Slave Unbound

Chapter 1: The Parade Outside

Beyond the open window, the late summer air was thick with the sounds of the parade out in the city streets, voices cheering, minstrels playing, and a wild myriad of other noises as was usual for the sort of controlled bedlam that such a spectacle brings. In most cities, such a parade was reserved for very special occasions, the returning of knights or triumphant armies, royal processions, or a celebration of holiday. In this case, it was, in its way, something like all three, yet none of these things at all.

Down on all fours, scrubbing away at the large marble floor of the upper dining room, Leita listened to the sounds drifting in through the window with a mix of melancholy and excitement. It was hard not to catch the spirit of thrill carried by the music, the rush of the shouting voices, but such a thing was meant to be watched, not merely heard. She longed to rise and, at least, go to the window to look down upon it all, linger there and see what wonders might pass, but getting caught doing so could cost her more than it was worth.

The Baroness could be a very harsh woman, a woman who did not suffer well disobedience. Leita had been told to thoroughly scrub all the marble floors. So, here she was, knelt down with brush in hand, dress and stockings damp from wash-water and her own perspiration, diligently washing every inch of the floors. If the Baroness caught her not at work, she would most certainly be punished. So, she contented herself to just listen and imagine the parade, its sounds mixed with the sounds of her work and the jingling of the steel rings set into her collar and wrists as her arms worked the brush back and forth.

Born a slave, Leita had never known a time when she'd not worn bands of one form or another around her neck, wrists, and ankles. Perhaps, as a baby, she'd not, but her earliest memories were being taught her place as a slave, trained in the proper protocols and behavior, conditioned to obey. She had almost no memory of her parents, none at all of her father. She had the barest recollection of her mother, a slave herself, tending to her at her earliest ages. She'd been still just a child when she'd been purchased and taken away to some other place. Now, over a decade later, she could not picture any piece of her mother's face in her mind anymore. Only the most primal of memories remained, the feeling of security in her mother's arms, a certainty that her mother was gentle and loving, and the vague memory that she had her mother's dirty-blonde hair and misty grey eyes.

At that young age, she'd been purchased by Baron Graham Wilholme, a gift for his wife, the Baroness Farah Wilholme. Leita had been pretty even as a little girl, her eyes enigmatic and her face well formed. She was to be a house slave for the Baroness's estates here in Solace, the capital of the Karackan Empire. She'd served in the beginning mostly as just a 'fetch', running errands about the manor and tending to simple duties. She'd learned very quickly not to cross the Baroness or be rebellious. Whatever fire might have been in her in that youth was whipped out of her before the end of her first year of being owned by the Baron's wife.

The Baron himself spent little time at the estates, often abroad and traveling. He served the Duke as a sort of ambassador, always away on political business. In the last four years, Leita had only seen him a handful of times at all, most of those times at a distance. Some of the other slaves believed that his constant absence was a large part of why the Baroness was always so tyrannical, others said it was because the Baron was quite unfaithful during his travels. Leita believed that, while those things may have some foot in explaining the noblewoman's personality, the real reason why the Baroness was always so cross was because she was just a very mean and spiteful woman.

She seemed without much sense of compassion or humanity, more interested in her appearance and standing in society than being a decent person. She'd had slaves who had embarrassed her, in front of guests or in public, beaten horribly at best, slowly killed through torture at worst. Leita had received her share of beatings and punishments over the years, but had learned to be always careful, always be dutiful and diligent in her work and obedience. Because of that dedication, she'd earned a level of security, rarely put in positions where she might have an accident that could leave her horribly mutilated or dead as punishment.