A Drifter’s Story — CH1, Little Aloand Sothim

So.

It has come to my attention that there has been an air of confusion around the… details of my good friend Yours Truly. Fret not, dear children, for your good friend Not Yours Truly will give all the clarification you need.

It all starts in Ilyri, a city on a hill. Well, by “hill”, I really mean “dune”—it’s in the desert. City on a dune. Actually, it’s more of a kingdom on a dune, but I digress. Anyways! In this kingdom on— queendom, maybe? I don’t think the place has ever had a king. It’s a lot newer than some of the other— Semantics! In this queendom on a hill, there— or dune, sorry— queendom on a dune, there is a beautiful pharaoh named Esmerelda. Yes, that’s her real name. Totally not lying. And alongside Esmerelda is her faithful companion, the Anubis… Eesmerelda.

Of course that’s a real name! I knew a girl west named Eesmerelda. Not this one, though; some other completely real person.

So, Esmerelda and Eesmerelda, along with their significant… -ly irrelevant court, ruled over the Queendom on a Dune with grace, benevolence, and some other synonym. Nothing but fat wallets, fat bellies, and fat egos under Queen Esmerelda’s rule. Everybody got a piece of the prosperity.

Except for the slaves, naturally. Oh, didn’t you know? Slavery is a really big crowd-pleaser down in the sands. Many an unsuspecting traveler get either swindled into debts and indentured servitude or just clapped in irons on the spot. May as well be the place’s biggest export. Turns out that aforementioned “grace and benevolence” doesn’t really extend to the people forced to live in the Queendom. Save for a few lucky souls that get picked up by the odd lonely or bored monster down in the markets. Like our good friend Yours Truly.

That’s where the story begins.


***


“Wake up!”

I rise with a startled jump. “Wuh?” Is the only thing I can muster from my groggy semi-asleep brain. I have absolutely no idea where I am, nor do I know why I’m half-naked and clapped in irons.

“Wake up, boy; unless you want another beating!”

There’s some sweaty old guy yelling at me, just as naked as I am. I don’t remember getting any beatings before, though. No clue what he’s talking about. That is, until I hear the angry hissing of lamias. That instantly gets me to my feet. “Where the hell am I,” I stutter. “And who are you?”

The man’s immediate response to my question is to slap me over the head for my uncouth vocabulary. He never tells me his name; he just laughs at me. But it wasn’t until he slapped me that I heard the rest of the voices: Boisterous feminine voices and fearful, confused masculine voices. An unsettling cacophony of “Why are you doing this”s and “You’ll be mine soon”s, all set against a juxtaposing band of lighthearted drums, flutes, and songs.

A couple of days ago, I would’ve loved to be down in the market. Now… not so much.

Wait a second. I remember now! This is the marketplace in Ilyri, the place I live.  Err, used to live, I guess, depending on who’s going to be taking me away. I must be a slave now, given the loincloth and iron chains. I’ve got a clean record, though! I’ve never done anything outside of the law. Nothing they can prove me guilty of, anyway.

They must’ve gotten me on charges of lollygagging. It was absolutely bogus if it was; people stand around in the streets all the time! I’ve seen it happen to a lot of my friends, just getting dragged off for the vaguest of infractions simply because they didn’t have a ring on their finger. They were single men in a monster’s kingdom, after all. They— I —was a living paradox. But oh, did the law enforcement straighten that out…

My bout of recollection was cut short by the rattle of a realmsilver baton against the realmsilver cage I was in, which also led me to realize that I was, in fact, in a cage. “Out!” one of the ophidian guardswomen barks—hisses? And so we hop out, single-file. And it’s not until my feet make contact with the blazing sand that the reality of my situation hits me: I really am a slave now. In the absolute worst working environment possible.

No time to cry over my unjust loss of human rights, though; that snake lady is yelling at us to march again. One foot in front of the other, these goons and I waddle our way through the streets of Ilyri, exposed fully to the leers and jeers of horny, lonely monster girls. In any other case, I would’ve loved to be acknowledged by so many pretty girls at once. Right now? I could do without it.

The chain gang finally stops after what seems like a millennium of spicy-footed treading. My Lord, it really was hot. I can’t see it on account of my spot at the tail end of the chain and sweat-drenched brow, but it looked like our final destination was an elaborately designed stage, absolutely bursting with colors and the most beautiful fabrics of the desert, all neatly topped with the word “SLAVES” in bold calligraphy hanging above. These freaks really care about their slaves it seems. Which makes sense, given how most of them are just future husbands.

“First three, on the stage! The rest of you: Behind!” And with that, the auction officially begins. The first three unlucky men do as they’re told and make their way onto the stage. While the crowd isn’t very large in the beginning—not that I can actually see that from behind a wooden stage—the rest of the bachelorettes fall in after the blowing of a horn by somebody with notably strong lungs. I mean, wow; that thing went on for a while.

The now deafening sound of a lustful crowd of lonely nobodies rang on for a few minutes before one voice louder than the rest called for silence. She rattles on about how she’s oh so happy that everybody showed so much interest in what may as well be an opium market—I really don’t care about what she says. Why does her voice sound so familiar?

I comb my brain for any piece of information that may be linked to the feminine voice absolutely oozing with disingenuous gratitude, but I really can’t tell who it may be. Hell, I can’t even remember how I woke up on the floor of a sun-baking cage surrounded by four-and-twenty sweaty brown guys.

Just when I think I have a name for this vaguely familiar swine, it’s violently jerked away from my by the violent jerking of a chain.

“Move along!” says the pretty lady. I guess my daydreaming distracted me from the shortening line in front of me. Not wanting to feel the realmsilver baton either of these lamias were packing, I hastily shimmy my way to a set of stairs leading to the top of the really good-looking stage. I come face-to-face with…

Her.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” She shouts, still drenched in two-faced glee. “I am afraid we have come to our final suite of bachelors. But as you can see, we have certainly saved the best for last!” That last line was met with a roar of abject approval. I don’t care.

I know who this woman is: She’s a Tanuki, like I guessed. A slimy, scheming little snake with skin like tree bark and a smile like cheese who goes by the name of Zhuri. She runs the bazaar my friends and I used to meet up in. I was on a bit of a personal mission to expose her for her involvement in their arrests. I only had a suspicion for the longest time, but it wasn’t until recently—say, two or three days—that I actually had solid proof of her misdeeds! I went to the authorities with it, and… well, I assume we’re seeing the end result of that now. Turns out that corruption moves a lot farther up the chain of command than I thought.

That vile, bushy-tailed witch gives me a wink and an ear-to-ear, perfect-toothed grin. “Now, for this fine specimen here, we will start our bidding at… oh, say fifteen-thousand!” Wow. There’s absolutely no way somebody would pay that much for some lanky hooligan like m—

“Sixteen thousand!”

Huh. Nevermind.

Sixteen thousand from a Hellhound that I think was either just bluffing, didn’t know how bidding worked, or actually had the money (the least likely option) was immediately challenged by seventeen, then eighteen, then twenty, then thirty, then fifty thousand from a freakishly intimidating, albeit attractive, Dragon! WHY was I never alerted to the fact that I was worth this much?

“Fifty thousand gold pieces for little Aloand Sothim!” I am anything but little, thank you very much. “Going once..!”

As I said silent prayers of protection against the libido of my new master, and revenge against the dreaded Zhuri, I couldn’t help but notice a hand—well, paw—go up in the background of drooling mouths and trembling faces. If a new hand is going up, then by some supernatural means she has more gold on her than a Dragon.

“Going twice..!”

 Come on, lady, say something! Speak up; say anything! Please, for the love of any and all things holy, make yourself known!

“One hundred thousand.”

I felt a chill go down my spine at the number. Not because it was unbelievably massive—which it was—but because that voice… that unfathomable voice… came from somebody blessed by the gods themselves. I doubt it was whoever that timid, furry black paw belongs to. So who..?

“Well, well, well! It appears our benevolent ruler, Sun Queen Benezia, has finally decided to grace us common folk with her presence!”

As hard to believe as it is, Zhuri wasn’t lying this time. Our most beautiful ruler, flawless in all aspects and mighty in all fields, standing proudly adorned in the finest silks and gaudiest jewelry, the Pharaoh Benezia was bidding for me. Me! Of all people to receive royal recognition, right? Today is just getting better and better.

“Well it certainly wasn’t my idea,” clarified Benezia. Ouch. “This one here was interested in… whatever that is.” As if on cue, the crowd split itself to put the center of attention on “this one here”: An Anubis. Nothing really significant about her; just some short, spindly thing with an ankh staff of gold and, apparently, a queen in her pocket.

The Anubis straightens her posture and puts on the most forced expression of authority I have ever seen. “Y-Yes, me! One hundred thousand for Aloand Sothim.” I should be so lucky, becoming the collar-bound boytoy of the royal pushover. Absolutely nobody challenges her offer out of what I’m assuming is one-part fear of opposing the Queen, and one-part the blatant inability to raise on a one hundred thousand gold bid.

Of course, while everybody is frowning at the inevitable uninterrupted countdown to defeat, Zhuri is wearing a greedy smile even wider than before. Lord, I wish she would just split her face with that grimace already! “O… Okay then! One hundred thousand gold pieces indeed! Going once! Going twice!”

And so begins my new life as the footstool of the footstool.

I can tell the crowd really wants to boo at this turn of events, but once again they’re all too scared to say—or even do—anything. Those same lamias come upstage with dumbfounded faces behind their veils. Remembering just how shiny and scary those batons looked, I allow myself to be hoisted down to my new master, through the angry, silent mob. Some of the girls tried to sneak gropes at me for just a taste of my royalty-worthy flesh, but are promptly beaten back by my escorts. With the grace of an eagle, my escorts throw me onto my knees in front of two fluffy paws.

“Oh, come now; that will not be necessary,” Benezia says with that same familiar, matronly tone.
“We are capable of bringing him with us, thank you.”

“Are you certain, your grace? Zhuri tells us that this one is particularly quarrelsome.” Of course she did.

“I am certain. You are appreciated for your concern.” With all the grace in the world and more, Benezia gives a regal nod to her guardswomen, who reply with half-rehearsed, stumbling bows of their own.

Just as soon as I feel like it’s a good time to look up, I feel a sudden heavy weight around my neck and a subsequent clicking sound. Immediately, my hand shoots up to my throat to see what it is I’m being slapped into, and it’s smooth. Completely devoid of texture; just a circular, golden bracelet. What was that clicking sound, then?

“Y-You,” stammered the voice attached to the legs I was in front of. “You’re mine now. D-Do as I say, and y-you will be handsomely rewarded.” She’s really not too good at this whole “being royalty” thing, is she? Who knows, she may just be new; I won’t hold it against her. I give her my most feeble and subservient “Yes ma’am” possible and stand to my feet, still sure to stare at the ground like a lost child.

Great Queen Benezia so grandly announces that we’re leaving, and I feel a tug at my new collar. Which is odd, because I definitely didn’t feel any sort of link attached to— you know what? It’s probably just magic. I am too hot and too tired to commit brainpower to figuring this out. Our party of three wave their goodbyes to the crowd of star struck bidders and turned to make their way back to the crown jewel of our cozy little community, the Sol Victorious.

Maybe being a slave won’t be so bad after all, you know? I’m sure that at least being this close to royalty has to be better than whatever hole I was almost dragged into. Or I could be completely wrong and promptly have my words force fed to me with some indescribably horrible task. Only one way to find out now, I suppose.