Here it is... after a HUGELY long time, I have to confess. -hangs head- Just suffice to say I had a lot else on my mind.
Disclaimer: I do not own YGO.
Not How I Wanted
Chapter 2
"Three."
"Six."
"Two."
The die rolled across the chipped wooden table, spinning for a second before thudding down. There was a whoop of one of the watchers, and groans from the other three.
"I win! Three! Ha, told you it was my lucky number!" The man held out his hand. "Go on, boys, pay up."
Grumbling, the others dug in pockets and drew out a few grimy coins, which they handed to the winner.
"Hey, you lot! Get dressed, you morons - his Lordship is back!" The young man who had burst into the room and spoken had thick brown hair that curled wildly, stopping severely at the nape of his neck. He grinned at the stunned expressions of the men in the room and swung himself out of the door.
"Back? Already?" The winner of the dice, a broad-shouldered man roughly in his thirties, judging from his weather-beaten face, shook his head and got to his feet. "Come on, you lot."
"We're coming, Tym, we're coming. Just getting over our loss, you know?"
Tym jingled the money he had won and laughed, "That's what you say every time, and yet you still play dice with me."
"Every dog has his day – and some dogs have had more then their fair share by now." The tall, muscled blonde man looked pointedly at Tym, who laughed and began to shave, standing by the old, crack mirror in the corner.
"Well," sighed a sweet voice, "I suppose we'd better get ready, too." A young, freckled boy, barely out of his teens went to his bunk and picked up the jacket draped across it. The two who remained silent at the table watched him in silence as he dusted it off and put it on, standing just behind Tym and examining his reflection in the mirror.
One, a sinewy man with a scar running across his cheek and brown hair lightly streaked with grey, shook his head sadly before getting to his feet and saying gruffly, "Leave it alone, Jeff. It looks fine."
Jeff looked at the older man, startled, and then grinned self-consciously. "I suppose you're right," he conceded, stepping away from the mirror, his voice still perched on the fence between the sweet soprano of youth and a manly tenor. He nodded and then left, the eyes of the older man following him out.
Tym splashed water on his face and rubbed his now smooth chin appreciatively. "Come on, you lot – didn't you hear the man? His Lordship approaches."
"Yes, sir!" The blonde man stood to attention and saluted sharply, his broad grin marring the otherwise perfect movement. Tym returned the salute with a sloppy touch to the forehead and left, grinning.
He jogged along the long line of barracks, waving to people as he went, until he came to a wide, paved pathway. He stood and watched the men before him marching in perfect time, admiring the striking effect of their pale brown and gold uniforms against the background of a grove of trees. As they drew near he drew himself up and saluted to the man who lead them, who responded likewise. He waited until the troops had passed and then hurried down the path, absent-mindedly rubbing the four gold bars on his shoulder until they shone in the harsh sunlight.
"Sir!" A man jogged up, simply reeking efficiency, and saluted.
"Yes, Corporal?" sighed Tym, slowing to a walk. "What can I do for you?"
"Well, sir, Captain Morris asked me to ask you to – "
Tym held up a hand, and the man subsided. "Tell Captain Morris," began Tym quietly. "That I will deal with him later. His Lordship is my first priority." He began to walk swiftly away, ignoring the corporal's look of apprehension.
He stopped at the gate to the mansion and carefully signed his name in the log on the table, nodding to the man behind the desk. Once basic pleasantries had been exchanged, Tym wiped his shoes on the mat and entered the beautiful estate. He picked a small red flower up off the floor and placed it in his buttonhole, smiling at the cheering effect such a small thing had on his uniform. An open carriage rolled up to him.
"Morning, Elsa," he said, climbing on.
"Morning Commander!" smiled the woman driving the carriage.
"Where's Gert today, hmm?"
"Gone and got himself sick, so I have to do the driving."
"Well, I'm all for an equal world…" Tym settled himself down with his back to Elsa and organised his thoughts while the horses trotted smartly down the pathways and to the front of the house.
A big grey carriage was just pulling up to the front of the house. Tym watched it with a look of intense dislike on his face. The carriage stopped to let Elsa past, and Tym tried to ignore the desire to look through the windows. He failed, as he did every time, and turned his head to see several faces pressed there. His heart ached, but he smiled at them. One girl, who may have been beautiful if she were clean, smiled back, and the warmth and hope in that smile just made his insides shrivel up. How he hated the slave trade.
Lord Gahiji surveyed his troops as they marched before him in gleaming rows. It was an impressive sight. He smiled thinly when he saw the man leading them, resplendent on his pure white horse, turn and salute to his balcony.
He turned away from the view at his big bay window and stalked to his desk. As he lowered himself into his chair, something occurred to him, and he reached for a draw. One tug at the draw opened it to reveal a small dagger, sheathed. He drew the dagger out and unsheathed it, admiring the delicate flower etched in the side. His shook his head and sheathed it again, strapping it to his belt. Then he sank into his chair and stretched, using the movement to pick up a small bell. He rang it and a slim young man entered, holding a stack of books.
"Yes, my Lord?" asked the young man, placing the books carefully on the bookshelf by the doorway.
Lord Gahiji raised an eyebrow, but let it pass as the young man turned to face him. "Bring Akil here… tell him to pick which of the slaves he… desires…" He took malicious pleasure in seeing the uncomfortable look on the young man's face. "… for his reward, and take the rest to the kitchens, where they will be put to work."
"Yes, my Lord."
"Carry on."