Cutting off another man’s balls was a deep step into the abyss. He actually had nightmares about it for days after. Still their wounds were healed by a wizard in the end. Apparently Teral’s were only healed so he wouldn’t die. His balls weren’t regrown.

He continued to train, he figured this was probably good enough for now. He was able to match with the other soldiers well enough he didn't feel embarrassed to call himself a soldier, at least by the standard of these guys. He could speak the language and read it to a point. He figured if he asked the Sage his questions the sage would finally answer them. Part of him dreaded those answers. He was in [hell] after all, which meant it probably was an impossible request.

His walk back from the training hall found ended at his room, the slightly nauseous feeling he had in the pit of his stomach vanished as he saw Sam waiting for him like usual in the room.

Sa’manatha waited alone in the room for him to return from practice with the guards. If he wasn’t learning to read with her he was always working out, moving his body, learning fighting skills. She knew this was a good thing, and most of the time she watched him do it. But lately she started to feel a little off when watching him work his body. He was built like one of the marble statues of the gods. She never really thought about how dirty most people were until she spent time with him and took to washing all the time. He was always clean. He’d wash in the morning and before coming to bed.

He slept in the nude. She knew that he didn’t want to have a child with her, so she honored his request. But she did indulge a little in his body when he was sleeping. She would run her hands over his taught stomach, caress his strong shoulders. She was tiny compared to him, even taking hold of his hands set her heart racing. She flushed thinking about how she would sometimes brush against his manhood when it was erect and he was asleep. She felt a strange yearning deep in the pit of her stomach and had a great deal of trouble sleeping with him. She talked to some of the other slaves about it, and was embarrassed to learn it was sexual desire she was feeling. A few of the other slaves, including some of the older women admitted to fantasizing about the huge young man taking them; while some faceless freeman pumped away trying to create a child. Rather than feeling jealous or possessive when she heard the others talk about him in this way, she felt oddly proud of him.

His name he actually never said. Nor would he introduce himself to others. She wasn’t sure if it was cultural or not. She suspected it was because of his irritation at his situation that he refused to speak even a little bit about himself. He never did. He never talked about the home he came from, or people left behind. He never talked about the magic or gods of his land. Nor did he ever explain how he was an adult and never held a sword before beyond saying his land did not use those for war.

She did wish he would simply take her and make a child already. She never thought of the act of making a child to be one to enjoy. It was just one more duty. But now she felt this urge and found fantasizing about it. She might have been a virgin, but she wasn’t ignorant to sex. Slaves were nude for a reason, the only way she could have remained ignorant this long would have been had she been blind and deaf. Humanity was dying. They needed as many babies as possible to keep the species alive. So men were encouraged to mate with female slaves whenever they felt the desire. Free women were little better off, only a half-step above slaves themselves. If they were married they didn’t have to worry about some random man mating with them. But if they were of age and unmarried, they could be claimed; unmarried pregnancies carried no stigma, humanity was that bad off.

Still none of this elevated her desire. A couple of weeks ago she even had the fairy girl teach her how to satisfy her own desires. Instead of helping it seemed to have made her even more turned on when she was around him. Nights became even harder for her to sleep through. She was glad he slept like a log, else he probably would throw her out. She knew for some reason he refused to mate with her, and her taking liberties with his body were crossing a line.

Today she crossed yet another line. He liked Curran, he would drink it over any other drink, even water. This wasn’t strange most people drank liquor over water, water could make you ill to drink, it was much safer drinking liquor. This was a known fact of the world. Still she had brought a pitcher into the room unasked and left it on a table for him. She had heard for one of the other slaves that men sometimes become amorous when they’re drunk. She hoped that was the case.

She almost jumped when he entered the room. He glanced at her and greeted her. “Good morning Sam”. She liked how he called her Sam. She never had a nickname before. She barely had a name at all. She had once asked him what it meant and he simply shrugged and said he simply shortened it. Raising her eyes to look at him her heart quickened. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, when he first came to this land he was already rather well built. But the constant working out had trimmed what little flesh he had on him away. His mussels were well defined; his waist was thin and small. He now had hair on his face, in the form of a well-trimmed beard. Between the dark thick beard the hair hanging loosely to his shoulders and his green eyes he was a sight which took her breath away.

She smiled to his greeting, blushing bright red, and pointed to the pitcher. “I got you something to drink if you're thirsty after all that work.” She tried to keep her tone polite and neutral. Hoping he didn’t think too much about it.

He smiled and nodded to her, his torso was covered in yellow and purple bruises. The layers of bruises caused him some trouble sometimes, though tonight he seemed fine with it. Standing there in his pants he took the leather boots off and set them by the door (this was a rule in this room; Footwear prohibited past the door), and sat down with a sigh at the table, drinking straight from the pitcher.

“You know it’s not [Molson], but this Curran isn’t too bad. What did you say it was made of?”

“Currah fruit mostly. I don’t know everything that’s in it. Want me to look it up for you?”

“No.”

Silence… as he drank front the pitcher then offered the pitcher to her. She took it and took a drink. Not too much. She wasn’t able to drink strong liquors like some of the men could. She needed to be alert in hope today will be the day. She handed the pitcher back and he drank again, then closed his eyes, for a moment. “You know, I guess it is entirely possible to get used to living in [Hell], as long as you can get used to the crushing immorality here, this isn’t as awful a way of life as I feared. I guess that means you can get used to anything.”

“What could we do to make it better?”

“Let me see the sky, feel the wind on my skin. Let me return home. Find me a place with no insects, [bedbugs] or crawlers. A [computer] with [internet] access would be nice. A six pack of [Molson Canadian]. Could you tell me if I can see home sometime in the future?”

She hesitated. She suspected the answer to this question, but she didn’t know it. She wasn’t technically his slave yet. She hadn’t told him about the white robe. She still was under orders not to talk about these things. “I cannot talk about it… but.” She held her hand out for the pitcher. “He handed it to her, he didn’t even look disappointed in her answer. He knew what it would be before asking. She drank deeply of the pitcher then passed it back to him.

“I can answer something else you once asked. You asked about this white robe.” He looked at her curiously. “First let me apologize. The robe was not my choice. I was ordered to wear it and ordered to tell you about it when you were ready to own me.”

“Wait” His curious expression had dissolved on those words.

“Please let me finish” She stopped him from saying more. He looked torn as to whether to comply for a moment then nodded.

“The White robe means YOU are in LOVE with ME. And want no other man from touching YOUR property.”

He closed his mouth, then closed his eyes and tilted his head back rocking back in the chair. He was silent for a moment, then spoke. “So now I own you?”

“Yes”

“What are the rules of this white robe? There is more to it than that?”

“Not really. Though it’s implied I am pregnant or about to become pregnant by you. It’s a sign you acknowledge the child as yours.”

“But I’m not in love with you and I do not want a child with you.”

She sighed feeling a pang of pain in her chest at the words she knew he’d speak. “I know.” She then took the robe off and placed it on the table. He had seen her nude enough, so he barely blinked with the action though he seemed to be thinking something. Suddenly some sort of understanding flashed in his eyes.

“Put it back on. You can continue to wear it.”

“But… if you aren’t trying to make a child with me this is technically illegal you know. This is only for making heirs. Making more children is… “ She clamped her mouth shut.

“Continue the thought, I’m your master now right? The orders you were under before no longer count”

She nodded feebly then continued speaking “Making children is a required duty of all humans.”

“Why?” He seemed much more interested now he knew he would get some answers.

She thought a moment then spoke slowly. “It was supposed to be the Sages job to tell you but you will learn shortly anyway. Mankind is cursed.” She tapped the crescent moon on her forehead. “This is part curse. Though ignore that, only some of humanity is cursed like this. ALL humans are cursed with or without this moon sign. We cannot enjoy the light of the sun. Nothing we cultivate will enjoy the light of the sun. There is a red veil over the sun. We are further cursed as the gods have threatened all other races of this world with similar retribution if they were to help mankind in anyway. With no sunlight, no crops, the free population of humanity plummeted. Some of the elders made the choice 1500 turns ago to sell most of humanity into slavery. Being a slave of another race would ensure the survival of humanity as a species. The remaining humans instituted laws to insure the continuation of the species. Humanity has scrapped by since. Somehow.”

She watched his face. He simply listened to the story, then he spoke “why did you summon me.”

She took a deep breath then spoke “There was a prophecy given. Understand humanity teeters on the edge of extinction. We’re a dying species. The prophecy spoke of our salvation and forgiveness coming from someone who was untouched by the curse.”

He sighed and laughed “Wait, that’s me right?” When she nodded he laughed again “So you summoned me here because I’m not cursed and some prophecy said someone like me would save these people? How am I supposed to remove a curse on a whole people? We don’t even have magic in the world I come from.”

She blinked at that “what?!”

“Yes, you heard me, no magic.”

“But one of the reasons why you were summoned was for your compatibility with elemental forces. This is the basics of being a good arch magician.”

He shrugged and with something akin to a bitter smile on his face he took a long swig of the jug. “And I guess there is no way to return me.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think they’ve investigated that”

“Of course. So you people ripped me from my life and world, my family, friends and future, on the words of some loon calling himself a prophet, hoping this is the way to make the prophecy real. You know, [cheat the system]. All you have for me is a cell with bugs and filth, and you can’t even reward me for saving your pathetic lives with a trip home? Have I summed this one up right?” His anger was obvious, his hand holding the handle of the jug was trembling, his eyes had a wild rage in them, that took her breath away.

Then the anger passed and his rage turned into a sad sounding laugh.

“Sorry Sam, I know this wasn’t your doing. There is no reason for me to be furious at you.” He finished the pitcher and then stood up holding out the white robe for her. “Wear it. You can claim my heart is yours for a little longer. Without it some other guy would be sticking his dick in you with or without your permission I’m sure. Afterall it's your duty” He said the last line with a voice dripping with sarcasm

Ignoring the robe in his hand she stood and hugged him burying her face his taught stomach. “I’m sorry.”

His big hand rested on her head. “Nothing to apologize for. Someone else played with both our lives.”