"Come on, I can walk on my own. Please just let me go."
Bork ignored Aras, kept a cold expression, and approached one of the tents. His boots, covered in wet mud, stepped into the tent.
"It could be much worse for you," he said to Aras, who looked at him with fear and confusion.
Bork released Aras, and Aras ran as fast as he could toward his sleeping mother. Bork disappeared, and where he had stood just moments earlier, something strange was lying on the ground.
Hmm? What is that? Aras thought.
He straightened up, took three steps forward, and bent over the mysterious object. It looked like a piece of candy wrapped in poorly crumpled foil.
Could that be chocolate? He wondered.
Aras threw the candy into his mouth. A wave of rot and disgust spread across his tongue. His back shivered with goosebumps. He spat it out immediately and rubbed his tongue.
"HAHAHA!! You idiot, why would you eat trash off the ground?", Khan said, laughing.
Aras heard his brother's loud laughter and turned around.
Angry, he said, "You were awake the whole time? Why didn't you tell me not to eat it?"
"It's way funnier this way!!", Khan replied while wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.
To his left, Senna, who had just gotten up, rubbed her right eye and massaged her neck.
She muttered, "Damn, my neck feels like a metal bar is stuck in it."
She looked over to her children and said, "Boys, where is your father?"
Aras suddenly jumped into her arms.
With tears in his eyes he said, "I just saw Baba locked in a cage. Those bad men hurt me, look!"
Aras pointed to the cut on his right cheek. Senna gently wiped the wound with her finger, kissed him on the forehead, and stood up. She looked once more at the boys.
"Wait here. I'm going to take a look around."
The ground was damp, the tent fabric fluttered in the wind. She slowly lifted the cloth flap and felt the warmth of sunlight on her skin. Blinded by the bright light, she stepped outside.
Where the hell are we? Was the first thought swirling in her mind.
Chains rattled ahead of her. Emaciated, half-naked people dragged wooden beams, shuffled across the dirt, and constructed new huts. To her right, the smell of smoke and grilled meat drifted in the air. An old woman crouched alone by a small fire, stirring a pot of meat stew. She was barely taller than a child, thin, with hollow cheeks and eyes that had seen more than her frail body ever could. The old woman took a sip from the pot and immediately winced.
"Ah… damn hot." she murmured.
She fanned herself quickly and shook her head as if trying to force the heat away. Senna approached her and offered her a tissue. The woman furrowed her brow, put the spoon down, and examined Senna.
"A tissue? What for?", she asked suspiciously.
"When I eat something hot or spicy, my nose sometimes runs. Maybe it's the same for you?", Senna replied.
The old woman lifted her chin slightly, snorted through one nostril, and showed Senna a perfectly clean nose.
"Nothing. See? You're a strange, pretty little thing, you know that?", she said.
Senna sighed. "May I sit with you?"
"Do what you like, girl," the old woman grumbled.
Senna sat down on a log across from her. Her gaze wandered into the bubbling pot. Broth, fat, and a half-cooked sheep's head floated in it. A shudder of disgust ran down her spine. She straightened again and looked at the woman.
"I'd like to know where we are. We had an accident recently, and everything feels so… foreign."
The old woman scratched her head, snorted softly, and stared briefly into the pot as if searching for answers inside it.
"Where exactly we are? Oh child… if only I knew. I just go where they tell me to go."
She placed a pipe between her teeth, took a drag, and exhaled smoke to the side.
"The only one who knows anything around here is the Master. Don't ask me how or why. I only know this is the Principality of Montedoro." She shrugged. "Ever since the civil war, everything's been chaos. The knights aren't what they used to be. All they care about now is hunting political enemies. None of them give a damn about justice anymore."
Senna grew thoughtful. The sweet scent on the wind momentarily masked the stench of blood, sweat, and iron. She placed her right hand on her chin.
Her thoughts drifted:
Montedoro? Doesn't sound German at all. More like Italian. But our flight didn't even go over Italy. And who are these knights? Do these people really live like it's the Middle Ages?
The old woman broke the silence.
"What's wrong, blue-eyes? Cat got your tongue?"
Senna blinked as though waking from a dream and quickly raised her hands.
"Oh, no, no. I was just… thinking."
Before she could finish, Khan's voice sounded from the right.
"Mama! Mama, come quick! They let Baba out!"
Senna whipped around, her heart pounding in her chest. In the next second she was already on her feet.
"Thank you… for the conversation."
The old woman raised an eyebrow and snorted.
"Yeah, yeah. Run along, pretty one."
A moment passed. Agit approached limping. The left side of his face was swollen blue, his right cheek split open, his lip cracked. A guard outside unlocked his shackles. As soon as the weight was gone, his wrists instinctively rotated, followed by a dull crack.
"Finally free," he groaned.
Aras ran toward him and clung to his leg. Agit stumbled but caught himself, lifting Aras into his arms. Senna stepped forward, looked at him for just a heartbeat, then slid her hand over his cheek, his shoulder, his chest. Only then did she hug and kiss him. The kiss tasted like blood, metallic and warm. Her face twisted instantly.
"Agit… what did they do to you?"
He forced a grin that immediately twisted with pain.
"Long story. Let's just say… I got myself a new job."
Senna blinked, confused.
"What are you talking about?"
His expression hardened. His voice lowered.
"Senna… we're not in Germany. Not even close. And these people… they mean it."
He set Aras down, placed a hand on Senna's back, and glanced around discreetly as if every ear nearby might be listening.
"I'm at my limit. Let's go inside. I'll tell you everything."
Five minutes later.
"They want you to fight for them?! Be their guard dog? Isn't it enough they tortured you?!"
Senna's voice grew too loud. Agit flinched, immediately pressing a finger to her lips.
"Psst. Not so loud." His eyes darted nervously to the tent entrance. "Do you want the whole damn camp to hear?"
Senna pulled back, crossed her arms, and glared at him.
"I can't believe you're even considering this."
Agit rubbed his forehead.
"You think I want this? If I refuse, we'll end up as slaves tomorrow. Or worse."
Senna said nothing. Her breathing turned shallow. Khan tugged on Agit's shirt.
"Baba? What do you mean slaves? That's only in stories no?"
Agit placed a hand on his head and forced his voice into something calm.
"Khan… listen. Take Aras and keep yourselves busy. Mama and Papa need to talk. Stay close, understand?"
Khan looked at Aras, a small grin forming.
"Okay, Baba. We'll find something."
Aras immediately frowned.
I've got a bad feeling… Khan's about to do something stupid again! he thought.
Five more minutes passed.
"Aras, look!" Khan's voice became quieter, almost conspiratorial. "There are other kids over there."
Aras followed his gaze. Behind the muddy ground, a bit away from the camp noise, stood a yellow tent sinking slightly into the earth like it belonged to no one. In front of it sat three children. Silent. Too silent. Aras swallowed.
"Are you sure we should go there? Baba said we should stay nearby."
Khan scoffed like the conversation was a waste of time.
"Aras, I'm right here. What are you scared of?"
"Don't act big," Aras muttered. "You're still just a kid too."
A dull klonk.
Khan tapped him on the head with his knuckles. Not hard, but annoying.
"Shut up and come."
He grabbed Aras by the arm and dragged him along, straight through the wet soil that squelched under every step.
"O-okay! Khan, slower! Wait for me!"
As they approached, the three children turned to face them simultaneously. The two boys seemed eight to ten years old, sitting in the muddy grass as if they'd been placed there. Between them knelt a much younger girl, maybe five or six, with a dirty face and dull hair. None of them spoke. None smiled.
"Hey!!", Khan shouted, far too loud for the camp's heavy atmosphere. "Me and my brother are new here! We were bored in the tent. Can we sit with ya?"
He jogged the last steps, half dragging Aras behind him. One of the boys lifted his head. Blond hair. Green eyes. His expression was empty and tired at the same time.
"Why?" His voice cracked slightly. "What do you want from us?"
Khan paused, confused.
"What we want?" He shrugged. "Nothing special. I just thought… we could spend some time together." His tone was innocent, almost childishly hopeful. "Everyone here is an adult," Khan continued. "You're the first ones our age that I've even seen."
The blond boy blinked slowly, without emotion. The girl crept closer to him, seeking shelter.
"Yeah… there aren't many kids here," the blond boy said flatly. "Most don't last long. Many die before they can even walk."
He didn't say it sadly. Not angrily. Just as if he were stating a fact. Then he examined Khan and Aras, his brows furrowing like he couldn't quite understand what he was seeing.
"You two… you don't look like us." A quiet breath. "Not like slaves." His gaze sharpened, cautious. "Why would you want anything to do with us?"
Khan dropped to the ground directly in front of him, barely an arm's length away. The little girl flinched and hid behind the blond boy's back.
"Listen..." Khan began, leaning slightly forward. "You're making this way more complicated than it needs to be." He eyed the blond boy up and down, tilting his head. "How old are you anyway? Fifty? You talk like you're my teacher."
The second boy, brown hair and yellow eyes, his face smudged with dirt, burst into laughter. He couldn't hold it in. Khan glanced at him and started grinning too.
"Hahaha! See? There we go."
He jumped back to his feet and held out his hand to the blond boy.
"I'm Khan. And you?"
The blond boy closed his eyes briefly, as if gathering his patience.
"Eww, Khan! Stop acting cool, you're being so embarrassing!"
Khan turned and tapped Aras on the head again.
"Shut up, Aras!"
The blond boy suddenly let out a small laugh.
"Hahaha… you two are pretty weird."
He wiped a tear from his left eye and extended his bony hand to Khan.
"I'm Leander. That's my little sister Lena… and that's our friend Mikael. Nice to meet you."
At the same time far away.
"So you want a friend, hm?"
The voice of an elegant woman echoed softly through a marble-tiled hall. She stood before an open window, hands folded behind her back. Her daughter clung to her dress, lips curled into a pout.
"Yes. But not just anyone." Her eyes sparkled. "I want someone… special. Someone who belongs only to me."
The woman turned toward her, knelt, and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Luna, why don't you choose someone of your own standing? The sons of the council families would be…"
"No." Luna's voice sharpened, almost defiant. "They're all the same. Boring and fake. I want someone different."
Her mother studied her for a moment. A slight but knowing smile formed on her lips. Then she stood, smoothed her dress, and placed a gentle hand on Luna's head.
"Very well. I will see… what I can do."
Luna smiled. A smile, far too mature for a child.
Chapter end.
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