Carnival of Shadows (Ch 6 – Part 1)

After that confrontation, four days passed. Vermon spent most of his time with Akinos in the Imperial Palace, training together in armed combating, horse racing, or discussing world politics.

His evenings, however, were less peaceful because he developed the habit of heading to the isolation room as soon as he came home to pick fights with Orb or punish him without a convincing reason.

That new habit he had never gotten into with any of his late slaves. It was his nature to ignore their existence as long as they carried out their duties properly.

The only form of interaction with them was disciplining them in the isolation room, normally occurring in the first week of their enslavement.

No servant in the house understood the secret behind Vermon’s actions; their best guess was an intense hatred of his new slave.

Akinos, however, enjoyed listening to Vermon’s constant complaints about his slave and refrained from giving his opinion on anything Vermon did and said.

On the fifth night, Vermon teleported himself from his bedchamber to the isolation room. He saw Orb sitting cross-legged in his usual corner while observing one of the servants, who sat opposite him and busied himself with carefully cutting a piece of leather.

The square-shaped piece was brown in color with two narrow holes, and attached to its two sides was a black strap. Vermon guessed that Orb intended to make himself a mask from that ugly thing and cover his eyes with it.

“What’s going on here?” Vermon questioned, looking daggers at Orb.

The young servant jerked in fright and, without looking at his master, jumped to his feet and pointed to the material scattered on the ground before them.

“Master, Orb caught me when I finished changing his bandages and threatened to kill me if I didn’t help him make his mask,” he cried as he pointed at Orb’s right hand. “A strange light was coming from that hand, and he tried to shoot it at me. He is the one who forced me to provide materials and sit with him to cut and sew the mask.”

At that point, Orb sat up straight and steadily fixed his eyes on Vermon. The latter asked in apparent vexation, “Light? Is what this boy said true?”

“Yes,” Orb answered calmly, cautiously, and without evasion.

“What light? Can you still use your powers?” Vermon asked.

“I’m unsure.”

“You are unsure?”

Orb quietly turned his right hand in front of him and continued, “It didn’t last for long. Once I generated it in my palm, it faded away. Maybe because I am not fully recovered.” Then, he looked up at the boy. “But it was enough to frighten him, I believe.”

To Vermon, that was a troublesome situation. Orb’s possessing his own powers, generated by his own energy, was considered a threat to Vermon’s ability to exercise his will and authority over Orb in his house.

The laws of Uthus would not permit slaves to pose a threat or danger to their masters by having powers of any kind.

Therefore, Vermon kicked the material that rested in front of the two and commanded the servant to get everything out of the room, including Orb’s medication.

The boy proceeded to gather in his hands the leather piece, strap, threads, and scissors, as well as Orb’s medications, and quickly ran out of the room.

Enraged, Vermon addressed Orb, “How dare you? How dare you, you worthless slave, use your powers in my house? How dare you threaten my servants and use force without fear or sense of guilt?”

“Do you know what guilt is?”

Orb’s question was blunt. He was curious to learn about the idea of guilt from the perspective of an elite, a descendant of Uthus, like Vermon.

However, Vermon considered that question an ill-intentioned criticism and did not like it, so he grabbed Orb by his lapels and lifted him in the air.

“I warn you! I may cut your tongue and hands off at any moment. I may even mark you with another seal on a place you won’t like!” He continued viciously, “I suppose you can move by now and face me. I’ll teach you a lesson you won’t forget tomorrow, so get ready."

At that moment, Orb realized that he had finally regained his sense of smell after many days of losing it because of his illness.

The scent of Vermon reached his lungs. It was a pleasant fragrance that was not stifling: something evoking a unique and strange mixture of rare herbs and dewy soil found only in the Suspendrom Valley[1], a hidden valley said to exist in the southeastern of the Empamalangon Kingdom.

It was a familiar aromatic scent that he knew well and could distinguish from thousands of fragrances and perfumes. This scent made his heart uncontrollably throb, and his thoughts scattered until Vermon threw him to the ground.

“Wearing a mask will only make you uglier than you already are! I will not allow you to wear it. Everyone shall see you, and you shall become the laughingstock of the capital.”

“...”

With lips slightly parting, Orb fixed his damaged eyes on Vermon in a strange silence. Though Vermon paid him no attention, Orb’s silence irritated him.

“Aren’t you going to say something?”

“...”

Orb’s eyes were still glued to Vermon’s indistinct features, and his lips were still slightly apart as if he wanted to say something.

He had a secret urge to see Vermon’s face clearly and examine its features carefully. He felt the sudden surging of an unseen bond, forming and shrouding the two: was it familiarity? Longing? Fear? He really could not tell.

That scent shook the sense of emptiness within him and evoked a distant memory in his troubled mind, yet a sudden shock hit his head and swept over his body instantly. It was intensely agonizing that it felt like ravaging his body, keeping him paralyzed in the same spot where Vermon threw him.

Strange! I have never experienced this sensation before. Maybe Arkosian medicine is not good for me. He thought to himself, I should stop taking it.

What brought him to the present moment was Vermon suddenly kicking him in the stomach and leaving him squirming in pent-up pain. Orb crawled back to his corner with difficulty and leaned against the wall.

He felt an urge to weep but resisted it. It was not because of Vermon’s kick but because of his unexplained emotions and confusion. Therefore, he planned first to find ways to go to Vermon’s private library to search for the secrets of Uthus’ seal, which kept him under Vermon’s control.

He needed his freedom first. His slavery bothered him so much and made him angry that he could not find an outlet, mainly since his condition differed from the servants whom Vermon hired, fired, and paid money for their services.

He also suspected that his illness was the cause of his inability to recall memories and fully use his powers, so he did not think too much about it.

I better not try to recall my past now since I am still recovering. But what about my power? What if tomorrow comes with more pain and inability to defend myself? How can I protect myself against Vermon’s abuse?

Orb did not sleep that night. He was haunted by these venomous thoughts and was shivering with cold and trepidation.

* * *

The next day, Vermon sent his servants to get Orb out of the isolation room, making him wear a thin white shirt, pants of the same color, and flat leather shoes.

He ordered them to remove the bandages on both his feet and sealed hand, which were relatively healed but slightly inflamed.

Vermon also deliberately violated the physician’s instructions when he forced Orb to remove the bandages from his back.

When the servant boy who oversees changing Orb’s bandages saw Orb’s back looking hideous and his wounds irritated, he suspected that his master channeled some of his Uthusian energy into the whip when he flogged Orb.

Whether intentionally or accidentally, it left the skin in a terrible condition that required weeks to heal.

Meanwhile, Orb did not understand the necessity of removing the bandages that day and felt uneasy about it. He considered resisting but held back as that would provoke Vermon into retaliating against him with even more violence.

Another servant took Orb to the front courtyard with his feet and hands bound with ropes. Luckily for him, walking on his feet was bearable after receiving sufficient rest and treatment for a few days.

When he stood next to Vermon, who mounted his horse, Orb was allowed to wear a black hooded cloak to cover his body and the upper half of his face.

As for Vermon, he looked magnificent, wearing a thick red coat, white pants, and long leather shoes with medium-height straight-sided heels. The wide belt around his waist carried his axe and whip, and over his head was a peculiar-looking cap.

The cylindrical-shaped cap, draped with black fabric, was lined with rows of gold and silver coins covering the entire headpiece and revealing the position of the wearer and his stature among the sons of Uthus.

It was a cold afternoon, and before the two of them set off to their destination, Orb attempted to examine Vermon’s sharp features at the time but failed because of Vermon’s restless movements on his horseback as he spoke sideways to his servants.

Orb was startled as Vermon unleashed his energy, shaping it into a metallic strap that shot toward Orb’s neck, encircling it like a collar. The sudden constriction caused Orb discomfort, but with his hands and feet already restrained, he had no choice but to endure it.

Using his Uthusian energy again, Vermon conjured a short red chain from his palm, which gradually became metallic as it attached itself to the collar around Orb’s neck.

“Is all of this truly necessary?” Orb inquired, his voice tinged with defiance.

“Yes, slave,” Vermon retorted curtly, his gaze fixed ahead.

“Are the ropes insufficient?” Orb pressed.

“One more objection, and I’ll strip you naked,” Vermon warned sharply.

Orb worried about the prospect of further torment, envisioning himself being dragged mercilessly as Vermon’s horse began to move through the gate. However, to his surprise, Vermon’s horse continued its elegant stride, prompting Orb to follow suit despite his underlying anxiety about Vermon’s potential to increase the pace. Summoning his courage, Orb endeavored to mask his trepidation with a feigned composure.

“Where are you taking me?” He asked.

“Carnival of Shadows,” Vermon replied after a long silence and without looking at him.

The road from Vermon’s house to the Forest of Shadows was long but smooth and easy. Its red dirt was strewn with bushes of wildflowers and lined up with ancient pine trees to the woodland entrance.

“Carnival?”

For a moment, Orb thought it was an ordinary carnival like the ones in other monarchies, a popular occasion involving processions, music, and delicious food, and everyone, young and old, frequents it to enjoy their time.

However, Vermon proceeded to explain the nature of that carnival. “It is not an ordinary carnival; it is so called because it is held in the heart of the Forest of Shadows, and in which only Uthusian masters gather with their slaves to play games and enjoy their time.”

“Are you going to sell me?” Orb sounded anxious.

Vermon glanced at him, amused to see him worried. “Uthus’ law forbids selling slaves in our empire, and as long as you are sealed in my name, you belong to me forever,” he answered.

Orb began to slow down as he turned his damaged eyes toward Vermon. “But I don’t want to go,” he objected.

Vermon let out a chuckle.

“You have no choice. You are my slave; you follow my will.” He looked at Orb with bright eyes and vaguely added, “And you’re the highlight of the day.”

* * *