Once Upon a Faerie Tale

Chapter Two

Two:

Slaves were considered property, much like a cat or horse, only with a much shorter leash. For a person to become a slave, one would either be born into slavery, sold into it, or kidnapped. However you ended up in this sorry state, no one cared. Just like no one cares about the pebbles on the side of the road.

In the West Kingdom, slavery was prominent. The king himself, His Almighty Hollisburg, endorsed slavery, it was a cheap way to keep the kingdom in order. Along with the slaves being popular the West Kingdom was one of the most powerful in the area. The only person Hollisburg feared was the East Kingdom's ruler, Meriliane, a warrior of great measures.

The two kingdoms had locked horns frequently and often raided each other's border villages as well as infiltrating the Great Halls. These small tensions, however, were building and it seemed that there was a war just on the horizon.

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Læfer Castel: West Kingdom

The shop bustled with excitement and gossip. It was a popular place for the old women of the castel to come and enjoy some words with each other and Cleo listened idly to their chatter as she stocked the shelves.

"The tax on slaves is going to go up." Landy Onib said to one of her companions, "The King knows we can't live without them and so he'll be taxing us more." The old woman complained loudly. She did not care the Cleo was in hearing range; most likely did it just to bother the young slave.

"That will just increase the price on them too!" Sayllen Onib, Landy's sister, chimed in gloomily. " I was just saying to myself the other day," Sayllen continued haughtily, "The price of slaves has gone up drastically since I was a girl. Why, I remember when slaves only cost 100 phellings, now their two hundred Finlins! And those are only the useless ones!"

"How much did you pay for Cleo?" Landy asked Marbie, the shop and Cleo's owner.

"250 Phellings, course she was only five when I got her. I've definitely got my money's worth out of her, even if taxes do go up." Marbie said, running her fingers proudly over her silver hair.

Cleo frowned in disgust. She had only a vague memory of being taken from her home. She recalled a fire, screaming, and then darkness as a bag was placed over her head. She remembered only snippets of her life before slavery and dreamed every day of finding where she came from.

Later that evening, just before sunset, Cleo headed out to her favorite cliff. It lay a little ways from the house and the pathway was covered with thick underbrush and wild weeds. She sat down on the rock that curved inward, making a perfect seat. The view over the cliff was fantastic.

The West Castle lay in the distance, the beautiful stone structure rising from the ground. The towers and flags were all still silhouetted against eh colorful sky of the fading day.

"One day," Cleo said to herself, "One day I'm going to go there and not be a slave any longer. I'm going to be able to walk the streets as a free woman and I won't ever be told what to do." It was a dream of hers that had been born when she was still a young girl. Now, twenty years old, she's spent fifteen years in captivity. There must be some retribution for the poor and down-trodden, Cleo thought with bravado.

Even though she had dreams of far off places, that did not mean they were realistic. Slaves were never set free and given chances to live their own lives. No, they were given no choice and had to go where they were told, do what their owners wanted, and be sold and inspected like horseflesh.

It was the lucky ones that stayed with the same owner for most, or all their life in captivity. Cleo put herself in that category. Although the life of a slave was not a pleasant one, hers was better than most. There was no hard physical labor, no horrible cleaning jobs. All Cleo was required to do was run the shop and balance the books. No, it wasn't the work that was horrible, it was the food that was never quite done, the hard bed in the attic with the rats and the spiders,. It was the judgmental stares and disgusted glances from people on the street. It was the fact that she got no pay for what she did, no 'thank you' for doing a good job and no love.

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2 Years Later...

The man came in a fancy carriage drawn by two snow white horses. He wore tailored breeches made of fine silk, fancy leather shoes with gold buckles and a gold waistcoat with the king's crest embroidered on it. his snowy wig was worn in a ponytail at the nape of his neck and he walked with his chest puffed out proudly after he stepped out of the carriage.

He came into the shop and began browsing lazily through the selection. Cleo knew what she was required to do and walked over the regally dressed man, head down in a sign of respect. "Is there anything I can help you with sir?" She asked, timidly, like a good slave should.

"No," The Man said cheerily, "I was sent by the king to assess Marbie Cree’s assets. "The man's words sent a chill through her.

If the king sent someone to assess their assets that meant they were in debt. In debt so deep they would begin to take things away from the person in debt. Since slaves were a part of what most called assets then Cleo could be taken too. The prospect of being taken away from Marbie was something unknown. While she hated Marbie with a passion, she was not as bad as other owners.

The King's assessor looked around the shop for ten minutes before approaching Cleo. "Are you a slave?" He asked bluntly.

Cleo hated the word 'slave' but knew there was no way to avoid being marked as one for the rest of her life. "Yes, sir." She said quietly, her head still down. You never looked into the eyes of anyone if you were a slave. The punishment could be carried out twice, once by the person whose eyes you looked into and once by the slave's owner.

"How long have you been owned by Marbie?" He asked his voice was kind, no trace of judgment or mocking in his tone.

"Seventeen years, sir." Cleo replied.

"How old are you?" Still there was no mocking, it was a surprise to Cleo for she did not have a memory of being treated so kindly.

"Twenty-two sir."

"Where you born into slavery?" The King's man asked.

"No, sir."

"Thank you." He said. Cleo visibly jerked. One thing a slave never heard was 'thank you'. The man put a hand on her shoulder and with his free hand tilted her head up with a hand on her chin. Reluctantly Cleo lifted her gaze to the man, he was smiling kindly. "A simple, 'you're welcome' will suffice," he said.

"Y-you're welcome, "Cleo managed to choke out. The man smiled again and left in his fancy carriage.