Alison tossed and turned from side to side, watching the sleepers and listening to their rhythmic breathing. After a duration she couldn't track, the sun's rays filtered through the cracks in the door, falling directly onto her reddened eyes.

  Her bones let out several cracks as she stood up slowly, wiping her face as if trying to slow the blood pumping through her veins to calm the small fire burning in her eyes. She waited for someone to wake, or for someone to come. After the sun had been up long enough for her to bite all her nails and stare at five different cracks in the wall for minutes on end, the door was flung wide open.

  The sleepers bolted upright.

  "Here they are." A guard swung a bag heavy with a mix of silver and bronze coins, gesturing with his hand as if displaying merchandise to a man.

  "Ew, they’re disgusting. But they’ll do; they look experienced." A one-eyed man pointed to his companions, who bore marks on their necks—the word "Enons" written in a faint script, darker than their skin tone.

  The slaves were led to another palace, and another hut. Along the way, Alison saw glimpses of her old village: children running through the alleys with their mothers chasing after them. But as soon as their eyes fell on the man with the eye patch, the children stopped, and their mothers pulled them away from him.

  "Hey Arnold, new slaves, huh?" A stout man, followed by two massive brutes, waved to the man with the patch.

  "Yes, they might find work in your yard," Arnold shouted back.

  "No problem," the stout man continued on his way.

  The alleys were not empty of the emaciated, who lay on the ground; Alison could clearly see their bones knocking together, perhaps from illness or the slight chill.

  The slaves were ushered into a corridor behind the palace that led underground.

  "Come on... let’s start the traditions." When they entered a room in the palace, a deputy for the Master held an iron rod that had been thrust into the charred wood of the fireplace. "Let’s start with him." Berthold was chosen as the first sacrificial lamb.

  Two henchmen grabbed Berthold’s arms and dragged him toward the deputy. Berthold screamed, throwing his weight back against them, but they weren't moved at all.

  "Hold him down." Arnold raised the rod; it emitted a faint steam and glowed a bright red.

  Alison noticed the henchmen’s eyes. They weren't looking at Berthold or the one-eyed man. Their eyes were hollow, as if their minds were merely tools for obeying what they heard.

  The henchmen pinned Berthold’s neck, and the rod approached it gradually. When it finally touched, a thick white steam rose along with a smell Alison knew all too well. The skin let out a loud hiss, like a dying snake, but the hiss wasn't the only sound; Berthold’s hoarse screaming was much louder, until the second henchman forced his jaw shut, leaving only a muffled whimper escaping through his teeth.

  Some slaves tried to back away, but the henchmen blocked their path. Sasha and Ivan stared at the ground like the others, but Alison remained still, watching the scene, her eyes focused on Arnold.

  The rod sank into Berthold’s neck as the one-eyed man pushed it right and left to make the name stand out.

  "Excellent. Now the rest." Arnold pulled the rod away, leaving a piece of Berthold’s skin stuck to it. Berthold collapsed to the ground, writhing and clutching his neck, gasping with every movement, tears streaming from his eyes. "Who wants to try next?"

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  No one moved.

  "Come on, bring that one." Another slave was led to Arnold to be marked.

  The process continued with screams of varying intensity until it was Alison’s turn.

  "Alright, little l-lamb, it’s your turn." Arnold pressed the rod—upon which the charred skin of the other slaves had already accumulated—against the bone above Alison’s collarbone.

  Alison closed her eyes so hard they felt pushed inward, and she clamped her lips until they turned white.

  As soon as Arnold let her go, she grabbed the bridge of her nose, covering her eyes as silent tears fell. She dropped to one knee.

  "Ugh... there are many of you, let’s hurry." Arnold finished the rest. Sasha rolled on the ground for minutes and crawled before sitting on her heels. Ivan screamed and lay on his side, covering his eyes.

  "You will go out and look for work. If you don't collect 3 silver pieces, you won't get any food. And if you collect less than 2, you’ll be whipped." Arnold returned the rod to the fireplace and dusted off his hands. "Go on, move out."

  The slaves were led outside, where they stood staring at each other.

  "Really... he’s just going to let us roam free?" a slave looked around.

  "At least we won't be working in the mine," Sasha wiped mucus from her nose with the hem of her shirt.

  The four began walking together while the rest dispersed throughout the village.

  "Yes, we’ll find work in the village and collect the money." Ivan was still clutching his neck.

  "What do you think, Alison?" Berthold turned to her, his voice hoarse.

  "Th-there must b-be..." Alison whispered, staring at the villagers walking in the opposite alley. "Th-there must b-be s-something." Her eyebrows knitted together.

  "Yes, it's suspicious," Berthold watched the passersby.

  "t-three s-silver p-pieces in a d-day," Alison ran her hand through her hair, covering her eyes. "A l-large am-mount."

  "Wait, did he say 3 silver?!" Berthold’s eyes widened. "It’s impossible to collect that much. Even if we find a job, they’ll pay us in bronze... damn them." Berthold stomped on the ground and stopped walking.

  "If only we could get rid of him," Sasha whispered.

  "What?"

  "If we got rid of that Master," Sasha explained, and as she spoke, someone a short distance behind them was watching.

  Alison covered Sasha’s mouth. "W-we are b-being w-watched."

  "Damn it," Berthold ground his teeth.

  The person who had been watching approached the four and looked at their necks.

  "You’re new slaves," the person smiled. "How about you work for me? I need assistants." He stared at Alison.

  "How much will you pay?" Berthold stood in front of him.

  "Oho! You’re the big boy, then. I’ll pay 3 silver for her. That’s a very large amount."

  "N-no," Alison said clearly.

  "No? Good luck finding work then... I’ll tell my neighbors about it... unless you change your mind."

  "N-no," Alison repeated.

  "What about you?" the person stared at Sasha.

  Sasha looked at the man for a few seconds.

  "N-no," Alison answered for her.

  "Yes... n-no," Sasha took a step back.

  "Pffft. What about you?" He directed the question to Ivan this time, his smile fading.

  "N-no."

  "And you, big boy?"

  "N-no."

  "Fine, fine." The man turned back toward his shop.

  The four watched him. He went inside, and through the window, it appeared as though he was talking to someone else. Seconds later, he and another man came out and started running toward the group.

  The team ran through the alleys together, and because the two men were stout, they lost them. Ivan tripped along the way, so Berthold went back and leaned him on his shoulder. They continued through the streets until they reached a massive building where loud cheering could be heard.

  "What is this place?" Ivan asked.

  "This is a fighting arena," Berthold replied. "I saw one once; they duel for money." Berthold’s eyebrows shot up as if something had clicked in his mind. "Why don't we participate? Collecting money is much easier this way."

  "B-bad i-idea." Alison watched the carved details in the limestone that formed the place.

  "Huh, bad idea?" Berthold’s tiny smile vanished completely.

  Alison shook her head. "Wh-what if we d-die? What if we are b-beaten until we c-can't w-work?"

  "True... but Alison, think carefully. We’ll be hit once or twice, but we’ll get used to it. And besides... we’re going to die sooner or later anyway. At least we’ll die as fighters." Berthold dug his nails—which still had charcoal under them—into his palm.

  "As y-you w-wish."

  "Trust me, I won't let you down." Berthold raised his fist.

  "Should we separate now or what?" Sasha exchanged looks with the others.

  "I think so," Ivan replied. "We'll look for work, and if we don't find any or something happens, we come back here."

  "Agreed."

  "Agreed."

  Alison settled for a nod. The four parted ways.