As the rusty and crude chains shangled on the broken state ground, Harold covers his sister, shielding her from the many whips lashing towards them, trying to get them back into the line. Harold curses under his breath as he follows his father who is sheilding their mother, violent and grim thoughts rushing through his mind "FUCK! Cursed this damned place, they couldn't even let us off with dignity, that shitty townsmaster betrayed us and now we are stuck in this hell scape, I refuse for my family to be slaves, utterly disgusting." Thinking back, he hissed as the memories of his village being raided by the forces of Solas, as he and his father did everything they could with their own comrades, trying to hold them off, but it was no use. There was no point in trying to fight back anyway, Solas had possessed their Kingdom and sought out the traitors who still allied with the former king, including those even in the lower villages, which meant even him and his family weren't safe. "Cursed those wretches, if I had become a knight like my father none of this would have happened, at least few of us may have escaped and regrouped to organize a coup….actually on second thought" as Harold thought about it more the more hopeless he realized his situation really started to settle on him. It was nothing but a death wish to defy Solas now, so in other words, "we are…so screwed."
Entering past the onyx marble gates, he grimaces seeing the black armored guards, their gazes menacing. If their eyes didn't easily follow every slave that came to the compound, many would think they are statues. Harold quickly passed them, only to hear the screams of other slaves as they were violently stabbed by many spears for even the slightest of hindrances and mistakes. Harold clenched his teeth in furious rage "there is no way in hell this where I die, where we end up, I won't let it. If we can just think of…." but no matter how hard he thought, no matter how desperate he seemed, there was nowhere to escape to.
They made their way past the black brigades and the obsidian halls, to the marking section, the crimson color of heated metal pressed onto the frail bodies, scorching their skin leaving only bloody scars. As the markers drew closer to Harold and his family, the more anxious he became, the more fearful and protective he grew as well. In his ravenous mind, bloodlusted thoughts of his family going through such pain enveloped his mind, no matter what he couldn't let it happen, if he couldn't protect them here and now, what right could he have to call himself a man, much less a knight.
As it finally got to their turn, Harold instantly came in front of his family, his father and him shielding his mother and sister. His father grimaced "sir, is there any way you can mark my son and me with the marks of my wife and daughter." The guard looked at him with a dead pan expression, his eyes shining with nothing but disgust, as he promptly proceeded to slap Harold's father across the face, causing trickles of blood to seep from his father's mouth "Any request from a slave shall not and will not be tolerated, now please do not resist or-"
Suddenly, an old man in raggedy and soot filled clothes comes the guard, in a gentle and pleading matter he speaks in a gentle and hoarse voice "please give them a minute kind sir, you see we need some help in the kitchen unit these days and so his lordship has asked us to take the newcomers in, and as you know we cannot be seen with marks so…" The guard looks at him with a resentful expression, although he doesn't really object to it strangely, instead he simply unshackles Harold's family and lets them go with the bleak and weak old man.
Harold glanced at the old man, sort of suspiciously studying him. The old man looked frail, his glassy eyes sort of contrasting to his rough black hair, a black headband seemed to be loosely tied around his forehead as he smiles looking toward Harold and his family "oh you poor things, such strong and healthy people succumbing to the raids, if only this world wasn't so cruel we'd have a chance to build a strong community, come then let me show you…to your new home." Harold's father nodded as he thanked the old man, carrying his sister with him. Meanwhile Harold looked at the old man with even more suspicion, but mostly disdain "Home? Like hell I would let this be my home, no. I'm going to escape here with my family even if it kills me, well at least try and get sis and mom out of here.." remembering the promise he made to his father he grimaced as he quickly caught up with his father and the old man.
As they walked, the old man gave a quick tour around their living quarters, well if you could even call it that. It was placed at the outside as each house seemed like a mini and frail clay hut, soot and ash covering the ground as weak and impoverished men, women and children littered across the streets. The old man sighed as glanced at Harold "kind boy, don't mind these people, we haven't gotten a decent amount of rations for a few days so these folks are only waiting to get their rations." Harold scoffed as he looked around, seeing their starving faces only making him more sick "so we aren't even treated like human…what did i i even think, haven't yall done anything about it? Like come on you have so many people with you numbers you could demand some sort of pay back."
The old man stopped for a minute looking at him with a wistful expression, he sighs looking down a bit "we tried once…we never made that mistake again." This only enraged Harold more, but before he could refute his father stopped him slightly shaking his head "there's no point son…right now there really isn't anything we can do, for now we need to gather strength and see how to survive, we'll deal with the future later."
Harold looked at the both with a passive, but enraged expression, fury burning in his eyes. He couldn't accept a life like this, but to some sense it was the truth, he was powerless and forced to accept his fate…for now.
As he sighed nodding wishing he could say something arguable, a strange feeling made him shiver. He glanced around trying to get a sense of what it was, as he then looked, his eyes narrowed.
There sat a young boy covered in ash and dust with a pickaxe resting on his shoulder. Around his age, his white hair contrasted seamlessly with his black hair on the sides, his vermillion eyes glistened embers from time to time, his pale skin seemed to shine and darken at the same time, and as their gazes met he looked at the boy with a bit of disgusted expression, seeing him eat his fish sandwich so carelessly made Harold feel envious. He noticed the boy giving him studied glances from time to time, and being annoyed by this behavior he sighed and then went to him, his expression growing angrier and angrier, as he let out a strong scoff, he picked the boy up by one are slapping the sandwich away "yo weirdo, the fuck you lookign at.."