The night was dark and cold, and the jail cell would be even colder. Surrounded by three stone walls and sets of iron bars, and only a small window that lets cold air and moonlight enter on top of her. Monica Blackheart, the leader of Black Moon, hugged her knee tight as she tried to stave off the cold. The dusty rag full of mites and soot on top of her shoulder was uncomfortable and made her skin itch, but such treatment is to be expected for someone who have killed many. Thoughts of it being too light of a punishment crosses her mind every now and then.
"Get out! It's your turn to be questioned." A rough looking guard threw the door open, and it made her heart jump out of fear. She slowly stood up, and walked out of the barren cell. "I don't know why the young master from the Redfate family spared you, but be ready for the gallows." The guard's words was oozing with malice and hatred, and it sent chill down her spine. She closed her eyes as the guard shackled her arms with enchanted bronze cuffs, and roughly pushes her from behind.
The walk towards the interrogation room was deafeningly silent. If not for the guards' and her footsteps, she could probably hear her heart thump inside her chest. She had steeled herself for whatever punishment the kingdom will give her, but in her heart, she wished to at least see the face of her brother once more, even if it is when she walked to the gallows. "We're here." The guards stopped in front of a slightly rusted iron door. The door creaked loudly as rust hinders it from opening easily, and Monica was pushed into the room. Before the door closes, Monica saw one of the guard's hate-filled gaze as he spat on the ground, disgusted by her very being.
Her eyes had lost all hope as she walked towards the wooden chair. She sat down, her gaze fixed on her feet the entire time. "Monica Blackheart. Look at me." Monica slowly raised her head, as if it was filled with lead, and she was met with a pair of amber eyes. The boy sitting in front of her was not the captain of the guards, but Trace Redfate himself. Out of fear, her gaze shifted back to her feet. "Did you not hear me, Monica Blackheart? I told you to look at me." Again, she raised her head, high enough for her to look at him in the eye, but low enough to hide her terrified expression.
Trace straightened his posture, and folded his hands on top of the wooden table. "Well, it's fine. Now then..." Trace slid his hand under his coat, and took out a rather old parchment. Monica immediately recognized it, for it bears her fallen family's insignia. "It took me a lot of time and money to get my hands on this, so do me a favor, and read it out loud." Monica nodded, her neck stiff from fear and nervousness, and slowly reached out towards the parchment. She took it, and read the contents out loud as instructed. "Do you not want to avenge your family? If so, every full moon, go to the waterfall, where many Lion's Maw flowers grow. There, one of us will give you information regarding those that brings your family harm. I trust you are wise enough to know what you should do..."
Trace tapped his index finger on the table. Even though it was not loud, it was enough to make Monica to almost jump out of her chair. "The insignia was what instigated you, wasn't it?" Monica's eyes ran through the parchment once more, and nodded. "I see..." Again, Trace slid his hand underneath his coat, and took out another item. This time, it was a stamp. The stamp itself was not something out of the ordinary, but Monica recognized the insignia carved on the stamp. Trace picked up her change of expression, and sighed. "This little thing here cost me around 50 silver Sverd. Of course, I bought this from some... unsavory character." Trace put the stamp in front of her, and rested his elbow on the table, his hands folded and his chin resting on top of them. "Still believe that the one sending the letter is one of your clansmen?"
Monica's hands trembled as she put her left hand on her right arm. Her eyes were shut tight and her lips are trembling. "I... I thought... I really thought... that he was one of my father's underling..." Trace leaned forward, and asked in a low, but threatening tone. "Who?" Monica's lips trembled even more, and her mouth opens and closes like she was gasping for air. "R-Rigurl..." It was clear from her voice that she was on the verge of crying. Trace kept his gaze fixed on her for a while, and stood up from his chair. "Enough. Guards! Take her back to her cell." The iron door creaked open, revealing two guards behind it. Monica stood up, her chair creaked from her motion, and walked back to her cell.
Trace released a huge sigh and slumped, making his chair creak under him. Two knocks can be heard from behind the iron door before it opens. General Oliver walked into the room, and sat in front of Trace. "What do you think, Trace?" Trace grunted as he scratched his head, messing his hair. "The brave and stoic leader of the Black Moon is the real Monica, but the gullible and easily frightened girl is also Monica..." Trace sighed, and looked at the moon through the small gap on the wall. "She is a girl who held her belief close to her heart, but if someone pointed out the fault that she herself realized from the start, then everything crumbles easily."
General Oliver smiled, and shrugged his shoulders. "Then was that why you slandered Iris Windwalker?" Trace snorted, and waved his hand in a dismissing manner. "What, that haughty show-off? I hated her face the moment I saw her." Oliver looked at Trace for a while, before bursting in laughter. "You say some interesting things, Trace Redfate." Oliver stood up from his chair, and before he opened the door, he turned towards Trace one more time, and spoke in a joyful manner. "I suppose there will never be a dull moment if I am with you." Oliver opened the iron door, and walked away from the room, his footsteps echoed throughout the hall. Trace sighed once again, and rested his head on his hand. "But I want to live in peace..."
Morning came quick, and it was finally time for Monica and her followers to face judgement. All of them were gathered in the prison's courtyard, and all of them had a grim expression on their faces. Monica however, shows no sign of fear, unlike the night before. One belief that she held to her heart that cannot be broken was to set an example as a leader. Her heart was thumping out of her chest, her stomach stirred and her chest felt like it would burst open, but she still had a stoic expression. Everyone had butterfly in their stomach, their gaze fixated on a wooden drawbridge, waiting for it to be lowered. They knew that the next person that will come through that drawbridge will be the one that will decide their destiny.
"Lower the bridge!" The drawbridge was slowly lowered, and their heart thumps even faster than before. Time seems to slow down, as the drawbridge slowly lowered, uncovering the faces of those that will pass their judgement. The drawbridge stopped as it hit the gravel road with a loud thud, and several men riding on horses came inside the prison's courtyard. Among the men that came in, Monica can see two familiar faces, one was captain Rinea, the other was Trace Redfate. Trace Redfate jumped off his horse, and walked up a wooden platform, standing in the middle of two gallows. From underneath his coat, he produced two scrolls, and opened one.
"I will hereby pass your judgement. Monica Blackheart, along with her 43 followers. For the sin of killing countless innocent souls and harming the kingdom, you are given the death sentence." Despair spreads through Monica's followers. Monica however, still put up a brave front. Although she was trembling with fear, although her heart sinks, her expression remain unchanged. "Silence!" Trace's voice reverberates through the prison's courtyard, and everyone's attention snapped back to him. He calmly opened the other scroll, and spoke once more. "However, by the king's grace, he offered you another chance at life. If you truly reject death, then live your life as my dog. I will mark you as a slave, one who belongs to me, and I expect you to die when I told you to." Trace raised his arms to both side, a wicked smile on his face. "So what will it be? Die a man's death? Or die a dog's death?"
The ones gathered on the courtyard started to talk amongst themselves, and although normally the guards would stop them from talking, Trace signaled them to stay their hands. As the argument became more and more heated, a lone figure stood up from the ground. It was Monica Blackheart herself. She walked towards the platform, her steps filled with determination, and a new light can be seen in her eyes. The court was silent, and every one of her followers held their breath. Monica then stood in front of Trace, and knelt down in front of him. She removed her upper clothing, revealing her white, unblemished skin, a piece of thin fabric covering her breast.
"So you chose slavery over death?" Monica lowered her head even further, and spoke with determination and dignity. "If my death can bring the dead back to life, then I will choose the gallows. But even in death, I cannot atone for my sins. Therefore I will give you my life, and atone for everything. When the time I have to die comes, at least I can face my ancestors proudly, even when I die a dog's death." Trace nodded, and took out a piece of wrought iron as big as his fist. It was his family's slave marker. Those who have been marked by it cannot disobey the orders of the marker. Dust can be seen on the handle, clearly telling that the Redfate family do not have a habit of buying slaves. The only ones who realized that fact was Rinea, and Monica.
"Then I will hold those words, Monica Blackheart." Trace injected the slave marker with his magic, and it quickly turned red. As Trace brought it closer to Monica's unblemished skin, Monica can clearly feel the heat coming out of it. Trace grabbed Monica's right arm, and pressed the slave marker on her upper arm, near her shoulder. The sizzles coming from the heated iron pressed against her milky white skin was audible throughout the courtyard, but it was soon drowned by her pained screams. Even then, she held her ground. She did not fight back, nor did she try to struggle free. She was determined, and her determination was strong enough to brave the pain. After a few seconds, Trace pulled the slave marker from her arm, and released her. Monica's expression contorted in pain, but it was soon replaced by her usual calm expression.
"Now then. Does anyone else have the same resolve as her?" Seeing their leader's bravery and determination, everyone else followed her footsteps. They all chose to be slaves, entrusting their lives to Trace's whims. Two hours passed, and Monica and her 43 followers became Trace's slave. "From here on out, your life is in my hands. My words are absolute and you will die when I told you to." 44 people bowed in front of him, all marked with the slave marker on their shoulder. "Then follow me." Trace walked down the platform, and out of the courtyard, 44 people obediently following behind him. Trace pointed at the carriages he prepared beforehand, and commanded them to get in.
44 people were carted like lifestock, and they were brought to the building Trace owned. They all followed behind him as he guided them through the building, and arrived at a newly built room. It was large enough to accommodate more than a hundred people, and there is something that resembles a throne at the other end of the room. Everyone was awed by the room, but Trace alone seemed to be aggravated by it. "Gilbert, you bastard... I knew I shouldn't have left it to you..." Trace sighed as he pressed his right hand to his forehead, and walked toward the throne. He sat on it, while the others bowed before him.
"Now... do you know why I appealed to the king to spare your lives?" Everyone looked at each other, not able to answer his question. "One reason is that because you still hold the information of Rigurl's whereabouts. The other..." Trace glanced at Monica for a moment, before continuing. "There is a high possibility that you were just used by Rigurl. Of course, that will not erase your sins, nor will it make them lighter. Of course, if what you were doing was out of your own volition, I will have you take your own life right here, right now." The air in the room became heavy, but Trace decided to ignore the atmosphere, and continued to speak. "Now tell me what I want to know, and I'll let you sleep under a roof."
And so they talked. They told Trace everything they know, every little details about Rigurl. Trace kept his silence as he listened to the slaves talk, and nodded with a small smile on his face. "I see... then I suppose you were all just controlled by Rigurl." Trace stood up from his throne, and took out a bag from his dimensional ring. He put the bag in front of Monica, and squatted in front of her. "Even if it was all an act, I still said something very rude. For that, I apologize. I hope these potions will be enough to make up for it." Monica looked into Trace's eyes, and she saw no malice nor hatred in his eyes. A smile appeared on her mouth, and she lowered her head even deeper. "What are you saying, master? You saved us from our death, and I can never repay you for your kindness."
Trace smiled gently, and rested a hand on Monica's shoulder. "Then I will be counting on you from now on, Monica." Monica raised her head and met Trace's eyes as she nodded. "Yes, my master!" Trace patted her shoulder once more, and stood up. "Then distribute the potion to everyone. It still burns, does it not?" Trace sat on his throne once more as Monica distributed the potion to his men. When everyone was properly healed, Trace guided them to the place he prepared for them. It was a wide, wooden housing that was built long before Trace captured Monica and her men. The rooms were furnished with a bed, a drawer, a table and a chair, and the men's and women's rooms were separated. The east wing, where the windows faced the lake were for the men, and the west wing, where the windows faced the forest were for the women.
"M-Master..." A young woman spoke up, her voice cracked from nervousness. Trace smiled at her, and she can feel some of her nervousness melt away. "A-Are you sure you want to give us such luxurious housing?" Trace nodded, his gentle smile still perched on his face. "Of course. I threatened to kill you on the spot if you are truly affiliated with Rigurl, but I planned to let you all stay here if you are not. You all may be slaves, but I need you to be in the best condition possible." Smiles started to appear on the slaves' faces. They had steeled themselves to sleep with the horses, but the treatment they received were not something they had anticipated.
"I have yet to show you the rest of the buildings. Come, follow me." The slaves followed Trace, their steps far lighter than before. Trace brought them to another building, not as large as the housing, but it was built at the edge of the lake. Trace guides them inside, and they saw two entrances right after they came in, and to the left was a corridor that turns toward the lake. The entrance on the right had a large horn on a wall mount on top of it, and the one on the left had butterflies on it. "This is the baths, where you can wash away the dirt from your body. The one with the horn is for the men, while the one with the butterflies is for the women. It seems like you all need to clean yourselves, so please use the facility as you like."
The slaves were quite excited to try the baths, and the men and women split up, and went to their respective baths. Trace sighed, and walked to the corridor to the left. He followed the corridor until he reached a wide area with several benches scattered near the edges. The place was built on top of the waters' surface, supported by pillars of stone built underneath it. Half of the building was built by Fang and his beasts that can breathe underwater. Trace laid down on one of the benches, and closed his eyes. The lake's water is still, and he can hear the voice of rustling leaves even from this distance. The only other sound that he can hear was the excited voice of the women as they entered the bath. The lake's tranquility made all of the muscle in his body relax, and he drifts slowly to sleep.
Trace's eyes flickered open and the first thing he realized was that his head was not rested on top of the hard surface of the bench anymore, but something much softer. "Are you awake, master?" His eyes was greeted by Monica's dark green eyes. Trace nodded, and picked himself off the comfort of Monica's thigh. "I wondered why my afternoon nap was a lot more comfortable than usual." Monica laughed gently and looked up to the sun. Trace gazed at her figure and couldn't help but to admire her beauty. Her short, shaggy hair had a deep color of dark green, it almost looked black. Her hair is still wet, water droplets still at the tip of her hair, for she just came out of the bath. Her eyes had the same hue as her hair, and Trace thought that it compliments her hair perfectly. Her slim, yet well-trained figure had their own charm, and Trace couldn't help but to stare. "Master?" Trace raised her gaze, towards her eyes, and raised one of his eyebrows.
Monica could feel Trace's gaze on her, so he called out to him. To her surprise, Trace's expression did not change at all. She recalled that Trace was no older than 15, but the way he carried himself made her belief that the boy beside her is older than she is. This time, it was Trace's turn to call out to her. "Monica? Is something wrong?" Monica shook her head, and smiled. "No, it's nothing. I think everyone will be done bathing soon. Shall we go?" Trace nodded, and stood up from the bench.
As the last person came out of the baths, Trace guided them to another building. The building only had several rooms, with large open area with many tables and benches lined up neatly. "This is the dining hall. Food will be served three times a day, make sure you are not late to come, or there will be no meals for you." Trace guided the slaves to the room behind the counter, revealing a room where many cooking utensils were lined up on the wall, or stored in shelves. Several stone stoves were lined up against the wall, and there are many wooden crates stacked in one corner of the room. "You should discuss among yourselves who will be on cooking duty, but make sure you do not burden one person too much."
Trace brought everyone out of the building, and clapped his hands. "That concludes everything. If you still have questions, then come meet me. I am usually in the laboratory. It is the first building you entered when you all came here." Trace closed his eyes, and the air around him changed. He was no longer the friendly master that they just faced, but the strict master that spoke to them in the throne room. "If Rigurl still roams Lumen, then none of you will be truly free. Therefore I will give you two days to rest. After that, I will bring you all to face him, and bring an end to his scheming. This is not a request. This is an order. Prove your loyalty to me, and I shall reward you for it." Everyone bowed him and answered in a loud voice. "Yes, master!" Trace's air changed once more, back to his gentle self. "Good. I expect you all to do your utmost when the time comes." Trace turned his back toward the slaves, and waved. "Then rest your body and mind. I expect you all to be in peak condition two days from now."