The Jewel of the North
Village life had been quiet. Although Lyra had been familiar with everyone, she rarely engaged in conversation with her neighbours. Her mother had been the same, preferring to keep her distance, busying herself with work. They never shared the dinner table with the neighbours and rarely aided each other unless circumstances were dire. Blackthorn was quite the opposite.
There were groups of soldiers patrolling the winding streets, dressed in golden chainmail with golden cloaks, armed with shields ands swords. Lyra noticed a dragonhead emblazoned on the back of their capes marking them as a member of the Dragonite Order of Knights.
Domestic dogs and cats could be found on the streets wandering about and no one seemed to be bothered by their presence. All sorts of commoners could be identified. The slaves were easily noticeable because of the rags, and common soldiers wore chainmail and helms, armed with spears and shields. Local women wore dresses of different colours whilst the men dressed in tunics and black leggings. The air was filled with conversation. Some people were even pointing and looking in her direction.
"You'll be auctioned here," Archer said, gesturing towards the wooden podium.
Lyra spotted another boy with a rope wrapped around his neck, his arms and legs also bound by another piece of rope. He was on his knees. Lyra kept silent. More people had arrived in the city square. Even some of the soldiers had come over to investigate. She drew in a deep breath and swallowed, trying to ignore the tightening sensation in her stomach.
A tall man with a white beard sauntered towards her. The left side of his face had been burned. "The name's Blaine and I own you until you are sold, but first I need to check if you are worth anything to anyone. Archer. Bring her inside." He jerked his head to the left towards a small house.
"Of course." Archer grabbed her arm and led her away from the large crowd.
"Where did you find her? And how long have you had her?" Blaine said, as they entered the house. The room was mostly empty save for the table and chairs in the middle. Supposedly it was just a holding room for slaves until the auction. Blaine looked her up and down.
"In the village of New Bark Town. It's the smallest village I've ever visited."
"And you only found one?"
Archer shrugged. "We could only hold one more person."
Blaine drew his face close. "She looks ill."
"It's a poverty-stricken place. She needs good food. A comfortable bed to sleep in. She'll be right. Have I let you down before?" The man grunted. Archer continued. "Just as I expected. I've brought you slaves before. That Silver boy. He was a good find."
"You said he was given to you."
With a shrug of his shoulders, Archer said, "He was abandoned and given to me. I didn't want to raise some child, so I sold him to you in promise for some good coin." He paused, rubbed his chin then added, "Speaking of coin, I've travelled a long way to give you some slaves. Have I passed your test, Blaine?"
Blaine examined Lyra again, his hot breath washing up against her face. "I want Agatha to examine her. If she passes Agatha's test, then I will pay you the coin you seek. If she doesn't past the test, I won't pay you for this one. I'll return shortly. Don't go anywhere or you won't leave this city in one piece." The man retreated, exiting through the door.
Lyra remained silent and still, her heartbeats becoming more noticeable. It was as if she had just been running. Discomfort spread to her shoulders and her back, and even down to her legs. Fear and doubt were paralysing. She couldn't move even if she wanted to.
Archer had little interest in her too. He paced back and forth, unable to stand still. His pacing became more frantic as time passed on but came to an abrupt stop when the door swung open. An elderly woman with a hunched back stepped through the door, her long scraggly hair falling down her back.
"Agatha," Archer greeted.
The woman ignored him and sauntered towards Lyra as the men stepped back. She was a head shorter than herself, but the woman exuded an odd aura of power despite her diminutive frame making her look fragile. Agatha stopped before Lyra and reached out an arm to grab hers.
It was as if the woman had dunked her hands in ice cold water. Startled, Lyra withdrew her arm, prompting a low chuckle from the woman. A chill raced down her spine, unnerved.
Moments passed when the woman placed her other hand on Lyra's arm. Her grip tightened. Holding her gaze directly, Agatha said, "Arceus has blessed you." Agatha held her grip for a few moments longer then released Lyra's arm, a slow smile spreading across her face. She shifted her attention to the men. "Your captive is pure."
"How do you even know that?" Archer said.
"She is showing no signs of illness."
The man lifted a brow. "You can tell?"
"I am a doctor. I notice things ordinary people do not notice," the woman replied without even looking at the man. Her eyes were still focused on Lyra. "She will serve this kingdom well. Now, if there's nothing else you need of me, then I will walk myself out of this room and return to my quarters."
"Of course. Thank you for your time, Agatha," Blaine said, walking over to the door.
Agatha opened the door and left the building.
"You've passed the test. You'll be sold immediately," Blaine said before turning his attention to Archer. "I'll meet you at the city gates at sundown for your coin. You've done well today." Shifting his focus back to Lyra, he said, "Come on, girl. The crowd awaits." He held out his arm.
Lyra took it. What other choice did she have? Remaining silent, she allowed him to guide her back outside to a hungry mob.
.
"My word is final," Edward Blackthorn said from across the table, his voice low but calm.
His granddaughter, Clair, stood behind the chair on the opposite end of the table, her brows furrowed, and fists hanging at her sides. She paced back and forth her lips pressed together in a thin line. Many servants and even soldiers knew to keep their lips sealed when Clair was in one of her moods, but Edward knew better than to fall victim to her tantrum. She often resorted to childish behaviour to obtain her goals. "You will marry King Alder's grandson, Prince Benga. Your marriage will unite our two kingdoms."
Clair stopped pacing and spun around, grabbing the chair's headpiece, her fingers digging into the decorated wood. "I am not some puppet of yours, grandfather. I refuse to be married to Benga!"
Edward rose from his chair. "I am not just your grandfather – I am your King, and you will do as I command. The prince will arrive in four days' time to meet you before the ceremony. A grand feast will be held in his honour and I expect you to be on your best behaviour." In a less commanding tone he added, "This will benefit our kingdom greatly, Clair. We do have enemies that lurk in the shadows. The mages."
Clair scoffed. "The mages are no longer threat. You drove them away. You won the war. What are we afraid of?"
Edward walked over to the window and peered outside, his eyes shifting to the mountains in the distance. "Not all were killed during the battle. Quite a few of them survived and fled to the woods and the mountains." Once there had been a time the cities had been inundated with mages, but numerous battles and raids had significantly lowered their numbers over the decades. It was believed they had all died out, but Edward remained convinced they still existed, and often sent small raiding parties across the land to ensure no mage set foot upon their lands. "Mages aren't the only threat, Clair. Wolves exist."
He pulled his gaze from outside and looked upwards at the tapestry above the throne. To the left, a group of armoured men wielding swords and shields warding off against humans in robes. Wolves accompanied the robed people. It was said wolves were servants of magic having been products of nature themselves. However, the existence of wolves was often doubted.
"No one has seen a wolf in years since Lance killed one," Clair said. "And that was over five years ago."
The man nodded, a hand stroking his beard. "They are not easy creatures to find."
"I don't know what you are worried about." Clair moved to the opposite side of the throne. "We have the forces. You are the king of the Johto-Kanto region, and all eight cities and towns fall under your leadership. If you wanted an army it would not take long to assemble one. We could purge the world of these abominations."
Edward sighed, and walked over to the window again. Once more he looked towards the mountains as if the answers that he sought were there. He couldn't even see the mountain peaks for they were covered in a thick layer of cloud. Not even the bravest of men would climb to the top. "No other kingdom can field an army that can compare to our own. We need to seek aid elsewhere from foreign shores. Marriage will secure the aid we need."
Clair joined his joined. "Marriage? Lance isn't allowed to marry. Not until he's too old to serve in the army. Isn't that the oath the knights swear, or have you forgotten?" she jested, her arms folded over her chest.
He turned to face her, his jaw tightening. Before Clair could speak another word, he lifted a hand and struck her across the right cheek.
Shocked, Clair stepped back. "You just hit me!"
"I will not tolerate your lack of respect. You will marry Prince Benga of House Unova."
"Prince Benga is a boring man!" Clair protested. "Have you not considered my feelings about this? He prefers to keep his head buried in dusty books than being a man and fighting!"
Edward considered striking her again but restrained himself. Once had been enough. He didn't need her walking around the halls with a reddened face. "He is a suitable option for you, and a pleasant young man." Prince Benga was said to be a kind, wise man with a calm temperament – something Clair lacked. He hoped such a man could influence Clair to act like a normal woman. "You do not get a say in this.
"I am not going to marry a boring man," Clair hissed, her eyes narrowed.
"You will do as I say as long as you live under my rule," Edward replied, his voice low.
Clair recoiled, as if she had been struck in the face again. "You don't care what I want."
"Lance will make you see reason."
A sardonic laugh escaped her throat. "It always comes back to Lance, doesn't it?"
Edward curled his fingers into a fist. "He understands the sacrifices we must make in order to keep the peace You need to understand that and look outside your own interests. We are not commonfolk. Our responsibilities go beyond our own desires. The people of Blackthorn come first. I am doing what is best for the future of our people."
Her eyes narrowed in distaste. "That's the problem. You always do what you think is best for everyone, but you never actually ask for opinions outside your own. Don't even bother having the servants prepare a meal for me – I won't be returning to the castle tonight." She headed towards the door then stopped. Before leaving, she glanced over her shoulder and said, "An arranged marriage isn't going to make things better. A good king would realize that."
Edward opened his mouth to reply, but it was already too late. Clair had already left. Holding back a sigh, he turned back to the window and looked down below. He could see crowds of people in the city in the great courtyard. The markets were on today and nobles, peasants and the farmers had come together to exchange their goods. Some foreigners had also come to make a fortune, often bringing in rare pieces of jewellery and scents that only the rich could afford.
"One day you'll understand my decisions," he murmured. Storm clouds billowed to the south above the Blackthorn Forest. Many dangers lurked in the woods and only the strongest of his men could pass through. "Every decision I make is to protect our family," he said aloud. Before the war had even begun, an oracle had told him the Blackthorns would fall to magic. He wouldn't allow that to happen at whatever the cost. A knock on the door brought him out of his thoughts.
"My lord. Your presence is required downstairs. We have news." The voice belonged to his newest personal servant, Joey. The boy had been picked up from a recent slave auction and Edward had purchased him to save him from a crueller a fate. Although slaves in his castle were well looked after, the same couldn't be said for others.
Edward cleared his throat. "I will be there at once." He continued looking down at the courtyard below until he heard Joey's retreating footsteps. Drawing in a deep breath, he walked over a basket in the corner of the room and bent over to pick up his cloak. When in the public eye, he wore the red cloak which had the symbol of an orange dragon head stitched onto the back. It was the symbol of their people and represented strength and bravery. In private affairs, he wore a plain blue cloak. "May the scouts bring good news," he said to himself as he exited through the door.
.
Lyra was forced to kneel on a wooden podium as a thick rope was placed around her neck. Her arms and legs were also bound together by two separate pieces of rope to prevent her from escaping. Not that she would've even if she could. The place was guarded. Escape was nothing but a dream.
"Better to die than to be a slave."
A large crowd of people stood before the podium as they waited for their chance to purchase a slave. There were both men and women available, but none she recognized. All those she had travelled with had been killed by the wolves. A boy with shoulder-length red hair looked back at her, then spat at the ground. She winced, and he chuckled.
"You hear that? The crowd is getting excited. They can't wait to get their hands on us so we can do their dirty work, the lazy bastards. I'm not even for a sale, but that bastard wants to humiliate me some more."
Such a different landscape from what she had grown accustomed to. So many people. So much sound and colour. Arceus was a cruel god. She should've died. She wanted to die. Yet she had survived and witnessed death to become a slave. Only a cruel and a wicked god would allow such a fate. "And who are you?"
"Silver."
The boy that had been abandoned and sold into slavery according to the conversation exchanged between Archer and Blaine.
He snorted. "Not that names even matter. They might decide to give you a new one. You might even be branded with a unique mark so no other master can punish you, but your own master. When they tire of us, they send us to the Pits to die."
"Why aren't you being sold?" Several people in the crowd were pointing at her. One of them even laughed. Her stomach muscles tightened, and she bit down her lower lip. Who would she end up serving? Why had Arceus allowed her to live? Even if she tried to kill herself, she'd somehow survive. Something would happen. He wanted her to live. But why?
"Entertainment. He thinks its funny to put me on for show." He spat at the ground again then looked her up and down. "They'll like you all right. I assume you're a maiden? I pity you if you end up with the commonfolk. They'll certainly rough you up. You should be begging for death."
She shook her head. "I won't let them touch me."
"You think you have a choice? You're such a naive girl. You're one of those country folks aren't you? From a small town?"
Lyra remained silent.
"I figured as much. What do you know about city life? I grew up in the city. I grew up in this filth. I know what happens in these places and if you think you have a choice then you're even more foolish than I thought. You'll be raped tonight. Probably shared by a group."
"You don't know that for sure," Lyra replied.
Silver gave a sardonic laugh. "You really are stupid, aren't you? I suppose you country folk think the world is a nice place. Led to believe the aristocrats are nice people and could never do anything wrong." He tilted his head forward. More people had arrived. "See the smiles on their faces? Don't be fooled. Behind their smiles is a wicked mind."
Lyra didn't respond. She looked towards the crowd again. One of the smiling men walked towards her and reached out a hand, wanting to toucher her, but the guards pushed him back. He tried to fight back but was easily overpowered by the stronger guards. She remained silent, observing, doing her best to hold back tears. Tears would not help her. It would probably only make the situation worse.
"If you can find a way to ease the pain permanently, do it. Better to die than to live the rest of your life as a slave," he said, shifting his attention elsewhere, a scowl on his face. "Here comes the auctioneer." He turned his head to the right.
Lyra followed his gaze, training her eyes on a short squat man with a thick moustache and ginger beard. If she had been standing, the man would've only come to her waist. Still, as short as he was, the crowd seemed to respect him as their laughter and conversation died down. Dressed in all white clothing, the man walked up the stairs onto the podium carrying a golden in his right hand and a small hammer. She supposed he rang the bell to make a sale or to call for silence. He ignored her and walked to the centre of the stage and addressed the crowd.
"Good morning ladies and gentlemen! It is with my great honour that I hold the monthly auction event! We have several servants available every day this week to cater for your household needs! If someone has placed a bid, you have ten seconds to outbid them otherwise the sale will be made."
The crowd met his words with applause. Some people were already pulling out their pouches of coins. Bronze and silver coins were common among the peasants, but only the rich had gold coins in their possession. Twenty-five bronze coins equalled one silver coin and fifty silvers made a single gold coin.
"And let the fun begin…." Silver muttered.
"This morning I have five healthy slaves available! We have three males and two females! This one here in the middle isn't for sale, but he's a prime example of the good health these slaves are in! Make your offers before these slaves are gone forever!"
"Twenty bronze coins!"
"Thirty silver coins!"
"One gold coin!"
Silver snorted. "Twenty bronze coins?"
Lyra ignored him. People were pushing to get to the front of the crowd to examine the slaves up close. One man with a thick moustache with a round face approached her. He was dressed in the standard peasant clothing; a brown tunic with a thin black rope tied around his waist.
He reached a hand towards her, his fat fingers pinching her cheeks. The guards didn't even try to stop him; it seems that once the auction had begun, little care was shown towards the slaves on the market.
She jerked her head back earning a chuckle from the man. "I'm interested in this one. I will pay ten gold coins for her."
"This is an auction, sir. You have to outbid the others before you can claim her."
The man's smile faded. "Do you not recognize me? I am Chuck, the King's right-hand man, and I will purchase this woman."
For a man who was the King's right hand, he certainly didn't look the part. He was a brutish man with thick arms and legs; he looked more at home on a battlefield than living in the royal castle. Lyra assumed that he had come here dressed in ordinary clothing to not draw attention.
A faint red blush appeared on the auctioneer's cheeks. "I am sorry, sir. I-I did not recognize you. Of course. You may have her."
Chuck handed him a large brown pouch full of golden coins then exchanged handshakes with the auctioneer. Turning his attention to Lyra, he said, "On your feet, girl. I will not ask twice." He grabbed Lyra by the wrist, his fingernails digging into her skin.
The rope binding her arms together was untied and she was able to stand. She clambered to her feet and glanced in Silver's direction, but he did not meet her gaze. He was looking elsewhere. She averted her gaze and returned her attention to Chuck.
He guided her away from the crowded auction area and towards the markets. There was a large crowd of people here as well, walking up and down the paved street, browsing the stalls for products that would benefit them or their households. There were stalls selling magical potions. Stalls selling fruits. Some stalls even sold weapons ranging from simple crossbows to short swords. She even spotted a stall selling clothing.
"You will be trained to serve the King," the man said as he navigated through the crowd. Even though his grip was firm, she was glad otherwise she'd become lost in the sea of people. "You will be taught how to perform your duties to the best of your ability to serve King Blackthorn. Sheila will take care of you up until you're training has been done. You will do as you are told. Is that understood, girl?"
She nodded, drawing in a deep breath to steady her racing heartbeat.
"What is your name?"
"Ly-Lyra," she said, her stomach twisting into a knot. He was the King's right hand. He was going to expect great things from her and if she failed to perform… She didn't dare think of what the consequences would entail. Perhaps she'd be fed to the dogs.
"This is your life now, Lyra. You serve the Crown. Whatever life you lived before is in the past and must be forgotten. Your purpose now is to serve. When your training has been completed, the King will analyse you himself and then pass his judgement. Do I make myself clear, Lyra?"
She nodded again. "Yes sir," she answered.
"Do you know how to read and write?"
"Yes sir," she repeated. Her mother had taught her how to read and write.
The man frowned, impressed. "That's an important set of skills you have. Many slaves we capture lack the basics." He continued leading her through the markets until they reached an iron gate. Two guards were standing outside. When they recognized them, they opened the gates to allow them entrance.
Lyra looked ahead in awe. A castle of white stone towered over the kingdom, casting a black shadow over the courtyard. Hedges lined both sides of the single white cobblestone path to the castle gate. The castle itself consisted of five levels and there were four watch towers in each corner to provide sight in all directions.
"This will become your home when you have passed judgement. But for the next three days you will live within the slave quarters." He lifted a hand and pointed to the east, bringing her attention to a wooden building with a straw roof. It was only one storey high and probably had enough rooms for ten people. "Now come. I will introduce you to Sheila."
Lyra kept her mouth shut and followed him towards the building. It wasn't as if she had a choice – he was holding her arm and running away would be foolish. Better to end up here under the protection of the King's right-hand man than be purchased by some commoner.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. The door swung open revealing a woman dressed in a plain grey dress. Lyra saw the beginnings of wrinkles around her hazel eyes. The calloused hands also told her this woman had endured many long years of hard labour. Still, despite this, the woman managed a smile.
"Another one to join the flock?"
Chuck nodded, releasing his grip on her arm. "Yes. Probably in her early twenties. Probably taken from a neighbouring village like the rest of them."
"Oh, you poor thing," the woman said. "What an awful experience, but you must put that grief behind you now. Come inside, dear. Allow me to help you settle into your new life. Be grateful you have a chance to live and serve a great king." She looked at Chuck and waved a hand. "I'll take over now. Report back to the king. Farewell, Chuck."
He bowed. "Farewell, Sheila." He turned his back and walked away.
Once he was gone, Sheila opened the door then gestured for Lyra to follow. The building wasn't as furnished as she thought it would be. She had expected something like her old house, but there were no paintings or decorations in sight. There was a fireplace and a wooden table that could seat ten people and a work bench with the tools for cooking. The other rooms were most likely used for sleeping.
"Although you are being trained for to act as a servant for the king, you will be sleeping here. Slaves are not allowed to sleep within the castle walls. Your room is the last one on the right," Sheila said, raising a hand and drawing her attention to the end of the hall. "What is your name?"
"Lyra."
"That's a pretty name. One of the boys here mentioned the name. You could be her or perhaps not. Does the name Ethan sound familiar to you?"
Ethan. Yes, she recognized the name. Her childhood friend. Lyra nodded. "Yes, it does. We grew up in the same village." And the boy had just disappeared one day. She hoped she had a chance to talk to him about that.
"Oh, excellent. Ethan!" she called out.
A young adult male entered the room. He was good foot taller than Lyra and dressed in a brown tunic, much like the one Chuck had been using. His brown hair fell just beneath the shoulders and there was even a trace of stubble on his chin.
"Sheila, we've got a problem with one of the horses out the back. I think it's-Lyra?"
She stared back at him. "Ethan."