A/N: ALRIGHTY, here's chapter 3! I'm sorry it's been so long. I've been going through a lot right now and my life has just started calming down. So I'm trying to get into a cycle of some kind between my different fanfictions, where I post one and then the other and so on. My hope is a new chapter will be posted every two to three weeks. So, stayed tuned.
Thanks to those of you who reviewed! I enjoy hearing your thoughts about the chapter and the possible direction of the story. I figure I should address this since one reviewer did. The canon according to Tales is that Kratos is a royal from Tethe'alla, a general in the army. Don't worry, my friends, I haven't forgotten/didn't know this. All in good time. Anyway, I'll stop my rambling and let you all get on with reading! Enjoy!
Chapter Three: The Manor
Crimson waves washed upon his feet, the golden rays that reached passed the horizon reminding him that morning was coming. Looking behind to see the Grand General standing there, eyes still fixed upon the open sea, Kratos dared to speak, "th…thank you, sir."
The General turned his beady eyes towards the teenage who regarded him, half raising an eyebrow, "it's what you asked for, wasn't it?"
"Huh?" another wave crossed his ankles, bringing the icy ocean back to the forefront of his mind. He'd been standing in it most of the night, the waves driving themselves farther from the beach as the moon went lower into the sky. Finally, it'd come to meet him again and he realized how utterly cold he'd become.
Standing a little taller, though he didn't need too, the General looked towards the breaking dawn, "you may be a slave but that doesn't mean you aren't human."
"Then why buy slaves at all?" Kratos turned to his owner, "why purchase them and force them to work for you?"
"It's to save them. If I don't purchase them, someone less forgiving than I will."
Biting his cheek, he turned his head away. He didn't want to be hit so he decided to keep his mouth shut. The best thing he could do for himself was be grateful someone kind had purchased him, not like the crooked toothed man who'd bought the woman with the terrified blue eyes. Why had he expected anyone with a royal background to understand what the Arasesr actually stood for?
"We should be moving," stepping away from the beach, the tall man inched towards the cobblestone walkway, leaving Kratos alone in the water. He threw a glance back to see if he was planning on following, but the teen didn't move. "Are you coming of your own will?"
Taking a deep breath, the salty ocean scent burning into his nose, he looked up at the man but quickly looked past him, "I'll come." Stepping out of the water, the sand now starting to stick to the soles of his feet, he followed the General up the stone path, leaving the beach behind.
When they reached the noble quarter, he couldn't believe his eyes. Everything was extravagant. Each mansion had carvings upon the marble that danced like a summer's breeze. Gardens of lush colors and greens twisted their way around the walkways of the rich and powerful. Golden rooftops, which Meltokio's rich were famous for, glimmered in the appearing sunlight. Though the streets were mostly empty, he could feel the very presence of the energy the streets held.
How he wished he could see them come to life.
Meltokio, the largest city in the world, had the perfect view. Sitting atop a massive hill, the entire city headed upwards from the crashing waves until the streets reached the castle gates, its silver walls glowing radiant in the light, no matter how little. Kratos, at just the right angle, could see the ocean between houses and the tall walls that surrounded the city. As they reached the castle, they took an immediate right, stopping in front of a gated gathering of buildings.
A guard, garbed in rich purples and steels, nodded to the General, "Morning sir, I see the Harvest went well."
"Better than I'd planned," nodding back, the two were allowed inside. Stopping once they reached the center of the buildings, a giant fountain greeting them in the middle of an open courtyard. The tall man gestured around himself, "this is my manor, where you'll be working."
As they continued walking, Kratos stepped quickly, struggling to keep up. They made it to a tall building whose back wall faced the edge of the cliff, a grand view of the ocean sitting behind it and the black railed fence. Gasping at the view, Kratos couldn't hold in his surprise, which the Grand General had taken note of.
Upon entering the building, the fresh air was cut off and a cooling breeze washed over him. Thinking back to his days in class, he remembered reading about the wealthy, some of them having purchased exceedingly expensive air compressors, known as Central Air Units. Something about Mana flow and a reaction that occurs between lightning and wind Mana, though he couldn't remember the entirety of it.
"This is the residential building of my manor. I, my wife and my children all reside here." Several maids rushed past them as they walked up a grand staircase which sat parallel to the doors across the foyer. Kratos watched them disappear before he began to question the reasons he was being shown where the Grand General and his family lived. Was he showing off?
Walking to the top of the stairs, they were greeted with panoramic windows, showing the brilliance of the ocean as the sun began to crest over the waves, staining them bright yellow. Turning, they went down a hallway, entering a large office where a massive wooden desk stood in the middle of the room. All around, books of many different shapes and sizes lined the shelves that sat next to the wall. Yet another window, though it wasn't facing the ocean and instead the court yard of the manor, sat comfortably behind the desk, Kratos' eyes travelling to it. Several gardeners were getting to work tending to the flowers that sat potted around the fountain and the benches.
"You like the ocean, hm?"
Throwing himself into attention, Kratos nodded, "uh, yes sir. I do."
"Why's that?" He was pulling a huge cigar out of one of the drawers of his desk, pulling out a small device. Flicking it open and running his finger along a grooved wheel, a small seal appeared before a fire bloomed into existence, lighting the cigar.
Already, the heavy scent of cigar smoke attacked Kratos' nose, making him gag internally, "My father, uh sir, he was a sailor." Standing straight but letting his eyes linger, Kratos quickly forgot the smell when he spotted several dozen bottles sitting atop the shelves.
"A sailor? For the navy?"
Shaking his head, Kratos looked swiftly towards the man before dropping his gaze to the floor, "he transported and sold goods."
The Grand General put away his lighter, holding the cigar between his fingers as a puff of smoke exited his lungs. The teen watched it drift upwards, disappearing into the ceiling. Leaning back, the General regarded his newly acquired slave, "where are you from?"
"Born in Iselia, sir."
"That's a big city; I've visited it a few times." He got up, strolling towards the window, beady eyes beginning to examine nothing in particular, "so, you're a long way from home, hm?" Another puff of smoke rose towards the world above. Kratos turned his head away, looking at the bottles that lay sideways on the top of the shelving.
"I have been for a very long time now." Nearly three years and the very thought made him shutter. Why were they talking about this? Clearing his throat, Kratos asked, "What's this about?"
Ignoring the teen, he pushed on with the previous conversation, "you're accent gives it away, actually." With a wave of his great hand, he signaled Kratos to come over to the window, the teen obeying though he kept a well-trained distance from the man. The Grand General turned to look at him, examining every inch of Kratos' features. "You say you were born in Iselia, so Sylvarant?"
"Yes…" Was there a reason this was such a pressing issue? The last time Kratos checked, the origins of slaves wasn't on the top of most peoples to-know list. In fact, it was said that the less you knew about a slave, the better. Knowing too much gets you emotionally attached, and if that happens, it's hard to keep them enslaved.
"You're parents wouldn't have happened to be from Tethe'alla by any chance, would they?"
Shaking his head, Kratos replied, eyes fixed out the window, "not that I know of. My mother was born from Palmacosta and my father has always said he was born in Iselia."
The older gave a thoughtful noise before turning and going back to his desk. Upon seating himself, he shuffled through a rather tall stack of papers before finding what he was looking for. "This is a copy of the law," the papers were shoved to the front of the desk, Kratos walking over to retrieve it. "It explains the federal laws of Tethe'alla as well as the city laws of Meltokio. I suggest you read them carefully. They explain the rights of the people you'll be working under and with, as well as the rights someone of your status has."
He had rights? Well, that was something new. Taking the crisp copy in his hand, he flipped through it as the General continued to speak to him, "I provide every one of my slaves with a copy of their rights. It's only fair." He leaned back, turning his chair to face the window. Although he wasn't looking at anything in particular, the teen could tell he was giving something considerable thought.
"Thank you, sir." He held it loosely in his arms. He wasn't exactly sure how it was fair given Kratos couldn't read Tethe'allan, but he supposed he could ask someone about the content later. He also wasn't sure why the Grand General was so deep in thought over their conversation.
A lazy gaze came to look at Kratos, who was clutching the papers to his chest. "You're welcome." Taking another long swig of his cigar, the Grand General turned his chair slightly to face Kratos once more, "I guess it's only fair to tell you what you'll be doing for me." Giving a slight smile to the teen, he reached forward to lean his elbows on his desk, now fully engaged in the conversation.
It was involuntary; Kratos' feet moved him back a little. Direct eye contact, it was something the Grand General was very good at doing, apparently. He supposed he'd have to find a way to get over it.
"First, I'm Grand General Roy Steele, official protector of the King and head of the entire military." So that was where Kratos had heard the name from. It'd been bugging him slightly ever since the commander of the Asasesr had said it. His father use to talk about the royal guard all the time, said they were the only reason the King of Tethe'alla was still alive. Now, he was standing face to face with said protector. That only made him shy away more.
Leaning a little closer, Roy let out a sigh, "my third eldest son, well, he's a bit of a handful. He's about ready to graduate the Elite Military Academy but he's one strike away from being kicked out." Kratos raised an eyebrow, waiting for the man to continue. "His previous slave ran into some…problems and he demands he has a new slave to take her place."
Kratos could tell where this was going and it wasn't making him feel very good. Butterflies were gnawing away at his stomach as Roy continued to talk, "Getting him another female was out of the question since his mishaps could cause him his graduation. So, I decided I'd get him someone a little more like him."
Silence echoed through the room, making the teen's ears ring. He was going to be the slave of some pompous General's son? He'd have to listen and do everything this kid wanted him, too?
"Anyway, you'll be meeting up with him today. You see, he's on holiday and I promised I'd bring him back a slave from the Harvest." He breathed in another puff of air from his cigar. "I'll send for Bretta, she'll help you get cleaned up."
Looking down, he noticed how disgusting he actually looked. Dirty clothes, his arms caked in dirt and saw dust. Kratos could only imagine what he smelled like. His attention was taken from him when he watched the Grand General click a button on his desk, a voice coming from somewhere inside.
"Can I help you, sir?"
"Send Bretta this way."
"Yes, sir."
Another click and the General was looking at Kratos. It was only a second of staring before Kratos looked towards the bottles again, "you collect bottled ships." Roy's eyes travelled to the top of the shelves where many bottles, each with a small ship on the inside, sat. There were different vessels in each, and every single one was a different color.
"Yes, I do." Kratos continued to look at them, eyes transfixed on the smallest details each had. General Roy gave a cough before speaking, "is that your natural hair color?"
"What?" Looking at the older man, he furrowed his eyebrows, "is red my natural hair color?" Kratos could see the awkwardness covering the General's face. He was hiding it well, but he couldn't mask the discomfort he felt from asking the strange question.
"Yes, it's an unusual color for someone from Sylvarant."
He supposed it was. There weren't very many redheads in Iselia, though that was because red wasn't a common color to begin with. Shrugging, Kratos stated, "well, sir, it's natural." Just then, a knock came at the doorway and a woman walked in. She was nearly as big as the doorway, thick arms crossing across her wide chest.
Raising a blonde eyebrow, she inquired, "what is it I can help you with, sir?" She was leaning on one hip, her head tilted to the side. Kratos was almost positive he'd never seen anyone so big in his life and she actually scared him more than the General did.
"Bretta, thank you for rushing. He's a new slave who will be meeting with his future master, Everence, in a couple of hours. If you could work your magic?"
Letting out a long sigh, she placed her large hands on her hips, "I suppose so, if you need me too."
"Great," Roy motioned for the teen to head towards the plump woman at the entry way with a wave of his hand.
Doing as he was ordered, he walked over to her, the lady stepping back through the door and out into the hall. Before Kratos could disappear behind the door, the Grand General's voice came to his ear, "I never got your name."
Looking back, he responded with a bow, "Aurion, sir. Kratos Aurion."