The Road to Arkosia (Ch2 - Part 3)

That afternoon, the ship finally arrived at the main port of Ashtrem[1], the capital of the Arkosia Empire. When Vermon left his ship, he tied Orb for the second time with ropes around his waist, thus giving him no chance to escape.

Vermon mounted his horse while Orb stood beside him, trying to explore the surroundings with difficulty. He could see the wharf of Ashtrem, the only point of contact with the outside world, crowded with all kinds of people: passengers wandering around, noisy sellers displaying their imported goods, and dockworkers unloading ships.

Orb had heard about the empire’s port a long time ago and learned that the port had two main sides: commercial one for goods and raw materials while the public one reserved for transporting passengers and their personal belongings.

Orb also had heard that although the Empire of Arkosia was isolated and hostile to its neighboring monarchies, many of the workers in the port and the residents of the central city adjacent to the port were known for having good knowledge of different languages ​​and cultures.

He found it astonishing to hear a group of Arkosians communicate with each other so naturally in different languages.

It was hard to believe because he also knew that no outsiders were allowed to enter the empire, and one of the reasons was the land emitting an overwhelming, deadly, and repellent black energy.

Some who attempted to trespass suffered bad fevers and horrific hallucinations, leading, in rare cases, to insanity and eventually death.

The empire erected an invisible wall to prevent its black energy from seeping outside its borders. As a result, no living being could enter except for citizens and slaves bearing the seal of Uthus on their bodies.

All this meant that Orb could easily enter the land owing to the seal on his hand. Feeling his bandaged hand for a moment, he was extremely bitter about the place and its people.

Orb walked with difficulty behind the horse and its owner, repeatedly tripping over stones and cracks in his way, but he never complained.

Meanwhile, Vermon avoided looking back and maintained a good upright posture that indicated his dominance and authority.

Shortly after leaving the port, a man riding a horse approached Vermon, and both began chatting on their way to the heart of the capital.

“Oh, Vermon! You have been away for a while! What have you brought to the empire this time?”

“A valuable trophy,” Vermon bragged without looking at Orb.

 “Oh! What makes him different from the last one?” the man asked, looking over his shoulder.

“Rebellious and bad-tempered.”

“Is that a good thing?” the man laughed.

“I will not get bored from now on,” Vermon smirked.

The man, looking serious, leaned toward Vermon. “I’m afraid he won’t survive, like the one before him,” he spoke with a lower voice.

Vermon finally looked over his shoulder, smiling. “It will be up to him,” he chuckled. “It would take him a lot of effort to stay alive!”

His companion refrained from commenting on the last part but soon began chatting about his kids for a while before he and Vermon parted ways.

Meanwhile, Orb remained silent, listening to the conversation of two arrogant beasts who seemed anything but intelligent.

They clearly enjoyed subjecting their slaves to humiliation and appalling forms of brutality.

Despite the blurry vision in Orb’s left eye, he could discern the blue uniform of his captor, his long black shoes, his great build, his thick waist-length braids, and the shiny silver ornaments attached to them.

He thought that such an appearance fitted Vermon’s savage nature, and he felt a tinge of despair due to his inability to run away from him.

“I thought—you didn’t want to draw attention to you—bringing a new slave into—your land,” Orb boldly mocked him, then released a cough, “What? —You couldn’t contain your childish—excitement?”

Vermon was in a good mood and listened patiently to Orb’s mocking words as he wheezed.

“Guess, no. I couldn’t!” Vermon finally giggled.

Orb was irritated by the tightness he felt in his chest, his inability to express himself fully, and the playful tone of his enemy, but in the end, said nothing.

* * *

By the time the two reached the city, it bothered Orb that people were bumping into him, and some were doing it on purpose to feel his body, see his face, or knock him to fall to the ground.

It seemed to Orb that it was normal to treat him as if he was part of the road they were walking, and it allowed them to hurt him and go unpunished.

Of course, it was obvious that he was an imported slave, tied by a rope and dragged across the city behind a powerful eminent master.

Orb getting thirsty, resisted the urge to tell his captor to stop and get some rest after leaving the port and walking for too long.

He was also worried by the thought of walking beside the horse to look for a water fountain, as he did not know how his captor would react if he told him.

When Orb constantly looked both ways, Vermon finally noticed.

“What’s wrong with you? What are you looking for?” he questioned.

“....”

Orb remained silent. His disregard for Vermon enraged him, as he never had an ill-mannered slave who would ignore his questions.

“Answer me when I’m talking to you!”

Orb again feigned indifference for some time, and Vermon chose to put up with his slave’s insolence for the time being until they came to the city square.

* * *

The place was spacious and open, and on its sides were so many fancy-looking black carriages with golden edges of different sizes to take up passengers.

There were bakery shops, meat markets, clothes stores, and a huge water fountain in the center. Orb’s attention was drawn to that magnificent stone fountain.

Suddenly, Orb cut the rope connecting him to Vermon with a blade he had stolen from Vermon’s bag without him noticing.

Then, he turned and hastily walked off in the opposite direction until he reached the fountain.

Orb forgot about the possible violence to which Vermon would subject him as he stood facing the fountain.

He was mesmerized by the details he could discern with one partially good eye: the pieces of blue-tinted glass at its edges, the glowing water flowing from the head of a giant beast painted in turquoise, and the shards of shiny glass that decorated its beak to reflect the glorious sunlight.

Vermon stopped his horse and watched Orb with a face twisted in silent rage. Unaware of Orb’s eye condition three days ago, Vermon initially thought that Orb needed the cane to support himself as he was sick and tired.

Then, when he found out that both eyes of his slave were damaged, he again mistakenly believed that the cane was to assist him in walking around.

Yet, Vermon could see right now that his supposedly blind slave was walking without difficulty across the square, and save for his tripping over a stone twice; he found his way to the fountain without the help of a cane.

Vermon became confused and thought he should ask Orb about his eyes and the use of the old cane he had three days ago when he found him in Awa Temple.

I shouldn't dwell on the past, but what to do? I’m curious. That cunning bastard! He smirked.

The late discovery of Orb’s little transgression made Vermon determined to keep an eye out for further acts.

He neither tried to take back the stolen blade nor intervened right away.

When he decided to wait and observe Orb, he saw three familiar figures heading for the stone fountain.

“Talk about bad timing —damn!” he muttered in displeasure.

* * *