"Get up, slave boy!"A sharp crack of the whip echoed through the grim courtyard, its braids slicing the humid air. Each strike landed on a frail child sprawled in the dirt—his skin laced with deep gashes that oozed red. He had scarcely more flesh than bones, entirely naked but for the heavy, gray shackles at his ankles. Those shackles linked him to a chain of other emaciated captives in identical misery. "Who said you could rest?!"
Again, the snaking whips rained down, forcing the child to clench his jaw, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. Yet he uttered no sound, as if stifling his sobs was the only dignity left to him.
"Master, please... He will die!"
An older man—just as thin but with a hunched posture—dropped to his knees nearby. Despite wanting to shield the child's back with his own body, he was held in place by two burly guards. Beneath the layers of grime, his face bore a tortured expression, lips trembling as he uttered: