Milly hesitated. Although she'd made decent progress so far, she was forced to take time out of her day to let her horse graze, since her supply of feed only lasted 3 days and she'd rather save it for the sparesely grassed areas of the pass. After returning from an unsuccessful hunt, she went over to the tree where her horse was tethered, furrowing her brow.

The smoke climbing towards the sky up ahead, signalled the presence of others on this route. No doubt just further up the trail, at the spot that she herself had planned to use for the night.

She tapped her sword just to make sure, checked the set of her leather armor and stretched. Better safe than sorry. You never knew what kind of shitbags you'd run into on the roads, and few travelled this path north. Most preferred the main road through the Capitol, even if it was roundabout.

This route was more direct, but also wrought with additional danger. She prepared herself for unpleasant company by loosening her sword in its sheath.

The crappy little bundle of rust wouldn't do her much good against plate armor, but if she was careful it would probably be good enough to stick in a few bandits before it broke.

No matter who was up ahead, Milly was confident enough to not dodge around them. As a kingdom trained knight, how could she not be? She was pretty sure she could handle just about anything short of Empire trained troops.

But ordinary roadside bandits wasn't even worth mentioning, although she did feel slightly uneasy at her lack of proper equipment. Foregoing her customary plate armor, she was also missing her trusty blade and shield.

Milly untied her horse, a brown gelding that suited her quite well, mounted it and rode along casually.

The road through the forested valley began tilting slowly upwards again as she neared the camping spot at the base of the next mountain she had to pass over. On both sides of the road, Milly heard the rustling of leaves, birdsong and the sounds of small animals scurrying underfoot as she clopped along the path.

Rounding the last bend before the campsite, Milly sighted something she did not like in the least. It was a large horse-drawn wagon with iron bars and little in the way of cover from the elements. The slaves inside were exposed in all their filth. Under such conditions, it was a miracle that any of them had survived the trek over the first mountain, but Milly supposed that the slavers knew how to keep their goods alive, if not in mint condition...

Resisting the urge to spit in disgust, she rode past the wagon towards the men sitting around a large campfire and drinking. One of the men, a burly man with thin, hay-like hair adorning an orange-red face, with a short moustache and narrow sinister eyes, rose to his feet at her approach and grinned, showing missing teeth.

”My my, if it ain't the little missy from before.” Tarke said, his gruff voice reminding her of mucus sliding slowly down a gravelly rock. She shuddered.

”Milly's my name, use it.” She replied stiffly, her hand hovering near the hilt of her sword.

”Ease off it, me broad! Come come, sit and have a bit of liquor.” The man laughed, patting his own dirty lap. The others also laughed. Milly narrowed her eyes at the uncouth bunch. Why was she even here, this wasn't a good idea. Even if she had to walk the mount during the night, she'd rather risk that than camping with these scumbags.

Everyone knew you couldn't trust slavers.

”I'm a knight in the employ of King Geopolde V of the Azure kingdom. You should do well to remember that.” At her sharp tone, the men laughed again.

”Out here, all alone, those titles mean fuck all. Come, we're all friends here no need to be so prickly. Sit down and have a swig with us why don't ya?” Tarke tried once again. Milly sighed.

This had been a stupid idea all along. She knew she was alone, and she wasn't wearing the knights armor, nor even the casual uniform. All she had was a rusty, probably brittle blade and this set of crappy old leather armor. Who was she kidding, these scumbags could smell it, her lies, her uncertainty. They were like rabid beasts able to smell fear a mile away.

She turned to leave.

”Wait wait!” Tarke called. ”Take a swig of dis. Real good stuff.” He said, throwing a half-empty bottle at her.

Unwilling to let the smelly brownish liquid hit her, she turned around to catch the bottle mid air with her dominant hand. Her sword hand. Cursing, she threw the bottle to the ground, once more turning to leave, but it was already too late.

She saw the wooden club heading straight for her head just a fraction too late to dodge it, then everything went black.

When Milly came to, the first thing she noticed was that she couldn't move much. That, and she hurt all over. She hurt in places that shouldn't hurt, and resisted the urge to cry out in rage.

Those fucking animals, she should have killed them back then, damned be her stupid Knight commander. He was dead now, along with his squad and the mages, and it was all thanks to these bastards.

Mission? What mission. It had been suicide. She wanted to cry, but fought against the tears. She felt disgusting, sullied and hurt. And she felt the dried blood between her legs. She'd been saving it for that special someone, and now...

Milly whimpered quietly.

She was no longer wearing the leather armor, only rags like the other slaves and it was cold. Dead eyes gazed at her from the other side of the slave wagon. Even they shied away from her. No doubt they had heard the men call her knight.

Perhaps they thought she got what she deserved. Perhaps they had enjoyed watching as the bandits raped her? Atleast she had been unconscious...

Surely that counted for something.

No, she couldn't think like that, she had to calm down and collect herself. But damn it her head hurt. Her whole body hurt.

Pain pounded through her skull in a steady rhythm. She focused on that rhythm, then began to concentrate. It was way past nightfall.

If she judged correctly, it was just a few hours before dawn.

Though Milly was still groggy and fog-brained, she squinted, peering through the bars of her little cage.

Two stood watch, the rest slept soundly, snoring away the stench of their sins. Loathe as she was to admit it, there was nothing she could do right now. She'd been beaten black and blue and was uncertain whether or not she could walk, let alone make a break for it, recapture her sword and slay the bastards.

She had to bide her time.

For now, she was a slave... just like that little girl they had hunted. Milly was 19, a prodigy that had advanced quickly through the ranks. She supposed it was in part thanks to her sisters reputation. She should've left the knights back then, and gone back with her sisters group instead... but it was too late now.

Balling her hands into fists, Milly settled down in a corner of the slave wagon and waited. Their time would come, even if she had to kill herself to ensure their deaths, it would be worth it to rid the world of scumbags like them.

If she ever made it out of this mess alive, Milly swore that she would never again help slavers. She would oppose them with all her might.

Even the king enjoyed slaves, endorsed their use... she felt disgusted with herself for ever having served such a man.

Glaring at the sun that slowly crested the horizon, she tightened her lips and began thinking of ways to escape, for there was no way in hell that she would let these pigs sell her as a slave.