Carnival of Shadows (Ch 7 – Part 1)

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.”

* * *

Orb stopped for a moment, but Vermon yanked him forcefully to keep moving alongside him. “It is too early to beat you, so don’t make me!” Vermon warned sharply.

“So you intend to beat me later in public?” Orb’s heart was pounding in turmoil when he heard Vermon answer eagerly, “Of course! To discipline you!”

Orb realized that Vermon intended to humiliate him at the carnival as he had promised him days ago.

“Why must you do this?”

“I’m warning you, slave! You better move on your own!”

So Orb went staggering along, not knowing what to say or how to escape and save himself, yet the thought of retaliation haunted him.

Vermon, I won’t let you have it your way! Orb promised.

* * *

When the two reached the forest, it was relatively dark. The density of the leaves on the strange, naturally blue-tinted trees, along with Vermon’s silence, was not at all reassuring to Orb’s racing heart.

Still mounting his horse, Vermon startled Orb when he suddenly pulled off his cloak without giving him any explanation and glanced from right to left as if he was afraid someone would see what he did.

It was customary for masters to accompany their slaves to the festival with a minimum of clothes, for they were not allowed to cover their slaves with a cloak, a hat, or any clothing that made them comfortable or showed any extravagance in front of their masters.

Vermon was among the few who rejected this custom, especially in the case of Orb, whose body, although emaciated and thick with wounds, would attract the Arkosians because it leaked dark energy, arousing their appetite to chase, assault, and take him.

That was a rare abnormality that only a certain kind of slaves possessed. Commonly referred to as quarries, they would be treated as animals under pursuit or taken in hunting.

Therefore, a slave would be hunted and attacked by other masters, even if the quarry belonged to someone else, and this was something that the proud, possessive Vermon would never accept and allow.

* * *

The road narrowed and extended until it ended with a vast amphitheater with a central space surrounded by tiers of seats made of flat stone slabs carved and brought from the mountains.

The stone slabs descended downward until they stopped at a circular platform of a wide area floored with flat, white stones. There were pillars of luminous glass lamps distributed around the amphitheater.

As for the spectators, they were known to be nobles and sons of high officials in the Imperial Palace.

They came to watch the procession, the music, the games, and Orb, the eleventh slave of the Imperial Glorious Knight, Vermon.

On the other side was a full row of men dressed in red coats, white pants, and a prominent cylindrical-shaped black cap with gold and silver coins, just like Vermon’s. Those were the owners of the slaves who would be participating in the controversial carnival.

The Carnival of Shadows was an annual event held for one day in the Forest of Shadows. However, it was neither authorized nor recognized in the empire, given the level of brutality and abuse the slaves would be subjected to with the consent of their masters.

Yet, none of the high-ranking officials could interfere because the carnival was considered a form of private entertainment started with and organized by the empire’s nobility, who never officially discussed or announced it.

The citizens of the empire, who heard rumors about it, were conservative about its nature and would never mention it in their private talks and social gatherings.

They believed that they should not intervene in the nobility’s private affairs. And they knew that whoever tried to sneak into the forest on the day of the carnival never made it out alive.

* * *

Vermon left his horse tied to a tree trunk and dragged Orb behind him with the end of the chain extending from his neck collar without looking at him.

When Vermon began descending the stairs with Orb following him with anxious steps, a prodigious beating of drums was heard.

At that moment, Orb believed that the Carnival of Shadows had started with the arrival of the two, and everyone was waiting for him eagerly in that dark and cold secluded place.

Orb felt shivers of unease suddenly sweeping over him and did not know what to do.

* * *

Vermon and Orb were surrounded by two rows of boys wearing red hooded cloaks covering their muscular physiques and heads. The chilling-designed masks that hid their faces were painted white and adorned with gold.

Each one of the boys was holding and beating a golden-adorned big drum in front of him in perfect rhythm with the others. Attached to their drums were red cords and strange amulets.

Behind each drummer, a bell ringer held a medium-sized handbell with both hands and rang it in a slow, clockwise motion every time the beating stopped, creating melodious but eerie music.

The boys chanted in a thick, war-choir-like voice that awakened the fervor of the Uthusian spectators but sent chills of apprehension down the spine of Orb.

From the south, from the north,

We have come to dance for Uthus.

From the West, from the East,

We have come to sing for Uthus.

None deemed worthy of living,

Save the great sons of Uthus,

Long live the lineage,

Long live the glory of Uthus.

Then, the chorus got louder and louder, and the voices of those present in the amphitheater shook the forest by singing along with the choir and repeating the chilling lines with much vigor like an anthem.

Orb’s heart raced, his palms damp with sweat as he grappled with the realization of being reduced to an object, a mere spectacle in a dark and twisted event. Not only was he a stranger in this hostile land, struggling with its peculiar customs alone, but he also was alone with no friends, family, or anyone he could rely on for support and protection.

Trapped in the clutches of a sadistic man who had forcibly brought him here to inflict pain, Orb found himself powerless to escape. The watching crowd, hungry for the spectacle of his suffering, only added to his sense of isolation and despair. With no means of evasion, Orb confronted the harsh reality of his fate and the myriad evils awaiting him on this fateful day.

With only one blurry eye, he could see the sizes and distinctive colors of the choristers to his left and right, the spectators, and the other side of the arena where red-clothed devils were seated. That particular side increased his secret fears.

When Vermon and Orb descended the stairs, they were taken to the center of the white arena. While the two-line choir continued circling them and chanting, Vermon turned to face Orb, who seemed insignificant in size compared to Vermon at that moment.

“It will be your turn soon, so be reasonable and do not act foolishly,” he warned.

“My turn to do what? You haven’t explained,” Orb felt his lips dry as he asked his question in great concern.

“Your ignorance will add to my pleasure,” Vermon smirked.

Orb extended the slender fingers of his right hand, seizing Vermon’s wrist with a surprising strength that prompted the latter to furrow his brow in bewilderment. Sensing Orb’s trembling, damp fingers, Vermon realized the slave was gripped by fear and panic.

Perhaps he’s considering withdrawing and pleading for my mercy, Vermon speculated.

Observing Orb’s hesitance, Vermon’s own disdain deepened. He watched as Orb struggled to speak, his pride preventing him from submitting to humiliation before his adversary.

“What’s the matter?” Vermon's brow furrowed in irritation.

“I...” Orb began, faltering under Vermon’s scrutiny.

“What?” Vermon interrupted, a sneer forming on his lips. “Cat got your tongue?”

“I—I refuse to be part of this,” Orb declared earnestly.

“What?” Vermon’s smile twisted into a mocking grin, revealing his sharp fangs. Leaning closer to Orb, he fixed him with an intense gaze. “You think you have a choice? What happened to your arrogance? Too late for that now, Orb.”

“I admit I’m worried,” Orb stated, “but I am not a coward.”

The procession stopped at that moment, with the two gazing silently at each other. Two masked attendants wearing garments like those of the choristers came over to take Orb.

Vermon released his energy to dismiss the chain at will, causing it to glow before vanishing, leaving only the collar around Orb’s neck.  

Without resistance, Orb was taken to an all-wooden single-storied shed with the front side unenclosed. The construction was overseen by more than four armed attendants to ensure that no slave escaped the event.

Inside the small shed, more than fifty slaves were grouped like a flock of sheep and were forced to sit down with both legs tied as if they were being prepared to face slaughter or torture. 

These young men, who wore nothing but white pants, were sitting on the ground, despaired and lifeless, without seats or a comfortable rug beneath them.

At first, Orb did not sit but remained standing on one side, trying to recover his rapid breathing and calm his pounding heart, which feared the unknown awaiting him.

He then sat on one knee by the side of another slave. “Excuse me, can you describe to me what you see?” he asked.

The boy looked at Orb momentarily and realized he was blind. “You are lucky that you are blind—before you, there is only a bunch of devils and imminent death,” he sniveled.

* * *