Prompt 37: A Game of Change

Story by Seracen on SoFurry

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The day was hot, the sun beating down on the people milling around beneath it. Jarvra lay in the shade beneath a canvas tent, the boar flicking a whip flicking idly beside himself and watching the shapes and loops that it made. The slaves were trudging past, all doing their respective tasks and trying not to collapse in the heat.

Around them, the bones of an enormous arena loomed around them, still under construction. Rickety platforms and scaffolding surrounded the half-built stone walls, slaves were scaling them, high above the ground. There were cranes lifting stone into the air, other slaves dragging the same blocks around the construction. It would be the greatest construction that the city had ever seen; an arena worthy of the warriors that would be proving themselves inside it. That is, if it was ever finished.

Jarvra cursed loudly at a slacking slave. It was a little rabbit that had fallen to the ground, the bag of tools he had been carrying falling to the ground and spilling out. The slave scrambled around, picking them up and putting them back in the leather pouch. He wasn't moving fast enough so Jarvra leapt up and stalked over to the whimpering boy.

The tip of the whip caught the rabbit between the shoulder blades. His short fur did nothing to protect him from the blow and he yelped before clambering to his feet and scampering off, the bag of tools clutched to his chest. The overseer returned to his pavilion, immediately relieved to get out of the midday heat. Waves shimmered of the dirt, distorting the legs of those that had to walk out of the shade. The slaves kept as close to the wall as possible, where a thin strip of ground was shielded from the sun. They bumped into one another as they did, only grudgingly moving out into the sun.

Jarvra cursed at the again but couldn't be bothered going to punish them. Still, how dare they try to shirk their duties. They had no right. They were only here to work. They had no other use, no other purpose. If they did not work, they may as well die.

There was a loud scream from overhead as one of the slaves fell from a platform high above. Jarvra looked over just in time to see them hit the ground. He cursed loudly but overseer felt no sorrow or grief at the slave's death. It was just another thing that he would have to deal with today. He yelled for another two slaves to accompany him, the whip ensuring that they followed quickly enough. The body on the ground was crumpled awkwardly, many bones obviously and sickeningly broking. It was covered in short brown fur, its species not immediately recognisable.

It didn't faze Jarvra in the slightest. Pity the slave hadn't been some sort of avian. A bird might have survived the fall. With a couple of cracks, he directed the two that accompanied him over to the corpse. They carried it away as Jarvra looked skyward. The slave had fallen from the top of a section of scaffolding, high above. There was a small group of workers crowded on the platform, looking down on the spot where the slave had met their death. And not working.

Jarvra screamed up at them and his deafening voice made it up to the heights. The slaves vanished from sight quickly. It wasn't as if a slave dying was any great occurrence. It was too hot for the boar to be out in the sun for any length of time so he retreated again to the shade, keeping a watchful eye for any misbehaving slaves.

It wasn't such a long time before he found one. It was a lizard, fairly common in this part of the world and one of the few species for whom the heat was welcome. He was standing in a cleared patch of baked earth, lifting his arms and short, blunt muzzle to the sky. The overseer gave him ten seconds and when he didn't go back to his work, stalked out towards him.

The lizard saw him coming when he was only a few steps away. He turned, hoping to leave, but by then it was far too late. The length of leather in the overseer's hand curled out and wrapped around the lizard's neck and with a savage yank, Jarvra pulled him to the ground. The slave gagged and his hands flew up to his throat as he hit the dirt. He managed to unwind the whip and gasp in a breath of air, only for it to rush back out of his lungs when Jarvra slammed a hoof into his belly. The slave gasped again and his hands flew down to grab onto Jarvra's leg. This only infuriated him more.

The world went red. How dare the slave touch him?! He kicked him again and slammed the handle of the whip down onto the slave's head, beating him mercilessly. By the time that he came back to his senses, the lizard was in front of him wasn't moving, a line of blood running from the side of his snout to the ground. He groaned weakly. The boar raised the whip again and someone slammed into him from the side. He caught only a glimpse of a slave's clothing as he was knocked to the ground, the whip flying from his hand.

The lizard now forgotten, Jarvra scrambled to his feet, looking around wildly for whoever had knocked him away. There was a wolf kneeling over the crumpled form of the lizard, checking for signs of life. He had black markings around his eyes and muzzle and, like most of the slaves around here, was painfully thin. The rage exploded out of Jarvra. "How dare you!" he screamed, stalking over to the wolf slave. "You attack me! Me!" This time the slave saw him coming, not that it mattered. For a moment, Jarvra wondered if the slave would be stupid enough to try and fight him. He wasn't.

The overseer's fist hit the wolf in the muzzle and he fell to the side, not uttering a sound. Jarvra rained down blows, the slave not ever striking back. Every time he was struck down, he got back on his knees in front of his master. "Mercy," he said quietly, blood soaking into the fur on his face from where the skin had been broken.

Jarvra ignored him. "Mercy," he whispered again and again he was ignored. The boar struck him across the face and he fell one last time, not getting up. Unconscious or dead, it didn't really matter to the overseer. In the end, it was two other overseers who pulled him away, both brought over by the commotion. He was dragged away from the two slaves and taken over to his tent until he calmed and stopped fighting the other two overseers. One of them outranked Jarvra so he didn't really have a choice when he said, "Take the rest of the day. I don't want to see you here. And stay away from the slaves. After the ruckus you caused, they're as like as not to try and kill you. "

The boar grunted agreement and shook of the hands that were holding him. They left him sitting in the shade. Deciding that he couldn't very well disobey a direct order from a superior, Jarvra threw all of his things into a leather satchel which was then slung around his shoulder. He was too riled up to go home, preferring to stew in his anger in a distant corner of the construction site where there were none of these filthy slaves. He headed there now, passing dozens of workers who skirted out of his path and avoided looking at him. In a place like this, word travelled very quickly. No doubt every single one of these mongrels had already heard of the incident with the two slaves. Good. Fear was good.

The section of the arena that he went to was the only part that had been completed as of yet. It would one day be the main holding area for the fighters and animals but for now it was empty. Or it should have been. When the boar entered through the doorway that was bereft of doors, there was already someone there, sitting on a stone wall three times Jarvra's height. He had to crane his neck back to see the person on the wall. When he did he gave a jolt of surprise.

The person on the wall was wearing the ragged clothes of a slave but that wasn't what was so surprising. What was was his species. From his perch on top of the wall, a golden dragon was staring down at him. Bright scales covered his entire body, reflecting the light that came in through the windows and razor sharp talons tapped on the stone that he sat on. As he looked down at Jarvra, the boar saw that his eyes were the same shade as his scales, bright with the intense gaze of a predator. None of the other slaves looked at him like this, or even sat like him. The way the dragon was holding himself, the rags clothing him looked like they'd be fit for a king. A long tail hung partway down the wall, the tip flicking around gently.

As far south as they were, there were not many dragons down here, and certainly not any as slaves. They kept to their mountains and abhorred slavery. They would never allow one of their own to become one. The only dragons that came here were lords and other high-ranking members. The others didn't deign to leave their homes. That was why Jarvra hesitated; this one was obviously a slave as no free dragon would consider debasing themselves in this manner and there was an instinctual desire to treat him with respect. Perhaps it was the social customs or the far more deep-seated instinct that rose up when faced with an alpha level predator.

"Hello," the dragon said. There was a hiss to the words and fangs flashed as he spoke.

For a moment, Jarvra couldn't think of anything to say. Should he treat him as a slave or as a dragon? He decided for the middle ground. "You shouldn't be here. This place is off limits."

The dragon laughed. "Slaves built it. Should a slave not be here?"

That confirmed it for Jarvra. He was a slave. "Get down here," he snapped, his tone getting closer to the one he used on slaves. "Now!"

The dragon didn't do anything except smile. It sent a chill down Jarvra's back, his short fur standing on end. "What makes you think that you can order me around?"

The casual tone made it an actual question. He was genuinely asking and for some reason, that made Jarvra uneasy. The dragon continued. "Why do you think that you, such a little, little person, should be able to give me an order?"

"I-I ah..." His behaviour was throwing Jarvra off. This wasn't how slaves were supposed to act! He gathered himself. "I am an overseer and you are a slave! You will obey me!"

The dragon didn't move but his tail began flicking around more quickly, curling around. "You are an interesting one. So much bluster and anger for one so weak. Curious."

Dropping his bag to the ground, the boar draw his whip from his belt. If there was one thing that he knew, one thing, it was how to treat a disobedient slave. Except this time. The whip coiled out, the tip of the leather speeding out towards the dragon. The tip struck the dragon on the arm but he didn't seem to even notice it. Jarvra tried again, flinging the whip once more. This time when it impacted the dragon a shock ran down it. Jarvra howled, the muscles in his arms seizing, forcing him to drop the rawhide to the ground.

"Why do you insist on that thing?" the dragon said. He pointed a claw at it and the whip burst into flames on the ground. The flames turned white and in a moment, it nothing but ash. "It you must use it to enforce your will, your will must not be so strong."

"What are you?" Jarvra said, backing away and still holding his arm. Through his mind ran all of the stories that he'd been told as a child, all about the demons and spirits and evil things that could do impossible things. Was this one of them? He felt rooted to the spot. He should move, get out, go and find someone but he couldn't move. He was frozen.

"What am I?" the dragon mused. "That's a difficult question. My name is Miiras but as for what, even I'm not particularly sure. Am I demon or angel? Ghost or spirit? Perhaps a god or devil?"

None of the options appealed to Jarvra and, finding that the initial shock had worn off, he started inching towards the door. Carefully. Don't let him notice.

The dragon continued speaking. "It matters little in the end. All I know is that I get bored and watching the little ones, like you, is entertainment. It amuses me." Seeing what the boar was attempting, Miiras flicked a claw again. A line of symbols burned themselves into the ground, barring the way to the door. They glowed softly and Jarvra halted in his tracks. Whatever those symbols meant, he certainly did not want to cross them.

Funny how much the power in the room had shifted in the last few moments. Jarvra had walked in here confident and commanding or at least, he had thought of himself in that way. Now, he was reminded of when he was a child. Completely helpless.

"Entertainment?" he asked, eyes darting around for another way out. There wasn't any.

"Yes," Miiras replied. "What better way to wile away my eternity? I watch all of you. Like today." He gazed down at the boar, the predatory look back in his eyes. "Now, normally I don't care what happens to any of you. But today, that slave intervened. A lifetime of submission and slavery and yet, he still tried to protect another. And then, he asked for mercy. Mercy." He grinned, showing off the fangs that filled his muzzle. "You have no mercy, do you? I don't normally care but today it struck a chord. He asked for mercy, and you did not give it. Why?"

It took Jarvra a moment to realise that there was an actual question and that the dragon was waiting for an answer. This, however, was one subject he knew. "Mercy? For slaves? Slaves get no mercy! They are alive to follow orders and work. If they do not, then they may as well die!"

The dragon laughed and his claw twitched again, this time at Jarvra directly. The boar screamed as he floated into the air, flailing madly. There was nothing to grab onto as he rose up to the dragon's eye level.

"What an odd view," Miiras said, watching Jarvra writhe in the air. "But I don't agree. Your story ends when you die and then, what is there to interest me? Speaking of interesting things, I am going to play a game with you. You know, to entertain me. You will play and I will be amused. You hate slaves so much, I'll make you one and you will stay one until you die. But, because I'm a nice creature, I'll give you a way out. If you can get someone to show you mercy, it doesn't matter who, then I'll change everything back to the way that it was." Miiras smiled. "But, according to you, no one shows a slave mercy. Do you understand these terms as I have set them?"

As Miiras had been speaking, Jarvra had been twisting and turning but only managed to flip himself upside down in the air. "No! Let me down from here and leave me alone!"

Miiras grin widened. "No." Light began to curl around him, flashes of gold that shot out towards the boar hanging in the air.

"Mercy!" he yelled, the light coalescing around him, forming a cocoon. He vanished, leaving behind only the echo of a scream.

"Mercy," Miiras mused, staring at the space the cruel boar had occupied. "Now that I think on it, I don't have any mercy either."#############################Jarvra groaned as he opened his eyes. The heat was back, all around this time. What had happened? There had been a...a dragon and weird things. Had it been a dream? Just a dream? He sat up, shielding his eyes from the light. There were slaves all around, none of them even looking at him but he ignored them. They weren't important.

Looking down at himself, Jarvra swore in surprise. His clothes were gone, replaced with those of a slave. Had he fallen asleep and some troublemaker undressed and redressed him in his sleep? Could he even sleep through that? "Hey!" he roared to the surrounding people. "What has happened here?"

Some of the slaves looked at him strangely but there expressions were empty of something, something he had always seen. Fear. And that meant that something was very wrong. Clambering to his feet, Jarvra looked around. He was in the main construction area, where he had beaten the two slaves earlier. Nothing seemed to have changed in the time that he had been gone. Seeing his tent, he strode towards it. No matter how he was dressed, he was still an overseer.

To his surprise, there was already someone waiting there, under his own tent. Lounging on his chair, was a wolf, wearing proper clothes with a whip in his hand. It took Jarvra a moment to recognise him. It was the black markings around his eyes that gave him away. It was the wolf from earlier, the slave, except now he looked stronger, more well fed. His fur was thicker and he was simply healthier overall. And he was in Jarvra's chair.

"Hey!" he shouted, moving in under the shade to loom over the prone wolf. "What do you think you're doing?"

As the words came out of his mouth, everyone in the immediate proximity went silent. Even the wolf looked surprised. For a second, he looked bemused then reached over the hit the boar with the whip handle, just like he used to do to others. Jarvra stumbled back, a small cut near his eye leaking blood that matted the fur of his face.

"Dear gods," the wolf said, getting up. "The slave's gone insane."

Jarvra, touching the wound on his face to gauge the damage, stiffened. The rage that always simmered inside him broke through again and he didn't register the wolf's last words. All he knew was anger. He ran at the wolf and didn't see the whip until it was too late. It bit into his side, the thin cloth that passed for clothes not protecting him at all. Even with his short, bristly fur, the leather opened a cut along his ribs. It was enough to stop his heedless rush distracted him enough for the wolf's fist to slam into his face.

He fell heavily, dropping to his knees, the perfect height the wolf's kick to hit him in the face. Blinding light filled his vision and he blindly swung his fist, missing completely.

The wolf was savage, relentless. Jarvra gave up trying to defend himself and simply covered his head, trying to protect it. The air was kicked out of him and when the wolf started using the whip as well, cuts and gashes opening up along his body. His claws were blunt, not like the dragon's talons, but they still ripped through fur and skin. Blood matted down the fur around the wounds, marking all of the places where the whip and claws struck. Pain and sweat and blood blinded him and still the wolf did not stop.

When he did, Jarvra was practically unconscious. He kept whispering one word, over and over, almost too faint to hear, like a prayer. "Mercy...mercy...mercy."

He was left there, in the dirt. The slaves ignored him, as did the overseer, having gone back to the tent. Miiras moved unseen by any of them, slightly out of step with the world. He crouched down next to the battered form of Jarvra. The boar was broken but his heart sill worked, beating in his chest. He knelt on one knee beside him. "Someone needed to take your place and I thought a certain wolf might be the perfect one. But the game isn't over yet. Keep playing."