Oh come on! This chapter will explain EXACTLY what happened to Drew. Don't get your panties in a bunch ;)

I don't know who own Pokémon on the characters but it sure as hell ain't me.

Chapter 16: The Slave

Drew had not known what to expect of becoming a slave. He had known dark places and pain, and even loneliness, and he knew how to deal with those things even if he wasn't particularly fond of them. But nothing could have prepared him for this.

He had been stripped of everything but a pair of loose linen pants and it was that Kamesh had ordered his men no harm should befall on him on punishment of befalling to the same fate, or he had really been in a whole lot worse state. As such he had only been ridiculed on the road to god knows where.

He had been chained behind a horse, metal ring around his neck, forced to keep up with a neck-breaking speed that on naked feet really was almost an impossible task. The sun was harsh and the hot sand burned the soles of his feet. His scars on his back burned like hell but Drew refused to let one sound of misery pass his lips. It was like Gar all over again, only hotter.

It was actually a good thing he had the scars as it kept him from being flagged to keep up. They hurt, but kept the most soldiers at a decent distance. Drew had a feeling that Kamesh' people had some sort of respect for him carrying those scars.

But if anything, the pain reminded him of home and of May, and in this suffocating heat it was the only thing that kept Drew going. He was going to find a way home as soon as he knew where he was heading.

The trail through the desert was harsh and he was only given water in the morning and evening, just enough to keep him going, but not enough to keep his mind present. After losing track of days, sense of direction long gone, from the sands, ever-continuing sands, a high structure rose.

Weakened as he was, Drew could not make out the shape until he was a little closer but the men around him got more exuberant the closer they got as far as Drew could make out from their voices and expressions. Familiar as he was with their customs, Drew did not speak the language of this far-away land of sun and sand.

When people with carts met up with the party that was the army, Drew could make up from the sounds the sense of a city and then he realized Kamesh must have guided them to his capital, and from the faces, when they entered the city, they were happy to be home.

The sounds quieted when Kamesh raised his hand, "Og bren dra!" he said in that language Drew didn't understand. People cheered loudly and Kamesh pumped his fist in the air, and the crowd quieted again. A snort on the rope that chained Drew's neck made him stumble forward. "Eg corde! Eg corde nig mura! Se ho, Ilk nit mo druborden! Ilk, mur diares, hitpellan sul dorvet ! " Drew hadn't understood a thing but the mocking laughter told him they were at least insulting him and his people.

Drew truly didn't see his action as dishonourable defeat and the words, even if he did not know what they meant, made him angry.

"Se ho! Marevu!" At that moment, the sounds of celebration that had quieted returned full power and several women flitted past him in attempt to reach their husbands. Drew supposed that that elation was not much different from his own lands and he hoped that they all reached home.

He purposefully didn't think of May's reaction. He truly loved her a lot and the thought of hurting her made him almost consider his treatment now justified. He hoped she didn't see it as a betrayal.

Kamesh got off his horse and turned to Drew. "This will be the last time we will meet, General Hayden," he almost spat the name. "Enjoy your life as a slave," and with that and some short words the rope that held Drew was passed to a rather sleazy fellow and Drew was forced to follow.

The city mostly seemed to consist out of stone and clay and further there were more houses of clay, smaller with straw-roofs and people looked more miserable. At some certain point thought he had heard the snapping of a whip and the sounds of a heavy structure being moved. But they moved on fairly quickly and none of this could make a decent impression on Drew.

Eventually Drew's 'guide' pulled Drew inside some house at the edge of a plaza with a wooden stage almost. He opened a metal framework door and pointed inside, "Alur!" he said gruffly. Drew didn't understand so he didn't move. The man made a discontented noise and grabbed Drew at the back of his neck and pushed him inside. "Alur!" he said again.

Then he smashed the bars closed behind him. 'It must mean: 'Inside!'' Drew thought. Then he looked around and saw men and women of all sorts. People with pale pinkish skin, dark-skinned people, frail women both blond and black haired alike, tall and broad men, there were all here. It seems there wasn't made any difference in who was captured.

There wasn't anybody that said a word or even looked up when Drew entered and he suspected that was because they didn't speak each-other's language. Nobody looked as if they had been here a long time but like him they looked very travel worn. This probably was some temporary stop in whatever place they would end up.

So Drew complied and sat down next to the other people.

()()()()()()()()()()()()

Drew suspected it to be the first crack of dawn when they were pulled out of their cage. There was a lot of shouting of 'Olur!' which Drew supposed meant: 'Outside!', and there were panicked looks on the faces of his fellow prisoners. Once outside they were split into groups, people coming from other houses on the plaza as well.

The young women together, the older women, the heavier build males and the group Drew was sorted in, men with a lean frame. Children were not here, but Drew didn't hesitate to think there was a place for them too. All of these men were on the younger side and Drew didn't take insult to it despite him having had thorough form-shaping training in the army.

They were first looked at by the same man that brought Drew in the day before and the man that had been coughing throughout the night was removed from their group. Drew had no idea where they were taking him but he suspected it couldn't be the best place of all. Sickness was apparently immediately divided from the rest.

Then with group and all, they were put on the wooden platform Drew had noticed the day before. His group was to be the last. First off were the men with the bigger built bodies and groups of people came to inspect them; pinching arm muscles, opening mouth to check teeth, and looking people in the eye. Those who stared back were usually taken by big men wearing leather pieces of protecting gears, not really to be called armour.

When Drew saw money changing hands, it finally dawned on him that this was a slave-market. It made sense in some way and he could finally start to guess where people sold were taken. The men in armour probably came to get slaves for the pit-fights; Drew had heard about them in his own land. Back then he hadn't understood the entertainment of having people fight for their lives in battles that they couldn't win, but in a country that traded humans it made sense.

Other men had often guards that carried whips took the remaining of the first group. 'Probably heavy labour,' Drew suspected.

Then the older women were guided on stage. It was not particularly a large group and Drew was surprised to see that men and women with small children came to look at them. Apparently the slave market was not only a place of business but also a place for a family-outing. It might be because he hadn't grown-up in an environment this twisted, but the thought made him sick. To see humans like yourself merely more than entertainment.

As most of the women were bought by families, Drew thought these women could be house- or nursemaids. In a country monogamy wasn't practised it was probably logical to have elderly women help in the house, especially to the more jealous of wives. Besides the fact that he was born from such a thing, the thought that you needed to take precautions to avoid unfaithfulness made Drew swear to himself that if he got out, no when he got out, and saw May again, marry her, he'd treasure her more that he already would.

It made sense that the younger women were chosen for exactly the opposite reason. It reminded Drew too much of his own mother and he turned his eyes away. They were picked off one by one, and by the sound of the shriek they were also checked for purity. In public and Drew felt bile rise in his throat. Human trade, he decided, was a sick thing.

The sun was already at its highest point when Drew's group was pushed on stage. He didn't understand what they were saying but the sound of getting hurried is the same in every language. In a country without monogamy it's very logical that women too can have more than their husbands, and Drew wasn't really surprised to see women donned in beautiful silks and a horde of servants appear before the stage.

He should've guessed he would be put in that group and for the first time, Drew cursed his mother's good looks. In any way, he tried not to pull attention to himself and kept his eyes far-off. He doubted he would be released if not chosen but even of these people might not keep to a single partner, he certainly did and he had no intention of betraying May, no matter how forced.

But fate is a cruel mistress and soon an elderly woman, wrinkled skin and a stooped appearance, came up to him. Drew had seen her on the side of one of those woman clad in luxurious silks and Drew wanted to curse and hit her probing fingers away.

She might want to see his teeth, by the way she forced his jaw open, but to him she had no business touching his chest or abs, or anything else better left unmentioned. She clacked her tongue disapprovingly at his back but overall she seemed to be content with him and walked to the trader.

She signed to him and then shook her head at the reply of the trader. She pointed at her own back and Drew understood what that meant. It meant she thought the price too high for someone dinned with scars like him. The trader looked unhappy but then nodded and coins switched of owner.

Then she went back to Drew, and waited until he was released from his place. "Kra!" she croaked and then pulled him with her. That must mean; 'Come' Drew thought. She pulled him up to her mistress, who apparently could see him as he could not as donned in silks and cloths as she was.

He passed the test apparently because a barely visible nod passed her posture. At this the whole company turned around and Drew was forced to follow, a rope still binding his hands.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Maybe Drew had rather fought the pits because this cloud of silk and heavy fumes he entered made him anything but comfortable. He was guided through it quickly, and then deeper in the house that remotely resembled a castle. Not one he was familiar with and one he already wished to see so desperately, but something that reminded him of puffs of whipped cream, in all kinds of colours.

It was clear he was bought by someone with a lot of gold. All colours that invaded his sight made him long for the cool stone of the home he was familiar with. Even when passing through he saw women fanned and fed and being pampered by men, boys, something on the crossing of that, around the same age as he was, a little younger. Their eyes were far-off and Drew didn't even get noticed by the lot of them, different from their cares.

Getting looked at, more than at the slave market, he felt the eyes of the women burn. Their eyes were not May's gentle, curious, somewhat mischievous blue eyes, but dark predatorily ones and Drew understood the longer the less about this strange country.

He got guided to a back room and Drew found himself breathing relieved. There were not a lot of men there even though the amount of cots told him it could be differently. Here however was the air cool and all the fluffy cloths were not present.

The older woman signed for a man not much older and a slender built like all of them. He had black hair and red eyes but his skin was pale. He wore the silk clothes without a care, silk pants that hung dangerously low on the hips and a sleeveless silk jacket that only reached his midriff. Drew got the impression it wasn't meant to cover a lot.

The woman said a few harsh words in the native language and the man nodded, even though the twitch on the side of his mouth told Drew he hadn't exactly lost all of his spirit. Then the old hag, Drew dubbed her that if only to himself, left and the man signed for Drew to follow him and guided him to one of the cots. They were not much different from what Drew had known in the barracks of the army.

He pointed for Drew to sit and then held one of his hands flat forward, and the other one with a finger up. Drew understood the signal for 'Wait here' and nodded. The man scampered off quickly and Drew had time to look around.

The males in the room were dressed like that man with the red eyes, or less; sometimes donned with jewellery, headbands and other small trinkets. Some of them were resting, eyes closed; others were staring into nothingness. They all had in common that they were somewhat curled up, some like foetus, others just slouching over themselves.

Just like the slave-market, this group was made up from all kinds of ethnics, all kind of origins. Some were talking to each other which made Drew guess that they had learned each other's language. None the less he got thrown some sympathetic looks which made Drew wonder what kind of life he was going to have here.

He had thought to himself nothing could be worse than the rat-filled dungeons, but he was slowly reconsidering.

Then the male with the red eyes came back and handed him some of the gaudy silk he was wearing too. Drew stared at him and the male shrugged apolitically; he probably couldn't get something different from this. Drew was glad he got to wear something different that the linen he had around his legs so far since his captivity.

The male pointed to himself once Drew was dressed, sort-like pants that were fluttering uncomfortably around his legs and a sleeveless jacket that wasn't supposed to close in the front but covered his back all the same. "Reod," he said and Drew supposed that could be as much of an introduction as he could expect and he pointed to himself.

"Drew."

Reod nodded contently and then pulled Drew with him to show the places he was supposed to go and where not with sign-language. After that he guided Drew back to the room that was supposedly for slaves like him to rest and then signed to Drew to sleep and that he would wake him in the morning. Or something like that.

Drew, content that he had at least something of a comrade brought himself to sleep quickly enough. He knew he would need his sleep and thoughts of home were banished from his head. For now.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Drew quickly realized there was some sort of a hierarchy within the male harm. New people like him started on the bottom and worked the nastier jobs, like washing cloths, preparing oils and even scrubbing floors. Then depending on how popular you were with the women, especially with the first mistress you rose up.

On top were those that delivered carnal pleasures to the women, and were usually favourites. Although as a favourite there was never a need for you to do any work at all, Drew had no intention of becoming one. Most of the males that were seemed to be stuck in a dormant drugged state or suppressed childlike behaviour.

Drew had seen this kind of cases before, but those people were commonly dragged off to the asylum, considered a danger to themselves.

Getting drugged as a favourite wasn't unheard of either; unlike the cases where the males did it to themselves. Drew had yet to find out why. He was very glad was stuck scrubbing floors and kept his head down. His hunch in having a comrade in Reod seemed to be right.

The black-haired make had looked out for him as much as he could and within a few months of intensive struggling outside of working hours, Reod had managed the basics of Drew's language. It seemed he had an affinity for learning languages as it seemed he spoke most of the ones going around.

He told Drew he had been there for a while and he wasn't becoming a favourite anytime soon, and that was fine with him. "Too much mouth," he explained.

Drew could see that too. He spoke with the females but mostly Reod organized the males in where they had to go and what they had to do. He did have a quick mouth. All with all, life was not exactly bad and it was quite amusing to see how certain males kept their distance from him. Their scared looks at his back told Drew they thought his scars were some kind of disease.

He ignored the bouts of home-sickness that plagued him at night.

In either case, his food had not been drugged, he had not been forced to entertain in any degree of which some no self-respecting man should lower themselves to and he had also not been made to any source of pleasure. Drew noticed that although he had a decent head on his neck, the language of his captor's land was anything from easy and he had decidedly more problems learning it than Reod had.

He could differentiate orders from each other and was basically familiar with what to do and where to go. He found himself one of the lucky ones. His build, hardened by the army made him suitable for the heavier jobs.

About once a month a new slave, sometimes two or three, came in and younger boys usually got singled out pretty quickly. He quickly found himself, together with Reod, who apparently found Drew as much of a comrade as Drew found him, comforting them.

He was familiar with rookie-soldiers having tough times with the regimes in the training-camps, but he was in no way prepared or even familiar to scramble up the bits of mentally broken boys. It fell hard on him when another lad perpetually curled in on himself at night.

The only thing that unnerved him really was the obvious interest of the head-mistress. Drew had learned that she was the one holding the ropes. The other women, although powerful in their own right, listened to the woman with the royal red robes.

As Reod explained, "Purple is king, red is second."

Drew knew of political marriages, but while that was true, man and wife were supposed to be a couple as well. Here there was no such thing. He noticed that once a month the head-mistress disappeared. "For strong boy," Reod had explained but at the same time he had Drew a mixture that told Drew the woman wasn't expecting anytime soon.

Drew knew he wasn't delusional when he felt her eyes follow him, while he was doing his work. She didn't even move or speak.

Reod had frowned momentarily when Drew told him about this. "She likes battle-men, you look," he said in his broken speech while pointing at Drew's back. "Her husband is paper-man for king. She does not like."

That Drew understood, her husband was, while important maybe, a bureaucrat. Reod warned him to be careful and said she was rather cruel in reaching what she wanted.

Drew enjoyed his talks with Reod though. When he asked the fair man, where he came from he answered: "From over the water," he waved west of the way Drew knew his own country was. "Always green, peaceful," he said wistfully.

"Why don't you go back, why did you leave it then?" Drew asked curiously, and then felt rather stupid. Like him Reod was only a slave.

"Land broken. Ship broke," Reod shrugged. Drew winced; a typical case of being at the wrong place at the wrong time.

All with all while dreaming of home, Drew found that his time here passed fairly ok. He didn't know winds were about to change for him.

I have basically caught up to my writing on paper so I am going to try my hardest to work on this all.

I am really happy, actually, because I have uploaded my 25th story yesterday, reaching a mark. As a celebration I uploaded my two running stories while being at it!

Leave me a review ok?

You guys were probably curious what Kamesh said to his people right? I made up the language. It doesn't have a real grammar or anything. But this is what he said:

[We are home! This man! This man is the general. And now, he is our prisoner! He, as one of the cowards, will work as a slave! And now! Rejoice!]