning how to be concubines as well as warriors." There was a sudden spat of whispers at that revelation, and Axl stiffened in shock. He was going to learn WHAT? "Now, what are your sexual preferences? Be honest with me." She pointed at a redheaded girl first. A nearby clerk was posed to record the answer.

"Uh… men." The girl muttered with a fiery blush. Charmain nodded, then moved on to a handsome young man. Axl braced himself for his own turn.

"Both." He managed to say calmly as she asked him. Almost half the room had admitted to some degree of bisexuality, so he at least wasn't alone in that. But he was going to learn WHAT?

The thought was frightening and oddly attractive. He was still a virgin, and would love to change that. But this wasn't quite how he had envisioned it.

"Now, Tasheen here will tell you about what concubine training is like." Charmain stepped back, and the other man took over.

"I'm sure you've all heard stories about concubine training," he said, then smiled sourly. "They are half true. You'll be learning all five hundred possible positions and techniques of pleasure." Axl tried to imagine that, and failed. He believed it… he'd stolen Zero's copy of the Kama Sutra once, and managed to leaf through it before the red hunter had threatened to use his head as a softball… but five hundred? What did you do? And how much of it was really fun? "Although you might be relieved to know that most owners are creatures of habit. But the main part of your training will be in your table manners, makeup, dancing, playing instruments… even the way you walk." Axl blinked, and there were puzzled murmurs from the others. What was wrong with how they walked? "It's my duty to make sure that you will all look like gilded lilies. And that is where most of you will fail. Yes?" He pointed to one girl, who had raised a hand to ask a question.

"Sir… ah… how much will we be paid?" she asked tentatively. A slave was paid per week according to a strict caste structure within the slave trade. A menial slave was paid one copper a week, although that rule was sometimes disregarded. A semi-skilled slave was usually paid five coppers a week. That classification included trades like mason, tanner, and inferior musicians. A skilled slave earned a silver a week. That classification included concubines, warriors, musicians, scholars and skilled tradesmen. A very skilled slave was paid five silvers a week. That classification could include masterful sculptors, musicians, and strange specialties. All castes were entitled to free food and lodging, as well. Axl had wondered why people would buy slaves instead of just hiring someone, but apparently, slaves were cheaper and less likely to have other loyalties. They were also signs of status, like a brand new car would have been in his own world.

"Five silvers." Axl nodded, unsurprised. This kind of duel specialty had to mean they would all be sold for top dollar. "Are there any more questions? Besides the burning one about what exactly are the five hundred positions?" There was a titter through the audience, and Axl blushed. But he was glad to know he wasn't the only one wondering. "Well, I'll answer the burning question." He gestured to a clerk, who wheeled out a dolly loaded with thick books. Axl blushed brightly as he realized what they had to be. He was getting his own copy of this world's version of the Kama Sutra. "Your task for tonight is to read this over, look at the pictures, and try to memorize everything. Line up to take a book." They obediently fell into line, and Axl took a book with the others, still trying to wrap his mind around this whole concept.

He was going to learn WHAT?