Deep
within the small Dondel swamplands of Chiron, Aidden Adaii continued
his struggle with a pile of large rocks lying in front of him. With
the blisters on his hands growing ever-larger, he clenched his pick-ax
at another part of the handle and brought it down once again upon
his target.
There
was a reason the 23 year old man was having such trouble with his
task, and it began with the fact that he spent most of his life
solely as a wood craftsman. Stationed comfortably within the mills
to the north, younger men were normally bringing him fine cuts of
oak, walnut or spruce to fashion into the leg of an ornate chair,
or menacing sword hilt. As such, his Dondel masters had given him
the large red vest that he grew up wearing each day, including this
day, identifying his specialty in wood carving. Lately however,
everyone was pounding stone for the Dondels’ new castles,
which they were putting up to the far north in the mountains, as
quickly as they possibly could. Workers from around the swamp were
being pulled off their specialties to pound rock for castles, and
Aidden was among the latest group of casualties.
“Come
on now boy, you’ve gotten your head in the clouds again –
I’ve no wish to be here all night you know!” The man
shoveling smaller rocks, the result of Aidden’s work, nudged
him. His name was Gurdor, and they had grown up in the worker camps
as the best of friends. No larger than a normal man, Gurdor was
nonetheless the strongest Aidden had met, his frame covered by a
thick and well-toned layer of muscle.
“I’m
no stone-lovin’ Nical like you old man.” Aidden jabbed,
ignoring the pain in his hands and once again bringing down the
pick ax against his boulder. His older friend grunted and smacked
the back of Aidden’s leg with the flat of his shovel, throwing
the younger man a bit off balance. Aidden chuckled but didn’t
take time to retaliate. The truth was that Gurdor was correct; their
Dondel owners had lately been pushing all slaves twice as hard as
usual, and this was especially true with the rock-pounders. Part
of it had to do with the push to lay claim to more of the open land
to the north, where Aidden heard the rumors of a vast mountain range
full of valuable mineral resources.
Consequently, another factor to their hard labor was most likely
the visit by that mountainous regions’ expected Dondel ruler,
an appointed king, rumored to be taking place both to encourage
the local Lord Hayden and at the same time inspect his operation.
As a result, Nical workers all around Chiron, and especially here
in the stone quarries were re-learning the true meaning of slavery.
Aidden sighed and brought his tool once again down on the boulder
nearby, scattering smaller shards of stone all around the two men.
A drop of sweat worked its way down his nose and fell to the handle
he gripped. Despite their location deep within the humid and smothering
swampland jungle, the sun had managed to break through the canopy
of trees. It found a place upon the backs of Aidden and the others,
and the Nical slaves toiled miserably throughout the day.
It was as the sun finally began its descent from the horizon that
the Dondel supervisors rang their bells, signaling to the workers
to wrap up their tools and begin packing for Fort Kilgore, and then
home. Aidden spat and let his ax fall to the ground, looking closely
at his now blistered and bleeding palms.
“It’s a good thing for you to know what a real day’s
work feels like my boy!” teased Gurdor, patting the younger
man on the back with his own calloused paw. “The day may come
when you leave your silly games with wood pieces for the honest
work of a stone cutter!”
Aidden spat again, picking up the ax and tossing onto a nearby tool
cart being pulled by. “As soon as that mountain castle is
thrown up, I’ll be begging for the familiar tools of a woodsman,
my friend, and you’d be smart to do the same! After all, you
won’t be able to do this type of work forever!” Gurdor
let loose a healthy laugh as they all fell into line, waiting to
be chained together for the march back to the Fort and eventually,
their camp.
“Sure I will my boy – it’s why we have young pups
like you doing the hard labor and more seasoned men like me checking
your progress!” The chains soon came around the two men and
again the bells rang out, this time signaling the beginning march
back home. A few moments later, the group began it’s slow,
weary way.