As a demi-god, you can end up filling three roles in life. An entertainer, for a wealthy family or a King, A servant of the house......... or Mors Gravis.
Mors Gravis.
The worst place, you could be sold into, as a demi-god. It's a tournament where, demigods, who are on death row, fight to the death, until, they eventually die.
You earn no money and no prizes. You may earn enough fortune, to where the people of Arabiya might remember, where your grave was placed when you die. If you're too strong, and live too long, by winter, you're slaughtered like a pig.
Seldom you end up in Mors Gravis if you're a criminal. Majority of the time, the demigods sent to Mors Gravis are innocent because Mors Gravis is mostly built to entertain humans.
Wherever you end up, you're sold by a Duenio, whose job is to use captured, demigods, to catch and enslave demis. If you're unlucky and get captured. You're shown from country to country until your sold. I had never had to endure this though, I have just heard stories.
Unfortunately, I bypassed this faith they call hell and became the princess of this barbaric land.
I quickly awakened from my daydream, when particles of sand splashed into my eyes. I came back into existence, as my body guard Ciaran, looked at me with ruby red eyes.
"Are you spacing out again?" Ciaran my royal bodyguard said, grinning at me.
He stood out like a sore thumb with his handsome chiseled features and white skin. He was not a native of this land, as he was originally a Celtic who fought in Mors Gravis.
Demigods are brought, in from different countries far and wide to fight in Mors Gravis. Ciaran stood out, because he was, the most powerful man in the tournament, as well as the most, trustworthy, and honorable. He lived so long he was going to be slaughtered by winter, however, he caught the eyes of the king, who made him general of the army and my bodyguard.
I must have been, staring at Ciaran's face too long as he seemed, even more, worried for me.
"What's wrong princess, Mablevi? Are you sick? Man I knew I shouldn't have snuck you out of the palace......" He said swinging his head back and right
I looked down, at my white clock and looked at his black cloak. I remember begging him to sneak me out, because, I begged for some fresh air. The truth is I wanted to go to the slave market.
As a princess of Arabiya, am only a public figure, but the least I can do is come here, and learn the faces of the ones that could possibly be sent to die.
Ciaran says I fantasize about a life that isn't mine as if I am punishing myself, for having a more blessed life then them.
I feel he might be right.
As, sand sweeped into our sandals, the sun started to come down. On our way we passed by the slave market. I couldn't help but look at the slaves. My heart sunk to the pits of my chest, viewing such a disgusting sight.
They were all, arranged in a line, under a straw hut. They were barely clothed, bodies covered in scars from lashings. Many were male, short, tall, skinny, white, tan or dark you name it. All covered in gold chains called, God chains, that renders us demigods useless.he rule is the more God chains, you have the stronger you are.
The Duenio's face was completely covered by the hood of his cloak, to keep the sand out of his eyes. He was busy, double-checking the slaves, eyes, teeth, health and any devastating wounds.
My eyes landed on a man I could not keep my eyes off of. I don't know what it was about him. But his presence captivated me, I felt my body stiffen and my eyes locked onto his
His eyes bold and almond-shaped, looked dead and expressionless, but he was devilishly beautiful, a sight for sour eyes .
Standing at, 6' 3", he was heavily tanned, but not dark skinned. He had dark brown hair that came down to his neck, he had thick eyebrows, a broad pointy nose, and full lips.
He had warrior tattoos, from his chest down to his abdomen, of what appeared to be abstract geometrical, shapes I have never seen before. His beautiful tattoos were obstructed because of the deep raised welts and scars that covered his body.
Ever inch of him was covered in God chains, not one place was left uncovered.
I was racking my brain, for his origins...looking deeper into his eyes.....he can't be Celtic, like Ciaran, because of his skin tone.......His too well built, and large to be an Egyptian warrior................and he is certainly not African.....
"Don't look into his eyes" Ciaran gently whispered into my ear. I jolted from shock, whoops was I staring that long?
"His, got the eyes of a psychotic madman......." Ciaran said
"Princess, let's leave now" Ciaran demanded. I lightly hushed Ciaran. A short man, half balded, appeared. He wore a sort of blue dress, with a brown belt that hung in the middle. He appeared, to be an Englishman, that has travelled long ways.
"That big fella you got there, think he can win me some matches?" The little men inquired
The Duenio smiled, so wide, you would think he was in pain. "Certainly my good man." The Duenio stood next to the large tan man, and smacked his back.
"This right here is a living breath Aztec warrior...the genuine thing...Bloodthirsty creatures, that wouldn't hesitate to sacrifice their own kin.
"This would be perfect in for 'battle" My god sir"
The Duenio twiddled his fingers. "His "daddy" is the Aztec god of death, so you can see, that is quite a parent with a reputation!"
The customer looked uninterested and yawned, shrugging his shoulders nearly eyeing the other slaves.
"Yeah yeah yeah, I hear flashy stories all the time. What can it do?" The customer said, nearly shoving his dollars back into his pocket
The Duenio stood up straight and cleared his throat as if he was giving a presentation.
"He wields, a spiked wooden club, made with a number of blades called obsidian, said to be even sharper than steel. A weapon so utterly gruesome, stories from Spanish soldiers account for the weapon leaving a horses's head dangling"
The customer started tuning in. "Go on"
"Well you see, the boy is special. His spikes are made from obsidian, from the underworld. If the spikes graze your body, your skin will decay."
The two men were rambling on and on, but that's not the point. This is absolutely disgusting......not once did they address the man by name, I felt the crease of my head crunch and my lips bleed from me chomping into them.
He deserves to be treated with basic respect, the conditions the slaves are living in is downright, degrading! I can blow the entire straw hut away, and free every last one of them, but that is always my thoughts when I come down here.
If I make even, one peep or sound, the higher ups, will take my discontent as going against the law, and kill every last one of them. It has happened before, and I still can't shake the trauma.
"Princess, we have seen enough, now let's get going..........." Ciaran, tried to, get in behind me, so I would stop staring at that man
"But that......that man......" I said, feeling heartbroken.
"His trouble, Mablevi trust me........I
"I briefly recall fighting a man who looks like that. Nearly, disemboweled me.......If I am getting the man right........he was resold and cycled through masters, due to being such a nightmare and a womanizer"
"I am quite thankful..... because I would have been dead.......now what did his master name him? .......Benedict Maygield?......Brandon......Barret......."
"Benjamin Delanor Hayfield" We instinctively turned around, to the Duenio saying his name to the customer.
The Duenio tried to keep his composure while smiling. "You know the rules, my good man, the chains remain on. I have less dangerous slaves that do phenomenal demonstrations without their chains."
Wait.........is the Duenio, going to allow this Benjamin fellow, to kill a random civilian, just to demonstrate his power?.......I can not allow this........
The Duenio, looked around until his eyes, meet mine. "Now let's see, who will be our demonstration"
53Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡA9iPpNqvs8
53Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQUKZ9dVYHQ
and then Add to home screen.