Chapter 41 – Leven

Lynett

I’m pissed. I’m pissed. I’m fucking pissed.

I stomped my way towards the hill, trying to calm myself down, but this annoying feeling of irritation didn’t leave my heart.

Why am I so pissed?

“Should I kill them?” a little voice suddenly spoke up.

“What?”

I winced at Cottontail’s unexpected proposition.

“You’re upset,” she explained, seeing the surprise on my face.

I don’t usually let my emotions be apparent, but Cottontail perfectly read through me. [Familiar Contracts] synchronized emotions between the contractors, allowing the familiar to understand better its master’s needs. Being bound together, Cottontail could easily gauge my emotional state.

“It’s fine,” I told her.

“But they’ve upset you,” the fox girl insisted anyway, “they should be punished for it.”

I sighed.

“Cotton,” I called out, “you can’t go around killing people just because I’m a little upset.”

Cottontail frowned, clearly disagreeing with me.

“Besides, it’s not them,” I continued, “it’s me.”

I was being abnormally irritated. Slaves couldn’t be blamed for their situation, they were the victims in this story. I perfectly understood that. Yet, I couldn’t help but feel irritated looking at them. And it wasn’t empathy that I was feeling. Not even close.

Unhappy with my decision, Cottontail fell silent, sulking behind me.

Trying to settle down this growing feeling of annoyance in my heart, I continued walking for a few minutes. Then, having reached our destination, I stopped, my eyes cast up a small hill, on a huge canvas shelter.

Okay, I’m here. If Troy’s alive, this is where I’ll find him. It’s also where I’m most likely to find the slavers’ leader. Killing two birds with one stone. But how do I get there? The shelter was guarded, clearly secluded for a reason.

“What are you looking at?”

Not too far from here, a slaver noticed me approaching.

“Fall back in line,” he ordered with a raspy voice.

The slaver gave me a threatening glare, warning me not to come any closer. Guessing that he was probably on watch, I suddenly figured out how to go to the canvas shelter. If the slavers won’t allow me to go there by my own will, I just need them to be the ones to bring me there, just like with Troy. In other words, I just need to commit an act of insubordination.

“Didn’t you hear me?” the slaver growled as I didn’t budge, “fuck off.”

The slaver was not alone. There were three of them, all seated around a fire. But considering their red flushed cheeks and the bottles lying discarded on the ground, they had clearly been drinking all afternoon. Perfect. Alcohol makes people sensitive, easy to provoke.

“Dickhead,” I spat, not missing the opportunity to vent all my frustration on him.

The slaver flinched at my random insult.

“What did you say?” he frowned, unsure of what he just heard.

“Arsehole.”

Confused at first, the slaver exchanged an inquiring look to his pals, but they were just as bewildered as him.

“Are you guys allowed to drink during your watch? I didn’t know they hired drunkards among slavers. Having a hard time because how pathetic you are?”

Finally giving in to my provocation, one of them stood up. His legs wobbling, struggling to keep balance, he gave me a threatening glare.

“Hey, you! Come over here!” he ordered.

Complying, I came to their meeting, followed by Cottontail. Once I was finally in his reach, the slaver grabbed me by my collar.

“Do you want to die?” he scowled.

He was reeking of alcohol.

“Not really,” I responded, turning my head away so as not to smell his breath.

“Seems to me like you’re asking for a beating,” the slaver sneered, “and if that’s the case, you only had to ask! I’m quite good at beating people, you see?”

“Yeah, I bet,” I taunted. “You look like the kind of dude who beats his own wife. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that she ran off with a younger guy.”

His smirk disappeared and his eyelids twitched. Obviously, I hit a nerve.

“Or maybe she just ran off because you’re a drunkard and you look like a squid,” I rubbed it in.

His two pals bursting out in laughter, the slaver shot them a deadly glare.

“Quit it!” he ordered. “I’m going to kill you!”

But his friends completely ignored his threat.

“Touché?”

Enraged and humiliated, the slaver returned his attention to me. He strengthened his grip on my collar and pulled me, lifting me up close to his face.

“You little shit! Seems like you forgot your place,” he snarled. “Since you want to die so bad, I’ll give you a glimpse of hell!”

“Come on, dude!” one of his pals called out, choking down his laughter. “She’s a Chosen One, you’re going to drop her value.”

“He’s right,” the other added, “it’s not everyday we have a Chosen One in our stock. You don’t want to piss the boss off, do you? Don’t let her get to your head!”

But the slaver clicked his tongue.

“Don’t worry about that,” he growled, “I won’t leave a scar.”

His eyes locked on me, he grabbed one of the bottles laying on the ground and smashed it, splintering the glass. Understanding that it was pointless to insist, the two other slavers didn’t try to stop him. One of them sighed, scratching his head, while the other simply shrugged as the drunkard brought the broken glass to my neck.

Mmmh… What about the canvas shelter?

However, before the glass could sink into my flesh, Cottontail stepped forward, grabbing the slaver’s arm.

“What do you want, midget?” he scowled, glaring at her. “Stay out of this if you don’t want to get beaten as well.”

But Cottontail did not let go. She reaffirmed her grip instead, impassible. However, behind this mask of indifference, I could feel her emotions flowing within me. And I immediately understood what she had in mind.

“Cotto-”

Before I could stop her, a loud cracking noise sounded in our ears, soon followed by the shrill cry of the slaver. Seared by pain, the drunkard immediately let go of me to grab his arm. Disoriented, the two other slavers didn’t immediately understand what just happened.

“Fuck! That little bitch just broke my arm!”

There was not a single drop of blood, but there was a clear mark of Cottontail’s grip on his arm, so it wasn’t so difficult to imagine the cracked bones underneath. And merely a few seconds later, his skin started to rot, eaten away by an evil power, craving for destruction. Dark magic.

“What the fuck is that?!” the drunkard shrieked.

“Cotton!” I called. “Have you forgotten about what I told you?”

“He was going to harm you,” she explained unapologetically, “it is my duty to protect you.”

Those goddamn contract terms!

“Kill them! Kill them both!”

◊◊◊◊◊◊

Well, it wasn’t so bad.

The three slavers quickly retaliated but, naturally, they were no match for Cottontail, who easily defeated them in mere seconds, breaking a couple more bones in the process. I didn’t have to do anything. Cotton didn’t let me. Not worth my efforts, she said.

Obviously, the commotion didn’t take long to attract attention. In a few minutes, reinforcements came as a couple dozen slavers arrived to subdue the wild fox girl. Their threatening stance didn’t help in calming her down. Since I couldn’t convince Cottontail to stop, determined to protect me, I surrendered, letting myself be captured. Only then she understood they were actually no threat, and finally conceded the fight. It just only took like half of them to subdue her. Only. After that, the slavers brought us up to the hill.

It didn’t go as smoothly as I’d planned, but at least, the initial goal was accomplished. We were now in the slavers’ headquarters.

“Those fucking bitches broke my arm!”

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you.”

Our hands now tied again, we silently listened to the drunkard complain as a couple of slavers kept a close eye on us.

“Fucking bitches… Fucking bitches! That’s a fucking act of rebellion and I’m going to fucking murder them!”

Dude… Can’t you stop with all those “fucking” already? I mean, if you want to curse, you could at least diversify your vocabulary.

In front of him, clearly tired of listening to his endless ranting, a man who seemed to be some kind of secretary was seated at a table, buried in red tapes. He was trying to focus on the documents before him, but the drunkard’s constant shouting wasn't helping him concentrate.

“Look, I get it,” he sighed, clearly not interested in his story. “I’ll take care of it, so how about you let me do my job now?”

“Look at my fucking arm!” the drunkard bellowed, shoving his arm to his face. “Look at it! They broke it! They fucking broke it!”

Exasperated, the secretary suddenly stood up, slamming his palms against his desk.

“Nobody cares about your fucking arm, Reed!” he shouted.

“What did you say? Do you want me to break yours as well?!”

The secretary cringed, covering his nose.

“You reek of alcohol… Maybe if you took care of that drinking problem of yours, this wouldn’t have happened. How many times have I told you to stop drinking during your shifts?”

The drunkard spat at his feet.

“Mind your own business, toothpick!”

“That’s what I’m trying to do, but you’re making things a bit difficult,” the secretary retorted, unfazed by his rude action, “so how about you fuck off and let me do my job? Unlike you, I have some work to do.”

“I was fucking attacked and I want my fucking revenge!”

“And I told you we’ll take care of it!”

Tired of arguing, the secretary sighed loudly. He massaged his temples, trying to get rid of the upcoming headache, and turned towards the other slavers.

“Get this fool out of here,” he demanded, with a quick gesture of the head.

The other slavers nodded. They forcefully grabbed the drunkard and dragged him out of the tent.

“Let me go, you arseholes! I’m going to murder you all! I’ll kill these two bitches first and then you are all next! You hear me?! You’re next!”

Unimpressed by his threat, the secretary returned to his desk.

“Fucking idiot,” he muttered, “does he even know how to do something other than fight?”

“Come on, don’t be like that,” another slaver advised with a half smile, amused by the scene. “Reed may be a fool, but he is quite capable during raids.”

“Then find him some village to raid, because in the meantime, I’m the one who needs to clean up his mess!”

The secretary clicked his tongue, letting himself sink into his chair before inspecting all the papers in front of him.

“Where was I?” he thought outloud. “Fuck. I need to sort out all those slaves before the next supply.”

“Hey, Eddie!” someone called him.

“What?”

“What about those two?”

Their eyes shifted in our direction as the secretary brought a palm to his neck, remembering the origin of the problem: us. His eyes hard and focused, he carefully studied us, trying to figure out what to do with us. I could tell that he wasn’t looking at us as fellow human beings, but as simple products to sell. Eventually, a loud sigh escaped his mouth.

“Such a waste… Put them with the others,” he ordered.

“Huh? You sure? They seem like they could fetch quite a lot.”

“You have enough on our hands like that, we don’t need other insurgents.”

The other slaver tilted his head, not entirely convinced.

“If you say so…” he doubted. “Is it safe, though? They seem quite strong.”

“They are knee-high to a grasshopper, what do you think they can do?” the secretary pointed out, his eyes rolling. “They have the collars!”

“Well, they did defeat a few of our men. Have you seen Reed’s arm? It looked… necrotic.”

“Reed is a drunkard. Last time he fell and twisted his ankle, he couldn’t even tell until the next morning because that idiot was completely numb to pain.”

The slaver paused for a moment before an ironic smile broke onto his face.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

The matter closed, he moved towards us to grab our collar. Then, with a swift movement, he forced us to get up, easily lifting us both.

“Let’s go ladies!” he announced, all smiles. “Come with me, and don’t make a scene, alright?”

Completely inconsiderate of us, the slaver barely allowed our feet to touch the ground as he pulled our collars, leading the way further into the shelter. A few minutes later, we had reached the other side of the tent. But as soon as we crossed the exit, my stomach lurched, a nauseous smell assaulting my nose. By reflex, I tried to cover my nose. However, I soon remembered that my hands were tied behind my back. I tried to bear with it, but the scent was really nauseating. Even Cottontail couldn’t help but cringe at it. The slaver was the only one who didn’t seem to mind it, clearly already used to it.

In front of us, a few dozen slaves were all crammed together in a small pen, sitting and lying in their own feces and vomit.

“Don’t stop,” the slavers ordered, as he noticed our reluctance to advance any further.

He dragged us to the pen, opened the gate, and immediately threw us in.

“Stay here and don’t cause any trouble,” he instructed, before a smirk appeared on his face. “Don’t worry, you won’t stay there for too long!”

Seemingly enjoying the situation, the slaver shifted his attention to the slaves on the ground.

“New friends for you guys,” he scoffed, “but be careful of the furry one. She bites!”

As the slaver disappeared, returning to the tent, I couldn’t help but freeze on spot, completely grossed out by my surroundings.

Alright, Lynett. Calm down. Don’t forget why you’re here. It’s just poop, pee and vomit. Now is not the time to be a snob. Think about those poor people’s condition. Who cares about hygiene, right?

Trying not to think about where I was putting my feet, I used magic to burn the ropes off of my wrists and forced myself to move.

I am so going to throw these shoes away after this…

Around us, the slaves were completely devoid of any spirit. Most of them were alive -at least I think so- but none of them were moving. Those who weren’t sleeping were blankly staring forward, completely ignoring me. They were all in bad shape, though. Some were nothing but skin and bones while others had clear marks of physical abuse all over their body.

Great. So not only they beat them, but they also starve them? Those slavers are beyond redemption.

I looked all around me, trying to find someone who wasn’t completely dead inside.

“You're only children…” I suddenly heard someone speak up.

Turning to the direction of the voice, my eyes fell upon an injured man. His clothes weren’t as soiled as the others’, indicating that he hadn’t been there as long as them, but both his legs were severely injured, making him unable to stand up. I crouched down beside him, inspecting his open wounds. The blood was still fresh, the injuries were recent. And exposed like that, in such an unsanitary environment, they were going to get infected for sure.

“Don’t mind me, I’m fine,” the man assured with a smile as he saw me inspecting his legs.

“Did they do that to you?” I asked.

“No, I was bored so I did it to myself,” he joked. “It’s always been my dream to be a crippled, you see?”

“What did you do to piss them off?”

“Well, I might have sneaked into one of the slavers’ tent to choke them in their sleep. Their constant snoring was bothering me, you know?”

He tried to laugh, but with this many injuries, each one of his giggles brought pain. He couldn’t help but wince.

“You must be quite lively to still joke around like this,” I noted.

“Would you rather have me eat my own shit like the others?”

“…They eat their own shit?”

“Some do.”

I cringed.

“I think you’re fine the way you are.”

A smirk spread across his face.

“What about you, kids?” he inquired. “How did such children like you ended up here?”

I exchanged a quick glance with Cottontail before returning my attention to him.

“I insulted them, she kicked their ass.”

Cottontail nodded.

The stranger chortled. Then, he grabbed his sides, wincing from pain.

“Sorry,” I apologized, a little bit guilty of making him suffer.

“It’s fine,” he smiled, “if I’m going to die, I might as well laugh a little bit.”

He seemed quite tranquil with the idea of dying.

“You’re not injured enough to die.”

“Kid,” the stranger called, his smile not subsiding, “I’m sorry to destroy your optimism, but we are insurgents. We inspire rebellion. They’re not going to let us live.”

I stared at him silently for a few seconds. Unlike all the other slaves I met before, he wasn’t just smiling to reassure himself, he was genuinely at peace with his own situation. Even in this state, he didn’t seem miserable at all. I guess this is what people call having charisma. However, remembering my main objective, I soon broke eye-contact.

Whatever. Not your problem, Lynett, not your problem. Do not forget why you’re here.

“Do you know of a guy named Troy?” I asked, my eyes wandering around. “I thought I would find him here.”

“Troy?” the stranger furrowed. “Yeah, I do. Who doesn’t? Especially after all the fuss he’s made these past few weeks…”

He sighed plaintively, clearly not pleased to hear me mention Troy.

“That fool isn’t here,” he continued. “The slavers didn’t want to take the risk of another rebellion rising, so they kept him separated from the others.”

Great. So where is he, then?

The stranger fell silent, now displaying a hard expression.

“You don’t seem to hold him in high regards,” I commented. “Didn’t Troy start the rebellion? As an insurgent, I thought you would respect him a bit more.”

An ironic smile played on his lips.

“Respect?” he repeated. “Troy is nothing but a delirious fool who got dozens of us tortured by starting a stupid rebellion.”

I frowned.

“Stupid? Didn’t you rebel yourself?”

The stranger sighed.

“I rebelled because I’d rather die than have my free will stolen from me. And if I’m going to die, I might as well stir up trouble and bring as many of those shitty slavers as I can with me. But I certainly didn’t rebel because I believed in Troy’s stupid prophecy.”

I blinked at him several times before an amused smile stretched across my face at his words.

“What’s so funny?” the stranger inquired, noticing my sudden change of expression.

“So you’re not much of a believer, huh?”

“Well, I’m just not going to wait for the Gods to descend from their divine throne to save my mortal ass!”

A small chortle escaped my mouth.

“I like you!” I told him.

Taken aback by my sudden declaration, the stranger’s eyes widened. Then, a smug smile appeared on his face.

“I appreciate that, but I think you’re a bit young for me, kid,” he joked. “You also have an interesting choice of place to declare your love!”

I smirked.

“Yeah, I do find the sight and the scent of poop quite romantic.”

I marked a pause, staring at him.

“You’re pretty brave despite your circumstances, you take the matter in your own hands,” I continued with a more serious tone, “I like people like you.”

“Brave, huh?” the stranger repeated. “Some would say stupid.”

“Maybe, but it’s always better than doing nothing at all.”

At least, not everyone has the courage to try to change things. I certainly didn’t. Neither did most of those slaves. In a hopeless situation, it’s much easier to wallow in self-pity.

“Alright! I’ve changed my mind!” I declared as I got up. “What’s your name?”

The stranger gave me a half smile.

“Why? Are you going to write me a love letter?” he teased.

“Alright, quit it old man,” I tried to suppress a smile, “I’m serious.”

“Old man? Kids are so harsh these days. I’m still in my prime, you know?” he clarified. “Not even forty yet.”

“Fine, young man,” I patronized.

The ‘young man’ smirked.

“I’m Leven,” he finally introduced himself.

“Leven?”

I raised my eyes to the sky, as I thought about something.

“Weird?”

“No,” I shook my head, “interesting.”

“Interesting?” Leven raised an eyebrow.

I grinned.

“Did you know? Leven means ‘life’ in Dutch,” I explained.

Leven squinted his eyes, clearly not comprehending my words.

“In what?”

“It’s not your place to die yet, Leven.”

I placed my hands on his legs. Light erupted from my palm, startling the young man, as I let my mana flow in his body.

“What the-?!”

In a few seconds, the wounds on his legs closed, and the bruises on his body disappeared, leaving only blood trails as the last evidence of his previous state.

Leven inspected his body, completely dumbfounded. He palpated his face, his arm, his torso. Then, he pulled up his trousers, revealing his now completely healed legs. There was no trace of injuries left and the pain was gone.

“How…”

He looked up at me with bewildered eyes, slowly connecting the dots together.

“Do you want to stir up some more trouble with me, young man?” I proposed, giving him a meaningful look, as I extended my arm in front of me.

Leven blinked several times. Then, his brain having finally processed what I just said, a huge grin broke onto his face.

“Hell yeah!”

He took my hand and I helped him up.

“Perfect.”

With Troy nowhere to be found, I headed towards the pen’s entrance.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Leven advised as he saw me approaching the gate. “That gate is infused with magic, so if you touch it…”

I placed my palm on the gate and opened it.

“…Nevermind,” he finished.

Freedom!

Finally stepping outside the pen, I could feel a new breath of fresh air filling my lungs. Well, not exactly. The nauseous smell was still quite present, but mentally speaking, it was already a huge relief to leave that unsanitary place. Cottontail and Leven followed me outside the pen, leaving the gate opened behind them for the other slaves to leave. However, they didn’t budge, seemingly not even noticing they could now escape.

“Don’t mind them,” Leven said with a hard expression. “They’ll leave when they’re ready.”

If they’re ever ready…

The young man gave me a half smile, probably guessing what I was thinking, as he invited me to get moving.

Leaving the soulless slaves behind, we walked away from the pen.

“So, what are you planning to do now?” Leven asked with a bright smile, trying to lighten up the mood.

I cast my eyes up to the sky.

“Find their leader, I guess,” I responded.

“Sounds like a good plan,” Leven approved, although I’m not sure he said that seriously. “By the way, what should I call you?”

I shifted my gaze to Cottontail, who was still silently following from behind, without showing any signs of wanting to join the conversation.

“This is Cottontail,” I introduced, “she’s a bit reserved and not very talkative.”

“Hi!”

Leven raised a hand in a greeting gesture, a friendly smile on the face, but as I had expected, Cottontail did not react. She didn’t even give him a glance.

“A bit reserved, huh?” he repeated, emphasizing each word.

“Don’t take it to heart.”

“Alright, alright. What about you?”

“I’m Ail-”

Suddenly recalling that Troy had already spread my name around here, I stopped, not sure whether it was a good idea to use my real name anymore. However, as I thought about it, it didn’t seem like such a bad thing after all. I turned to Leven, who was still waiting for me to finish my sentence.

“I’m Aileen,” I finally introduced myself.

Leven flinched as I revealed my name. He stared at me for a few seconds, trying to read me, before a wry smile played on his lips.

“Well, I guess I’m going to hell.”