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xremeidiot . In a world where Humans and Anthros have just concluded a lengthy and devastating war, a freed slave must find for himself where he belongs.
(Note: The entire 8,600+ word story may not fit in the text block below, so what's posted there is but a preview. Please download the PDF above to enjoy the whole piece.)
Unbound
By: DankeDonuts
https://www.furaffinity.net/user/dankedonuts/
The iron collar slid from Caiden’s neck, taking with it a weight many times its size. The scrap-dressed man stood straighter for its loss. It spent but a moment in the grip of the Horse who’d unlocked it before being sent high and back away from them both. It landed with a hard klink against a pile of its pitted brethren. The young man had not finished rubbing at its red reminder before being half dismissed and half shoved out of the small, wood-lined room into a larger chamber. This a gathering place of soot-stained stone and wide-open spaces. A repurposed galley, perhaps?
Fur-covered hands directed him into one of several long lines. Humans of both sexes and all ages were their inhabitants. None of them spoke. None of them dared. None of them even made any motion which might be used as a premise to defend themselves against a rebellion that no longer needed to come. Not even Caiden. For he knew that, somehow, some way, the day’s proceedings could be undone if the dozen or more armed and armored Hoof-folk lining the chamber walls had a mind to undo it. Each warrior carried a halberd, and each chestplate bore the sigil of two horns framing a sun. None of them were smiling.
A number of Humans passed the wait time looking at those very guards; some to gloat, some to scowl, some to memorize. Others looked to the wide-open double-door, opposite the smaller one he’d come through, which led to a busy and crowded street to pass the time. Most looked to their left forearms, the undersides of which bore marks of ownership that would never fall away or fade. Caiden himself bore three of these. A pair of crossed hammers. Three dots in a triangle. A leafless tree. All raised above his sun-baked skin, shining a slick red-brown.
At the head of each line set a thick wooden table. Behind the one he was set to approach sat an even thicker Boar. By the time Caiden reached them, he’d heard the speech he was to be given enough times to repeat it himself. It was spoken with a bored soldier’s drawl, read from a scroll barely looked upon. “I am obligated to inform you that in accordance with the Treaty Of Rose Hill, you are hereby granted full citizenship within both the lands of the Ungol Hegemony and those claimed by the Human-Simian Alliance. Furthermore, again in accordance with said Treaty, the Hegemony does hereby remunerate your service to the state-” The figure’s tireless drone did not allow for any insertion of the word ‘slavery’ on Caiden’s part “- with the sum total of twenty five pieces of silver.” He moved just such a portion of coinage to the front of the table. Then hiked a lethargic thumb to Caiden’s left. “Move along.”
The metal glinted up at him, reflecting the torchlight, waiting for his hands. A modest sum, to be sure, but more wealth than the man had ever handled in his life. He was afraid to touch it -- old habits yet to die out -- until he was suddenly terrified that if he didn’t do just that then it would be taken away. “You didn’t give me anything to put it in?”
The scroll-reader offered no not so much as a glance in his direction. “Ran out of satchels. Move along.”
“There’s plenty of shackles, if you be needin’ one of those!” A female voice cackled. The former slave turned just barely long enough to make out a snickering Donkey among the room’s guards. Then scrabbled the bounty into his rough palms and raced to the waiting door.
At the edge of the portal, a soft breeze cooled the top a head that was shaved down to brown stubble. His beard was in a similar state of nearly-bare. High cheeks framed sharp, dark eyes. Curious as they were uneasy. A simple tunic of brown and breeches of grey, both made of scratchy linen, were his sole possessions. Along with a belt of woven rope, and two shoes need of replacement before the autumn came to bring cold and wet to the land.
A single step later, he was truly a free man.
One with nowhere to go.
. . .
--FOR MORE, DOWNLOAD THE PDF ABOVE--
xremeidiot . In a world where Humans and Anthros have just concluded a lengthy and devastating war, a freed slave must find for himself where he belongs.(Note: The entire 8,600+ word story may not fit in the text block below, so what's posted there is but a preview. Please download the PDF above to enjoy the whole piece.)
Unbound
By: DankeDonuts
https://www.furaffinity.net/user/dankedonuts/
The iron collar slid from Caiden’s neck, taking with it a weight many times its size. The scrap-dressed man stood straighter for its loss. It spent but a moment in the grip of the Horse who’d unlocked it before being sent high and back away from them both. It landed with a hard klink against a pile of its pitted brethren. The young man had not finished rubbing at its red reminder before being half dismissed and half shoved out of the small, wood-lined room into a larger chamber. This a gathering place of soot-stained stone and wide-open spaces. A repurposed galley, perhaps?
Fur-covered hands directed him into one of several long lines. Humans of both sexes and all ages were their inhabitants. None of them spoke. None of them dared. None of them even made any motion which might be used as a premise to defend themselves against a rebellion that no longer needed to come. Not even Caiden. For he knew that, somehow, some way, the day’s proceedings could be undone if the dozen or more armed and armored Hoof-folk lining the chamber walls had a mind to undo it. Each warrior carried a halberd, and each chestplate bore the sigil of two horns framing a sun. None of them were smiling.
A number of Humans passed the wait time looking at those very guards; some to gloat, some to scowl, some to memorize. Others looked to the wide-open double-door, opposite the smaller one he’d come through, which led to a busy and crowded street to pass the time. Most looked to their left forearms, the undersides of which bore marks of ownership that would never fall away or fade. Caiden himself bore three of these. A pair of crossed hammers. Three dots in a triangle. A leafless tree. All raised above his sun-baked skin, shining a slick red-brown.
At the head of each line set a thick wooden table. Behind the one he was set to approach sat an even thicker Boar. By the time Caiden reached them, he’d heard the speech he was to be given enough times to repeat it himself. It was spoken with a bored soldier’s drawl, read from a scroll barely looked upon. “I am obligated to inform you that in accordance with the Treaty Of Rose Hill, you are hereby granted full citizenship within both the lands of the Ungol Hegemony and those claimed by the Human-Simian Alliance. Furthermore, again in accordance with said Treaty, the Hegemony does hereby remunerate your service to the state-” The figure’s tireless drone did not allow for any insertion of the word ‘slavery’ on Caiden’s part “- with the sum total of twenty five pieces of silver.” He moved just such a portion of coinage to the front of the table. Then hiked a lethargic thumb to Caiden’s left. “Move along.”
The metal glinted up at him, reflecting the torchlight, waiting for his hands. A modest sum, to be sure, but more wealth than the man had ever handled in his life. He was afraid to touch it -- old habits yet to die out -- until he was suddenly terrified that if he didn’t do just that then it would be taken away. “You didn’t give me anything to put it in?”
The scroll-reader offered no not so much as a glance in his direction. “Ran out of satchels. Move along.”
“There’s plenty of shackles, if you be needin’ one of those!” A female voice cackled. The former slave turned just barely long enough to make out a snickering Donkey among the room’s guards. Then scrabbled the bounty into his rough palms and raced to the waiting door.
At the edge of the portal, a soft breeze cooled the top a head that was shaved down to brown stubble. His beard was in a similar state of nearly-bare. High cheeks framed sharp, dark eyes. Curious as they were uneasy. A simple tunic of brown and breeches of grey, both made of scratchy linen, were his sole possessions. Along with a belt of woven rope, and two shoes need of replacement before the autumn came to bring cold and wet to the land.
A single step later, he was truly a free man.
One with nowhere to go.
. . .
--FOR MORE, DOWNLOAD THE PDF ABOVE--
Category Story / Fanart
Species Human
Size 120 x 120px
File Size 443.2 kB
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