Side Story: Slave to fate.

For now, lets put aside the poor Rick in the depths. (This chapter will finish at the point that Rick and Slave Girl meet as I am feeling unwell, originally intended to leave off shortly after Rick's 'demise' down the ravine.)

Because this is the story you long needed to hear... The reason Slave Girl is the way she is.

25 years prior to reincarnation.

I was born on the first day of the month of Takir on the coldest day of the year.

Thus I was named after the snow flakes that fell as I took my first breath. Chanti is my name, daughter of the leader of our community.

As so many of the Tarami people do; I spent my early years farming. Nothing pleased me more than basking in the sun during my free time.

I was also taught letters, a rarity for women and those of low birth. That was because my Mother was a noble in hiding, her family was exterminated as rebel sympathizers. So I have a touch of noble blood, but I can't tell anyone. It is a small pride I must keep quietly.

When I turned twelve I had a stroke of bad fortune. I was called for service in the Endless Twilight Realm. Mother wanted me to refuse and hide, but I knew this would bring scrutiny upon us all and make us fugitives if the secret came out.

So I went with my captors willingly, to keep us all safe.

We walked a great distance. From the town of Yarne to the halls of Res Hirm and finally the walled city of Krakoomb. Each settlement larger and more impressive to a silly young farm girl.

Then we were lead as a group to the towering gates of the First Citadel and there we entered the cursed darkness. I said farewell to the sun and the stars with regret.

The famed passage of entry, one of only three our people hold is brilliantly lit with torches and glittering crystals embedded in the walls.

We are proud of our dominance. Of the fifteen entrances known, scattered across the surface of the world, we hold more than any other. That is also why our people are conflicted and require a revolution. We possess more than all others, wealth in greater quantity than any nation, yet people are allowed to starve, are treated as slaves and others hoard power and wealth. We are haves and havenots in equal measure.

I was young, the paths winding and joining rooms that seemed more alien and unfathomable than I could comprehend. Monsters were a very real threat, as were primitive raiders. I soon lost my mental map back to the surface. I had to rely on my captors. I learned this was a rather unfortunate problem; if you cannot recall the finer details of the Endless Twilight Realm you will die badly. Sense of direction down here is vital.

Of course maps exist, however they aren't comprehensive often cut off at key junctions by nigh unassailable god-demons. The stories of the rare greater god-demons are spoken in hushed tones and the facts are so terrible they defy terrify all but the most ignorant. They are often as brutal as nightmares of blood and slaughter. Others insidious and cruel. The rarest of the rare are not only clever, they are intelligent and capable of speech. To hear the honeyed words of the legendary fiend-gods is to know your life has ended and that of everyone you hold dear. No matter the location.

Some are well known enough to possess a nickname: The Nameless Stranger, The Fire-God, The Butcher, The Distorter, etc. The worst have no name, because none that encountered them lived long enough to describe it. Some even drive the viewer mad. Sometimes the means of killing is the calling card; The Petrified, The Shattered, The Hollow... The Suicide.

The rules of the rooms are distorted and occasionally can change. One strange room has absolutely no difference from a normal cavern. Every room has a unique difference; does even normality count as one?

Our trip itself, while harrowing was mostly uneventful.

Our final destination: Bastion City.

There our group of young bloods was splintered off to different groups for education in our roles.

I was determined to avoid the death sentence of foraging, so I managed to scrape my way into the ranks of the scribes. It was still Hell, just a different kind. Ruthless trainers and endless writing. I was treated worse as the only female in the facility. The trainers tried with utter hatred to demean me and force me into quitting and going on to do 'Woman’s work' i.e. foraging until I died or prostitution.

However I became something of a persistent nuisance. I was eventually reduced to merely a migraine, as the fresh batch of recruits came in a year later and a stupid fool who could scarcely write became their new target.

Eventually I was promoted into accounting in a few years.

Following that I became quartermaster for the trading missions. This was a pleasant life, simple work, organized, efficient staff. I held this job for nearly a decade, rising to head this important group.

I had a simple home, food and some respect. It was a dream job in this death hole.

I was still painfully aware of the gap between my own status and that of the lowest of the elite.

The distinction down here was even more telling; they traveled guarded and surrounded by luxury. While they could not live above ground by law, they could still leave for extended periods. Because all of those who enter the Endless Twilight Realm must understand that there is no leaving. It will not let you survive for more than a month.

Even more frightening the nobles had absolute freedom; there were rumors that several key figures were planning a coup d'etat and were in the middle of arming and training a vast military. There was war on the horizon.

Anyhow, I heard rumors of a threat to our caravans and carried to the authorities. A tame monster of gigantic proportions in the possession of a primitive species on the edge of our borders.

A task force was formed, for the purposes of purchasing or destroying this monster. For the life of me, I don't understand the man in charge. He requisitioned my services. Forcibly transferred me to his expedition since I was the only one with 'knowledge of the beast' even though I repeatedly explained I had nothing to supply.

I finally caught on, from his leers at my chest, that this was not a professional decision. He was intending to seduce me in the wilderness. With his noble rank I had no way to refuse his official orders.

Wilderness. It is worse than I ever realized. The path to Bastion City is carefully swept clean of monsters; in the outer edges of our territory they are free to roam.

The Room of Clear Skies (Re: Forest Room) was a pleasant one; I have spent most of my life without the sun. To see it again, even through a transparent dome is marvelous. The sight of trees and grass is also a thing of nostalgia.

The leader made his move as we settled in to our camp; trying to talk me into sharing his bedroll, so I punched him in the gut. I have spent years carting goods, farming and piles of books everywhere; and dealt with my fair share of abusive men, it was not a light punch. I left the pig coughing up his dinner.

We set camp in a secluded area flanked by trees and walls. First light we send scouts to the adjoining rooms, however this is not a wise choice as we came to experience. We brought upon our heads the wrath of a god-demon; a revenant of the Jurgen race. It was fierce and quick; but unable to force a way into our camp.

The scout and a few the advance guard were not so fortunate; they were mashed into tiny pieces.

It lingered a while and then left, but it still managed to put our plans into chaos, cutting us off from a second scout. It returned again half a day later, searching this room for something. We never saw it again, all we heard were snapping noises.

Then came the scout describing strange primitives that created superior weapons, even monsters with a mystical technique. I have long heard of these 'skills' that transcend wisdom. Only those born and bred in the 'Realm have gained them.

The metal monster and owner appeared, a grey furred creature; repulsive and arrogant.

It dawned that this creature had not simply found the monster and tamed it through arcane means, he had actually made it. The metal, gold mixed with something I have never seen.

Then came the moment of horror; he asked for me in addition to the negotiated price in worthless minerals. I was even more shocked when the officer agreed.

“Since the day you were dragged down here you have been a slave, woman! Has no one reminded you of this?!” He exclaimed at my reluctance. “We requisitioned you; we own you. You are a resource. Go with your new owner, your life is his; you know how long you will last alone in the tunnels and the ducal guard do not aid runaway slaves. If we catch you, we kill you on principle.”

“You can't do this!” [Me]

“You can still escape, stowaway on the merchant caravan that brings the rest of the agreed upon price. I hope your stinginess with your virtue hamstrings you there too.” [Captain]

So that is why I am a slave to this hideous brute. Petty fucking nobles.

I try to be as submissive as I can be toward my owner, so that I will not be on a short leash when my chance comes.

What we learned:

Surface dwellers!

Politics and religious beliefs exist.

Leaving the Labyrinth in the long term is fatal.

15+ Exits!

Big bad boss monsters are not all giant beasts...

More!

Next time if I feel up to it, the merchant caravan and Niala's destination...

The maze unveils a new layer of intrigue to Rick.

The remainder of Slave Girl's predicament.

As far as his Rick's weapon fanatic personality trait... I am basing that aspect off myself; I used to read weapon encyclopedias. For fun.