It was dark.
Huddled together in an attempt to share their body warmth, two mares shivered in the corner of the stygian room. The eldest of the mares did her best to calm down the younger one, but to no avail. The sobbing continued just as powerful in the dark room. Outside, the howling winds were tearing at the walls of the room, but whether it was an attempt to free the two, or in order to further destroy the lives of the two, was unknown.
Neither of the mares knew how much time had passed. It could have been mere seconds, or it could have been hours. All they saw was the darkness, all they heard was the howling of the wind, and all they felt was the cold, barely fought back by their shared body heat, and the occasional bump in the road.
Timidly, the younger spoke up, "W-why is he d-doing this to us?" The tears were still flowing from her eyes, but not quite as intensely as before. Surely, her sister would know. Why, she was the smartest pony she knew, and even their father had praised her knowledge. She had to know why they were in this carriage. The elder sighed loudly.
"I don't know," the elder sister spoke. "I simply don't know, dear Lavender." Lavender shook slightly as sobs wracked through her body.
"B-but why would h-he do this? What did we d-do that could have c-caused this?" Lavender inquired, tears matting her fur still. "Y-you helped him w-with nearly e-everything, Mint. He’d h-have to tell y-you! You have to k-know!”
Thorn Mint, the oldest of the sisters, didn’t answer, not even as the sobbing increased, but kept her forehooves around Lavender, hugging her tighter. Soon, Thorn Mint gave in and joined her sister’s sobbing.
The morning sun was shining down on the bazaar of Trottingham.
The mares were sleeping, having exhausted themselves with their meaningless sobbing. Didn’t matter much, even if it would change the slave master’s schedule slightly. He did have many goods to sell, but if those two mares kept crying, he might have to do something about it. Something slightly violent.
The thin slave master stood atop what would be the stage of his next sale, letting the chilly autumn breeze caress his brown fur and orange mane. He took a deep breath, and steadied his rapidly beating heart. He was about to sell some of the finest looking mares he had ever seen. Not just the crying ones, but nearly every mare was pleasing to the eye. Now to think of a good sales strategy. Maybe he could make some claims, like, “has never been touched intimately,” or “will guarantee complete satisfaction.” He couldn’t really know if that was the truth, but he did tell the boys to stay away from the mares. Didn’t want the price on those mares’ heads lowered by those moronic stallions’ brutish hooves. The other slaves were not as good-looking, some of them being sturdy males, but nearly all of them had some variation of natural charisma.
Shaking his head, the slave master continued his sweep of the stage, picking up any litter there might have been with his magic. The sweeping and cleaning continued until he was satisfied. Not a single leaf, piece of trash, or speck of dirt was left on his stage. Content with his litter-picking, he went to his supply caravan, and retrieved a mop and a bucket. He filled the bucket with water from one of the kegs in the caravan. Didn’t really matter if he used this water. He would be able to buy some more in town, no matter the outcome of the sales. Returning to the stage, he set upon cleaning it properly with water. After all, there was nothing worse than a dirty stage. It would scare the customers away quicker than a stampeding buffalo. Well, maybe not that quick, but it would lower the chance of a good sale significantly. He was, after all, the cleanest slave master in all of Equestria. Ponies from far and wide had bought his goods; and with his experience, he had learned that a clean stage meant extra profit as a reassurance of the quality of the goods. Therefore, he never let any of his colleagues touch the goods, made sure the goods were properly fed, and gave them a nice, long bath before being sold off to some noblepony, whether it be mare or stallion. It actually didn’t matter who the goods were sold to, as long as he got enough bits to sustain himself, his crew, and future goods. Preferably with some profit. Why else would he be doing this if not for profit?
Finally satisfied with the stage, he put away the mop and bucket and went to check if his goods were still in excellent condition.
A nearby bell tower chimed twelve times.
The crowd in front of the stage filled what they had called a bazaar a few hours ago. The sky was partially clouded, the sun warming everypony in it’s rays. The air was filled with the excited murmurs of the potential buyers, chattering about various thoughts, rumours, and simple talk. Many of the ponies in the faceless crowd sought to buy a new maid, or perhaps a stallion to work the fields. Others sought slaves who could satisfy certain needs. The slave master was preparing himself mentally, thinking his mantra over and over again: gain attention, start small, gain profit. Taking a few deep breaths, he went to the stage and started addressing the crowd.
“Guh-reetings fillies and gentlecolts!” he announced, his voice carrying across the plaza. “I come here, to you specifically, in order to sell these wondrous goods, but be aware that the prices may be slightly higher than last, for I have travelled further than before, covering more land than I ever have.” He paused. “Now, how about we ‘get this show on the road’, as they say?”
Three stallions went onto the stage, one of them in chains, all of them quite sturdy-looking. The one in shackles, an Earth pony, was left on the stage, as the two others left to make the next slave presentable. Some of the mares in the crowd gave a few whistles of approval. The slave had a deep brown coat and a light orange mane. Freckles adorned his face, but they only added more charm.
“As you can see,” the slave master started, “this stallion has quite the well-built body. He’ll be able to tend to your farms, or build the next addition to your house. And, as many of the mares here have confirmed, is quite the looker, too.” The mares of the crowd gave another round of applause and whistles. “Now, the initial price is five hundred and fifty bits-”
“I bid five hundred and fifty!” A mare’s voice called out from the crowd, cutting off the slave master.
“Six hundred bits!” another mare’s voice called out.
“Eight hundred bits!” a third voice yelled, this time a stallion’s.
“A thousand!” a fourth voice called. Once again, it was a mare.
“Twelve hundred!” the first voice screamed from the top of her lungs. The slave master gave a small smile. He hadn’t even needed to call out the new price, and the price had almost doubled already. If the price kept going higher, he might even get proper meals, instead of that awful porridge.
“Two thousand five hundred bits,” a new voice voice said loud enough for all to hear her voice. A blanket of silence quickly laid itself over the crowd, hindering others from bidding. None of the other bidders had thought of paying that, and the slave master practically dropped his jaw at the bid. Hadn’t thought someone would bid that much for this stallion. He turned to the stallion and saw his pale face.
“Well, bud, you heard the lady. So, unless we have any objections, this fine stallion will be sold to miss…” He motioned for the mare to give him her name. She told him in as low a voice as possible.
“Ah, Miss Leaf Glen.” The slave master cleared his voice, “This Earth pony stallion will be sold for the price of two thousand five hundred bits to Miss Leaf Glen here, going once!”
“Going twice!” He waited for another bid, but the crowd didn’t budge, none willing to sacrifice that much for this particular slave.
“And sold! Miss Leaf Glen” -the slave master levitated a scroll towards his latest customer- “please return to the carriage, where we’ll sort out the legal documents concerning the transfer of ownership.” A few groans could be heard from the crowd. “Why, fillies and gentlecolts, do you complain? Has it not always been a policy of mine to take care of the documents after every slave has been sold?” the slave master asked, well-knowing the answer. “Now!” he began in a booming voice. “Let’s continue this, shan’t we?”
The sun had nearly finished its route across the sky as the various businessponies started to place and light torches around the plaza. Though the sun wasn’t entirely gone, the torches helped lighting the area a bit more. The crowd was literally buzzing with excited chattering. There had been so many good slaves, some of them were even quite cheap, but no matter the cost, the slaves seemed to be worth the bits. Most had been sold as workers, but some had been sold as slaves who could satisfy their new masters in more ways than one. Nevertheless, the slave master was going to show the ace up his sleeve: those two beautiful mares. He could probably get quite a lot bits from these ponies if their previous offers were anything to go by.
With a smile, the slave master began, “Now, fillies and gentlecolts, I know you’ve spent quite a lot of money today, and I doubt many of you will be trotting away without a new addition to your small armies of slaves -” the crowd gave a hearty laugh “- but I am in the unfortunate situation, where I have to inform you that we still have two more slaves up for sale, fillies and gentlecolts.”
Sighing loudly, the slave master continued, “As I said, I know you’ve spent a good bit of your treasures on these wonderful slaves, but I do believe you’ll think twice before ignoring these stunning mares.” Motioning a hoof towards the back of the stage, two slavers moved towards their leader, two stunningly beautiful mares following them, both in shackles. One Earth pony, and one unicorn.
Although she had just been bathed, the unicorn mare’s light-grey coat was slightly matted underneath her eyes, suggesting she had let the water flow from her eyes. Her short deep purple mane, while previously being quite disheveled, had been brushed to perfectly accentuate her facial features. It was nothing fancy, but it did enhance her beauty. Her pale-yellow eyes, as enchanting as they were, were wide and slightly panicked. She feared what might happen, what would happen.
The Earth pony mare, on the other hand, seemed calm. Her eyes were glued onto a specific location, and they would not move. Her cream-coloured coat had been brushed to near-perfection, her purplish white mane flowing down the side of her face, covering one of her scarlet eyes. Her calm demeanor fooled no one. Every single pony knew exactly was running through her mind. How terrified she were and how her mind was overclocking, pushing itself to its limits in order to try and find a way to fix the situation.
Now that was the tricky question. Sure, the unicorn may have been stunningly beautiful, but Earth ponies had a far greater endurance, therefore being far better at working the fields, as well as various other menial tasks. Some would argue that the unicorn would be far better for pleasure, due to the sensitivity of their horns. Why unicorns had sensitive horns, nopony knew, but it was a well-known fact nonetheless. Some of the buyers even dared thinking they had enough bits to buy both of these mares, but then again… this was the stage of the most prestigious slave master in all of Equestria. Surely, the prices for these particular mares would be incredibly high, and it would probably only increase even higher in few seconds. Many of the buyers kept their mouths shut, waiting anxiously for the price. Others gave a few wolf-whistles, both mares and stallions alike. The two mares on the stage blushed slightly, and it only made them that much more uncomfortable.
“So!” the slave master began. “Although I regret this quite a lot, every show must come to an end. So I thought, why not end it with one last glorious sale? As you can see, fillies and gentlecolts, these two mares are now up for sale. To be honest with you, dear buyers, I actually considered keeping these for myself -” the crowd gave a light laugh, the two mares on stage freezing at the words, eyes widening further “- but, alas, it is not to be. You are in need of slaves, and I must be willing to sell them to you. If I wasn’t, then I wouldn’t have this business.” The slave master held a small pause, “Fillies and gentlecolts, the prices begin at one thousand bits for the Earth pony, and eleven hundred bits for the unicorn.”
The crowd gasped, the two mares’ eyes widening even further. Some of the potential buyers started arguing with each other. How could that be a fair starting price? It was absurd! It was a scam! It had to be! Why, the only reason he would want that much, would be if they were both beautiful (which they were) and untouched. And considering their looks, it seemed highly unlikely. The Earth pony looked strong enough to carry many foals, and the unicorn would probably also be able to do so soon. If the buyers were correct, then both of those mares would probably have lovers at whatever home they once had. Didn’t matter, though, as they still “fit the bill” as some said.
Clearing his voice, the slave master addressed the mass, “Let’s start with the unicorn. The price starts at eleven hundred bits.”
“I bid eleven hundred and fifty bits,” a young stallion’s voice called out.
Another stallion’s voice, this one grown gruff by time, yelled, “I bid thirteen hundred bits!”
“Fourteen hundred!” a mare’s voice called out.
“Fifteen hundred and fifty!” the first stallion called out again.
--The unicorn mare felt her eyes watering, small tears sliding down her cheeks, still not believing this was happening.
The Earth pony mare noticed the unicorn crying and moved to comfort her. “Hey,” she said.” It’s going to be okay, Lavender,” she cooed. “It’s going to be okay.”
Lavender tried to stop crying, but when she looked at the Earth pony, she saw only a sad smile and even more sorrowful eyes. “No, Thorn Mint,” she said. “No, it isn’t.”--
“Seventeen hundred!” the second stallion yelled.
“Nineteen hundred!” the mare screamed.
“Two thousand one hundred and fifty!” the first stallion yelled. To think he had even started yelling…
“Two thousand six hundred!” the second roared.
The mare kept quiet, suddenly not wanting the unicorn slave anymore.
“Three thousand bits!” the first stallion screamed at the top of his lungs.
“Bidders!” the slave master roared, interrupting any further bids. “Please approach the stage.”
Several groans, mutterings of swear words, and other colourful forms of language were elicited from the crowd, as two stallions moved through the crowd. One was shoving his way through, while the other tried not to bother other potential buyers in the crowd, muttering the occasional “sorry” as he made his way through. The mare didn’t bother to approach the stage. The price was already beyond what she could afford today. Maybe she’d get one another time.
In front of the crowd stood now a dark-grey unicorn with a neatly brushed coal-black mane, a constant scowl hardening his features, and a sandy-brown Earth pony with a slightly ruffled chocolate-brown mane, who found the ground quite interesting. Whenever his eyes fell upon the stallion standing beside him, though, his gaze would harden, a scowl appearing on his features. His gaze turned to the stage, softening considerably.
The two mares, however, didn’t budge under the gaze of the two stallions. They were still comforting each other, though the younger had finally calmed down. Her eyes, however, were still wet, her mind still distraught. She merely chose not to voice her concern, for she feared it may become truth if she did. She didn’t want it to happen, but she knew it would.
She didn’t want to be torn away from her sister.
The slave master cleared his voice once again, remembering himself to smoke his pipe less often. Didn’t do his throat any good. He began, “Stallions! Let’s continue the bids, shan’t we? As I recall, the latest bid was a whopping three thousand bits for this lovely unicorn.” He paused. “So, who made the last bid?” The brown stallion raised his hoof tentatively at first, but then he remembered who he was fighting. Reminded even further by that ugly smirk on the grey unicorn’s face, the stallion’s hoof rose far quicker than before, his expression hardening slightly by his new confidence.
“Ah, so you made the bid, yes?” the slave master confirmed. “Well, can I have your name then, good sir?”
“Trail Duster.”
“Wonderful. This unicorn mare will be sold to Mister Trail Duster for the price of three thousand bits, going once!” The silence in the crowd was nearly overwhelming. The poor unicorn mare nearly couldn’t handle it, her eyes almost spilling over with water.
“Going twice!” the slave master yelled.
“Three thousand two hundred bits!” the grey stallion roared with a smirk. The brown one grit his teeth, his scowl truly showing his hatred towards the dark stallion.
“Four thousand!” Trail Duster yelled, veins popping forth on his forehead. He wanted to buy both of these mares, but if the dark stallion would raise the price just as much for the Earth pony, then he didn’t know what to do. He wouldn’t have enough bits for both if the price went just as high for the Earth pony.
“Four thousand three hundred and fifty bits!” The dark stallion still smirked, quite content with his current bid. Surely, this foolish Earth pony stallion would know when to back down, and let the richer ponies have their way.
Oh, how wrong he was.
“Six thousand eight hundred and twenty-five bits!” the sandy-brown stallion returned, his eyes glowing with pure contempt. A gasp was heard from the crowd. That was a lot of money for a single slave. Either this “Trail Duster” was just a stubborn colt intending to prove himself , or he was incredibly stupid. The majority would bid on the latter.
The dark-grey stallion’s smirk faltered, and was soon replaced by a glower. Trail Duster liked that. He liked to see the grey stallion angry. It made him feel more alive. It was always felt good to tell your elders to go eat a rock or something like that. You could say he was a bit of a rebel, always one to go against tradition.
Not even his method of keeping slaves was traditional.
The dark-grey stallion stared at Trail Duster for some time. However, his hateful, crimson gaze soon turned to the unicorn mare, “To Tartarus with it.” The words were laced with poison not intended for the mare but the Earth pony stallion standing beside him.
The slave master gulped, not that he hadn’t seen something like this before, but because these situations always put him off. A few beads of sweat started to form on his forehead, “So, the unicorn mare will be sold to Mister Trail Duster for the new price of six thousand eight hundred and twenty-five bits. Going once!”
Nopony moved.
“Going twice!”
Not even a cricket made a sound.
“And sold! Mister Trail Duster, please return to the carriage, where we’ll sort out the documents pertaining the transfer of ownership.” A scroll levitated towards the brown stallion. Grabbing it with his mouth, the stallion gave a nod and put the scroll into his saddlebags. His attention returned to the stage, this time looking at the Earth pony mare, concern apparent in his eyes. What if he didn’t have enough for her as well? What if the dark-grey stallion started with an incredibly high bid? What if-
“Now!” the slave master said, unknowingly interrupting Trail Duster’s train of thoughts. “Let’s with the very last sale for today. The price for this Earth pony mare will start at one thousand bits.”
“I bid one thousand and fifty bits,” Trail Duster said.
“A thousand and two hundred bits,” the dark-grey stallion bid, smirking towards Trail Duster.
“One thousand five hundred bits!” a mare’s voice rang from the crowd.
“Two thousand bits!” a third stallion’s voice called from the hinder part of the crowd.
“Two thousand three hundred!” the dark-grey unicorn roared.
“Two thousand six hundred!” Trail Duster yelled, uncertainty shining in his eyes.
“Three thousand one hundred.” A smile formed on the dark-grey stallion’s face.
“T-three thousand f-five hundred,” Trail Duster said, his voice losing power as the inevitable happened.
“Four thousand bits,” the dark-grey stallion bid, his eyes positively glowing with mirth. A light chuckle escaped his throat, as the sandy-brown stallion’s eyes widened.
“I…” he stammered out. “I…”
The slave master quickly interrupted, “The current bid is four thousand bits, made by mister…”
“Lord Bitter Lemon,” the dark-grey unicorn sneered at the slave master, “and you will address me as such.”
“O-of course, Lord Bitter Lemon.” the slave master stammered. “T-the current bid is four thousand bits, made by… Lord Bitter Lemon. Does anypony wish to bid higher?”
Trail Duster stared at the dark-grey unicorn. He couldn’t compete with that! Not after spending nearly seven thousand bits on the unicorn mare. He could afford to spend another three thousand bits, but no more. If he did, then he’d have a loss, a high one at that. He couldn’t fight the dark-grey stallion anymore, the price too high. Maybe he could find a bit of solace, knowing he had acquired one more.
“The Earth pony mare will be sold for the price of four thousand bits to Lord Bitter Lemon. Going once!”
Silence reigned.
“Going twice!”
If one strained ones hearing, one might have been able to hear a faint sobbing.
“And sold! Lord Bitter Lemon” -the slave master levitated a scroll towards the dark-grey unicorn, which was violently snatched by Bitter Lemon’s magic field, disrupting the slave master’s- “p-please return to the carriage, where we’ll sort out the d-documents pertaining the transfer of ownership.” The slave master gulped, the feeling of Bitter Lemon’s magic violently overpowering his own still fresh. Not many Earth ponies and pegasi knew this, but a unicorn’s magical field was extremely sensitive to foreign stimuli. If the unicorn did not expect whatever happened, then it could hurt the unicorn’s magical ability. There’s nothing wrong with taking something from a unicorn’s magical field if they expect it, but it can have horrible consequences for the unicorn if something is snatched from their grasp, without their consent. As a fellow unicorn, Bitter Lemon should have been aware of this.
“F-fillies and gentlecolts!” the slave master began, still visibly shocked from Bitter Lemon’s snatching of the scroll. “The last s-slave has been sold, which means, you guessed, t-the sale is over!” He cleared his voice, trying to gain control over it again. “Thank you for joining us. New owners, please proceed to the carriage, so we can take care of all this legal hooey.” He finished his small speech with a hearty if nervous laugh, one the crowd gladly joined.
The stage was enveloped in darkness, as was the bazaar, as nobles and other buyers left with their newly bought slaves. Several were hurrying, intending to be inside their homes before curfew. Some had the luxury of carriages.
One of said carriages was driving away from the bazaar, it’s owner no longer needing to be there. He had gotten what he came for… well, nearly gotten what he came for. Trail Duster was still slightly irritated by the fact that Bitter Lemon had gotten the Earth pony mare. Not because he particularly needed an Earth pony, but… there was something about the way the two mares had been standing together. Maybe they were good friends, heck, maybe even relatives. They could have been sisters for all he knew, and that just made him feel worse about himself. He hadn’t meant to have the two mares part ways, especially not if they were sisters.
But then again, no one had said they were sisters. Maybe he was just over-analyzing the possibility of a bond between the two mares. Maybe they were just two slaves, both having the luck to be sold at the same time. Some luck they had.
He was probably just looking too much into it. They probably didn’t really know each other, and were just sold at the same time. He probably hadn’t broken a bond between two sisters.
Yet, he still felt like he had.
On the seat in front of him, the mare was sleeping. She had been crying heavily for some time, before finally giving into the warm embrace of sleep. Trail Duster had thrown a warm blanket over her prone form, trying his best to at least alleviate some of her sadness.
She didn’t smile in her sleep.
Another carriage was leaving the bazaar. The owner of this carriage, a certain stallion by the name of Bitter Lemon, was on his way back to his manor. While not entirely happy with his purchase, he was mildly content with the fact that he had possibly ruined Trail Duster’s day. The young fool his grand-nephew was. Oh well. When you try to change tradition, someone will kick you to the floor, and teach you the proper traditions, whether you like it or not.
The mare was lying in a cage behind the carriage. He wasn’t going to let some filthy Earth pony slave into his carriage. In fact, he wasn’t going to let any kind of slave into his carriage, no matter what race, species, or gender they may be, no matter how beautiful or handsome they may be.
Smirking, Bitter Lemon kicked the seat in front of him, the plush pillow flying off the seat. Leaning his lower body a bit further towards the seat, he kicked hard at the connection point between the floor of the carriage and the seat itself, revealing a hidden storage. The dark-grey unicorn rose from his seat, and walked towards the small, newly-revealed cache. Once at the storage, he let his magic roam, searching for a very special object within the cache. Returning to his seat, the grey stallion levitated a silver case out of the cache, opening it as it floated towards him. The stallion grabbed some of the contents in the case, a cigar and matchbox, and put the case on the seat. Levitating the cigar to his mouth, he pulled a match out of the matchbox and ignited the cigar, taking a deep whiff, feeling the smoke fill his lungs. He exhaled, a great cloud of smoke filling the carriage.
Chuckling, Bitter Lemon remembered his grand-nephew’s face when he had outbid him for the Earth pony mare.That shocked look, the one where he realised he didn’t have enough bits. It was glorious. Unfortunately, there was no way to immediately capture a moment. Perhaps like a painting, but quicker, somehow. Maybe… nah, he’d figure it out when was home, seated in his office, with a crackling fireplace. If he got home soon enough, he might even be able to make blueprints tonight.
Leaning into his seat, he took another whiff of the cigar, enjoying the feeling of smoke in his lungs. He gazed out of the window, reminding he had a new slave. Chuckling, he thought about all the fun he’d have with breaking her.
One of the wheels gave a high-pitched squeak as it turned.
Behind a certain carriage, Thorn Mint lay in a cage. A piece of stitched-together leather, draped over the cage, and a blanket, were all that was between her and the bitingly cold wind. She shivered, tightening her grip on the blanket, her body trying to keep the heat from disappearing. It wasn’t very effective.
As she tried to find sleep, her mind wandered to thoughts about Lavender. Her sister had been so scared of being sold to slavery, and not even Thorn Mint could remove her fear. It was as if a jagged, flesh-tearing collar had been fitted on her sister, and she could do nothing about it. She knew her sister had been hurt, heck, she had been hurt herself. But she had to stay strong for Lavender. She had to put on the stoic mask, embrace the pain her aching heart, and remove all trace of sadness. Something wet and slightly cold was sliding down her face.
She hadn’t been successful.
The tears continued to fall from her eyes, and soon, Thorn Mint’s mind gave in to the fatigue, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Author's Note
Pre-read by the wonderful Aburi.
Constructive criticism is welcome.
Rawr,
Spaslan.
The sun was shining brightly, greeting any and all and wishing them a most wondrous day. Birds chirped happily at the sun, expressing the delight of being in the its magnificent rays. A calm breeze moved various fallen leaves around, caressing them as they sought to return to their respective trees. Truly, Nature was careless and free.
Lavender wasn’t.
A collar had been fitted around her neck, courtesy of the slavers, and it threatened to bite into her skin. She tried to loosen it with her magic, but remembered the arcane nullifier on her horn. Basically, a nullifier was a ring which tightened an area on a unicorn’s horn. The pressure would cause great headache if the unicorn attempted to use magic, thereby removing any possibility of magic. Well, unless the unicorn had an exceptionally high pain tolerance. Then again, they would probably be soldiers instead of slaves if they had such a high tolerance to pain. At least her father had taught her that.
Lavender thought of all that had happened in the last twenty-four hours and shivered: she had been sold to slavers, who then cared for her if only to raise her monetary value. She had waited in horror for the slavers to pull her and her sister, Thorn Mint, up onto the stage. She had watched as her sister was removed from her. She had cried when she was placed in the carriage of her… master. It felt odd even thinking about that word. The thought that she would be living as a slave from now on was, of course, foreign as well. The world blurred slightly.
On the seat in front of her, Trail Duster was sleeping, his light snoring filling the carriage. It did nothing to calm her. Just the fact that she had been sleeping in the same… room? Yeah, the carriage could count as a room. Anyway, the fact that she had been sleeping in the same room as her new… master was frightening to her. He could have done whatever he wanted to with her while she slept! She would have been powerless to stop him from whatever he’d do! But… he hadn’t done anything. Well, except for the blanket lying on her prone body. He had probably laid that over her at some moment during the night.
Maybe he wasn’t as bad as she thought. True, Trail Duster had bought her with the intent of her being a slave, but he had looked so heartbroken when he couldn’t buy Thorn Mint as well. It was as if he knew that she and Lavender were siblings, and that he intended for them to stay together. Or maybe Lavender was just imagining things. Really? A noble who cared for his slaves? It was easier to find a minotaur riding a timberwolf playing a flute made of lead. That is to say, the chances were low, infinitesimally so.
The snoring stopped as Trail Duster started moving. His head rose slowly as Lavender lowered hers, pretending to still be asleep, her face turned towards him with one eye open. She hid her open eye behind one of her legs, of course. Trail Duster shook his head and smacked his lips. His green eyes roamed the inside of the carriage, never really focusing on anything.
Not until they fell on Lavender.
She could see his eyes widening slightly. She had seen that look in his eyes before. Well, not from him, but other stallions. Whenever they got that look they would act… odd. Her brain finally putting two and two together, her open eye started widening. Thoughts of possible scenarios were running through her mind at incredible speeds. Before she even knew it, she had hundreds of different, very possible, and some even scary, scenarios to choose from. She conjured up one action to another, always following small patterns and seeing new possibilities. Any and all she deemed unlikely were thrown away in an instant. What if he took advantage of her? What if he-
His gaze turned to the window.
Lavender let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. Her eyes relaxed as she exhaled through her nose. She kept her eye on him, though. If he did something, even just moved his head, then she’d know. She couldn’t afford to be incautious. She was far too vulnerable in her current position. If she kept her breathing even, pretended to be asleep, then maybe he wouldn’t do anything. Or the opposite could be true. Maybe she had to move, to “wake up”. Maybe he wouldn’t do anything if he knew she was awake and able to resist him. Maybe…
The carriage hit a bump on the road. Trail Duster leaned out of the window, probably to converse with the stallions pulling the carriage. Lavender caught few of the words being shouted through the air. It was something about time. Or maybe distance. She wasn’t quite sure. Time could be used to measure distance, after all.
Trail Duster sat down on his seat in the carriage once more. He turned his gaze towards Lavender once more. His eyes still had that odd look in them, but there was something else as well. His brows furrowed slightly. It almost looked like he was… nervous. Nervous for what? That she would fight back? For all he knew, she was still asleep, unable to fight back.
He leaned forward. Towards Lavender.
Everything slowed around her. She could feel the tensing of her muscles, the blood rushing through her veins. Her heartbeat seemed twice as fast as Trail Duster’s movements. Her open eye flickered about as she scanned the current environment. The doors were closed, of course. There was a window in each door, but she wouldn’t be able to reach either of them in time. She could push him out of the way, maybe force her way out the door… but what would that help? Her forelegs were still bound with rope, and the nullifier on her horn wouldn’t help much either. She’d not only need to pick the small lock on it, but she’d also need the safeword to disarm the ward placed on it. Impossible.
Trail Duster nudged her shoulder.
She screamed and fell from her seat. A small yelp of pain fled from her throat as she hit the floor of the carriage.
“Uhm…” he began slowly, “are you okay?”
“I, uh… I’m fine,” she stammered. “Could I… maybe get some fresh air? Stretch my legs?”
He gave her a smile. She didn’t fall for that smile of his. It felt too caring to be a real smile. “Sure.” He leaned out of the window to ask the one pulling the carriage to stop for a moment. The carriage stopped immediately. “Just… don’t go running of.”
She started inching her body further and further off the seat. As time went by, her legs were dangling awkwardly down the side of the couch. Her posterior had moved further down with the legs, her rear legs nearly touching the floor of the carriage. Just a bit more and she’d know freedom. Even if it was just a fool’s illusion.
“Wait a minute.”
Trail Duster’s words cut through the air, freezing the blood in Lavender’s body. She turned her head towards him, and her eyes widened once more that day. Between his jaws, nestled snugly in his grip, was a knife.
He had a knife... in his mouth.
Her breathing picked up again. She started moving her legs frantically, trying her best to get her hooves onto the floor, to run out immediately, to never look back. She could feel her lungs fill and empty quicker than she thought possible, yet she couldn’t find air to scream. It felt as if her voice had been caught in her throat, struggling to escape the confines of it’s fleshy walls.
“Welakfh,” he muttered, voice slurred by the blade in his mouth. “Ah’m owly gowwa cu’ ‘e wopes off.” She gave a small squeal of fear as he moved closer, but her legs stopped fighting. The blade came closer to her front legs, time passing by slower than she thought, as she watched the blade with fear. The blade creeped up to the rope keeping her legs hostage. With a swift movement of his neck, Trail Duster cut the rope in two.
“Ah’ll ha’ ‘o cu’ ‘e wopes dow’ dere, as well.” A small blush was visible on his features. Lavender’s tail tucked itself underneath her body, between her hind legs. “Id’ll be o’er soo’.”
Before she knew it, Trail Duster had cut the rope holding her last two legs. He put the knife back in it’s sheath, smacking his mouth a few times, face screwing up from the lingering taste of the hilt. A few moments passed before he said anything. Lavender waited.
“So,” he finally began. “Aren’t you going to stretch your legs?” A smile on his features. It was nice. “Just stay near the carriage, alright?”
Lavender gave him her word and exited the carriage. She stayed within a radius of a few meters from the carriage. She had given him her word, and she intended to keep it. After all, he had given her something invaluable.
He had given her freedom, even if it was naught but an illusion.
Lavender couldn’t believe her eyes.
In front of her was a mansion with walls painted a warm, brown colour. Many windows adorned the surface of it’s walls, an unknown amount of rooms, halls, and whatever Trail Duster had crammed into this house of his. The tile roof was a dark colour and seemed to glisten and shine in the afternoon sun. Each storey -all three of them- was separated by a layer of stone bricks, all of which had perfectly carved symbols in a symmetric pattern. Other than that, the mansion was actually quite plain, yet this somehow only magnified it’s splendor.
It was absolutely nothing like what she had expected.
“Thank you for the ride, Grey Tone.” Trail Duster voice cut Lavender out of her trance-like state of wonder. She looked towards Trail Duster and saw him conversing with the grey stallion who had pulled the carriage.
“Not a problem, Master Duster,” the stallion answered in a somewhat tired voice. “After all, ‘tis my duty, sir.”
“Would you please stop calling me ‘Master’? You’ve been living here for years now, Grey, and I’ve told you more times than twice that amount,” the beige stallion said exasperatedly.
“No can do, Master.” A frustrated sigh escaped from Trail Duster’s mouth. He walked over to Lavender and led her up to the double front doors of the mansion, a somewhat irritated look apparent on his face.
When they had reached small stairs up to the doors, though, Trail Duster’s eyes gained a glint of childish glee and giddiness. He ran up to the doors and waited for her there. Once Lavender had reached him, she saw a wide smile on his features, the childish glee still in his eyes. “Welcome…” he said, pausing for dramatic effect. “To your new home.”
The doors were thrown open as Trail Duster nearly bucked them of their hinges, the sound ricocheting of the walls, startling everypony near the entrance of the mansion. Five ponies rushed to entrance, befuddled by the thunderous crash. Trail Duster continued grinning, though with a small blush on his features.
It was a rather grand room, yes, but it wasn’t enormous. It didn’t exactly radiate the wealth Lavender had expected from Trail Duster. Considering the amount of bits he had dished out at the auction, she had expected him to live in a mansion, though maybe one thrice the size of this one. She acknowledged this, yet she couldn’t deny that the mansion had a certain charm. One which she believed to be the very turning point. What the building lacked in size, however, was wholly made up for in charm.
“Master Duster!” one of the ponies, a unicorn stallion, cried out. “Are you alright?”
“Relax, Silver Platter,” Trail Duster said nonchalantly. “After all, this isn’t the first time I’ve done something like this.”
Silver Platter sighed, his grey-coated hoof finding its way up to his forehead. “That may be, Master,” he started somewhat sternly, “but that does not mean you can just keep kicking the doors open. What if you one day hurt yourself, broke one of your legs, or broke your back, or-”
“Oh, calm down, Silva,” one of the mares, an orange-brown Earth pony, in the group said. “Is not like he’s dyin’ or anythin’.” A few of the ponies chuckled. Lavender didn’t.
“But what if he had hurt himself? The only one here with medical knowledge is Caduceus, and he’s busy enough with taking care of Scarlet Blossom as it is! So, no, Peelie, I won’t relax.” A snort of laughter escaped the other mare in the group.
A blush formed on her features. “I tol’ ya not ta call me that! Mah name’s -”
A rather loud cough cut “Peelie” off and caused everyone to look at the general direction of the sound, which, incidentally, was directly at Trail Duster. A mask of frustration covered his features, though his eyes twinkling with joy. “As I do believe we’ve covered,” he began with an aristocratic air not quite fitting him, “my health is perfectly fine, and I do not need such riff-raff as you to worry about it.” A small chuckle escaped his throat before he continued, “Now, hurry along and do your duties.”
And so, the ponies dispersed, but not before they gave a curt, little bow, some of them giggling or chuckling all the while. "Peelie" even gave a little "Aye aye, cap'n" before she went on her merry way back to what Lavender believed to be the kitchen, considering the lovely smells that emanated from there.
“Okay, so,” Trail Duster began as he walked up to the staircase at the left, “first off, lemme tell you about the three simple rules here.” He went up the staircase. “Rule number one: No one in this house is a slave. Everyone is considered an employee, and thereby has a considerate amount of personal freedom. The length of your employment, however, is until the moment that I, your employer, no longer require your services, whatever these may be.” When he’d reached the top of the stairs, he turned left. “Rule number two: Please refer to rule number one.” They continued onwards. “Rule number three: Should such an occasion occur to which rule number one is no longer applicable, please refer to rule number two.” He had a large, goofy grin on his face as he finished his small monologue.
Lavender wasn’t amused. She just wanted to be alone right now.
"But, seriously, everyone here gets payment for their services, though they tend to call it pocket money, for whatever reason." His smile faded into a smaller, more content one. He opened a door to his right. Lavender noticed they were in a rather large hallway. She hadn't really been paying attention to where they had been going Her mind lost in Trail Duster's monologue, she just followed the sound of his voice, hoping it wouldn't lead her astray. He beckoned for her to enter the room.
The walls were a soothing sky-blue. On the wall opposite the door was a window, the sun shining brightly through. To the right of the window was a small table and chair. To the left was a small bed, but a bed nonetheless. That was… unexpected. Considering the fact that she was just a slave now, she had expected something like a pile of hay to sleep on, just like her father had given his slaves. Beds, however, were a luxury most slaveholders kept to themselves, finding slaves far too insignificant for such luxurious items.
“So, I know the room probably isn’t like what you came from,” he began, “but I hope you find it to your liking.” There was that smile again. That small, slightly goofy smile that fit his features perfectly. For some reason, it brought a small flutter to Lavender’s chest. What the flutter meant, however, she did not know, so she did the most sensible thing she could. She ignored it.
“It’s… nice." Silence followed. "I don't know what else to say... Master." She cringed.
"Not you as well," he moaned. “Why do you all insist on calling me that? Just call me ‘Trail’, or ‘Duster’, or whatever. Anything but that.”
“I, uhm… very well.”
“Anyway,” he said, steering the conversation in another direction, “you probably want to be alone for a bit, right?” He gave a small chuckle before continuing, “That’s fine. Just take all the time you need to adjust.” Without another word, he excused himself from the room, closing the door behind him. The sunlight streaming from the window seemed to lose a bit of its shine because for the first time in many years, Lavender was truly alone.
A sniffle escaped Lavender’s throat. Her cheeks had already wetted from the tears falling from her eyes. Her legs seemed weaker than before, like they could buckle underneath her any moment now. She made her way onto the bed, completely ignoring its softness, and sobbed. Hours passed, and when she could cry no more, she felt the warm, ever familiar embrace of sleep.
The hallways were dark this night. It seemed Watcher hadn’t lit the torches yet. Trail Duster sighed and shook his head with a slight smile. Guess I have to do it myself, then. So here he was, tinderbox between his teeth, roaming the hallways and lighting every torch he came across. He had been rather quick about it as well, indeed, the only part he was missing was the servants’ quarters. But something stopped him while he lit the torches.
It was a muffled sobbing. From one of the rooms, of course.
So he went to the room in question. He didn’t enter, goodness no, but he did stand by the door, listening and wondering who was sobbing. Then, clear as daylight, it struck him. He should have known it immediately, great fool he was. It was the new servant - Lavender. He made a mental note, and continued lighting the torches. Once finished, Trail Duster went to the kitchen. He had to make sure Lavender felt welcome the next day, and who better to take care of that than the most homely of his servants?
Who better than Potato Peel?
Author's Note
This chapter has not received any editing other than me reading it through time and time again. Please do be a sport, and point out any errors you come across. Please? Pretty please with sugar, ice cream, and whipped cream on top?
And a side-note: My original plan was to release a chapter from both characters' viewpoints at the same time... but you can see how that turned out. Anyway, I'll return to Thorn Mint's chapter. Can bring a release date yet, but when have I ever done that?
Rawr,
Spaslan.
EDIT: Minor editting has happened. That is all, now move along.
