Horrific Sight
Only half of the slaves returned from the violent fighting, with the few including Johnny and Arthur, Berg and Frei.
It was around seven in the evening when they started, they came back around twelve in the morning. They fought for approximately four hours and the other hour they stood there as the nobles feast as they watched.
Inside the 'cage' there was blood, gouged out body parts, torn skins splattered all over and countless coins tossed onto the ground, its golden shine engulfed by the splatters of blood, painted over like a canvas. The tables were flipped over and the cutleries were tipped over all across the 'cage', painted dark-red and some impaled the fleshes of the dead. The feast that enticed the slaves to fight to the death for were left on to the ground, spilled over along the shattered white ceramic plate.
Outside the 'cage', there were light splashes of dried blood stains on the ground and on the grass, and the fences surrounding the perimeters of the 'cage' soaked the blood coming from within the 'cage'. And further outside, there were around 200 chairs and leftovers from the feasts, the spillage of red wine and emptied bottles scattered all across the field.
After Frei's fight, some nobles left probably because of their conscience returning to them but most still stayed and during the last fight around twenty three nobles out of the hundred were left staying, continuously betting their money on their "fighters". Those after Frei's fight gained confidence as the boy fought against death and managed to survive, maybe they can too, survive this brutality. They thought. They did not however.
Most of the slaves standing by the sideline had their gazes fixated on the brutal spectacle ongoing in front of them, traumatized by the violence, they clung to their places, and their hearts pounding in anticipation, desperately hoping the next weren't them. Many began to pray such like Johnny softly, beneath their breath, and those old like Berg just stood still, unafraid but not unfazed as they watched the fighting between two slaves, fists to fists, kicks to kicks, only one thought remained on their mind, that they have lived for long enough.
Those who have been on the battlefield like Arthur, sold off because of one loss, mistreated and at war their whole life, even now they still can't escape the sensation of violence. Adrenaline surged through their body, they clench their fists tight and their gazes fixated on the slaves on the sidelines, observing their weaknesses, strategizing so when it's the time for them to fight, they'd win. Arthur was unfazed by the violence as he had seen it throughout his whole life, people dying, blood splattering tainting the air with dark red mist, the screams and cries of soldiers charging towards the battlefield. He was calm and almost relaxed, and when he was called upon to the 'cage', he had a wide smile on his face.
When everybody came back to the stables in Freiheit, most were injured heavily except for Arthur with a slight cut on his eyelids, small enough to not be a threat to his life but big enough for it to be recognizable.
It was six in the morning when Frei woke up. Only his eyes were awake while the rest of his body were ensnared in a fog of exhaustion, each limb clinged to the unbearable fatigue and soreness, as if protesting any movement. But Frei can't help but forcefully tried moving his body to search for his friend, Berg. "Where was he?" He thought. He recalled the events from the night before. The noble that assaulted him, Berg's confession and his decision following the noble back to the 'cage'. Then a particular memory struck him. Berg's affirming words, telling Frei to stay behind in the forest, avoiding certain punishment.
As he continued, a certain emotion that he had never experienced before, got increasingly more obvious. "What happened to him?" He thought to himself. When Berg left Frei and followed the noble, he would've met Arthur and the others at the 'cage'. Even if there were punishments, he would've at least come back with Arthur and the others after the fight. "Could he have been killed?" Frei thought deeply, his body began to quiver and his pupils dilated, sweats began to form around his forehead. He felt worried.
He struggled to get up from the hay that he slept on, but he continued nonetheless, worried that his friend might be in a predicament. He wanted to help. When he got up shaking uncontrollably from the pain and fatigue he had endured, he stumbly walked outside of the stables, hoping that if he'd walk far enough he would see him. He saw the distance between him and the forest he was in, and it somehow seemed much farther than before. He resolved himself after a minute of thinking of the pain and hassle it will be to walk that far.
Step by step, he walked relentlessly across FreiHeit despite the searing pain in his legs, the shaking increased each time he took a step and from time to time, he would stumble and fall onto the ground but each time he would get back up. During the walk he would unknowingly fantasize about the world outside of here, the holy knights, Sarah, the Imperial City, all the things that intrigued him, and before he knew it, he reached the pathway paved in between the forest. The estate can be clearly seen from Frei's perspective, the lavish exterior alongside the sheer scale of it, the countless chairs and the burnt logs piled on top of each other to make the campfire from yesterday.
Then he moved onwards towards the estate hoping he'd find Berg there. A moronic decision he thought. He suddenly paused right in the middle of the pathway, hesitating to move past this point onwards, memories of the beating flashed before his eyes and his body began to shake as a natural fearful response to the memories. "Fuck…" he murmured softly. He tried to stop himself from shaking by grabbing his hands but he couldn't halt what was forced upon him, the natural instincts of the human body.
He took a step either way despite the reaction of his body. Each step was excruciatingly hard for Frei, as each of the damaged muscles began throbbing in pain as he walked on the pathway, slowly approaching the estate and the 'cage', which was a place Frei's brain was yelling at him to not go. But he persisted, unsure of what he was going to do when he reached the estate, perhaps telling the master of the assault can cause him to feel sympathetic towards him and Berg, thus releasing both of them from punishment. He hoped because there was quite literally nothing else he could do.
Upon reaching there, the mansion's main entrance was unguarded, making it easy for anyone skilled to infiltrate the inside. Frei couldn't hear anything outside, not a single sound escaped the thick walls of the mansion. Frei, knowing the consequences, opened the door reluctantly and went inside the mansion.
Inside he was faced with a staircase, nestled beside a wall adorning a beautiful painting. The painting depicts a man dressed in a long black coat, sitting on a tiny stool, on the edge of a mountain, gazing into the distance at a pillar of light stretched from the ground to the skies. There were two corridors, one branching off to his left and the other on the right, both ends leading towards another hallway.
The mansion was eerily silent, lacking the usual bustling sounds of the maids preparing or the lively sounds of people living in a mansion as massive as this. The silence was so profound that if a needle were dropped, the sound would reverberate through the entire place, echoing throughout the mansion.
Frei walked cautiously, navigating through the mansion all the while minimizing the sounds he would make. He walked through the seemingly never ending corridor which had doors, each branching into a different section of the mansion.
He continued walking until he came upon a thick iron door, its frame nailed shut to the marble wall, and it had a dark-grim aura, reeking of blood contrasting the other radiant, lavish decors in the manshin. The frame was rusted around the hand-sized nut, it had a dark-grayish color. It didn't have a door knob, only a keyhole.
Frei peeped through the keyhole, hoping to find Berg before he got caught. All he found however was a dark dimly lit, eerie staircase, leading only downwards. Frei tried to open the door through the keyhole, using his pinky forcing it open, and to his surprise the door opened, showing a little gap between it and the marble wall. The gap was just big enough for Frei to slip right through smoothly.
Frei went down the eerie staircase and each step the eeriness only increased. Frei navigated through the cramped staircase, the light dimmed but it was bright enough to see where the staircase might lead. Soon, the staircase came to an abrupt halt, its descent ceased to a solid foundation of brick floor. Frei got used to the dim lights and when he had his final descent onto the brick floor he saw another door, this time not as visibly odd as the iron door above. The door was loosely closed, and upon opening the door.
Frei found Berg.
Chained to the wall. Blood all over his chest and body, his fingers wrapped in a blood-red bandage, its blood constantly dripping. Visible freshly opened wounds both cut and whipped were on Berg's body, with freshly dripping blood. Both of Berg's eyelids open, showing a blank dilated vacant pupil.
Then Frei heard a sound behind him, a loud banging sound, of Iron smashing onto another hard surface.