1st of Searing, 120
It was perhaps one of the best regions Khaori and his captors had set foot in so far—Lyonesse, a land that portraits in his homeland were most likely inspired by the most. It had great features and splashes of different colors, he had to admit, that are most pleasing to the eyes. The fae had always been a true admirer of nature’s beauty and although he thought of the entire existence of Daravin itself as horse manure, he had to give credit where it’s due…quietly. The pleasing sight of what the gods have blessed the region with did not last long though. It was not long before Khaori and the other slaves met the true side of Daravin. Even as a slave, shackled and caked with filth, Khaori could not compare to the ghettos he was beginning to pass by on their way to the capitol.
The outskirts of Duran reeked of poverty and disease, something both new and scary to the fae. His gaze met the pleading eyes of multiple men, women, and children causing him to press himself against the horse-drawn wagon he was tied to out of fear. A million and one thoughts ran through his head as he stared at the misery in horror. The only thought he could really grasp is the one wondering if these were the conditions most slaves lived in. If so, Khaori would have to reconsider his plan of remaining quiet on his identity. He isn’t equipped for that sort of lifestyle.
“Oy! What’s the matta, princess?”
The wagon had come to a stop. Khaori gritted his teeth and shot a glare at the person driving it; his tormentor. Half of the slaves both on and off the wagon should be grateful to the fae—the slaver’s eyes (amongst other things) were constantly on him. It did not matter the emotion, the middle-aged Siltori slaver felt the need to always take it out on him. Even now, the Siltori was in a really great mood, however, Khaori knew what was coming next.
“You think you too good for these people?” The slaver hopped off the wagon, speaking loud enough for everyone to hear him. He definitely caught a few people’s attention and Khaori did not have to look at the people to know they were upset. He could hear the mutters.
The fae refused to answer the man. Keeping his head low, Khaori just watched his shadow creep closer and closer to him until finally, he could feel his breath on the back of his neck. The Siltori smelled of alcohol and some sort of tar—he didn’t exactly understand where that smell was coming from. Eventually, the slaver placed his hands on the branches of cherry blossoms poking out Khaori’s sleeves, causing him to flinch. Khaori did not know what to expect next yet he prayed the slaver wouldn’t do anything in broad daylight.
“You think you betta than me too? Don’t you?” The slaver’s grip around Khaori’s shoulders grew tighter, he could feel the anger seeping out the man and into his own flesh.“You think because you dress pretty and live come from Auris, you betta than me?” The Siltori’s hands raised to his neck and suddenly, the fae was being choked. He could feel his throat close up a bit, the pressure would soon break his windpipes if something wasn’t done soon. Is this how he dies? A part of him hoped so, he wasn’t meant to be a slave and he refused at this point.
“Aye! What the hell you doin’ Don?”
The Siltori let go immediately once he heard his partner calling for him, a mixed-blood on a bronco that could hardly hold still. The two were similar in appearance, Khaori could only assume they were brothers.
“You can’t seem to leave that damn thing alone.” The mixed blood hopped off the horse and immediately came between the fae and other slaver. He stared the other man down before untying Khaori, holding on to his chains while addressing his brother again.“I’m gonna take the damned boy with me. You’ve had your fun, but I can’t have you goin’ around killin’ p— oof!”
In the time it took the slaver to address the other, Khaori whipped the man with his chains. The pain gave him no other choice but to let the noble loose, giving Khaori a few seconds to collect as much as he could of his own shackles and run in the opposite direction while the two were still stunned. He took off, making it only a couple of feet outside the ghetto. Khaori was too busy looking back that he eventually ran into someone. Someone much larger than himself.
