Chapter One Hundred Twenty Four

Joe felt along his collar with some wonder when he felt the ball disappear into the collar, then blinked in wonder that he was able to touch his collar before wincing and crumbling to the floor as pain shot through even as his mind blanked. It didn't last long, and Joe sat back up and grimaced. Right… don't think about it… man... He reverted to his old trick, thinking of an itch on his neck, then reached up and scratched in and around his neck, reaching around and all over the collar. He made sure to remove his hand to his side before sighing and thinking about what he'd just done.

But, it really didn't matter. Even before his hand dropped, he knew nothing had changed, and turning his intellect to it added little. It felt the same, and it seemed the same. But he knew that collars changed color with added balls. Can't leave it in… so… right…

"Release one ball," then reached up to grasp the collar and pinch a piece off as he'd seen the guard do but he found his hand stuttering and mind blanking before he could get close and he pulled his hand away, fear quickly ratcheting up. No… this isn't … crap!

Worry began gnawing at Joe and he glanced outside, the dark of night still too bright to his earthly eyes but recognizable enough that he knew he still had a large chunk of night left. Still, concern sucked him back in and he turned his thoughts back to trying to get the collar off. But as his mind went over what had happened, he was more and more certain the guard had simply said the magic words, 'release one ball.'

Joe grimaced, his mind turning. He tried to feel anything, growing more and more accustomed to the feel of mana and its place and interaction with his mind, but still unable to really feel anything like he did with manipulating mana and mana points. There simply was nothing. Shouldn't it feel … gotta be some kind of mana or magical control. That's the only thing… wait…

His thoughts turned back to how he'd manipulated the collar to take differing shapes and frowned. Was that… mana? I thought… A simple thought and a flex of will along what he was growing more and more certain was his mana control muscle popped another slave collar ball out of his inventory and into his hand. He narrowed his eyes and focused on it shifting to another form, which it did with surprising, and now that Joe thought about it, concerning ease. He couldn't feel how he was connecting to it. Something else was happening here, and it didn't seem to be mana of any kind. No mana was siphoned from him, that he could tell, and nothing was being 'used' when the collar changed. And Joe grew both more curious and more concerned. This… isn't mana… or magic… but… still magic? His wash of mana over the collar in his hand was noticeable to him, if alien and unresponsive. It was inert in his mana senses just as it was inert in to his physical senses, but both still reported a presence. But something else was initiating change. He pulled out his spear he'd won from clearing the dungeon and willed mana into it, and easily felt the mana shifting through it, even after it had 'filled' with mana, his mana senses and 'feeling' reported a movement and action from mana. And if I was holding some kind of mechanical system… I could feel that, too… doesn't work too well with electronics, but… hmm... guess I'd feel the electrical current… for insanely powerful things… And now… could I feel something weaker… Joe pondered that thought for a bit before continuing, dismissing it for lack of data. But for the really weak stuff… guess it's just beyond my range… so… is this beyond my range?

Joe pondered that and poured vast amounts of mana into and around the collar ball in his hands but it remained beyond his mana or physical senses. Its movement and action was somehow beyond his abilities, using a form of energy and a control system that he did not have access to. Still, he poured over it for a time before finally giving up. He put the collar ball back into his inventory and returned to his initial issue.

Right… so not mana. Although obviously mana can do something to the collar… or it can detect mana… there wouldn't be such a massive reaction to being poked with mana if it couldn't. But… then… no… focus. Gotta get this ball off me, so… Joe refocused on how the slave guard had added and taken balls from the new slaves' collars and grew more and more frustrated as all his actions failed to bring a response. OK… I'm missing something… obviously. It can't be the only thing even if I'm sure that's what was needed. So… then what? I remember he put the ball up to the man's neck, then claimed him for his… Realization came and a small smile flittered to his face. Claimed… ha! But… not going to claim myself for another… no one is my master… I'm my own mas… Joe blinked, then grinned with feral joy and no small amount of insanity. This will work! This will work! It has to work… I can do this… Then… I'm free! Then… A soft burble of laughter, no small amount of it tinged with slightly insane desperation, escaped Joe's lips without thought. His head jerked to the side, wondering at the sound before realizing it was him and he ground his teeth, iron will clamping down upon his thoughts, crushing the hope that was twisting his thoughts. I WILL escape!

"I claim my own self for I am my own master!"

* * *

Gunlan roused from the boring meeting, his thoughts sharpening as he blinked in confusion. Why? What… A loss?

* * *

Ilyelanralo froze, eyes widening with shock then turning to genuine worry. Someone took a portion of my… no… not my claimed… anothers'… one of the trainees… the eccentric?! Energy spiked down through him in worry and fear even as the thought came to him, and Ilyelanralo leapt from his office back out into the hallway. He sprinted the two steps between his office and his house slave's room, ripping open her door.

"Up! Call the guards! Someone has come to steal …" Ilyelanralo paused for a bit, eyes tearing from the young woman as she struggled from her sleep tangled beds to the open window with a twisted frown, then restarted, "Someone has come to steal one of the trainees. I do not know which, but fear they are here for the eccentric. Have the guards immediately check upon all trainees! Double for the eccentric. Go. Now!"

The slave girl leapt to her feet, the collar yanking her up even before she was ready to do so herself, and struggled to put on the bathrobe she barely yanked off the wall as her body ran wildly from the room and out the door, mouth already loudly calling out an alarm. He watched her go for a second then turned to look at the opened window. She was quite a bit warmer than most base such as himself. She would… it makes sense… but… His eyes narrowed in deep suspicion and he marched back across the room to his office.

He checked his desktop and artifact and art shelving behind his desk but found nothing unusual. It wasn't until he opened some of his drawers that his worries became suspicions. Those suspicions quickly became concerns with the last drawer. It's been opened… Ilyelanralo stared at the alarm that reported an invasion of his privacy; the tiny mana device blinking warning, two of them. Ilyelanralo stood and looked back at the window, then back to the slave's room.

* * *

Joe felt a nudge suddenly bump into him somewhere, somehow. Something brushed up against him and made itself known. It was just there and informed him of its presence and Joe. Felt his eyebrows rise even as it became something he was aware of. He poked at it. Nothing happened. He poked at it harder and then felt a warming from his collar and his eyes went wide. Wait… is that? Gotta be… right? My collar… my… the ball that I own... Then!

"I release myself."

Joe felt the small 'thing' respond, somehow Joe was certain it agreed or offered an affirmative, then acted. However, the feeling of a straining weight began to push harder and harder against an object immovable. There was no movement or change at all, but just an implacable wall promising a horizon forbidden to him in its entirety. Joe frowned. But… there was an affirmative respon… He blinked with realization. One ball… against… however many I got… six? Seven? More? Is that it?

Joe pulled out the other three and quickly began to lift them towards his neck. Free! Soon! Then suddenly pain thundered through his being. His mind blanking even as his arm froze. The balls in his hand slipped from his frozen grasp and tumbled to the floor even as pain blanked his mind.

When he finally came back to awareness, he was curled up and crumpled upon his bed and he struggled to sit up. He quickly turned to finding the other three collar balls, eyes darting towards them and pain swelled rapidly once again. Joe froze his thoughts, calming himself and trying to turn to something else. Finally, the thought came that freed him a bit, and he slipped the balls back into his hand. Can't waste them. Should collect them back.

But now that they were returned to his grasp, his thoughts struggled to hide his purpose, betraying to swelling pain that surged and retreated as he fought against his own hope and thoughts. It took time, much more than he liked, and he finally was able to begin lifting a hand to his neck, thinking only upon scratching his neck. And finally, his hand made it to his neck where the balls melded into his own collar, hope swelling again even as they slipped in and Joe claimed ownership of himself for each ball. The collar likely changed color although Joe couldn't see it. With the last ball morphing into his collar and claiming himself, Joe tried once again. Outside, some noise began but Joe ignored it, too excited to notice.

"I claim my own self for I am my own master!"

Another click fell into place and Joe frowned then realization settled. Right… three balls… so gotta claim three times.

"I claim myself. I claim myself."

Two more clicks flickered in and Joe grinned. Yes!

"I release myself."

* * *

Ilyelanralo froze again, this time with incredible worry. A feeling of contesting swelling up and he quickly dismissed it. It was a small weak thing, but proved his fear and he quickly sped back to his room, throwing on the barest of clothing before leaping back down his stairs and preparing to head out to the door when he froze again, another contesting will swelling again, this time with greater force, but still ultimately weaker and he dispelled it. He was lucky that the thieves had failed to consider the number of slave collars that were needed, his rejection of their claim immediate and simple. But… almost… especially that last push! Despite that, Ilyelanralo sprinted for the door and the mustering yard. This is no simple band of thieves! Some clanners… a rival within the slave guild? His thoughts raced through possibilities even as he leapt from his villa.

* * *

Gunlan's sleepy sighs turned diligent when he felt the loss grow, his mind turning from the report being given. He searched through, categorizing what he was sensing until he realized it was his eccentric. Curiosity roused him fully. What is this trainer attempting to do?

* * *

Joe felt the affirmative again, the pressure to release growing and an effort to fight against the weight that rejected his request. The wall remained implacable, unmoving and rejecting. His force was too weak and unable to push on so he added his own will to it, pushing hard. The implacable wall became soft, his effort beginning to deform it and Joe felt a swell of relief and hope hit hard, but almost immediately it hardened and slammed shut, rejecting his request entirely and Joe grimaced, hope almost shattering because of the failure before Joe quickly grasped his hope in cotton soft hands and wrapped it away in protection deep within before it collapsed, hiding it once again. He grit his teeth then nodded his head. I know what to do now, though. We're … I've… this'll work!

Joe felt relief flood through him as a path forward revealed itself and Joe grinned with feral glee. As he basked in renewed hope and a clear path to the future, a torch light suddenly flooded the area and Joe blinked in surprise when the noise of the camp slammed into his consciousness. What? This… Joe blinked again in worry when he heard it all.

The guards where shouting and sprinting through the camp, wild rapid pounding feet as they scrambled through all the tents of the various slaves. The slaves woke with confusion, rage, or anger even as guards ripped through tents and searched them. Joe flinched then panicked. The collar… the color! This…

He quickly reached up to the collar in panic and began, "Release one ball."

He only picked one ball because he knew it worked, the first ball already pulled out and sucked into his inventory, his other hand pinching his collar and repeating the phrase, "Release one ball."

He feared attempting more, knowing only that one at a time was possible, "Release one ball."

The second ball slipped into inventory even as fear began coiling rapidly through his body, the torch light coming closer, faster, and the scrape of a hand on his own tent as the guard ripped down towards his tent's entrance, "Release one ball."

The third ball in his right hand sucked into his inventory even as the last ball pealed from his collar like a pinch of clay. A hand pressed into his tent flap and slid down and away, pulling the flap back. Panic had him pulling hard in fear and it popped out then he instantly ripped it from reality into his dimensional storage, panic washed away with relief even as he struggled to look up at the guard with any emotion but guilt.

The guard's head popped into the tent and Joe looked up at him, panic and fear roiling through him even as he settled on belligerent, "What? What do you want? Kinda busy here… star inventor and all. Go away so I can get my sleep!"

The guard ignored him and stepped forward, marching into the room and grabbing Joe by the hair before yanking his head back and bending to look at the collar. Joe felt rage explode through him, stifled it a bit, then decided to let it go. The excuse of it playing into his insanity image, despite how flimsy and ill thought out it was, enough to allow his rage control.

Joe leapt to his stumps in a rage, stepping back even as a hand rushed out in a hard hook from his right arm. The hook proved useless, it froze immediately when it came even close to hitting the guard, and his collar responded. Pain swept through him but then faded to nothing as his rage and adrenaline simply dampened it to nothing. The failure of his punch to actually land shocked Joe, and he turned his hook into a motion that pushed the guard away gently. It was the only thing he could get his body to do. It was enough, however, as the guard stared at him in shock when he stumbled back slightly.

Shocked turned to anger and no little amount of fear and that fear kept the man from retaliating. He spoke back in a rapid staccato, the anger obvious in his voice. Joe simply stared at him, settling on a mocking look since he was unable to know what was being said. The guard's anger erupted and violent gestures joined the tirade as the man began a long angry soliloquy. The man continued for some time before ending with a violent and angry display, attempting to instigate Joe. He simply stared back, allowing a bit of mockery to show. The guard grimaced, anger spiking, but a shout outside caught the man's attention and the guard stopped, responding with quick military precision. A short conversation ensued with the guard inspecting Joe's collar before leaving the tent in a run and replying to the authoritative voice outside.

Whatever was said, it left Joe alone for a time as guards scampered up and down the tents. The slave master came next, rather rushed and cautious as he approached Joe. Despite the slave master's initial caution, the man moved on quickly once he'd inspected his collar and him. He seemed unhappy with what he found, but not really at him, and left muttering in a rush from the tent. Joe must have been one of the first slaves visited by the slave master, which left him nervous. And even after the personal check by the slave master, the guards still returned three or four times that night. The entire camp was kept awake the whole night long and no one got any sleep. But in spite of all the rush and multiple checkups, Joe grew more and more relaxed as the time past, more and more certain of his safety. And, for the first time in a very long time, hope fueled drive as real plans began to unfold in his mind.

* * *

Gunlan felt the control return and frowned. This trainer… what... His thoughts were interrupted when the discussion turned a bit more volatile, anger rising from several other members and Gunlan turned his thoughts to his own, leaving only a mental note to speak to the slave master later. A note that he quickly forgot.

* * *

Ilyelanralo paced, muttering in the mustering yard as the guards prowled the grounds. Most were still skulking between all the tents of the slaves, although some were now patrolling the camps edge. The strongest stood at his side, protecting him. And Ilyelanralo grimaced. None of the collars were compromised, and that made Ilyelanralo very nervous.

* * *

Joe woke with some surprise because he'd been able to fall asleep despite the nonstop harassing of the guards against pretty much every slave in the camp for the entire night. In spite of his rest, Joe woke bleary eyed for the first time in a very long time. Too many plans... Joe, however, couldn't keep the smile off his lips nor stop the joy burning in his heart.

Getting enough sleep had never been a real problem here, the extra long days giving him enough sleep regardless. The only time where exhaustion came into play regularly was when he went to bed since the days were so long and dragged at him by the end of the day, exhaustion catching up to him at the end of the day.

He woke a bit late, which turned out to be just about the time everyone else woke up. He stumbled out of his tent in exhaustion to find most of the slaves already on the mustering yard, lined up. Joe drove himself there, fighting with his exhausted mind to continue acting insane. The slave master began much like he always did, although there was a noticeable tension in the set of his shoulders, and Joe struggled to keep his smile off his face.

The mustering quickly shifted to very different, as the slave master grew increasing passionate, then yelling and calling out to random slaves. He then began adding pain enhanced punishments with his speech and most of the slaves moaned while standing to attention. Joe found the pain rather banal, especially since he knew it was coming. It was nothing more than a slight itch that, while irritating, is easily quelled with subtle scratching. His pain was the same, held off with a slight flexing of his will.

This lasted for pretty much the rest of the mustering except when the man would lash out with wild stabs of pain, Joe's pain administered with the control artifact while all the others were controlled by voice command. After a good twenty minutes of pain and haranguing, the slave master began calling up individual slaves. After three or four, Joe quickly found the pattern.

Each slave would be questioned and as best as Joe could catch, each slave knew nothing and replied so. The slave master would grow increasingly irate until he began administering painful reminders and soon was simply asking the exact same question. This went on for every single slave, even for him. That fell through rather instantly as Joe had almost no capability to understand and the man flew into a spittle filled rage which had Joe rolling on the ground in intense pain, huffing deep breaths while grunting in a desperate attempt to mitigate the pain. OK… must be a dial on that thing… this.. hurts a bit more. It didn't help, and Joe soon lay rolling on the ground with very little bodily control. Liquid seeped from eyes, nose, and throat and less pleasantly did so from the other end as well, leaving his cloak and pants fouled with disgusting excrement.

The pain lasted. Lasted and lasted and lasted as he heard only the screaming rage of the man who inflicted the pain upon him. And Joe only held on as his anger blanketed his thoughts.

* * *

Gwenvair came to a halt in startled terror even as Kilniara leapt to her side, grasping an arm. Kalia was down the street and turned to stare at them with concern but did not move towards them while Xylarnae sprinted down the street at a dead run, colliding with them both. Gwenvair didn't even wait, falling into the bonds and reaching across even as pain and terror swelled and filled the family with horrific pain. She reached across the bond and soothed him, but there was little they could do against pain. Anger and frustration were more easily dampened than pain that burnt the senses.

Still, Xylarnae's poor bond connection offered a soothing touch, added to Kilniara's greater bond capabilities but weaker in effect. The pain subsided and more importantly, soft protection swelled and surrounded their lover's mind. They could do little for the pain, but they could easily protect the mind, and so they did, their help swelling as Kalia finally arrived at their side. Gwenvair stifled her frustration with the woman but remained focused on Joe and his needs.

* * *

Ilyelanralo's rage burned! His conscious lost beneath the flames of fear and frustration as the man who was the source of his ire wallowed at his feet. Ilyelanralo didn't know how long he ejected his anger upon the man, but when he came aware, the utter silence of the whole camp shocked him and poignantly pointed to his folly. Ilyelanralo stifled his embarrassment and quickly collected himself. That… was not professional! Ilyelanralo's embarrassment turned to self-recrimination as he berated himself.

Relief flowed next as he looked down and saw that the eccentric was still himself, his mind unbroken but for the insanity the eccentric affected. Ilyelanralo could see the flicker of rage and rebellion in moments, and now was quite certain the insanity was an affectation. How the man had been able to portray it so brilliantly before was astounding to Ilyelanralo, but obviously the man was breaking as was his efforts. It would only take a moment of time.

Putting on a soft loving smile, Ilyelanralo reached down and lifted the eccentric to his stumps with concern and care, "Why must you insist on this being so hard? You will learn your place, nothing you do will change this. Nothing will break your collar. It is impregnable. And no one is coming to save you! Do not believe such folly. Accept your place and accept your new and better role! How can you not see this? You will soon have the joy and privilege to be an excellent assistance to the great and powerful!"

He raised the eccentric to his feet and cared for him tenderly, ignoring the spittle, snot, and excrement. Care was always important, and turned many a heart as much as any punishment. It was crucial to have both.

* * *

Joe found himself pulled to a seated position with soft words laced with meaningful care. Joe was still disoriented from the incredible pain as it washed over him. He'd been able to clench down a bit way through and fight against it, his mind a fortress against the pain that flooded him. He'd been foolish to think he'd gained some kind of defense against it. Pain can always grow.

His mind slowly became aware of his surroundings and he quickly realized he was being held up by the slave master. Instinctual revulsion shuddered through him and he backed away, standing on his own, but refused to look at the man, utter blinding rage swelling through him. I'm not going to be able to keep my cool… at all! He turned his gaze to the surroundings, then began muttering to himself even as the slave master prattled on in a quiet soothing voice. Joe hated it. Rage burnt brilliant, scorching the landscape of his being, leaving little behind.

* * *

Later that afternoon, Ilyelanralo stood within his garden and brooded. His anger burning. Across the garden, his slave girl lay leaned up against the fence, hidden from the view of the common slaves while a man stood behind and whipped her. Her back shredded under the cruel strikes, flesh tearing off as bone began to glow through the brilliant flow of red blood before the healer would step forward and return her to health. The whip never stopped, the healing occurring mid whip so the pain never ended. She must learn. She must… But who… who entered my office… my home!

His thoughts were not upon her. A shiver of fear, instead, slithered its way down his spine for the fact that someone powerful had been in his home. However, under it all, hidden deep below, was a different fear, one of horrified fascination. How… how is he… He struggled to understand how the eccentric was still whole, despite the immense pain he'd inflicted upon the man. There was relief, of course, that the man was still sane, but deeper through it all was a growing dread.

* * *

The mustering had been called to an end shortly after his wonderful journey down pain lane. He hadn't been the only slave who'd remained in the mustering yard staring blankly out across the fields, although he was one of the last to leave. Sometime after he'd been raised to his stumps with soft endearing words by the same man would caused the pain, Joe had fallen back on his rear with an uncomfortable squish and a growing cold wetness.

The guards were kind enough to leave the slaves alone today. Or they were too shocked by what they saw. Joe giggled softly, then quickly thought to stifle it in embarrassment because he didn't want to be seen as insane, then realized he wanted to be seen as insane and the giggle took on an edge that really sold it. Joe reveled in it for a time then grew disturbed by his own giggle, recognizing that what he was seeing wasn't his affectation of insanity but taking on an edge that really had a truth to it and he snapped his mouth shut, sobering abruptly. He dropped his head and then closed his eyes, calming himself and seeking his center before taking a deep breath. Allowing himself the freedom to grit his teeth for just a few moments, he then returned his face to placidity and shifted to stand as he looked up.

His pants squished, and cold liquid clay crackled then slid across his cheeks and thighs. EW…. Ok… that… Joe struggled to keep his face unreactive but found it almost impossible and allowed disgust to squirm across his features. He settled back down then looked around where he was for a bit before taking a look around, finally, slowly, coming back to awareness. Yeah… not… yeah…

He dropped his hands to his thighs instead, tying off the top of his pants legs with his fist gripping the fabric of his pants tight. He didn't want any nuggets to drop and his stomach curled, his chest compressing quickly as vomit tried to hurl its way up his throat before he clenched his mouth shut tight, tensing his core and halting the process. He breathed hard through his nose a few times until he'd regained control. Right… let's get this done.

Joe stood to his stumps and began an awkward shuffling towards the creak that was used as a water source. As he crossed the camp towards the river, the soft cries of a woman in horrible pain wafted up from the slave master's villa and Joe didn't think much of it, only glancing over but saw nothing. Kinda… normal right now… Joe took in the sounds of pain and stifled sniffles surrounding him and dismissed it. He turned back to his task, driven to become clean and made sure to travel well downstream the creak before simply stripping naked and falling butt first into the river. He scrubbed furiously, cleaning himself completely before turning to his pants, spending a good half hour to get everything as clean as possible.

He had no privacy. But he did not care. When it was all done, he walked back to his tent with his pants draped over his shoulders and nothing covering below but the drape of his shirt. Luckily, that had proven to be clean of any excrement so Joe wasn't left naked as he walked. But when he got back to his tent, he took one of his cloaks and stripped it to form some kind of loincloth wrapped around his waist then pulled up from his rear through his legs and tucked in the waistband at his belly. It wasn't the most comfortable, not because there was any discomfort in it but because Joe had no confidence the thing wouldn't all just unwind and fall off, leaving him naked.

Still, it was enough to act as his pants while his shirt rested on a couple of makeshift sticks to dry off. The day was a waste already, so he lazed in his tent but made sure to keep an eye on his pants through the tent door which he had draped open. He then spent the day practicing all his various skills, including infusion now, while fidgeting in anxiety for the night to come. Just tonight… if I get enough balls… if … then…

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Night came too slowly, each event of the day a boring slog to complete. The only interruption that seemed to take his mind off things was dressing once again when his pants had dried, but the interminable wait returned immediately after, anxiety swelling the whole time, even late into the night as he waited for the camp to fall asleep.

He regrew his legs way too early; dangerously early, but he found himself growing ever more anxious. All he needed was another five. Ten? To be safe? Maybe a couple dozen? Just really overwhelm the thing! That… Joe's breathing had quickened with the now brilliant hope as only one thought rampaged through his mind. Soon. Soon. Soon. Soon. Soon.

When the camp finally settled, it took everything within him to calm himself and wait even longer. After an endless wait, Joe finally allowed himself to rise and sneak out of the tent. He fought the urge to simply burst through, and he stared out into the camp, then felt despair settle in. It was bright. Light swamped the camp everywhere and lit everything with brilliant clarity. And worse, the guards marched the grounds with nervous fear and twitchy glances. Desperation drove him, and he almost chose to go anyway when a last quick glance around had him freeze first in consternation then with fear. There was a single guard on the villa balcony staring directly at him, eyes shining in the lamplight, unmoving and piercing. Joe remained frozen, fear percolating up through him as his breathing increased slightly. It took a good few moments before Joe realized he hadn't been found out and then finally be able to calm down. He's just looking at my tent… but… Despite that calming epiphany, the man did not take his gaze off the tent entrance. Joe struggled to withhold his tears as he returned to his cloak mattress bed.

The struggle failed and the tears flowed freely when he cleaved his legs off again before storing them in his inventory. Tears flowed freely as he stared up into the tent. Tears flowed freely as he fell asleep. But for the first time in a long time, he felt again.

* * *

Ilyelanralo did not sleep that night. He tried to, but marched back and forth in his room as he stared out at the slave guard he'd posted to keep watch from his balcony. He would need healing in the morning, the command to watch the eccentric's tent without moving or blinking the entire night would be devastating, but Ilyelanralo could not afford to lose the eccentric.

How did they find the eccentric? Who … a leak in the slave's guild? Who is this eccentric? Saga wants him… or her temple does… and the strange conglomeration as well… A hand lifted to his chin even as a thumb slipped between his lips and his teeth began chewing on his thumb's nail. His pacing took on a bit of a frantic movement as his careful personal control faded beneath his lost thoughts. Did I do everything? Is … I…

Ilyelanralo returned his focus to the camp with a bit of frantic concern as he looked towards the camp borders. Nope… guards there… ok. Then… He blinked then noticed that his thumb's nail was in his teeth and pulled it out with an angry tsk. His angry self-reproach cut off as his thoughts turned back to his worry.

Guards on alert. I gave the orde… Did I give the order to increase the eccentric's training? I think… Worry spiraled through his thoughts until the memory of the event punched into his thoughts and he calmed. Yeah… that's done… want the eccentric trained and gone as soon as possible! Then… windows… The thought snapped to the fore of his thought and he immediately turned to glide down the stairs in not quite a rush until he came to his servant's door to rip it open. Relief flooded through him as he saw the window closed, ignoring the whimper and the quick reply in obedience from his slave.

"Yes, master?"

He didn't even reply to her, brushing a hand through the air to dismiss her, turning away and closing the door. Yes… commanded… I remember now… Ilyelanralo walked back up the stairs to his room much more slowly, if not remotely with calm as his thoughts twisted in upon themselves again and again. Ilyelanralo, the slave master of the slave guild's training camp slept very poorly that night, mind regurgitating the day again and again.

* * *

Joe woke with a screech of pain as a knuckle was lost off his left hand pinky. The pain lurched him from his dreams and to a seated position almost immediately. However, like every other time, the only lurch he experienced was the sudden wakening, his desire to sit up and defend himself remained locked behind a paralysis that kept him frozen on his bed. His eyes darted, flickering around the room but always going back to the same place the two always stood when the torture began.

The healer stood near the center of the tent, bored, hand outstretched towards Joe as mana streamed from the healer's hand in tight thin narrow slowly undulating streams of incredibly distinct and controlled mana that flowed into his left pinky. Little needed to be done as his insane amounts of HP zipped his pinky back to full health so the mana that arrived at his pinky then stopped its flow while still undulating with lazy energy.

The dagger wielder knelt at his side, his dagger already coming back down on his same knuckle to snip it free, and his HP took an even greater dip. Joe bit off a scream, then closed his eyes and turned his head away and soon lost track of time. His HP disappeared and the torture session began in earnest. The man would snip away knuckle after knuckle as Joe remained blinded in brilliant white light behind crunched closed eyelids.

The man wasn't fast. There were moments for Joe to calm, his heavy panting when the cutting stopped somehow a relief between the spikes of massive pain despite the remaining throb of each cut knuckle. To distract himself, he would sometimes turn his gaze to the streaming mana from the regenerative healer as the mana would enclose one of his amputated fingers.

He couldn't watch on too long for whenever he saw the dagger being brought to bear against his next knuckle, he would tense and the anticipation made things so much worse. The pain, somehow, was felt just that little bit more. He'd learned the rhythm of the daggerman, however, and learned when to turn away. It was almost a dance now.

Snip. A knuckle would fall and brilliant white light of pain would burst through Joe's senses for a just a moment. In that moment, he would turn his head back and when he opened his eyes, he watched the mana encircle the stump of one of his fingers. He would ignore the pile of knuckles to the side, slowly bleeding out into the ground and watched the healer instead, carefully studying the mana movements. Then, a few moments later, his eyes would close again and his head would turn, just right before he heard the daggerman shift. He wished he could block his sense of hearing as well, for that little shift always warned of what was soon to come, but not seeing was enough. Tension would rise. It always would no matter what Joe tried, then the sudden feeling of cold metal and a sharp bite that shifted to blinding crushing pain before it faded from brilliant white and Joe would find his eyes and face turned back to the healing mana flowing into his new wound.

He didn't really learn anything new from the mana. He really wasn't sure what he was even looking at, to be honest. The mana lazed oddly, but seemed to do its work rather efficiently. His eyes closed on instinct even as he turned his head away, almost in surprise at what he'd done, but then he heard the subtle shift from the daggerman and then the cold edge of the dagger. He groaned, a soft sound of pain slipping from his lips when his next knuckle was crushed and then was snipped from his hand.

Joe took longer to return this time, a soft huffing pant echoing in the background echoing into his ears until awareness came to him again and he found his eyes already on the fine narrow undulating line of mana capping the end of another one of his missing digits. He remained like that for a time, then longer, then even longer before finally blinking in surprise when he realized that things were taking too long.

Joe typically ignored the daggerman, not wishing to know what was coming next. It was just better that way; at least for him. But as the time went on and on, Joe found himself confused then surprised since this was typically how the sessions ended, although the dagger warrior would leave the tent and healer behind. However, this was much shorter than normal, his pile of knuckles not even a quarter the height of the typical pile. Joe found his eyes drifted towards his torturer with horror filled wonder and curiosity even as he desperately tried to tell himself not too look. When his gaze finally fell on the man, Joe wished he'd trusted himself.

Joe's eyes drifted shut even as shuddering gasps began ripping through his throat. No… no!!! NO… please… no! Time faded and was lost, and anticipation grew in wild bursts as Joe began to hyperventilate. Suddenly, the healer spoke, then the dagger man replied. The two men speaking with one another in curiosity. Joe didn't know what they were saying, but the shock of the interruption was enough to calm him and he opened his eyes to see to the two men staring at him with some confusion as they had a short dialog with one another.

When they saw Joe staring at them, they tried to include Joe in the conversation, but of course Joe understood virtually nothing of what they were saying and Joe got a grip on himself before closing his eyes and turning away, turning inwards and falling into a calming meditation instead of his panic. And when it came, it was as bad as Joe had feared, but now accepted with brutal resignation than panic.

The crude flat piece of iron glowed a brilliant orange from the heat of the brazier as it came down upon Joe's body and the sizzle of flesh and the smell of well cooked flesh filled the room and Joe twisted in violence as a roar ripped from him. His eyes squeezed shut and the brilliant white behind his eyes sparkled in kaleidoscope rainbows. Then the burning iron was ripped from his flesh as cooked chunks and seared flesh and meat stuck to the iron and were ripped from his body in chunks.

Joe's roar died to a whimper as the relief of the hot iron was removed from his skin. Something touched the burn and Joe flinched, hard, then stifled a moan as soothing coolness came to the patch and Joe's eyes opened to find the healer's mana encapsulating the wound. Joe blinked, then struggled to hide the smile and mocking laughter. The laughter died rather quickly when he saw his burned flesh flayed under the effects of the healer's mana, dead skin lifting from his body then evaporating in some kind of energy field. Humor returned and he dropped his head back while hiding his smile. Relief surged through him but he kept it from the other two men. Well… that … ha! That's it? OK… that's not so bad… Don't have to feel the continuous pain of second and third degree burns for the next months and years… then… Joe huffed, failing to hide the small smile that came to his lips before smoothing his face. This… A deep juddering sigh of relief filled his lungs then slipped out slowly even as he closed his eyes and prepared for something totally different, and yet completely the same.

* * *

The two left the eccentric's tent, silent with no small amount of foreboding. They had done this many times before, the hands to the master's will. This was different, though. And the strangeness of it burned deep within them. They couldn't put a finger to the disquiet they felt, but both had felt the ever growing sense of the foreboding alien. They didn't understand why the man fought so hard. There was no point to. Yet, he did.

They walked quietly from the trainees tents, silent until the healer finally spoke, "Too strong."

The dagger wielder blinked and looked at him, "Huh?"

The healer sighed, "He's too strong."

The dagger wielder curled his lips in frustration and dismissal, "Not my problem."

The healer snorted, "You think the eccentric will leave us alone when… if…"

The dagger wielder snorted in return, cutting the healer off, "You think when? Really? No one has ever broken free from the collar."

The healer fell silent at that, agreeing, but continued, "He has friends."

That made the dagger wielder shudder and he turned to look at his accomplice, "They have to find him… and pay for him."

The two fell silent before the dagger wielder nodded and sighed, "He is too strong."

"Fire breaks."

The dagger wielder curled his lips up in bitter fear this time, and glanced at the healer. The two remained silent and walked away, but both falling back into their memories and could only see the eccentric's smiles as he was burned.

* * *

Joe drifted in and out of sleep after the torturers left but then heaved himself awake, knowing he had a chance, hope burning anew. Remembering the heightened stance of the camp, he didn't waste time healing himself and crawled to the entrance instead. Without opening the tent flap, he shuffled back and forth to look out, making sure to stay out of the slim arc of direct light from a brazier lighting the entire entrance to his tent.

He ignored most of the visible arc he had, instead focusing up towards the slave master's villa then stifled a curse when he saw the slave on the balcony staring down at his tent. Joe looked back, then shuttered. There was something strange, even bordering on insane, about the way the man did not move, blink, or act. He was a statue staring the whole time. Joe shuddered, grit his teeth, then stumbled back into bed.

This went on for another couple weeks, with the pet coming again in that time. The arrival of the pet stirred a dreadfulness in Joe as he realized another cycle was beginning, and he curled in the corner of his tent in a bit of a horrified panic until he was able to calm himself. As he'd done before, he staked the pet out in the field and left it, but this time it was a tiny little thing that Joe seriously doubted offered much by way of a good meal. That really was a non-concern for Joe, his stock of food shoved in his inventory his true source of sustenance.

That realization had Joe reconsider his options, and one day, in full view of everyone, he marched out to his pet and let it go. The thing scampered off into the forest as soon as it was free and Joe turned away and marched back to his tent.

As soon as he done it, the one large brooding slave that was in camp Joe laughed uproariously and marched out into the field to do the same with his, releasing his pet and allowing it free. A few others who sycophantically followed Joe around also did the same, but most simply watched on fearfully. Joe really didn't care. He didn't want to deal with anything but driving towards his freedom and hoping he could do so before the kids showed up.

Throughout all of this, Joe was carefully scouting the camp every night, once before going to bed and once after his torturers had finished their grisly duty. Every night, the slave on the balcony was there, staring out and watching. For the first week, Joe floundered in raging impatience, but then calmed by the end of the week and simply fell into the rhythm. The week the pets showed up, some subtle things changed which gave Joe hope that the heightened surveillance would drop: the extra braziers scattered around the camp were darkened once again and the camp guards went back to their regular rotations.

His chance came the next week. He remained awake, antsy and nervous as always while he awaited for the camp to fall asleep. He remained in his small rough bed, pushing himself to remain longer than normal, and when he finally stirred to slither towards the crack in his tent flap, he looked out with a rush of exhilaration to find the guard gone. He spent another good dozen minutes or so searching through the full breadth of view that the tent flap offered and found things mostly back to normal. Almost, he leapt at the chance, but his caution welled up and he calmed himself.

After some careful thought and the certainty that he still had a good chunk of time before the children showed up, Joe pushed himself to wait another few nights and slithered back into bed before being woken violently by his nightly torture session. A second glance out the tent flap after the torture session completed that night's work as reconnaissance before he slipped back into bed. He repeated the process for almost a week and a half.

Then, much more confident that things had returned to normal, Joe slipped out into the tents then the forest beyond late in the evening but well before midnight. This time, his mission was defined and his goal was unambiguous. He moved through the forest with ease and was quickly opposite the villa. The cautious slither towards the villa across the field of tall grass was quick and easy, although it took everything in him to maintain his slow and cautious pace to hide his passage. He was absolutely certain of what would happen, so almost threw caution to the wind and left an obvious trail in the grass. If he'd studied the villa a bit more carefully, Joe would have found his confidence very quickly replaced by worry.

As it was, he didn't notice the closed window to the slave's room until he was already on the manicured lawn with garden and lounging area. The sight of the closed window immediately erased hope and replaced it with a burgeoning bubbling horror. He raced across the back yard and made it to the window only to see it firmly closed. A raised hand and a frozen moment in time proved he wasn't getting into the villa this way. His panic drove him to search the entire villa carefully only to find the same. All the windows were closed and none allowed him to touch or even come near to them, let alone slide them open.

Joe despaired, collapsing on the manicured lawns and gardens surrounding the villa and stared up at his hope behind locked windows and impossible entrances. His eyes fell on the second story of the house and a small hope reignited like thermite, burning hot and refusing to be quelled against his better judgment.

Joe raced around the house, reckless and uncaring and sparing only the minimal thought towards remaining unseen, but he found nothing open on the second story and luckily, no one noticed him. Retreating to the back once again, away from the other guards patrolling the camp, Joe fell to the ground in despair once again while staring up at the few windows available. Only two were really valid points of entry, one being a fool's choice as it was the door that opened out on the balcony into what Joe was certain was the slave master's bedroom or suite.

The second window was a rather large window that offered a view of the forest but there was no balcony or platform beneath it. A sheer wall rose from the first up to the second floor and it was directly over the rear patio entrance as well. Joe looked up at it and grit his teeth in frustration. He had no way to test, but was rather certain that even this window was protected from being opened by outside infiltrators. Or is it a white list? Maybe? Only certain people can open the windows? Or just an inside outside thing? Those inside can open but those outside can't? Or is it… Joe shook his head, dismissing the thoughts and crushing his curiosity. He stared up at the window with gritted teeth then blinked in surprise.

One easy way to check, right? I … maybe? Joe stared at the window carefully then settled up next to the wall and window door underneath his target above. Just a small hop… a little jump, right? It took a bit, but then mana flooded out into his system, uncaring of the MP cost as he wasted all his MP on an intent based infusion. So much easier… but so… expensive! That pretty much emptied the entire MP pool, giving him only a few moments to act. He was especially careful to have it flood into his mind as well, enhancing and heightening his senses. Then, he hopped.

It was barely even a movement; not even a flexing of his thighs as just his calves flexed slightly and Joe suddenly found himself floating before the second story window. A hand reached out even as a soft grin began to form on his face. The grin quickly vanished as the familiar mental fog and paralysis returned and he ripped his hand away, immediately aborting the attempt.

He landed back on the ground, breathing heavily, but not from the exercise. Cold sweat plastered his face and he finally realized that he wasn't getting in. It took him another thirty minutes of prowling outside the villa before the sudden realization that his nightly torture session would begin again soon cut his efforts short. That thought was the only thing able to drive him to finally return to his tent. The torture session was no different than any other time, although now with added burns. It took another hour or two of careful kata work after the especially difficult torture session to take it one step further and admit that he wasn't getting into the house. Joe wallowed for a time, desperation driving him for a solution he could not find. What… what… how… what do I do?

* * *

Joe sat at his favorite place when he had been living in the outback of Irian Jaya, Indonesia, now known as West Papua. It was a beach, almost ethereal in its existence simply because of how faraway it was from any other human habitation. The martial arts master his family had found for him and his sister had chosen a place remote specifically because he hated being bugged by others. It worked for most but not so much for his parents.

Situated behind a mountain and surrounded by what were essentially cliffs, his master's home was remote and difficult to get to. It also made it quite difficult to live there, requiring a daily grind of hunting, fishing, and gardening to get the food necessary to survive. His master was diligent in the work, or they starved. It also made Joe and his sister rather diligent as well since the man never allowed them to slack off.

But, early in the morning, while his master practiced his meditation techniques, Joe had a moment to himself. The early sunrise shining in over to his right, brilliant off the ocean as it placidly lapped at the clean white yellow sand. The heavy humidity of the day just arriving as temperatures would only soar. If there was one thing that Joe did not enjoy, it was the year round heat. But the easy rhythm of life that never changed made living it rather easy, until it wasn't.

Still, the early rise, the meditation, then repairs, then hunting and fishing to bring in breakfast followed by a short jaunt through the garden to pluck some veges to prep to add to the breakfast was the normal morning routine. Cleaning everything after led to their morning exercises and training. Lunch started the whole cycle again, although the repair period was more deliberate and took on the more challenging repairs. The afternoon repeated the cycle, with more training and the serious repairs before another session of hunting and gathering prepared their supper.

It was a simple life, repetitive and unchanging. It was also a rather hard life, with a failure to hunt or gather leaving them hungry and struggling the next day, but the tropical abundance of life made hunger very rare.

Joe sighed as the sun went higher and a subtle shift in the dream changed the location to another time and place, Joe a bit older and the beach now populated with vacationers. Joe didn't notice, accepting it as the norm as all dreamers did. He settled in, enjoying his peace, leaning into his father. The peace swelled, welling through him and Joe smiled, happy.

Things shifted again, the peace vanishing before current reality and the happy smile on Joe's face took on a bitter brittleness just on the verge of shattering into raging hatred. Joe sighed.

"Not an easy life," Joe breathed out.

"Never said it was," his father replied.

Joe glanced at his father, the bitter smile souring to a full bitter grimace, "But you said loving others works."

His father huffed, a soft humorless laugh, "It works as long as everyone else is doing it."

Joe's eyebrows quirked at that, "Seems rather dumb, dad."

His father turned to stare at him, the smile fully falling from his face, "Do you like what you are seeing now?"

The idyllic beach and happy vacationers flickered, replaced with the bitter horror of the camp for a few moments, the horrific reality imprinting itself on their conversation.

Joe felt his heart speed up. This isn't… Joe blinked and frowned, "Dad?"

His father's face shifted to a soft smile, and bitter sadness returned, but with acceptance, "Do you want this life for your children?"

The beach returned, a beautiful sunset glowing behind the happy couples and families wandering the beach.

Joe took a deep breath, closing his eyes before turning to look away from his father, taking in the beauty of the sunset glowing brilliantly off to his left. Another deep breath cleansed the tension from his body and his father stood up, clapping a hand down on Joe's shoulder to assist him in standing beside Joe. The two fell into silent reflection.

"Dad. It's… it's not fair."

"No. It is not… not at all."

The two fell silent some more before Joe started again, "It's so … so hard!"

His father knelt down beside him, more behind and laid a hand on his shoulder, "It is hard. Very hard. Goodness … greatness comes at the cost of blood, sweat, and tears. And goodness comes at the sacrifice of self."

Joe felt tears falling from his eyes, a wetness that stained his cheeks with a sensation that made it seem more real than dream, "But it's… so hard… and it's not fair! And… it hurts! And…"

Joe babbled on for a time, rage swelling even as tears burned and anger twisted through him, controlling his thoughts and feelings. Joe's babbling turned to screams at the world, raged at the sands and the beach, and waged war with the seas, his hatred swelling and flowing outwards from him. Behind him, his father stood, soft and quiet, but pain radiating ever more and more and Joe felt the pain of his father as his father's love echoed the pain he was suffering. Joe fell silent for a time, then smiled softly, bitter.

"It's not fair, dad. It's too hard."

Darkness fell, the light purpling to bruises as the sun set and a cold wind swept in from the ocean, dropping the temperature precipitously. His father grew quiet behind him, the echoing of loving concern shifting to worry.

"And you think it was easy for me?" whispered his Father behind him.

* * *

Joe woke with a cold sweat and twisted to look behind himself, the dream a stark brilliance in his mind even as he fell back to the dirty clump of cloaks on the dirt ground. The last soft phrase of a hurting father became a burning ember in his mind even as the rest of the dream faded quickly from thought. Joe closed his eyes, acceptance returning and the burning anger fading quickly. Forgiveness was his only option or he would simply continue to escalate the violence, but even as the recognition of this truth settled in his mind, everything within him revolted against it.

He didn't stand from his bed until the mustering was called, and even then, it took a couple calls and warnings to finally rise. Seeing his torturers when he walked out of the tent only highlighted the conflicting emotions, bringing their twisting turmoil more fully into his thoughts and he found himself ignoring all else while emotion battered against knowledge and will found itself ground underneath hatred.

In an attempt to distract and escape his twisting thoughts, he dug into his status once again, even doing so out in public, but keeping it hidden from others' sight. His digging did bring up a rather interesting surprise in the form of a new title and he latched onto it like a starving man.

Huh… interesting, wonder what… ooh! Under his titles, he found a new one, or rather a morphing of an old one. His Endless SP had upgraded and become SP Masochist, offering the ability to keep it on but only engage it at 'specific parameters.' It took Joe a lot of playing around for him to figure out what that exactly meant, but the easiest to understand and use offered the ability to turn on system SP based mostly upon how low his SP got. A little more work and effort revealed more esoteric options and Joe knew he would need to spend a lot more time figuring out all the options available to him.

The esoteric options seemed a lot freer and much more powerful for it but also very unconstrained and difficult for him to implement. His first rush and effort was to create something that would engage his system SP when he was in a fight, but no matter how he wrestled with it, 'a fight' didn't seem to be concrete enough for the system to understand or use as a measure to engage his system SP. So Joe, in his frustration, explored other options and finally found something that clicked, his heart rate. This, of course, wasn't perfect because it would engage when he exercised and it would be a bit late to engage since it would wait for his heart rate to spike. So he wrestled with it a bit more but was unable to really figure out anything else. Guess I'll just… turn it off fully while I exercise.

Joe knew there was so much more he could do with this idea, but couldn't motivate himself to truly study it properly. He was too distracted by his frustration of his current situation, unable to focus on it. And so, despite the welcome distraction of a new title and his efforts to set it up, the day passed in agonizing pain, slowly twisting through his thoughts. And when sun set and he found himself in his bed falling asleep, he remembered nothing of the day, the entirety of it a flashing moment forgotten behind the idea of uncertainty.

He didn't resolve anything, but he was successful in burying it underneath busyness and the next day things returned with some semblance of normal. But his mind continued to chew on the thought like a rabid squirrel, refusing to let go.

* * *

Joe woke with a sigh and a grimace. So… gotta get more of the collar balls… and I can do that … yeah… next incoming group… easy enough, but… Kids're coming soon… gotta… figure something out… Joe's thoughts turned to other more immediate concerns. And he began worrying at options. He spent days and weeks, still practicing his mana, mana point exercises, infusion, and spellwork, including any skills he found important. He practiced sitting still. He practiced moving. He practiced in any way he could think of. He'd been practicing for some time now on his mana points, so had begun pulling out his control mana point and comparing it to those he'd been 'playing' with. Nothing really seemed different. Maybe… something … a little different, maybe? But he remembered what Kalia had told him and so continued his diligent effort. Maybe gotta wait a year or two? But… well…

Joe shrugged off the thought and turned back to his current immediate dilemma. The kids… that… Worry coiled in his guts and he grimaced before forcing himself to struggle with it, allowing his subconscious to take over playing with mana and mana points. His spellwork required a bit more mental effort so he shifted to simplistic exercises for that, not wishing to abandon that, even in this situation. He also added some extreme stretches, especially to his knees, as a plan came to fruition in his mind even as he was distracted by attempting to find a way to save the kids. Finally, cautious but deliberate slashes cut open his skin as he continued to push his HP system as well.

And so Joe's life returned to his torturous life of boredom and nightly pain. The pets had already been introduced and only a few days later brought to slaughter. This broke a good number of the slaves as it always did, and Joe remained aloof to it all, with those who'd glommed on to him proving to grow ever more fragile. Joe hardened his heart, not willing to sacrifice his own soon to come safety, knowing they could be saved later. Despite that, a small voice whispered at the back of his mind, clawing for him to do something, so after the pets had been slaughtered and what were becoming more and more 'his' people gathered around him, he took the moment to reassure them as best he could.

He didn't change his language skill, not foolish enough to take that chance, but dropped his insanity façade. He first chose the one other man that Joe was certain would be able to last, his strong stoic stance aloof and removed from the group that clung to him in desperation. On the day he decided to take the chance, he took a seat under a well shaded tree set off in the far corner of the camp but still inside the camp lines so all could join him without wrestling with the magical camp fence.

He rested there for a time, maintaining his insanity and mumbling under his breath while carving his various game pieces. He'd almost given that up, now certain that he would be able to gain his freedom as soon as he gathered more slave collar balls, but routine was vital to keeping guards bored and ignoring him. After about an hour, still mumbling under his breath and carving his pieces, Joe looked up and glanced around the camp. The guards that had been diligently watching close were now squatted a distance away, resting upon a couple impromptu log seats next to an unlit brazier, pretty much ignoring them. His eyes raked over them for a time before they flitted across the rest of the camp, hands still carving and mouth still mumbling nonsensical English phrases.

After checking out the field, Joe stretched and used the movement to glance behind him, deliberately looking at the strongest of men he'd chosen. He stared him in the eyes for a moment until the man's breath caught in surprise and realized Joe was deliberately looking at him. Joe then turned his eyes from him and glanced across the empty field behind him, verifying there was no one behind before turning back to look forward with one last glance. He searched carefully then looked back at the man.

He held his gaze and stopped muttering and firmed his gaze before nodding very softly. The man's eyes widened in shock and Joe then turned back to his carving, ignoring the man. There was a small fluster of activity around the group, a few looking at the man who'd gasped but Joe ignored it all until things calmed down again. Another quick glance out into the camp revealed no change and he did it again, glancing up at the man. This time, others caught on rather quickly and Joe nodded to the man before sliding his gaze across all the others with a soft nod for them all. As soon as they all began to chat animatedly, Joe shut down and turned back to his carving, ignoring them all. Hope that's enough… maybe.

Whether it was or not, Joe had no desire to swap out his language and see if it was. And the renewed hope of some of the most despairing proved easily seen in the excited hopeful gazes as they stared at Joe. Joe ignored them, then cursed as he realized their changed behavior would be a big problem and he glanced up quickly to take in the guards who remained oblivious. He then glanced up at the villa and found it empty before turning back to others and dropping his blank insanity for an angry glare. All fell silent at that and seemed to understand as they quickly, if a bit badly, returned to their boredom and quiet activities. Joe felt some relief but a ratcheting tension as well though he calmed as the day went on and the guards remained oblivious. He went to bed with a bit more relief, both at successfully encouraging others and for having gotten away with it. But the tension remained high and took almost a week for him to return to some semblance of calm.

* * *

He fidgeted in the morning, staring out towards where the eccentric and his posse sat. It had been over a week since the eccentric had promised them and still the man sat and played the fool. A week that was growing longer and ever closer to his own breaking. I can't… I can't… I … I can't…

He glanced over at the group again, struggling to find his faith to trust in the man but ultimately unable to, and he turned away. His head dropped and he shuffled with deep worry towards the villa before coming upon the guard that kept the slaves and other unworthy away.

"Not here, slave. Return to your place."

The man shivered, shrinking further into himself, "I… I have… uh…"

The guard grew a bit angry, "Speak up, man. Or return to where you belong."

The slave gulped and glanced up before speaking in a rush, "I … I have news… for the slave master… about the eccentric."

The guard frowned, "And what is this news? I'll not be beaten for foolishness."

The slave quickly continued in a rush, obsequious, "His madness… it is an affectation. He is not mad."

The guard paused at that, narrowing his eyes, "And… how is this known?"

The slave quickly gathered himself, excitement returning, "Certainly… if I could gain some …"

The guard interrupted with a bitter growl, "A beating? Are you asking for a beating? Speak or leave but I'll have none of this."

The slave's excitement evaporated to bitter ash as he realized he'd gain nothing and he grit his teeth. He took a step back and bowed, retreating.

"I am sorry for having bothere…"

"And now you will leave? Offering nothing for my time?" the guard's patience vanished as he stepped forward and hammered down on the slave's shoulder.

The slave fell to his knees with a squeal of pain, "Please. I am sorry. I had no inten…"

"You had every intention of enriching yourself. Now… tell me or be beat."

"He looked at me… at me and the men."

The guard paused at that, surprise and consternation twisting his face before being warped by confused anger, "He … looked at you?!? How is tha…"

The slave raised a hand and quickly cried out, "Please, sir. He looked at us… like this."

The slave offered his best impression of the look the eccentric offered and it seemed to be enough for the guard lowered his arm, the club he was using returning to his side, "Begone… and cease speaking of this folly."

The slave lurched to his feet and huddled in upon himself as he fled back to the tents, cradling an arm. A glance up at the eccentric's group offered him no comfort as all but the eccentric stared at him with angry glares.

* * *

The guard pondered what he'd been told, mulling over his thoughts. If it works out… gonna get a lot of favor from the master… but just a look? I'm not… is that enough? Or … The man wrestled with his thoughts for a good couple days before finally seeking out the slave master, this time not foolish enough to make the same mistake as the slave. He reported it and left quietly, hopeful to be remembered later.

* * *

Ilyelanralo watched as the guard left the room speaking about the slave that had reported on the eccentric. His thoughts running deep. Of course he had been certain that the eccentric's insanity was all a play and its revelation was not something that was really meaningful. What concerned Ilyelanralo more than anything else was why the man was willing to break his efforts now, of all times.

Ilyelanralo remained in thought for quite some time until he finally pursed his lips and called for his best guard through his slave. While his slave girl ran to find the guard, Ilyelanralo waffled between overt and covert responses, uncertainty and caution warring with each other. In the end, he chose a middle ground and issued his orders when the guard arrived. His oldest guard arrived and accepted his orders before leaving.

Despite this response, Ilyelanralo felt a soft disquiet coil through his guts.