"You're finally awake."
Heavy rain poured around him soaking his bulky, rough clothes until they clung to his skin. Isaiah blinked slowly, across him a pair of tired, fish-like eyes stared back. Its owner was in a rather poor state, he was bald save for an unkept, bushy stubble centered on his chin. Pale and feeble, his face matched the ragged clothes he was wearing.
"You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that ambush, same as me, and those idiots over there."
'Border, what border?'
Questions began to form from those exchange, but what truly startled Isaiah wasn't the question itself but the language that the man spoke in. After all, he spoke in a tongue so alien that he could not recognize it, yet somehow he could understand in a shocking, unsettling fluency. Almost as if it was his own tongue.
Was he dreaming? He had heard of how some dreams can become so real and his curiosity was roused at this rather realistic dream he was experiencing. The first thing he noticed of the man speaking to him was the poor way he was dressed. From top to bottom, he wore a very degrading wear. He had the makings of a beggar, yet wore clothes that beggars could not afford.
It reminded him of how medieval era peasants would be depicted wearing in many movies.
However, that was not all, for he was sitting on one end of a wooden cart, a cart that seemed like it wasn't meant for passenger transport with the lack of a proper seat, the rough and jagged nature of its wood which was filled with mold patches carrying the smell of blood and nature. Its owner must've been extremely stingy.
As he moved his eyes, he noticed the other idiots that the old man referred to. They were both asleep, their faces youthful but thin, and looked like they had just been beaten up with many bruises and cuts in the visible parts of their skin.
The carriage was moving in between a thick forest of tall brown trees. The carriage is pulled by a brown and black horse of medium size, driven by a man wearing a light fur coat. Behind them, walking not too far were two men of good physic, wearing a padded vest with chainmail armor for extra protection. Rain poured down, yet only one had his hood on, the other, a blond, strode on without a care in the world.
Isaiah was at a loss for thought. He couldn't make one cent on what was happening to him or the sights he had just seen. Thus he turned back to the old man who seemed to be waiting for this moment,
"Ahh, sir-"
"SO WIPE THOSE STUPID TEARS OF YOUR FACE!" The man's sudden roar made Isaiah jump, a sharp clang echoing from beneath him as his arm was pulled by something hard. He looked down, stomach clenching. To his horror, a black chain with strange markings covering his entire hand.
"Children these days, doing stupid things, and when it goes all wrong for them, they bawl their eyes out... Learn to grow some balls."
Isaiah felt a flush of confusion, what had he done to cause this man anger? But the chains, they felt alive, breathing down his neck.
"Ah sir, why am I chained like this..."
But instead of the old man giving his reply, the blonde walking from behind clicked his tongue,
"Tsk, tsk, what do we have here?" He began picking on his nose, "Goods shouldn't talk to each other, you know."
"And you should drop dead like the worthless pig you are!" The old man's voice dripped with raw malice and thick saliva.
"What was that?"
"Hans don't let his words get to you." The hooded man softly scolded his hotheaded comrade.
"Is there dung on your ears? Do you also have shit for brains? I said drop dead like the worthless pig you are!" The old man grinned smugly which made Han's veins twitch in irritation.
"Let him be, let's not make the same mistake again," Once more, his comrade tried to dissuade him from proceeding, but looked as if he couldn't be bothered too.
"You motherless pigs can all suck my big fat co-."
Hans threw the gauntlet he was wearing, "That does it. I'll rip your teeth off."
"Come at me!"
A sigh, the hooded guard shook his head giving up to trying to convince his comrade who leapt into the carriage and faced the old man.
The fight was a foregone conclusion, the old man could barely move from the tight reins nor could he even defend himself, yet Hans was armed and free to move as he wished. Despite that, the old man was still grinning smugly, as if he had a trump card waiting to be used.
But just as Hans readied his blow, Isaiah blurted. "Ah, sir..." Isaiah saw that Hans had some authority seeing that he was in a different position than they were, "Can-can you free me from these chains or something?
"What?" The blonde turned to Isaiah with an angry face, "What did you say?"
"Can you free me, from these chains... Like."
Hans blinked at Isaiah, his face was confused as if he just heard something he never thought he would hear. "W-why?" Even his voice sounded weird.
"I-I have my rights as a human being, and I w-would like to know what my crimes are and why am-am illegally and unhumanely-"
"Pfft. Ahahahahaahha!"
"Inhumanely..." Isaiah messed up trying to repeat his words as the sudden torrent of mockery caused his courage to falter. Their laughter has left him speechless, he looked away from them and stared into the ground, wishing he could just disappear.
"Ahahahahaha, did you hear what he said?" Despite their previous exchange of harsh language, Hans spoke at the old man like they were two drinking buddies hearing a dumb joke.
"I know right, kids are so stupid these days."
"Human rights he said, human rights!"
"What are those some kind of alcohol!?"
"Ahahahaha!"
Their laughter swelled, waking the two sleeping guys beside Isaiah and also drawing a glance from the driver. As the target of their mockeries, Isaiah felt shame burn through his face.
'I wish I could dig a hole and just die.' He closed his eyes as he waited for everything to just end. Soon enough, the old man and Hans dissolved to coughing fits from their laughter. Hans then turned to Isaiah before looking at the old man,
"Oi should I tell him?"
"What? I don't know, I am just a slave you're the guard here right?"
"Oh right, right... Okay, cough cough..." Hans took a deep breath and looked at Isaiah before gagging as if he just barely suppressed his urge to laugh once more, he placed his hand on his mouth before taking another deep breath, "Right... B-boy, do you not understand the situation you are in?"
His voice was thin, it felt as if he was about to laugh at any minute.
"Ah... No?" Isaiah looked around, "I am being held against my will-"
"Look," Hans interrupted, "You're a slave."
"A slave?"
"Yes..."
"A slave? But... But why, that's illegal."
"Well... I-I don't know why, I am just a guard here... Someone sold you somewhere, maybe your parents, or your siblings, or your lover, or your dog, or yourself... Someone did, who cares not my problem."
"But... But why am I a slave? This can't be real, like, like slavery is illegal, and this, chains, the clothes..." Isaiah became very confused, his mind was filled with so many things that he couldn't understand what was going on. The more he saw, the more questions piled up.
Isaiah turned to Hans with a confused but pleading face,
"Sir, please... You have to let me out, I did nothing wrong, I did..."
"Beat it, kid..." A rough voice from the front cut him off as the driver looked back, "And you Hans, get out of the carriage and start walking, the mansions just ahead of us. You don't want your pay cut, and don't talk to that guy, he's the special goods."
"Special goods? Ahhh, right right, I was told of something like that..." Hans then turned to Isaiah and roughly pushed him down by the shoulder to see the glowing chains behind his back. Isaiah protested but was ignored. "Tsk tsk tsk, what a big fish this guy is..." He scanned the arcane chains that covered Isaiah's wrist.
Their blue glow made his eyes glisten.
Hans took his hand out of Isaiah before leaping out of the carriage, rejoining his comrade in their march on the muddy road.
A myriad of questions swirled, unanswered. Isaiah turned to the two soldiers in the back, but found no courage to speak as they were too far. Looking at the old man, a quiet hostility settled between them, warning him off.
'That said...'
Hans had just stated that he was being sold as a slave. Considering that the old man and the two beside him were all chained one way or the other, plus the rather poor conditions they are in, his words found some merit. Indeed, being detained, whether illegal or not was not the problem at the moment, the problem was,
By who?
'Terrorist? Isis? No, why would I be in Syria? Perhaps the MILF, but they had agreements with the government. Terrorists aren't the only one who kidnaps people, so maybe a more secretive one?' But it was quite difficult to properly articulate his thoughts, considering the major lack of more 'modern' technology anywhere. 'Swords, and is that a spear... Also, I'm in a carriage? It doesn't look like one of those poor African terror groups, they have modern equipment regardless, where are the AKs?'
His mind began to ache, it was difficult trying to solve this problem for now without so much as an inkling of information. Thus he turned to the old man. Though his former confidence had been shattered by their mockery, if he wished to survive he must regather his strengths.
"Sir..." Isaiah's voice was weak and didn't reach the old man, "Sir... May I ask, where are we?"
For a while the old man only looked at Isaiah, but just as Isaiah was about to repeat his question the old man snorted, "Dachia."
"Dachia? You mean the Dutch Republic?" Isaiah tried to scour his memories of any news related to terrorism or disappearances in northern Europe.
"Dutch? No, no, Dachia,"
"Dachia?" No nation on Earth called itself Dachia, but there were more concerning thoughts, "Also, why are we being sold as slaves? Only North Korea would do something similar if we crossed their border, and maybe terrorist."
"Co-rewa? Look kid, stop asking questions no one knows, your making to difficult for me already!"
"I see... Then can you at least tell me where exactly are we going?"
"What!?" The old man's irritation flared, but he sighed upon seeing the naïve face Isaiah was making, "Well...There are plenty of places to sell slaves in Dachia, I can't really..." The man suddenly paused before gulping, his eyes were filled with fear but he suppressed it, and muttered, "Eisensarg huh... That old stone bastard of all places."
His voice was like paying reverence to a god. And as Isaiah turned around, he could see why.
He may not have understood what the name meant, but the word didn't sound pretty.
It was a mansion of grey stone, its three sprawling floors punctuated by many large unlit windows. A dark-purplish roof covered it, and at its very center, a tall tower housed a shiny brass bell, ominously ringing at a slow, steady pace, like a church's knell.
As they approached, the forest soon gave way to large plantations of wheat. Because it was night and the clouds covered the sky no one was present in the field. Sometimes, moonlight would penetrate thin layers of clouds and offer a glimpse of what hid underneath, and there Isiah saw a rather horrifying sight as he noticed that the scarecrows weren't made of hay but rather of real human beings.
He couldn't tell if they were alive or not but the savagery of the sight caused him to gulp out of fear
He looked away and turned to the floor.
He was at his wit's ends. He didn't know what was happening. Everything was too real for it to be a dream and he had so many questions that his mind was demanding answers from.
What was happening? Why was he chained by a strange chain? Why were the people around him in medieval-era clothing when normal cotton clothes would be far cheaper? Why was he in a carriage, and why was he being sold as a slave in this strange country called Dachia who could speak a strange language that he was somehow fluent with? And how come he couldn't translate some of the words the others spoke of?
Yet as the carriage came nearer and nearer to the mansion, Isaiah still could not find his answers, only more questions arrived. But it was too late to ask any questions, answers, it seemed, would be coming soon. Answers he would not like.
But he had no choice, and so resolved himself to see where this was heading. He knew that by remaining calm and collected, he could at least find a way out of this situation.