Tales of the First Era: Alessia

by Blackvvater

In the earliest days of recorded history, a half-elven Breton finds himself swept up in a war between the oppressive Ayleid Empire and their human slaves - a war that will determine the fate of Cyrod and the course of history for Tamriel.

4. Chapter 4: Liberation

Chapter 4

Liberation

The damp, early morning air crept its way into Atkynd's fitful rest, prying him reluctantly into consciousness, until he finally opened his eyes, shivering. He was wrapped in his cloak and sitting upright against the wall of Fanacasecul, where he had fallen asleep the night before. The Ayleids had reveled for the rest of the evening, indulging in every hedonism imaginable, but Atkynd had decided to retire long before midnight. He had tried to find a bed, but all the houses had been commandeered by the Ayleids, and no one was going to allow a half-blood foreigner to steal a warm bed from them. There wasn't even spare room on the floors of the three taverns in the city. He had settled for a secluded spot along Fanacasecul's southern wall, where he had a good view of the harbor… and where he as far away from the jungle as possible. After asking for a glass of wine from one of the slaves, he had spent the rest of the night slowly sipping the drink while watching the lazy bobbing of the galleys in the torchlight. Eventually, his eyes had gotten heavy, and he had managed to drift off.

Unfortunately – but expectedly – he'd had a restless night of sleep. While he'd managed to doze off from time to time, the sounds of the party inevitably woke him up again. Twice, he'd had to ward off drunken Ayleids stumbling over to his section of the wall, and once he'd almost been mistaken for a Nedic slave. Thankfully, once the inebriated Ayleid male that had been pawing at him had seen his pointed ears, he'd recoiled in disgust and staggered off, but Atkynd had decided to sleep with one eye open for the rest of the night.

Naturally, sleeping upright against a cold marble wall ensured that his entire body was now horrendously stiff. His neck ached horribly every time he tried to move it, and his back was especially sore from being pressed against the hard stone all night. Atkynd grunted as he slowly pushed himself to his feet and stretched, wincing and gritting his teeth as his muscles screamed in protest. Gradually they loosened enough for him to stand up straight, whereupon he yawned and glanced around to take stock of his surroundings.

A heavy grey fog was rolling off the lake, and though the sun was starting to rise, its pale rays barely pierced the thick, gloomy veil. Anything that was more than about twenty feet away was shrouded in the mist and reduced to an indistinct, ghostly shape; even the galleys creaking against the docks were little more than massive grey shadows. Of course, it wasn't as though there was much to see this early in the morning anyways.

The festival had apparently petered out sometime around the predawn hours, though he could still hear the distant voices of a couple of Ayleids slurring bawdy songs, and a few slaves were shuffling around the streets. Some of the elves were asleep along the sides of the road, under trees or on the grass, a few in various states of undress. The rest, Atkynd suspected, were probably indoors, sleeping off the heavy meals and copious amounts of wine they'd all imbibed. As such, it was a very quiet morning, and it was difficult for Atkynd to reconcile the slumbering grey city with the raucous, feverish celebration that had engulfed it the night before.

Atkynd glanced around and noticed a narrow, empty alley to his right. He ducked into it and quickly changed out of his formal clothing and back into his more comfortable travel clothes. Upon exiting the alleyway again, he pulled his cloak a little tighter around his shoulders as he began walking through the streets, his soft leather boots echoing faintly off the cobblestones. Walking helped to dispel his lingering sleepiness, and though he yawned occasionally, his senses gradually grew sharper. He headed away from the docks, making his way towards the stables outside the city, where Emero was being kept.

He intended to return to Malabal as soon as possible – after all, his king had only instructed him to make contact with the White-Gold City, and he had. He'd even managed to secure a few contracts. While his king had given him permission to stay longer, if necessary, he had no reason to remain. Nor any desire, he bitterly added, shuddering as the screams of the previous night echoed in his mind. He ruthlessly suppressed that memory and quickened his pace.

A few minutes later, he reached the front gates of Fanacasecul, whereupon he spotted a slave brushing down the horses. As he approached, she turned to face him and bowed, staring at the cobblestones, and not meeting his eyes.

"Thank you for taking care of these animals," Atkynd said gently. "I'd like the dark gold one bridled, if you could?"

The girl nodded and hurried off, leaving Atkynd standing alone just outside the city gates with the fog swirling around him. After waiting for several moments, he saw a figure moving in the mist. At first, he thought it was the girl returning, but then he realized that it was an unfamiliar male slave, approaching him at a brisk walk. He was carrying a silver platter laden with goblets of wine and round loaves of bread that, from the smell of them, were still warm and fresh.

"Good morning, my lord," the slave said in a low voice, averting his eyes. "Are you about to leave?"

"Shortly, I hope," Atkynd said. "As soon as I get my horse ready, I intend to speak with a captain about sailing down the Niben."

"I see. If that's the case, would you care for something to eat before you go?" the slave asked, motioning towards the platter.

Atkynd smiled faintly, holding up a hand. "I usually don't eat in the mornings," he said.

"Are you certain, my lord?" the slave pressed. "When our masters awaken, we must serve them before you. This may be your only chance to eat."

Atkynd hesitated, chewing the inside of his cheek. "I… suppose I should while I have the chance," he finally said after a long pause. The slave inclined his head and handed Atkynd one of the goblets, and then offered him one of the loaves of bread. Atkynd plucked one of the loaves from the platter, at which point the slave spun on his heel and began hurrying away.

"Thank you," Atkynd called after him. The young man almost seemed to flinch at the unexpected praise, and when he turned back to look at Atkynd, there was a pained look on his face.

"There's… no need to thank me, my lord. I assure you," the slave muttered. He inclined his head, and then disappeared back into the mist.

Atkynd stared after him in confusion, then looked down at the bread in his hand. "Strange," he muttered to himself, a feeling of anxiety starting to settle over him. Before he could do anything else, however, the sound of rattling chains and bare feet slapping against the cool stones caught his attention.

Another figure emerged from the mist, though this one was familiar to Atkynd. The small young woman with reddish-brown hair that he had met in the jungle rushed towards him as quickly as her bound ankles would allow. She stopped short when she saw his hands laden with food and gasped out, "Did you…drink… the wine?"

Atkynd's eyes widened, and he stared down at the goblet suspiciously. "Not yet," he murmured in a low voice.

"Good. Don't. And don't throw it away," the girl added. "Walk with me for a bit." She took his arm, pulling him away from the stables before he could protest. As she did, Atkynd stared at the goblet suspiciously, and then he lowered his voice.

"Did someone… poison this?" he asked quietly.

She blinked at him, seeming surprised that he had come to that conclusion. Then she answered bluntly, "Yes." Atkynd felt an icy shiver run down his body. "When I was working in the kitchens, I saw that slave add something to that drink. When I inspected his table, I saw that he had been cutting this." She held up a brown root-like plant, which seemed to be twitching slightly in her hand. "This is harrada root, a rare plant harvested from Oblivion. If you were to drink that wine, you'd suffer a slow, painful death. It would cause a stomachache that would worsen as the hours went by. By midday, you'd be vomiting blood, and by nightfall you'd be dead."

Atkynd stared at her, not bothering to hide the discomfort on his face. "You said harrada was rare, yet seem to know a lot about it," he remarked.

"I prepare alchemical ingredients for my mistress," the girl explained, lowering her eyes. "It's my duty to understand the properties of various plants, even the rare ones. Harrada is almost always used as a poison, especially when the poisoner wants their victim to suffer a slow death."

"I see. Then why shouldn't I just throw the wine away?" Atkynd asked softly.

"Because the slave will return for the goblet," the girl explained. "And he will want to see that you drank all of it. He'll be looking for wine stains on your lips, and then he'll look to see if you threw it away. If his master intends to assassinate you, it's better to let him think that the cleanest method worked, or else he might come after you more… directly. Fortunately for you, I have something that can counter the poison. Give me your drink for a second."

"Wait… if he wants to make sure I drank all of it, won't he be watching me right now?" Atkynd pointed out.

"That's why I wanted you to walk with me," she explained. "It's fortunate the fog is thick this morning, or else I wouldn't have been able to approach you like this. He knows he couldn't linger within sight of you, or you'd get suspicious as to why he was waiting for you to drink. That's why he left, and why he needs to return to make sure you drank the wine. Now please, may I see the goblet?"

Atkynd hesitated, but handed her the cup, and the girl opened her left hand to reveal that she was holding a fistful of bright red powder. She slipped it into his drink and swirled it around until it dissolved, before handing it back to him.

"Crushed redwort flower," she explained when she saw his curious look. "Prepared properly, it can counteract many poisons. There. The wine should be safe to drink now."

Atkynd slowly swirled the wine around apprehensively, clearly hesitant to drink it. He looked past the rim of the glass at the girl and asked, "If you say that someone is trying to poison me… do you know who?"

"Personally? No. However, I overheard the slave mention named Corilel," the girl replied. "Does that name mean anything to you?"

"It does," Atkynd sighed, lowering the goblet. "He was in the Council of the Elders meeting, and he wasn't pleased that I was able to secure an audience even though I'm half human. What's more, another one of the council members humiliated him, so I'm willing to bet that since he can't seek retribution on them, he decided to do so on me. That, or he's simply happy to see another human killed," he added with a bitter laugh.

"It's likely both," the girl remarked. "Many Ayleids consider humans to have about the same status as livestock. Lower, perhaps. At least sheep and goats at least are rarely killed without reason."

Atkynd shuddered as the memory of the children running into the forest the night before resurfaced. He shook his head, and then he asked, "Surely not all the Ayleids are so cruel?"

"Some, yes. But not many," the girl explained. "And it's not as though escaping to seek them out means we'll be safe. Even in the least brutal cities, we're still slaves, and expected to do the most difficult and dangerous jobs until we die. Of course, that's assuming that we don't die in the jungle before we reach the new city. You also saw that there are slavecatchers searching the forests for anyone that escaped. Worst of all, many cities will simply return escaped slaves to their previous owners, where they can expect to be tortured or killed for their attempt." She looked down at the cobblestones, folding her hands in front of her.

"What about escaping to other lands?" Atkynd asked.

"Well… they do say that if a slave can escape to Skyrim, they'll be able to live a free life," the girl admitted. "But again, that's assuming we can make it to Skyrim. I suppose that the same holds true for other lands," she added as an afterthought. She then turned her attention back to Atkynd. "You… said that Nedes in Malabal aren't slaves?"

"Not… technically, no," Atkynd said slowly, looking away. "At least in my kingdom, there are no slaves. But Nedes are still the lowest class of citizens in our kingdom, often assigned the most mundane tasks, with few chances to rise above one's station. It's… honestly not much different than slavery in many ways, though it's at least far less brutal than what I've seen in Cyrod."

"…I'd still very much like to see your homeland some day," the girl said in a quiet voice. "If I was ever given the chance to le-" She paused before she finished that thought, then slowly shook her head. "Nevermind." She was silent for a moment longer, then once again motioned to the goblet in his hands. . She then motioned to the goblet in his hand. "You really should drink that. It'll look suspicious if you don't."

Atkynd turned his gaze down to the wine lazily circling in the glass. "You're sure that this is safe?" he asked warily.

"Do you trust me?" the girl replied quietly.

Atkynd hesitated, staring at the glass intently. He had no proof that the wine had been poisoned by the other slave, while he had clearly seen her put something in the drink – she was even pressing him to swallow it instead of throwing it away. He also knew that she was a slave in the service of Hadhuul who was clearly psychotically sadistic, and who had already threatened Atkynd's life. Thus, it did come down to the question the slave had posed to him – did he trust her?

Atkynd bit the inside of his cheek thoughtfully, then slowly raised the goblet to his lips. Closing his eyes, he quickly swallowed the wine. There was a slight tingling sensation, and he noticed a bitter undertone in the wine. A sinking feeling bubbled in his stomach, but he convinced himself that it was just nerves. When he finished, he slowly lowered the goblet and opened his eyes, his heart hammering.

The girl tilted her head at him, staring at him apprehensively. "Did you feel anything burning as you were drinking?" she asked quietly.

"There's a little bit of numbness in my throat," Atkynd admitted. "But no, nothing burning."

"Good," she sighed with relief. "Then the harrada should have no effect."

Atkynd frowned deeply as he turned the goblet around in his hands. "Were you… unsure as to whether you could neutralize the poison?" he asked her slowly.

"I was certain my preparation of the redwort was correct," she answered, though her tone was evasive. "But it might have still affected you." She looked back up at him, adding quietly, "I'm sorry… you were almost a victim of the cruelties of the Ayleids yourself."

"Every kingdom has its assassination attempts," Atkynd replied, trying to keep his voice lighter than he felt. He then lowered his voice and added, "Though this… is just a small sample of what your life is every day, isn't it?"

"Such is life in Cyrod," the girl shrugged, though her tone was laced with pain that she was clearly trying to suppress. "We live and die by our master's whims, and so we try to live the best lives we can. Doesn't everyone?"

"I… suppose," Atkynd agreed slowly.

"I do wish it were otherwise," the girl admitted. "But wishing won't make it so." She then smiled bleakly up at him, adding softly, "And it's not as though one person can free all the slaves." She seemed to consider saying more, but then they both heard the telltale sounds of footsteps approaching. She looked back up at him and added, "If anyone asks, you didn't see me."

"See who?" Atkynd asked with a wink. A slight smile tugged at the corner of the girl's lips as she backed into the fog, moments before the slave that had offered him the wine returned. He approached Atkynd and held his hand out of the goblet.

"Finished, my lord? How was your breakfast? Did you enjoy the wine?" he asked in a hurried tone. Atkynd noticed a nervous quaver in his voice, and the slave leaned in a bit closer. Atkynd watched him intently, realizing that his eyes were being drawn to Atkynd's red-stained lips.

"It was tart, and it burned more than I expected," Atkynd bluffed. "Was that perhaps spiced wine?"

Atkynd noted the look of relief that crossed the young man's face. "It was fortified wine, my lord, yes. It's stronger than normal wine, and the burning is meant to stimulate you for the day."

"I see! Not what I'm used to, but an interesting way to begin the morning. Send my compliments to your lord," Atkynd said with a polite nod.

"He'll be pleased to know that you enjoyed it," the slave bowed. He set the goblet on the platter and scampered back into the fog before Atkynd could say anything else. Atkynd exhaled, trying to still his heartbeat, and then he looked down at the loaf of bread still in his other hand. He considered it for a moment, then walked over to one of the canals leading into the lake. He then broke the bread into crumbs and sprinkled them into the water, watching them silently as they drifted away. He wasn't hungry anyways, he decided.

---

"What do you mean there's not enough room?" Atkynd demanded, scowling at the galley captain he was haggling with. It was some time later, near midday, and Atkynd had been trying for the last several hours to secure passage south on one of the galleys.

"I'm sorry," the captain said, though his tone clearly indicated that he was anything but. "With the festival ending, I need to keep my ship clear for anyone else who wants to sail."

Atkynd looked past him at the large galley bobbing in the water, which only held four elves and two horses tied to the side. "Yes, I can see that you're filled to bursting with passengers," he remarked drily, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Excuse me?" a voice said behind him. An Ayleid woman leading a large white horse by the reins stepped around Atkynd and smiled charmingly at the captain. "Do you have room?"

"More than enough, my lady!" the captain said cheerfully, stepping aside and sweeping his arm for her to climb aboard. "Please, find yourself a seat. One of my slaves will tend to your horse." When he turned back around to find Atkynd glaring at him, he added in a sneering tone, "As I said, there's simply no more room."

Atkynd chewed on the inside of his cheek, exhaling slowly to keep his rising anger in check. Green sparks snapped between his fingers for a moment, but he forced himself to calm down. While he might be able to charm the captain into agreeing to ferry him, the spell wouldn't last more than a few minutes, and he could hardly keep re-casting the spell to keep the captain docile. This was one fight he simply wasn't going to win, he realized, much to his irritation.

"I see. Thank you for your time," Atkynd said, bowing his head slightly in defeat. He noticed the Ayleid's triumphant smirk as he turned away, but he didn't let it rile him further. Besides, surely there was another captain that he could speak with. There were plenty of other ships in the harbor.

Atkynd began walking down the pier, making his way through the mass of Ayleids milling about on the docks. Despite the captain's blatant lies about his own ship being filled, there was a sizable crowd trying to book passage on the dozen or so galleys in the harbor. The Niben River was the most important waterway in Cyrod, and its tributaries spread throughout the south. For anyone traveling that direction, it was a far better option than walking, so it was little surprise that at least a third of the Ayleids in the city were trying to get aboard a ship.

As he made his way towards the north end of the pier, Atkynd spotted a familiar figure sweeping her way through the crowd. Arcanalata was striding quickly through the busy streets, making her way towards the entrance of Fanacasecul. Following behind her were a dozen slaves, including the small young woman that Atkynd had encountered twice already. Her head was bowed, and her wrists were bound to a long length of bronze chain that linked her with the other dozen slaves, all of which were being led along by Arcanalata like a pack of leashed dogs. He noticed she was sporting a fresh bruise on her cheek that hadn't been there that morning.

His gaze drifted past the group to the west, towards the great jungle. It wouldn't be long before they were back in Ceya-Tar, he mused. Back under the rule of Hadhuul, who treated children as game for hunting. Was it only children? If not… how long would the girl last? She seemed useful to Arcanalata, but he suspected that if the king wanted her for sport, even Arcanalata would be hard-pressed to say no. And even if she wasn't hunted, what else might happen to her? What else had happened to her?

A sinking feeling dug into the pit of his stomach as Atkynd looked away. The girl had done much for him since he'd arrived. She'd taken him to her home city, which she had been punished for. If what she had said that morning was true, she had even saved his life, risking her own if she had been discovered by Corilel. Why, though? He had helped her in the forest, true, but to go so far as to risk her life for him…?

Yet, what was there he could do for her in return? Beyond gratitude, he felt a surge of pity. She was a kind girl, yet this was the life she was bound to. Unless….

"Unless…." Atkynd repeated aloud. He hesitated just a moment longer, then found his feet carrying him towards the elven mage. Arcanalata noticed him approaching from her left, and she stopped short to turn towards him, regarding him with a mixture of surprise and interest. Her curiosity turned to satisfaction as Atkynd stopped short and inclined his head towards her in a bow.

"My Lady Arcanalata! It's a pleasure to see you again. A shame I couldn't find you during the festival," Atkynd said cheerfully. Arcanalata flicked her fingers at him, indicating that he could raise his head.

"Atkynd," she said, jerking her head towards him in a rough imitation of a return bow. "I'm surprised. I had thought you would have left by now."

"I've been trying to," Atkynd said, shooting a glare over his shoulder at the obstinate galley captain, who was now happily helping a family of eight Ayleids aboard. "But arranging transportation down the Niben River is proving… challenging."

"You're traveling south?" Arcanalata asked, raising an eyebrow. "I thought you said you came from the north. Do you have further business in southern Cyrod?"

"No, my lady, my business here is complete," Atkynd answered. "However, it would be unwise for me to return to Malabal using the mountain paths that I originally took. It's approaching late autumn, and snowfalls in the mountains near Skyrim are unpredictable and dangerous. Landslides and sudden freezes make the roads treacherous at best, so it's better to avoid them if possible. Instead, I intend to take a ship down the Niben River and then sail along the coast of Tamriel until I return to the Iliac Bay in Malabal. It'll be a long journey, but I hope to return to the mouth of the Bjoulsae River in about three weeks."

"Quite the journey indeed," Arcanalata agreed absently. She then eyed him suspiciously. "I hope you don't expect me to arrange transport for you. My favor for returning my slave extends only so far."

"Not at all!" Atkynd assured her quickly, holding up his hands. "I'll find a way to secure my own passage. You have my sincere gratitude for your help until now, however, and I wished to thank you."

"Well… you're quite welcome," Arcanalata said, seeming almost taken aback by his politeness. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must-"

"However!" Atkynd interjected, circling back in front of her with his index finger raised. "While I don't intend to impinge upon your graciousness any further, I would like to propose a business transaction, if you don't mind."

Arcanalata stared at him, and Atkynd could see her considering whether she should bother humoring him. After a few moments, she sighed and said, "Quickly."

"I would like to purchase one of your slaves," Atkynd said bluntly.

Once again, Arcanalata was rendered silent, gazing at him while considering whether he was serious. "I thought you claimed that slavery was not practiced in Malabal," she remarked.

"It's not, no," Atkynd agreed. "However, King Hadhuul expressed interest in pursuing the slave trade in Malabal. I was thinking that with a proper… example, my king might be more amenable to reconsidering his stance on the matter."

Arcanalata folded her arms across her chest and tapped her fingers against her bicep, pondering his response. Finally, she replied, "Very well. I would recommend you buy this one here. He's quite strong and very obedient, so-"

"Pardon me," Atkynd interjected, "but if I could make a suggestion?" Arcanalata narrowed her eyes at him as he walked over to the small young woman and held her up by her wrist. "I'm rather interested in this one."

"Indeed?" Arcanalata said coldly. "I'm afraid that I'm rather partial to that one myself."

"Understandably," Atkynd agreed, releasing the girl's wrists. He could feel her staring at him, wide-eyed, as he turned his back to her, keeping his focus on Arcanalata. "She has many excellent traits. Particularly, she's unusually intelligent, and very well-trained, which makes her an ideal specimen to show my king why your slaves are so valuable."

"Perhaps, but it's also dangerous for you to request a slave that's so intelligent," Arcanalata countered, slipping into a somewhat condescending tone. "The clever ones have a tendency to try escaping as soon as the opportunity presents itself. A rebellious slave is hardly something I'd recommend presenting to your king – it would be a wasted investment if she broke free before you returned home."

"I would normally agree, but this one seems especially obedient," Atkynd countered, keeping his own tone even. "After all, you wouldn't have allowed her to roam the jungle alone if you didn't trust her to return."

Arcanalata's frown deepened when she realized that Atkynd had a point. The tapping of her fingers on her bicep grew more furious, and Atkynd could practically hear her debating with herself. "As you said, she's well-trained," Arcanalata said slowly. "It would be difficult to replace her…."

"While I understand that accurately identifying plants is a valuable skill – one that even I lack – her abilities are more a testament to your ability to teach your slaves than anything else," Atkynd replied smoothly, falling back on flattery to convince the Ayleid. "I'm certain that it would be a trivial task for you to train another one to collect ingredients for you."

Arcanalata briefly grit her teeth, but when it became apparent that Atkynd was insistent, she finally sighed. "I expect to be properly compensated," she warned him.

"Naturally," Atkynd agreed. "As recompense, I'm more than willing to part with any of my wares. The quality is-"

"Do not insult me, boy," Arcanalata snarled, her voice suddenly turning cold. "No slave is worth a few scraps of tin."

Atkynd hesitated, and he could see Arcanalata's eyes light up as he faltered. They simultaneously seemed to realize that he had little to barter with that was equal in value to a slave, particularly one as valuable as the girl he was requesting.

"If you have nothing else to offer, then I'm afraid that we have no further business with each other," Arcanalata commented, not bothering to mask her smug tone. "If you'll excuse me…."

"Well… I do have one other piece that I'd like to present that's far more valuable than 'a few scraps of tin,'" Atkynd announced. His heart sank as he realized what he would have to offer, but he didn't have any other options. Arcanalata raised an eyebrow as he reached into his tunic and withdrew the silver amulet his mother had given him. Her eyes widened slightly, and Atkynd didn't let her interest escape his notice.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Atkynd pressed, extending it towards her, though he kept its chain around his neck. "It was given to me as a gift from my mother. This is pure silver, crafted by our finest smiths. The emerald in the center was one of the first and one of the largest extracted from my father's new gem mines. I can assure you, there's no piece comparable to it in all of the Bjoulsae."

Arcanalata hesitated, but then she straightened up, letting out a dismissive huff. "While it is pretty, I have little use for trinkets," she said, dropping into an indifferent tone.

"Indeed. Except, this is no mere trinket," Atkynd countered. "I have it on good authority that enchanters particularly prize flawless precious metals and gemstones. You would be hard-pressed to find silver as pure as this, and the emerald has no faults. It would be ideal for a powerful mage to weave spells into."

Arcanalata's eyes narrowed, and Atkynd could tell that she was mentally admitting, begrudgingly, that he had a point. "Still, I'm not so cruel as to part you from an amulet that has so much sentimental value attached to it," she insisted.

"I simply see it as guaranteeing that you are given a fair trade in return for such a valuable slave," Atkynd replied. "If this girl is so valuable to you, you deserve something of equal value in return, and this is the most valuable thing I have with me. Moreover, this ensures that you are not given a useless trinket, as you said, in exchange for a highly trained worker. You know what skills this girl possesses – she's intelligent, diligent, and obedient. What I'm offering you in return is nearly limitless potential. I'm certain that you can shape this amulet into a magickal artifact with a value which far exceeds that of a girl who has a talent for picking plants."

Arcanalata stared at Atkynd for several long moments. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck as the tense silence stretched uncomfortably, and he began to worry that he had overplayed his hand. At last, however, she let out a soft chuckle and shook her head.

"I should have learned not to permit you to speak," she said, though she sounded amused. "Very well. You've convinced me – the amulet for the girl. However!" she added, holding up a hand before he could move. "Ask me for nothing else. If you do, I fear that you'll find a way to swindle me out of my position in Ceya-Tar next."

"Thank you, my lady. Rest assured, I shall ask you no more favors," Atkynd said, bowing his head. Arcanalata sighed to herself as she walked over to the girl and withdrew a bronze key. The eyes of the other slaves followed her as she brushed past them, until every one of the Nedes was staring at the girl with a mixture of awe, envy, and fury. Arcanalata undid a lock keeping the girl bound to the chain of slaves, and then she walked the girl over to Atkynd, handing her the chains. She also pressed a smaller bronze key into his hand.

"If you need to remove her manacles," she explained.

"Of course," Atkynd nodded. He slipped the amulet off his neck, feeling a pang of regret stab through his chest as he stared at it for a short moment, and then he pressed it into Arcanalata's long, dusky gold fingers. The woman held it up by its chain, inspecting it in the sunlight, before nodding to herself and stuffing it into her robes.

"Very well. Our business here is concluded, and we must be off. We must return to Ceya-Tar by tomorrow," she announced. She turned to walk out of the city, but paused after a couple of steps, considering something. With a sigh, she turned around and added, "If you cannot secure a ship out of Fanacasecul, I would recommend traveling to the city of Vanua. When you leave Fanacasecul, take the road to the south. It will eventually turn east, and you will see Vanua on the eastern banks of the Niben River, after you cross a long bridge spanning the river."

"I'll take your recommendation into consideration," Atkynd said, bowing his head once more. "Thank you once again."

Arcanalata dismissively flicked her fingers at him before turning around and striding out of the city without once looking back at them. Atkynd's smile faded as he turned around. He was left standing alone in the middle of the street with the girl he'd just purchased staring up at him with wide eyes. In her expression, he saw awe, gratitude, and confusion. In a soft voice, she whispered, "I… you shouldn't have… I don't deserve this…."

Atkynd tilted his head in confusion, but she didn't elaborate. After after several long moments, he cleared his throat.

"I'm going to speak with two or three more captains," he announced. "If none of them allow us aboard, we'll do as Arcanalata suggested and travel to Vanua."

The girl seemed to snap out of her daze, and she nodded meekly, lowering her eyes to the ground. "I… as you wish…." she murmured.

Atkynd smiled, then immediately turned around and hurried to talk to one of the other captains. He could still feel the girl's curious gaze boring into his back as he waved to a brawny Ayleid standing in front of a blue-sailed galley, devoting his attention to securing passage rather than pausing to consider what he'd just done.

---

Unfortunately, Atkynd's continued efforts to arrange transport on one of Fanacasecul's galleys was as unsuccessful as his previous attempts, and by mid-afternoon, he had finally given up. Leaving the docks behind, he led the girl to the stables, and one of the boys tending to the horses fetched Emero after Atkynd requested him – Atkynd had returned his horse to the stables when he had realized that finding a captain was going to take longer than he'd thought. He noticed the boy shoot his companion a curious – even envious – look, but he didn't say anything, and moments later, he returned with Emero bridled and ready to be mounted. Emero stared at the girl with one eye before giving a disdainful snort.

"Be nice," Atkynd chided his horse. Then the girl surprised him by stepping forward and reaching out to touch his neck. Emero stared at her silently, but allowed the contact, and the girl smiled before lightly petting his flank.

"There now. I know we've only met once, so I understand why you're nervous," she said in a soothing voice. "It's nice to meet you properly. You're a pretty one, aren't you?"

"He's also stubborn and has a poor attitude," Atkynd said drily. His horse snorted again, as if in reply, and Atkynd added, "But he's loyal, and surprisingly gentle. He also seems quite taken with you."

"I'm pleased. I like animals, and I tend to think they like me too," the girl said with a slight smile at the beast. "You have a good horse."

"I'm glad you think so," Atkynd replied as he led them out of the gates of Fanacasecul and onto the highway. "Though don't praise him too much or he'll become insufferable. Still, it's good that you like him. It means that riding him will be that much easier for you."

The girl shrank into herself, even backing away a half-step. "I've told you… slaves don't ride horses," she said in almost a whisper.

"Well, then there's a simple solution to that. One I intended anyways, now that we've left," Atkynd replied. He approached her as he reached into his belt pouch and withdrew the bronze key that Arcanalata had given him. As she stared at him, mouth agape, he calmly unlocked the manacles binding her wrists, and then her ankles. She continued to stare at him in shock as he stepped back and added, "There. Now you're no longer a slave."

The girl slowly rubbed her wrists, staring up at him. Atkynd's smile faded, however, as she started shaking. "What?! Wh-what am I supposed to do now?!" she cried. "I don't… I have nowhere to go! If I'm caught, I'll be made a slave again! I-!"

"Please, calm down!" Atkynd exclaimed, holding his hands up as he stepped a bit closer to her. "I'm sorry, I should have explained. I don't intend for you to run off into the jungle with no direction or anything. If you'd like… I was planning on taking you with me back to Malabal." She stopped shivering and stared at him silently, at which point he stepped back and continued, "As I've said before, slavery isn't practiced in my homeland – while Nedes are a lower class, they're also free, and you can live your life as you please. I was thinking about setting you up in my king's city. You seem to know quite a bit about plants, so at the very least, you could live a comfortable life as an assistant to an alchemist. In time, you might even become a full alchemist yourself. It's rare, but not impossible. I figured you'd prefer that chance to a life of slavery."

The girl continued to stare at him in shock, seeming totally overwhelmed. "Why?" she finally asked in a hoarse whisper.

"Because I wish to," Atkynd shrugged. He then motioned to his horse, adding, "Would you like me to help you up?"

The girl stared up at Emero apprehensively, but then she swallowed and nodded. Atkynd came up behind her and briefly explained how she had to half-jump onto the horse's back and roll herself around until she was seated on him comfortably. As small as she was, she had some difficulty executing the maneuver, but with Atkynd helping her on, she was soon situated on Emero's back. Atkynd then climbed up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist to secure her and grab the reins. He felt the girl stiffen slightly at his touch, but when she realized he was just keeping her steady, she relaxed. Atkynd smiled to himself as he turned Emero to the south and began riding.

It took the girl a bit to get used to the sensation of the horse's back rising and falling beneath her, and Atkynd could feel her gripping his forearms tightly as she tried to maintain her balance, though she didn't say anything about her nervousness or discomfort. Fortunately, as a palfrey, Emero walked with a naturally smooth gait that was easy for a novice to get used to, and after a short time, she was no longer holding onto him quite so tightly, though it was clear that she was still uncomfortable.

Because it had been past midday when they had finally left, Atkynd and the girl didn't get very far before they started running out of daylight. The highway curved lazily around Lake Rumare, which Atkynd kept to his left, and eventually its southern course slowly turned southeast. Near a bend in the road, where the path turned fully east, Atkynd spotted another small Ayleid city, though its gates were tightly shut, and a half dozen Ayleid soldiers patrolled the walls, though none looked their way.

"Do you know what city that is?" Atkynd asked. The girl looked up at him, startled. She had been quiet for most of the journey, and Atkynd had no intention of pressing her into making conversation with him – after all, she was likely still in shock about how radically her life had changed in the past few hours, he mused. Still, she followed his gaze, and he could feel her small body stiffen against him again as she seemed to recognize the structure.

"Vindasel," she whispered.

"Ah. That's the city that Ceya-Tar is at war with, yes?" Atkynd asked.

The girl nodded quickly. "Could we… move faster, please?"

"Is something wrong?" Atkynd asked, frowning. "Does this have to do with Ceya-Tar's war with Vindasel, or…?"

"It's more than that," the girl explained, clearly trying to curb her rising anxiety. "I've heard terrible stories about Vindasel. They're masters of torture. The other slaves spoke of 'wailing wheels,' of slaves being flayed alive, their skin used to craft sculptures made of flesh." She shuddered, curling into herself, adding in a soft voice, "Please?"

Atkynd frowned as he stared at the marble walls, tapping his fingers against the reins. Part of him wanted to dismiss the girl's claims as hyperbole. After all, Vindasel was at war with her home city, and it would make a convenient story to terrorize the slaves into obedience. Yet… after watching Hadhuul immolate a pair of slave children for sport, he was less inclined to dismiss her story as mere exaggeration. He nudged his heels into Emero's flanks, urging the horse into a quicker canter as they hurried past the city.

The path led across forks in the Niben River, with sturdy marble bridges connecting the mainland to the small islands formed by the river. Atkynd rode Emero across two of the bridges, then slowed his horse down and walked him off the path towards a cluster of trees. The girl noticed what he was doing and looked up at him, confused.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"We're going to stop for today," Atkynd responded. He glanced over his shoulder towards the sun, which was already dipping towards the horizon. "We're running out of daylight, so now is a good time to make camp."

"Can we not ride further?" the girl asked, shivering as she looked behind them. Vindasel was almost out of sight, but in her opinion, it was clearly still too close for comfort.

"We can make camp in the jungle near the road, where we'll be relatively hidden," Atkynd assured her gently. "But I don't want to try riding through an unfamiliar country in the dark. If you could collect some firewood, I'll get started pitching the tent."

The girl swallowed, but nodded. "If I might ask, what were you planning to cook?"

"I have half a bag of dried beans and peas," Atkynd replied with a shrug. "It's simple, but it's enough to keep us going on the road. I usually boil them in a pot of water and eat them with some travel bread." His stomach growled as he suddenly realized this would be his first meal of the day. "It might strain our rations a bit, but I was planning to cook a little extra tonight."

The girl stared at him silently for a long moment. "Would you mind if I took a little more time in the woods to collect some things?" she asked.

Atkynd blinked at her, but then shrugged. "As you wish," he said. The girl smiled slightly and disappeared into the trees.

Over the course of the next hour, Atkynd set up the sheet of leather he had brought with him and ran some thick branches through it, building a crude, makeshift tent. He then set up a ring of stones, forming a small firepit. Once that was done, he patiently waited for the girl to return with the firewood, staring off at the distant waters of Lake Rumare and the Temple of the Ancestors rising above it while stubbornly ignoring his grumbling stomach. When he heard rustling behind him, he glanced over his shoulder and smiled at the girl as she returned. He blinked in surprise, however, when he saw what she had in her arms.

In addition to the firewood, she had managed to forage several ingredients. She had brought back wild purple and yellow carrots, small white mushrooms, wild green onions, a handful of colorful flowers, and thin sprigs of herbs that Atkynd didn't recognize. He gazed at her in amazement as she dropped them before the firepit that he had built and began setting up the sticks.

"Where… did you find all of this?" he asked slowly.

"It's not difficult if you know where to look," the girl replied, a slight smile twitching onto her lips as she arranged the sticks in a pyramidal shape. "Do you… mind if I cook?"

Atkynd glanced at the plants, then shrugged. "All of this is edible?" he asked, eyeing the flowers.

"All of it," she assured him. "And it'll be much tastier than mere boiled peas and beans."

"Do as you will, then," Atkynd said. The girl nodded again as Atkynd pulled out the small copper cauldron he had in Emero's saddle bags, as well as the wooden spoon he had used for cooking. After building a spit out of some branches, the girl hung the cauldron over the fire and poured water from Lake Rumare into it. She then slowly added the ingredients, muttering to herself as she began tearing the ingredients apart by hand. Seeing this, Atkynd reached to his belt and withdrew a small bronze knife. The girl stared at it, then slowly looked up at him.

"Are you certain?" she asked hesitantly.

"I'm offering it to you, aren't I?" Atkynd pointed out.

"…Of course. Forgive me," the girl added sheepishly. "Slaves usually aren't allowed to handle bronze tools. We must make do with stone."

"You're not a slave," Atkynd reminded her gently. The girl hesitated a moment longer, then gingerly took the knife and used it to slice the ingredients before dumping them into the pot. She brought the ingredients to a boil, then let them simmer until the sun began dipping below the horizon, whereupon she took the pot off the fire. Atkynd glanced inside the pot, examining the rich vegetable soup she had made. He smiled warmly at her as she set the pot on a flat rock, and he handed her a second wooden spoon that he had brought with him in case the first broke along the way.

"We can share the pot," he explained. She nodded, but motioned for him to take the first bite. Atkynd dipped his spoon into the thick vegetable soup and sampled it tentatively. A warm, earthen flavor filled his mouth as the taste of the wild vegetables spread across his tongue. The fresh herbs, wild onions, and edible wildflowers gave the soup an invigoratingly fresh flavor, while the mushrooms and carrots added a pleasant texture to the hearty base of the peas and beans. He lowered his spoon from his mouth with a smile of approval.

"This is by the best meal I've had since I began my journey," he praised her, motioning for her to sample it as well. "Where did you learn to cook like this?"

"It's something I've done since I first became Lady Arcanalata's slave," the girl replied, looking down. "Slaves are rarely given more than a thin cabbage soup or some bread. If I was lucky, I was given scraps from her table, but that was rare. So, from time to time, when I was told to find ingredients in the wild, I would sneak some vegetables to add to my food. Occasionally, I was caught and beaten for it, but as I got better at hiding what I'd found, I began to experiment more, and became a better cook." She looked up and concluded, "I learned as a necessity."

Atkynd's smile faded as he looked down at the pot of soup, his stomach sinking. It was just another example of how difficult her life had been, he mused. After a moment, he pushed himself up and walked over to Emero's saddle bags again, pulling out another small sack. Inside were thick wafers of hard, dark bread, one of which he broke in half before walking back to her and handing it to her, giving her the larger half. "Here. Soak this in the broth to soften it," he warned her.

The girl silently took the bread and did as he bade, dipping the bread into the broth before sucking on it, and then tentatively biting down. "It's good," she whispered.

"Really?" Atkynd asked, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice. Travel bread was made to keep for long journeys – flavor was not a major concern. "I'm glad you enjoy it then," he said after a moment.

The pair ate in silence for several long moments. Presently, the girl piped up, "May I ask you something?"

"Go ahead," Atkynd nodded.

"Why did you want to buy me in particular?" she asked.

Atkynd lowered his spoon. "Because you helped me," he explained simply. "You guided me out of the jungle when I was lost, and thanks to you introducing me to Lady Arcanalata, I was able to secure an audience with the Council of the Elders, something that I feared would be impossible. You also saved me from being poisoned… didn't you?" he asked. The girl nodded quickly, and a smile crossed his face. "In short, you saved my life, so I wanted to save yours. You said before that one person can't free all the slaves, and I agree. However, I could at least free one."

"…That amulet you traded for me. You said it belonged to your mother?" the girl asked quietly in a choked voice. "Was it special to you? I don't think I'm worth-!"

"Please," Atkynd interrupted her gently. "I traded a piece of metal with a rock in it for a human life. I think I got the better end of the deal," he added, smiling warmly.

The girl looked down, tears starting to roll down her face. "You shouldn't have saved me. I don't deserve it," she whispered.

"Of course you-" Atkynd began.

"You don't know what I've done!" the girl cried, looking up suddenly. "Who I am! I… Lady Arcanalata sent me to gather ingredients so that she could create new alchemical recipes for drugs and poisons. She… she used to test them on my fellow slaves. The potions she created… they did horrible things… one clawed his eyes out, screaming about the visions tormenting him… another was left shaking and foaming at the mouth for two nights straight until she finally passed away. And I helped her. I found the ingredients she needed. I helped prepare them, and though I never mixed her recipes, I learned them.

"The other slaves hated me for it, too. They saw me as her apprentice. I was treated better than they were, kept apart from them. I told you I was given scraps for food. They had it worse – they had to forage for fungus in the caverns where they were kept penned in like livestock. Or… if one of them died…!" She shivered, curling into herself, as sobs wracked her thin body.

"But even though I pitied them, wanted to help them… I didn't," she whispered after taking a long, shuddering breath. "I helped Lady Arcanalata because if I didn't, I would become one of them. Yes, I was beaten, starved… but they suffered far worse than I did. Yet, no matter how much they suffered, I didn't stop. I obeyed. I continued to drug and poison them. And now I'm free, and they're still trapped." She looked up at him, tears dripping down her cheeks and staining the tattered rags covering her body. "You should have saved one of them. Not me."

Atkynd slowly stirred the soup to keep it warm, gazing at her quietly while she continued to cry. He let her sob for several long moments, and when she finally quieted down slightly, he asked softly, "What would have happened if you had refused to gather the ingredients for her?"

The girl brushed her fingers over her eyes, muttering reluctantly, "She would have had me tortured, killed, or thrown into the pens with the other slaves. She would have tested her potions on me instead."

"And would she have been unable to gather the ingredients herself?" Atkynd continued. "Or would she have been unable to train someone else to do it?"

"No…." the girl admitted.

"So, defying her would have changed nothing for her, but you would have died," Atkynd concluded. "Therefore, for all intents and purposes, you had no choice in the matter, yes?"

"But… I'm still responsible for their suffering!" the girl insisted.

"Partially, yes," Atkynd agreed. "The same way that a branch that someone makes into a shaft for an arrow shares in the guilt of killing someone. So, would you cut down the tree for its part in the crime?"

The girl winced at the analogy. "Still… I was responsible," she muttered.

"Very well. If you believe so, then consider finding a way to atone," Atkynd said simply. "For instance, if you used alchemy to harm others, then when we arrive in Malabal, perhaps you should use your knowledge to become a healer instead. Surely you know some potions that can heal as well, yes?"

"Some…." she admitted. "It won't change what I did, though."

"No," Atkynd agreed softly, seeing that she wasn't going to stop blaming herself. "But it might help you find some measure of peace, which is what you really want, right? Perhaps in time those scars will heal. That's up to you, though – you're the only one who can forgive yourself." He then smiled and reached out to lightly wipe one of her cheeks. "But regardless of what you've done, you're clearly very compassionate. Otherwise, you wouldn't be so distraught. Therefore, I very much consider you worth saving."

A light flush appeared on the girl's cheeks, and she stared into the fire. "That's kind of you," she murmured.

A long silence settled over them as they continued eating. Once they had finished the pot of soup – Atkynd had insisted she eat at least half of it, despite her protests that she was already full – he took the cauldron and walked it over to the nearby lake, where he rinsed it in the cool water, where he pondered something. As he came back, he asked, "You said you didn't have a name, right?"

The girl shook her head. "No slave has a name, save those we give each other in secret."

"What were you called?" Atkynd asked gently.

She shook her head again, looking down. "It… doesn't matter now," she murmured, though the pain in her voice made Atkynd suspect that it wasn't something she wanted to discuss.

"I see," he said, deciding to shift her focus. "In that case… when are you happiest?"

The girl looked up, then gazed behind her, into the jungle. "I would say… when I was permitted to enter the forest. I love the trees, the animals, the fresh air… and at least for a little while, I always felt like I was free."

"Is that so?" Atkynd asked, following her gaze, a thoughtful look on his face. "In that case… what do you think of 'Tari' for a name?" he suggested, emphasizing the Ayleid word for "woods."

The girl stared into the fire quietly, considering. Then, slowly, she looked up, and a shy smile spread across her face. "I… rather like that, actually," she said softly.

"Tari it is then," Atkynd said, matching her smile with a grin. They gazed at each other for a few moments, and then Atkynd looked up at the twin moons rising into the velvety night sky. "Right. We should get some sleep – we'll want to be up early tomorrow." He dumped the cauldron of water he'd brought back with him over the fire, watching intently as it sizzled and died, to make sure there were no lingering embers. He then looked up at Tari, who was once again looking down.

"I… can sleep out here, if-" she began.

"Nonsense," Atkynd said, walking over to her and taking her by the arm. Tari let out a soft, surprised cry as he guided her to the tent and motioned for her to sit beside him on thin leather mat he had spread out. He gazed at her thin body, then unclipped his cloak and offered it to her. Her eyes widened, and she shook her head.

"I couldn't-!" she began.

"I insist," Atkynd said firmly over her protests. "It's too warm for me anyways – these clothes are made for much cooler weather. You can make far more use of this than I could."

Tari hesitated, then tentatively took his plaid cloak and wrapped it around herself before curling into a ball on the other side of the mat with her back to him. Still looking away from him, she whispered, "…Thank you."

"Sleep well, Tari," Atkynd said softly. She made a soft noise of acknowledgement and nodded once, but then she pulled the cloak over her wild hair and lay still. A smile crossed his lips as he laid back on the mat and closed his eyes. The crushing fatigue he'd been staving off all day washed over him all at once, and he was asleep within seconds.