The pirate ship sailed softly into the port on the bank of the Skahazadan under the light of the sunrise, the orange glinted on the ripples in the brown water. Tobor was roughly woken up and dragged above deck, his wrists strapped together with rope. The anchor was dropped to moor the galley and the crew embarked on rowing boats. Any sound made by the captives was met with beating. They were cargo, and cargo doesn't speak. Once they were beside the dock, oars were drawn in and ropes were thrown to men on the pier for them to secure the boats to the wharf. The prisoners were dragged onto shore.
Tobor finally looked on the ship that had claimed Gethrys’ life. It was a large ship, Tobor could see that even with the distance, with two masts reaching up into the morning sky, dark sails hanging from them limply due to the still breeze. Beds of oars poked out from the side of the galley, stretching like so many tiny legs. It was an ugly ship. Tobor thought.
A voice came from behind him, “The Bloody Lady, she's called. A beauty of a ship, fastest o’ her size in at least twelve seas.” The turnkey from the ship smirked at him. “Her figurehead is a beautiful woman with her throat slit, the blood poured down her front. Some say the ghost of her haunts the decks at night.” He stated. Tobor looked at him and turned away. The turnkey grabbed his shoulder and snarled, “don't ignore me, prick. I haven't forgotten what you did on the ship. I'm going to watch you die, you mark my words.” Tobor snorted, “kill me yourself then.” The turnkey narrowed his beady eyes. “I-I can't do that.” Tobor mocked disbelief, “you can do what you want, you're a god.” Anger flashed in the gaoler’s eyes, he grabbed Tobor by the throat. “Don't mock me!" He growled. "I'm still going to watch you die, boy.” Tobor struggled against the grip of the pirate, “careful, Captain Bloodtaker is watching.” He managed to choke out. The gaoler’s hand shot back to his side as he desperately searched for his captain, petrified that he had disappointed the Pirate Lord of Norvos. When the pirate captain was nowhere to be seen, the turnkey realised what Tobor had done. He rounded on him angrily, “Boy, next time you mock me, you'll feel my cold steel in your guts!” He pulled his sword slightly from his belt, just enough to make his point.
Tobor shrugged, “I think not.” He walked away from the empty threat to join the line of prisoners forming at the dock. The turnkey slunk off to keep guard near the boats. The captives were marched through the port, up a winding path that looked like a rope laid before them that had been looped down the hill side. The city of Meereen was set before them, grand and beautiful. The largest of the great pyramids rose up above the walls, it's point scraping the clouds. Tobor could vaguely see at the point of the pyramid stood a vicious harpy, which he knew was snarling and looking down over the city of slaves.
They were led through the city gates which were adorned with bronze harpy heads with gaping mouths that could have scolding oil poured through them onto would-be attackers. The gates were guarded by scores of slaves armed with shields and spears that made up the city guard. They were dressed in boiled leather armour, not made to defend against an army. Meereen was a city that defended itself against sieges. Although, Tobor knew that a band of twenty good men could get in and take out the head of the snake, the Great Masters that would be residing in the pyramids.
Inside the cluttered city, the narrow streets were bustling with trade of goods; livestock, metals, weapons, foods, drinks and of course; men, women and children. A dirty smell hung in the air. A small boy ran across the straw strewn floor, holding a stick and teasing a dog that bounded after him. A horse-drawn cart laden with ornate pottery passed in front of the procession of prisoners. The horse stopped in front to relieve itself and the pirate who was leading the group yelled at the merchant to move. In the shouting match that was taking place, Tobor saw a chance, he leant down and picked up a stone. His hands still tied together, he drew both hands back and launched the stone at the cart. It struck the horse on his hindquarters and the horse whinnied, kicking out with it’s back legs.
The hooves smashed into the pirate's temple. The man dropped to the floor like a sack of flour. The merchant rushed to the pirates side and the horse reared, spilling the pots onto the cobbled street with a series of smashes and cracks. Tobor didn't stop to see what happened next. He shot off like an arrow from the string, into the crowd gathering and down an alleyway, he heard shouts behind him but he kept running.
Dodging people, jumping over beggars in the street Tobor ran until his lungs were about to burst. His stopped and put his hands on his knees, breathing rapidly. He gave a little triumphant shout, he had done it. He was free. What to do now? He hadn't dared to think what he would do if he made it. Tobor thought hard, he should go back to the port. Find a ship that was going to Westeros and get aboard. But not today, or tomorrow. The pirates would still be there, The Bloody Lady would be there. He needed to find somewhere to stay tonight.
As if thinking those thoughts brought them to him, a pair of men walked round the corner. They were dressed in the boiled leather of the city watch and held spears. They looked suspiciously at Tobor as they passed him. Tobor tried to act inconspicuous. Well, as much as a foreign boy could with his hands tied. One guard held a hand out to the other, and turned around. “Boy, why are your hands tied?” He asked as he walked up to Tobor. As he realised the guard was speaking Low Valyrian, Tobor struggled to think of the right answer. At a loss, he pushed one of the guards into the other, while hooking a foot around his ankle. The guards sprawled into a heap as Tobor turned and darted around the corner… right into someone. Tobor knocked her hood down as he clattered into her, revealing a short ponytail of dark hair. She scowled, “are you always this clumsy? Or is this just a special day for you, git.” Her eyes pierced his. She had been talking to a taller man, heavily built and with a broken nose.
Tobor struggled to apologise, he was out of breath. “No need, I wouldn't understand whatever you're about to say. I don't speak twat.” She said brusquely, cutting him off. The guards came hurtling round the corner. “There he is!” One of them roared. At the other end of the alleyway several pirates turned the corner. Trapping Tobor in. The girl grinned and produced a long plain dagger and cut through his bindings deftly. “Good luck you clumsy bastard.” She said. Tobor glanced at the oncoming attackers, then back to the girl, but she had gone. Why had she helped me? Shaking his head, Tobor prepared himself, no time to worry about that. He thought. Unwilling to go down without a fight, Tobor took a defensive stance, with his fists ready.
The first man came at him, a pirate and Tobor delivered a swift punch to his throat, leaving him choking on the floor. The guards advanced with their spears, unwilling to kill an unarmed boy so they held the deadly ends away from Tobor. Still, the butt of the spear hurt as it slammed into Tobor's back. Cursing, Tobor span around and got close the guard, where a spear was useless. He drove his head into the guards unprotected nose, yielding a spurt of blood as the nose bone crumpled. He slammed his knee in between the legs of the guard. The man went down groaning.
Someone kicked the back of Tobor's leg and Tobor went down to one knee, snarling. Then a blow from the front dazed him. He didn't know where it came from. Roughly forced to his feet, he was marched back to the Main Street, and the pirate put in charge of leading them produced a wicked looking scourge. “Ten lashes for escaping, and seven because I'm a mean bastard,” he announced. Tobor was held in place facing away from the leader. Each strike forced a grunt of pain from Tobor's lips, whipping into his back with immense pain. His captors bound him, hands tighter than ever. His arms pinned to his sides and his legs bound loose enough to walk, but not to run. The procession continued, Tobor's back ached with pain.
The route through Meereen took them past butchers, fountains, brothels and finally ended opening up into a daunting plaza where a crowd had gathered. In the far end of the square was a raised wooden platform where a man stood calling out strange sounding words and pointing to random places in the rabble. Next to him stood a dark skinned woman, her clothes in a pile next to her and an iron collar clasped around her neck. It was a slave auction.
The auctioneer was saying numbers, “Lot thirty-four,” the words were accompanied by a crack of his whip. “Look at her, she's a rare beauty all the way from Lys. Bring her to a pleasure house or make her serve your drinks. Whatever she does she'll do it looking good enough for a fuck!” The auctioneer finished to a myriad of cries and bids. The line of prisoners was led through the crowd to the platform. “Settle down, settle down, let's start the bidding at three hundred silvers.” The count soon grew to six hundred silvers and when it began to slow, the girl sold for six hundred and fifty silvers. She was dragged off to her new master sobbing, her raggedy clothes left on the platform. During the next lots, the night's watch recruits sold for between three and four hundred silvers.
Next up was a sailor, Bradon who'd been with Tobor on The Stag's Fury, they had shared a drink of rum in the crow’s nest one evening and had shown Tobor how to tie a bowline, figure of eight and cleat hitch knots. It was he who had taught Tobor all the drinking games he'd known, all the rude jokes and the funny stories. He'd laughed and looked after Tobor as the boy had rum for the first time and vomitted over the side of the ship. He was the only sailor who hasn't treated him like some little lordling, he'd only treated him as a little brother.
A guard watching over the subsequent lots stalked up to Tobor, “what did you do then? To get all those ropes?” Tobor shrugged, as best he could. “Tried to escape I reckon. It doesn't matter, you won't sell for much with those ropes. And the Great Masters can't know you're an escape risk.” The guard unsheathed a knife, and sawed through the ropes, they fell in a heap at the ground. Like a nest of vipers. All but the ones around his wrists.
Dejectedly he watched the sailor get dragged onto the auction block. Bradon let an elbow fly into the face of one of the men dragging him, breaking his nose and earning himself a dozen lashes. The man who's nose streamed with blood drove a crude fist across the sailor’s face. Tobor gritted his teeth in anger at his friend in pain and gripped hard onto the rope around his wrists. He noticed the rope was fraying and coming slightly loose and gave a quick look around. The guard must have cut through them slightly!
Tobor was in the midst of the group of sailors and night’s watch recruits so he began rubbing his wrists together frantically to further loosen the ropes. No-one could see. He tugged and pulled but all it seemed to get him was rope burnt wrists, until finally he felt enough room to slip his hand out of the loop, despite feeling like it would break as he wrenched free. Excited at the thought of freedom, Tobor pictured a gallant escape where he cut down swathes of evil slavers in a desperate bid for to save Bradon but knew that only happened in stories. Tobor wasn't in a story. Instead, he wrapped the untied rope around his wrists and tied a loose knot, so as not to give away the fact he was free.
“Three hundred silvers, if there are no further bids then lot forty-three goes to you, Reznar.” The auctioneer pointed into the sea of people. The sailor’s back was torn and bloody where each one of the lashes had left it’s savage mark. Blood weeped openly from the crisscross trails. The Great Master who had bought the sailor was carried to the platform on a litter carried by ten slaves. There, he inspected his prize. Bradon’s face was bloody and bruised. The Master stood up from his throne and walked precariously on his palanquin towards the sailor. The sailor coughed and flecks of blood were expelled into the air, some landing on the Master.
The slaver smiled coldly, clicked his fingers and gave a whistle. While the master wiped his face with a cloth, two of the Great Master’s house guards snapped to attention and jumped up to the platform. One pulled a wooden cudgel from his belt and beat Bradon upside the face with it, smashing into his cheek. The sailor hit the ground. Kicks flew at the downed man, they seemed to be beating him to death. Tobor ground his teeth and ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair, he knew the consequences if he got in the way now. He'd be whipped, tortured and hung up for carrion crows. Do I throw it all away for honour? He thought. Am I coward if I do nothing?
“We light the way,” he muttered to himself, his house’s words. “We light the way.” Again. A guard looked round as he heard Tobor and told him to shut his mouth or lose his tongue. His father’s words echoed in his mind, “as true men of House Hightower, we are like the High Tower, Tobor, we rise above the rest of the world; but as we rise we are in view of those who need us. So we must stay pure, and we must stay true. Let your mind shine out for all those too weak to help themselves, let your eyes be the beacon and show them the way. For we light the way. Just as the High Tower rises in the sky and it's flame shines out to every ship in a stormy sea. We must rise and light the way for all men. We light the way.”
Golden Coins and Iron Chains
Part 1
The pirate ship sailed softly into the port on the bank of the Skahazadan under the light of the sun… morerise, the orange glinted on the ripples in the brown water. Tobor was roughly woken up and dragged above deck, his wrists strapped together with rope. The anchor was dropped to moor the galley and the crew embarked on rowing boats. Any sound made by the captives was met with beating. They were cargo, and cargo doesn't speak. Once they were beside the dock, oars were drawn in and ropes were thrown to men on the pier for them to secure the boats to the wharf. The prisoners were dragged onto shore.
Tobor finally looked on the ship that had claimed Gethrys’ life. It was a large ship, Tobor could see that even with the distance, with two masts reaching up into the morning sky, dark sails hanging from them limply due to the still breeze. Beds of oars poked out from the side of the galley, stretching like so … [view original content]
Golden Coins and Iron Chains
Part 1
The pirate ship sailed softly into the port on the bank of the Skahazadan under the light of the sun… morerise, the orange glinted on the ripples in the brown water. Tobor was roughly woken up and dragged above deck, his wrists strapped together with rope. The anchor was dropped to moor the galley and the crew embarked on rowing boats. Any sound made by the captives was met with beating. They were cargo, and cargo doesn't speak. Once they were beside the dock, oars were drawn in and ropes were thrown to men on the pier for them to secure the boats to the wharf. The prisoners were dragged onto shore.
Tobor finally looked on the ship that had claimed Gethrys’ life. It was a large ship, Tobor could see that even with the distance, with two masts reaching up into the morning sky, dark sails hanging from them limply due to the still breeze. Beds of oars poked out from the side of the galley, stretching like so … [view original content]
Golden Coins and Iron Chains
Part 1
The pirate ship sailed softly into the port on the bank of the Skahazadan under the light of the sun… morerise, the orange glinted on the ripples in the brown water. Tobor was roughly woken up and dragged above deck, his wrists strapped together with rope. The anchor was dropped to moor the galley and the crew embarked on rowing boats. Any sound made by the captives was met with beating. They were cargo, and cargo doesn't speak. Once they were beside the dock, oars were drawn in and ropes were thrown to men on the pier for them to secure the boats to the wharf. The prisoners were dragged onto shore.
Tobor finally looked on the ship that had claimed Gethrys’ life. It was a large ship, Tobor could see that even with the distance, with two masts reaching up into the morning sky, dark sails hanging from them limply due to the still breeze. Beds of oars poked out from the side of the galley, stretching like so … [view original content]
Golden Coins and Iron Chains
Part 1
The pirate ship sailed softly into the port on the bank of the Skahazadan under the light of the sun… morerise, the orange glinted on the ripples in the brown water. Tobor was roughly woken up and dragged above deck, his wrists strapped together with rope. The anchor was dropped to moor the galley and the crew embarked on rowing boats. Any sound made by the captives was met with beating. They were cargo, and cargo doesn't speak. Once they were beside the dock, oars were drawn in and ropes were thrown to men on the pier for them to secure the boats to the wharf. The prisoners were dragged onto shore.
Tobor finally looked on the ship that had claimed Gethrys’ life. It was a large ship, Tobor could see that even with the distance, with two masts reaching up into the morning sky, dark sails hanging from them limply due to the still breeze. Beds of oars poked out from the side of the galley, stretching like so … [view original content]
Golden Coins and Iron Chains
Part 1
The pirate ship sailed softly into the port on the bank of the Skahazadan under the light of the sun… morerise, the orange glinted on the ripples in the brown water. Tobor was roughly woken up and dragged above deck, his wrists strapped together with rope. The anchor was dropped to moor the galley and the crew embarked on rowing boats. Any sound made by the captives was met with beating. They were cargo, and cargo doesn't speak. Once they were beside the dock, oars were drawn in and ropes were thrown to men on the pier for them to secure the boats to the wharf. The prisoners were dragged onto shore.
Tobor finally looked on the ship that had claimed Gethrys’ life. It was a large ship, Tobor could see that even with the distance, with two masts reaching up into the morning sky, dark sails hanging from them limply due to the still breeze. Beds of oars poked out from the side of the galley, stretching like so … [view original content]
Now, ain't that a nice surprise I did not expect that little cameo, but safe to say, I loved it greatly! Makes me super excited for what's to come next. And well, I gotta admit, the "I don't speak twat" line made me chuckle a bit
[Help Bradon]
I feel like this is what Tobor should do. He wants to be honourable and helping a friend in need is the way to go. Yes, this is going to be painful, but I don't think they are going to outright kill him. Instead, there might even be a chance for him there. Some of the potential buyers might be impressed by such loyalty and courage. Maybe not the kind of masters one wants to attract, but certainly, loyalty and courage can be useful for some types of slave.
Golden Coins and Iron Chains
Part 1
The pirate ship sailed softly into the port on the bank of the Skahazadan under the light of the sun… morerise, the orange glinted on the ripples in the brown water. Tobor was roughly woken up and dragged above deck, his wrists strapped together with rope. The anchor was dropped to moor the galley and the crew embarked on rowing boats. Any sound made by the captives was met with beating. They were cargo, and cargo doesn't speak. Once they were beside the dock, oars were drawn in and ropes were thrown to men on the pier for them to secure the boats to the wharf. The prisoners were dragged onto shore.
Tobor finally looked on the ship that had claimed Gethrys’ life. It was a large ship, Tobor could see that even with the distance, with two masts reaching up into the morning sky, dark sails hanging from them limply due to the still breeze. Beds of oars poked out from the side of the galley, stretching like so … [view original content]
I thought you'd like it! She's actually the first submitted character showing up in the story.
Helping Bradon is what Tobor thinks is right, regardless of which way this vote goes he will know that. So he knows that helping Bradon us the honourable thing to do.
Now, ain't that a nice surprise I did not expect that little cameo, but safe to say, I loved it greatly! Makes me super excited for what's … moreto come next. And well, I gotta admit, the "I don't speak twat" line made me chuckle a bit
[Help Bradon]
I feel like this is what Tobor should do. He wants to be honourable and helping a friend in need is the way to go. Yes, this is going to be painful, but I don't think they are going to outright kill him. Instead, there might even be a chance for him there. Some of the potential buyers might be impressed by such loyalty and courage. Maybe not the kind of masters one wants to attract, but certainly, loyalty and courage can be useful for some types of slave.
Definitely a tough choice, save someone else at risk of your life or save yourself at the risk of someone else's life. I wasn't sure which way this would go but I'm glad. Next part will be posted tomorrow, and we find out what the consequences are. Looking forward to it.
Tobor looked the guard in the eye, “we light the way,” he whispered in Low Valyrian. The guard looked at him quizzically, “I said shut your fucking mouth,” he growled and thrust the shaft of his spear towards Tobor's face, aiming to strike him with the wooden end. Tobor ducked under the spear and grabbed hold. The guard, not expecting a young boy to put up a fight was taken off guard. Tobor turned, facing away from the guard and pulled viciously on the spear as he knelt down. The guard was dragged over Tobor and tripped, falling from the raised platform and landed in a heap on the ground. Tobor drove the end of the wooden shaft into the guard’s temple, rendering him unconscious. Gasps and shouts filled the plaza.
Tobor sprinted towards Bradon, dodging the outstretched arms of other guards on the platform, he barrelled into the house guard of the Great Master holding the cudgel, knocking him to the floor and spilling the cudgel within arms reach. Knelt on the chest of the guard, Tobor grabbed the thick stick and brought it down on the head of the guard, over and over. A dull squelching crunch sounded with each strike. Blood covered the ruined mess of the house guard’s face, his cheek crumpled. Then a burst of pain came from his side, Tobor shouted out in agony and was thrown sideways by the boot that had connected with him, he spread his hands to soften the impact but splinters attacked his fingers and palms.
Now boots came flying from all directions around him, Tobor covered his head with his arms and curled up to protect himself. Pain surrounded him, suffocating him. It was a blanket of water. Tobor felt calm, almost as if he wasn't Tobor anymore, he was just in the body of this boy. The pain was dulled now, Tobor could smell the leather of the boots kicking him and the metallic scent of blood.
Then it was over. Tobor rolled onto his back, looking up at the blue morning sky. Why was it over? Why is everything so foggy? He thought. And why is it so blurry? He remembered now; they were going to kill me for striking one of them. That reminded him, he looked over at the house guard he had beaten with the cudgel, he was being dragged away by other guards from the household of the Great Master. Perhaps dead. Tobor groaned, they're waiting to kill me and they'll make it slow. He coughed and rolled over, then vomited on the platform, a mixture of bile and blood. The act sent a sharp stab of pain to his chest. Someone was saying something, Tobor struggled to concentrate. “Reznar zo Merreq, this wretch dared to harm your personal guard, I leave it to your discretion to decide how to kill him.” The words sounded fuzzy and far off. Tobor rubbed his eyes, his head felt light and stuffy. He pushed himself up to his knees, his head span.
He looked at the man who held his fate in his hands. The Great Master Reznar zo Merreq had short black hair and a thin face, olive skinned and with dark brown eyes that looked deep enough to swim in. He was dressed in a tokar, a robe that was wrapped over his left shoulder, around his waist, it fell down to his sandals. It was impractical, a show of power more than anything. The maroon silk was fringed with golden Myrish lace.
Tobor tried to speak but he choked on the blood in his mouth, spluttered and coughed out the mouthful. Reznar laughed coldly, “he has fight I'll give him that, not afraid to bleed.” He stroked his chin in deep thought. “Three thousand.” The auctioneer stuttered, “but, honourable Reznar, this cretin attacked one of your own guards, he must be put to death!” Reznar glared at the man, fury gleamed in his dark eyes, then he calmed himself. “Three thousand silvers,” he repeated softly.
The auctioneer went to protest but Reznar cut him off, “three thousand silvers, it has been left to my discretion for how to kill the wretch, should you ever presume to question me again your heart will feed crows and your flesh will feed your family.” Terrified, the auctioneer bowed and retreated. Reznar instructed his remaining house guard to take Tobor and Bradon to the Pyramid of Merreq, he was roughly picked up and thrown onto a cart that was hand-pulled by three slaves. Tobor blinked at the blue sky and shut his eyes.
Through the fog, Tobor could see his mother, she was right there. Her blonde hair whispered in the breeze. Standing before him, beautiful but as pale as she'd looked on the day of her funeral. She looked sad. The sudden flux that had taken her had left her weak and thin, until her life was scattered to the wind like ash. Tobor reached out to her but his hand passed through her as if she was made of mist. The motion caused her shape to distort and ripple. Tobor shouted at the receding images. The mist faded away.
An acute pain brought Tobor from his slumber, he opened his bleary eyes a dark stone ceiling stared back at him. Tobor looked around the small room, three walls were the same black stone and for the third wall iron bars reached up from the floor. Tobor realised someone else was there, she was wiping at his chest with a warm damp cloth. Someone had taken his clothes and replaced them with a pair of breaches. He started and sat up quickly. A mistake. His head swam and blurred lights danced behind his eyes; he lay back down. “Don't move too much.” Her soft voice said. Tobor tried to speak, his words felt hard and laboured, “I won't.” He murmured.
Instead he looked at the girl, she looked to be fourteen perhaps. Large brown eyes stared intently at her work as she chewed on her bottom lip. Curly, dark-mahogany coloured hair fell down her back and over her shoulders. She had a powdering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and over her olive skinned, boyish face. She had a fair sort of common face.
The pressure from the cloth stung his chest. He let out a gasp of air, which only aggravated the pain. “You need to stop moving; you've hurt your ribs. They aren't broken, only bruised, but if you stop moving they'll stop hurting while I work. Take shallow breaths and don't cough.” The girl instructed in Low Valyrian. Tobor complied. She washed the dried blood from his torso, and applied a herbal paste to the cuts and bruises. She then turned to Tobor's head, she wiped a cloth on his forehead and over his eye, the cloth came away bright red. Tobor flinched when she touched his left eyebrow. There must be a cut there, he thought. The girl wiped away the rest of the blood from his face and applied the paste again. Then she told him to sit up. Tobor did so slowly and with great difficulty.
Once his head had stopped spinning, Tobor felt immediately better and less prone to vomiting. The girl spoke, “they'll take around the turn of the moon to heal. In the meantime you need to breath normally; take deep breaths when you can, don't stay still and keep moving.”
Tobor nodded and stood up: his side ached. He walked over to the small window above head height that was only a few inches in height and an arm’s span width. Looking out he could see people's ankles as they hurried past; the room was below the streets surface. “What's to be done with me?” He asked in her tongue. “Done? You killed one of Reznar zo Merreq’s personal house guards. You'll die soon no doubt.” She replied. Tobor turned away from the window. “I don't understand, why was I bought if I was to be put to death?” Tobor asked confusedly. The girl shrugged uncaringly, “I assumed you'd been bought and then attacked the guard afterwards in a desperate attempt to get away.” She giggled, “futile I'm sure.”
Tobor grew irritated, this girl knew nothing. “They beat my friend, I was trying to help him.” He shot back. The girl’s eyes looked sad, “best thing you could have done was leave him.”
“I couldn't ever leave a friend in peril!” He retorted. The girl scoffed, “you're an honourable one then? A pity, the honourable ones always die first. You'll have to learn to leave your friends in peril and look away. You'll only make it worse for them and you. I'm sure your friend suffered a beating tenfold worse than if you'd left him.” Tobor was wordless. He didn't know what to say, could it be true? It made sense. Too much sense.
“I've heard talk you'll be put in the fighting pits: once you recover. Maybe a wolf will be sent in with you; or a lion, tiger, bear or whatever creature will kill you in the most amusing way. Perhaps you'll fight men. Whichever it may be, you'll be dead soon. My apologies to put it so bluntly, but you're brave enough to fight the masters, or foolish enough. You should know the truth. I've seen it enough times. Pray to your gods, ask them why they sent you here and why they let this be your fate, blame them, but accept it. It's easier that way.” Tears sprang unbidden to his eyes.
He turned away so the girl wouldn't see. He'd never see the Wall, never see his father again, or his brothers. He'd never stare in awe at the High Tower. Then he cursed himself for being childish. He was fifteen, near enough a man grown. Tobor resolved in that moment, to see the Wall. He would survive whatever man or beast was put in the pit. Tobor turned around with steely determination in his eye. “The man who blames his fate on gods is the most craven of all. A man makes his own fate. I carried myself here, and I will carry myself out of here. Let them come.” The girl smiled at the ground and looked back at Tobor with those dark eyes. “How profound.” She said. Tobor wasn't amused. “Why are you so sure I'm not going to live?” Tobor asked. The girl looked sad, “like I said, the honourable ones die first. Valar Morghulis.”
Tobor nodded, “Valar Morghulis. All men must die.” He agreed. Tobor paused for a moment. “Aye, but first I intend to live.” The girl almost looked impressed, just for a second. “Come on little hero, thank me and let me on my way, I have other duties.” She said lightly.
“My name is Tobor. You have my thanks...” Tobor waited for a name in response. The girl turned around, her brown hair dancing through the air. “And you have my thanks, Tobor,” she said. “For what?” He replied, perplexed. “Amusement, distraction, someone to talk to.” She replied as she walked out the door.
“As you're convinced I'm a dead man, it would be fitting for you to grant me a request.” Tobor called out. The girl laughed and faced him, “Is tending to your wounds not enough?” She held a hand to her chest in mock betrayal, “or are you asking a fair maiden for a kiss before you die?” Tobor shook his head, “tell no-one I speak your tongue. If it is truly as you say then it will mean nothing; I'll die and nothing will come of it. But if I live, then I keep my secret. Think of it like a wager. For my life.” The girl smiled, “you're bold. I'm inclined to accept your wager. I'll keep your secret if you'll keep mine.” Tobor held out his hand, the girl shook it. Her hands were warm. “Don't tell my father I let you keep your boots.” She winked. Tobor was confused, “your father? I don't under…” The realisation dawned on him.
“My name is Tazhyn zo Merreq, Reznar is my father.” And with that Tazhyn zo Merreq span on her heel and walked through the cell door, grinning cheekily as she locked it behind her. Tobor could barely keep his mouth shut.
Tobor walked over to one of the beds in the corner of the room and sat on it. A white linen shirt was set beside him, to accompany his new black breeches. In the corner were his black boots, courtesy of Reznar’s daughter. She's his daughter. Tobor was instantly suspicious, what's her plan? Is she being honest? Could she actually be helping me out of the goodness of her heart? Is Reznar behind this? So many unanswerable questions had been thrown up by this revelation. Tobor supposed there was naught he could do about it. He should be wary. Although…
Tobor remembered what Tazhyn had said about the beasts that could be thrown into the pit with him. Tobor had never even seen a tiger, lion or a bear. Perhaps as his daughter, Tazhyn could persuade Reznar to only pit him against men. Tobor understood how men could fight, to the extent a young boy could. However, if this was Reznar’s doing, trusting her could mean his death.
[be cautious, don't trust Tazhyn][trust Tazhyn to help with her father]
Great part! Normally I'm totally trustfull but I'm not sure here so lets go the safe route an
[be cautious, don't trust Tazhyn] we can trust her if she earns it.
Golden Coins and Iron Chains
Part 2
Tobor looked the guard in the eye, “we light the way,” he whispered in Low Valyrian. The guard look… moreed at him quizzically, “I said shut your fucking mouth,” he growled and thrust the shaft of his spear towards Tobor's face, aiming to strike him with the wooden end. Tobor ducked under the spear and grabbed hold. The guard, not expecting a young boy to put up a fight was taken off guard. Tobor turned, facing away from the guard and pulled viciously on the spear as he knelt down. The guard was dragged over Tobor and tripped, falling from the raised platform and landed in a heap on the ground. Tobor drove the end of the wooden shaft into the guard’s temple, rendering him unconscious. Gasps and shouts filled the plaza.
Tobor sprinted towards Bradon, dodging the outstretched arms of other guards on the platform, he barrelled into the house guard of the Great Master holding the cudgel, knocking him to the f… [view original content]
Great part! Normally I'm totally trustfull but I'm not sure here so lets go the safe route an
[be cautious, don't trust Tazhyn] we can trust her if she earns it.
[trust Tazhyn] Well I like her. It may be smarter to be cautious but screw smart! She could turn out to be a snake but for now I think she at least deserves the benefit of the doubt. Don't judge a daughter for the actions of her father.
As I said I like her. She's cool, playful and likeable, despite her cynical attitude.
Golden Coins and Iron Chains
Part 2
Tobor looked the guard in the eye, “we light the way,” he whispered in Low Valyrian. The guard look… moreed at him quizzically, “I said shut your fucking mouth,” he growled and thrust the shaft of his spear towards Tobor's face, aiming to strike him with the wooden end. Tobor ducked under the spear and grabbed hold. The guard, not expecting a young boy to put up a fight was taken off guard. Tobor turned, facing away from the guard and pulled viciously on the spear as he knelt down. The guard was dragged over Tobor and tripped, falling from the raised platform and landed in a heap on the ground. Tobor drove the end of the wooden shaft into the guard’s temple, rendering him unconscious. Gasps and shouts filled the plaza.
Tobor sprinted towards Bradon, dodging the outstretched arms of other guards on the platform, he barrelled into the house guard of the Great Master holding the cudgel, knocking him to the f… [view original content]
[trust Tazhyn to help with her father]
I dont know If i can trust her.But she is likable.Ah was in a bit of trouble with this choice and I came in final about trusting her
Golden Coins and Iron Chains
Part 2
Tobor looked the guard in the eye, “we light the way,” he whispered in Low Valyrian. The guard look… moreed at him quizzically, “I said shut your fucking mouth,” he growled and thrust the shaft of his spear towards Tobor's face, aiming to strike him with the wooden end. Tobor ducked under the spear and grabbed hold. The guard, not expecting a young boy to put up a fight was taken off guard. Tobor turned, facing away from the guard and pulled viciously on the spear as he knelt down. The guard was dragged over Tobor and tripped, falling from the raised platform and landed in a heap on the ground. Tobor drove the end of the wooden shaft into the guard’s temple, rendering him unconscious. Gasps and shouts filled the plaza.
Tobor sprinted towards Bradon, dodging the outstretched arms of other guards on the platform, he barrelled into the house guard of the Great Master holding the cudgel, knocking him to the f… [view original content]
Golden Coins and Iron Chains
Part 2
Tobor looked the guard in the eye, “we light the way,” he whispered in Low Valyrian. The guard look… moreed at him quizzically, “I said shut your fucking mouth,” he growled and thrust the shaft of his spear towards Tobor's face, aiming to strike him with the wooden end. Tobor ducked under the spear and grabbed hold. The guard, not expecting a young boy to put up a fight was taken off guard. Tobor turned, facing away from the guard and pulled viciously on the spear as he knelt down. The guard was dragged over Tobor and tripped, falling from the raised platform and landed in a heap on the ground. Tobor drove the end of the wooden shaft into the guard’s temple, rendering him unconscious. Gasps and shouts filled the plaza.
Tobor sprinted towards Bradon, dodging the outstretched arms of other guards on the platform, he barrelled into the house guard of the Great Master holding the cudgel, knocking him to the f… [view original content]
When you're in the game of thrones universe "screw smart" isn't usually the phrase you want to hear but I agree, giving someone a chance is a good idea, but it's got massive consequences if you mis judge them.
[trust Tazhyn] Well I like her. It may be smarter to be cautious but screw smart! She could turn out to be a snake but for now I think she a… moret least deserves the benefit of the doubt. Don't judge a daughter for the actions of her father.
As I said I like her. She's cool, playful and likeable, despite her cynical attitude.
I see your point but my mind set is usually what I consider to be good and right over what may be considered wise. I also find really good guys appealing in GOT because of how harsh it is.
When you're in the game of thrones universe "screw smart" isn't usually the phrase you want to hear but I agree, giving someone a chance is a good idea, but it's got massive consequences if you mis judge them.
I see your point but my mind set is usually what I consider to be good and right over what may be considered wise. I also find really good guys appealing in GOT because of how harsh it is.
Ah fair point, wouldn't the moral thing have been marry the Frey girl for Robb? Choosing the moral thing over smart or more beneficial brings to mind the quote from batman: "You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain."
Here's the thing, I do not trust Tazhyn. However, I don't think we can afford not to trust her. There's really nothing to lose here, if she is willing to help Tobor out he has gained an ally. If she won't help him, if we can't trust her, then nothing about his situation will change. It's either potentially gaining some help, or still not having anyone to make things easier for him. Unless of course she's a bit two-faced, screwing him over on purpose if he asks her to persuade her father, but I doubt she'd do this.
Golden Coins and Iron Chains
Part 2
Tobor looked the guard in the eye, “we light the way,” he whispered in Low Valyrian. The guard look… moreed at him quizzically, “I said shut your fucking mouth,” he growled and thrust the shaft of his spear towards Tobor's face, aiming to strike him with the wooden end. Tobor ducked under the spear and grabbed hold. The guard, not expecting a young boy to put up a fight was taken off guard. Tobor turned, facing away from the guard and pulled viciously on the spear as he knelt down. The guard was dragged over Tobor and tripped, falling from the raised platform and landed in a heap on the ground. Tobor drove the end of the wooden shaft into the guard’s temple, rendering him unconscious. Gasps and shouts filled the plaza.
Tobor sprinted towards Bradon, dodging the outstretched arms of other guards on the platform, he barrelled into the house guard of the Great Master holding the cudgel, knocking him to the f… [view original content]
Golden Coins and Iron Chains
Part 2
Tobor looked the guard in the eye, “we light the way,” he whispered in Low Valyrian. The guard look… moreed at him quizzically, “I said shut your fucking mouth,” he growled and thrust the shaft of his spear towards Tobor's face, aiming to strike him with the wooden end. Tobor ducked under the spear and grabbed hold. The guard, not expecting a young boy to put up a fight was taken off guard. Tobor turned, facing away from the guard and pulled viciously on the spear as he knelt down. The guard was dragged over Tobor and tripped, falling from the raised platform and landed in a heap on the ground. Tobor drove the end of the wooden shaft into the guard’s temple, rendering him unconscious. Gasps and shouts filled the plaza.
Tobor sprinted towards Bradon, dodging the outstretched arms of other guards on the platform, he barrelled into the house guard of the Great Master holding the cudgel, knocking him to the f… [view original content]
Robb's decision to not marry the Frey girl was more of an impulsive decision. That was Robb acting on his emotions, not choosing between what he felt to be right and wrong.
Ah fair point, wouldn't the moral thing have been marry the Frey girl for Robb? Choosing the moral thing over smart or more beneficial bring… mores to mind the quote from batman: "You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain."
Very good points, however Tobor does have something to lose. All he has is his life, Tazhyn could persuade her father to put Tobor against a man or against a grizzly bear. She has power over him and that scares Tobor who doesn't know if he can trust her
[trust Tazhyn to help with her father]
Here's the thing, I do not trust Tazhyn. However, I don't think we can afford not to trust her. Th… moreere's really nothing to lose here, if she is willing to help Tobor out he has gained an ally. If she won't help him, if we can't trust her, then nothing about his situation will change. It's either potentially gaining some help, or still not having anyone to make things easier for him. Unless of course she's a bit two-faced, screwing him over on purpose if he asks her to persuade her father, but I doubt she'd do this.
Robb's decision to not marry the Frey girl was more of an impulsive decision. That was Robb acting on his emotions, not choosing between what he felt to be right and wrong.
There's a lot riding on this choice, it could mean Tobor's life or death. Or at least, it could land him in a lot of sticky situations. Tazhyn has all the power at the moment.
The next part will come out in a couple of days. I'm away at the moment for a week and a half so I have limited writing time. I'll do my best to continue writing parts. Looking forward to Tobor's story continuing! In the next part Tobor fully realises the consequences of helping Bradon.
Tobor thought hard, if he trusted Tazhyn then she would either persuade Reznar to pit him against men, or against animals. If he didn't trust her then Reznar would likely pit him against animals anyway. However, if Tazhyn was doing it on Reznar’s orders, she could also make Tobor's life a lot worse if she knew that Tobor would trust her. Tazhyn had the power, and Tobor didn't like it. But then Tobor thought about facing a lion or a tiger in the pit. He would be meat for them, unable to win. Tobor knew what he needed to do. He would put his fate in the daughter of the slaver that ordered Bradon's beating, who bought him like livestock and who would force him to kill men and beasts for sport. Tobor didn't like the way that sounded.
With that quandary settled, Tobor decided to sleep. There wasn't much else to do in the small cell. He glanced at the three other beds and apprehensively wondered who he'd be sharing with. Tobor lay down on the straw mattress and closed his eyes. There were no blankets or pillows. Just a thin straw mattress on a wooden frame. Sleep didn't come to Tobor. All he could think of was the cudgel smashing into the guards face time and time again. The crunch of his cheeks and the spray of his blood, flecks hitting Tobor's face. The worst part was how it felt. Tobor had felt powerful in that moment. He'd enjoyed it. The crash of wood on bone. Tobor was scared about how he felt. He knew that guard was probably a father, or a son, or a brother. He didn't feel quite right about that, but he knew he should care more.
The scrape of a key in the door pulled his mind back into the room, he sat up too quickly and clutched his side in pain. Behind the bars were two house guards who were holding a third man between them with a linen sling around his left arm. The man’s head hung loosely onto his chest and his legs trailed behind from how they'd dragged him. As the men pulled him through the cell door and laid him roughly on the nearest bed to Tobor, he groaned and his head lolled back. Tobor recognised him. Through the red and purple angry swelling covering his face like a mask, it was Bradon. Dry blood covered his chest, caking it. His swollen cheek was split open, oozing blood.
Tobor went to the side of his friend. “Bradon, are you alright?” He asked, worried. Bradon nodded. “Just gimme a moment,” he groaned. Tobor waited anxiously for Bradon to sit up, when the sailor finally did, Tobor went to speak. “Don't worry little brother, I don't blame you.” Bradon cut him off. Tobor breathed a sigh of relief and apologised. Bradon waved it away. “Next time, just let it happen. I can take a beating, but it doesn't mean I want to.” Tobor looked at the broken face of his friend and felt guilt wash over him. Tazhyn was right, he shouldn't have done anything. But how could he have done nothing? The honourable thing to do was help. Help those who cannot help themselves. That was right, wasn't it?
Tobor nodded and apologised again. Bradon told him not to worry. “So, little brother, how are you finding slavery?” He quipped. Tobor laughed and then grew serious. “They're making me fight in the pit, Bradon. I'm going to fight men, beasts or whatever shit they throw in there.” Bradon put a hand on his shoulder, “don't worry little brother, you're a tough bastard. You're young and fast. You'll cut the Meereenese pricks to pieces.” Tobor appreciated Bradon’s support and while he found it hard to believe, he reminded himself that he was going to see the Wall when this was over. “What are you going to do?” Tobor asked. Bradon replied that due to his broken arm he would serve the zo Merreq family food during the day, and when a fight was going on in the pits he would prepare the weapons for the fighters. “I suppose I should be happy about this damn thing,” he mused, looking at his arm. “Otherwise I'd be in the pit with you.” Bradon’s attempt to make light of the dark alternative did nothing to help Tobor's worry.
Hours of talking passed them by until they were interrupted by a guard tapped on the bars with his cudgel. With stilted language, he instructed them to follow him for mealtime. He spoke the common tongue relatively well. On the way he explained that slaves get one meal a day, just after the sun is highest. “You'll wait in the line, and then get your meal. Leave the bowl in the room. It is cleans after by other slaves.” The guard went on about the different rules; insubordination is ten lashes, lying is twenty, raising a hand to the guards is fifty and raising a hand to the Great Master or his family is two hundred. The guard sneered, “I promise, you won't live through one hundred of them if you do.”
The entire slave quarters complex was underneath the pyramid of the family of zo Merreq, it was a twisting maze of passages and cells. The walls of the passages were made of dusty, light coloured stone and the walls of cells was the same black stone in Tobor's cell. Most of the cells were empty, as the guard explained. “Everyone is at meal.” Those too weak, and those too beaten to eat were still in their cells.
When they arrived at the meal hall the guard left them to go inside. Tobor and Bradon entered and the door was locked behind them. The meal hall was a huge room, beams crossing overhead. Pillars standing, holding the ceiling up. Rows and rows of tables and benches were deliberately lined up so as to fit as many slaves in at once, some chairs stood at the heads of tables, heavy oak. Even with the large room and the masses of benches it was crammed. There must have been at least five hundred slaves in the room, Tobor guessed. The room was filled with quiet conversations. At the far end were several enormous pots, being served out by kitchen slaves in wooden bowls.
Tobor and Bradon lined up to receive their one meal for the day. The bowl handed to them was filled with a watery brown, greasy looking stew. Tobor knew better than to question it. He beckoned the sailor over once they'd both been given their stew. They sat at the two nearest available seats. “What kind of shit is this?” Bradon whispered, “I got better than this when we boiled the rats to eat at sea after running out of provisions!” Tobor chuckled and poked at a lump in the stew with his finger. They hadn't been given spoons. Tobor winced as he bit into the lump, it was tough but after having not eaten for the day it didn't bother him. Tobor almost liked it. “It could be rat, you know.” He suggested. The sailor shook his head. “This place does have a fighting pit…” He let Tobor figure out the rest.
Tobor stared at Bradon, eyes wide. “Fuck off. You can't think…” he stopped, unwilling to finish the sentence. Bradon gave a hearty laugh. “No, of course not little brother. This meat isn't man have no doubt.” Tobor let out a sigh, the sailor grinned and winked. “Men are much nicer than this.” Bradon gave another chuckle. Tobor mocked his laugh and threw one of the lumps at him, it struck his face and tumbled down into his lap. A shout rang out across the hall. A stream of unintelligible Low Valyrian poured out of an angry guards mouth. The hall went silent. Tobor looked over, a tall, bald man was striding towards them, fury written on his face. Brown eyes and skin stretched taut over his sharp cheekbones. A square jawline gave way to a thick neck. He wore only breeches and sandals, presenting a body rippled with muscle. A vicious sword hung at his side, which would have been more suited in a butchers than a battle. The guard marched over and grabbed Tobor's head, slamming it down onto the table surface. He scraped Tobor's face along the wood and pushed down hard.
“You don't like our food boy?” He snarled in Low Valyrian, holding out the bowl. Tobor played dumb, “I don't know what you're saying!” He spoke in the common tongue. The guard switched to Tobor's tongue and repeated what he'd said. Tobor nodded as best he could with his head pressed to the table. The guard smashed the bowl of stew onto Tobor's hand, pain shot up his arm as grease and meat flew in all directions. “Answer me when I ask you a question!” He roared, showering spittle.
Tobor struggled against the guards immense strength. The guard pressed harder, grinding the boy's head into the table. In the end he swallowed his pride. “My apologies, I do like the food. It was a mistake to throw it.” The guard let him up, Tobor put a hand to his flaming cheek. When he took his hand away blood was dotted on it. “Pass me your bowl, worm.” He gestured to the wooden bowl that had been knocked on the floor. Tobor chewed his tongue to stop himself answering back and leant down to pick it up, the guard put his foot on the side of Tobor's stomach and kicked him over. Tobor landed heavily on his bruised ribs and let out an inaudible gasp of pain. “Pass me your bowl worm.” The guard repeated. Biting back the pain and a retort Tobor stood up with bowl in hand, he offered it to the guard. As a response, the guard spat a mouthful into the bowl. “Eat your food, worm.” Tobor looked at him, aghast. He can't expect me to eat that, Tobor thought. The entire hall was watching.
“Did you lie to me when you said you liked the food?” The guard questioned. Tobor shook his head and the guard moved with lightening pace as he slapped Tobor across the face. “I told you to answer me. I swear by the Graces. If you disrespect me one more time I'll give you so many lashes you'll beg me to kill you.” Tobor looked the guard in his brown, beady eyes. “No I didn't lie.” He said softly. The guard smiled cruelly, “then eat the food, if you are no liar.” Tobor took a deep breath. The guard cocked his head like a dog, “eat the food.” He echoed in a deep menacing voice. “Eat the food or so help me, I will fuck your mother into the ground, cut off your father’s cock and feed it to her!” He bellowed.
Tobor stared at the head guard unblinkingly. “My mother is already in the ground.” He stated without emotion. “So unless you like fucking corpses, you've made a mistake.” The guard looked shocked, surprised at the insolence. He swelled with red rage. Tobor prepared himself, regretting nothing.
“Herazal, stand down.” Came a voice. Heads turned in confusion. Reznar zo Merreq walked into the hall; one hand holding his tokar to his chest, the other swinging by his side. The guard, clearly named Herazal, grunted and stepped back. “This.. this boy disrespected me.” He spat the word boy out like rotten food. Reznar nodded. “I heard him.” Herazal looked confused. Reznar continued in the common tongue for Tobor's benefit, “I know he disrespected you my dear Herazal but I simply cannot have you beating my pit fighter while he is healing, that would cost me silver. Wouldn't you say so?” Herazal’s words agreed with the Master but his eyes didn't. “As a result of him so, ahem, villainously degrading you, there must be punishment.” Tobor narrowed his eyes, worried for what the master would say next.
Reznar pointed at the sailor, “cut off four of his fingers, one for each insult the boy gave you.” The master turned and walked away. He hesitated and looked back. “Give the man a gold coin, for his trouble.” Reznar strolled out of the room. Tobor stood shocked. The room grew noisy again. Tobor heard none of it. Bradon looked at Tobor with betrayal in his eyes that cut Tobor more than any knife could, it hurt Tobor more than any fist could.
As two guards held the sailors unbroken arm onto the table, his eyes watched Tobor's. As they forced him to unclench his fist, his eyes watched Tobor's. As the butcher sword came down onto his outstretched fingers, his eyes watched Tobor's. Steel flashed silver. Then red.
Well this brings chapter 2 to a close. Hot Sand and Warm Blood is up next where Tobor comes to terms with failing Bradon again and has his first fight in the pit. Part I will come out tomorrow. Valar Morghulis!
I see what the master is doing! His punishing others for Tobor's actions as he can likely see that Tobor cares about others. So he's teaching Toborr to obey by hurting other people whenever he's disobedient. That's what I think he's doing at least.
I'm kind of interested about Tobor's thoughts about his kill. He's hesitant to admit it but he liked it. I think there's some potential there for him to go dark! How exciting.
I really liked this part. Definitely one of my favorites. I enjoyed seeing that short glimpse of Tobor's new life.
Golden Coins and Iron Chains
Part 3
Tobor thought hard, if he trusted Tazhyn then she would either persuade Reznar to pit him against m… moreen, or against animals. If he didn't trust her then Reznar would likely pit him against animals anyway. However, if Tazhyn was doing it on Reznar’s orders, she could also make Tobor's life a lot worse if she knew that Tobor would trust her. Tazhyn had the power, and Tobor didn't like it. But then Tobor thought about facing a lion or a tiger in the pit. He would be meat for them, unable to win. Tobor knew what he needed to do. He would put his fate in the daughter of the slaver that ordered Bradon's beating, who bought him like livestock and who would force him to kill men and beasts for sport. Tobor didn't like the way that sounded.
With that quandary settled, Tobor decided to sleep. There wasn't much else to do in the small cell. He glanced at the three other beds and apprehensively wondered who he'd … [view original content]
The master's actions are a mixture between what you've just said and the fact that as a pit fighter, Tobor makes Reznar money. Reznar doesn't get money if Tobor is injured, so he punishes Bradon instead.
Tobor has been looking for power his whole life. He is a second son and his father is the fourth son of Lord Leyton Hightower so he's very far out of the line of succession. Because of this, he knows he won't get power there so he wants some elsewhere. That's why he went to join the Night's watch. That didn't work out, so he still wants power, he just found it somewhere he didn't expect, beating a man to death. This will play a part in the story to come.
Thanks! It was fun to write. I can't wait to post the next one, we learn a bit more of Tobor's back story!
I see what the master is doing! His punishing others for Tobor's actions as he can likely see that Tobor cares about others. So he's teachin… moreg Toborr to obey by hurting other people whenever he's disobedient. That's what I think he's doing at least.
I'm kind of interested about Tobor's thoughts about his kill. He's hesitant to admit it but he liked it. I think there's some potential there for him to go dark! How exciting.
I really liked this part. Definitely one of my favorites. I enjoyed seeing that short glimpse of Tobor's new life.
The weeks after the sailor's maiming passed slowly for Tobor. He was the cup bearer for the zo Merreq family, Reznar and his two daughters; Tazhyn and Mezzara. The second daughter was plump, with a head of straight black hair. Every mealtime Tobor was taken to the dining area of the zo Merreq pyramid and forced to stand still and silent as he watched the family eat meals that would make a king jealous. Soups of mushroom, pastries, pork ribs and stews that would make Tobor's mouth water. When they required wine or water Tobor would pour.
Tobor knew that Tazhyn would know what was happening with Bradon, so in the first week he tried to make eye contact with Tazhyn to let her know he wanted to talk but the girl ignored him. He gave up soon after. It appeared that Tazhyn had kept her end of the bargain to keep Tobor's language a secret. Reznar conversed openly with his daughters in Low Valyrian talking of business, family, trade and the like. He would leave Tobor in the room while haggling with slave owners for the buying and selling of slaves, oblivious to Tobor's comprehension. Reznar wasn't as clever as he thought he was.
After the meals Tobor returned to his cell to await the next serving he would have to be present for. Bradon hadn't been serving the meals since his fingers had been cut off. Tobor barely saw him, he returned to their cell late in the evening and didn't talk to Tobor. The sailor simply turned over and went to sleep. Tobor felt awful, he blamed himself and his loose tongue. Every night the same question ran through his head. Why didn't I shut my mouth?
One morning, Tazhyn knocked on his cell’s bars to wake him up. Tobor woke, bleary eyed, yawned and told her to come in. Bradon had already left. “Why ask? I am a slave.” He mused. Tazhyn shrugged, “slaves are people too, and I disagree with my father's business practices. Men aren't meant to be locked up and sold.” Tobor was quick to reply, “of course, you just live happy and rich off his ill-gotten gains.” Tazhyn looked at him oddly, “While I disagree, it is a daughter’s duty to support her father. Or is that not the custom in Westeros?” Tobor went to retort but was interrupted. “That was a rhetorical question. I didn't come here to argue, I told my father I was checking on your ribs. Which I am doing, before you get angry about that too. I also need to talk to you.”
She asked Tobor to remove his shirt and lie down. While Tobor was lying, she pressed on different parts of his chest and asked him where it hurt. There was still bruising on the skin, turned yellow and green now. But the ribs themselves had healed, she told him. Tobor sat up, and replaced his shirt. Tazhyn sat on the bed that was next to Tobor's.
“Now, I needed to ask you something.” Tazhyn said. “The slave you came here with, the one with the fingers cut off. Oh what's his name? Brandon?” Tobor corrected her. “That's it, Bradon, what happened? My father won't tell me but all the guards are talking about it.” Tobor explained the situation, the bowl and the food and how it was his fault and if he'd just done as the guard had wanted Bradon wouldn't have suffered as he did. Tazhyn put a hand on his wrist. “You can't blame yourself, Herazal has these foul moods and won't stop at anything to punish someone. Had you done as he asked he would have just beaten you anyway. Blame Herazal.” She glanced at her hand and removed it quickly.
Tobor disagreed with her, “I don't blame Herazal. I blame your father. Herazal wanted to beat me, and I would have accepted it. I wronged him, that was dishonourable of me. But your father stopped him.” He said it accusingly as if it were Tazhyn’s fault, “your father made him punish Bradon instead. I'd have swapped places with him instantly. But- but I couldn't, I was frozen. I failed him.”
All Tobor's built up emotion threatened to burst out, he took a shaky breath and calmed himself down. Tazhyn nodded awkwardly, not knowing what to say. “It wasn't against you personally,” she said softly, “you're a pit fighter, you'll make my father more silver than a server. I'm sorry Tobor.” She gazed at him with sympathetic brown eyes. Tobor thanked her, but the gratitude was empty. Tazhyn looked away.
“Do you know what Bradon is doing now? I haven't seen him outside this cell in what feels like weeks.” Tobor asked. Tazhyn replied, “the last I heard, he was still preparing the weapons for the fights and he was given a new task of cleaning the blood from the pit when the fights are over. Father said the sight of his hand turned his stomach when he served us. The guards say he doesn't sleep, just stays up the entire night watching the window.” Tobor remained silent.
Tazhyn got up to leave, “if there isn't anything else, then I'll leave you. Father will wonder why I'm taking so long. And Tobor, don't blame yourself. You say a craven blames his fate on the gods, but there are some things even the most powerful of men cannot control. The tides, when the sun rises and the actions of a mad man.” She turned around.
“Wait,” Tobor said. “I wanted to ask something of you.” Tazhyn faced him, smiling. “Is this another favour you'll ask of me?” Tobor shrugged, “I prefer to think of the last one as less a favour and more of a request.” The girl laughed, Tobor continued. “Your father is a dangerous man, but he's also clever. He knows I can make him a lot of silver.” Tazhyn laughed again, “well aren't you confident, a very confident little hero!” She chided gently.
Tobor ignored the joke. “So, if he puts me against a lion or a tiger or some other manner of beast, he's losing silver.” Tazhyn tutted, “not a very brave little hero, running away from a fight.” Tobor scoffed, “I don't run away. I'm being smart.”
“And humble,” Tazhyn added. Tobor rolled his eyes, this girl could go from being sympathetic to sarcastic in a matter of seconds. “Talk to your father, ask him to put me against a man. Suggest I might make more silver that way.” Tazhyn considered it, “very well, little hero. I will talk to my father for you. I'll suggest what you've asked. But I'll make no promises.” Tobor thanked her, “don't worry little hero, I'll try not to let you down.” With that she left Tobor alone with this thoughts, smiling through the bars as she locked his door.
Over the next few days Tazhyn visited several times, they talked of their families and their childhoods, foods they enjoyed and who's was the most annoying sibling. Tobor complained of Edwin, his youngest brother. “He'd always make up stories about how I, Mace or Kallum had stolen his things, I never understood him.” Tazhyn snorted, “is that all?” She asked, “Mezzara once cut off all my hair in my sleep, I woke up near bald!” Tobor laughed, then tried to keep a straight face in case a guard should hear.
Tazhyn giggled and shushed him. “What did you do to make her cut your hair off?” He gasped. “Nothing!” She replied, “Well, I might have frightened off a boy she liked, Azzak I think his name was. I was probably twelve and she was fourteen. Mezzara’s shy so she never talked to him, I doubt he knew who she was. Azzak was going to visit and meet Mezzara and I. So I told him that Mezzara was as fat as the pyramid and he never visited.” Tobor chuckled, “so you deserved it then?” He joked. Tazhyn tutted at him.
“I thought my brother Mace was always a prick to me.” Tobor mused. “As soon as I was old enough to hold a stick he would beat me senseless in what he called ‘training’. To this day I don't know if he wanted to make me better or if he wanted to hurt me. Maybe both. I suppose it helped, I can take a hit and I can fight. Mace always put honour above everything else. Above pride, above duty, even family. Even if he did talk shit all the time. He taught me how to be honourable. I ought to thank him one day.” Tazhyn looked sad, “I hope you will.”
Tobor grew serious. “Do you know when I will have my first fight?” He asked sombrely. Tazhyn hesitated, “I don't know.” Tobor narrowed his eyes, “what? What do you know?” He questioned. Tazhyn groaned and then came clean, “Well, when I talked to my father about you fighting he asked if your ribs were healed and I might have told him they need a few more days.” She admitted. Tobor was confused, “why were you so guilty about admitting it?”
Tazhyn stuttered, “well I-I just don't like lying to my father, but I just thought, I don't know, you might need a few more days. Just to make sure. Make sure your ribs are fine.” Tobor held in a smile. Tazhyn, red faced, excused herself quickly while muttering about her father needing to see her now. As he lay in bed that night, for the first time in weeks Tobor Hightower went to sleep smiling.
As the morning sun rose in the sky, Tobor pulled on a pair of brown leather boots, tucked his breeches into the boots and took a deep shaky breath, his bare chest rising and falling. Tobor's remaining fat had seeped away over the past weeks, leaving his torso lean and muscular, but skinny. The guards had told him to remove the linen shirt he'd been given, they had sniggered when they'd said it. They had then switched to Low Valyrian and conversed, oblivious to Tobor's understanding. “The twats only going to die in the pit, I'm saving a white shirt from turning red.” The two guards had laughed and walked out of the door, waiting for Tobor to follow.
It was the day of Tobor's first fight in the pit and he was preparing himself. The news had come the previous day, after serving Reznar his wine at the meal. Tazhyn had smiled apologetically as Reznar explained in the common tongue. He declined to tell Tobor whether he'd fight a man or beast.
The boy walked through the open door and trailed behind the two guards. The last time Tobor had felt this nervous was when he sat astride a great destrier; clad in heavy full plate armour that weighed him down. Ready to joust in the tilt for the first time. In his right hand he held a great twelve foot tourney lance and in his left a shield with a grey tower emblazoned on the front. “Stop worrying Tobor, in the moment you must strike, battle fever will take over your mind, you'll feel drunk. Time will slow for you, even stop. Everything will vanish, everything but the instant. Fear will go, you won't think. You'll simply act.” Edric had said to his young son. Tobor nodded uncertainly.
In the distance Tobor could see his brother Kallum, glinting in the morning sun at the end of the tourney ground. The brothers lowered their lances and spurred their mounts on. The rhythm of the hoof beats calmed Tobor as they galloped towards the centre of the tourney ground. All he could hear inside the stifling helmet was his own breathing. All he could see was Kallum, no, not even Kallum, just a suit of armour- a target to hit. As his brother came towards him, lance outstretched, Tobor aimed his own at his brothers shield.
All at once, Tobor felt a jerk at both arms and an impact at his breast. As Kallum’s lance smashed into and splintered on the inside edge of Tobor's shield, the stump of the lance scraped along the shield and into Tobor's breastplate. His elbow was forced back and he was lifted up into the air. The black destrier rode on, underneath Tobor's flailing legs. Tobor slammed down into the sandy ground and stared at the sky as his breath returned to him.
Kallum dismounted, laughing and ran over to Tobor. “Come on little brother, you can't hold a shield like that. You must deflect the lance strike away from your chest not into it!” Tobor groaned and swore at his brother. “Stop calling me little brother, I'm older than you, remember?” Kallum laughed again, “you're still smaller though!” He held out a hand for his brother. Tobor grudgingly accepted. Edric clapped in the distance and turned to leave. “I didn't do well, why is he clapping?” Tobor muttered to Kallum. His brother shook his head, “you managed to hit me at least, you broke a lance. That's not a bad start little brother. Did father ever tell you about his first joust? Very well, I'll tell you. He was likely around the same age as you. Father was mounted up ready, he was matched with Uncle Aldin in the Tourney at Ashemark. Then he kicked his horse to begin and the horse-”
Tobor interrupted. “I thought father married mother well after he was my age, how did he know Aldin?” Kallum punched him in the shoulder, half a joke. “I'm telling the story aren't I?” He continued. “Father’s horse reared and almost unseated him but he clung on. As they galloped towards each other Aldin saw that Father was nearly unseated and raised his lance up honourably to signal a draw. Father did the same. Father then dismounted and challenged Aldin to a duel to determine the match, he'd decided he hated jousting.” Tobor laughed and Kallum resumed speaking.
“A vicious battle was fought but Father proved the victor, the Lord of Ashemark was so impressed he offered Father the hand of his second daughter, Fraya Marbrand, when Father came of age. So father’s first joust was much worse than yours, his opponent had to let him pass unscathed just so he could stay on his horse.” Tobor giggled, “just imagine him holding on for his life!” Kallum laughed with him, “don't tell father I told you any of this, he does love it so to appear stoic and brave!” The brothers had laughed as they walked towards the tents.
Tobor smiled nostalgically as he remembered the moment. He wanted to see his family so badly. The guards led him through a narrow passageway with a low ceiling and sandy floor, the tunnel wound under what Tobor assumed was the pyramid. They walked for a few minutes then the ground began to lean uphill, Tobor's heart suddenly beat more and more rapidly, pounding against his ribs, he knew he was almost there. They came to a heavy metal door. One guard began fiddling with a set of keys while the other turned to Tobor. “On the other side of that door is a short tunnel where you'll find your choice of weapons, at the end of the tunnel is the door to the arena. Go through there and fight.” He explained, not unkindly. Tobor thanked him as the door swung open. Tobor swallowed, took a deep breath and walked in. The passage was dimly lit with torches that were flickering on the walls. The door slammed behind him.
He came to a table, set upon it were a small array of weapons. There was everything from a trident to a broadsword to a metal gauntlet with evil looking spikes protruding from it. Tobor knew he wouldn't be strong enough to wield any of the hammers, or great-axes. He didn't have the skill and training for spears or tridents and daggers and the gauntlet would be too short for this fight. Of course, Tobor knew the type of weapon he needed depended entirely on his opponent and what approach he would take, what strategy he would employ. The battle is won with the mind as it is with the sword, he remembered.
[Tire out opponent][Beat down opponent with force]
Tobor settled on choosing between a hand-and-a-half bastard sword, a dothraki Arakh, a four foot long wooden staff with the blade of a short sword on the end and pair of short axes. The sword was Tobor's favoured weapon, having trained with it. However, the element of surprise could be his if he used an Arakh, which was adept at slashing and cutting or the sword staff, which would give him reach, nobody would expect a small Westerosi boy to use such weapons.
[Tire out opponent] It's the smart approach and Tobor did just think that the battle is won with the mind. However I would pick force if I knew Tobor would pick the staff.
[Bastard sword] It's safer to stick to what you're good at.
Tazhyn is very quickly growing on me. I really like her! I'll be really disappointed if she turns out to be a snake.
Hot Sand and Warm Blood
Part 1
The weeks after the sailor's maiming passed slowly for Tobor. He was the cup bearer for the zo Merreq fa… moremily, Reznar and his two daughters; Tazhyn and Mezzara. The second daughter was plump, with a head of straight black hair. Every mealtime Tobor was taken to the dining area of the zo Merreq pyramid and forced to stand still and silent as he watched the family eat meals that would make a king jealous. Soups of mushroom, pastries, pork ribs and stews that would make Tobor's mouth water. When they required wine or water Tobor would pour.
Tobor knew that Tazhyn would know what was happening with Bradon, so in the first week he tried to make eye contact with Tazhyn to let her know he wanted to talk but the girl ignored him. He gave up soon after. It appeared that Tazhyn had kept her end of the bargain to keep Tobor's language a secret. Reznar conversed openly with his daughters in Low Valyrian talking of bu… [view original content]
Hot Sand and Warm Blood
Part 1
The weeks after the sailor's maiming passed slowly for Tobor. He was the cup bearer for the zo Merreq fa… moremily, Reznar and his two daughters; Tazhyn and Mezzara. The second daughter was plump, with a head of straight black hair. Every mealtime Tobor was taken to the dining area of the zo Merreq pyramid and forced to stand still and silent as he watched the family eat meals that would make a king jealous. Soups of mushroom, pastries, pork ribs and stews that would make Tobor's mouth water. When they required wine or water Tobor would pour.
Tobor knew that Tazhyn would know what was happening with Bradon, so in the first week he tried to make eye contact with Tazhyn to let her know he wanted to talk but the girl ignored him. He gave up soon after. It appeared that Tazhyn had kept her end of the bargain to keep Tobor's language a secret. Reznar conversed openly with his daughters in Low Valyrian talking of bu… [view original content]
Hot Sand and Warm Blood
Part 1
The weeks after the sailor's maiming passed slowly for Tobor. He was the cup bearer for the zo Merreq fa… moremily, Reznar and his two daughters; Tazhyn and Mezzara. The second daughter was plump, with a head of straight black hair. Every mealtime Tobor was taken to the dining area of the zo Merreq pyramid and forced to stand still and silent as he watched the family eat meals that would make a king jealous. Soups of mushroom, pastries, pork ribs and stews that would make Tobor's mouth water. When they required wine or water Tobor would pour.
Tobor knew that Tazhyn would know what was happening with Bradon, so in the first week he tried to make eye contact with Tazhyn to let her know he wanted to talk but the girl ignored him. He gave up soon after. It appeared that Tazhyn had kept her end of the bargain to keep Tobor's language a secret. Reznar conversed openly with his daughters in Low Valyrian talking of bu… [view original content]
Hot Sand and Warm Blood
Part 1
The weeks after the sailor's maiming passed slowly for Tobor. He was the cup bearer for the zo Merreq fa… moremily, Reznar and his two daughters; Tazhyn and Mezzara. The second daughter was plump, with a head of straight black hair. Every mealtime Tobor was taken to the dining area of the zo Merreq pyramid and forced to stand still and silent as he watched the family eat meals that would make a king jealous. Soups of mushroom, pastries, pork ribs and stews that would make Tobor's mouth water. When they required wine or water Tobor would pour.
Tobor knew that Tazhyn would know what was happening with Bradon, so in the first week he tried to make eye contact with Tazhyn to let her know he wanted to talk but the girl ignored him. He gave up soon after. It appeared that Tazhyn had kept her end of the bargain to keep Tobor's language a secret. Reznar conversed openly with his daughters in Low Valyrian talking of bu… [view original content]
[Tire out opponent] that is the smarter choice considerring his physique.[Arakh] with this he can go in with fast attacks to tire the opponent even more.
Hot Sand and Warm Blood
Part 1
The weeks after the sailor's maiming passed slowly for Tobor. He was the cup bearer for the zo Merreq fa… moremily, Reznar and his two daughters; Tazhyn and Mezzara. The second daughter was plump, with a head of straight black hair. Every mealtime Tobor was taken to the dining area of the zo Merreq pyramid and forced to stand still and silent as he watched the family eat meals that would make a king jealous. Soups of mushroom, pastries, pork ribs and stews that would make Tobor's mouth water. When they required wine or water Tobor would pour.
Tobor knew that Tazhyn would know what was happening with Bradon, so in the first week he tried to make eye contact with Tazhyn to let her know he wanted to talk but the girl ignored him. He gave up soon after. It appeared that Tazhyn had kept her end of the bargain to keep Tobor's language a secret. Reznar conversed openly with his daughters in Low Valyrian talking of bu… [view original content]
Just as I feared I might have missed a voting after being very busy yesterday, thankfully there is none here. There couldn't have been a better time for a part without a vote But oh, poor Bradon. I feel like he might end up blaming Tobor for this, even if it isn't really his fault. Fucking Reznar though, that is one hell to make a bad first impression. It really makes me nervous that Tobor is a prisoner of this man. Even if he himself is looked after, I think this will only remain as long as he is useful in combat. The moment he loses, his live will be in serious danger and not just because, well, he loses a fight.
Golden Coins and Iron Chains
Part 3
Tobor thought hard, if he trusted Tazhyn then she would either persuade Reznar to pit him against m… moreen, or against animals. If he didn't trust her then Reznar would likely pit him against animals anyway. However, if Tazhyn was doing it on Reznar’s orders, she could also make Tobor's life a lot worse if she knew that Tobor would trust her. Tazhyn had the power, and Tobor didn't like it. But then Tobor thought about facing a lion or a tiger in the pit. He would be meat for them, unable to win. Tobor knew what he needed to do. He would put his fate in the daughter of the slaver that ordered Bradon's beating, who bought him like livestock and who would force him to kill men and beasts for sport. Tobor didn't like the way that sounded.
With that quandary settled, Tobor decided to sleep. There wasn't much else to do in the small cell. He glanced at the three other beds and apprehensively wondered who he'd … [view original content]
Comments
Golden Coins and Iron Chains
Part 1
The pirate ship sailed softly into the port on the bank of the Skahazadan under the light of the sunrise, the orange glinted on the ripples in the brown water. Tobor was roughly woken up and dragged above deck, his wrists strapped together with rope. The anchor was dropped to moor the galley and the crew embarked on rowing boats. Any sound made by the captives was met with beating. They were cargo, and cargo doesn't speak. Once they were beside the dock, oars were drawn in and ropes were thrown to men on the pier for them to secure the boats to the wharf. The prisoners were dragged onto shore.
Tobor finally looked on the ship that had claimed Gethrys’ life. It was a large ship, Tobor could see that even with the distance, with two masts reaching up into the morning sky, dark sails hanging from them limply due to the still breeze. Beds of oars poked out from the side of the galley, stretching like so many tiny legs. It was an ugly ship. Tobor thought.
A voice came from behind him, “The Bloody Lady, she's called. A beauty of a ship, fastest o’ her size in at least twelve seas.” The turnkey from the ship smirked at him. “Her figurehead is a beautiful woman with her throat slit, the blood poured down her front. Some say the ghost of her haunts the decks at night.” He stated. Tobor looked at him and turned away. The turnkey grabbed his shoulder and snarled, “don't ignore me, prick. I haven't forgotten what you did on the ship. I'm going to watch you die, you mark my words.” Tobor snorted, “kill me yourself then.” The turnkey narrowed his beady eyes. “I-I can't do that.” Tobor mocked disbelief, “you can do what you want, you're a god.” Anger flashed in the gaoler’s eyes, he grabbed Tobor by the throat. “Don't mock me!" He growled. "I'm still going to watch you die, boy.” Tobor struggled against the grip of the pirate, “careful, Captain Bloodtaker is watching.” He managed to choke out. The gaoler’s hand shot back to his side as he desperately searched for his captain, petrified that he had disappointed the Pirate Lord of Norvos. When the pirate captain was nowhere to be seen, the turnkey realised what Tobor had done. He rounded on him angrily, “Boy, next time you mock me, you'll feel my cold steel in your guts!” He pulled his sword slightly from his belt, just enough to make his point.
Tobor shrugged, “I think not.” He walked away from the empty threat to join the line of prisoners forming at the dock. The turnkey slunk off to keep guard near the boats. The captives were marched through the port, up a winding path that looked like a rope laid before them that had been looped down the hill side. The city of Meereen was set before them, grand and beautiful. The largest of the great pyramids rose up above the walls, it's point scraping the clouds. Tobor could vaguely see at the point of the pyramid stood a vicious harpy, which he knew was snarling and looking down over the city of slaves.
They were led through the city gates which were adorned with bronze harpy heads with gaping mouths that could have scolding oil poured through them onto would-be attackers. The gates were guarded by scores of slaves armed with shields and spears that made up the city guard. They were dressed in boiled leather armour, not made to defend against an army. Meereen was a city that defended itself against sieges. Although, Tobor knew that a band of twenty good men could get in and take out the head of the snake, the Great Masters that would be residing in the pyramids.
Inside the cluttered city, the narrow streets were bustling with trade of goods; livestock, metals, weapons, foods, drinks and of course; men, women and children. A dirty smell hung in the air. A small boy ran across the straw strewn floor, holding a stick and teasing a dog that bounded after him. A horse-drawn cart laden with ornate pottery passed in front of the procession of prisoners. The horse stopped in front to relieve itself and the pirate who was leading the group yelled at the merchant to move. In the shouting match that was taking place, Tobor saw a chance, he leant down and picked up a stone. His hands still tied together, he drew both hands back and launched the stone at the cart. It struck the horse on his hindquarters and the horse whinnied, kicking out with it’s back legs.
The hooves smashed into the pirate's temple. The man dropped to the floor like a sack of flour. The merchant rushed to the pirates side and the horse reared, spilling the pots onto the cobbled street with a series of smashes and cracks. Tobor didn't stop to see what happened next. He shot off like an arrow from the string, into the crowd gathering and down an alleyway, he heard shouts behind him but he kept running.
Dodging people, jumping over beggars in the street Tobor ran until his lungs were about to burst. His stopped and put his hands on his knees, breathing rapidly. He gave a little triumphant shout, he had done it. He was free. What to do now? He hadn't dared to think what he would do if he made it. Tobor thought hard, he should go back to the port. Find a ship that was going to Westeros and get aboard. But not today, or tomorrow. The pirates would still be there, The Bloody Lady would be there. He needed to find somewhere to stay tonight.
As if thinking those thoughts brought them to him, a pair of men walked round the corner. They were dressed in the boiled leather of the city watch and held spears. They looked suspiciously at Tobor as they passed him. Tobor tried to act inconspicuous. Well, as much as a foreign boy could with his hands tied. One guard held a hand out to the other, and turned around. “Boy, why are your hands tied?” He asked as he walked up to Tobor. As he realised the guard was speaking Low Valyrian, Tobor struggled to think of the right answer. At a loss, he pushed one of the guards into the other, while hooking a foot around his ankle. The guards sprawled into a heap as Tobor turned and darted around the corner… right into someone. Tobor knocked her hood down as he clattered into her, revealing a short ponytail of dark hair. She scowled, “are you always this clumsy? Or is this just a special day for you, git.” Her eyes pierced his. She had been talking to a taller man, heavily built and with a broken nose.
Tobor struggled to apologise, he was out of breath. “No need, I wouldn't understand whatever you're about to say. I don't speak twat.” She said brusquely, cutting him off. The guards came hurtling round the corner. “There he is!” One of them roared. At the other end of the alleyway several pirates turned the corner. Trapping Tobor in. The girl grinned and produced a long plain dagger and cut through his bindings deftly. “Good luck you clumsy bastard.” She said. Tobor glanced at the oncoming attackers, then back to the girl, but she had gone. Why had she helped me? Shaking his head, Tobor prepared himself, no time to worry about that. He thought. Unwilling to go down without a fight, Tobor took a defensive stance, with his fists ready.
The first man came at him, a pirate and Tobor delivered a swift punch to his throat, leaving him choking on the floor. The guards advanced with their spears, unwilling to kill an unarmed boy so they held the deadly ends away from Tobor. Still, the butt of the spear hurt as it slammed into Tobor's back. Cursing, Tobor span around and got close the guard, where a spear was useless. He drove his head into the guards unprotected nose, yielding a spurt of blood as the nose bone crumpled. He slammed his knee in between the legs of the guard. The man went down groaning.
Someone kicked the back of Tobor's leg and Tobor went down to one knee, snarling. Then a blow from the front dazed him. He didn't know where it came from. Roughly forced to his feet, he was marched back to the Main Street, and the pirate put in charge of leading them produced a wicked looking scourge. “Ten lashes for escaping, and seven because I'm a mean bastard,” he announced. Tobor was held in place facing away from the leader. Each strike forced a grunt of pain from Tobor's lips, whipping into his back with immense pain. His captors bound him, hands tighter than ever. His arms pinned to his sides and his legs bound loose enough to walk, but not to run. The procession continued, Tobor's back ached with pain.
The route through Meereen took them past butchers, fountains, brothels and finally ended opening up into a daunting plaza where a crowd had gathered. In the far end of the square was a raised wooden platform where a man stood calling out strange sounding words and pointing to random places in the rabble. Next to him stood a dark skinned woman, her clothes in a pile next to her and an iron collar clasped around her neck. It was a slave auction.
The auctioneer was saying numbers, “Lot thirty-four,” the words were accompanied by a crack of his whip. “Look at her, she's a rare beauty all the way from Lys. Bring her to a pleasure house or make her serve your drinks. Whatever she does she'll do it looking good enough for a fuck!” The auctioneer finished to a myriad of cries and bids. The line of prisoners was led through the crowd to the platform. “Settle down, settle down, let's start the bidding at three hundred silvers.” The count soon grew to six hundred silvers and when it began to slow, the girl sold for six hundred and fifty silvers. She was dragged off to her new master sobbing, her raggedy clothes left on the platform. During the next lots, the night's watch recruits sold for between three and four hundred silvers.
Next up was a sailor, Bradon who'd been with Tobor on The Stag's Fury, they had shared a drink of rum in the crow’s nest one evening and had shown Tobor how to tie a bowline, figure of eight and cleat hitch knots. It was he who had taught Tobor all the drinking games he'd known, all the rude jokes and the funny stories. He'd laughed and looked after Tobor as the boy had rum for the first time and vomitted over the side of the ship. He was the only sailor who hasn't treated him like some little lordling, he'd only treated him as a little brother.
A guard watching over the subsequent lots stalked up to Tobor, “what did you do then? To get all those ropes?” Tobor shrugged, as best he could. “Tried to escape I reckon. It doesn't matter, you won't sell for much with those ropes. And the Great Masters can't know you're an escape risk.” The guard unsheathed a knife, and sawed through the ropes, they fell in a heap at the ground. Like a nest of vipers. All but the ones around his wrists.
Dejectedly he watched the sailor get dragged onto the auction block. Bradon let an elbow fly into the face of one of the men dragging him, breaking his nose and earning himself a dozen lashes. The man who's nose streamed with blood drove a crude fist across the sailor’s face. Tobor gritted his teeth in anger at his friend in pain and gripped hard onto the rope around his wrists. He noticed the rope was fraying and coming slightly loose and gave a quick look around. The guard must have cut through them slightly!
Tobor was in the midst of the group of sailors and night’s watch recruits so he began rubbing his wrists together frantically to further loosen the ropes. No-one could see. He tugged and pulled but all it seemed to get him was rope burnt wrists, until finally he felt enough room to slip his hand out of the loop, despite feeling like it would break as he wrenched free. Excited at the thought of freedom, Tobor pictured a gallant escape where he cut down swathes of evil slavers in a desperate bid for to save Bradon but knew that only happened in stories. Tobor wasn't in a story. Instead, he wrapped the untied rope around his wrists and tied a loose knot, so as not to give away the fact he was free.
“Three hundred silvers, if there are no further bids then lot forty-three goes to you, Reznar.” The auctioneer pointed into the sea of people. The sailor’s back was torn and bloody where each one of the lashes had left it’s savage mark. Blood weeped openly from the crisscross trails. The Great Master who had bought the sailor was carried to the platform on a litter carried by ten slaves. There, he inspected his prize. Bradon’s face was bloody and bruised. The Master stood up from his throne and walked precariously on his palanquin towards the sailor. The sailor coughed and flecks of blood were expelled into the air, some landing on the Master.
The slaver smiled coldly, clicked his fingers and gave a whistle. While the master wiped his face with a cloth, two of the Great Master’s house guards snapped to attention and jumped up to the platform. One pulled a wooden cudgel from his belt and beat Bradon upside the face with it, smashing into his cheek. The sailor hit the ground. Kicks flew at the downed man, they seemed to be beating him to death. Tobor ground his teeth and ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair, he knew the consequences if he got in the way now. He'd be whipped, tortured and hung up for carrion crows. Do I throw it all away for honour? He thought. Am I coward if I do nothing?
“We light the way,” he muttered to himself, his house’s words. “We light the way.” Again. A guard looked round as he heard Tobor and told him to shut his mouth or lose his tongue. His father’s words echoed in his mind, “as true men of House Hightower, we are like the High Tower, Tobor, we rise above the rest of the world; but as we rise we are in view of those who need us. So we must stay pure, and we must stay true. Let your mind shine out for all those too weak to help themselves, let your eyes be the beacon and show them the way. For we light the way. Just as the High Tower rises in the sky and it's flame shines out to every ship in a stormy sea. We must rise and light the way for all men. We light the way.”
[Help Bradon] [Do nothing]
Nice part! [Help Bradon] Tobor must stay honoureble!
[Do nothing] Too risky to help Bradon.
[Help Brandon]
Ha! That was brilliant!
[Help Bradon] "Let your mind shine out for all those too weak to help themselves"
Thanks! I'm sure Tobor would have had a retort if he wasn't so preoccupied
Wise words from Edric there.
[Do nothing] he could get caught doing that
Now, ain't that a nice surprise
I did not expect that little cameo, but safe to say, I loved it greatly! Makes me super excited for what's to come next. And well, I gotta admit, the "I don't speak twat" line made me chuckle a bit 
[Help Bradon]
I feel like this is what Tobor should do. He wants to be honourable and helping a friend in need is the way to go. Yes, this is going to be painful, but I don't think they are going to outright kill him. Instead, there might even be a chance for him there. Some of the potential buyers might be impressed by such loyalty and courage. Maybe not the kind of masters one wants to attract, but certainly, loyalty and courage can be useful for some types of slave.
I thought you'd like it! She's actually the first submitted character showing up in the story.
Helping Bradon is what Tobor thinks is right, regardless of which way this vote goes he will know that. So he knows that helping Bradon us the honourable thing to do.
Voting is closed!
Tobor will [Help Bradon]
Definitely a tough choice, save someone else at risk of your life or save yourself at the risk of someone else's life. I wasn't sure which way this would go but I'm glad. Next part will be posted tomorrow, and we find out what the consequences are. Looking forward to it.
Golden Coins and Iron Chains
Part 2
Tobor looked the guard in the eye, “we light the way,” he whispered in Low Valyrian. The guard looked at him quizzically, “I said shut your fucking mouth,” he growled and thrust the shaft of his spear towards Tobor's face, aiming to strike him with the wooden end. Tobor ducked under the spear and grabbed hold. The guard, not expecting a young boy to put up a fight was taken off guard. Tobor turned, facing away from the guard and pulled viciously on the spear as he knelt down. The guard was dragged over Tobor and tripped, falling from the raised platform and landed in a heap on the ground. Tobor drove the end of the wooden shaft into the guard’s temple, rendering him unconscious. Gasps and shouts filled the plaza.
Tobor sprinted towards Bradon, dodging the outstretched arms of other guards on the platform, he barrelled into the house guard of the Great Master holding the cudgel, knocking him to the floor and spilling the cudgel within arms reach. Knelt on the chest of the guard, Tobor grabbed the thick stick and brought it down on the head of the guard, over and over. A dull squelching crunch sounded with each strike. Blood covered the ruined mess of the house guard’s face, his cheek crumpled. Then a burst of pain came from his side, Tobor shouted out in agony and was thrown sideways by the boot that had connected with him, he spread his hands to soften the impact but splinters attacked his fingers and palms.
Now boots came flying from all directions around him, Tobor covered his head with his arms and curled up to protect himself. Pain surrounded him, suffocating him. It was a blanket of water. Tobor felt calm, almost as if he wasn't Tobor anymore, he was just in the body of this boy. The pain was dulled now, Tobor could smell the leather of the boots kicking him and the metallic scent of blood.
Then it was over. Tobor rolled onto his back, looking up at the blue morning sky. Why was it over? Why is everything so foggy? He thought. And why is it so blurry? He remembered now; they were going to kill me for striking one of them. That reminded him, he looked over at the house guard he had beaten with the cudgel, he was being dragged away by other guards from the household of the Great Master. Perhaps dead. Tobor groaned, they're waiting to kill me and they'll make it slow. He coughed and rolled over, then vomited on the platform, a mixture of bile and blood. The act sent a sharp stab of pain to his chest. Someone was saying something, Tobor struggled to concentrate. “Reznar zo Merreq, this wretch dared to harm your personal guard, I leave it to your discretion to decide how to kill him.” The words sounded fuzzy and far off. Tobor rubbed his eyes, his head felt light and stuffy. He pushed himself up to his knees, his head span.
He looked at the man who held his fate in his hands. The Great Master Reznar zo Merreq had short black hair and a thin face, olive skinned and with dark brown eyes that looked deep enough to swim in. He was dressed in a tokar, a robe that was wrapped over his left shoulder, around his waist, it fell down to his sandals. It was impractical, a show of power more than anything. The maroon silk was fringed with golden Myrish lace.
Tobor tried to speak but he choked on the blood in his mouth, spluttered and coughed out the mouthful. Reznar laughed coldly, “he has fight I'll give him that, not afraid to bleed.” He stroked his chin in deep thought. “Three thousand.” The auctioneer stuttered, “but, honourable Reznar, this cretin attacked one of your own guards, he must be put to death!” Reznar glared at the man, fury gleamed in his dark eyes, then he calmed himself. “Three thousand silvers,” he repeated softly.
The auctioneer went to protest but Reznar cut him off, “three thousand silvers, it has been left to my discretion for how to kill the wretch, should you ever presume to question me again your heart will feed crows and your flesh will feed your family.” Terrified, the auctioneer bowed and retreated. Reznar instructed his remaining house guard to take Tobor and Bradon to the Pyramid of Merreq, he was roughly picked up and thrown onto a cart that was hand-pulled by three slaves. Tobor blinked at the blue sky and shut his eyes.
Through the fog, Tobor could see his mother, she was right there. Her blonde hair whispered in the breeze. Standing before him, beautiful but as pale as she'd looked on the day of her funeral. She looked sad. The sudden flux that had taken her had left her weak and thin, until her life was scattered to the wind like ash. Tobor reached out to her but his hand passed through her as if she was made of mist. The motion caused her shape to distort and ripple. Tobor shouted at the receding images. The mist faded away.
An acute pain brought Tobor from his slumber, he opened his bleary eyes a dark stone ceiling stared back at him. Tobor looked around the small room, three walls were the same black stone and for the third wall iron bars reached up from the floor. Tobor realised someone else was there, she was wiping at his chest with a warm damp cloth. Someone had taken his clothes and replaced them with a pair of breaches. He started and sat up quickly. A mistake. His head swam and blurred lights danced behind his eyes; he lay back down. “Don't move too much.” Her soft voice said. Tobor tried to speak, his words felt hard and laboured, “I won't.” He murmured.
Instead he looked at the girl, she looked to be fourteen perhaps. Large brown eyes stared intently at her work as she chewed on her bottom lip. Curly, dark-mahogany coloured hair fell down her back and over her shoulders. She had a powdering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and over her olive skinned, boyish face. She had a fair sort of common face.
The pressure from the cloth stung his chest. He let out a gasp of air, which only aggravated the pain. “You need to stop moving; you've hurt your ribs. They aren't broken, only bruised, but if you stop moving they'll stop hurting while I work. Take shallow breaths and don't cough.” The girl instructed in Low Valyrian. Tobor complied. She washed the dried blood from his torso, and applied a herbal paste to the cuts and bruises. She then turned to Tobor's head, she wiped a cloth on his forehead and over his eye, the cloth came away bright red. Tobor flinched when she touched his left eyebrow. There must be a cut there, he thought. The girl wiped away the rest of the blood from his face and applied the paste again. Then she told him to sit up. Tobor did so slowly and with great difficulty.
Once his head had stopped spinning, Tobor felt immediately better and less prone to vomiting. The girl spoke, “they'll take around the turn of the moon to heal. In the meantime you need to breath normally; take deep breaths when you can, don't stay still and keep moving.”
Tobor nodded and stood up: his side ached. He walked over to the small window above head height that was only a few inches in height and an arm’s span width. Looking out he could see people's ankles as they hurried past; the room was below the streets surface. “What's to be done with me?” He asked in her tongue. “Done? You killed one of Reznar zo Merreq’s personal house guards. You'll die soon no doubt.” She replied. Tobor turned away from the window. “I don't understand, why was I bought if I was to be put to death?” Tobor asked confusedly. The girl shrugged uncaringly, “I assumed you'd been bought and then attacked the guard afterwards in a desperate attempt to get away.” She giggled, “futile I'm sure.”
Tobor grew irritated, this girl knew nothing. “They beat my friend, I was trying to help him.” He shot back. The girl’s eyes looked sad, “best thing you could have done was leave him.”
“I couldn't ever leave a friend in peril!” He retorted. The girl scoffed, “you're an honourable one then? A pity, the honourable ones always die first. You'll have to learn to leave your friends in peril and look away. You'll only make it worse for them and you. I'm sure your friend suffered a beating tenfold worse than if you'd left him.” Tobor was wordless. He didn't know what to say, could it be true? It made sense. Too much sense.
“I've heard talk you'll be put in the fighting pits: once you recover. Maybe a wolf will be sent in with you; or a lion, tiger, bear or whatever creature will kill you in the most amusing way. Perhaps you'll fight men. Whichever it may be, you'll be dead soon. My apologies to put it so bluntly, but you're brave enough to fight the masters, or foolish enough. You should know the truth. I've seen it enough times. Pray to your gods, ask them why they sent you here and why they let this be your fate, blame them, but accept it. It's easier that way.” Tears sprang unbidden to his eyes.
He turned away so the girl wouldn't see. He'd never see the Wall, never see his father again, or his brothers. He'd never stare in awe at the High Tower. Then he cursed himself for being childish. He was fifteen, near enough a man grown. Tobor resolved in that moment, to see the Wall. He would survive whatever man or beast was put in the pit. Tobor turned around with steely determination in his eye. “The man who blames his fate on gods is the most craven of all. A man makes his own fate. I carried myself here, and I will carry myself out of here. Let them come.” The girl smiled at the ground and looked back at Tobor with those dark eyes. “How profound.” She said. Tobor wasn't amused. “Why are you so sure I'm not going to live?” Tobor asked. The girl looked sad, “like I said, the honourable ones die first. Valar Morghulis.”
Tobor nodded, “Valar Morghulis. All men must die.” He agreed. Tobor paused for a moment. “Aye, but first I intend to live.” The girl almost looked impressed, just for a second. “Come on little hero, thank me and let me on my way, I have other duties.” She said lightly.
“My name is Tobor. You have my thanks...” Tobor waited for a name in response. The girl turned around, her brown hair dancing through the air. “And you have my thanks, Tobor,” she said. “For what?” He replied, perplexed. “Amusement, distraction, someone to talk to.” She replied as she walked out the door.
“As you're convinced I'm a dead man, it would be fitting for you to grant me a request.” Tobor called out. The girl laughed and faced him, “Is tending to your wounds not enough?” She held a hand to her chest in mock betrayal, “or are you asking a fair maiden for a kiss before you die?” Tobor shook his head, “tell no-one I speak your tongue. If it is truly as you say then it will mean nothing; I'll die and nothing will come of it. But if I live, then I keep my secret. Think of it like a wager. For my life.” The girl smiled, “you're bold. I'm inclined to accept your wager. I'll keep your secret if you'll keep mine.” Tobor held out his hand, the girl shook it. Her hands were warm. “Don't tell my father I let you keep your boots.” She winked. Tobor was confused, “your father? I don't under…” The realisation dawned on him.
“My name is Tazhyn zo Merreq, Reznar is my father.” And with that Tazhyn zo Merreq span on her heel and walked through the cell door, grinning cheekily as she locked it behind her. Tobor could barely keep his mouth shut.
Tobor walked over to one of the beds in the corner of the room and sat on it. A white linen shirt was set beside him, to accompany his new black breeches. In the corner were his black boots, courtesy of Reznar’s daughter. She's his daughter. Tobor was instantly suspicious, what's her plan? Is she being honest? Could she actually be helping me out of the goodness of her heart? Is Reznar behind this? So many unanswerable questions had been thrown up by this revelation. Tobor supposed there was naught he could do about it. He should be wary. Although…
Tobor remembered what Tazhyn had said about the beasts that could be thrown into the pit with him. Tobor had never even seen a tiger, lion or a bear. Perhaps as his daughter, Tazhyn could persuade Reznar to only pit him against men. Tobor understood how men could fight, to the extent a young boy could. However, if this was Reznar’s doing, trusting her could mean his death.
[be cautious, don't trust Tazhyn] [trust Tazhyn to help with her father]
Great part! Normally I'm totally trustfull but I'm not sure here so lets go the safe route an
[be cautious, don't trust Tazhyn] we can trust her if she earns it.
Thanks! It's a tough one for sure, I wouldn't know what to do. And I have no idea how this vote is going to turn out!
[trust Tazhyn] Well I like her. It may be smarter to be cautious but screw smart! She could turn out to be a snake but for now I think she at least deserves the benefit of the doubt. Don't judge a daughter for the actions of her father.
As I said I like her. She's cool, playful and likeable, despite her cynical attitude.
[trust Tazhyn to help with her father]
I dont know If i can trust her.But she is likable.Ah was in a bit of trouble with this choice and I came in final about trusting her
[trust Tazhyn to help with her father]
Love interrest for tobor , i would if i was him .^^
When you're in the game of thrones universe "screw smart" isn't usually the phrase you want to hear
but I agree, giving someone a chance is a good idea, but it's got massive consequences if you mis judge them.
I see your point but my mind set is usually what I consider to be good and right over what may be considered wise. I also find really good guys appealing in GOT because of how harsh it is.
Fair enough, you sound like Ned in the first season (that's a complement
)
Well Ned is a perfect example, Robb as well! You can't help but respect someone who chooses the moral thing over what's smart or more beneficial.
Ah fair point, wouldn't the moral thing have been marry the Frey girl for Robb? Choosing the moral thing over smart or more beneficial brings to mind the quote from batman: "You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain."
[trust Tazhyn to help with her father]
Here's the thing, I do not trust Tazhyn. However, I don't think we can afford not to trust her. There's really nothing to lose here, if she is willing to help Tobor out he has gained an ally. If she won't help him, if we can't trust her, then nothing about his situation will change. It's either potentially gaining some help, or still not having anyone to make things easier for him. Unless of course she's a bit two-faced, screwing him over on purpose if he asks her to persuade her father, but I doubt she'd do this.
[trust Tazhyn to help with her father]
Robb's decision to not marry the Frey girl was more of an impulsive decision. That was Robb acting on his emotions, not choosing between what he felt to be right and wrong.
Very good points, however Tobor does have something to lose. All he has is his life, Tazhyn could persuade her father to put Tobor against a man or against a grizzly bear. She has power over him and that scares Tobor who doesn't know if he can trust her
Yeah I guess you're right. Imagine how it would have turned out if Robb had married the Frey girl.
Voting is closed!
Tobor will [Trust Tazhyn to help with her Father]
There's a lot riding on this choice, it could mean Tobor's life or death. Or at least, it could land him in a lot of sticky situations. Tazhyn has all the power at the moment.
The next part will come out in a couple of days. I'm away at the moment for a week and a half so I have limited writing time. I'll do my best to continue writing parts. Looking forward to Tobor's story continuing! In the next part Tobor fully realises the consequences of helping Bradon.
Golden Coins and Iron Chains
Part 3
Tobor thought hard, if he trusted Tazhyn then she would either persuade Reznar to pit him against men, or against animals. If he didn't trust her then Reznar would likely pit him against animals anyway. However, if Tazhyn was doing it on Reznar’s orders, she could also make Tobor's life a lot worse if she knew that Tobor would trust her. Tazhyn had the power, and Tobor didn't like it. But then Tobor thought about facing a lion or a tiger in the pit. He would be meat for them, unable to win. Tobor knew what he needed to do. He would put his fate in the daughter of the slaver that ordered Bradon's beating, who bought him like livestock and who would force him to kill men and beasts for sport. Tobor didn't like the way that sounded.
With that quandary settled, Tobor decided to sleep. There wasn't much else to do in the small cell. He glanced at the three other beds and apprehensively wondered who he'd be sharing with. Tobor lay down on the straw mattress and closed his eyes. There were no blankets or pillows. Just a thin straw mattress on a wooden frame. Sleep didn't come to Tobor. All he could think of was the cudgel smashing into the guards face time and time again. The crunch of his cheeks and the spray of his blood, flecks hitting Tobor's face. The worst part was how it felt. Tobor had felt powerful in that moment. He'd enjoyed it. The crash of wood on bone. Tobor was scared about how he felt. He knew that guard was probably a father, or a son, or a brother. He didn't feel quite right about that, but he knew he should care more.
The scrape of a key in the door pulled his mind back into the room, he sat up too quickly and clutched his side in pain. Behind the bars were two house guards who were holding a third man between them with a linen sling around his left arm. The man’s head hung loosely onto his chest and his legs trailed behind from how they'd dragged him. As the men pulled him through the cell door and laid him roughly on the nearest bed to Tobor, he groaned and his head lolled back. Tobor recognised him. Through the red and purple angry swelling covering his face like a mask, it was Bradon. Dry blood covered his chest, caking it. His swollen cheek was split open, oozing blood.
Tobor went to the side of his friend. “Bradon, are you alright?” He asked, worried. Bradon nodded. “Just gimme a moment,” he groaned. Tobor waited anxiously for Bradon to sit up, when the sailor finally did, Tobor went to speak. “Don't worry little brother, I don't blame you.” Bradon cut him off. Tobor breathed a sigh of relief and apologised. Bradon waved it away. “Next time, just let it happen. I can take a beating, but it doesn't mean I want to.” Tobor looked at the broken face of his friend and felt guilt wash over him. Tazhyn was right, he shouldn't have done anything. But how could he have done nothing? The honourable thing to do was help. Help those who cannot help themselves. That was right, wasn't it?
Tobor nodded and apologised again. Bradon told him not to worry. “So, little brother, how are you finding slavery?” He quipped. Tobor laughed and then grew serious. “They're making me fight in the pit, Bradon. I'm going to fight men, beasts or whatever shit they throw in there.” Bradon put a hand on his shoulder, “don't worry little brother, you're a tough bastard. You're young and fast. You'll cut the Meereenese pricks to pieces.” Tobor appreciated Bradon’s support and while he found it hard to believe, he reminded himself that he was going to see the Wall when this was over. “What are you going to do?” Tobor asked. Bradon replied that due to his broken arm he would serve the zo Merreq family food during the day, and when a fight was going on in the pits he would prepare the weapons for the fighters. “I suppose I should be happy about this damn thing,” he mused, looking at his arm. “Otherwise I'd be in the pit with you.” Bradon’s attempt to make light of the dark alternative did nothing to help Tobor's worry.
Hours of talking passed them by until they were interrupted by a guard tapped on the bars with his cudgel. With stilted language, he instructed them to follow him for mealtime. He spoke the common tongue relatively well. On the way he explained that slaves get one meal a day, just after the sun is highest. “You'll wait in the line, and then get your meal. Leave the bowl in the room. It is cleans after by other slaves.” The guard went on about the different rules; insubordination is ten lashes, lying is twenty, raising a hand to the guards is fifty and raising a hand to the Great Master or his family is two hundred. The guard sneered, “I promise, you won't live through one hundred of them if you do.”
The entire slave quarters complex was underneath the pyramid of the family of zo Merreq, it was a twisting maze of passages and cells. The walls of the passages were made of dusty, light coloured stone and the walls of cells was the same black stone in Tobor's cell. Most of the cells were empty, as the guard explained. “Everyone is at meal.” Those too weak, and those too beaten to eat were still in their cells.
When they arrived at the meal hall the guard left them to go inside. Tobor and Bradon entered and the door was locked behind them. The meal hall was a huge room, beams crossing overhead. Pillars standing, holding the ceiling up. Rows and rows of tables and benches were deliberately lined up so as to fit as many slaves in at once, some chairs stood at the heads of tables, heavy oak. Even with the large room and the masses of benches it was crammed. There must have been at least five hundred slaves in the room, Tobor guessed. The room was filled with quiet conversations. At the far end were several enormous pots, being served out by kitchen slaves in wooden bowls.
Tobor and Bradon lined up to receive their one meal for the day. The bowl handed to them was filled with a watery brown, greasy looking stew. Tobor knew better than to question it. He beckoned the sailor over once they'd both been given their stew. They sat at the two nearest available seats. “What kind of shit is this?” Bradon whispered, “I got better than this when we boiled the rats to eat at sea after running out of provisions!” Tobor chuckled and poked at a lump in the stew with his finger. They hadn't been given spoons. Tobor winced as he bit into the lump, it was tough but after having not eaten for the day it didn't bother him. Tobor almost liked it. “It could be rat, you know.” He suggested. The sailor shook his head. “This place does have a fighting pit…” He let Tobor figure out the rest.
Tobor stared at Bradon, eyes wide. “Fuck off. You can't think…” he stopped, unwilling to finish the sentence. Bradon gave a hearty laugh. “No, of course not little brother. This meat isn't man have no doubt.” Tobor let out a sigh, the sailor grinned and winked. “Men are much nicer than this.” Bradon gave another chuckle. Tobor mocked his laugh and threw one of the lumps at him, it struck his face and tumbled down into his lap. A shout rang out across the hall. A stream of unintelligible Low Valyrian poured out of an angry guards mouth. The hall went silent. Tobor looked over, a tall, bald man was striding towards them, fury written on his face. Brown eyes and skin stretched taut over his sharp cheekbones. A square jawline gave way to a thick neck. He wore only breeches and sandals, presenting a body rippled with muscle. A vicious sword hung at his side, which would have been more suited in a butchers than a battle. The guard marched over and grabbed Tobor's head, slamming it down onto the table surface. He scraped Tobor's face along the wood and pushed down hard.
“You don't like our food boy?” He snarled in Low Valyrian, holding out the bowl. Tobor played dumb, “I don't know what you're saying!” He spoke in the common tongue. The guard switched to Tobor's tongue and repeated what he'd said. Tobor nodded as best he could with his head pressed to the table. The guard smashed the bowl of stew onto Tobor's hand, pain shot up his arm as grease and meat flew in all directions. “Answer me when I ask you a question!” He roared, showering spittle.
Tobor struggled against the guards immense strength. The guard pressed harder, grinding the boy's head into the table. In the end he swallowed his pride. “My apologies, I do like the food. It was a mistake to throw it.” The guard let him up, Tobor put a hand to his flaming cheek. When he took his hand away blood was dotted on it. “Pass me your bowl, worm.” He gestured to the wooden bowl that had been knocked on the floor. Tobor chewed his tongue to stop himself answering back and leant down to pick it up, the guard put his foot on the side of Tobor's stomach and kicked him over. Tobor landed heavily on his bruised ribs and let out an inaudible gasp of pain. “Pass me your bowl worm.” The guard repeated. Biting back the pain and a retort Tobor stood up with bowl in hand, he offered it to the guard. As a response, the guard spat a mouthful into the bowl. “Eat your food, worm.” Tobor looked at him, aghast. He can't expect me to eat that, Tobor thought. The entire hall was watching.
“Did you lie to me when you said you liked the food?” The guard questioned. Tobor shook his head and the guard moved with lightening pace as he slapped Tobor across the face. “I told you to answer me. I swear by the Graces. If you disrespect me one more time I'll give you so many lashes you'll beg me to kill you.” Tobor looked the guard in his brown, beady eyes. “No I didn't lie.” He said softly. The guard smiled cruelly, “then eat the food, if you are no liar.” Tobor took a deep breath. The guard cocked his head like a dog, “eat the food.” He echoed in a deep menacing voice. “Eat the food or so help me, I will fuck your mother into the ground, cut off your father’s cock and feed it to her!” He bellowed.
Tobor stared at the head guard unblinkingly. “My mother is already in the ground.” He stated without emotion. “So unless you like fucking corpses, you've made a mistake.” The guard looked shocked, surprised at the insolence. He swelled with red rage. Tobor prepared himself, regretting nothing.
“Herazal, stand down.” Came a voice. Heads turned in confusion. Reznar zo Merreq walked into the hall; one hand holding his tokar to his chest, the other swinging by his side. The guard, clearly named Herazal, grunted and stepped back. “This.. this boy disrespected me.” He spat the word boy out like rotten food. Reznar nodded. “I heard him.” Herazal looked confused. Reznar continued in the common tongue for Tobor's benefit, “I know he disrespected you my dear Herazal but I simply cannot have you beating my pit fighter while he is healing, that would cost me silver. Wouldn't you say so?” Herazal’s words agreed with the Master but his eyes didn't. “As a result of him so, ahem, villainously degrading you, there must be punishment.” Tobor narrowed his eyes, worried for what the master would say next.
Reznar pointed at the sailor, “cut off four of his fingers, one for each insult the boy gave you.” The master turned and walked away. He hesitated and looked back. “Give the man a gold coin, for his trouble.” Reznar strolled out of the room. Tobor stood shocked. The room grew noisy again. Tobor heard none of it. Bradon looked at Tobor with betrayal in his eyes that cut Tobor more than any knife could, it hurt Tobor more than any fist could.
As two guards held the sailors unbroken arm onto the table, his eyes watched Tobor's. As they forced him to unclench his fist, his eyes watched Tobor's. As the butcher sword came down onto his outstretched fingers, his eyes watched Tobor's. Steel flashed silver. Then red.
Well this brings chapter 2 to a close. Hot Sand and Warm Blood is up next where Tobor comes to terms with failing Bradon again and has his first fight in the pit. Part I will come out tomorrow. Valar Morghulis!
I see what the master is doing! His punishing others for Tobor's actions as he can likely see that Tobor cares about others. So he's teaching Toborr to obey by hurting other people whenever he's disobedient. That's what I think he's doing at least.
I'm kind of interested about Tobor's thoughts about his kill. He's hesitant to admit it but he liked it. I think there's some potential there for him to go dark!
How exciting.
I really liked this part. Definitely one of my favorites. I enjoyed seeing that short glimpse of Tobor's new life.
The master's actions are a mixture between what you've just said and the fact that as a pit fighter, Tobor makes Reznar money. Reznar doesn't get money if Tobor is injured, so he punishes Bradon instead.
Tobor has been looking for power his whole life. He is a second son and his father is the fourth son of Lord Leyton Hightower so he's very far out of the line of succession. Because of this, he knows he won't get power there so he wants some elsewhere. That's why he went to join the Night's watch. That didn't work out, so he still wants power, he just found it somewhere he didn't expect, beating a man to death. This will play a part in the story to come.
Thanks! It was fun to write. I can't wait to post the next one, we learn a bit more of Tobor's back story!
Hot Sand and Warm Blood
Part 1
The weeks after the sailor's maiming passed slowly for Tobor. He was the cup bearer for the zo Merreq family, Reznar and his two daughters; Tazhyn and Mezzara. The second daughter was plump, with a head of straight black hair. Every mealtime Tobor was taken to the dining area of the zo Merreq pyramid and forced to stand still and silent as he watched the family eat meals that would make a king jealous. Soups of mushroom, pastries, pork ribs and stews that would make Tobor's mouth water. When they required wine or water Tobor would pour.
Tobor knew that Tazhyn would know what was happening with Bradon, so in the first week he tried to make eye contact with Tazhyn to let her know he wanted to talk but the girl ignored him. He gave up soon after. It appeared that Tazhyn had kept her end of the bargain to keep Tobor's language a secret. Reznar conversed openly with his daughters in Low Valyrian talking of business, family, trade and the like. He would leave Tobor in the room while haggling with slave owners for the buying and selling of slaves, oblivious to Tobor's comprehension. Reznar wasn't as clever as he thought he was.
After the meals Tobor returned to his cell to await the next serving he would have to be present for. Bradon hadn't been serving the meals since his fingers had been cut off. Tobor barely saw him, he returned to their cell late in the evening and didn't talk to Tobor. The sailor simply turned over and went to sleep. Tobor felt awful, he blamed himself and his loose tongue. Every night the same question ran through his head. Why didn't I shut my mouth?
One morning, Tazhyn knocked on his cell’s bars to wake him up. Tobor woke, bleary eyed, yawned and told her to come in. Bradon had already left. “Why ask? I am a slave.” He mused. Tazhyn shrugged, “slaves are people too, and I disagree with my father's business practices. Men aren't meant to be locked up and sold.” Tobor was quick to reply, “of course, you just live happy and rich off his ill-gotten gains.” Tazhyn looked at him oddly, “While I disagree, it is a daughter’s duty to support her father. Or is that not the custom in Westeros?” Tobor went to retort but was interrupted. “That was a rhetorical question. I didn't come here to argue, I told my father I was checking on your ribs. Which I am doing, before you get angry about that too. I also need to talk to you.”
She asked Tobor to remove his shirt and lie down. While Tobor was lying, she pressed on different parts of his chest and asked him where it hurt. There was still bruising on the skin, turned yellow and green now. But the ribs themselves had healed, she told him. Tobor sat up, and replaced his shirt. Tazhyn sat on the bed that was next to Tobor's.
“Now, I needed to ask you something.” Tazhyn said. “The slave you came here with, the one with the fingers cut off. Oh what's his name? Brandon?” Tobor corrected her. “That's it, Bradon, what happened? My father won't tell me but all the guards are talking about it.” Tobor explained the situation, the bowl and the food and how it was his fault and if he'd just done as the guard had wanted Bradon wouldn't have suffered as he did. Tazhyn put a hand on his wrist. “You can't blame yourself, Herazal has these foul moods and won't stop at anything to punish someone. Had you done as he asked he would have just beaten you anyway. Blame Herazal.” She glanced at her hand and removed it quickly.
Tobor disagreed with her, “I don't blame Herazal. I blame your father. Herazal wanted to beat me, and I would have accepted it. I wronged him, that was dishonourable of me. But your father stopped him.” He said it accusingly as if it were Tazhyn’s fault, “your father made him punish Bradon instead. I'd have swapped places with him instantly. But- but I couldn't, I was frozen. I failed him.”
All Tobor's built up emotion threatened to burst out, he took a shaky breath and calmed himself down. Tazhyn nodded awkwardly, not knowing what to say. “It wasn't against you personally,” she said softly, “you're a pit fighter, you'll make my father more silver than a server. I'm sorry Tobor.” She gazed at him with sympathetic brown eyes. Tobor thanked her, but the gratitude was empty. Tazhyn looked away.
“Do you know what Bradon is doing now? I haven't seen him outside this cell in what feels like weeks.” Tobor asked. Tazhyn replied, “the last I heard, he was still preparing the weapons for the fights and he was given a new task of cleaning the blood from the pit when the fights are over. Father said the sight of his hand turned his stomach when he served us. The guards say he doesn't sleep, just stays up the entire night watching the window.” Tobor remained silent.
Tazhyn got up to leave, “if there isn't anything else, then I'll leave you. Father will wonder why I'm taking so long. And Tobor, don't blame yourself. You say a craven blames his fate on the gods, but there are some things even the most powerful of men cannot control. The tides, when the sun rises and the actions of a mad man.” She turned around.
“Wait,” Tobor said. “I wanted to ask something of you.” Tazhyn faced him, smiling. “Is this another favour you'll ask of me?” Tobor shrugged, “I prefer to think of the last one as less a favour and more of a request.” The girl laughed, Tobor continued. “Your father is a dangerous man, but he's also clever. He knows I can make him a lot of silver.” Tazhyn laughed again, “well aren't you confident, a very confident little hero!” She chided gently.
Tobor ignored the joke. “So, if he puts me against a lion or a tiger or some other manner of beast, he's losing silver.” Tazhyn tutted, “not a very brave little hero, running away from a fight.” Tobor scoffed, “I don't run away. I'm being smart.”
“And humble,” Tazhyn added. Tobor rolled his eyes, this girl could go from being sympathetic to sarcastic in a matter of seconds. “Talk to your father, ask him to put me against a man. Suggest I might make more silver that way.” Tazhyn considered it, “very well, little hero. I will talk to my father for you. I'll suggest what you've asked. But I'll make no promises.” Tobor thanked her, “don't worry little hero, I'll try not to let you down.” With that she left Tobor alone with this thoughts, smiling through the bars as she locked his door.
Over the next few days Tazhyn visited several times, they talked of their families and their childhoods, foods they enjoyed and who's was the most annoying sibling. Tobor complained of Edwin, his youngest brother. “He'd always make up stories about how I, Mace or Kallum had stolen his things, I never understood him.” Tazhyn snorted, “is that all?” She asked, “Mezzara once cut off all my hair in my sleep, I woke up near bald!” Tobor laughed, then tried to keep a straight face in case a guard should hear.
Tazhyn giggled and shushed him. “What did you do to make her cut your hair off?” He gasped. “Nothing!” She replied, “Well, I might have frightened off a boy she liked, Azzak I think his name was. I was probably twelve and she was fourteen. Mezzara’s shy so she never talked to him, I doubt he knew who she was. Azzak was going to visit and meet Mezzara and I. So I told him that Mezzara was as fat as the pyramid and he never visited.” Tobor chuckled, “so you deserved it then?” He joked. Tazhyn tutted at him.
“I thought my brother Mace was always a prick to me.” Tobor mused. “As soon as I was old enough to hold a stick he would beat me senseless in what he called ‘training’. To this day I don't know if he wanted to make me better or if he wanted to hurt me. Maybe both. I suppose it helped, I can take a hit and I can fight. Mace always put honour above everything else. Above pride, above duty, even family. Even if he did talk shit all the time. He taught me how to be honourable. I ought to thank him one day.” Tazhyn looked sad, “I hope you will.”
Tobor grew serious. “Do you know when I will have my first fight?” He asked sombrely. Tazhyn hesitated, “I don't know.” Tobor narrowed his eyes, “what? What do you know?” He questioned. Tazhyn groaned and then came clean, “Well, when I talked to my father about you fighting he asked if your ribs were healed and I might have told him they need a few more days.” She admitted. Tobor was confused, “why were you so guilty about admitting it?”
Tazhyn stuttered, “well I-I just don't like lying to my father, but I just thought, I don't know, you might need a few more days. Just to make sure. Make sure your ribs are fine.” Tobor held in a smile. Tazhyn, red faced, excused herself quickly while muttering about her father needing to see her now. As he lay in bed that night, for the first time in weeks Tobor Hightower went to sleep smiling.
As the morning sun rose in the sky, Tobor pulled on a pair of brown leather boots, tucked his breeches into the boots and took a deep shaky breath, his bare chest rising and falling. Tobor's remaining fat had seeped away over the past weeks, leaving his torso lean and muscular, but skinny. The guards had told him to remove the linen shirt he'd been given, they had sniggered when they'd said it. They had then switched to Low Valyrian and conversed, oblivious to Tobor's understanding. “The twats only going to die in the pit, I'm saving a white shirt from turning red.” The two guards had laughed and walked out of the door, waiting for Tobor to follow.
It was the day of Tobor's first fight in the pit and he was preparing himself. The news had come the previous day, after serving Reznar his wine at the meal. Tazhyn had smiled apologetically as Reznar explained in the common tongue. He declined to tell Tobor whether he'd fight a man or beast.
The boy walked through the open door and trailed behind the two guards. The last time Tobor had felt this nervous was when he sat astride a great destrier; clad in heavy full plate armour that weighed him down. Ready to joust in the tilt for the first time. In his right hand he held a great twelve foot tourney lance and in his left a shield with a grey tower emblazoned on the front. “Stop worrying Tobor, in the moment you must strike, battle fever will take over your mind, you'll feel drunk. Time will slow for you, even stop. Everything will vanish, everything but the instant. Fear will go, you won't think. You'll simply act.” Edric had said to his young son. Tobor nodded uncertainly.
In the distance Tobor could see his brother Kallum, glinting in the morning sun at the end of the tourney ground. The brothers lowered their lances and spurred their mounts on. The rhythm of the hoof beats calmed Tobor as they galloped towards the centre of the tourney ground. All he could hear inside the stifling helmet was his own breathing. All he could see was Kallum, no, not even Kallum, just a suit of armour- a target to hit. As his brother came towards him, lance outstretched, Tobor aimed his own at his brothers shield.
All at once, Tobor felt a jerk at both arms and an impact at his breast. As Kallum’s lance smashed into and splintered on the inside edge of Tobor's shield, the stump of the lance scraped along the shield and into Tobor's breastplate. His elbow was forced back and he was lifted up into the air. The black destrier rode on, underneath Tobor's flailing legs. Tobor slammed down into the sandy ground and stared at the sky as his breath returned to him.
Kallum dismounted, laughing and ran over to Tobor. “Come on little brother, you can't hold a shield like that. You must deflect the lance strike away from your chest not into it!” Tobor groaned and swore at his brother. “Stop calling me little brother, I'm older than you, remember?” Kallum laughed again, “you're still smaller though!” He held out a hand for his brother. Tobor grudgingly accepted. Edric clapped in the distance and turned to leave. “I didn't do well, why is he clapping?” Tobor muttered to Kallum. His brother shook his head, “you managed to hit me at least, you broke a lance. That's not a bad start little brother. Did father ever tell you about his first joust? Very well, I'll tell you. He was likely around the same age as you. Father was mounted up ready, he was matched with Uncle Aldin in the Tourney at Ashemark. Then he kicked his horse to begin and the horse-”
Tobor interrupted. “I thought father married mother well after he was my age, how did he know Aldin?” Kallum punched him in the shoulder, half a joke. “I'm telling the story aren't I?” He continued. “Father’s horse reared and almost unseated him but he clung on. As they galloped towards each other Aldin saw that Father was nearly unseated and raised his lance up honourably to signal a draw. Father did the same. Father then dismounted and challenged Aldin to a duel to determine the match, he'd decided he hated jousting.” Tobor laughed and Kallum resumed speaking.
“A vicious battle was fought but Father proved the victor, the Lord of Ashemark was so impressed he offered Father the hand of his second daughter, Fraya Marbrand, when Father came of age. So father’s first joust was much worse than yours, his opponent had to let him pass unscathed just so he could stay on his horse.” Tobor giggled, “just imagine him holding on for his life!” Kallum laughed with him, “don't tell father I told you any of this, he does love it so to appear stoic and brave!” The brothers had laughed as they walked towards the tents.
Tobor smiled nostalgically as he remembered the moment. He wanted to see his family so badly. The guards led him through a narrow passageway with a low ceiling and sandy floor, the tunnel wound under what Tobor assumed was the pyramid. They walked for a few minutes then the ground began to lean uphill, Tobor's heart suddenly beat more and more rapidly, pounding against his ribs, he knew he was almost there. They came to a heavy metal door. One guard began fiddling with a set of keys while the other turned to Tobor. “On the other side of that door is a short tunnel where you'll find your choice of weapons, at the end of the tunnel is the door to the arena. Go through there and fight.” He explained, not unkindly. Tobor thanked him as the door swung open. Tobor swallowed, took a deep breath and walked in. The passage was dimly lit with torches that were flickering on the walls. The door slammed behind him.
He came to a table, set upon it were a small array of weapons. There was everything from a trident to a broadsword to a metal gauntlet with evil looking spikes protruding from it. Tobor knew he wouldn't be strong enough to wield any of the hammers, or great-axes. He didn't have the skill and training for spears or tridents and daggers and the gauntlet would be too short for this fight. Of course, Tobor knew the type of weapon he needed depended entirely on his opponent and what approach he would take, what strategy he would employ. The battle is won with the mind as it is with the sword, he remembered.
[Tire out opponent] [Beat down opponent with force]
Tobor settled on choosing between a hand-and-a-half bastard sword, a dothraki Arakh, a four foot long wooden staff with the blade of a short sword on the end and pair of short axes. The sword was Tobor's favoured weapon, having trained with it. However, the element of surprise could be his if he used an Arakh, which was adept at slashing and cutting or the sword staff, which would give him reach, nobody would expect a small Westerosi boy to use such weapons.
[Bastard Sword] [Sword Staff] [Arakh]
[Tire out opponent] It's the smart approach and Tobor did just think that the battle is won with the mind. However I would pick force if I knew Tobor would pick the staff.
[Bastard sword] It's safer to stick to what you're good at.
Tazhyn is very quickly growing on me. I really like her! I'll be really disappointed if she turns out to be a snake.
[Bastard sword]
I played assassins creed.It is a very cool and He is also good at it
[Tire out opponent]
Could be the smartest choice
[Bastard Sword]
[Tire out opponent]
it's better to tire out the opponent since he's still young and skinny at that .
The thing about pit fighting is, fighters never have armour. The crowd have come to see blood so the masters don't give slaves armour
[Tire out opponent]
[Arakh]
[Tire out opponent] that is the smarter choice considerring his physique.[Arakh] with this he can go in with fast attacks to tire the opponent even more.
oh sry about that i had that scene with jorah back in the meerenn arena ^^ , my bad
Just as I feared I might have missed a voting after being very busy yesterday, thankfully there is none here. There couldn't have been a better time for a part without a vote
But oh, poor Bradon. I feel like he might end up blaming Tobor for this, even if it isn't really his fault. Fucking Reznar though, that is one hell to make a bad first impression. It really makes me nervous that Tobor is a prisoner of this man. Even if he himself is looked after, I think this will only remain as long as he is useful in combat. The moment he loses, his live will be in serious danger and not just because, well, he loses a fight.