Tale of Four

Isis stared ahead at the Cras, the first of the Slaver cities she would cross. Looking at it from a distance, it didn’t look horrifying; instead, it was grand and oppressive. Seth had said the city was small compared to Danmor, and it made her wonder what Danmor would be like. Although the walls around the city were smaller than those of Tiree, they were thick and wider than any she had seen before. Behind it all, a grey city, filled to the brim with block-shaped buildings without colour or glamour, created for the sole purpose of service and nothing more. Tightly cramped together, with no easy movement and the sun’s light denied access, it became a labyrinth of grey, draining the colour from the lives of those within.

Surrounded by the grey labyrith, one sole beacon of colour stood, a large wooden tower, with a pointed top that reached for the sky, atop it a white crystal that caught the sunlight and changed how it was seen by the people below. Seth leaned over to Isis without a smile, staring at the wooden tower. "Terrible, isn’t it?"

"It’s..." Isis stared at the city as they inched closer, "Oddly well thought out." The grey sea of buildings surrounding the wooden tower told her more about what type of place it was without even stepping inside. "There are ways to destroy a person’s spirit without even lifting a hand."

"Beating a man into submission isn’t the only way, in fact, that is a kindness, because you at least feel soemthing. Here they crush people’s spirits until they know nothing but servitude, or nurture them from childhood so they know no other way of life." Seth said distastefully as a carriage approached from the other side of the road. Staring at it, she watched a group of armoured men wearing full plate armour, escorting a large carriage housing numerous people.

Their armour, grey like the buildings, bore no mark to distinguish them. The sole design on their armour was on the helmet, the mask covering their face, carved to picture a man with a blank expression, the face not beautiful nor ugly, but normal, one that would be lost in the crowd if one didn’t look for it. Inside the carriage, they escorted men and women, children and the elderly, who sat with equally hollowed looks, dressed in thin grey rags, without chains to bind them.

"They don’t chain them?" Isis looked to Seth, who stared at the transport.

"You think they aren’t chained." Indicating for her to look back, Isis saw what he meant and subconsciously pulled out her journal and pen, opening a fresh page.

’Hopelessness has become its own chain. The beauty of the world outside the walls of Cras, the green grass, the blue sky, the beaming sun. None of it is registered by them anymore; the grey of the city is all they know and all they will ever know.’

Isis stared at the man leading the carriage and continued to write.

’Nothing escapes its influence. The masters, dressed in grey with only the most minimal amount of gold and jewels on their bodies. The only thing to separate them truly is the fat on his body compared to his product.’

Isis shook her head and looked down at her navy dress, and wondered what it would be like to the people inside. Even Seth’s black butler uniform was likely a fresh colour in their lives. Shaking her head again, they silently sat, getting closer to the looming city. Paying the toll and passing the gate, Isis felt a chill in her body, a chill not brought from cold but a horror. The chill that could only come when one knew they entered a place that had seen the unspeakable.

Seth leaned closer to her, keeping a hand inside his blazer as they jumped out of the carriage, and Isis, with nothing else, clutched her journal, bringing it close to her heart, feeling her chest get tight. The freedom beyond the walls they had just had, the open land, the wind that endlessly travelled, the warmth of the sun, and the sound of nature were all gone.

The distance did no service to reality. Roads were so tight and compact that she felt trapped. The sole light on the dark streets came from the white crystal atop the tower that stole even the slightest bit of colour and warmth the sun could provide, turning it into a grey light. There was no wind, yet every step felt like a cold breeze hit her. Even her dress that sparkled under the sunlight looked dead, drained by the city. And behind it all, the faint humming, a sound so quiet one could hardly register it, but would slowly drive a person insane if they listened, all coming from the crystal atop the tower.

Isis instinctively took a step closer to Seth, looking at everything with a mixture of emotions she couldn’t explain. Horror, disgust, fear, hate, intrigue, suspense, wonder. It was a world that she had never known, one without colour even when colour existed. A world that oppressed and stripped someone of what made their life worth living, a world that turned people into shells of what a human should have been.

"This is." Her voice was quiet. Looking at the people of the streets, she could tell that many of them were here to buy and sell what they owned, jumping from one identical grey block to another. Behind them, hollowed faces of merchandise followed, failing to escape even when they were unbound. She could see these visitors, foreigners and merchants, all wore colour, but like her own dress, it didn’t register in her mind as anything other than a shade of grey.

"I told you we shouldn’t have come here, Isis. There’s nothing good about this place, and it only gets worse when we reach Danmor." Seth said in a soft voice, even the freedom he carried seemed stripped away.

’How can Danmor be worse than this?’ It was a question she could only ask herself, but one that brought about a morbid excitement. She had seen the Deadlands, she had spoken to murderers and rapists, and yet compared to them, Cras was worst, in a sophisticated way, built to maximise a subtle cruelty that one couldn’t put their finger on. If Danmor was the worst, she had to see it to understand how.

"Is there a way to talk to some of the slaves here?" Isis asked, getting a strange look from Seth.

"Isis, they don’t talk. I know you want to write their stories, but they don’t have any. Those who may have had one have been stripped of it by the city."

"Seth, I want to try. Otherwise, what is the point in coming here?" Staring at her, Seth groaned and thought for a moment.

"Only two types of slaves exist here that could potentially give you what you want. Pleasure slaves and household ones. But we could never speak to a household slave." Isis looked to the ground, hearing her opinion.

’A brothel. Would such a place even exist here?’ Looking back up at Seth, she smiled, "Take me to a brothel then." Seth groaned but nodded, making sure to keep Isis close, his eyes darting and scanning the street. Even if he knew they were safe, that no one would be crazy enough to sweep up a freeman off the street, he still couldn’t help but be wary, knowing it was different for her compared to him.

Isis said nothing, noticing his alertness, instead watching Cras as it was. Seeing the same grey soldiers patrolling the city in neat formation, the visitors showing what little emotion they could as they went between buildings, and the slaves toiling away at work. Seth expertly guided her through the labyrith as if he knew the place like the back of his hand, stopping outside one of the many grey blocks.

There were no signs or indication of what the building was, but pushing open the grey wooden door, the world changed, becoming one filled with aphrodisiacs, laughter, alcohol, drugs, sex and sweat. Colour returned to the world inside the building as red crystals hung around the room. Men and women, kept in perfect condition, approached different guests, their outfits thin, revealing as much skin as possible to be enticing without being completely nude. Isis was in a daze, seeing the old but familiar sight of her childhood, and looked around as Seth pulled her along.

"Man or woman?"

"What do you mean?" Isis asked, getting a roll of the eyes from Seth.

"Do you want a man or a woman?" Isis nodded and looked at the workers, who, despite the perfectly manufactured smiles, laughs, and looks they gave, hid an emptiness.

"Woman." Seth nodded and approached one with black hair and eyes. Speaking for a moment, he turned to Isis and nodded at her, getting the same manufactured smile in return before approaching. As she stepped closer to Isis, she pushed a hand through her hair as her other hand ran over her body. Bringing her face towards Isis, she planted a soft kiss on her lips before pulling away and grabbing her arm, dragging her to a room in the back.

Seth followed silently along, watching everything, his hand never leaving the inside of his blazer. Inside the room, the woman pulled Isis to the large bed and pushed her down on it, slowly getting down to begin.

"No." The woman didn’t understand, and Seth sighed, getting up.

"Stop." Saying in a language she could understand, the woman didn’t drop her smile and nodded, getting up and smiling. Looking around, Seth grabbed a seat and dragged it over before reaching into his bag and pulling out a pouch of coins. Taking two out, he handed them to the woman and took his own seat, staring at her.

"Neither she nor I want those services." Looking to Isis, he nodded, making her take her journal out, "Instead, she wishes to talk to you."

"Talk?" The woman’s voice was silky and mellow. Leaning forward, she stared at Isis with a smile that wasn’t real, pressing her breasts together with her arms, "I can do those services."