Solo The Point and Purpose

[Konrad Venger]

40th Day of Spring, 516AV - The Kenash Auction Hall

Hanway's fidgeting was beginning to annoy Marshal. The man seemed to be inventing new ways to announce his nervousness to the world.

At first it was just his twitching fingers and twiddling thumbs. That was easy enough to ignore. But as the bells wore on, his casual exterior cracked and the pacing began. The Sitai scion had left the veranda to lunch under the cool fans of his slaves, only to find the slaver still standing there, still staring at the road leading into the West Bank... and now chewing his nails.

"Hanway?" No response. Still staring, sweating and spitting little bits of nail over the balcony. Marshal rolled his eyes. "Hanway?!"

"Hmm?"

"Can you please sit down? You look... untidy."

"They should be here by now." The man grumbled with his harsh Sunberth accent, a potpourri of language dragged through a gutter before being thrown into the Common language. "Past noon and still nothing."

"Calm yourself," Marshal said, reclining in his chair, trying in vain to ignore the lull before the chaos of teh afternoon auctions. A team of his agents were scuttling around the Hall, taking orders here and there, relaying orders to a dozen or more servants and guards, collecting money and doling out flesh in return. "Things move slowly around here. You know this well, my friend. Tou've been here long enough."

"Too bloody right..."

Slap

Hanway snarled as he always did when he smacked another buzzing little bastard into the next world. He must have killed thousands by that day, and still he felt that blip of rage whenever he did it. Couldn't they just leave him alone? Weren't there countless beings fatter than him to chew on? How did these people live like this, forever sweaty and burning by a stinking swamp?

Then the slaver's hand would wander to the tattoo across his chest. Sometimes scratching, sometimes rubbing, or just touching, but always his hand would be drawn. That was why. The Brotherhood. They had made him what he was, dragged him up from a racket selling kidnapped orphans to the brothels, to handling all their business in Kenash, center of the Cyphrus slave trade.

Hanway would not forget his masters' generosity and trust. Likewise, he could not forget the times he'd seen failure punished by them.

Won't be just your life, he reminded himself, wringing his hands together as he willed wagons to appear on the road. Your tongue, then your balls, then the brand and bang, off you go to the deepest, shittiest salt mine to die until your back breaks under the weight.

The Brotherhood of Chains had exterminated all competition in the slaving district of Sunberth. It could teach these Dynasty brats much about fear and brutality.

"Well since you agree," Marshal said, gesturing to the seat next to him. "Get off your feet and-"

"Is the time right?" Oh, gods, man, calm the petch down, already. "Are you sure this is-"

"Hanway, if you're seriously going to ask me if it really is the fortieth day of the season..."

Marshal left the rest of the threat unsaid, relying on his iron-coated tone to carry the message. Truth be told, he wasn't much of a fighter, and he knew it. Everyone knew it. But that didn't mean he wasn't useful.

No, he thought as his girl peeled another grape from the bunch and gave it to him. Even better. Essential.

His brothers and sisters and cousins might tease him, but Marshal knew the Sitai would be far less wealthy without the Auction Hall, not to mention every other Dynasty. But that meant he had to be a people person, a talker, a negotiator, and that in turn meant he had to deal with a legion of buyers and sellers every day. Today, one of that cast was Hanway.

"No... well..."

"Oh, sit down and have some wine, man."

Hanway took his advice and planted himself in the seat next to his erstwhile associate. A slave immediately offered him a drink and he took water, knuckles cracking across the boy's face when he spilled a few drops across his breeches. Marshal sighed. No civilizing some people.

"You know how important this is to me."

"You have mentioned it once or twice. A day. For a season."

"Scoff all you want," Hanway said in-between guzzles. "You've got your family and your plantation to fall back on. If I fail the Brotherhood-"

"I think, my friend, you overestimate how much value my family puts on its members. I have plenty of siblings and cousins. One too many mistakes, and the head of the house will cast me down without a qualm."

Hanway snorted softly and let his head loll back on the scented cushion. Maybe he'd have Sitai bring him something for his nerves. Just to take the edge off. His family seemed to excel in that area.

"More like Sunberth than I thought. I mean, not-"

A cry from the road cut him off and jerked his gaze up. Dust rising. A rider galloping down the street and scattering people as he went. A cry going up from him, the same one every few ticks, spreading the word blurry and burbled until he swung by the Auction Hall and then-

"Caravan! Caravan coming! Slaves! Wagons of slaves!"

"Thank the petching gods," Hanway said, sagging against the balcony. "About damn time."

A handful of chimes later, the road was clogged so much that everyone else had to make way and petching lump it. Wagon after wagon rolled through the mud, teams of oxen braying and huffing. Sellswords trotted on skinny geldings beside them, decked out in pilfered armor, looted blades, some bearing scalps and scars and arms heavy with ink and convict brands.

The onlookers, slave and freeborn and Dynasty, cooed at them and pointed, but they were soon forgotten. It was the livestock that carried their attention. Already Marshal could see well-heeled Dynasty types stabbing out with their fingers, picking out the choice cuts from the dozens, scores of slaves being wheeled into the belly of his business.

"Better late than never, I suppose.

[Konrad Venger]

It started as a glow, as the previous day darkened and drew to a close. Beyond the distant ranks of low, wet trees, like a bonfire that had spread too far and too wild. Konrad had squatted over his lunch that night and watched it, felt it glimmer against his eyes. That was Kenash. When the plains turned to swamp, the grass to marsh and trees, you were close. Navigate through the quagmire, and she would be waiting for you.

"-with her legs petching spread."

Three Eyes finished the well-worn greeting that traveling men gave new cities the world over. He was riding Konrad's horse, whom he'd yet to find a name for, and feeling pretty spiffy for a man who hadn't bathed in going on eight days.

Ha. Like that's a first. Or even a record.

"Ain't like the 'Berth!"

Konrad nodded at that from the wagon, sitting bolt upright as the caravan slithered into town like some long, stinking serpent. No, the little shit had a point, there. Sunberth was a city built close, tight, on top of itself. Torn down and rebuilt dozens of times over the years. From the walls to Baroque Bay, space was forever at a premium and the structures of brick and stone loomed over you, leaning over the streets, blocking Syna at every turn.

Kenash was a world apart, as befit a place that was on the other side of it. About the only similarities Konrad could see were the bricks and, well, the people. Slaves wandered, sometimes naked, so slouched and broken-spirited that they barely even glanced at the wagon-loads of their soon-to-be kin arriving. The well-to-do strutted and flounced, dependent on gender (or persuasion). Everyone else just made their way, though their arrival meant that way became quite a bit narrower.

"That the Auction Hall?"

"Aye, that's the one," Stash the carter said next to him. "The columns out front?"

"Lot of 'em have got columns."

"Nah, the big ones."

Konrad wanted to give him a patented stare for sheer helpfulness, but on the other hand... the Auction House did somewhat stick out. Low but vast, spread out across half the street and then some, columns were thrust into the ground around it, tall and white like carved obelisks. Higher up, Konrad could see excited figures on balconies gesture at then, including a curious couple staring at him in particular.

Pretty boy looks like... wadayacallit... Dynasty? Aye, that's what Trevin said. The other one, though...?

"What's he pointing at?"

"Looks like he wants us to go 'round the back and unload the cargo."

Konrad blinked at the frantically pointing man with thinning hair and so much sweat it looked like he'd just stepped out of a bath. His eyes were wide and his lips were just the same, trying to sound at words over the hubbub of the growing crowd, the cries and yowls of animals. The other one, better-dressed and far more casual, just finished eating the fruit in his hand and walking swiftly away.

"On the leeeeeeeft!"

Fangor's roar from the lead wagon split the street like an ax through wet wood, and it occurred to Konrad that most of the carters didn't need to hear that. They'd been to Kenash before. The older ones had been to everywhere in Cyphrus, Sylira and maybe Kalea, too. They didn't just know how to get to the Auction House, they knew the best grog shop, the best whores (not just the cheapest), the loosest dice and the cleanest cards in the city. But Fngor was the boss, and he had to act like it.

"Let's just geddin here and get paid."

Hanway was nearly playing with himself with joy. Wagon after wagon passed by him, and he was surprised to see none of them were empty. Few were even half that! Usually one of them had been converted into a traveling miscellany, carrying everything the mules or oxen or horses couldn't. Costs of the journey, being so long from cities and civilization: you lost cargo. Livestock got sick and died, or ran away and died later.

Not the case this time. Gods, they're all full. All ten!

He was licking his lips as he watched the wagons wheel hard left and then vanish around the back. Marshal's people were probably already heaving open the gates, to the yard and the basement, his guards without any compunction or remorse as they readied those wooden cages for the newest influx.

Hanwys glanced at Syna and forgot the heat, the sweat, the constant-

Slap!

"Bastards!"

Fine, did didn't quite forget them, but as his sandals fwapped across the stone floors, his mind was already giddy with calculations. The next auction was a mere bell away, and then he'd have maybe a hundred prime specimens to launch into the wealthy, wanting waters of the Dynasties. Even after Sitai had taken his generous cut and expenses had been paid, the Brotherhood was looking at a profit of...

The slaver whistled softly as he flapped his hand out and two silent slaves opened the back door for him. He barely broke his stride as the mud under the courtyard squelched under his feet and he quite forgot the five mizas he's parted with for them.

After today, he could definitely afford more. But before he could get too excited, a tall, rangy man in a black jacket jumped down from the leading wagon, one hand holding a black hat onto his head. Hanway squinted and the avalanche of numbers pleasurably sloshing through his mind was stymied for a moment. That sword. The way it curved, hadn't he seen that-

Then the man looked him in the face, and Hanway's lips parted in surprise. The sword was hard to place, but that face was not easily forgotten. The man blinked a few times, apparently thinking the same thing... until a smile cracked his face like a clay pot and his chuckle rippled through the air.

"Well, petch me, it's-"

"Venger. What in the hells are you doing here?"

Konrad looked around the courtyard, filling with wagons and beasts and cargo and sellswords like a tub filling with water. Guards in crisp, clean uniforms were already flitting around them, waiting for the carters to unlock the cages so they could start getting the slaves inside. The sellswords waited until the gates were closed again before dismounting, converging around Fangor. Their boss on the trail, and the man paying them.

He looked back and shrugged.

"Me job."

[Konrad Venger]

"Hang on lemme get this straight in me head..."

Konrad sighed, crossed his arms and could have given a petch if it made him look like child throwing a paddy. Gods above, how many times did he have to explain this?! Three Eyes, Hastus, Vex, all the rest had plopped their tired arses onto the chairs in the shade and were enjoying cold drinks and cheap food, an extra reward for their work on the trail. Konrad longed to join them, but for now...

"Gods, Handsy, how many-"

"That's not me name anymore!" Said the former Sunberth boy, puffing out his pigeon chest as he spoke. "It's Hanway, and I'm the Brotherhood's man in Kenash!"

"Never said you weren't, mate."

"Look," Fangor said from beneath the ham-like hand over his face. "Fascinatin' as this little reunion is, can we just get these lads paid so we can geddon with this?"

Hanway gaped anew, so wide and deep Konrad was sure his jaw would dislocate. But the facts were staring him in the face, and like he'd said, he was the Brotherhood's man, this was their caravan, and these were their guards.

Even this rangy bastard.

"A'right," he said with a huff, Konrad smirking as some of his old gutter accent seeped back into his speech. He adjusted his cuffs and sat behind his desk, snapping his fingers to get two slaves lugging a heavy chest that shook and jangled as it was dumped onto it. "Let's get this over with..."

Konrad had survived so much over the seasons, he was almost expecting something more... dramatic. But that was only a small part of him. He knew from experience that after the blood and the mania and the red mist over his eyes, the screams and the bellowing, the part with the shiny stuff was never that special. It was much like it was that day, just bigger.

A mousey little man with cheap seeing-glasses, poring over his figures and parchment, counting out coins with the monotonous precision of an automaton. Behind him Konrad watched the slaves unloaded, lines of chained misery, eyes cast down and hopes shattered. Gods, he wouldn't miss that sight, even-

Yes, you will. Part of you always-

He bit down on the thought just as he saw her. The fact she was so far away was like a tug at his guts. For days, weeks she'd been close to him, sharing his tent, his food, the air he breathed. Now she was across the yard and a thousand miles away. Golden hair now lank, unwashed, but still drawing his eyes. The Auction Hall guards were leering, making obscene gestures, rolling their tongues and Konrad-

"Venger? There a problem?"

He snapped back to reality and shoved Coryn from his mind. His hand was at his sword hilt, for the sake of the gods, and he had money to be made! What was he going to do? Launch himself at her, hack his way through a dozen guards - and probably Fangor; big bastard isn't sentimental - and spirit her away? It was a fantasy, a dream, all forged from her wyrd, that mark on her body.

It wasn't real. None of it. But this...

He reached down and picked up the bag of gold. Tossed it from hand to hand... and grinned. Gods, such a weight. More than he'd made for one season's work in her petching life, and he was worried about some slave?

... this is very real. And it's yours. Unlike her.

"None at all, Handsy," he said, pausing just long enough to see the wee shyke puff up like a blowfish before turning on his heel and marching away. "Eyes? Les' find some decent grub. We got coin t'spread around."

Three Eyes shambled after him like he'd been doing for a decade, and Konrad didn't turn around. He didn't look back. He forced himself not to.

She's gone, he told himself, and every step he took eased the pain, and dug it deeper in him. Time to move on.

[Cocoon]

A short little thread that announces Konrad's arrival on Kenash. Combining humor, nostalgia, and proper description with a fluid writing made this thread quite cute.

Look below for the rewards!

 

Konrad Venger

XP

• Observation +2
  
• Socialization +2
  
• Philosophy +1

Lores

• Kenash: The Epicenter of the Swamp
  
• Kenash: The Auction Hall
  
• Kenash: Trades with Sunberth
• Philosophy: Reality over fantasy

New Rumor

• Rumor has it that Konrad Venger arrived into Kenash as a slaver with a big caravan, coming from Sunberth.

 

Notes

There aren't many rewards I can give you, as the first post for example was null in terms of skill and knowledge gain. Still, you did get some lores and left a good story behind - this thread was merely a comma into Konrad's journey. From a slaver facing all the dangers of travel in the Sea of Grass to another soul wandering Kenash. Let's see what Konrad does in the future!

I really enjoyed the third post, precisely with the mentions of Coryn. It made me feel horrible for Konrad, to be honest. That's always a good sign, making your character seem more human and giving the readers something that draws emotion with a sentiment they can relate to. It shows a different face to Konrad, too. I want to imagine that he's suffered so much that he was forced to bury everything deep inside him, and thus now he's only this ugly carcass walking without any sort of joy. I can be wrong, or I can be right, but that we'll never know for Konrad won't let us know. Perhaps someday!


As far as critique, there is not much. I believe you portrayed Marshall, the Dynast, as more casual than he should be, for he is supposed to be a posh and experienced Dynast that doesn't just lean back and enjoy life like a Sunberthian. However, that's just my opinion. The thing I can realyl assure you is that there are no mud roads in Kenash, at least not in the city itself. Imported cobblestone worked by the Radacke form the roads of Kenash, and while they are rather muddy due to all the humidity and constant rain, it wouldn't be anything unbearable. That is all I can think of. Enjoy your rewards!

Please PM me if you have any questions about your grade, of if you think I've missed something.

Happy writing!