Dreamland

The transformation from a lonesome adventurer to a father with two teenage girls plus a beautiful wife with a dark secret in the middle of a hostile slaver caravan made Geral take the reins with a shaking hand and gulp with difficulty.

“Go inside to your mother!” - he told the two girls who watched him uneasily.

Awa hesitated. Should she say 'yes, father'? She only nodded and entered the carriage behind Noviel.

A hand drew the curtains behind Geral. He shook the reins to make the horses keep pace with the train. He tried to ignore the hostile glances from both parts, from the new slaves and from the slavers. They all thought of him as a traitor. They all hated him. Some because he didn't share their fate, the others because he was the impediment that stopped them from taking three slaves. Not any slaves, but probably the most beautiful and expensive, but the cutuza didn't want to be the one who broke a promise to a silver allowance. That would be dangerous and could be used against him. Too many people have learned about the allowance, and one does not break the empire's promises without consequences.

Geral sighed. If the cutuza could show that he had lied, he could not expect clemency. He would be enslaved immediately. Would it have been better to try to escape? Or just let the girls to their devices and try to save them later?

Save them later? With all the slavers around? Once they had disappeared inside the empire, any chance of finding them would be nil.

Did it really matter? He had known them only for a couple of days; what was so important that he had risked his life for them?

But on the other side, he was feeling good and excited.

He reviewed the scene in his head, trying to think what would have been the best course of action. Deep in his thoughts, he realized with surprise that they had joined another caravan.

He looked around. It was a caravan that comprised about one hundred slaves and another twenty to thirty slavers with some twenty carriages and many horsemen between them. Where were they headed?

As he looked around, he saw the cutuza coming his way with several slavers and a person who seemed to be a high mage.

At his sight, the cutuza yelled with a grin:

“Geral Shatterbock!”

Geral sighed.

"Oh fuck!"

The moment of truth has arrived.

“Honored Cutuza!” - he said, nodding to the captain.

The cutuza stopped in front of the carriage with the mage beside him. Left and right slavers aligned themselves on both sides of the carriage.

“Is there something?” - asked Geral eyeing the captain

“Just a formality. High mage Douhran would like to ask you a couple of questions.”

“High mage” - Geral bowed his head.

The mage answered his bow and smiled. An arrogant, cocky smile.

“Adventurer Shatterbock, I am going to ask some questions. Please answer as short as possible, preferably with yes or no. Is this clear?”

Geral was tempted to answer with a long diatribe, but in the end, he complied. What a pity that he did not have twenty or thirty levels more. That would make things a lot more fun.

“Yes”

The mage grinned, satisfied.

“Are you married?”

“Yes.”

Geral nodded and saw how the mage looked at one of his rings again. Without raising his eyes from the ring, he asked the next question.

“Is your wife inside the carriage?”

“Yes” - he nodded again and was surprised to see how the mage nodded at his turn. Whatever Anabella had done seemed to have worked. Or maybe it was just that he was convinced that they were married?

“Are there two girls inside the carriage?”

“Well, there are three” - he started to explain, and the mage raised his eyes and watched him askew.

“I mean, yes, there is my wife and two girls.”

The mage nodded.

“Are those girls your daughters?”

“Well, they are my daughters...”

“There is something false in the statement!” - the mage said, interrupting him.

He started to sweat visibly. Was Anabella not ready with what she was doing for the girls?

“They are my wife's daughters and thus my daughters!” - he spat that statement as fast as he could, trying to look as confident as he could.

“Bring the girls out!” - one of the slavers said.

“Not needed!” - the mage shook his head, and Geral almost had an infarct but what the mage said next eased him - “this statement was completely true. This man had told the truth.”

Geral took a deep breath, almost not believing it. Was it something that Anabella had done, or was it the way he had said it? Or maybe the spell does not work well on players? The cutuza spat and turned away without saying a word. The mage bowed his head slightly before leaving.

“Adventurer”

“High mage”, - Geral answered, nodding at his turn

One slaver approached him.

“You can search for a place to set up camp. We will stay here for half an hour, and then the train leaves; you should be ready and take your position in the train when you hear the horn.”

He nodded and watched how the slavers dispersed. He wanted to shake the reins and saw how bad his hands trembled. Damn! He took a deep breath concentrating, then looked again. The trembling had stopped. He shook the reins and moved the carriage to the side, then gave the horses some food and went inside the carriage. There was no trace of what had happened there, just a bowl with something that looked like dark blood inside and several bloodied wraps and three girls looking intensively at him.

“Is it over?” - asked Awa

He nodded.

“There was a mage with a truth spell, and we passed...”

Anabella pulled him to her as if she would want to hug him, stopping him from further saying anything, and showed him a small bit of parchment:

'spell spying' was written on it, and she made a gesture with the hand around.

At first, he did not understand the meaning of the two words' message, but then he nodded. So they were being spied upon. He breathed out:

“The train has half an hour break, then we'll start moving again.”

“Do we have to go with them?” - asked Noviel.

He hesitated, unsure how to answer, knowing they were being spied on. He shrugged.

“I guess the cutuza would not like to see us going away; the train is moving through enemy territory. We should keep our place in the train; by tomorrow, it should be over.”

“OK...” - answered Noviel nodding unhappily.

“I'll go to pick up some wood for the fire; maybe later, we do not stop near a forest.”

“OK.” - answered Anabella, then added - “Don't go too far.”

He left wondering why she'd said that. Was she role-playing the beloved wife? He saw there were more people that had the same idea and were already returning with some branches, so he would have to look a bit further to find good dry wood.

After a while, he had to stop. His head had started to pain. He never had a headache; was he now starting to have some? He walked further and felt the pricking on his skin. What was happening? He opened the shirt and found his wounds had reopened. The runes that Anabella had carved on his skin were now bleeding. Not much, just a little, but it was uncomfortable and will spoil his shirt. As he walked further, the headache grew.

He stopped suddenly. Was this why she had told him to not get too far away? Maybe he should return towards the caravan. As he turned, he realized that he had deviated a little from the way. He knew exactly where Anabella and the girls were. He started walking in that direction, and the headache slowly faded. He looked under his shirt. The runes were no longer visible, but the shirt was still tainted with blood.

“Oh fuck, what does this mean?”