Part 1

Greza stood in front of the slave’s quarters looking at the glowing building.  It was noon but it was raining and the Ork slaves inside had the lanterns burning.  She could smell their cooking fires and the wet soil.

She always smelled soil.  Her life was filled with soil.  While the bigger slaves (of different races) worked in the fields, she carried water to them and brought them their meals.  It was all she could do at ten years old. 

The glowing building was the building where Greza’s mother had died. She remembered the last thing mother ever told her. 

“Greza, that is a strong Ork name.  Remember that.  Be proud of who you are.  Be strong.”

Then she slipped back into sleep and died an hour later.  A few of the other slaves mourned her but none of them comforted the daughter. 

Greza was ignored by the other Ork slaves because she wasn’t full Ork.  She was ignored by the elf and human slaves because she was an Ork.  Her Dark Elf masters ignored her because she wasn’t supposed to exist.  No one knew who, or they wouldn’t say, but her father had been a Dark Elf.  It would have been an embarrassment if the father was known.  But mother had never told her. 

The wagon pulled up and the man in the oiled poncho looked down at her.  He was a human with a long pipe and short beard. 

“Where’s your things?”  The man asked.

Greza shook her head because she didn’t have any possessions, just the simple, grey dress she wore.  She didn’t even have shoes. 

The man jerked his head to tell her to get in the back of the wagon.  She scampered to the rear and climbed in.  The wagon was high but she had no problem climbing in.  She was already much stronger than she looked. 

Greza was a scrawny thing but easily twice as strong as a human or elf child her age.  An adult Ork was – some said – ten times stronger than an elf.  She was weak for an Ork child her age, but she was quicker.

She was also smarter.  The other slaves didn’t notice and Greza hid it, but she knew she was smarter.

The wagon plodded along the mud roads and led her away from the slaves’ quarters toward the main gate.  The manor had light glowing from every window and she could hear music. 

They had sold her and were glad to be rid of her.

The guards barely gave them a glance as they passed through the gate.  She had never left the walls of the estate before.  In some places the wall was little more than a knee high line of stones, but she knew if she crossed it she’d be beaten or worse. 

They traveled toward town through a tunnel of tall trees.  She’d never seen the town but she heard the maids and other free servants talking about it. 

The town had a stone wall around it as well.  The guards didn’t stop them and they rolled through the main street.  She’d never seen so many buildings before.  People of all kinds leered out of windows and hurried from cover to cover.  No one paid the drenched wretch with the black hair pasted to her face any attention. 

And as quickly as it had came they were leaving the village.  They rode for an hour through rainy woods until they came to a fork in the road.  One road was smaller and that was the one they took. 

She didn’t like it back at Baron Therunida’s manor, but it was what she knew.  She didn’t like the people but she knew them.  Now she was heading towards a place and people she didn’t know.  It could be worse than what she knew or she could find happiness there. 

Greza wanted to be happy.  In the rare and too brief moments she had been alone with mother she had found happiness.  But that was gone and she’d never see mother again. 

When mother died some of the Orks had said prayers in the Ork language that she didn’t understand. One of the Saytr slaves said something about gods and heaven, but she didn’t understand any of it. 

The wagon stopped at a wooden gate house where two guards in armor and burgundy ponchos came out to check the wagon.  The man was expected and they let him through.  She noticed that they only gave her brief glances.  She was completely uninteresting to them.  She was just another slave after all. 

They stopped in front of the manor and the large man got down and walked to the rear. 

“Follow me,” he said and turned around without waiting for his response. 

She jumped down and her bare feet splashed in the mud. 

She followed the man to the rear of the giant house where he knocked on a thick wooden door.  Like Baron Therunida’s house, this one was also full of light and smells of cooking food. 

A round human woman in a brown dress with a white apron answered the door. 

“I got the new slave,” the man said.

“Well, bring her in.  Let’s take a look at her.”

She followed the man inside and into the warmth.  There was food of all kinds hanging from the walls and ceiling.  Several pots sat over the oven and two more women were busy chopping vegetables and meat.

“She’s a scrawny thing, like a soaked cat,” the woman said. 

“I wouldn’t want to be her right now,” the man said and then chuckled.

The woman didn’t laugh but shook her head instead. 

“Poor dear.”  She turned to the man.  “Go tell the master than the new girl is here.”

Greza tried to keep her eyes down and not show fear.  The other Orks would attack her if she showed weakness.  They’d taunt her, hit her or steal her food. 

But she was afraid.  Whatever she was here for it wasn’t going to be good. 

A few minutes later a young Dark Elf man walked into the kitchen.  He was obviously a noble because his clothes were rich and warm.  Like all Dark Elves he had grayish skin and red eyes.  His hair was white but Therunida’s family mostly had dark gray hair with lighter skin.

“My father bought this?  There’s no accounting for taste I suppose.  Follow me, girl.” 

No one had asked her name.  They didn’t care.  These new people were just like the old people. 

She followed the young Dark Elf through a hall and into a large room with a curved staircase that led to the second floor.  The room had carpets, which she was careful not to walk on, paintings and tapestries.  A fire place in the room gave off warmth and she wanted to rush over and stand closer but she felt that that would earn her a beating. 

A matchlock was mounted above the fireplace.  Unlike the ones the guards carried this one had gold and silver designs all over the stock and down the barrel.  Mother had told her to be careful of those.  They could kill a man at a hundred paces.

“Where is father when you need him?”  The young man asked. 

She knew he wasn’t asking her so she kept her mouth closed.  Keeping her mouth closed was almost always the best thing to do.  No one ever wanted to hear what she had to say. 

Then an old Dark Elf with long white hair and a cane with a red jewel on the top walked down the stairs. 

“Uncle, have you seen father?  I have his new gladiatrix here and I have better things to do.”

The old man was about to respond but then his eyes fell on Greza.  She only looked at him from the corner of her eyes but she saw that he was staring at her.  He almost looked confused but there was something else in there that she didn’t quite understand. 

Why was he staring at her.

“Ulano, go ahead and do what you need to.  I’ll watch after the girl,” the old man said.     

“If you insist.”

And the young man ran off, apparently eager to be away. 

The old man walked down the stairs and came to stand in front of her. 

“What’s your name, girl?” 

“Greza.” 

“Greza?  A powerful Ork name.  Tell me, do you know why you’re here?”

“I was sold.”

“Yes, but do you know what you’ll be doing here?”

“No.”

He nodded his head.

“Follow me, Greza.”

She followed him as he struggled up the stairs.  He hung on to the banister and pushed along with his cane. 

He took her through the manor to a door.  He opened it and waved her inside.  She obeyed.  Once they were both inside he closed the door and walked over to sit in a cushioned chair. 

His room was large but lacked space due to the hundreds of books lying in tall stacks.  Books, scrolls, maps and papers were everywhere.  Strange items were placed on top of stacks, on shelves and on his one cluttered desk.  She didn’t know so many books existed.

Then he pointed to a chair across from him.  It had red cushions and was carved with clever designs. 

He must have seen her hesitation.

“Please sit.  You won’t get in trouble with me.”

She sat down, aware that her dress was still wet and probably had mud on it.  The water from her hair was dripping on the floor.  She moved some strands from her face and kept her eyes on the floor. 

“Greza, you have a long life ahead of you.  I know what you think of my kind.  We masters are cruel and pitiless.  But let me tell you that we are not all like that.  I am not like that.  But my brother and his family are.  You will not be treated with kindness from them.  In fact, you have a very cruel time ahead of you.” 

She struggled to stay calm.  The man was confirming her fears.  She had gone from a cold, uncaring home to a cruel one. 

The old man went on. 

“You were bought to be a gladiator.  Do you know what that is?”

She knew exactly what that was.  Gladiators fought at parties and festivals for the amusement of the nobles.  During dinners they’d have musicians, story tellers and gladiators.  Nobles would bring their gladiators to other nobles houses and bet them against each other.  It was a game and one she had seen a few times which was more than enough. 

It meant she was going to have to fight for her life and kill other people to amuse her masters.

She nodded to answer the man’s question. 

“I can’t protect you against that.  I’m sorry.  But I can protect you against other things.  I will claim the right of exclusivity with you.  That means no one will be able to touch you without my permission and I will not give it.  You will answer to me first and foremost.  Tell me, Greza, can you read?”

She shook her head. 

She lied.  She knew how to read somewhat.  She picked it up from eavesdropping on her former master’s children and from the servants and visitors.  But a slave wasn’t allowed to read and if they caught her they would have punished her. 

“Then I will teach you to read.”

For the first time, she looked up to see if he was serious.

“Surprising, yes?”  He asked.  “You must keep it a secret.  I will teach you to read and give you an education.  You will learn, Greza.  I will teach you the Path of Divine Light.  Ever hear of it?”

She shook her head. 

“It’s a religion, one that I’m afraid few practice anymore.  Ever hear of the Promised Victor?”

She shook her head.

“The Promised Victor was a child that was prophesized to grow up and save the world from a terrible danger.  As the prophecy foretold, we found him.  He had all the signs and we celebrated.  We put the child in a caravan that grew in size from village to village as it made its way to the Imperial capital.  But along the way they were attacked and the child was taken from us.  A week later the evil men who took the child sent his finger as proof that they had killed him.”

“Killed him?”  She asked before she could stop herself. 

The old man smiled. 

“Yes, they killed him.  The prophecy was broken.  Most lost their faith.  I did not.”

“A prophecy is like a promise, right?”  Greza asked.

“You can say that.”

“So, the gods broke their promise?”

“No, we only imagine they did.  That’s what most people failed to see.  They lost their faith without realizing that the gods always keep their promises, it just might be in unexpected ways.  It is this path that I will teach you.”

In spite of the fear of becoming a gladiator and living a violent, cruel life, she felt calm and almost peaceful.  She looked into the man’s red eyes and saw kindness. 

Somehow she knew it would be alright. 

“What’s your name?”  She asked.

“Erinad.”

She knew Erinad was her key to happiness.