Slave Trade - Language Barrier
Slave Trade Language Barrier copyright 2011 comidacomida
Sidney sat in the work shed, the events of the morning still fresh in his mind. Gazing across the room to the still unconscious stallion, the new Slave Master could only shake his head in apprehension, "How long can he sleep?" it seemed an almost impossible feat for the fox to accomplish-- the horse had slept nearly eight hours. Sidney couldn't remember the last time he slept eight hours... he doubted that he ever had.
The fox knew that the stallion was under his guidance and that he realized that, as a Slave Master, he should consider awakening his charge, but, Sidney realized, he didn't have the first idea of how to be authoritative. What if the horse was angry? That wasn't supposed to matter, was it? He was the one in charge. HE was the one who was supposed to give the orders. Sidney felt a little quiver of fear in his stomach; he had never given an order in his life.
Swallowing the growing sense of concern, Sidney stood up and slowly approached the horse. He cleared his throat once... a second time... then a third, and opened his muzzle, ready to issue his first command ever, drawing on his impression of Ulric's very vocal orders-- and bit back a yelp when a rapid knock sounded from the door. "Yea?" the fox called, quickly changing his focus from the prostrate horse to the door, which slowly opened.
The portal opened most of the way and a brownish-gray rodent's muzzle peeked through. Finneas looked in on him, whiskers twitching. The mouse's eyes went to Sidney, then the horse, then back to Sidney, "Yer two sleepin' in? Master won't like that, ya know, mate."
"I've been up for hours." the fox responded, "I... I can't believe he can sleep that much."
"'e's a horse, Sidney... th' bigger the worker the more energy they use... the more energy they use, the more they wanna sleep." the mouse explained.
"So... it's alright that he sleeps that much?" the fox asked.
"Not mah place t'say." the mouse shrugged, "I'm not 'is Slave Master."
"Oh... right." the fox's tail curled between his legs. He looked up at the mouse; Finneas was still favoring his leg, holding onto the door frame for balance, "What was it you came for?" Sidney asked him.
"Ah..." the mouse nodded, as if suddenly remembering the purpose of his trip, "Gralz told me ya gotta move yer stuff outta the barracks... guess th' Master wants ya to make this the place where ya lay yer head."
Sidney paused at that, "The work shed?" he asked.
"Aye." the mouse nodded.
"Really?" the fox was barely able to restrain his elation at the prospect. Ever since he first became a slave he'd either shared a bed with a trainer or master, or, when he was given time for himself he was still surrounded by dozens of other slaves. The thought of having the work shed not only provided him with privacy, but also an actual door. His eyes slowly swiveled to look at the blessed, blessed portal that he never expected to provide privacy that slaves weren't supposed to have.
"Yea..." Finneas nodded, "With 'im too." he thumbed toward the still-unconscious horse.
Despite the realization that he was going to be 'trapped' with the stallion did little to lower Sidney's spirits. Did his Master truly approve of him, or did the stag simply not realize how much of an amazing gift he'd given to the fox? Either way, Sidney was overjoyed. "Wow..." the fox's muzzle split into a huge grin ear-to-ear.
"Hold off on th' celebratin'... ya still gotta clear out everythin' from the barracks." the mouse stated, "Anyway... I gotta get started... Master needs some packages delivered."
Sidney nodded, knowing better than to ask any questions; it wasn't his place. Finneas remained in the doorway right where he was until the fox finally had to ask, "Was that everything?"
The mouse nodded, "Aye."
"Then..." the fox paused, one ear up in confusion.
"Ya a Slave Master now." the mouse reminded him.
"Oh!" Sidney suddenly got the idea, "Alright... then... um... you're dismissed?" it came out more a question than permission for the mouse to leave.
"G'luck, Sidney." Finneas announced, heading back out the door, "I'm thinkin' ya gonna need it."
Sidney let out a sigh, "That makes two of us." he said once the mouse was out of earshot. Glancing back at the stallion, the fox saw that he was still very asleep. "Well..." Sidney said to himself, "He's not going anywhere..." and, at length, he walked out the door, heading back to one of the four large wooden buildings on Lord Hector's estate. He proceeded to the one closest to the manor home, reserved for the versatile slaves that held any number of positions in Lord Hector's house.
Most of the slaves had already left the barracks for the day; few used it for anything other than to sleep. Slave Master Gralz, a rather imposing wolverine sat off to the side going over a collection of papers. Unlike most of the other slaves in Lord Hector's employ, Gralz knew how to read. Under the ownership of almost any other Master, the wolverine would have been put to death but, thanks to the kind, benevolent, gentle ownership of Lord Hector, the wolverine's unique talent was put to good use.
Although Gralz was not the most intimidating, fear-inspiring, or commanding of Slave Masters, he was afforded the most power because, as Sidney had heard it said, Lord Hector appreciated intelligence. Sidney felt a moment of remorse that he was not more intelligent than he was-- although the fox had received more training than most, he realized that he would never be able to impress his Master with fine speech, philosophy, or or knowledge of foreign tongues. He managed to resist laughing at himself; the best use he knew for his tongue was--
"Sidney!" Gralz spoke up in his well-known, gruff manner.
Sidney almost yelped at the wolverine's bark, but he managed to compose himself, "Yes, Sir?"
The wolverine rolled his eyes, "I'm not your Slave Master anymore, Sidney... you don't call me sir."
"Yes, sir--" the fox nodded compliantly before quickly adding, "I mean... Gralz."
The wolverine let out a sigh, "I have a new shipment of slaves coming in. You have ONE to worry about, but I have thirty four. Get everything and get it out of here." he motioned to Sidney's old cot.
"Yes, si-" the Slave Master shot him a glance, "Gralz." the fox quickly corrected himself.
"Why did Lord Hector make you a Slave Master, Sidney?" the wolverine questioned, "did you finally get your paws on him? Is that it?" the accusation was a harsh one, and said with as much spite as the fox had ever heard from Gralz.
"No." the fox answered, withdrawing further from the wolverine, "I was sent to the pit to buy a house slave for the Master--"
"Isn't that Finneas' task?" Gralz interrupted.
"It is... but he was recovering from a hurt leg." Sidney explained, quickly gathering up what few items were on his cot: three pieces of clothing and a light, threadbare blanket. Clothing and blankets were usually assigned to slaves so they wouldn't share with other slaves-- it decreased the chance of an outbreak of fur mites, ticks, and lice.
"So he put you in charge of the slave you picked up?" the wolverine challenged, "That sounds a little strange to me."
"I... I purchased a horse for the Master." Sidney admitted.
Gralz laughed. Sidney felt his ears droop as he gathered the items from the cot and bunched them into a ball, carrying them to the door. The wolverine continued to laugh as Sidney sidestepped him and, just as the fox was leaving, Gralz finally interrupted his mirthful expression to speak up, "Hoooo boy... you are one unlucky fox."
"Yea... I guess." Sidney commented, leaving the barracks without another word. Despite the dark cloud cast over him by the wolverine, the fox was able to gain the slightest bit of relief when he realized he didn't have to wait to be dismissed by his old Slave Master; Gralz had been in control of him at one point, but no longer. Gralz wasn't bad as far as overseers went-- though he had a very sharp tongue he rarely resorted to pain as a punishment. Still, it felt good for Sidney to know that he was a Slave Master... he was that much closer to being in direct contact with Master Hector.
The fox moved quickly across the courtyard once again. A large number of slaves were already out and about; the yard slaves were caring for the garden, grass, bushes, hedges, and plants while the larger slaves were putting their mass and muscle to good use moving heavy crates and barrels of supplies. The yard workers and the laborers were both under the command of Ulric, and that was one individual Sidney desperately wanted to avoid-- their interaction early that morning still weighed heavily on the fox's mind.
The lion, fortunately, was nowhere to be seen and Sidney made his way swiftly back to the work shed. Entering through the small shack's door the fox let out a deep breath of relief. He knelt down next to the pile of hay where he'd slept and began spreading out his blanket. Setting his meager clothing on top of his new 'bed', the fox took a seat and spent several moments to admire his new room... a room with a door. He had a room where he was the Slave Master. He had a room all to himself without anyone else-- his thoughts quickly skidded to a stop; where was the horse?!?!
Sidney frantically searched around the work shed, a feeble prospect considering there wasn't enough of anything to hide such a massive stallion, but he had few other ideas. Without any other recourse, the fox quickly bolted out the door to the yard. He considered calling for his charge, but realized that he didn't even know the horse's name. Sidney figured he could call for help, but that idea fell flat when he realized just how many people would love the opportunity to see him burn for it. In the end, Sidney realized, unsurprisingly, that he was on his own.
Racing around the estate, Sidney made it a point to keep out of the way of the rest of the slaves. He sprinted from place to place, keeping his eyes peeled for the massive new slave that was quickly becoming as much trouble as the fox was worried he might become. While several other slaves objected to the fox racing across their work area, those slaves in-the-know quickly informed those not aware of the change that Sidney was a Slave Master, and he, for once, didn't have to worry about angering the laborers; they gave him plenty of space to carry out his activities. Unfortunately, as Sidney continued to run aroud the massive state, 'space' was one thing he was quickly wishing there was less of.
After almost an hour of running it only seemed reasonable that Sidney would be tired and, feeling the ache in his arms, legs, and lungs, he would have liked to have slowed down, but he still didn't know where to locate the slave he'd been told to look after. As the fox continued his fruitless search for the horse, he had just begun to gain confidence that the other slaves would let him go about his business undisturbed when a rhino and an ox came jogging after him from across the field. Not having much of a choice except to create a break in his stride, the exhausted fox slowed as the two heavies approached.
As he came to a stop, so too did the rhino and ox. They looked at one another for a moment, shrugs, grunts, and casual head-gestures later, the rhino chose to speak up, "Sir..." it was obvious that the heavy didn't like the taste of the word.
"Yes?" Sidney tried to avoid sounding meek, and attempted to say the word with at least some amount of confidence-- he was pretty sure he failed, but the two slaves were apparently willing to let it slide; rank had its privileges.
"Please stop." the rhino requested.
"What?" the fox asked, glancing between the two. At first he thought they had a problem with him running around the estate, but that's when, he noticed that both of them had several fresh whip marks along their shoulders and biceps.
"Tell the horse he wins." the ox noted flatly.
"He wins?" Sidney asked, but he quickly picked up on the first part of the comment, "The horse?" both slaves nodded, and Sidney perked up immediately, "Take me to him!" it was the first command he ever truly issued with any amount of conviction... but he was too busy following the two slaves to realize it.
They led him to the side of the estate where several laborers were busy preparing drainage ditches for new irrigation to the fields. Sidney knew next to nothing about crops or the best way to prepare the fields, but he'd seen it enough from a distance to understand the basics of what as going on. Several work crews were creating a pattern of lines through the earth, all apparently working at double-speed compared to how they normally would. That is when he found out why.
Several observers were shouting and cheering; the laborers were engaged in some kind of challenge and, on the far side of the field, Sidney was able to see the challenger: the horse. Each of the laborers were working in groups of two, toiling away as they dug trenches and cleared away soil. It seemed almost supernatural how quickly the horse moved, working alone with such efficiency and speed that the groups of two were barely able to keep up with him.
Sidney was transfixed as he watched the horse's every motion; each step, each swing of the pick, each pull against the earth blended together as if it were a dance. The workers were no strangers to the way of ditch digging but their every move seemed clumsy and wasteful when placed next to him. Several of the field slaves had already collapsed, gasping for breath off to the side but their Slave Master, Wragol a foreboding, massive, ill-tempered bull was more interested on those still trying to keep pace with the stallion. Wragol brought his whip to bear several times on the slaves still digging, shouting at them to go faster... but it was all for not.
Sidney remained by the sidelines simply staring at the goings-on. His eyes danced from worker to worker, slave to slave as they pushed themselves to the limits, falling one-by-one until only the stallion remained standing. The gathered crowd raised a cheer for the victorious horse, but he still didn't stop. The crowd, beyond any understanding of the stallions motives, slowly began to calm down, only to erupt in cheers again as the horse finally laid down his pick-- only then did everyone realize his goal; between his activities and the double-speed with which the workers attempted to keep up, the entire field had been dug... a whole day worth of work completed before noon.
The stallion, covered in a thick sheen of sweat, casually walked past the audience and stopped right in front of Sidney. He looked down from his massive height at the fox and spoke a short set of words in his strange language, *CRACK* then recoiled as a whip bit into the flesh of his arm.
"So THIS is your responsibility, is it, Sidney?" demanded Wragol, pulling his whip back for another strike, "What's your game, you little furball?" he demanded of the fox, lashing the horse with another strike *CRACK!*, connecting the end of the whip to the stallion's neck, "Trying to show up my laborers?" he challenged. The horse turned to face him and the bull struck out again, *CRACK!* lashing the stallion across the chest.
"No!" Sidney objected, "Stop!" he pleaded, "I--"
"Thinking just because you're a Slave Master that you can come in and disturb the chain of command?" the bull snorted, "Well you've got another thing coming." Wragol lashed the whip out again, *CRACK!* catching the horse on the side of the face. The stallion stood there, staring at the bull as a trickle of blood escaped each of the whip marks.
"He didn't do anything wrong!" Sidney objected.
"Oh? Was he just following orders then? Is that it?" the bull pulled the whip back again, "I'll teach you to undermine me!" he bellowed, and Sidney winced, recoiling as the tip of the unfurled whip came screaming in at him... but there was no crack... no lash... no pain. Looking back toward the bull, Sidney's ears went up when he saw the stallion's massive arm between him and Wragol; the whip was wrapped around the horse's forearm.
"How dare you!" the bull roared, and pulled back on the whip; the stallion didn't move an inch.
"No." the horse stated and, almost casually, yanked the whip with such force that the bull was pulled forward, stumbling the whole way. With as much grace and ease as he had swing the pick, the stallion brought his left arm forward; the fist and Wragol's head met with a resounding crack that Sidney was convinced could have been heard on the far side of the estate. The horse didn't react to the sound; Sidney winced; Wragol dropped like a rock. As the echo of the powerful collision slowly faded, the crowd erupted into a new set of cheers; the bull was hardly a well-liked taskmaster.
Sidney's tail was straight out, puffed as much as it could be as his entire body was more tense than a pulley line. He looked up at the horse, who casually picked a tooth out of his knuckles, "We need to go." he stated. The horse looked down blankly at him; Sidney motioned back toward the work shed. Without commenting, the horse started out in that direction, forcing Sidney to quickly run to catch up. The stallion's strides were long, eating up turf at a quick pace, making the fox jog just to keep with him. "That wasn't a good idea." Sidney said.
"Goud eiy-deeee-uh." the stallion sounded out.
"It was NOT a good idea." Sidney repeated.
"NOT a goud eiy-deeeah." the horse stated.
"Right." the fox nodded, stopping as they reached the shed. He opened the door and motioned the stallion inside, and was thankful beyond words when the slave complied. once they were inside, Sidney dropped to the ground, letting out a shaky breath, "You hit a Slave Master..." he said to the horse, who took a seat on the ground facing him. The stallion's ears were up, his piercing, intent, willful eyes boring into Sidney. Despite that there was no challenge in the gaze, Sidney had to look away. "We're going to be punished..." the fox sighed.
"Pun... ish'd." the stallion sounded out.
"Yea..." Sidney nodded, his sigh accentuated by a faint whine. He reached to the healing supplies and pulled out a fresh bandage. Holding out his paw, the fox didn't wait long before the horse got the idea, and held out his own; Sidney began wrapping the wound from where the stallion's fist had connected with Wragol's muzzle.
"Yea." the horse repeated.
"We're not off to a very good start." Sidney noted, putting the rest of the bandages away.
The horse looked at his fist, clenching and unclenching it in the bandage a number of times before looking to the fox, "Thenk yuu." he sounded out.
"You're welcome." Sidney responded by rote, then paused, realizing what the stallion said. He managed a half-smile at the horse's words, "Yea..." he let out a sigh, "for all the good it will do." It wasn't long before several of Lord Hector's men came looking for them; at that point Sidney wasn't sure what would happen next, but he was fairly certain he wouldn't like it.