He Without Name

Pain throbbed from his back as a sharp and quick breath came from the waking boy, groaning as he struggled to make sense of the event that transpired before he passed out. He remembers a lot of fear, being scared of something but knowing it had to happen, not too much after that the searing pain. He groaned as he slowly opened his eyes and looked about where ever he was, only to be met with heavy darkness, the sun blocked by something. As his eyes scanned and adjusted he felt a hard bump as he took notice he was moving, the bump made a noise of shifting chains as mutters and whimpers filled around him. The more his eyes adjusted his sight increased, the silhouettes that he thought to just be trees were people, each bound in chain as every last one of them was against the bars. Mutters that he didn't understand filled the small cage as he stood and looked around to find a familiar face but couldn't when a figure slowly stepped towards him. They seemed to be a few inches taller than himself as a face slowly became visible, A well-toned man who's skin showed he was accustomed to working his body past its limit on many occasions with a face as hard as his muscles were. He didn't show any glint of kindness before a soft smile broke the hardened mold that he had.

"You had us, worried kid! You've been asleep for almost three days and we all thought you dead but it seems that you're alive and kicking somehow huh?! From your expression, it seems you have no inkling of what just might be going on hm? Well truth be told you're life isn't looking so great right about now, welcome to the slave-trading business where the catch is we're the merchandise." His voice was rather smooth for someone who looked so rough. Gently the man placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled as he began to lead him over to the bars, their chains scraping against the wooden bottom of the cart. It was just the two of them away from the other groups of people, his head began to throb as pieces of his mind seemed scattered and missing as he rubbed his temple.

"My name is Ro, I have been in the slave trade since I was a kid. I've been in mines, I have been bought to fight, in this part of the world, anything can become of simple men like us. I'm not too sure who you were, what your name is, or anything but why don't you start with your name?" Name... what was his name? He knows he had one but every time he tries to remember his head screams in pain and something between his shoulder blades aches with a dull throb, a cold sweat began to bead as he rubbed his fingers against his palms. Name, name, name, what was his name, what's his name! He groaned before mumbling out tiredly,

"I-I don't remember, everything is fuzzy like looking through glasses that aren't meant for you..." Ro simply nodded as he leaned back. The man's face became a little puzzled as he rubbed the scruff on his chin and then fumbled his hair,

"Well, I can't call you nothing and even slaves have a name after all. Well you had a life before this one and you must have ran into some trouble that made it so you have no memory so what about... Ouro! Like the mythical creature Ouroboros, the snake that eats its own tail for eternity. I heard from a foreign man that it means eternity and rebirth and seeing as you have a blank slate I see it fitting as you've had a rebirth!" The blonde-haired man smiled at him as he thought about it for a moment and nodded,

"Ouroboros it is, Ouro for short. I like it, thank you for the name Ro for I shall cherish it. Gently he bowed to his new friend as Ouro took a deep breath and sighed, this was all so strange and new to him as if this was the opposite of whatever his life was before but it was to be accepted as the cage came to a sudden jolt, stopping and throwing everyone forward and the tarp removed. Ouro, shielded his eyes as he hissed, the bright sun stinging his eyes as he grumbled and looked around his environment. They were surrounded by woods with a patchy canopy, the sun shining down and glistening off a pond or lake from nearby, the sound of stone breaking, and the cracking of a whip drew his attention as he looked to what caused the noise. He saw a decent-sized hill with an opening to it, wooden beams stabilizing it and allowing for some safety, men pushing mine cars full of different minerals in them but mostly spirits stones. Spirit stones weren't only used to help (&#R(*# but also used to make pills, elixirs, and tame beasts. As Ouro remembered this he winced in pain as the word in his head seemed to redact itself but to him, it really didn't matter as everyone was ushered out of the cart rather quickly. All the slavers were dressed in all black, their faces covered and each wore turbans and talked in a language most didn't understand as they yelled and were belligerent. All of us stood there quietly as the yelling continued, the ensuing madness began to spread when finally a man stepped forward who actually looked like someone from $*(#Q(*. Ouro groaned again as he clenched his fists and took a deep breath as the man began to speak,

"You are all slaves and welcome to the mine, here you will mine spirit stones, metals and keep your damn mouth shut. You will be fed, you will do labor and if you work for us for twenty years then we will free you" Murmurs spread through the group of slaves as Ro looked towards Ouro, leaning down to him.

"Freedom little Bro! We only have to work here and then be free! We can have a family, live long lives! I am so excited!" He had a large ecstatic grin on his face as the man once more began to speak,

"Take up a pickaxe and head into the mines. We will discard your chains once you grab an ax and don't try anything. All my men are armed and know how to fight, best behave and not try stealing the merchandise else we will punish you" He nodded towards one of the slavers as he turned away, his silvery-white hair flicking to the side, his lanky body that was shorter than Ouro's made haste away from them as they were lead into the camp. Each slave was given a pickaxe and sent into the mines, Ro was before Ouro and was released as he was handed the tool. The slavers pointed to the mine and he walked in. Ouro was next, given the pick and sent into the mines, he was relieved the chains were released as he hurried after Ro, not wanting to lose sight of the only person he knew in the world.

This was the start of a very repetitive time, day after day was the same process. Wake up, fed the bread and gruel, head into the mine, swing the pick for six hours, take a break for lunch, finish eating, get back to work for another six hours, eat dinner, relax, go to bed then repeat. It was tedious and rather dull but what was a slave to do? The men who rebelled were quickly killed for trying to escape, kill other slaves, or picking a fight with a slaver. Time seemed to lose all meaning as after the first month it was engraved to his mind the process of the day, his relationship with Ro only grew stronger as they talked about life after being a slave, what they were going to do, what foods they were going to eat. Ro apparently wanted to be a blacksmith, he drew inspiration from once working as one in a different camp a few years back. Ouro wasn't sure what he wanted to do with his life but always felt like a piece of him was missing, like his past actually had meaning to him but everything was too far below the surface of his memories that he couldn't make sense of but he stopped caring about two months into working. Six months passed like an autumn breeze through the shedding trees, Ouro's hair had grown more grey, his body had grown stronger from the labor but his height and facial features remained the same besides the scruff of a patchy beard in need of being shaved.

Today seemed a little off to Ouro, an uneasy sat in his gut as he made his way into the mine and he began his digging. Strike after strike, an empty mind as he let his pick fall upon the hard stone, his instincts were going haywire as he tried to ignore him. They got annoying as he got frustrated and stuck hard against the stone with great strength as he hissed in anger, his pick striking through the rock and into an empty space, the stone giving way as it crumbled away and revealed a dimly lit cavern, his eyes adjusted to the darkness as he tipped his head to the side. Gears slowly turned in his head as he dropped the pick and ran to the entrance of the cave and grabbed a guard, shouting that he found something. Finally, he caught the attention of the silver-haired man as he came walking to Ouro.

"What are you on about boy?"

Ouro pointed down in the mine as he panted,

"I... I found some sort of... some type of ruin!" Ouro gulped as he took a deep breath and the man's face lit up with surprise as he quickly told the guards something and a group of them gathered and headed down with Ouro leading them. After they witnessed what Ouro was on about they lead him back to the silver-haired man, saying something to him for a bit as the man smiled and placed a hand on Ouro's shoulder.

"Outstanding, tell me your name boy if you have one. Someone who has found such an amazing thing deserves a reward after all" The man held a grin on his face as his words seemed genuine.

"Ouro, just Ouro" His voice was a little deeper thanks to inhaling dust but the man nodded,

"My name is Chang Lao, I assume you can read and write. I do know where I got you. From today on you will no longer be working in the mines but as my assistant, Guards. Take my new assistant to the bathhouse, let him bathe, feed him a decent meal then send him to my quarters. Mark off the entrance to that cave and let no slave in it"

A guard nodded as he was escorted away, an overwhelming amount of eyes on him when he saw Ro who had a hearty smile and clapped, shouting as well,

"Way to go Little bro! I am proud of you, good job little one!" Ouro couldn't help but smile as he heard the praise, smiling as he let the guards lead him towards the bathhouse. He was beaming with pride as everything seemed to be going his way for once, a smile on his face as he relaxed for once. It was the first time in the last six month, no more than that actually that he felt proud of himself. This feeling was nice, smiling as he stretched and popped his fingers.