PreCursive
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Chapter 64 - Ill-Fated Reunion
🕑 Added 2023-08-04 17:00:08 +0000 UTC“Mr. Hart? M-Mr. Hart, can you hear me?”
Slowly, I started to drift back to consciousness, aware that someone was calling my name. They were lightly shaking my shoulders as well. For a moment, I didn’t know what was going on. I hadn’t even opened my eyes yet, and my head was throbbing. I couldn’t think straight.
As if from far away, I heard another voice. “Move, boy.” A more masculine voice said. Shortly, I began to be shaken more roughly, stirring me back to consciousness more effectively. “Get up, Nate. You can’t afford to be out right now.”
I cracked my eyes open gradually, only seeing blurs for a moment. When my eyes finished focusing, I found that a rough-looking Bleddyn was hovering over me, hands on my shoulders. Fretfully hovering behind him was another familiar face. One I hadn’t seen in weeks.
It was Walter, the young slave that had taught me Wildshaping all those weeks ago.
I blinked slowly at them, my brain rebooting. Abruptly, I remembered what had happened to me, eyes widening. I’d been violently knocked out by a group of guards, and presumably captured by them. I jerked upright, nearly slamming my head into Bleddyn and whipping my own around in a circle wildly. The sudden movement made me surprisingly nauseous, nearly sending me back down to the floor, if not for the grip Bleddyn still had on my shoulders.
“Easy there, Nate,” Bleddyn said soothingly. “You took a hard blow to the head. I wish you could just stay out to recover, but we’re kinda buggered right now.”
I blinked up at him, strangely doing so one eye at a time. “What,” I croaked out, before clearing my throat. “What happened? What’s going on?”
Bleddyn shook his head, hands still on my shoulders. “I don’t know. Nobody here does.”
At his words, I took another around. I was in what looked to be a hastily constructed tent. It wasn’t very big, leaving everyone that was inside of it fairly cramped. Other than Bleddyn, Walter and I, there were five other slaves inside the tent for a total of eight people. The other five slaves were scattered away from us, all male and all of them watching everyone else with distrustful eyes.
I slowly stood up, aware of a sticky sensation on my face. Touching it and looking at my hand, I found that it was blood. I grimaced and looked back at Bleddyn. “How bad does it look?”
“Could be worse,” Bleddyn said doubtfully. “Bone didn’t look cracked before it healed a little.” Implying that bone had been visible at one time. Shit. And from the woozy sensation I was feeling, I had to wonder if I might have another goddamn concussion.
I took a deep breath before attempting to smile at Walter, who was still hovering next to us and wringing his hands. “Walter,” I said, trying to project confidence into my voice. “It’s good to see you again. I wish it were under better circumstances.”
Walter gave me a terrified, wobbly smile in return. “I-it’s good to see y-you too, Mr. Hart.” He managed to stutter out.
I tried to give him a reassuring smile. From the look on his face, I’m not sure it worked. Turning back to Bleddyn and leaning in, I kept my voice as low as I could, aware of all the eyes that were on us. “Is it another hunt?”
Bleddyn leaned in and shook his head minutely. “Don’t think so,” He muttered to me. “This is too big a production for one of those. Been hearing too many people outside, too much being moved about. We got guards stationed outside watching us, as well. Last time I tried to look out the tent, I nearly got a fist to the face.”
I snorted softly. “You already look like you got one of those.” Bleddyn had a large, purplish-black eye developing over his right one.
He smiled grimly in return. “Well, when they came for me, I didn’t go without a fight.” I matched his smile with a low, short laugh before falling silent for a moment.
“Then Magnus has cooked up some fresh new hell to put slaves through, then,” I murmured somberly. I must not have been speaking as quietly as I thought, because one of the slaves in the tent let out a low moan of despair at my words.
“Probably,” Bleddyn snorted softly. “I wouldn’t put it past the fucker.”
Our conversation was interrupted by a guard abruptly storming into the tent with a smirk on his face. His entrance caused the other slaves in the tent to scramble as far away from him as they could, huddling together. Walter somewhat emulated them, hiding behind Bleddyn and I. The two of us turned to face the guard, Bleddyn with a sneer and myself with a frown.
The guard, the one that I think had tackled me earlier, didn’t seem to care. “Time to go, meat.” He said maliciously. “Out of the tent.” When nobody in the tent moved to follow his instructions, he narrowed his eyes at us and raised a gauntleted fist. “Now, unless you want to catch a wallopin’. And I guarantee you, you don’t want that right now.” At his threat, the five other slaves began to scramble out of the tent, streaming alongside the other slaves. The guards' eyes fell on the three of us, causing Bleddyn’s sneer to deepen. From what I’d learned of Bleddyn, he was probably gearing up for another fight.
I leaned into him again. “Not now,” I whispered in his ear. “We need to at least figure out what’s going on. And if I know Magnus, he’s got some kind of grand, self-fellating speech planned all about how clever his latest scheme is.” For a moment, I thought Bleddyn was going to ignore me, before he gave a slight, nearly indiscernible nod. I turned slightly to look over my shoulder at Walter and gave him a gesture to follow us.
As a group, the three of us walked out of the tent, Bleddyn never losing his sneer and making sure to retain eye contact with the guard as we passed him.
………………………………………
I was unsurprised when it turned out we were in the back clearing behind the manor. It seemed like this was where Magnus did his dirty work.
Well, most of it. My hand tried to reach up and cup my burn scar, but I forced it down.
The clearing had been transformed, though. The tent that we had exited was a ramshackle-looking thing, situated along the wall and out of the way. Least of the changes, it seemed like someone, most likely a slave, had come through and cut the grass lower in order to make it look more presentable. They hadn’t done much for patches of blood or burnt grass that I knew came from the deaths of unfortunate slaves, though. The mobile pavilion was back as well, but that didn’t catch my eye much. I was used to the sight of it. More importantly, though, Bleddyn had been right.
It looked like the entire town was out here. Including the guards, which were scattered throughout the clearing.
Arranged on either side and slightly behind the pavilion were tons of chairs and benches that were surrounded by chattering dwarves. Behind the accommodations and on the other side of the gate from us, I saw what looked like a few tables of food and drinks. There were rows of seating stretching out in a semi-circle as if they were pointed in a certain direction. Looking around, I found what they were facing. It looked like a large circle made of stones positioned in the center of the clearing.
The sight of it gave me a bad feeling.
I didn’t get to inspect my surroundings for long though, as my attention was stolen by the sound of a bell ringing. Snapping my head in the direction of the noise, I found a familiar sight. Pignolo, the cruel dwarven servant from the manor, was standing out in front of the pavilion ringing a bell. The chatter and conversation of the gathered dwarves began to die down, with them directing their eyes to Mr. Piggy.
“Good citizens of Addersfield!” He called out, once he had their attention. “I present to you, Lord Magnus, Heir of House Savoy!”
At his words, the gates to the right of our group began to open up. Out of them strode Magnus, dressed in the most opulent set of green and gold robes I’d seen on him. Accompanying him was a team of four Addersfield guards, with Stonebreaker following along behind the group. Even though I couldn’t see his face, the knight still looked visibly displeased from his body language alone.
At the sight of Magnus, the crowd began to clap politely. Magnus strutted from the gate like I’d never seen before, plainly enjoying the attention. He quickly ascended the back steps of the pavilion and turned around to address the crowd, raising a hand in the process. The applause died down quickly. Magnus smiled insincerely at the gathered dwarves.
“My friends,” He said, trying his hardest to project his voice across the clearing. “Thank you for gathering here today for my little soiree. Lately, I’ve been finding myself terribly bored, and why wouldn’t I? There’s simply so little to amuse oneself with in this,” He paused, before continuing. “Charming little town. Why, lately I’ve grown dissatisfied with my usual method of entertainment!”
You mean, when you regularly feed hapless slaves to bloodthirsty monsters?
“And If I, with all of my privileges have been so discontent of late, I can only imagine how you feel!” At his words, the crowd began murmuring among themselves. From my position, I could see that a number of them looked confused. “So, I’ve decided to put on a little show for the both of us.” His fake smile became very real and very cruel. “Some good old-fashioned blood sport.”
The crowd grew deathly quiet.
Magnus turned his eyes to us, the group of slaves practically hiding in the corner. Even from this distance, I could see the malicious glee in them. With his right hand, he gestured to us in a sweeping motion, causing every eye in the clearing to fall on us. I stiffened. In fact, most of us excluding Bleddyn froze in some way. He just glared back.
“Huddling in the corner like rats on a sinking ship are the stars of today’s entertainment!” Magnus grandstanded. “Gathered are the refuse and the malcontents of Addersfield’s slave population! This lot are the weak, the sickly, the too young and too old, and finally the belligerent!” I cast an eye at the other slaves. I guess that guy did look a little sick, and those guys looked a bit on in their years. Walter could be the young, and Bleddyn was definitely the belligerent.
Wait. Did that make me the weak?
“Today, these eight slaves will compete for our amusement! In a series of duels!” Magnus continued, waving Pignolo over to his position. He hurried up to his master's position, carrying a wooden case of some kind. At a gesture from Magnus, Pignolo opened the case and showed its contents to the crowd. I wasn’t able to see whatever it was from my position. “With these kitchen knives! Using these…fine instruments, these repulsive slaves shall battle to prove that they’re worthy of a second chance. For you see, I’m not completely without mercy.” He said, smiling maliciously in our direction.
Yes you are, you sick son of a bitch.
“The winner of this little tourney shall go on to become one of the Overseers.” Magnus continued, causing the other five slaves that I didn’t know in our group to perk up and start paying rapt attention. “Three square meals a day, a reduced workload, and your own room within the Overseer’s quarters. That sounds quite fair, does it not?”
The clearing was silent, except for an awkward cough from the gathered dwarven crowd.
Magnus suddenly frowned. “I said, aren’t I being fair?” He asked menacingly.
That caused the crowd to speak up.
“Of course, Lord Magnus!”
“You’re the very spirit of generosity, My Lord!”
I tried not to be disgusted with the crowd, but it was hard.
Magnus switched back to his insincere smile. “As I thought. As for the rules of the tourney, the cattle do not need to kill each other. A sufficiently disabling wound with suffice. For now.” He said, amending himself at the last moment. “As for you, my loyal subjects, you may avail yourself of the provided delectables during the intermissions. For now, be seated. We have a first bout to get to, don’t we? Guards, gather the cattle and distribute the cutlery.”
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