In the dark flickering light of the campfire, Raki's eyes widened, and his breath shallowed. S… Slavery? If every mother and father on the continent feared that their untimely death would bring their daughters to the doors of the organization, then they also feared their son's demise as a slave in the northern lands. Fear gripped Raki's heart as tightly as the ropes gripped his wrists. Slavery. He had heard stories as a child, stories of orphan boys plucked off of the streets by slave traders, rushed to the northern coal mines, and worked to death. Slavery?! There was no worse fate on the continent. At least, if he were a girl, he would have some chance to live as a claymore. But… slavery meant endless cold night's deep underground, losing fingers and toes to the depthless cold. It meant watching others get crushed by cave-ins, while you narrowly escaped yourself. It meant choking on ash while your friends coughed out thin trails of black vomit. It meant endless hunger with no reprieve from the pain. It meant a cold, lonely death.

Raki jerked his head out of the man's grip. No! He wanted to yell, No! I can't go there! I can't go to the north! Seeing his reaction, the leader of the bandits laughed

"Scared are we? Oh, don't worry," he spoke with kindness "You're in excellent physical condition, so you'll last about a year!" He threw back his head and laughed. Raki forced down the bile that rose in his throat and examined the man in front of him. He was tall, and thin, and very handsome. He had long blond hair which was pulled back into a low ponytail. His face was thin and oval and his skin completely devoid of any sort of blemish. Raki thought this was somewhat strange for a bandit. His eyes, which were blue, danced merrily with the crazed joy of a murderer. The men around him laughed hesitantly along with their leader.

"Eh… boss…" The violent bandit holding Raki's rope shuffled his feet uncomfortably "What do we need to get into the slave market for? I mean, we're doin' pretty good with just the normal stuff. Lootin' and killin' I mean." The boss shook his head like a parent whose child had just asked a ridiculous, but amusing question.

"All of you! Picture this:" The thin man gestured wildly with his hands "imagine if instead of killing all the young boys in the towns we rob, we sell them for over fifty beras each. Sometimes more!" All around the camp, eyes boggled as this apparently genius revelation. The boss beamed at his dumbstruck followers in the low fire light.

Horrified, Raki stared wide eyed at the exalted greedy expressions that appeared on each of the bandits faces.

"That's genius boss!" Someone called out.

"Isn't it! Although," the boss admitted with a pout, "the idea wasn't completely mine alone... Kero suggested it to me and we worked out the kinks together."

All eyes turned to the shorter wiry man standing behind the boss. Kero… somehow I feel like I've heard that name before.

"All right Kero!" some of the men cheered, clapping the silhouetted figure on the back. Raki squinted, trying to make out his face. "Hey! How'd ya come up with such a great idea Kero?"

The man turned to glare at the back-clappers. "My father happened to be slave trader!" he snarled "I've told you all this!" The bandits stared at him blankly. "Forget it!" Kero snapped. I…definitely recognize that voice from somewhere… Wait! Kero! That was the guy who I met at the first town! He was the jerk who wanted to kill me or whatever! Could this guy be him?! Raki got his answer moments later when Kero stepped forward into the light next to the boss. Yes, it was him. He had cruel eyes, a fast smirk, and wide mouth which reminded Raki of a snake eating a rat. Raki's eyes narrowed and he hissed through his gag.

Kero stared down at Raki with a disgustingly satisfied look on his face. Apparently, he remembered Raki as well. Kero scoffed briefly at Raki, and then turned his attention back to his companions. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut short by a pair of men bursting into camp. Unperturbed, the boss and Kero looked to the commotion.

"Oh." The bandit leader said smiling, "Mevin. Sander. Did you finish your scouting mission?"

They didn't hear him. The two men were altogether too busy fighting over the last scraps of the bandit's meal. "Hey." The leader's face darkened. "I said, did you finish your scouting mission?" When no reply came, Raki watched with dark fascination as the leader withdrew two broad knives from within the folds of his cloak. In a dangerous whisper he said "did you finish your scouting mission?" Both men froze.

"Ah... Y-yes, Boss!"

"Well?" He growled dangerously, his handsome face suddenly fearsome. "What did you find?"

"A- it's a pretty good-un' Boss! They seem to have some money anyway."

"Is that so?" His knives disappeared as easily as they had appeared and he asked pleasantly, "Were there any young boys in the town?"

"Huh? Well, yeah, there were, I guess." One of the scouts scratched his head in a confused sort of way, and Raki recalled that the pair had not been present for the leader's speech on slavery.

The boss beamed at his men, exposing two even rows of perfect white teeth. "It's settled then! Rest up tonight boys, because tomorrow… we have work to do!" The bandits cheered wildly, and Raki gulped. He had a pretty fair idea as to what "work" included.

Raki waited until nearly everyone was asleep. One sentry at each campfire remained awake, but they were drowsy and faced away from the campfire. All night he'd carefully observed and listened, so he knew that the sentry's shifts were almost over; His constant scissoring at the gag with his teeth had finally paid off. Although it wasn't broken, Raki had inadvertedly loosened the knot, so he easily spit it out. He lay far away from the bandits, on his side, facing the campfire. His knees were drawn up to his chest in an awkward position. If anyone noticed, they would merely think he was trying to keep warm, or that was what Raki hoped anyway. His hands still tied, Raki held the rope tied to his leg between his knees. He chewed relentlessly at a particularly frayed part of the rope until it broke with a soft snap. Sighing, Raki allowed himself to rest briefly. It was too dark to see clearly, but the same hot, thick substance which covered the ends of the broken rope leaked from his raw lips and dribbled silently down the corners of his mouth. His mouth tasted of iron.

Raki counted to 30. At the 34th second, the sentry closest to him got up from his post to wake his replacement. In that moment of distraction, Raki stood up silently, and ran into the night, running hard and fast over the treacherous landscape. He didn't get 15 yards before a hand grabbed his shirt and yanked him backwards.

"Augh!" Raki landed hard on his back. A dark figure stood over him. For a moment there was silence as the two stared at each other. Then the figure stooped down and dragged Raki to his feet by the collar of his shirt.

"Well now!" the leader of the bandits pressed a glistening knife to Raki's throat. "That was a surprise! To think you'd go so far as to chew through your ropes… Although, I can see your hands are still bound. Were you going to abandon your sword and other possessions in favor of a silent getaway? Hmm?" He grinned at Raki as if expecting an answer. Rather than giving him one, Raki spit out a wad of his own blood and bared his bloody teeth defiantly. "Oh, what a face!" The man laughed jovially and pressed the knife closer, eliciting a small bit of blood.

"Come now, back to camp, let's go!" He dragged Raki back to the dying campfire, the knife pressed firmly to his throat the entire way. As they approached, both sentries stood up from their positions.

"Who goes there?!" the closest man called out. "Show yourself!"

"Relax. It's just me." The leader pulled Raki into the circle of dying firelight.

"Oh! Boss! Forgive me, I couldn't see you properly. Eh… why do you have the brat?"

He threw Raki unceremoniously at the man's feet. "I just caught a little mouse trying to escape the cat's claws. If the mouse so much as breathes without your awareness, I'm holding you personally responsible."

"Y-yes sir!" Raki drew himself to his knees and silently watched the leader walk away. He turned to the sentry, who looked down at him dubiously. "Jeez." The man said, "just what did ya do?" Raki stared at the ground and didn't answer. "Ignoring me eh? Well, whatever. It's not like I blame you. I wouldn't want to talk to me 'neither if I was being sold into slavery." Raki wiped the blood away from his raw lips.

Slowly, Raki stretched himself onto his stomach. His plan had failed. He felt the sentry's eyes on him, and knew that the chance for escape had passed, at least for the night. So he slept.

As dawn broke the next day, Raki lifted his head to find that most of the bandits were already awake and moving. Raki sat up stiffly, his whole body aching. His head trobbed, his bruised jaw pulsed, dried blood caked the outside of his mouth and cracked painfully when he moved.

"Maaan." He rose to his feet shakily and rolled his shoulders in an attempt to get blood flowing to his restrained hands. A large hand clapped on his shoulder, and Raki turned around warily.

"Hey, kid." Raki recognized the sentry who had spoken to him last night. "This is for you." He shoved what looked like a bit of food at Raki, who stood there angrily. "Come on, take it!"

"My hands are tied."

"Oh yeah. I forgot. Here you go." The man slipped behind Raki and cut away his bonds. Raki brought his hands around and rolled his wrists painfully. "Well, here ya are. He handed him some stale bread, which Raki sniffed uncertainly before eating it.

"Hey Derren!" Across the camp, a man holding the reigns to a horse beckoned the sentry over.

"Eh?" The sentry turned away, "What is it? You kn-" With sentry's back to him, Raki made a run for it. "H-hey! Stop him!" A hand grabbed his wrist, another grasped his shirt, but he kept struggling. Finally, a third hand snatched a fistful of his hair, and he was pulled to the ground. The hand pulling his hair shoved his face into the dirt, and a multitude of others held his squirming body down. Suddenly, the hand holding his head let go, and he looked up just in time to see a fast moving object swing towards his head. There was a large crack, and the world faded from view.

"Whew." The man holding a club reached down and shook the unconscious boy, who remained unconscious. Grabbing a limp wrist, he looked up and asked "Boss, this boy sure is a lot of trouble. Can't we just kill him and be done with it?"

"Nonsense!" Kero said. "We're not even a week's walk from the slave town; we can watch him until then."

"Tie him up," The leader said. "and… Derren. Secure him to Conor's old horse, and then lead the mare with yours. Got it?"

"S-sure."

"Everyone! Ready your weapons and mount your horses! The town the scouts picked out for attack is a mere 5 minutes away! Let's hope they appreciated their last sunrise!" The men cheered at their leader's encouragement and each mounted their respective horses. Derren took a bit longer than the others, as he had to carry Raki's body to Conor's horse and then tie him to the saddle. With a grunt, he tied another bit of rope to the horse's reigns to act as a lead, which he tied to his own horse. Finally, they were off.

At the start of the run, the horse jostled Raki back into consciousness. He cracked open his eyes just in time to pass a dark, silent, and very dead figure lying in the middle of the roadway. Conor…? He turned around slightly, and watched in a confused sort of way as the figure quickly grew smaller. "Ugh." His head felt like it was splitting open from the sides, and he unconsciously moved his hands up to grip his temples. Which made him notice that they were bound again. At least they're tied in front me this time. Upon further inspection, he found that his waist was looped with similar rope and tied to an underside section of the saddle. That'll be difficult to untie. Forcing himself to ignore the pounding in his head, he sat up woozily and looked around. What happened? All I remember is trying to escape and then… I woke up… on this horse. And… that was Conor's body a moment ago wasn't it? He's dead. Gritting his teeth, Raki looked behind him, but the corpse was already out of sight. Looking ahead, he saw that he was riding a black mare which was tied to Derren's horse. He sat at the back of the galloping group of bandits, and Raki could see that they were fast approaching the town he had seen before.

Burying his head in his bound hands, he cursed himself over and over for failing to escape last night. He had planned on going to the village to warn them, and his failure had cost them their lives. Why?! They don't deserve to die! Whether or not it was deserved didn't matter, for the end came anyway.

The bandits burst into the town in a flurry of war cries and surprised shouts from the villagers. For an expanded, horrifying moment, Raki watched the leader of the bandits pull ahead and draw two knives. He reached expertly down from his saddle and slashed the throat of an elderly man holding the hand of a little boy. The man fell, almost in slow motion, a permantly surprised expression etched into his face. Chaos erupted in an instant. The bandits yelled wildly and dealt death blows from the saddle. Villagers fled sporadically under the hooves of trampling horses. Raki sat paralyzed as the scene of death unfolded. Look away! Look away! He could not. A woman barely saved her child from being severed by a blow from Sander. He spun his horse around and slashed a blow across her front. She fell to the ground screaming and clutching her bloody face. A man rushed out of a house holding a pitchfork and was shot in the throat with a cross bow. A child screamed in pain. The scream sparked Raki's frozen limbs into action; he frantically fumbled at the knot on his waist.

Raki looked up, eyes wild. Sander had the bloody woman pinned to the ground. Her child, a little girl, was dead. Bandit's whom Raki didn't know the names of cackled as blood flew from the bodies of men, women, and children. Nearby, Derren hefted his spear at a wailing child standing over the corpse of a man. "No!" Finally free, Raki leapt from the horse and sprinted to where the child stood. He reached the toddler just before Derren did. Pulling her away, Raki fell to the ground clutching the child to his chest. Derren's spear landed where the child had stood. The bandit snatched it up, giving Raki a strange look before riding back into the fray. Raki spun the girl around to look at him.

"Run away!" he said, "hurry and find a place to hide where they won't find you!"

The child sniffed and stared at Raki with wide eyes. "M-m-my Papa…" Raki glanced at the body she had been standing over.

"Your Papa's gone!" He said harshly. The child wailed.

"Shush! Do you know a place to hide where they won't find you?" As a child, Raki recalled whole days spent playing hide-and-go-seek with the other children. They had been experts at finding places to hide then. Sobbing, she nodded. "Hurry! Go to it and stay there until they've gone!" He pushed the girl to his feet and she ran off. God of Rabona, please let this girl find a safe place to hide! Relief flooded through him as she disappeared among the houses.

Raki looked around, his whole body shaking with adrenaline. Across the way, he saw Kero raise his sword and strike a young woman clutching a newborn to her chest, blood erupted from her neck, and she fell with scarcely a sound. Raki keeled over on his hands and knees and vomited. All around him, blood soaked into the cobble stones as easily as rain. Bodies and body parts lay tore up across the streets. Female shrieks echoed through the buildings as the bandits took what they wanted.

Raki shakily rose to his feet, only to crumple to his knees. He buried his head in his hands and sobbed. Any thought he had about escaping in the chaos no longer existed. Something had broken. Raki hid his face from the world and refused to look up, even when cold blood soaked into his clothes and the woman's shrieks were replaced by howls of pain that lasted just a moment. All at once, the town was silent. His broken heart couldn't stand it. The lone boy surrounded by a sea of blood covered his ears with his hands and howled, eyes squeezed shut.

What's your name?

You don't need to know. You'll forget it soon anyway.

The rope squeezing his neck was uncomfortable. Thirteen other boys had been salvaged from the carnage. They all had ropes tied around their necks and all had bound hands. The ropes around the marching prisoner's necks converged into one long line, which the bandits led them by. Forced to go single file, they stumbled across the terrain silently. It had been like this for two days. The bandits led them north, and the climate grew colder and colder.

With a harsh tug on the rope, the boys stumbled forward and were ushered on faster.

"We'll probably reach the town tomorrow or the next day." One of the bandits speculated absently.

"I sure hope so. All this babysittin' is starting to affect my mental health." Mental health?! Raki's eyes darted to the man who had spoken. Before he had witnessed that, he had never known true hatred. Of course, he had disliked some people, he had even thought that he hated them; but he didn't, not really. The feeling that now possessed his soul, body, and mind, burned deep and cold within his body, it was true hatred. He hated them, he wanted to kill them, every single one. The handsome boss with his cool attitude. Kero with his fast smirk. The scouts Mevin and Sander. The man with the rope, Marcus. The kind faced one who gave them bread. Derren. All of the nameless subordinates. He wanted them dead.

A cold breeze blew into their faces. He could smell snow. A couple of miles later, the landscape began to change. Bits of snowdrift littered the roadway. Carefully, they maneuvered around the traps. Soon enough, the drifts became too numerous to avoid, until the entire ground was covered in snow. Raki shivered. Unlike the bandits around them, Raki and the town boys were not dressed for the cold. Some of the boys had been, but their coats and hats had been taken away as easily as their families had been murdered. More or less, they all wore thin over-shirts and thinner trousers. Raki had boots. Some of the others weren't so lucky. The boy in front of Raki, he couldn't be older than eight, stumbled and fell to his knees. Quickly, Raki helped him up.

The boy turned and looked at him with big, wide eyes. Looking at him, Raki's heart nearly broke all over again. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words refused to come. What would he say? "Don't worry, it will all be okay soon?", "It's okay, someone will come to help us?" Whatever he said, it would be a lie, and he couldn't do that to the boy, he couldn't give him false hope. The child sniffed and turned to keep walking.

I'm so cold.