“You're finally awake.”

Heavy rain poured around him making the heavy but rough cloth stick to his skin. Isaiah moved his scaly eyes and met a pair of tired fish-like eyes looking back at him. Its owner was in a rather poor state, he was bald save for an unkempt, bushy stubble hanging on his beard. His face looked like rough clothes and he was pale and weak.

“You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as me, and those idiots over there."

'Border, what border?' Was what Isaiah should have replied but instead, he was surprised. After all, the man in front of him had spoken in a language that didn't resemble any that he had heard of, but in a strange turn of events, he could understand fluently. Almost as if it was his first language, despite never having heard of it before.

Was he dreaming? He had heard of how some dreams can become so real and so strange. That said, his curiosity was roused at this rather 'realistic' dream he was experiencing. The first thing he had noticed about the man speaking to him was the poor way he was dressed with. From top to bottom, he wore very degrading wear. He had the makings of a beggar, yet wore clothes that beggars would find a hard time actually wearing. After all, it was easier to just use the normal clothes people wear than go ahead and don a heavy ragged fur coat.

It reminded him of how 'medieval era' peasants would be depicted wearing in many movies.

However, as he was getting used to what he was seeing, he started to realize just how equally strange his surroundings were currently. He was sitting on one end of a wooden cart, one that seemed like it wasn't meant for passenger transport with the lack of a proper seat, the rough actually dangerous texture of the jagged wood which was filled with mold patches and stank of blood and nature. He could only think of how long this cart was last maintained.

As he moved his eyes, he noticed the other 'idiots' as the old man in front had stated. They were both asleep, their faces youthful but thin and looked like they had just been beaten up with many bruises and cuts on the visible parts of their skin.

The carriage was moving in between a thick forest of tall brown trees. The carriage itself is pulled by a brown and black horse of medium size being driven by a man wearing a light fur coat. Behind them, walking not too far were two men of good physic, wearing interlocking metallic rings of different quality, chainmail as he remember it to be. Padded clothes offered an extra layer of protection for the two though, despite the rain, only one had a hoodie while the blonde had his head out without a care for the rain.

Isaiah was at a loss for thought. He couldn’t make one cent on what was happening to him or the sights he had just seen. Thus he turned back to the old man who seemed to be waiting for his reply,

“Ahh, sir-“

“SO WIPE THOSE STUPID TEARS OFF YOUR FACE!” The man suddenly raised his voice to the top of his lungs, causing him to jump in his seat which produced a sound similar to chains being moved up. Looking down, he saw to his horror a black chain with strange markings covering his entire hand. "Kids these days, doing stupid things and when it goes all wrong for them, they bawl their eyes out... Learn to grow some balls kid."

Isaiah didn't know why he was subjected to such anger despite having done nothing, that said, he was more worried about the chains wrapped in his hands.

"Ah, sir, why am I chained like this...”

But instead of the old man giving his reply, the blonde walking from behind clicked his tongue,

“Tsk, tsk, what do we have here?” He began picking on his nose, "Goods shouldn't talk to each other, you know."

“And you should drop dead like the worthless pig you are!” The old man rebutted, his voice filled with incredible malice.

“What was that peasant?”

“Hans don’t let his words get to you.” The taller soldier rather blankly scolded his hotheaded comrade.

“Is there dung on your ears? Do you also have shit for brains? I said drop dead like the worthless pig you are!” The old man grinned smugly at Hans which made his veins twitch in irritation.

"Let him be." Again, his taller comrade tried to dissuade him from proceeding but looked unenthusiastic.

“That does it. I'll rip your teeth off.”

“Come at me!”

“Sigh...” Either he lack the will or perhaps had none, to begin with, his comrade sighed and looked away, giving up on dissuading his comrade who leaped into the carriage and faced the old man.

Now here’s the thing. You see, unlike Hans who could move around as he pleased, wearing chainmail for protection and even had a sword behind his back, the old man was chained like Isaiah was. Lacking any armor and had loose sagging muscles. The battle’s outcome was a foregone conclusion. The old man wouldn’t be able to fight back even if he wanted to. But just as Hans pulled his fist and readied to strike, Isaiah took the moment to speak up.

“Ah, sir...” Isaiah saw that Hans had some sort of authority seeing that he was in a different position than they were, “Can you free me from these chains or something? I...”

“What?” The blond turned to Isaiah with an angry face,

“I-I have my rights as a human being, and I would like to know what my crimes are and why am illegally and unhumanely-“

“Pfft. Ahahahahaahha!”

“Unhamnely...” Isaiah tried to repeat his words but against the sudden torrent of mockery, his courage faltered. Being that Isaiah was a shy person from the beginning he had to muster up greater levels of courage and effort just to speak but now he found himself staring at the floor, unable to speak or even look at the two in front.

“Ahahahahaha, did you hear what he said?” Despite their previous exchange of harsh language, Hans spoke at the old man like they were two drinking buddies hearing a particularly dumb joke.

“I know right, kids are so stupid these days.”

“Human rights he said, human rights!”

Their laughter turned up a notch waking up the two sleeping guys beside Isaiah and also attracting the attention of the two other men outside of the carriage. Furthering Isaiah’s descent into embarrassment.

‘I wish I could dig a hole and just die.’ He closed his eyes as he waited for everything to just end.

The old man and the blonde began coughing as they willed themselves to stop laughing. Hans turned to Isaiah before looking at the old man,

“Oi, should I tell him?”

“What? I don’t know, I am just a slave your the guard here right?”

“Oh right, right... Okay, cough cough...” The man took a deep breath and looked at Isaiah before gagging as if he just barely suppressed his urge to laugh once more, he placed his hand on his mouth before taking another deep breath, “Right... Kid, do you not understand the situation you are in?”

The way he spoke was clearly that of a man who had difficulty holding his laughter in, but of course, Hans was a tough person, he managed to control himself but barely.

“Ah... No?” Isaiah looked around, “I am being held against my will...”

“Look kid,” Hans interrupted, “You are a slave.”

“A slave?”

“Yes...”

“A slave? But... But why, that's illegal.”

“I don't know why, I am just a guard here... Someone sold you somewhere, maybe your parents or your boss or something... Commonplace everywhere.”

“But... But why am I a slave? This can’t be real, like, slavery is illegal, and this, chains, the clothes...” Isaiah became very confused, his mind was filled with so many questions that he simply couldn’t understand what was going on, and the more he saw the more questions filled his head.

Isaiah turned to Hans with a confused but pleading face,

“Sir, please... You have to let me out, I did nothing wrong, I did...”

“Beat it, kid...” A rough voice from the front stopped Isaiah from his pleading as the driver looked back, “And you Hans, get out of the carriage and start walking, the mansions just ahead of us. You don’t want your pay cut and don’t talk to that guy. He is the special good.”

“Special goods? Ahhh, right right, I was told of something like that...” Hans then turned to Isaiah, placed his hand on his shoulder, and roughly pushed him down, his eyes looking at the chains behind his back ignoring Isaiah’s grunts, “Tsk tsktsk, what a big fish this guy is...” He scanned the chains that covered Isaiah's wrist. Their blue glow made his eyes glisten.

Hans took his hand out of Isaiah before leaping out of the carriage, rejoining his comrade in their march on the muddy road.

Finding himself with a myriad of questions, he turned to the two soldiers at the back hoping to restart a conversation but found no courage to speak to them. Looking at the old man in front, he felt a quiet hostility that stopped him from thinking he could speak with him either.

'That said...'

Hans had just stated that he was being sold as a 'slave'. And considering that the old man and the two beside him were all chained one way or the other, plus the rather poor conditions they are in, his words found some merit. Indeed he was being detained, whether illegal or not was not the problem as of the moment, the problem was,

By who?

'Terrorist? Isis? No, why would I be in Syria? Perhaps the MILF, but they had agreements with the government, so... Maybe a more secretive one?' But it was quite difficult to properly articulate his thoughts, considering the major lack of more 'modern' technology anywhere. ‘Swords, and is that a spear... Also, I’m in a carriage? It doesn’t look like Africa in the first place... Also, African terror groups would have guns?’

His mind began to ache, it was difficult trying to solve this problem for now without so much as an inkling of information. Thus he turned to the old man. Though his former confidence had been shattered by their mockery, if he wished to survive he must regather his strengths.

"Sir..." Isaiah’s voice was weak and didn’t reach the old man, “Sir... May I ask, where are we?”

For a while the old man only looked at Isaiah, but just as Isaiah was about to repeat his question the old man snorted, “Dachia.”

“Dachia? You mean the Dutch republic?” Isaiah tried to scour his memories for any news related to terrorists in northern Europe.

“Dutch? No, no, Dachia,”

“Dachia?” Isaiah knew not one single nation on Earth which called itself Dachia, but there were other more pressing questions he had to ask, didn’t Hans call him ‘goods’? There was only one reason why people would call another person ‘goods’. “Also, why are we being sold as slaves? Only North Korea would do something similar if we crossed their border, and maybe most terror groups.”

“Korea? Look kid, stop asking questions no one knows, only you know why you are sold.”

“I see... Then can you at least tell me where exactly are we going?”

“What!?” The old man sounded irritated, but he sighed upon seeing the naive face Isaiah was making, “Well...There are plenty of places to sell slaves in Dachia, I can't really...” The man suddenly paused before gulping, his eyes were filled with fear but he calmed himself and muttered, “Eisansurburg huh... That old stone bastard of all places.”

At the sudden mention, Isaiah turned his head around and saw what the old man was saying.

He may not know a single bit of German, but the word didn't sound pretty.

It was a mansion made of grey stone, its three floors filled with many large windows, covering it was a roof of a dark-purplish shade. At the very center of the mansion stood a tall tower that housed a shiny brass bell that was ominously ringing at a slow steady pace. The sound of which resembled that of a cow's bell.

As they closed in the mansion, the forest soon gave way to large plantations of cotton and wheat. Because it was night and the clouds covered the sky no one was present in the field. Sometimes, moonlight would penetrate thin layers of clouds and offer a glimpse of what hid underneath, and there Isiah saw a rather horrifying sight as he noticed that the scarecrows weren’t made of hay or some other material but rather of real human beings.

He couldn’t tell if they were alive or not but the savagery of the sight caused him to gulp out of fear

He looked away and turned to the floor.

He was at his wit's ends. He didn’t know what was happening. Everything was too real for it to be a dream and he had so, so many questions that his mind was demanding answers from...

First of all, what was happening? Why was he chained by a strange chain, why were the people around him in medieval era clothing when normal cotton clothes would be far cheaper, why was he in a carriage, and why was he being sold as a slave in this strange country called Dachia who could speak a strange language that he was somehow, fluent with.

Yet as the carriage came nearer and nearer to the mansion, Isaiah still could not find his answers, only more questions arrived. But it was too late to ask any questions, it seemed that answers will be given soon, answers that he may not like. Thus, he decided to see where things were heading. He knew that by remaining calm and collected, he would be able to find a way out of this situation.

He took a deep breath and braced himself.