Please note that I am a dyslexic, I ask that you do not critique me on my punctuation, or spelling. I know full well I am not good at it, and telling me so will not help me improve as it is a learning disability. I love reviews on content as is pertains to characters, description and the overall piece though- Thanks! ~Shady~
Also note this is NOT a full chapter, this is merely a small tidbit of a much larger work.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The gladiatorial scout Septimus Garnerus strode though the seaside city of Yarl's busy slave markets- he was on a mission.
This year he has been hired by the famous gladiatorial trainer Morho to scout out some promising youths for the training.
Septimus was determined to find at least nine boys for the great trainer. He knew his whole career hinged on pleasing that temperamental man. Morho was one of the- if not most respected and feared trainer in all of the north- he was a man with connections, connections that Septimus could benefit from. Pleasing him could be the make or break of Spetimus's lucrative business.
He walked right past the main market, it was too busy and loud for a man of his refined tastes, he wanted peace in which to shop, besides the smell from the shipyards was almost overpowering especially coupled with that from the slaves themselves. Septimus held a delicate sleeve over his nose, he wanted the smaller privately run markets. Those run by the traders themselves. He picked his way down the labyrinth of narrow roads built between the piled of ship crates, small selling houses, and the stables for the goods.
The twin suns, Pyros and Helia beat down on the seaport market, one with red and the other with white unrelenting savagery that caused the very air to dance and waver about. Septimus cursed he hated Yarl, he hated everything about this dirty little stain on the map. Hot as Hades in winter, and was the very pits of hell in summer- which it was. He mopped his already damp sleeve across his dripping forehead and coughed in the thick air.
He then past the smaller market selling women from almost every land, and for every use. Septimus walked right on not stopping, though he did take a few long sideways glances. He refused to get distracted, he had business to attend to. He payed no attention to the men selling slaves for field, home, or shop. He even ignored the yard where some traders were advertising gladiators already for the arenas.
Septimus knew one thing about Morho, and that thing was this; Morho liked to start from the ground up with his trainees. He liked to start with fresh, raw untapped talent. He would never be satisfied with a slave who thought he knew the basics of gladiatorial fighting. Septimus was no fool, he would never offend Morho with such sub par goods.
Septimus also knew the best places to find the kind of slaves he was after was further down the wharf, closer to the old quarter of the city. That was where the smaller lesser known markets were. Where the slaves would have only been unloaded a day or even hours before, from the ships that brought them or dragged from caravans that walked them hither. Septimus and his escort of six men- all his own personal slaves who knew their masters business, made their way to these markets, where the traders hawked their own wares and didn't trust the towns callers for hire.
The market that Septimus went to first was one that he had never seen before, they were obviously from one of the caravans that camped without the city limits, and their strange dress and looks bespoke of the far southern deserts and hill lands. Septimus approached the entrance. These small markets looked very much like walled in courtyards, the slaves either being free to mill about or the more spirited chained to the hundreds of iron rings set into the yellow stone walls.
The master of these traders spotted Sepimus's approach even before the latter had fully made up his mind whether he would take a look.
“Ah my good sir!” The trading master called with a grin that would have sent chills down an honest mans spine. He had seen the small spark of interest in Septimus's eye and like an adder struck without chancing losing that chance. “Would you like a closer look?” he said making a deep obeisance, touching his forelock in a graceful manner that almost surprised Septimus- the man had the manners of a courtier, not a trader of human chattels.
“I am a gladiatorial training scout.” Septimus said squaring his shoulders and speaking bluntly, he hoped if he said outright what he wanted the oily snake before him wouldn't bother him with his speeches. “ I am interested in any youths you may have in your yard- I have none in any others.”
The other his swarthy, avian like face lit up in understanding.
“Oh I see,” He said nodding in grave attention, “Well you are in luck good sir. I have many a fine youth admits those in my yard. Many amid the ranks of the strong slaves for field work or the lovely and charming women for-” Septimus held up a hand.
“I am only interested in the youths.” He held back the impulse to roll his eyes. This man even after tried to wheedle into his hawking speech! The trader made another deep obeisance and smiled as warmly as a crocodile.
“Of course my good sir, come I will show you. There are many youths in my yard, both strong and well built.” He held out his hand towards the low door motioning for Septimus to enter, which he did so. Once inside he looked about the yard and nodded slightly in approval- these slaves were in better condition than many of the others further up the market, they had not been ripped from their homes long before this....
....
Gender:
Points: 1717
Reviews: 42