I’ve been unstrapped and released from my embarrassment of a transportation method. I was given a small chance to take in what would be my new area of servitude. The mayor’s district wasn’t very big compared to the other districts just like Squeaks imagined. I could see the stone walls surrounding the entire perimeter from here. It gave the feeling that I was trapped in here, not that I was being protected. I mean I was trapped here… for now.

The garden that covered the outside portions of the large mansion was manicured in such a way that it seemed simple. There was no topiary garden depicting animals or baby angels. Every bush, tree, and plant was uniform in shape. Those shapes consisted of finely edged rectangles and squares. The only color that seemed present besides the overwhelming amount of grey was the orange trees along with the occasional dark green of a bush. The leaves on the trees had turned an orangish-yellow color as they flew about on the air currents and littered the ground.

The mansion itself was something I’ve yet to see in this world. If somebody combined the idea of a nobles mansion and a military fort this is what the building would look like. The polished grey stone seemed to be the only material used in its construction. The building was probably about 4 stories high give or take and was as wide as it was long. The entire structure could be best described as “blocky”. The overall design was simple in favor of showing off its natural design rather than giving it any kind of real decorations. Somehow it didn’t manage to look like a castle either but a real mansion if that mansion was built entirely from stone.

It was the exact opposite of the marble palace of Ostela, simple and efficient. Whoever designed and created this mansion was definitely in the military. At this day in age, only a general of high standing would have their seat of power look like this. I couldn’t imagine a normal king or emperor living in such a building.

“Enough gawking, move,” Ester ordered with a shove.

I complied and walked down the stone path. Even the walkways and roads were of the same grey stone but they had been cut into blocks instead of being entirely smooth. Without having shoes on it made the ground very cold and uncomfortable. At least Ester removed my wrist shackles so I wasn’t so bogged down by all this unnecessary weight. The more time that went on the more I struggled to move my own body. It felt like the pain of my injuries never got better but the chains on my wrists and the collar around my neck kept getting heavier.

Was I imagining this? Or was I just becoming frailer? I couldn’t tell.

Standing in front of the doorway were two people that made my head hurt and surprised me in equal parts. Just when I think I’ve seen it all this world really throws me for a loop. What’s next? Is an actual dragon going to fly down from the sky?

In a fresh-pressed yellow and brown butler attire was an old High Elf. At least the oldest Elf I’ve ever seen, he looked to be around his late forties. But the more I looked at him the more I realized he wasn’t just a High Elf, he must be a half-Elf. How was I sure? Even I don’t know. Perhaps it was some inborn ability for me to be able to tell the difference between Elves? Now that I think about it, I knew that girl Sarah in my class was a half-Elf without even asking.

The man stood straight-backed awaiting our arrival. His well-kept silver hair was in a bun and he had a silver mustache to match. It was also the first time I’ve ever seen an Elf with facial hair before. The person standing next to him caught my attention. It seemed I was having a lot of firsts today because I’ve never seen a True Beastmen before. Dad told me about them during a walk into town one day, I vaguely remember him saying something about them being a proud race and that there weren’t many of them around. But other than that I didn’t know much about True Beastmen.

I believed it was female judging by her body proportions but I couldn’t be sure. She had the appearance of a bipedal black jungle cat, most likely a panther. She had dark green eyes and was more beast than man.

Cerila and Sorn looked like an Elf or Human with animal features but this True Beastmen was an animal with Human features. She had 5 fingers on each hand that included what looked to be an opposable thumb. The True Beatmen had on a brown and grey maid outfit. She was watching me with a smile, at least I think she is smiling…

Behind the two was a handful of maids and servants in the same color schemes as the maid and butler. The half-Elf man spoke out to me in Elven with a clear voice,

“A mixed Dark Elf child? You must be the slave Lord Sandervile contracted. I am Sylros, House Sandervile’s head servant and Lord Sandervile’s personal attendant. From today onwards you live to serve House Sandervile. To be more specific you will be of service to the Young Master. However, you are not fit for such a task yet. You shall be trained extensively before you even have so much as the honor to serve a member of House Sandervile. Do you understand?”

Well, that was the nicest way somebody has told me that I was a slave. And that I wasn’t even fit to be a slave…

“I believe you are getting ahead of yourself, Sir Sylros. Perhaps you should ask him his name first?” The True Beastmen’s voice was soft and had an element to it that was difficult to explain. It was almost like a feline purring? I couldn’t quite place it but her voice was gentle on the ears.

Sylros adjusted his collar awkwardly, “Ah, yes I suppose I have forgotten who I am dealing with. I shouldn’t expect so much on his first day. What is your name, child?”

Mmmm, what is my name? I suppose I can keep my first name as is. If somebody is looking for me going by a different name might see them miss me somehow. But Squeaks did tell me to use another last name. Ah, I’ve got the perfect one.

“Kaladin Ambersoul, sir.”

Sylros and the maid both raised an eyebrow at me. Were they surprised I knew the Human language? Or maybe that I managed to call him sir so easily?

I figured there was no point in resisting these people. It would only prolong my suffering and I needed to assimilate if I was going to have an easier time escaping. It was in my interest to become the best little slave child as quickly as possible. Even if I had to mimic some of my old habits.

I’ll hate every second of this. Being a slave was bad enough but now being a direct servant to somebody else, while also having no freedom was only a single step above being dead to me. I never wanted to serve anyone or anything ever again. It didn’t matter if that was a princess or a nation. It seems I’ve found myself to be in an even worse situation.

“Perhaps your previous master taught you some manners. There is a chance this might not be such a difficult task after all,” Sylros mused. “Now then, the first order of business is to fix your… current appearance. We can not tolerate having a servant of House Sandervile looking so rundown. Muriel, see to it that this child is presentable.”

“Yes, I shall see to it immediately, sir,” The Beastmen woman said. “Come now, Kaladin, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Muriel extended an open hand to me, I was hesitant to take it but I did decide that resistance was futile. No need to bite the hand that was going to feed me.

She walked me through the mansion and began pointing out various areas to me. I was half listing and half observing my surroundings. I wanted to formulate my plan of escape sooner rather than later. Before I had tried to escape quickly and it led me straight into despair. This time I was going to do things the right way. This was going to be a Kronos escape plan, not a Kaladin one.

I began taking stock of everything from guard patrols to servant paths. I needed to know the ins and outs of this mansion. Of course, this was just the initial reconnaissance. I could only glean so much information in one go. It was going to take time but I would achieve my goals.

The interior of the mansion matched the outside. Swords, shields, spears, and various other weapons decorated the building while servants dusted and cleaned them. Tapestries hung from the walls with the symbol of Sandervile on them. The few paintings that were on the walls were militaristic in nature, often depicting a battlefield or knights subjugating some kind of monster.

The hallways were also lined with suits of armor. Some were full plate and basic in design, often carrying a single weapon. Some were more flashy. The more idealistic armor seemed less efficient in combat and went for more of the aesthetic approach to plate armor.

One suit of armor was painted bright orange. The helmet plume was made of bright blue feathers and a giant ornate two-handed glaive rested in the outstretched gauntlets. Those feathers… looked like feathers from a Nacut. A Nacut, huh… it’s been a long time since I’ve been on a hunt. I miss the thrill but I miss the people I went with more.

“Kaladin? Kaladin are you paying attention?” Muriel asked me with a smile.

“Uh, sorry, ma’am. I zoned out,” I admitted.

“It’s okay, you must be tired and there isn’t a rush for you to know everything. And you don’t have to call me ma’am, feel free to call me Muriel like everyone else,” She said softly.

“Okay, Muriel.”

“Now then there is one thing you absolutely need to know. As slaves, we are not allowed to be on the 3rd floor of the mansion unless directly ordered. Please be mindful of that rule. It is very important, okay?”

So Muriel was a slave as well. I noticed there was a difference in the attire amongst the servants. It seems that slaves wear grey and brown outfits while servants wear yellow and brown. I can’t be sure what the difference between a slave and servant is, I mean they seem like the same thing to me. Perhaps servants are just civilians?

“Why is that?” I asked.

“The 3rd floor is for the Sanderviles. Mayor Sandervile’s study is up there, along with his personal quarters. His five wives and children also live on the 3rd floor. So as slaves we are not permitted on the 3rd floor. Now, this might change when you come into service of the Young Master but until you are told otherwise please refrain from entering the 3rd floor unless Mayor Sandervile or Sylros order you to.”

I see, so the entire floor is the personal quarters for the Sanderviles. It’s a shame I can’t go up there on my own so I’ll have to wait for the time being. But she said “children” but I’ve only heard people say “Young Master” not “Young Masters”, so with 5 wives how many children does he have? How can I ask without sounding sketchy…

"How many Young Masters are there, Muriel?”

“Well there used to be two but now there is just one. Young Master Gal left two years ago to attend the academy so he lives in the dorms there. Now it’s just Young Master Adria that lives in the mansion,” Muriel informed me.

“Okay.”

Five wives but only two children? Those numbers don’t match up. If I look at this situation through the eyes of history it’s a disaster for the House of Sandervile. Having only two heirs at this point in time can’t be a good thing. Assassinating two heirs isn’t that difficult of a task and doing so would cripple the Sandervile royal line.

Mayor Sandervile isn’t that old but he isn’t getting younger either. Then again it’s probably better for the world that there are fewer Sanderviles in it. Hopefully, the House will survive long enough that I can make a clean escape. Having a rebel army kick down the door doesn’t sound very good for my health.

Muriel continued our tour till we reached what would be considered the backmost portion of the second floor,

“This is where you will be staying. Only a handful of the servants have their own rooms so the majority of us live here. It’s not much but at least you will have a bed and a roof. There isn’t much privacy either so I’m sorry about that…” Muriel said awkwardly.

She led me over to a simple cot that would now be my bed. It was as spartan as the entire building.

“It’s fine. Nothing I’m not used to.” At least it was off the ground and I didn’t have to share it with anyone. It even came with a blanket.

“Ah, that’s right…” She said with a little sadness in her voice.

It seemed Muriel was a kind person. After a long time of being treated so poorly, it was refreshing to have someone be kind out of the gate. I mean we were in similar situations but she could have easily pulled rank while being a royal pain about things. Muriel was more than happy to explain the finer details of things to me when I asked.

But I couldn’t let my guard down around her. I didn’t know how far her loyalty ran for the Sanderviles. If she had been a slave her entire life there was a good chance she was completely brainwashed into serving them. So leaking any ill intent might see me getting punished, therefore restricting what little access I had.

“This is the washroom. It’s communal however men and women bathe at separate times. But right now it will be empty so let me get you some water so you can bathe.”

I moved around in the washroom and waited for Muriel to return. The room wasn’t anything special; it was all made from the same grey stone but there were wooden benches to sit on at least. There were even some metal sheets that had been shined so much you could see your reflection.

I hadn’t seen myself since Ostela… I thought I looked bad then but now I managed to look even worse. Back in Ostela, I was only on the cusp of starvation but even then that was enough for my Elven body to deteriorate. Without proper food for almost a year I was nothing more than a skeleton walking. Elves weren’t very big in the first place, keeping muscle and fat seemed to be a difficult challenge for our race.

I ran my hands through my hair but I didn’t get very far. My fingers got caught in my waist-length hair that was matted in most places and looked more akin to a pile of black straw. My hair also stopped growing correctly at some point from all the damage.

“Kaladin? Kaladin are you okay?” Muriel asked me hesitantly.

“I’m fine.”

I was sitting with my legs crossed in front of the metal mirror while I examined myself. I probably looked like some ghoul that just happened to see its reflection.

“I have the water for you to bathe and some clean washcloths. Also, we are going to have to cut your hair-”

“I’ll do it myself,” I snapped.

I watched as Muriel winced a bit in the reflection of the mirror. I… I didn’t mean to snap like that. I was just tired of breaking promises and I wanted to keep the one I made to Dad about growing my hair out. I knew I had to sacrifice some of my hair since it was all but destroyed at a certain point but I didn’t want anyone else doing it.

“Sorry, it’s just I’d like to do it myself, please,” I requested.

“But… I mean are you sure? I just can’t…” Muriel trailed off.

She was hesitant to give me the blade to cut my hair. I didn’t get it at first but now I do. She just walked in on me staring at myself in the mirror-like a lost soul and was worried that I was going to do something.

“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt anyone or myself, I promise. You can stand and watch me if you want,” I reassured her.

Her swirling green eyes never looked away from me. She was probably trying to figure out if I was serious or not. Her eyes weren’t cruel or calculating though if anything they reminded me… they reminded me of Grandpa’s eyes, just a darker green. They had that same soft glow to them just like when Grandpa tried seeing through my intentions, something he did all too frequently. Eventually, she gave me a warm smile her pearly white fangs showing,

“It’s okay. This is probably going to be the only time you get to bathe by yourself so you should take the opportunity to enjoy it. I’ll leave everything here for you, try not to take a long time, okay?”

“Understood.”

“You don’t have to be formal with me when it’s just the two of us. Just talk to me like normal, please,” she smiled wryly.

“Uh, sure thing. Thanks, Muriel.”

Muriel left the basin of water and the clippers along with a few washcloths and took her leave. I went to try and move the basin of water a bit closer to me but I couldn’t pick it up at all. Eventually, I had just settled for using my legs to press it closer to where I wanted it.

I silently thanked Muriel again for giving me this alone time. It’s been forever since I’ve had time to myself in a somewhat private setting. I set to work on cutting my hair first. I was sadly going to have to cut a lot of it off. I took the clippers and mentally marked off where I was going to start the chopping. I planned on bringing my hair from my waist to just barely past shoulder length. It was a shame and it frustrated me but damaged hair needed to be cut.

I finished my handiwork and tried to even it out as best as I could. I was already getting a bit tired from holding myself up for so long and straining to cut my hair. I sat down on the wooden bench out of breath and rubbed my fingers across the cold red metal of my slave collar.

I was hopeful that they would take this off of me. I didn’t see any of the other slaves or servants wearing one. But I remember what Remi told me about Obedience collars and how they could be made to be smaller. I was worried that I was going to get one of those and if I did… it would make my escape impossible.

If they try putting one on me what do I do? Do I fight back instantly? Take a hostage maybe? I don’t see myself ever getting out of here alive if I do something like that. I’m also in no condition to fight, even if I blasted off my entire mana pool to escape I wouldn’t even make it to the noble district. I doubt I could even take out Ester let alone a whole squad of guards. I guess I just have to hope that scenario doesn’t come to pass.

Next, I began washing my body free of grime. The occasional blasts of water that I received during my time as a slave could hardly be counted as a proper bath. The water was warm which was a pleasant surprise. Wrapped in a washcloth that Muriel left, I noticed something strange. I unwrapped the item to find a bar of soap. I haven’t had soap since I was home. Although the soap didn’t smell like anything it was still a small blessing. Thanks, Muriel.

---

Although I still looked like a mess, at least I didn’t look like a ghoul anymore. I wiped at my face with the washcloth once more and began braiding my hair. It was difficult to braid my hair but I could manage. I probably didn’t have much time left but I wanted to reaffirm my goals, I needed a solid plan of action.

First, I need to assimilate into the life of a servant here, the sooner the better. While I’m doing that I need to map out this entire building and district. If the chance arises I need to do the same for the noble and knight districts. I need to know the ins and outs of every habit for guards, slaves, and servants I can.

Second, I need to find the royal escape tunnels. I have a feeling that I can do it with a bit of earth magic or just by snooping around in the right places. Those tunnels are going to be my best bet of escaping without anyone noticing. And if I can’t find the tunnels then finding an alternative route out will come after. Maybe a mail delivery or something.

Speaking of mail I need to attempt to send a letter out. I’m not sure how difficult it’s going to be but if I can let my family know where I am and that I’m alive there is a chance of rescue. But writing a note means physical evidence that can be traced back to me. I need to be absolutely certain that I can pull it off before I attempt something like that.

Third, I needed to make a decision on where I’m going to flee. Going back to Ostela is out of the question. As far as I can see, I have two choices. I can either go south to The Vast Barrens and try to get in contact with the Dark Elves that live there. Hopefully, somebody can help me.

Alternatively, I could escape to the northeast to the Kingdom of Luminar. They are friendly to escaped slaves and if my memory serves me right Dad told me about an old friend in the capital there. I believe his name was Bowen and he was a teacher at a university or something. I’ve also been told that members of the Shadow Clan are in the northeast as well.

Mmmm… if I go northeast I’ll have to travel through another City State and then cross mountain paths. Doing so alone as an escaped slave might prove difficult. I’ll have to make it through some kind of border patrol as well to get to The Barrens but at least it’s closer. But I’m also running the risk that I might not receive help from my isolationist Dark Elf kin.

Either way, it’s a crapshoot with no guarantees. Traveling the shorter distance to friendly territory makes the most sense. If and when I escape, I’ll head to The Barrens and seek out help from the Dark Elves. Even if they don’t help me directly, at least I’ll be free in a land of people I somewhat look like. I’ll also technically be closer to home if I go south instead of northeast.

I finished my hair and rolled my shoulders. I was tired, starving, and beaten down. But I wasn’t going to give up again, I had a family to return to. It’s just like Squeaks told me, as long as I’m alive, I can be free again one day.

No matter what it takes, I’m going to be free.