#Lore24 – Entry #125 – Muckenmyre Month #4 – Mayor Pleasence
From the journal of Takara, Slave Inquisitor of the Stellae Illustris.
I would find out after my awakening the following morning that I had been in the small room for a handful of days, that it was a bed in the town mayor’s home that I inhabited. Throughout my recovery, Satella dutifully tended to me as my strength slowly returned. During my stubborn insistence upon trying to care for myself, she was kind enough to let me try, and only stepped in once it was clear that I was still too weak to do more than walk about the room a time or two. My wounds were healing cleanly, in spite of several places that had become infected, and now that my bones were set properly, with the aid of her goddess, I could move my body again. Not normally, certainly, but that would return in time as I grew steadily stronger.
It was on the third day, late in the evening as the sun set, that I would finally meet the town mayor, Dannold Pleasence. Satella prepared dinner as I continued the exercises that had once been second nature, but now seemed so exhausting, when the mayor returned. As I would learn, he had been forced to leave town the day I had been brought in on some business to the north and had made the quick decision to allow Satella to use his home for my care. I listened as he spoke quietly to Satella about my condition, could smell the strong odor of the swamp upon him as his sweaty scent drifted through the door.
Much clearer of thought now that I had had time to process my situation, I wasted no more time and exited my room. My immediate impression of the mayor was that he was something of a dour man, his shaven head bearing a few battle scars, one in particular which had remained after a strike had nearly taken his left eye, from the crown of his head to his jaw, his skin sun-worn and rough from age and a hard life. He was in his middle years, but still had the strong body of a warrior and a laborer, and I saw his two-handed sword leaning in its scabbard by the outer door of the home.
As he turned to address me, I immediately dropped to my knees and prostrated myself before him, begging his forgiveness at having imposed myself upon him in such a way, to express my sincere sorrow that a lowly slave such as myself had inconvenienced him so, and to thank him profusely for his kindness and generosity. He was silent as I finished my outburst, but I dared not look up for fear of angering him, though I smelled a subtle change in his scent that told me he was more confused than anything, perhaps even embarrassed. I got the impression he had looked to Satella for guidance in how to respond, but I could not say what her look had been. I had done the same to her once I was strong enough, as was proper of a slave, but she had taken it in stride, insisting that it was no trouble, and for me not to worry myself over such things anymore.
After a long, awkward pause, the mayor finally managed to respond. “That’s quite enough of that, my dear,” he said. “You’re not in the Empire anymore, and I’ll not have that kind of behavior in my home, my town.” As he approached, I expected him to kick me, or perhaps yank my hair so that he could deliver a firm slap to my face. Instead, he guided me to my feet and brought me to the table in the dining area, even pulled the chair out and helped me to sit. I was a little taken aback by this, to say the least, being unaccustomed to such treatment.
Put somewhat off balance by this, my inquisitor’s instincts telling me to tread carefully for fear of a trap of some kind, I answered his questions honestly as Satella served our dinner, recounting why I had been aboard the doomed ship and what I recalled of my journey to Grimbridge. He did not pry into my past much at all, didn’t even ask me as to the nature of my spiked collar and cuffs. He knew I was a slave of course, but did not recognize the mark of the Stellae Illustris upon it; Satella had not mentioned it either, so perhaps they had no knowledge of what it meant? He honestly seemed more concerned over the state of my body. I assured him that Satella’s healing had worked well, and it was simply a matter of time before I was back to normal, but his concerns were of my old scars, specifically my slave brands, for they are upon both arms, and surrounded by deeper scarring.
My brands are not unique, certainly, but are rarer amongst the kerryn slaves given my nature as not only a slave trainer buy as an inquisitor. Most slaves will receive a magical brand upon the underside of their forearm marking them as property, showing who owns them at but a glance, given to them with little pain. Mine were done not with magic, but heated metal, burning my owner’s insignia upon my flesh. Some owners will still brand their slaves thusly if they have a taste for the sadistic. I’ve had many owners in my life, and each time requires the old brands to be removed by peeling away the flesh, regrowing it anew through magical healing, and then reapplying the brand. I hesitated to share this information, but for whatever reason, perhaps it was the compassion I felt from both he and Satella, I revealed the exact process, if not what it meant. Satella was not fazed by this revelation, though Mayor Pleasence was…horrified. My reassurances that such branding was not common did little to cure his unease, and I apologized immediately for upsetting him so; he barely touched his dinner after that, though he insisted that I had done nothing wrong.
He also insisted that an apology wasn’t needed, and that I wouldn’t need to worry about such treatment again. When I inquired as to why, he stated that winter was upon them, and that the seas would be dangerous to traverse, even this far south. Even if I wanted to return to the Empire, which, at the time, I certainly did, for it was my duty to serve the Emperor, may He live forever, I could not do so for several months, and it was his intention to teach me that kerryns were not slaves on this side of the world, whatever I may think of myself.
I could hardly believe it at that moment. Kerryns free? Not enslaved, as was proper? How could that even be possible? How could we be trusted with such freedom? Surely there must be some kind of restrictions placed upon us?
It made little sense to me. Seemed absolutely reckless, dangerous even.
Mayor Pleasence told me then that he would show me around town himself the following morning if Satella gave him the okay to do so. She had no objections, had even picked out some clothing that would be more appropriate for me to wear.
My introduction to this strange new land would come on the morrow, for better or for worse.
After dinner, when we had retired for the night, I held my collar again, ran my fingers over the rust-dulled spikes and thought of the Emperor, of home, of my life leading up to that fateful voyage to the Dragon Isles. I had no true friends; slave trainers such as myself had no kerryns who would willingly associate with us, save those who were made to study under us, and only then in for the hope of gaining some form of power over our lesser slave-kin, and we were but tools for our masters to use. None in the Inquisition would call me friend; ally, perhaps, but certainly not friend.
For the first time I began to have thoughts that would be considered treasonous for a Stellae Illustris, no, blasphemous, perhaps would be more accurate. Who was the Emperor if not our god, and how could we possibly consider a life without being in his service? How could a kerryn consider a life lived…free?
I did not sleep that night, did not realize that I had been so deep in thought until the first rays of the sun began to come through the window, the scent of early rain on the warm breeze that wafted through.