The auction house was large and bustling, filled with the murmur of voices, shuffling feet, and the occasional clatter of coins. They were led backstage, where rows of slaves sat on the cold, hard floor, their faces tense and fearful, each waiting for a fate they could barely imagine.
"These are strong, sturdy males. They can work your fields, care for your horses, or even satisfy your… personal needs. Bidding starts at six gold coins." The auctioneer said, it was as though he was looking to sell cattle.
Voices rang out almost immediately.
" Seven gold coins!"
" Eight–eight gold coins!"
" Ten gold coins!"
" Twelve gold coins!"
Then there was silence.
Twelve gold coins… going… going… going… Gone!" The auctioneer's voice rang out from the stage.
"These ones are new and unbranded. Why are they here?" a guard asked, glancing down at them.
"Apparently the king is hosting a ball and a hunt afterward. He requested only untouched ones," another replied, shrugging.
'A hunt?' Elysia repeated in her head. So they would hunt them like animals, these people really had no compassion whatsoever.
A man approached, eyeing them with a disturbing interest. "A pity," he said as he came eye to eye with Elysia. She knew she was supposed to avoid eye contact with him but she couldn't bring herself to do it. He caught Elysia by the cheeks and squeezing hard as though to remind her who held power. She glared instinctively at him, defiance blazing in her eyes. He chuckled, clearly enjoying her discomfort. "How I would have loved to break you until you had no fight left."
The guard who had brought them stepped in, seizing the man's hand. "Don't damage the goods. The messenger will be here to pick them up soon." He turned to them sharply. "Sit!"
Reluctantly, they lowered themselves to the floor, keeping their eyes down. The two men lingered nearby, watching them like predators. A few minutes later, another guard arrived with three other young women, roughly their age, followed by a boy. Then came three children, their faces streaked with tears and harsh pink welts running down their hands and arms—evidence of recent beatings.
Elysia's stomach twisted at the sight, and she instinctively reached for Francesca's hand. Francesca squeezed back weakly, her eyes hollow. The children huddled together, shivering, trying to make themselves as small and invisible as possible.
The auctioneer's voice carried from the stage again.
"Next!"
Backstage, the sound echoed strangely against the stone walls. Elysia couldn't see the stage, but she could hear everything—the scrape of boots, a guard swearing under his breath, someone struggling.
Two new voices rose in panic. Boys, by the sound of it. One of them was crying openly. The other kept shouting something Elysia couldn't quite make out before a sharp crack cut him off.
A whip.
After that, the boy didn't shout anymore.
The auctioneer began listing things in that same bored tone he had used all afternoon. Age. Strength. Obedience. The words drifted back to them like smoke.
Then the bidding started.
Voices were raised,and there was murmuring. Someone in the crowd laughed. A few voices called numbers. It ended quickly.
A moment later there was more shuffling, a guard barking an order, and then silence again. Whoever had been sold was already gone.
Elysia felt her stomach twist.
Beside her, Francesca had stopped looking around entirely. She sat with her arms wrapped around herself, staring at the ground like if she looked up she might break.
More slaves were dragged past the doorway behind them. Elysia caught only a glimpse as they were taken toward the stage—two girls and an older man. One of the girls tried to pull away from the guard holding her arm. It didn't work instead it only earned her a slap that caused her head to turn sharply to the side. The guard leaned closer, whispered something in her ear and the woman went pale with fear and followed him to the stage without a fight.
Then the noise from the auction rose again. The same routine,followed by silence as the audience awaited the next product.
Then, after a while, something different happened.
Outside, hooves clattered against the stone courtyard. Not one horse. Several.
A carriage rolled in.
Even from backstage the sound was clear—the slow creak of wheels, harness chains rattling softly, horses snorting.
The guards nearby straightened almost immediately.
"That'll be him," one of them muttered.
"About time."
Elysia exchanged a quick look with Francesca.
A messenger from the palace.
The guards moved quickly after that.
"On your feet," one barked.
They were yanked up before anyone could move slowly. The children nearly fell trying to stand, their legs stiff from sitting so long. One of them wiped his nose with the back of his hand, still sniffling quietly.
They were pushed into a line and marched out of the dim backstage hall.
The courtyard light made Elysia squint for a moment.
A polished carriage waited near the gate, black wood shining faintly in the sun. A man sat inside, barely visible behind the open window. He didn't step out. He didn't need to.
One of the auction guards approached him with a small pouch.
Coins changed hands.
The messenger barely glanced at them, only leaning slightly out the window to look the line over the way someone might inspect livestock before buying it.
"Those ones?" he asked.
"Yes, sir."
He nodded once.
"Good. Bring them, we leave immediately."
That was it. No speech. No ceremony.
Just a purchase.
One of the man's guards hooked them up with a joint chain, lining them up behind his horses while dragging the other end of the chain along with him as he rode.
One guard rode behind them keeping them in check
Once the coachman snapped the reins of his horses and the messenger's carriage hurried along. The guard kicked his horse, forcing them to run after the speeding horses.
Compared to the last time they had travelled, Elysia knew walking would be more worse.
The road out of the market district was crowded, but people moved aside when they saw the carriage. Some stared openly at the small group walking behind it. Others pretended not to see anything at all.
Dust rose slowly under their feet.
The smallest child stumbled after just a few minutes. Elysia caught him before he fell completely, steadying him by the shoulder. He looked up at her with red, swollen eyes but didn't say anything.
Francesca walked close on Elysia's other side, silent as ever.
No one talked much. The guards made sure of that.
Every so often a horse snorted behind them, or a guard shifted in his saddle, reminding them they were being watched.
A few hours later, they were still walking. The children were visibly tired,they stumbled more often, their small bodies barely able to keep up with the relentless march.
Suddenly behind her, someone tripped.
There was a dull thud against the road.
Elysia turned her head sharply.
It was the little boy who had been walking just behind her,he was the last person bound to the chain. He couldn't have been more than six or seven. His knees had buckled beneath him, and now he lay curled slightly on the ground, coughing weakly.
"Get up!" one of the guards barked from horseback.
The boy tried but couldn't.
The guard yanked the chain, dragging his body while it was still on the ground. The little boy's screams filled the road. Elysia tried to help him up but she couldn't reach him.
The guard yanked the chain again.
The metal links scraped loudly against the stones as the boy's small body dragged across the road. Dust clung to his clothes, his heels carving thin lines into the dirt as he was pulled forward.
Another sharp scream tore from his throat.
It was the kind of sound that didn't belong in a child's mouth.
Elysia's heart lurched.
"Stop!" she shouted instinctively.
Francesca looked at her, her eyes held sadness in them. She knew that look but she just couldn't accept that there's nothing she could do.
The boy clawed weakly at the ground, trying to push himself up, but his arms shook too badly to hold his weight. Each jerk of the chain pulled him farther along the road.
"Please!" Elysia cried, stumbling toward him.
But the rope binding her wrists snapped tight when the line of prisoners moved forward, yanking her back into place. She stretched her arms as far as she could, fingers straining toward him.
Once again she couldn't reach.
"Just let me help him up!" she begged. "He can walk if you give him a moment!"
The guard didn't even slow his horse.
The chain jerked again.
The boy cried out, his voice breaking into ragged sobs as his body scraped across the rough ground.
Elysia tried to step out of line again, ignoring the rope biting into her wrists.
"Please!" she shouted desperately. "He's hurting!"
A whip cracked through the air.
The sound alone made several of the children flinch.
The lash struck across Elysia's back, stealing the breath from her lungs. She stumbled forward with a choked cry but still twisted around, trying to see the boy.
"Face forward," the guard from behind snapped.
Another pull of the chain.
The boy's screams grew weaker this time, turning into thin, broken whimpers.
"Someone help him…" Elysia whispered, her voice trembling. She looked around desperately, as if someone—anyone—might step in.
But the other prisoners kept their heads down including Francesa.
No one dared move.
She was mad at Francesca for not helping her, for giving up on the poor boy.
The guards rode on as though nothing unusual was happening.
Dust swirled around their feet as the march continued.
Elysia's chest felt tight, each breath shallow as she watched the boy being dragged behind the horse. His small body bounced weakly against the road with every step the animal took.
"Please get up," she whispered under her breath, even though he couldn't hear her. "Please… just get up."
For a moment, the boy tried.
His hands pressed faintly against the ground as if he wanted to push himself upright.
But the strength wasn't there.
Another jerk of the chain pulled him flat again.
His cries faded into hoarse, broken sounds.
Elysia felt tears blur her vision, but she refused to look away.
No one should die alone.
Not like this.
Gradually, the boy's voice grew quieter.
The whimpers stopped.
His body went slack, no longer struggling against the pull of the chain.
Still, the guard didn't stop.
Day turned to night, and the metal links kept scraping along the road, dragging the boy's silent body through the dust as the procession marched toward the palace.
Elysia slowed without realizing it, staring at him.
A sharp shove from behind forced her forward again.
"Keep moving," a guard barked.
Her legs obeyed, but her eyes lingered on the small, motionless figure being dragged along the road.
As though like a curse she sighted the palace large gates in a distance illuminated by the moonlight.
The guards quickened their pace as though eager to bring them to their fates.