Slave Trade - Lord Levid's Games
Slave Trade Lord Levid's Games
copyright 2012 comidacomida
The holding room provided to Lord Hector's slaves struck Sidney as solid, secure, and more-than-
a-little-too-much like the pits used by the hyena slavers he knew far too well. The stone blocks
that made up the walls and ceiling of the relatively large room were also present on the floor,
but the ground was covered with a thin layer of dirt likewise covered with a thin layer of hay.
There was no furniture in the room and the only other objects present were two large troughs; one
was filled with clean water and the other was etched and tarnished with hastily cleaned bodily
excretions. Uraou snorted as he examined the 'privy', "Hmm... maybe this's why Gladiatas aren't
a'feared of death."
"Slaves get what they be given, Uraou, even if they be gladiators." Dorias offered pragmatically,
"An' I wouldn't expect fer a Lord t'offer anything special to someone else's slaves."
Choel rotated his ears, "Not like we'll be here long anyway." and he motioned toward the
rightmost wall, "Sounds like the festival is starting."
Sidney perked his ears and focused on the faint sound the tiger had indicated. Concentrating, he
could make out the sounds of an almost unheard of number of voices calling and shouting. "Lord
Hector said we would have two hours to prepare..." he glanced back to Dorias, "It hasn't been
four hours."
"Aye, Sir." the yak nodded, "Twenty minutes at th' most..."
The fox's fur puffed out as he considered the possibility that the time was rapidly approaching,
"Everyone, get ready..." he glanced to Dorias, "Dorias, tell Maern to get ready." Sidney didn't
wait to hear the command translated as he started pacing.
All around him, the slaves in his care began to ready themselves. They checked one another's
harnesses and took turns at the water trough getting a drink. Uraou checked over Choel's
shoulders, which seemed, in all general sense to have fully healed, in no small part, based on
Sidney's observations, due to the Sardassi's strange effect on the tiger. Dorias and Maern
shared several words, and after that... they waited... and waited... and waited... the fox never
stopped pacing.
Sidney focused his attention off in the distance to the countless voices screaming, shouting,
laughing, and hollering, and yet, at no point was there any indication that someone was coming
down the long stone hallway to open their door. He was beyond confused, having stopped trying to
understand the events around him, keeping his ears open instead for any sign that he and his
slaves were anything other than forgotten.
Just as the fox was starting to feel the relief that perhaps there wasn't going to be any
activity for them the resounding echo of a door opening out in the main hallway dashed his
thoughts to pieces, "I'm afraid there must be some mistake, your highness." it was Lord Hector,
but the tone of his voice sounded all wrong, "Your letter said four o clock." the stag almost
sounded... subservient.
"If there is any mistake, my dear Lord Hector, then it is your own, I am sure." the voice
countering Sidney's Master's held a refined tone to it... one that somehow made Lord Hector's
beautifully perfect words seem almost brutish in comparison. "You are not suggesting that I do
not know the schedule for my own events, are you?" each word was a perfectly shaped piece of art,
but not in a way that the fox found beautiful; it felt almost as if the speaker were spitting in
his master's face with each word.
"Of course not, your highness." Sidney could hear the self-restraint in the stag's voice, and, at
that moment, the fox truly began to worry.
"Very well," acknowledged the other voice, "Then collect your gladiators, and I shall expect for
you to select one to help us close up our evening with the final bout of the night." and the fox
tracked the sound of careful, measured pacing disappearing back down the hall.
"Yes, your Highness." the acknowledgment bordered on a growl, and Lord Hector raised his voice
but kept his tone neutral, "Open the door, guards... these are my slaves, not prisoners."
"Yes, Lord Hector." two voices acknowledged in unison, and Sidney stood up when the sound of
metal-on-metal indicated that their storage room door was indeed opening.
Although the fox was overjoyed to see his master, the grave expression on the stag's muzzle was
not very reassuring, and Lord Hector wasted no time mincing words, "Only one of you is fighting
tonight."
"Just one?" snorted Uraou, glancing at Sidney, "How are we supposed to show what we--"
The stag continued speaking over the bear, "It's a fight to the death." Uraou fell silent
immediately.
* * * * * *
It was several minutes before Lord Hector said anything further. He had the slaves up and
moving, leading them down the hall with two of Lord Levid's armed guards following several steps
behind them. Sidney realized that his Master was being generous with his time in providing them
the opportunity to absorb what he had said, but the fox reasoned that no possible amount of time
could be enough for him-- one of the slaves in his care would either kill or be killed that very
night. What was originally a major concern over one of his charges being beaten bloody suddenly
took on an even more threatening tone.
When the stag finally spoke again it was directly to him, but he didn't bother looking his way,
"Sidney...?"
"Yes, Master?" the fox inquired immediately.
"Do you know why we're here?"
"Because you were asked to present your Gladiators before Lord Levid during the festival,
Master." Sidney responded in a matter-of-fact tone.
"And do you know why Lord Levid wanted me to present my Gladiators tonight?" Lord Hector
inquired, eyes still watching the pathway in front of him as he walked.
The fox went to open his muzzle, then faltered; it was not his place to assume why a Lord would
do anything, "No, Master." he admitted.
The stag nodded quietly, remaining silent for numerous steps. The guards tailing them took a
side turn, leaving the Lord alone with his slaves, "I have told you that Lord Levid believes I am
too soft on my slaves, have I not?"
"You have, Master." Sidney acknowledged.
"Lord Levid believes that having Gladiators will bring things into perspective for me." Lord
Hector stated, "He believes that having slaves fight and die at my command will help me realize
how important I am and how unimportant slaves are." he glanced out of the corner of his eye at
the fox, "Do you understand?"
"I..." Sidney paused, "...no, Master."
Lord Hector smiled ever-so-faintly, coming to a stop; Sidney stopped as well. "Good." the stag
sighed, resting a hand on the fox's head between his ears and ruffling up his fur, "Neither do
I." and he continued walking, adding, "You may speak freely, Sidney."
The fox glanced back at the slaves following the two of them, all eyes on both him and the stag,
except for Maern, who was focused wholly on the path ahead. Sidney looked back to Lord Hector,
who was apparently seeking out the same point on the horizon as the stallion, "Master... didn't
Lord Levid say that this was only going to be a trial match? An... exh... exhib..... ex--"
"Exhibition, yes." Lord Hector confirmed, "And now he's told me that my slaves were late to the
showing, so he's going to use one of my Gladiators in the first match of the season to 'whet
everyone's appetite' for the games." his voice held a strong tone of distaste.
"Why must you do as he tells you, Master?" the fox inquired plaintively, "You are a Lord."
"As I told you before, Sidney: just like Slaves, Lords have our own sets of rules, and we, like
Slaves, have those to whom we must answer."
"Sir," Dorias spoke up respectfully from behind the fox, "Lord Levid be Pross' king."
Sidney paused at the strange word, glancing back to the yak, "King?"
"Yes, Sidney... a King." Lord Hector acknowledged, "He is my Lord as I am yours."
"And so you do as he commands." the fox acknowledged, suddenly feeling his heart fall into the
pit of his stomach; no matter how much he wanted to believe there was no power higher than Lord
Hector, that was not a delusion he had the luxury of holding onto.
"Yes." the stag acknowledged, "And so you must choose one of your Gladiators to fight tonight."
he directed.
"Yes, Mast--" Sidney began without thinking, and then stood aghast as the words actually caught
up in his muzzle, "Me, Master?" his brain locked up and he froze, realizing that, not only had he
not accepted his Master's order, he actually challenged it.
"Yes, Sidney." Lord Hector acknowledged, the fox's oversight apparently not even registering with
the stag, "I put them in your care, so you will decide who faces an opponent tonight."
"Yes, Master." Sidney did a far better job of accepting the task when he was given the chance to
repeat himself.
"Bring everyone else up to the stadium box." the stag explained neutrally, motioning to a side
passage, "I will be waiting there."
"Yes, Master." the fox confirmed, still numb with the weight of the decision thrust upon him.
"Direct your chosen fighter and send him down this hall, then come join me." Lord Hector
maintained his neutral tone.
"I will, Master." Sidney acknowledged.
The stag took several steps, then paused, "And Sidney?" he asked, facing toward the hallway and
not the fox.
"Yes, Master?"
"If your gladiator is successful, then I will praise your decision." the stag noted.
"Thank you, Master." Sidney accepted the words.
Lord Hector began to ascend the steps in the side hall, "And if your gladiator fails, I will not
fault you."
Sidney did not know how to respond to the comment, so he said what he knew he could, "Yes,
Master." He didn't want to consider anyone losing.
* * * * * *
The five of them had stood there for almost five minutes before someone spoke up; it was Choel,
"Well? We can't hide down here through the whole thing."
"Quiet." Dorias snorted, "This be a hard decision for any man t'make, let alone a new Slave
Master... if Sidney needs time we give 'im time."
Uraou slowly lowered himself to the ground and sat with his back against the wall, crossing his
legs and resting a paw on either knee, "Why's everyone worried? We're Gladiatas... this comes
with the job... we knew this might happen when we signed up."
"Yea," Choel acknowledged, "But none of us thought this kinda thing was happening tonight."
"Should it matter?" Dorias questioned with a snort, "This be Sidney's choice, not ours... an'
whatever 'e decides is what we do... that's 'ow this works-- Gladiator nor not, we do what we be
told t'do."
"I wish I could just tell someone to win." Sidney offered helplessly.
"Aye... you can." Uraou acknowledged with a grin, "Whetha we can or not, though, that's a
different matta' completely."
"So what do I do then?" the fox inquired.
"That's something none o' us can answer for ya, Sir..." Dorias explained, "This is a choice a
Slave Master's gotta make."
Sidney nodded, straightening up slightly, speaking plainly and with as much control to his tone
as he could muster, "Alright... who's willing to fight?"
Uraou stood up immediately and Choel was only a step behind him. Dorias translated for Maern and
then stepped forward, Maern doing the same once he understood what was asked. Sidney chewed on
the inside of his muzzle, berating himself for asking such an obvious question; they all wanted
to be Gladiators and they knew what failing to show it to Lord Hector could mean for them. The
fox realized he had to choose a different method, and that method came to him as he was brushing
the hay out of his fur.
"Alright." Sidney announced, his relief at the solution making the word come out a little louder
than he intended. His ears reddening, he nevertheless addressed his slaves, of whom he had their
entire attention. "I have four pieces of hay..." he explained, quickly evening them out in his
closed paw so four pieces stuck up out of his fist, "Whoever gets the longest piece is going to
fight tonight."
When none of the Gladiators objected, Sidney held his paw out, and let them reach forward and
draw one each. Maern, who had to look to the others for direction, received the fourth straw,
which also happened to be the shortest. The fox glanced to Dorias next, who likewise had a short
piece. Choel and Uraou compared their two pieces of straw and they met one another's gaze,
nodding, and the bear stepped forward, "Looks like I win." he grinned.
* * * * *
Practically panting from the sheer exertion required just to keep the appearance of calm, Sidney
parted ways with Uraou, providing a simple nod as he turned around and headed toward the stairs
that would take him to Lord Hector. Dorias and Choel wished the bear luck, and Maern, after
receiving a more indepth explanation from Dorias, said simply, "Min Sarul."
"Yea..." Uraou acknowledged, "Minsarel to you too."
Sidney let out one more sigh and continued up the stairs. He glanced back to Dorias and was just
about to open his muzzle, but the yak spoke first, "Min Sarul means 'With 'onor.'," he explained,
"It be like us wishin' someone good luck or fair fortune."
"Ah..." the fox acknowledged, "...okay." and he continued up the steps, playing over the possible
outcomes of the evening in his head: Uraou would be victorious and take another gladiator's life,
or he would lose, and die himself-- Sidney didn't particularly like any outcome. "Someone's
gonna die tonight, aren't they?" he asked of nobody in particular.
"Nay, Sir." the yak continued their conversation, "Just cause it's a fight t'th'death doesn't
mean someone'll die..."
"Then why call it a fight to the death?" asked Choel.
"It means someone CAN die." Dorias explained to them both, "In an exhibition match th' gladiators
fight until someone falls or fails t'continue fightin'. In a standard seasonal fight, a fallen
gladiator can be saved by Lord Levid if 'e isn't already dead."
"So..." Sidney stopped, turning to look back at the yak who, at several steps behind him, was
almost even height from eye-to-eye, "So it's possible nobody'll die?"
"Possible... aye." Dorias confirmed.
The fox was willing to grab at any scrap of hope; he hated the idea of death. "How does he
decide what gladiators live and which ones die?"
The yak shrugged in response, "I dunno, Sir."
"He doesn't seem very forgiving or generous to me." Choel offered, "But, then again, I only heard
him say a few words." the tiger's tail lashed behind him one direction then the other, "You'll
have to forgive Uraou for killing someone, Slave Master... it's what Gladiators have to do
sometimes."
"IF Uraou wins..." Sidney offered, swallowing the tightness in his throat. Was he sending the
bear to his death? The fox back toward the stairs to continue heading up them, not wanting to
let the slaves see the concern he could no longer hide.
A powerful grip took hold of the Slave Master's right bicep, completely engulfing it like a
shackle, and Maern slowly-but-firmly sounded out, "Uraou fite good." Sidney, who turned to look
at the stallion did all he could to keep the tears from his eyes, but the horse repeated, "Uraou
fite good." and released him. Sidney turned back to the stairs, and practically fled up them.
He emerged moments later into the late afternoon light that filtered down through the fabric-
covered open-air arena. The entire scene caused the fox to skid to a stop, struck dumb at the
immensity of the building. Sidney was situated most-of-the-way up the height of the arena and
the balcony where he stood was nearly forty feet off the ground.
The entire structure could easily have housed four of Lord Hector's homes placed two by two.
Although a good portion of that space was taken up by a battle ring that could have doubled as a
farmer's field considering it size, the majority of the space within the structure was actually
filled with tiered seating. The balcony where Sidney stood was mirrored several more times at
roughly the same height around the ring of stone benches the encircled the arena... and it
appeared that every last possible sitting space was occupied.
"Ah, Lord Hector..." Lord Levid's unmistakable tone emerged from behind a section of the balcony
cordoned off by purple curtains, "It sounds as though your Slave Master has finally joined us...
I trust that means that your fighter is finally ready."
Sidney's master was seated on a fine wooden chair on the near-side of the curtain, which meant
that he was likely side-by-side with Lord Levid. The stag glanced toward the fox, but didn't
maintain his gaze for long. Lord Hector looked back out into the arena, "Yes, your Highness...
the Slave Master and my three other Gladiators."
"Ah, my dear Lord Hector..." the voice beyond the curtain chuckled with harshly critical mirth,
"I'm afraid you praise your slaves far too much...." Sidney heard the unmistakable sound of a
drink being poured, "Your slaves are 'fighters'... they haven't yet earned the right to be called
'Gladiators'."
Sidney saw the unmistakable twitch of restrained anger on his master's face, but the stag was
beyond skilled with keeping the sound of it out of his voice, "As you say, your Highness. I
meant to say that the Slave Master and my three other fighters have arrived."
"Good." acknowledged Lord Levid from behind the curtain, "Send the fighters away... I don't want
them here on the balcony."
Sidney glanced to Lord Hector, who nodded in his direction. The fox then regarded Dorias, Choel,
and Maern, "Return to the holding pen." he directed as simply and as quietly as he could; the
last thing he realized he wanted was any of Lord Levid's attention.
Choel obediently about-faced and returned down the stairs. Dorias spoke quietly to Maern,
motioning back the way they had come, but the stallion lingered where he was for several seconds,
waiting until Sidney motioned for him to follow before actually leaving. The horse snorted
faintly, heading after the other two, but he looked back... twice.
When Sidney's attention returned to the balcony around him, he found that Lord Hector was being
firmly berated by Lord Levid, "Honestly, Hector... sometimes I wonder why you bother having
slaves at all..." the words were interrupted by a smooth sip of drink, "I know you have far more
promise than you choose to live up to, and far more reluctance to be a good slave owner than most
men with healthy minds."
"Thank you, your Highness." Lord Hector bowed his head.
Lord Levid's response caused Sidney's fur to stand on end, "I do not consider those traits to be
complimentary, Hector."
"I do," the stag responded, his voice pure and completely neutral, and he quickly added, "your
Highness."
The fox sank a little further away from the discussion on the stone bench provided for him. He
was not eager to hear the uncomfortable conversation continue, but he was also not particularly
thankful for the cheers that signaled the end of the match that had been being fought during the
exchange of words. Sidney's heart fell lower when he heard the booming voice of an announcer
introducing the final fight for the night: the first true fight of the season.
Uraou was introduced simply as "A slave bear from a newcomer to the gladiator circuit, Lord
Hector Desanti." The sound of his master's house name sent a little shiver up Sidney's spine; to
hear anything other than the stag's first name seemed almost like a dirty little thrill
manifested into reality. The announcement for the fighter opposing Uraou took that giddiness
away immediately.
"Last year's Champion, Veteran Gladiator bison of King Levid of Pross, Baron!" The announcer
spoke the gladiator's name as if everyone should have known who he was and, if the drowning roar
of the audience was any indication, apparently they did. The only sound louder than the screams
and cheers from the crowd, however, was a bestial, guttural war cry from far down below that
caused everyone to errupt into even louder shouts. Sidney thought his stomach would have fallen
out from the opening under his tail if it were physically possible, and it was all he could do to
avoid vomiting.
The rules of the fight were spoken clearly, that each gladiator was able to select from an
assortment of armor to attach to their harnesses, and that they could each select up to three
weapons with which to arm themselves. Once the fight began, they could use only those weapons
they selected, or one of their opponent's weapons if they managed to obtain it. The first
gladiator to die, surrender, or be rendered prone would be the loser. If the loser were still
alive, then King Levid would determine if the loser were worthy of continued life. Sidney had a
strong suspicion that the outcome of such a choice was often to the negative.
Despite trying to convince himself that it was a stupid decision, the fox moved to the edge of
the balcony for a better view. Without an objection forthcoming from Lord Hector, Sidney
repositioned himself so he could look down into the arena and watched as Uraou began to piece on
shoulder pieces, a set of bracers, and thigh guards. The bear then selected several metal plates
and hooked them onto the strap of leather that crossed his chest. Finally, Uraou chose a medium
sized metal shield. The fox then glanced to the other side of the arena where the Gladiator
named 'Baron' was preparing, and Sidney's jaw dropped.
Even from the great distance, Sidney could tell that Baron was enormous, even for a bison. The
fox estimated that Baron's biceps were easily larger then both of his own thighs put together,
and the mountain of muscle would have even dwarfed Maern. The Gladiator was selecting only a few
pieces of armor: a codpiece that could have been a helmet for Sidney, an entire set of
articulating plate armor for his right arm, and a shoulder plate of such immense size that could
have served as a breast plate for any normal slave. The bison finished off the armor with a
shield, which he strapped onto his head between his horns like a flat helmet.
Next came weapons, which worried Sidney all the more. Uraou grabbed a small axe, a large axe,
and a spear. Glancing over to Baron, the fox grit his teeth; all the bison took from the weapon
selection was a large metal rod with a thick, head-sized ball at the end. "Baron DOES love his
maces." Lord Levid chuckled from behind the curtain. Sidney felt the blood flow out of his face
as he realized that he wouldn't have been able to pick up the weapon, let alone wield it, but
Baron was holding it casually in a single, enormous hand.
The two stood on opposite sides of the arena, staring one another down. To Uraou's credit,
Sidney couldn't see a hint of fear in him, though the fox attributed most of that to the distance
between them. Before he could assess the situation any further, however, a loud metal gong
sounded and, on cue, both combatants raced toward one another.
If Sidney had thought that Baron's size would have hindered his speed, the fox was sorely
mistaken. The bison's long legs ate up the distance with amazing hunger, and the two fighters
met quite a distance from the center of the arena. As they came within range of one another,
Baron lowered his head, bringing his horns down in a charge. The headlong rush was accompanied
at that point by the champion's wordless, frenzied batte cry.
Uraou must have realized what was happening at the last minute, and he managed to turn sideways,
avoiding the horns but taking a head-on collision from the shield on the bison's head, absorbing
an impact the equivalent of being hit by a carriage. Despite Uraou's great bulk, the bear was
sent into the air, knocked back several yards before collapsing into the loose dirt of the arena,
flat on his face.
Lord Levid was laughing immediately, but still managed to speak, "Hector! I am surprised! I
hadn't expected your slave to do well, but the match has only just begun! Has he fallen alr--"
and his words slowly faded away as Uraou got shakily to his feet, "Ah... good... I was almost
embarrassed for you." and he finished his monologue with a sip. Lord Hector did not respond, but
Sidney could see that the stag's ears and nares were red and his hands were in fists, shaking
faintly.
Back down on the arena floor, Uraou was once more on his feet, stumbling slightly as he pulled
off one of his crumpled pauldrons. The large axe the bear had been holding was nowhere to be
seen, but Sidney did catch sight of its broken shaft several feet to the side; Uraou drew the
spear from the loop on his back, and held the tip out in front of him to fend off any future
charge. Baron closed in quickly, but brought his mace in to bear this time instead of his horns.
Sidney recognized the move Uraou used to deflect the blow; Maern had shown it to the slaves many
times, and it worked exactly as it was intended: the mace was redirected up and over Uraou, but
the unanticipated result was the shaft of the spear snapping in half. Quickly discarding the
lower half of the spear, the bear followed-up the parry by quickly stepping inside the bison's
reach and delivering a one-handed jab with the half-spear to his opponent's gut.
Baron grunted as the spear's tip pierced his heavy hide right below where one of his chest plates
stopped, but if the blow affected the bison he certainly didn't let it show. In fact, he took a
hand off of his mace and reached down to grip Uraou around the throat. The bear pulled his
weapon back and stabbed Baron again, but he was already off-balance from the grapple and he
couldn't get much force behind it.
Releasing another roar, the bison dropped his mace entirely and added another hand to the bear's
neck, picking Uraou off the ground. Although the bear kicked Baron repeatedly in the abdomen the
bison was not about to let go, and he squeezed harder, shaking Uraou as he did so. It wasn't
long before the bear's struggling grew weaker and weaker until it stopped entirely. Only then
did Baron drop him. The bison turned, facing upward, to gaze at the balcony where Sidney stood
in stunned horror. The massive gladiator's eyes did the questioning for him as he said nothihng
more than an inquiring grunt.
As one, almost every head in the arena turned to where Lord Levid sat, separated from Lord Hector
and Sidney by the purple curtain. Sidney's eyes never left Uraou's prone form, but, out of the
corner of his eye he could see his master's fingers were clenching the arm rests of his chair,
and the stag fought visibly to keep his voice as neutral as possible as he said, "Surprisingly
well done for his first official match... wouldn't you agree, your majesty?"
Lord Levid did not respond at first, and, as the seconds ticked by, Sidney's heart managed to
find its beat as a shred of hope lifted the haze of utter horror that permeated his being. Uraou
got back up after being tossed back like a bag of hay... he had drawn blood... he had scored
several hits... "No." his hope was shattered in a single word. Baron released another primal
scream, then raised his hoof. Sidney looked away, closing his eyes, but the sound of skull being
smashed wasn't so easily avoided for his acute hearing.
Somewhere in the back of his mind the fox took a moment to consider that Baron was likely from
Diermyna, or Meisenyl, or Vensii, because the bison from other kingdoms didn't have hooves. He
also fondly hoped that the brute wasn't from Diermyna, but he didn't have a chance to appraise
just why he wished such a thing. Sidney fainted but not before he had a moment of complete and
abject self-reproach: how would it make Lord Hector look? "Uraou..." he murmured as everything
went black. Fainting was the thing he hated himself for the SECOND most.