You guys are wonderful! Every single one of you! Forgive me for not naming! I'd be too busy with actual thanking and everything to write the chapter.

As my thanks, I put my shoulders under this chapter and it got on fairly well…it helped that most things were already in my mind.

So enjoy this new chapter. (I do not blame you guys if you feel slightly unwell….I did so too at the end. Just a warning. Leave off the candy until you're done, alright?) I ain't going easy on my characters; as always.

I don't own Pokémon, and I never will. But I do own my imagination and my never-ending curiosity for history.

Chapter 17: Wearing the Harness, Chained Man to Man

Drew missed May terribly. Home too, but he mostly missed May's willingness to bicker with him. Reod was a good man, but rather docile. At night, more often than not, he found May haunting his head. He thought it disconcerting that he felt like her face was slowly fading.

He also missed the gentle sway of trees in a breeze; grass between his toes, the gentle blue sparkle of lakes. He couldn't quite get used to the heavy smoky air in the thickly clouded rooms of the harem.

He scrubbed floors, silverware and sanitaria. He prepared oils and washed clothes. He for one would never again, as he guiltily confessed to himself; think that this was solely a woman's job or even light work. The oils were always difficult to make for example, as the liquid was thick and in large quantities, there was a definite strain on the arms.

Meanwhile the headmistress had started showing more interest in him, to his discontent. At times she had even beckoned him over but Drew had avoided actually going by pretending he didn't see her and having to get more supplied.

"You can not run always," Reod told him one evening.

Drew nodded solemnly, "I know that, but what do you suggest I do then?" he asked, quite desperately.

At this Reod sighed, "Let her do you," he said simply. He grimaced a bit, as if he didn't quite believe what he was saying. Then he focused his attention back to the cloth he was repairing for a younger boy, who was now desperately trying to sleep. Both the elder males had a hard time ignoring his sobs.

"What!?" Drew exclaimed. That wasn't quite was he was suspecting. An outrageously stunt perhaps, that would most likely end him in deeper shit, but not being passive. He felt betrayal churn; he only wasn't sure towards whom.

Reod rubbed his chin, "What are the words?" he wondered softly, questioning.

Drew growled lowly, "I know what the words mean, I know what you mean! I don't like them no matter how," he said aggravated.

Reod cocked an eyebrow. "You think people here must like?" he asked, rather offhandedly. "You let her do she want. Wish it over fast."

Drew wanted to shout in frustration, "I don't want that at all! I have a fiancée who is waiting for me!" he said hotly.

Reod looked confused and halted his needlework for a moment as he stared at Drew. "Fiancée?" he tasted the word. "What is that?"

Drew silently pondered on this. He never had to think about the meaning of the word: how to explain it. It had always been the implication that counted. "It means, she is the woman I am going to marry, the one I want to marry," he said quietly.

Reod nodded slowly, "So you are not a married man?" he said after a moment deliberation. When Drew shook his head, Reod smiled sadly, "You do not betray then."

Drew shook his furiously, "You don't understand! Maybe in your country, the promise of marriage means something else, but to me, for her to be my fiancée as much as I am hers means we have a promise to each other. I don't want anyone but her."

Reod smiled sadly, and then the line of his mouth turned grim. "Then you betray her in everything but heart"

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

Reod's words spooked Drew, but it was becoming frighteningly real for it seemed that the Mistress had no intention of giving up. He had found her more than once standing behind him and Drew was nowadays very careful with his food and drunks for he had caught one of her faithful boys putting something in his drink.

He didn't think he had ever met such a witch before and he was convinced of this when at one night four of her boys woke him up from his light sleep. From their movements Drew could deduct he was supposed to come with them and that they were prepared to force him if necessary.

Drew doubted they were able to pull that off against him. Even if he couldn't exactly train right now, he was in no way getting weak. One look around him changed his mind about struggling though. Many of these boys needed their sleep badly.

Life was not kind to them, even here, and it fell hard on some. And so Drew decided to come with them quietly.

At night, Drew knew that there were fames played more wildly and passionate than at daytime when the women were lethargic. And because Drew did odd jobs, he had not seen the Harem at night. He had seen the effects, and that was not something to be happy about.

As he passed one of the rooms he heard music and in a glimpse he saw three boys dancing almost trancelike. Three women around them were following their movements with hungry eyes.

Just when Drew thought that dancing, while humiliating enough like that, wouldn't be so bad, he saw one of the women reach out and pull a boy towards her. Drew averted his eyes but the hysterical laughter resounded in his head.

He was guided through the curtains and silks and heavy fumes to a room Drew knew the head-mistress resided in, and glumly he thought to himself that he hadn't imagined her attention after all. He had hoped he had been wrong.

The heavily silk-donned room had already people in it. 'Of course,' Drew thought, 'Why get only one man, when you have a whole harem at your disposal.' Some boys were just standing there. Others were making music, some were dancing in that lethargic way Drew had seen before, and others were pampering the person laying on a variety of cushions.

Of course it was the head-mistress. Like it would've been anyone else. Whereas she wore her red silks at day, mostly to show her importance he figured, at night she wore something that was soft pink and see-through. It flowed like water over her bronze skin. Drew actually wondered whom of them two was supposed to be the entertainment, as she did no effort to hide.

At night, limitations were gone. She had done her best to look captivating, her black hair adorned with glittering stones, neck, wrists and ankles covered with golden jewellery.

She would have been captivating, Drew supposed, if his head hadn't been full with May. He enjoyed May's light presence like a breeze more than this woman's heavy overbearance.

The males escorting him took their places on the sides, leaving Drew alone to face the woman.

She stood up in a cloud of silks and made her way over to him. Drew wasn't going to move until he was certain of her intentions, but he found it become more difficult after she had twirled twice around him and then wisped three fingers from his chest past his neck to his back.

She murmured appreciatively, but Drew wasn't enjoying these touches at all. He felt compromised in his masculinity but it was fact that he feared for his bodily safety more and more. She ran a hand over his pectorals and stayed particularly long at the scars on his back.

Drew feared Reod had been right about her fetish for warriors. Then she went back to her pillows and she stretched out a hand as an invite. "Kra," she spoke softly. Whereas the word was spoken by the old woman at the slave market had sounded like a bark this was more of a lisp. Come.

Anyone with a will a lot less strong than Drew's would probably have succumbed. What with these fumes that made you feel light-headed and the mistress wasn't ugly. But he wasn't about to join her or play her games and he shook his head.

She sat up on her pillows, having stretched out before like a professional seductress. "Moi?!" she asked incredulously. 'Moi probably meant no,' Drew thought and shook his head again not moving a foot.

She probably hasn't been refused before, ever, judging from the chaos that broke loose.

The Headmistress stood up, her face twisted in a scowl that did no just to her features. She started throwing things, her cushions and the bowl of grapes next to her. She shouted things Drew was probably better off not knowing the meaning off considering how some of the more alive lackeys turned rather pale.

When she started ripping off the fabrics from the walls one of the boys grabbed his arm and hurried him back to the room Drew slept in, mostly avoiding the mess the other women made upon hearing their leader shout. He heard something shatter and he guessed that now one of the more breakable ornaments hadn't survived the night.

He hurriedly was pushed inside the room and when the door fell behind him, he was met with fresh air and silence; quite different from the apocalypse on the other side. Most of the boys were asleep and blissful unaware. Those that were awake were the ones that probably were too far gone to even care.

Except for one. A dark shadow hurried towards him and only up close Drew noticed it was Reod. He seemed to look him over, expecting the worse as it seemed, and then upon realizing he did not come back in the expected state he pressed his lips in a thin line.

"What happen?" he asked silently.

Drew shook his head, "I refused," he said.

Reod bit his lip, refusing to meet Drew's eyes. "It is more easy to do, she wants," he murmured with a side-glance. "The…punishment is hard."

Drew nodded, slowly. Whatever his punishment was going to be, he would bear it. He wasn't going to betray May, even if he had to feel the tails of the whip on his back again.

"I go with you with new sun," Reod said, almost decisively. Drew frowned, if he had to bear the punishment on his own it was ok, but to be responsible of someone else's misery was not something he was looking forward to.

"I can't tell what's going to happen," he said.

Reod shrugged, "You care, I care. And," he pulled his mouth up in half a grimace, half a grin, "Too many time here."

Drew didn't get the idea that he was going to change his resolve anytime soon, so he nodded reluctantly.

-DDDDDD-

Drew didn't know if he slept that night. He had the feeling he had stared at the ceiling all night long but the morning came sooner than he had liked. He thought it was morning at least for this room did not have windows, when he was basically pulled off his bed, cot, by the old woman from before.

"Tel! Tel!" she snarled as she pulled him with more strength than he would've expected. From the corner of his eyes, Drew saw people awake from the shrieking voice and Reod quickly hurried after them and the woman pulled him past the curtains and tulles.

For a slight moment, Drew felt guilty for leaving all those boys without someone to look out for them. He and Reod had been the ones to catch them when they fell. They'd now have to take care of themselves probably. He was almost sure they had to.

The old hag pulled him up a staircase he hadn't seen before. Perhaps they hadn't let him see on purpose, for the hallway was decidedly less…ornamental. Then he was pushed in a room and a swift kick to the back of his legs made him fall down.

Drew wondered momentarily what they all had against his legs.

He faintly heard Reod kneel down next to him. The headmistress was seated before them, not on pillows deep, but high on a throne of white marble, dressed in heavy cloaks of purple and red. Based on colours Drew thought she found herself probably just as important as royalty. More so than seductive she wanted to be regal and Drew had to admit she pulled it off.

They stared at each other for a silent moment. Then she opened her mouth slowly, "You…refused me," she spoke slowly. Her voice had a distinct accent and her voice rolled over the words.

Drew narrowed his eyes, "You speak my language!" he said more to himself than anyone else, but the Mistress narrowed her eyes.

"Of course I do, you insolent slave!" she burst, a raw note to her voice. "That's all my useless husband is good for!" she spat. Drew stayed silent and the Mistress looked like she wanted to hit him, but then calmed down, "There is an upside to that studious nature of his, and that is that he lets me do whatever I want really."

For a moment, Drew was hit with the realization that this woman was actually just really lonely. It didn't justify her behaviour by any means, but he supposed that if she couldn't have real affection, she would take fake ones, and her Harem was suitable enough. It made him almost pity her, almost.

"And you refused me," she said almost completive, "Nobody does so much effort to refuse me. Why?" she murmured, now curious.

Drew cast his eyes downwards, not at all willing to see her reaction to his response, "I am to be someone else's," he said quietly.

To his surprise she started laughing. "So what!? That's the reason to refuse me? You're not going back," she cackled. Drew didn't find it as funny as she did and stared back at her hard. Eventually her laughter died down. "You're male, why should you save yourself for someone that you're not going back to anyway?"

Drew eyed her solemnly, "She is to be mine as much as I am to be hers. It wouldn't mean a thing if I didn't give her that same honour."

This apparently, did the woman not understand. Drew somehow didn't expect her too. From what he learned, marriages were rather cold here, and as bitterly as this woman reacted at her husband it might have been that she once had warm feelings for him. It was sad, really. Her face turned a nasty shade of white and her fists clenched and unclenched rapidly. "So you are saying that I am less beautiful, less desirable than some hag in a far country?" she raged,

Drew tried to placate her a bit, even if inside he was raging himself; May was not a hag in any form or way. "I was not saying that, ma'am. I simply do not feel for you like I feel for her." But this was the wrong thing to say.

The headmistress seemed to explode. "Then you can DROWN in those miserable feelings of yours!" she snarled venomously. "You think you can do whatever you want? You useless slave? You can spend the rest of your miserable life on the galleys then, alone with those precious feelings of yours!" she spat. She smirked but it was not happy in any sort of way; this was more like a woman scorned, and Drew wondered what he had done to deserve the anger towards her husband.

He was a slave, not her partner.

"See how long the water and the whip will take to make you wish you had given me what I wanted from you!" She turned to Reod, "And I didn't call for you," she said heatedly, not even taken into account that she could have addressed him in her own language.

Reod remained unfazed, "Place Drew is, I go," he simply said.

The headmistress almost choked on it. "Such undeserved loyalty!" she mocked. "Fine then, I'm not interested in you anyway, so you can join him. Have fun on the galleys!" and with a wave of her hand both he and Reod were dragged outside by the old woman.

Drew faintly had the idea the mistress had been planning this even before their little talk because the old woman dragged them to something of a fore portal, and then grabbed a rope. Reod winced, he had been there longer far more than the year Drew had been so being tied up must appear strange to him. "Surg skill?" Reod asked reluctantly but the woman snapped back at him that he should shut up as far as Drew understood.

Reod sighed disappointedly as their hands were bound tightly, a piece of rope between them so that running was not possible. "Worth to try," he muttered. He looked distastefully at the ropes. "I do not like rope," he said.

Drew didn't ask after it. He probably had no business knowing. The old hag pulled them behind her from the house and Drew was suddenly reminded of how dusty the land was. "Reod," he asked. "What work do slaves do at galleys?" He spoke softly not to be overheard by their warden.

Reod clucked his tongue, "Galleys are boats. Big boats, no sail. Quick because slaves work the…" he made a rowing motion.

"Oars?" Drew supplied and Reod nodded.

"Hard work in little space. But I like galleys more than mills," he said. Drew thought back at when he arrived and the rattling noise he had heard than. No matter where they were going, that place didn't sound like a whole of fun. Not that he was going there.

Truth to be told, the concept of a galley-ship was unfamiliar to him. Back in his land ships either sailed on wind or not at all. I put people to work to make a ship sail, especially a big ship was a strange idea.

Drew hadn't thought this city would have a port, as hidden as it was in the sand, but sure enough, after a walk that the silk slippers he had been forced to wear did nothing to soften, Drew smelled the salty breeze one could only affiliate with the sea. The people slowly changed from city-folk to people that live with the sea like dockworkers sailors and other male and females known with the sea bustled around.

Drew soon found out what the galleys were exactly when he and Reod were guided to an enormous fleet of ships, all rather low-decked and huge oars came from the side. Drew was shocked but not surprised when he saw a rather large line with chained men being guided to them.

Their heads were downcast; something Drew quickly had come familiar with as typical behaviour for slaves. They all wore something that resembled rough pants but their torsos were naked.

Suddenly, something happened so quickly that Drew almost thought he had missed it. One of the men, although young, looked up horrified at the ship he was forced to enter and let out a blood-curling scream. He then proceeded to throw himself off the docks, with complete disregard to the men before and behind him. His weight dragged them easily to the ocean floor. It was clear he couldn't swim and his two comrades didn't stand a chance with the body dragging them down as bound as they were.

Their guards didn't do anything to help them. They stared a bit regretful at the last bubbles that indicated the last man wasn't breathing down there, and shrugged. Just an investment lost.

Reod made a swallowing sound. Clearly having seen what happened too. "I hear about that," he whispered rather choked up. "Men fear bound in small space more than death. They choose death." Drew felt rather numbly upon hearing that. The galleys truly must be terrifying to them if they choose to drown instead.

It was by all means not a pretty death; not peaceful at all, because you can't breathe. It's a slow dead for sure.

The old hag guided them to a burly man with a clipboard. "Duz corda an mischt," she rasped.

The burly man looked them over and then sniggered, "An mischt?" he asked the old woman who seemed to get more upset by the minute.

"An mischt!" she said decidedly.

The man now laughed full out, "Eg duz corda," he mocked, "milt neg zur mischt. Vir dagnaschen."

Reod looked affronted. "What?" Drew asked who couldn't understand what the man said.

His friend hissed through his teeth; "He says we not good for war-galley. He calls us weak-looking," he made a small gesture with his bound hand. "More rude," he added. Drew too felt a bit affronted by that. He was a general and now was decided he wasn't suited for a war-galley. That was rather insulting. He didn't know what Reod's profession had been but his friend seemed as dismayed as he was.

"Sol dak," the man said eventually, "Erg mor an furt mischt," and then he signed for a guard to take them off the woman's hands and a few coins were dropped in it. Then she scurried away and Drew and Reod were pulled on one of the docks.

"Where are they taking us?" Drew asked quietly.

Reod looked carefully at their guard, a rather stupid-looking man. "To a trade-galley. Situation is more bad for slave than war-galley. Work is less hard. Trade is from someone, war need speed," he explained quickly. Drew understood the difference. Because war-galleys were from the state they could afford to treat slaves a bit better, even if they needed to work harder.

Because trade-galleys were private property, it was only logical that only the bare-necessities were taken for the slaves. There wasn't as much need for speed so the less built slaves were put to work on these ships.

They halted at a ship. A small line of slaves like him and Reod were already loaded into the ship. The ship didn't look all too stable. It was old and it moaned with movement. Before he and Reod could enter they were taken to the side. "Those clothes are not useful on this ship," a warden said with a heavy accent.

He pointed at a little cart. "Change," he just said. Reod and Drew looked at each other uncomfortably. They were used to changing in each other's presence and of other males but they never had to do so in public, with barely more than a cart as cover. "You won't like it so much if I have to say it again," the guard threatened.

Both of the young men swallowed whatever was left of their sense of privacy and dignity and went to the cart. They didn't know what the man could do, but it was perhaps better not to find out.

Once dressed in what felt to Drew eerily the same cloths as he wore coming to the city, their guard sniggered. "Suits you well, fellows." His hand shot out and grabbed Drew at the shoulder checking his back. "Better listen well if you don't want more of these," he said and the way he said it made Drew suspect that the man wouldn't mind handing out more of those with his whip.

"Enjoy your last view of land, scum. You won't see it again," he said and then he pushed Drew and Reod inside.

The first thing Drew noticed was the smell, even before his eyes could get used to the penetrating darkness. It was a stench only a combination of human faeces, sweat and a place without fresh air could smell like. He and Reod were not separated, thank the gods for small favours, but were guided to their spot.

'Their spot' was actually nothing more than a place on a wooden bar behind an oar. On the left of them two mates were sitting, on the other side as well. Drew could barely keep himself from fainting, but these guys were apparently already used to the stench. They were sitting like they were grateful for the moment rest they got.

He and Reod were chained once they sat down, to each other with their legs and to their neighbours. Their hands were kept free, but there was a man looming before them who definitely made you consider twice placing them where they didn't belong. It was in no way comfortable and the brown spots on the oars did nothing to ease his mind. The space was small and clammy and he almost could feel the breath, rather panicked Drew noted, of the man behind him.

The last men were shackled up and when the loud thump of a drum began the men next to him grabbed the oars in a practiced movement.

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

Life on the galley was hard. When going in and out of harbour every man was at the oars but otherwise they worked in shifts of 4 on each oar, changing two men at the time.

Drew had asked Reod before long what the guard meant with seeing land for the last time and Reod's explanation of "Slaves do not leave the galley. They do dead or boat broken," was getting clearer and clearer. At every port they halted there were men carried out. Probably dead. Drew didn't know what happened to them.

The spots on the oar were also explained. At some certain point when Drew's muscles were screaming for relief, which did not come anyway, his hands broke. The skin had rubbed and burned until it was gone. His hands were a bloody and slippery mess, like Reod's but he couldn't stop rowing as the whip crackled dangerously.

The ones that were hit moaned days later still. These people crackled their whips as a profession; Gar could only touch that viciousness. So he rowed, his hands cramped so that he wouldn't let go. The man next to him, when they had a break together, as that changed each time, showed Drew to rip off the bottom part of the linen cloth and wrap it around his hands.

It stung but at least his hands didn't slip.

What horrified him the most was how they were supposed to do their sanitaria. The putrid smell from when he entered was because the slaves weren't supposed to move at all. This means that everything better left unsaid fell underneath them and slid all the way to the middle. A small boy, Drew was horrified to find out how tortured that kid actually was even if he was in no position to change it, had as task to remove the human waste with a bucket.

It was perhaps good that the kid was mentally gone, for it was the most rancid job of all.

Drew had never felt so unclean and robbed of his dignity in his life. This was probably why slaves' heads were always downcast,

In this floating tube of hell lived creatures that had long stopped feeling like humans after all.

Too graphic? Maybe too much….oh well. Now he's gone from bad to worse, don't ya think? At full sea, shackled up. Oh dear.

Guys, I'm so happy with all the nice messages; even those I couldn't reply because they were guests….thank you so much!