Slave
The stench was overwhelming.
A thick, suffocating stink — like sweat, piss, and something worse. Something human. My stomach turned.
"Hey, you. Armor guy," I muttered.
He looked over, stood up, and walked toward me — slow, deliberate, like he had all the time in the world.
"I didn't do anything. Let me go," I said, voice low but steady.
He didn't respond. Just raised his gauntlet — and slammed it into my face.
Pain exploded in my skull. I hit the floor, and before I could breathe, he went lower.
A knee. A fist. Another hit.
Straight into my groin.
Over. And over. And over.
I screamed. Couldn't help it. My vision went white. My body folded in on itself like paper.
Pure, unfiltered agony.
I tried to fight back. My hands moved, but my body didn't follow. I was too weak. Too wrecked.
All I could do was lie there, twitching, choking on air.
The other prisoners?
Naked men, bruised and broken — they didn't even look at me.
They just stared into nothing, like their souls had already left.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I tried to be polite.
I really did.
Figured if I kept my head down, said the right words, maybe they'd let me go. Maybe there was a shred of decency left in this world.
But no.
No one gave a single f*ck.
Not the man in armor.
Not the other prisoners.
Not the gods.
After a few more hits — fists, boots, pain on top of pain — he leaned down, face cold and empty.
"Speak again, and I break your jaw.
You're a slave now."
…A slave?
That word.
It echoed in my head like a death sentence.
A pause.
A breath.
A crack in my mind.
Oh.
I see now.
I'm f*cked.
"Fourteen slaves," the armored man said, voice flat.
"All male. All mid-aged. Healthy, minor bruises. One's injured."
...He meant me.
Yeah, no shit I'm injured — I'm burning up from the inside.
Maybe toss me a potion, you assholes? Or just a f*cking wet rag?
A fat merchant scratched his chin, eyes never leaving us.
"Todd," he muttered, "you've been bringing in a lot lately. But after that last sale, I got into serious trouble."
"You're wanted now. Best I can offer you is five small silvers."
The man in armor — Todd, apparently — stared at him. Then at us.
Expression unreadable. Eyes dull.
"...Fine."
...I have no idea how much five small silvers are.
But I swear on my soul — that's cheap as hell.
They shoved us into cages.
Just like that. No names. No questions. Just clink — iron bars, cold steel, and zero f*cks given.
We're animals now.
Caged little freaks for sale.
Awesome. Totally what I envisioned when I got kicked out of the kingdom.
And hey — did I mention I'm starving?
Like, actually dying here. I'm a growing boy, damn it. I need food. Calories. Something that's not mold or air.
Also, I'm burning up.
Not in the sexy way.
In the "my immune system is waving a white flag" way.
Oh, and we're still naked.
Was that really necessary?
Would it kill someone to toss me a leaf? Just one. Something to cover the crown jewels?
No?
Cool.
The cage is tiny, by the way. Like, can't-stretch-my-legs tiny.
And it's freezing in here. Cold metal. Bare skin. Shivering like a junkie.
Why me?
No seriously.
Why. The f*ck. Me?