Closed Even The Free Are Marked (Alexander)

[Timothy Mered]

23rd Summer 514AV

He wished someone would kill that bloody rooster. For three days now, the stupid beast would keep on crowing until he would get out of bed and whenever he did, by some magic, the creature would stop within chimes. Sander and Matilla had gotten used to it. They didn't stir in their beds, no creaking sounded and no sighs either.

"Fine," he grumbled under his breath. "Have it your way."

He cast his blanket aside, swung his legs over the rickety bed's edge and rubbed his eyes. Three days had passed now. His hand moved to his forehead where his skin was raised a fraction and had whitened beyond his normal complexion. He wished he could rip the mark off and leave the place, but he didn't know whereto. In his head, he'd gone over it a thousand times, yet his mind kept searching for an answer, a solution, a means of escape. It was almsot routine now. In the morning he'd wish to be somewhere else, during midday he would've thought of some plan, and by the time supper arrived, things didn't look so bad anymore and the pattern would repeat the next day.

And the next.

And the next.

Sighing, he raised himself and, for the first time -without being asked to, grabbed his clothes, the tub and headed outside and 'round the back to fetch some water from the well, dew cleansing his ankles as he went. The streets were still deserted and with the sun merely peeking over the horizon, it was relatively cold. He took off his nightly garments, dipped his head in the cold water and scrubbed his arms before he threw his shirt over his head and buckled up his three-quarter pants with a bit of rope. Feeling quite awake now, Tim was softly singing an old song as he came back to the front:

Good ol' Jackie had plenty of mirth
When he came to his city of birth
And found himself a wife you see
Who was herself an antiquity

But little did ol' Jackie know
That haggie's husbands come and go
He was just a bit of stock
Put up for sale with the grandfather's clock!

Beyond that, he didn't know the song and he vaguely wondered if he even got the notes right. Many days aboard the slaver's ship had muddled his memory of the notes and texts of better, friendly songs, the one that Nance used to sing to him.

To his horror, he noticed a shadow in his peripheral vision and he felt quite embarassed for having sung. He only did so when he thought he was alone, and to be suddenly robbed of his privacy sent a shiver down his spine. Tempted though he was to press on and pay the figure no heed, his limbs were steered by childish curiosity and he turned towards the reasonably tall, brown-haired young man who had a desperate look about him, the look of someone hopelessly lost.

"Are you alright?" Tim ventured to ask.

[Alexander Hamish Moore]

Alexander Hamish Moore had been in the city for 13 days now. The meeting with his caravan master had gone exactly as expected- that is not well. Every stop there would be people who left, and people to fill in the gaps. It was a mess of work for the quartermaster, and lead drivers, and they by no means were happy about the extra work. They gave him part of the pay for the trip, and let him keep his gear after he paid it off at very stiff market prices. He couldn’t say his stay had been uneventful, in fact it was a nice break from the same routine he had been stuck in for the last 7 years. The city was nice, but the people seemed rather standoffish, and very guarded, and sometimes it felt like he was being sized up to wear a slave’s mark. He decided he needed to apply for a more permanent status that didn’t involve involuntary labor. The host of the Traveler’s Complex had suggested that Alex become a freeborn, but didn’t have time to walk him around the city, showing him the sights or maybe by the time that the complex’s patron mentioned it was right across the street Alexander had already wandered off onto a different thought.

He had woken early out of habit, the sun still hidden but giving the early morning a soft light as the night faded. The summer air was fresh, and cool. The city was still sleeping, though he could hear the faint sounds of life stirring. Instead of searching again for the office, he wanted to explore a bit more. Get a feel for the city. The wide open spaces were much more appealing than the cramped corridors of the Stormhold Castle. He breathed in the crisp morning air, as the sound of singing slowly drew the wandering wanderer back to the ground. The words didn’t seem to make much sense, it almost sounded like a tune sung for children. When he located the source, it seemed his assumption was correct.

It was a young boy, who still seemed to be getting used to the angry mark on his head. The sudden realization that he wasn’t alone seemed to shake the boy. Alex hadn’t even thought that such a thing would be so unnerving, but then when you think you’re alone… his thoughts were interrupted by the by speaking at Alex.

Alex took in another breath, and looked around the city again, it was such a lovely city after all. Then he spoke quietly, like he always did, ”I suppose I’m lost.” Alex faced turned a bit towards the where he thought the Suvan Sea was, ” I need to get a Freeborn Brand, before I end up in your position.” He said trying to capture what he thought was a friendly and cheerful tone.

[Timothy Mered]

23rd of Summer 514AV

"We can switch if you like," Tim grinned. "Just three hundred and thirty mizas and you won't have to worry another day in your life. Bed'n breakfast," he gestured towards the shop. "Comes with a tub too." The relief of getting up early and witness a shy sun rise in east, called out of hiding by an orchestra of birds, affected his mood favorably. Kenash certainly glowed beautifully in the newborn light. Rich bastards or not, their wealth hadn't all been wasted on fashion or slaves, some of it had been put into growing lavish, exotic trees, or painting the facades with dashing, light oranges, reds, and yellows. The designs made everyone look small, even the lost young man with his scattered hair and hopelessly lost posture. To deny him, like the Dynasty brats would've, would be cruel and wrong.

Tim put the tub down and was about to point the way when he considered that there was something to gain. Sunberth hadn't corrupted his heart into that of a thug or common thief, but the city's bad influence hadn't passed on him either. There was an exchange to be made, a favor to be gained. Not one to be used immediately, but for later. For safekeeping.

"I can tell you where to go," he said, crossing his arms, "but what do I get out of it?" At worst, the young man would be offended and walk away, only to return bells later, Tim imagined. The first Dynasty brat this man would ask for directions would have him in chains and though a great many things could be said about the man, he didn't strike Tim as a fool. Not the biggest one at least, though he looked and sounded far too happy for someone teetering between the edges of the law like he was. Marks, Tim understood, were good. They kept you safe. Not having a mark, but wearing good clothes meant you were one of the many people who'd lost the ability to ever admit to anything. It was tragic really. Having no mark at all, he considered, was probably the most dangerous position to be in and he regretted having offered to switch.

"I could use a favor," he said. "If I tell you where to go, I need a favor in return."

There wasn't much time left before Matilla would wake up and bring him breakfast. Rocking back and forth on his toes, Tim awaited the gigglemug's reply, praying that he would be quick about it. Either the young man accepted, or he could stick the directions up his bum.

[Alexander Hamish Moore]

Alex smiled at the offer, a simple joke playing off the fact that he was in a limbo with the laws. He had 30 days he knew, but he was starting to feel that he was cutting it close. If he didn’t get expelled from the city, he could very much end up in this boy’s shoes. And then perhaps this boy would be promoted or moved some where better? Alex couldn’t pretend to understand how slavery worked, spending all his life in a city where slavers were killed on sight, and slaves were set free- whether or not they wanted their freedom. He loved his freedom, that was one of the biggest reasons he had joined a caravan. But, he didn’t know exactly how he felt about slavery here.

He turned to face the boy, who had offered to give directions in return for a favor. He couldn’t place the accent, it didn’t sound like any of the common that was spoken along the Kabrin road. What kind of favor would a slave want? Was it just a game that a child played? Alex stared at the boy for a few ticks, trying to think of why and what this boy would want and need as a favor. A favor for directions, he almost laughed at the strangeness of it. But, this showed how different this city on the bayou was from his home.

He paused for another few ticks before cautiously beginning to speak, “ A favor, eh?” he paused, just to make sure he actually wanted to agree to doing a favor. ” I reckon I don’t have much of a choice.” he continued slowly, studying the boys reaction. He did need those directions, and what harm could a favor bring?

[Timothy Mered]

23rd Summer 514AV

Tim fidgeted. It was a gamble, one that could either pay off or hit him straight in the face. All depended on the man's reason and goodness, if he had any. "Beak's office is back yonder," he pointed behind the man. Pass two bridges, then it's left and on the second crossroad. Big house that, can't miss it."

He considered calling in his favour straight away and ask the man to hunt down the rooster, but restrained himself. "The favor can wait," he slurred. In truth, he hadn't decided what he wanted yet, he only knew that the more friends he made, the better his chances of escape. The thought of being free again always lingered in his mind, but he had nowhere to go and no one to go to. Except his father, whoever the hell he may be and if he wasn't dead already. The leather wristband was all he had. Plain and useless though it was, it carried plenty of sentimental value. "I wouldn't go yet," he warned the stranger. "The magistrate is a grumpy man, I heard." Turning away from the stranger, he began his task of opening the shutters.

"Who are you anyway?"

[Alexander Hamish Moore]

The boy seemed nervous, it made Alex wonder if all the slaves happened to act like this. Nervous around the freeborn. What would this status bring him? To be perfectly honest, though he would never admit, even to himself, he hoped it would bring strife. That was the whole reason for staying in this city- a taste of luxury and pain. He listened carefully to the directions, and cursed himself. Once the directions had been laid out clearly, he knew exactly where the office was. He had only walked by the building a dozen times during his stay here, but his feet refused to carry him down the wooded lane to a large, ornate building that was mostly obscured.

Alex had little experience with politicians, he had made a point to avoid people with positions of power. He even avoided guards when he could help it, people who could wield enough power to imprision or execute at a whim put him on edge. He had spent the last 7 years between 3 cities with his head down, and his nose clean. He couldn’t imagine that would be the case anymore, not with a brand on his arm labeling him for all to see.

He had almost zoned out, while the boy was working. The childish voice cut through his thoughts like a knife. ”Who are you you, anyway? The question was simple seeming, but it struck to the core of the transient. Was the boy simply asking for his name? Or was he asking for a summary of his character? It almost seemed silly for five words to cause such a resounding blow to his soul. He waited for almost 10 ticks before answering with a smile. ”I’m just a transient looking for something different, but you can call me Alex.” he extended his hand towards the boy in greeting, ”And who are you?” he asked, wearing the same smile as he had worn while thinking.

[Timothy Mered]

23rd Summer 514AV

"A what?"

Tim knew his races, most of them at least. But he'd never before heard of Transients. If this man was one, they either very much resembled humans or were in fact another breed of human. Cocking his head, as if Aled was some odd birds, Tim let his eyes slide over the man. He didn't look much different and Tim was at a loss what discerned a Transient from a Human.

Puzzling him even futher was the purpose of this man. Something different? Like what? What sort of different? And why was he hoping to find it here? Alex was certainly more interesting than his daily ablutions.

"I am Tim," he said, "just Tim." He crossed his arms. "If you wan't to make a good impression, I suggest you buy chocolates. But we'd have to taste them of course, to make sure they're alright."

A smirk tugged at his lips. "If you get the wrong sort. Well..." he made a throat-slicing gesture. "Luckily, I happen to know which the Beak like's best. Say what, if you have a miza to spare, I can go and get the right sort in a chime!"

[Alexander Hamish Moore]

Alex let his hand drop, perhaps the boy didn’t understand the greeting. He couldn’t place the accent still, maybe it wasn’t a common greeting there. Alex tried to keep form getting annoyed as the slave looked him over with a rather unsettling look. It was like he was being sized up for his worth, Alex had seen that look before, when people didn’t know what to make of you, and they came to their own conclusions about your worth. The boy didn’t seem to like what he saw, and he looked puzzled before he introduced himself.

Tim, just Tim. A perfectly fitting name for a slave. But, that’s not all he was. For all his puzzling looks, he seemed sharp. Somewhere in his life he had picked up how to survive at the bottom. The boy sounded like he had important inside information on how to oil the workings of Kenash politics. And Alex had nothing to tell him whether it was shyke or not.

He paused and thought carefully, he didn’t like spending his money. Even in bribes to make his stay more comfortable. But Alex had rarely had chocolate, he could count the times on one hand. And he imagined this slave would almost never have the chance to have the treat. He patted around for his purse, and pulled out a gold miza, and handed it out to the boy. “I suppose I wouldn’t be human if I passed up the opportunity at tasting the famous Kenash chocolates.” He looked around the mostly empty streets, he didn’t want to get the boy in trouble with his master- an act that may come back and get him in trouble as well.

[Timothy Mered]

Date here

The man actually handed him a gold piece. The man, a stranger to these parts, who had no reason to trust him or anyone else, gave him a miza to buy chocolate. For a tick he thought he was still dreaming. Handling the coin with holy dignity, he slid it into his pocket, made a little bow and ran off. “I won’t be long!” he called over his shoulder.

He’d better not.

He sprinted towards the chocolate shop, chased by the echoes of feet pounding on stone. His heart kadoonked against his chest, and soon outpaced him. Luckily, Draer Chocolate’s wasn’t too far away, he only hoped the shop was open already.

To his dismay, the double doors were still closed. Panting, he retreated a pace to consider his options. Running back would make him look like a fool, but knocking on the door this early…

The scent of chocolates, thick, sweet, bitter and nutty wafted from the plain brick shop. He mustered his courage, stepped up to the door, and knocked. A few ticks passed before he heard some rummaging inside and the doors were opened.

“You’re early,” Kasha Draer smiled.

She was very pretty and very blonde and, Tim knew, she ran the shop together with her brother. He hadn’t seen him though, nor had he seen Kasha all that often. Just once in fact, and that had been from across the street. It was no wonder then that she didn’t recognize him.

“I’d like to buy something,” he said.

Her smile widened. “Well do come inside,” she gestured for him to follow. “I haven’t really opened yet, but we always start early and I am not one to deny hungry little boys.”

“It’s not for me,” he blurted as he followed inside, “it’s for a –uh- it’s for a friend.”

“Course.” She took her position behind the counter and allowed him a chime to study the various products and prices.

The more he looked, the less certain he was of what to buy. He only had one miza though, so that already limited his options. Still, the bars, cubes and slabs of dark and lighter chocolates almost made him drool and he nearly forgot that he wouldn’t get to taste any of the dark gold.

“I’ll take two milk bars.”

It was exactly one miza and Tim left in double the hurry he’d arrived him. Kasha had even packaged the chocolate for him and waved at him. She was really nice and he vowed to come by more often.

“Here,” he breathed as he skidded to a halt next to Alexander. “It was exactly one miza, so there’s no change.” Out of breath, he took the liberty to sag down against the wall of Jed bed’s and boxes and remain there for as long as he’d be allowed to.
About that accentI decided to drop the accent. It was an experiment and it didn't really work out for me. As far as I am concerned, you can just pretend he spoke normally from here on out. There's no need to backtrack

[Alexander Hamish Moore]

Alex barely contained a chuckle as the slave bolted across the city. It was rather amusing to see someone else work, perhaps that’s why the dynasties enjoyed it so much. After the boy ran out of sight, Alex turned back to the ocean, as a gentle breeze washed over his face. Kenash was a far cry from his home. He couldn’t remember if Syliras even had a chocolate shop, not that he would be able to bring himself to taste it, not with the smell of 50 thousand people being crammed together. That was something he couldn’t stand. The breeze carried the smells away here, and he sometimes enjoyed the natural smell of the swamp. It was better than the odor of people he didn’t know or like. Here, you could get away from that. Here, they had fresh chocolate.

Timothy had returned rather quickly, and handed Alex two small bars wrapped in waxy paper. They were small, but they had noticeable weight. The slave boy sat down on some stacked crates, he was obviously deflated.

Alex grinned, and handed the boy one of the bars of chocolate, “Petch the magistrate.” What was the point of having chocolate if you have to share it with stuffy government officials, and not kids who probably couldn’t remember the last they even had chocolate. Alex peeled open the wax paper, and sniffed the bar. It was fresh, and strong. The handful of times he had chocolate before were put to shame by this single bar.

Alex waited for the slave boy to take his share of chocolate before biting in his own bar. It was sweet, with a hint of bitter cocoa, and myriad tastes that Alex became lost in. This was a good investment, he thought.