Chapter 8: Revival
-Two Months Later
Men roared from the seats in the arena as two figures clashed in the bloodstained sands below. A giant of a man, bellowing and slashing, tried with every ounce of his being to kill the swordsman before him.
The swordsman, agile and swift, danced around the giant's heavy blows with a calculated sense of temerity. His eyes narrowed in focus, never losing sight of his opponent's movements, his eyes focused on the two bloodstained broadswords his opponent brandished.
With each clash of steel, sparks flew which seemed to goad the spectators of the arena even further as they raged and roared, desperate to see blood drawn by their champion. The crowd erupted into cheers and jeers, their emotions riding the waves of the battle unfolding before them. Some shouted words of encouragement for the hulking man, while others placed bets on the clear favorite to win the match, their excited voices blending into a cacophony of noise that echoed off the stone walls.
Despite the giant's immense strength and ferocity, the swordsman continued to hold his guard with unwavering resolve. His blade moved like an extension of his own body, striking with precision and purpose. Each parry aimed not just to defend, but to find the chinks in his opponent's armor, the vulnerabilities waiting to be exploited. Each strike was calculated, one aimed under the armpit, another slashed to the groin but there was no success just yet. As the fight raged on, the giant began to slow, his breathing growing labored under the weight of his own exertion and his adrenaline beginning to wane as time went on. Sensing an opportunity, the swordsman pressed his advantage, launching a flurry of strikes with renewed intensity. Seeing an opening, he drove his sword down into the knee of the giant. The giant began to scream out in pain, collapsing to the ground and before he could utter another sound, the swordsman slashed his sword across, opening up the throat of his victim as he collapsed to the ground, gurgling blood.
The crowd erupted into thunderous roars, awash with applause at the underdog who had won the fight. They threw flowers and coins into the arena at the champion, their cheers ringing out in celebration of the victor's skill and prowess. Amidst the victory and the adrenaline which consumed him and had not begun to leave him in the slightest, Robb stared at the dead man lying in front of him in a pool of crimson blood that continued to get bigger and bigger. He looked more relaxed in death, peaceful even with no semblance of the menace or despair that he had shown to Robb in life.
Robb wondered what he had been before he was forced into the pits either to fight or surrender his life. Was he a farmer or a cobbler perhaps? Had he a wife waiting at home and maybe children before he was forced into this life. Robb looked back up at the crowd again, cheering for him and completely indifferent to the violent fate that had become of the man they had once cheered on and entrusted with their coin just a few moments before. A deep sense of disgust welled up inside of Robb, heightening the senses of the cuts and bruises he had sustained in his fight and he looked away from the crowd, from the roses and coins and looked for a way to escape the revulsion and shame he now felt.
A happy voice came from behind Robb "Excellent, excellent, you finished the fight quickly today"
Robb turned to see Santoras, flanked by his guards and a well dressed man that was likely the town magistrate or whatever the equivalent existed in towns this far east. Robb turned around and the men hesitated as they eyed the sword Robb still grasped in his hand. Robb saw these nervous expressions and understood, tossing his sword away into the sand behind him before anybody could think more of it. Understanding there would be no defiance, Santoras continued up to Robb, looking him up and down before proclaiming, "It will be a shame to part with you once I find the highest bidder, you've made me quite a sum in these pits."
Robb responded, "Now that I won, will you at least tell me where we are."
Santoras grinned, "All you need to know is that we're long gone from Westeros and past the Free Cities. You know, you were in that hold chained up and bloody for quite a while, I wasn't sure you'd survive the flogging much less the infections that followed. You did well to survive that and even mustered the strength to win in the pits over the last week much to my pleasant surprise."
Robb grew frustrated at the fake show of love, "If you're so pleased with me, grant me my freedom and that Elia. Surely I've made you more here in winnings than you could have gotten selling her and I." Santoras looked at him with a quivering face and Robb felt uneasy looking at the expression, thinking that he had made the man furious. However, Santoras broke out into loud, booming laughter and his guards and the magistrate followed suit as if Robb was the source of the greatest humor in Essos. Anger welled up inside of Robb but he did well not to act on it, knowing it would be only a source of greater pain and torment. Santoras finally spoke again after taking a while to compose himself, eyes watery with laughter. "I'm a slaver and a pirate boy, SLAVER! Now what kind of slaver would I be if I freed my slaves. I'll tell you, A BAD ONE! And you are a slave which means you either release all your grand notions of freedom or you'll end up nailed to a post with your eyes food for the crows like all the else who shared your current disposition."
"What will happen to Elia?"
Santoras looked at him, exasperated with what he viewed as pure gullibility, "You know I came to you with excitement about what you had done here but you're beginning to weigh heavily on my nerves. What do you think? He asked rhetorically. "I planned to sell her to the highest bidder and I did a while back when we crossed through some outposts on the Stepstones. I was planning to bring you out to watch but I figured watching them drag her away screaming would have smothered your spirits and finished you completely."
Robb was furious, regretting tossing away his sword as he would have fought a hundred men for a chance to run his sword through the bastard that stood in front of him. "Go ahead and sell me then, give it a day, a year, ten years even. I will escape and when I do, I will find you and I'll you and all the vermin who act like you."
Santoras in turn became furious and drew his saber, swinging it within an inch of Robb's throat and holding it in place. "I could have killed you as soon as they surrendered you to me. I could've killed you after you tried to escape. I could kill you now but it's not enough. I'll sell you and be happier for it, knowing that my purse is heavier and you will suffer infinitely more than if I opened your throat now. You'll die knowing you'll be scrap for the dogs and that girl you fought so hard to protect is getting passed around from man to man like a common flagon of wine."
He turned to his men
"Take him back to the hold and give him nothing, no water or food. I've given too much already for this insolent shit"
Robb was seized roughly by the shoulder and made to walk at a fast pace despite the cuts and bruises to his arms and legs. Robb turned his head to get one last look at Santoras and the thin, well-garbed magistrate that accompanied him. They were already laughing together again as they walked away, Santoras's encounter with Robb seemed to be to them a long past occurrence. Robb thought of what was going through at this moment, the terror and fear she must feel in her current situation, what injustices she was facing. Robb felt hot as fury formed a pit in his stomach. This was not the anger or rage that ebbed and flowed depending on the circumstances of the moment. This feeling felt to Robb as if it would last forever and would only release with the end of life.
Robb swore to himself they would die. The guards who shoved him from behind and jeered at him and his limp, Santoras and the rest of his men, and the magistrate and all the other slavers in the town he was in. They would all suffer in the way they had made others suffer. Robb would not afford them the luxury nor the mercy of a quick or painless death. Robb did not sleep that night in the hold, not because of the swaying ship or the hard wooden floor. He had become accustomed to that, no, Robb couldn't rest or even relax due to that feeling in his stomach, that source of fury that kept him hot blooded and reminded him of what had happened and what would happen to the evil he had faced. A guard walked up to Robb's cell in the morning, ushering him out and escorting him to the top deck and then off the ship. Robb asked, "Are you taking me to the market"
The guard gave him a suspicious look before being satisfied that he wasn't planning any trouble and replied, "The market? No, some men were impressed with the fight you put up in the arena and made the captain quite the offer in order to keep you from going to auction."
Robb gave a queer look, conflicted as he was both excited to be gone from Santoras's ship and the unpleasant experience he had but also nervous and concerned at the prospects he faced in bondage to his buyer. Would he be able to escape easily or would he face even more obstacles than he had with Santoras? Where would he be going and what would he be doing?
The guard mistook Robb's confusion for happiness and gave a dry laugh, "I wouldn't be too happy to be rid of us, boy. You weren't bought to be a servant or a guard. I hope you liked what you did in the arena yesterday because you will be continuing to do so for quite a while longer. The men who bought you are also slaves but they sell to only a select, wealthy bunch."
Robb replied, "What do you mean?"
"They'll likely take you to Slaver's Bay, is what I mean, to be sold to the highest bidder, only this time you are sure to continue to fight as in those cities, male slaves meant to fight in the games go for the highest price?"
The guard escorted Robb into the town, pressing his spear into his back ever so often in order to remind Robb of what would await him if he tried to resist. Robb had no intentions of risking a spear to the gut at the moment though as he recognized that even if he got past his captor, there were other armed guards visible to him that likely wouldn't just watch a slave escape. So he resigned himself to fate for the moment and surveyed the town, trying to gauge where he could be. He knew he was in Essos, past the Free Cities by the nature of his circumstances, Master Luwin had taught him that much of geography in his childhood lessons.
The guard had also mentioned he was headed to Slaver's Bay which meant he was either farther east or between the Free Cities and Slaver's Bay. Robb studied the town with its bright canopies, shading market stalls selling regular and exotic commerce alike, everything from oranges to massive birds spanning every color of the rainbow. Robb was puzzled and asked, "Which town are we in?" The guard, deciding that Robb would only be his responsibility for a few more moments decided to afford him that information, saying, "The lads say we're in a city known as Mantarys, somewhere just above the ruins of Valyria."
Robb nodded in appreciation and a mental picture of his location began to form. He remembered Maester Luwin mentioning something like that to a certain degree when they had reviewed Essos as a child and his remarks about how a potential future tour of Essos should never span that far east and that what the Free Cities had to offer were of infinitely better quality than the hive of degeneracy that constituted those regions.
It seemed to Rob that perhaps Luwin's assessment of cities like this were exaggerated, the weather seemed nice and the streets were bustling, packed with commerce and amusement. However at that moment they turned down towards the docks and Robb felt as if Luwin's words had not begun to describe the evil that was concentrated here. People destined for slavery were bound together in rope and chain, some crying but most with a blank expression, having resigned themselves to their fate.
Men clamored at auction blocks yelling the prices they would pay for those on wooden podiums, some prodding, poking, and tearing for a better look at potential property. The worst part to Robb however was the smell permeating through the air and seemingly penetrating into his skin. Those not on sale were crammed into small pens, the floors wet with what Robb hoped was just mud. Men, women, and children all huddled together not for warmth, but out of hope it would protect them from being singled out by any potential buyers. Robb looked on in horror, so taken aback by the terrible state of what he was seeing that he stopped dead in his tracks. He felt a spear dig into his back once again, "Petrified, are we lad? Come along, you're almost off my hands."
Robb cooperated, continuing once again but still staring wide eyed at the sight in front of him. They continued through the slave market, Robb feeling the butt of the spear prod into his back from time to time as the guard was anxious to get Robb out of his custody and get back to enjoying the fruits of the town.
"There they are up ahead boy, those are to be your new masters. You best treat them well or they'll do worse to you than what Santoras threatened."
Robb saw the men referenced, they wore bronze breastplates with colorful silk garments underneath. Each wore a thick saber and whip on their hip as well as greaves of the same material as their breastplates. They were looking at Robb as a fat man eyes a meal, some pointing at him and making remarks to others, some eying him up and down just as Robb had seen just a few moments ago to the slaves on the auction block. The reality finally fully sunk into Robb that he was of the same distinction as those poor souls, he faced the same grim fate as those he had seen huddled in those pens, fearing their futures.
The guard said a few last words to Robb, "Can't say it wasn't fun watching you carve through men in the arena boy. Hell you even killed a man I owed quite a sum defending that ship." Robb looked back at the pirate, puzzled by the words and weighing whether or not he would even care for a response. Before Robb could reflect on it further, the pirate turned to the slavers in front of him. "Here's the fellow. Give me the other half of the payment to bring to my captain and I'll be on my way." A bearded man among the slavers stepped forward, a sneer on his lips as he tossed a pouch of coins to the guard. "You've done your part, now leave us," he grunted, his voice coarse and commanding. The guard nodded, pocketing the coins with a grin before turning on his heel and disappearing into the crowded streets. Robb stood there, feeling the eyes around press down on him like a leaden cloak. He was now at the mercy of these slavers, facing an uncertain future far from home. The bearded man approached him, his eyes assessing and calculating. "You're from Westeros, yes?" he said, his voice laced with contempt.
Robb swallowed hard, nodding silently. He hoped the implications of his identity wouldn't cause any undue trouble for him, but it seemed that his reputation had preceded him regardless of his hopes. "Well, welcome to your new life," the man said with a cruel smirk. "You'll find that things are different here in Mantarys than in the lands you called home once. You will never again experience being a free man regardless of what you do from here on. You'll get the opportunity to train here until we feel you are ready enough to be sent to the great arenas of Slaver's Bay where you will fight and if you are skilled and lucky enough to survive, you'll fight some more until they get bored of you and feed you to whichever beasts meet their fancy. Fortunately for you, it doesn't seem like you'll last long enough to meet that fate." He said as he looked Robb up and down. The bearded man's words echoed in Robb's mind as they led him away from the bustling slave market. His heart pounded with a mixture of fear and anger. Fear for the uncertain and terrible future that awaited him, and anger at the injustice of being stripped of his freedom and forced into a life of brutality.
As they walked through the labyrinthine streets of Mantarys, Robb couldn't shake the feeling of being trapped in a nightmare. The sights and sounds of the city assaulted his senses—the clamor of voices, the pungent stench of decay, the oppressive heat that hung heavy in the air. It seemed as if the city represented the two opposite sides of fortune, one side with its lavish experiences and penultimate luxuries and the other side terrible with promises of eternal burden and limitless squalor and pain,Eventually, they arrived at a large complex built of brown bricks with a crimson hue tucked into the very edge of the city with a large fenced yard facing the countryside. As they led Robb inside, it seemed a grim fortress of stone and iron and he noted how the buildings they led him to inside were surrounded by high walls flanked by guards armed with iron-tipped bludgeons. Robb's heart sank as he realized that this would be his new home, at least for the foreseeable future and there were extreme measures taken to ensure that the very idea of escaping would be ludicrous.
He was pushed into a cell block with rows of iron cages lining the walls each with a bed of straw, a bucket, and little else. There, he was greeted by a motley crew of other slaves—men of all ages, each bearing the scars of their own struggles. Some looked at him with curiosity, while others regarded him with wary indifference. Robb scanned the faces around him, searching for any sign of hope or solidarity. But all he saw was resignation and distrust. It was clear they knew what he had surmised that escape would not come easy and it would be likely it wouldn't come at all. After being handed over to the main slaver, Robb was met with a gaze that seemed to strip away any semblance of hope he had left.
The man's eyes bore into him, assessing him like a piece of meat. Robb felt a shiver run down his spine as the slaver's lips twisted into a cruel smirk. "You'll do well to remember your place here, boy," the slaver growled, his voice dripping with malice. "You're nothing but a slave now, and you'll obey my every command without question. Do you understand?" Robb nodded silently, his throat dry. He knew better than to defy the slaver, at least for now as he eyed the whip at the man's hip. His only hope lay in biding his time and waiting for the right moment to make his escape. With a dismissive wave of his hand, the slaver turned and motioned for his men to take Robb away.
They bound his hands and led him through the labyrinthine corridors of the compound, their footsteps echoing ominously against the cold stone walls. Finally, they reached a dimly lit cell at the end of a long hallway. The door creaked open, revealing a cramped and filthy space littered with straw and vermin. It was a far cry from the comforts of home that Robb had once known. As he lay down on the hard floor with little straw to comfort his back, exhaustion washed over him like a tidal wave and he felt the scars that had barely healed from when he had been whipped mercilessly. Robb couldn't shake the feeling of dread that gnawed at his insides mixed with that deep pit of anger nestled inside him.
Sleep came fitfully, plagued by nightmares of chains and bloodshed. In his dreams, Robb was back in the arena, surrounded by jeering crowds and the clash of steel on steel. He fought with all his strength, but no matter how hard he tried, he could not escape the specter of his captors looming over him like vultures. He faced his opponent angrily, striking at the figure over and over again. He finally broke through the guard and stabbed the figure through the chest. When Robb looked closer however, he saw the familiar face of Elia.
"Why?" She said with a betrayed face and Robb shuddered, stepping back and stumbling down into a deep pit, freefalling into the dark abyss with the voice of Elia echoing all around him.
With a start, Robb awoke to the harsh light of morning filtering through the tiny window of his cell. His heart pounded in his chest as he realized where he was and felt pangs of hunger grumble in his stomach. He heard footsteps get closer until Robb was greeted by the harsh commands of his captors. They roughly ordered him to his feet and led him through the hallways so quickly Robb couldn't take much in to formulate an escape.
Dragging him out into the blinding sunlight of the training yard, Robb saw the figures of many other men, all lined up uniformly in roughspun tunics, sweat covering their toned bodies. The same man that had explained Robb's new reality of being lower than dung stood in front of the group, his eyes trained on Robb. "Attention, we have a new arrival today. A fighter from the pits who found enough success to catch the eye of our master. He is yet the weakling however, a boy not fit to call himself a true warrior. Daros!" The man beckoned to a tall, well muscled man with a dark complexion, "Show this Westerosi dog the true nature of what we do here to prepare for the pits." The man bowed and responded, "Yes master." The man turned and faced Robb with a smile, confident that he would end things rather quickly. The two were given swords which Robb noticed were iron but blunted in order to protect investments.
They were led to a fenced area which served as the arena which the fighters gathered around, the slave master joining the two combatants inside the arena to administer the fight. The crowd of pit slaves talked quietly, many laughing at Robb's skinny, emaciated figure while others made wagers on how quickly the fight would end. Robb heard these words and his blood boiled. These were slaves being prepared for slaughter, their fates quickly becoming intertwined with death and all they could think about and conversate was about how quickly one of their ranks would become amusement for their masters. Robb swung the iron sword against the air a couple times, frustrated with its crude imbalances but getting a feel for its reach and speed.
He looked across to where his opponent was standing but before he could study him at all, he heard the pit master yell out, "Begin". Robb's opponent quickly advanced with a callous sense of confidence, wanting to end things as quickly as possible so as to amuse his comrades. Robb assumed a defensive stance, waiting for a strike in order to assess the strength of the attacks which would be levied against him. His opponent took the bait, striking hard with an uppercut then following up with a long slice aimed at Robb's leg. Robb parried the first and stepped back to avoid the other. He heard the jeers around him, "Fuck him up, Daros", "Beat the Westerosi bitch".
Robb felt anger rise up in him once again but channeled it in reserve, waiting for his time. The fight began to intensify as both men recognized the skill of the other and strikes were thrown in hesitation, wary of counters. The sound of steel clashing against steel filled the air, punctuated by the grunts and cries of those locked in combat. Robb began to weaken, his stamina depleted from his constant participation in the pits in the days before along with the lack of food and water he had been given. Robb knew he had to win the fight soon otherwise he would be overwhelmed and defeated. He feigned exhaustion, easy to do in his state and began to weaken his right guard every time he parried on that side. Daros noticed and pressed heavier and heavier on his right, hoping to exploit the weakness and win. Daros wound back for a huge strike, knowing Robb would be incapable of parrying and Robb took advantage.
Rather than blocking, when Daros wound back, Robb stepped forward, stunning his opponent by slamming his hilt into his nose and following up with a vicious slash to the head. Daros fell back unconscious, blood welling from his nose and head regardless of the blunted swords and Robb stumbled back, victorious. Everyone around him stood shocked, even the pit master to an extent. Against his better judgment, Robb called out, "You all were right to guess the fight would end soon, just picked the wrong man to fall." Robb gestured to Daros's unconscious body. The crowd began to talk loudly, each man piping up with his say about what had just occurred. The pit master spoke up, "SILENCE!" The yard went from rowdy and loud to quiet within a moment, he turned to Robb, "Alright boy, perhaps there is more to Westeros than just sheep and peasants." He turned to the pit slaves, "Barca, Dwal, take Daros to his cell to recover. The rest of you, get in formation"
They all lined up the same way they had when Robb had entered the courtyard, he followed and took the empty place where Daros had stood before. The rest of the day was spent in long drills and hard sparring. Robb was thrown into the fray without a moment's hesitation, forced to fend for himself against two to three opponents at a time, all of them desperate to score a strike to gain the favor of the pit master. With each blow, he felt the sting of pain, but he refused to back down. He fought with a determination born of desperation, fueled by the burning desire for freedom that smoldered deep within his soul. Hours passed in a blur as Robb trained tirelessly under the scorching sun. His muscles ached, and his body screamed for rest, but he pushed himself to the brink of exhaustion and beyond.
He knew that only by becoming stronger could he hope to survive in this cruel and unforgiving world. As the day wore on, Robb found himself falling into a rhythm, his movements becoming more fluid and precise with each passing moment. He began to anticipate his opponents' attacks, countering with skill and finesse. By the time the sun began to dip below the horizon, Robb was panting and covered in sweat, The pit master finally called out, "HALT!" The men immediately stopped, groaning in pain and drenched in sweat. "Report to the kitchens for rations and return to your cells."
The men turned to leave the yard, flanked by guards, many of them clutching shoulders or rubbing sores all over their bodies. Robb turned to follow before he heard a voice call out behind him. "Looks like we'll be getting a quick return on you boy." Robb turned to see the pit master laughing at him in a mocking tone. Robb replied boldly, "Good, I'll be glad to be rid of this accursed place as soon as I can." The pit master looked at him incredulously, never having been spoken to in this manner before, "You wait boy, when they cover you in spices and send you into the pits nude to be ripped apart by starved bears all for their amusement, then you'll scream and beg to be back here."
Robb looked at him stoically, "So be it, better dead than in bondage here being ordered around by the likes of men like you." The slaver just laughed and beckoned for the men to take Robb away. Robb was given gruel and water and then sent to his cell. He collapsed exhausted and sleep came to him quickly. The gods had mercy on Robb and he did not have any dreams that haunted him that night. Robb got to sleep the next morning as no guards came to get him for training.
He woke up on his own and spent the rest of his morning pacing around his small cell, bouncing pebbles against the iron rails, and craning his neck to see if any guards were around the corner. Eventually, Robb heard footsteps approach the cell and saw guards along with the familiar face of the pitmaster enter. The man was smiling, "You got your wish boy, you're going to Meeren to be sold to the highest bidder. Congratulations, you'll be lucky if you survive two months." Robb was in good spirits despite the slavers' tone and ignored his words, choosing not to respond to the taunt. "Excellent, when do I leave?"
The pit master gestured for Robb to leave the cell, "Now. the ship leaves at midday." He then gestured to the guards, "I don't want him trying anything, put a sack over his head." They nodded and Robb soon found himself blindfolded, reliant completely on the guards for guidance. He heard gates open as he walked and soon heard the sounds of the town of Mantarys once again. He felt his feet rattle against the cobble as he continued through with the occasional twist and turn on his shoulders by the hands of the guards. He started to hear the waves and then was led up a plank onto a ship. Robb could smell the salt in the air as he was led onto the ship, the sounds of the bustling port slowly fading away. He felt the sway of the vessel beneath his feet, a sensation that was both unfamiliar and unsettling.
Despite the blindfold, he could sense the vastness of the sea around him, stretching out endlessly in all directions. He felt it taken off, and as his eyes adjusted to the sunlight, Robb found himself standing on the deck of the ship, surrounded by sailors bustling about their duties. Robb looked around, confused as to why the guards had walked away, unconcerned with Robb as the ship began to leave the port. One of them noticed Robb's confusion and said, "Where would you go, the depths?" He said, motioning the open ocean. "Enjoy your last bit of freedom", the guard turned away.
The salty breeze brushed against his skin, carrying with it a sense of both freedom and uncertainty. Robb took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves as he glanced around, taking in the sights and sounds of the ship. He watched as the crew worked with practiced efficiency, their movements synchronized as they prepared for the journey ahead. Despite the daunting prospect of what awaited him in Meereen, Robb couldn't help but feel a flicker of excitement at the thought of setting sail across the open sea. It was a new chapter in his life, one filled with unknown challenges and opportunities.
As the ship began to pull away from the dock, Robb stood at the railing, gazing out at the horizon with a mixture of apprehension and determination. He knew that the road ahead would not be easy, but he was ready to face whatever obstacles came his way. With each passing moment, the distant shores of Mantarys faded into the distance, replaced by the vast expanse of the ocean stretching out before him.Robb was determined to seize control of his own destiny, to carve out a path for himself in a world that sought to keep him chained and bound. And as the ship sailed ever onward, carrying him towards an uncertain fate, Robb stood tall, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead with courage and resilience.
Authors Note: Hey guys, its been a while since I wrote and honestly this was the hardest chapter to write simply due to the fact that there weren't a whole lot of characters that I could introduce that would have been good to develop. This was a internal chapter for Robb to continue to evolve into the character I envision him to be at the end of the novel. Expect this to be the last slow chapter as the next will be full of action as well as familiar characters I think you'll enjoy!