The castle walls

The next morning, the sun had barely risen when they came for them.

Moremi stirred awake to the clanking of chains and the stomping of boots. In no time, the small confinement room was swarming with guards shouting orders and dragging bodies to their feet.

What was going on?

They didn't explain. They never did.

Moremi, Amara, and the other girls were yanked up and forced out with the rest. Confusion hung heavy in the air. No one knew why. No one dared to ask.

Their wrists were bound behind their backs as they were herded like cattle through the slave establishment. The dirt was cold against Moremi's bare feet and her legs were sore. Thankfully for her, she had been able to get some good rest throughout yesterday, though, the same couldn't be said for Amara and the others who returned at night to the shed.

They had been bleeding due to the slave marks, imprinted on specific parts of their body. Amara didn't bother to say a word to Moremi when she was returned back as she'd been in too much pain. Her back had been marked, the blood staining her dress as the imprint clung to the gown.

Moremi was thrown off guard with this scene as she didn't think this was how slaves were 'prepared' for auctioning.

It appeared afterall, that being defiant had protected her from a much bigger despair.

----

They were dragged to an open field containing an unusual amount of wagons.

Dozens of them were lined up just outside the establishment's walls—large, wheeled cages mounted on wooden platforms, with iron bars for windows and rusted chains, dangling from their sides. Moremi's heart twisted at the sight. They were being taken somewhere, she was certain.

"This should be enough to convey a hundred slaves to the castle, Captain George." A man spoke. "Lord Louis had brought more in last night." Moremi turned her gaze to the men who spoke at the front and her eyes balled when she was met with the same warden, who had assaulted her, the previous morning.

Her body slightly jerked as she cowered from his sight but still tried to listen to what he said.

Captain George nodded, the two conversing in foreign tongue, "We should get there before noon as it is. We can't keep the prince waiting." He reminded, shoving his hands into his pocket in thought.

Then the next moment, he yelled out to the guards, "Quickly! Take 'em in. We've gotta get to the castle on time." He clapped his palms at them with urgency as the guards immediately began dragging their chains, leading them into the wagon.

Moremi's brows furrowed hearing the coversation as she tried to decipher the situation but she wasn't given time.

With haste, she was shoved into one of the wagons, alongside Amara and six others. The metal groaned shut behind them, and soon, the wheels began to creak, moving them.

Trudging along the cities where the white folks lived, Moremi saw a lot of things the farther they went.

They passed through dirt paths that widened into stone-paved roads.

Her forehead pressed against the bars of the window as she stared out, catching sight of everything — the villages, the plantations as well as the strange architecture of this new land.

The skies were wide and the trees different.

But the people…

Moremi blinked.

There were so many Black people. Not in chains, but laboring in open fields under the blistering sun. They looked thin and hunched, their backs bent as they picked crops, scrubbed floors, or carried logs like beasts of burden.

Children with swollen bellies, women with eyes dulled by exhaustion and men whose hands were more scar than skin.

Moremi even locked eyes with a few of the slave owners, dragging along her people in collars like they were dogs—a property they owned.

Her stomach turned as she stared at them with disgust.

She'd always wondered what happened to those taken. And now she knew. They were sold off to heartless people like these to be used.

As property.

Feeling a lump in her throat, rage bubbled within her. This wasn't just suffering—it was organized and designed. It looked like no white person she locked eyes with, was without a slave or tugging a collar with a black person.

Every road, every house, every inch of this land had been built on the backs of her people.

And the white devils? They walked freely—well-fed, well-dressed, laughing and living their lives like this was normal... as if the world was theirs. Because of them, her people had been reduced to tools.

Her fists clenched.

"This is how they built their kingdoms," Amara, who hadn't spoke since, suddenly muttered in agony, drawing Moremi's attention.

"By cheating us...working us like animals so they can live like gods." her tone was cracked and extremely low, like she was trying to speak despite the pains in her back.

Deep down, they wondered why all these slaves didn't just come together, considering their large number, and fight for themselves or attack their owners to regain their freedom but gazing at a deeper level, only those who passed through this torment knew what it felt like to be broken beyond repair.

"APPROACHING THE CASTLE GROUNDS!" A thunderous voice pulled them to reality as they looked over, noticing a few white men, dressed in large armour made of steel.

Moremi squinted her eyes at the sight as they drew closer.

Her body ached by the time they reached the outskirts of the city. The pain in her legs was sharp now, but she barely noticed. Her attention was fixed ahead—on the towering silhouette rising in the distance.

The castle of Valencia.

Even from far away, it was unlike anything she'd ever seen. Vast stone towers stretched into the clouds, crowned with silver spires, gleamed in the sunlight. Ivy curled along the outer walls, displaying carvings of mythical creatures.

The castle gates themselves were enormous, made of dark wood banded with gold, guarded by soldiers in gleaming armor.

Moremi stared at the knights, some mounted on white horses as they stopped their wagons to inspect.

A tall man alighted from his horse, walking forward, "From Lord Louis?" He asked the wagoner in a polished clipped tone, examining the slaves inside to see the man nod.

Turning to the other guards ahead, he shouted, "OPEN THE GATES! SLAVES FOR THE TOURNAMENT APPROACHING!"

The gate creaked open, its heavy wooden beams groaning as it swung outward.

For the tournament? Moremi and the others exchanged quiet glances as the large barrier was opened, allowing them into the castle.

Surrounding the wall sides were tall ancient oak trees, standing proud. They lined the path like royal watchmen, their leaves whispering in the breeze.

Flowers she'd never seen before bloomed in clusters along the castle perimeters. There were white roses, blood-red orchids, jasmine, spreading their scent into the morning air.

The grass was perfectly trimmed, fountains spilled water and birds fluttered through the trees, Moremi couldn't help but gape at them.

It was like something from a dream.

She sat back in the wagon, stunned.

They truly had kings? Princes and sacred grounds?

She imagined them as brutes—creatures without culture or spirit. But this…this was structured, beautiful and powerful, even though it appeared to be as a result of her people's labour.

She looked again at the knights guarding the gate, as they held held to a strapped belt, housing a sword by their waist.

They seemed more refined than the white men she'd met, since she was captured. Nothing about them looked local or bland as they behaved like trained men, similar to the ones back in her home.

And yet, they had turned her people into slaves.

Moremi's lips curled bitterly at the thought.

It broke her heart, realizing that even poised men like these could be monsters.

"Welcome to the castle, Lord Louis." Moremi heard someone speak as the wagons finally halted.

It was a knight with blonde hair as he bowed to the lord with obvious respect.

Moremi gazed, understanding that Lord Louis was higher in ranking to the knight. As a princess, she was aware what that entailed.

"Thank you, Sir John." Louis replied. "I believe the slaves would be blindfolded before being led to the arena?" He asked with raised brows and Sir John nodded.

"Yes, my lord." His answer was curt. "They'd be taken to the arena right after the final duel."

"Then we best get on with it, shan't we?" Louis said excitedly as he instructed some men to come forward with the blindfolds.

What...?

Blood drained from Moremi's face when she heard the conversation as she tried not to react while imagining what kind of trial was awaiting her.

The guardsmen walked to them with a coarse cloth, wrapping it around their eyes without warning.

She heard the others yelp and shift nervously behind her as their worlds turned dark when the cloth covered them.

However, before it got to her turn, she intertwined her hand with Amara's, the two holding each other's gazes shortly before nodding, as a kind of reassurance.

Moremi's breath hitched when the cloth covered her and darkness clouded her vision.

She could still hear faint murmurs from the background as they were yanked roughly by their chains, dragged towards a path she knew nothing of.

When they drew closer to the arena, her ear caught the loud clamouring of a crowd. She strained her ears initially to understand but it only grew louder and louder as they neared.

"Pull them into the arena!" A distinctive voice thundered and her body shivered from fear and anticipation, as they were led deeper into a pit.

Amara's hold tightened on hers when they suddenly felt as if they were inside a massive space.

There was a feeling of exposure around them as their blood dry feet clung to sand.

Thankfully, though, their blindfold was removed and they could finally get a glimpse of where they were.