Don’t Take Life Too Seriously; Finefare Fair Might be a Fairly Fair Fair

We were on the road to Finfare Harbor, a port city in the illustrious nation of Alocast. After the guard incident, Asal Alaba declared me fully recovered, or at least fully recovered enough, and wasted no time arranging transport to this second location. That’s not hyperbole either; within hours, there was an actual bus pulling in front of the inn.

Yes, I said “bus,” and I do mean “bus.” Perhaps not as fancy as anything from my first world—there’s a pun for you—but an honest to the God of Clear Skies self-propelled high-capacity passenger vehicle. I almost geeked out despite myself. But I pulled short. A slave needed to be properly morose. It would be unbecoming to be anything but.

That said, the fact a vehicle had appeared, unpowered by beasts of burden, dispelled my medieval notion of the world. This development would put them at least into the steam-powered era—I didn’t see a steam stack though. I would have crawled around its innards, examining it, but being a thrall came with drawbacks. Mainly, a shackle that didn’t allow for much in the way of free movement.

So far, my host had been nothing but forthcoming, so once more I ventured to partake in his generous insights. “Oh yes! You are quite right! The auto-carriage is quite the remarkable invention, though I do say this one might be a bit too big to still be called a carriage.” Asal Alaba paused, putting a finger to his lips, “The technology has been around for some time, but only recently, with the new method for harvesting ikour, has it become a practical form of transportation.” As always, Asal Alaba's speech came in animated, wide-sweeping gestures.

“Ikour?” It occurred to me that I had heard this word before.

“Yes, indeed!” Asal seized the opportunity to continue hearing himself talk. “The world is apparently full of ikour, but only within the last 15 years has a practical way of extracting it become known.”

The merchant Muhn Boro had mentioned the Mystical Forest was high in ikour, but the Elder’s rare ill-mood at the topic had driven it from the conversation.

At any rate, I soon got a better look at the “auto-carriage” when “invited” inside. While the outside resembled a Model T version of a bus, the inside was more like the trailer of a semi-truck. There were windows… Well, more like open-air slats. And the floor was just hardwood. The only seat was a bench for the driver, the wooden seat sure to leave him with a sore ass.

Speaking of driver, the controls for this vehicle resembled a ship more than a car. It had a small helm-like wheel and a lever with a grip release, which I learned later was used to control the speed.

As expected, traveling in a first-generation automobile had all the comfort of a Radio Flyer wagon, and the distance between Atol and Alocast had to be at least 1500 miles. It was an unpleasant ride for my compatriots and me, as slaves were afforded no padding for the bare floor other than what your posterior could provide.

Asal Alaba spared himself this hardship—at least I assumed so. He travelled in a separate vehicle following close behind, and I imagined he arranged for more comfortable accommodations.

Well, perhaps I shouldn’t complain. For slaves, I suppose we were being treated well enough. It was certainly first-class treatment compared to the slave ships that crossed the Atlantic. We got food that passed for palatable, got to shit outside... Heck, we even got to bathe! Well, sort of… We could stand in the rain and wash off the worst of the stink. As most of the journey passed through the Raincaster region, we could bathe daily, whether we wanted to or not.

But the clearest sign Asal Alaba wasn’t a complete monster was the condition of my fellow slaves. Even under scrutiny, you could see they were well tended, at least physically; some had suffered severe psychic damage during the enslavement process. Even I was a basket of rainbows compared to the worst of the lot. I wouldn’t consider myself emotionally resilient, and I can’t imagine much worse than what happened at the Two Trees. What had they gone through? Or perhaps I was protected by the buff I had received when I realized the Cosmic GM was a jerk.

It also appeared there was no value in younger children, as there were none among us… Well, present company excluded. In fact, he mostly dealt in adults. I might not have noticed, if not for the handful of adolescent girls present. They seemed… better cared for than the rest, and their appearance had been given some attention. They had proper haircuts, for instance. Upon second thought, perhaps Asal Alaba wasn’t such an upstanding slaver as I originally gave him credit for.

If this was all there was to the 10-day slog cross country, the only pastime would have been bemoaning my aching hindquarters. However, the Raincaster region provided no shortage of travails in the form of rain—go figure—and grelmhiem. As part of the cargo, it didn’t fall on me to handle these issues, but it was amusing to watch.

The rain was least problematic and only a complication when it made an area unpassable, at least for a wheeled contraption. But this was rare, as most of the road was actually paved! Nothing too fancy, mostly cobblestones. With enough time and effort, it wouldn’t pass for a technological marvel. Still, left you wondering how they managed it, considering the second issue.

The grelmhiem were inhospitable hosts. They could be assumed hostile on sight, without exception, not that we ever attempted to parley with them. The Raincaster region was their home and one could expect to have run-ins with them daily. Scouts were sent ahead to detect traps—a handful were uncovered—and to detect ambushes, which were more common.

These ambushes were ineffective, as the scouts usually triggered their assault prematurely and it seemed they had little experience dealing with motorized vehicles. As for the main convoy, upon receiving word, we threw up the slats to protect from projectiles and the driver would slide up a steel plate with a slit to see through and throw the bus into full throttle. Somehow, I had missed it upon first inspection, but the front of the bus had the equivalent of a cowcatcher, and it made short work of any grelmhiem with the stones to stand their ground. Needless to say, a speed bump was the worst we suffered.

The most dangerous part of the journey was stopping because of road damage. It didn’t take a genius to recognize grelmhiem sabotage, and the only surprising thing was we didn’t encounter it more often. But this too was accounted for.

Asal Alaba had enlisted the help of “mages” for lack of a better term, specializing in road construction, usually taking no longer than an hour to fix. I longed to observe them more carefully, but this was one time when leaving the bus was absolutely prohibited, and for good reason.

Obviously, road destruction was a better ambush strategy than standing in the road like a band of highway protesters; so the ambush had to be dealt with. The outriders ensured the immediate vicinity was clear of any grelmhiem, and once the caravan had stopped, a group of people, referred to as “adventures,” would jump out and build a defensive perimeter using those glowing symbols that hung in the air.

Perhaps the Raincaster denizens would have been more of a problem if not for these preemptive measures. They looked mean enough: long-limbed with wiry muscle at around 6 and a half feet, black eyes with contrasting bright irises. What really distinguished them were the numerous horns sprouting over their heads, almost like a spiky haircut. They protruded sporadically from their body as well.

However, the erected barriers were a marvel, allowing projectiles and “spells” to exit but not enter. The smarter ambush parties would take the hint and retreat. Those less prudent would receive Darwin’s best.

So, despite a sore rump, my brain was sufficiently stimulated. Between these random events, I was content to contemplate my predicament and plan potential escape opportunities. Perhaps I could have slipped away when we were let out to relieve ourselves, though the shackles would have made it difficult. Regardless, with the grelmhiem out there and no ability to defend myself, I wouldn’t have risked it, restraints or not. Of course, I was to be sold off, so my future enslavers might have more lax security, but of course, it could also go the other way.

Once we left the Raincaster region and entered Alocast, most of the support staff parted ways. Only the driver and a couple of mages stuck around until we dropped off the bulk of my fellow captives, leaving only me. With this, our caravan was all but dissolved with only the small auto-carriage occupied by Asal Alaba, his driver, and now me.

Now that we were in Alocast, Asal Alaba assured me we were quite safe, which he explained at length. Apparently, you would be hard-pressed to find a bandit in this most civilized nation, as any report of highway robbery was swiftly investigated, and any perpetrators summarily hanged. This was a recent reform, as previously they were drawn and quartered, a reform of which Asal disapproved. Bandits were one of the few topics he spoke about with real vitriol. It seemed only things that reduced his profits could rebuff his jovial mood.

Therefore, escaping would “most certainly” earn his ire and was only more reason to escape under his enslavement. Our trek through Alocast seemed my best shot. The guards were gone and the only two people to contend with would be the driver and Asal. With his openness, you might think he took me lightly. Perhaps true to a degree, but not so much that he would leave me un-manacled to the carriage at all times unless I needed to relieve myself; naturally, he kept an eye on me, so my only hope would be to outrun him, but even in his pampered state, I doubt I would get far. I was still wearing shackles, after all.

I could have tried attacking him, but Asal Alaba carried no weapons to swipe, and I probably couldn't have bludgeoned him to death with my fist—he was much bigger and presumably stronger—and I couldn’t imagine the driver would stand by and let his employer get assaulted.

So, what did that leave me? Nothing. Sometimes you just have to accept that you got dealt a shit hand and hope for better luck next time. You need to know when to hold and know when to fold. At least my ass didn’t hurt for the last leg of the trip.

The Finfare Fair, merely a fairly fair fair to my senses, thought Asal Alaba declared it to be among the fairest of the fairs anywhere. Of course, I was using the fair standard of the first world fairs, so I would take his word that the Finfare Fair placed fairest of the fairs.

Why was the Finfare Fair so fair? I am no authority. However, from the way Asal Alaba talked, he thought he was. So I will rehash what he told me. Finfare Harbor was one of, if not the most important of the Alocast ports. Alocast was the most influential nation in the world—though the hozenlo would disagree—and therefore Finfare Harbor was the greatest port city in existence… in this world at least.

That’s all well and grand, but what does that have to do with the fair? Well, some of the most important goods, services, knowledge, and discovery come through these ports. Some years ago, an enterprising noble had the idea of showcasing some of the more incredible things to pass through these docks. As word got out, scholars, collectors, nobles, explorers, merchants, and people with nothing better to do began making the pilgrimage to see and showcase their marvels. It only grew from there. Present day you would find many wonderous things on display and available for purchase; hence why we were here.

The fair itself was an open-air event, with tents and tarps set up to protect from inclement weather. If you picture a carnival but covering more real estate, you get a fairly good image.

Among the curiosity, one could find strange beasts, wondrous devices running the gamut of sizes, and strange artifacts—they looked pilfered from an alien King Tut’s tomb. There was also no shortage of explorers shouting their bona fides backed by booths lined with sketches of novelties they claimed to have discovered and would bring back if only some wise patron would fund their expeditions. Seemed dubious, but perhaps I was jaded.

As for myself, I had the high honor of being an attraction at this fairest of fairs, and unlike most of the living spectacles, I got the dignity of remaining uncaged. However, I was shackled to a grounded anchor. I suppose I should count myself lucky.

Upon arriving, the rain fell in a gray gloom and made for a muddy welcome. I didn’t complain when Asal Alaba proved to be more averse to mud than me, and we spent that first day inside a dry and muck-free tent. However, it has been nothing but sunshine ever since, and the next day it was off to the races.

The fair runs for a week—11 days by human conventions—but we were only present for the final four, and the first day was a bust. So I only had to suffer the indignity of the gawkers’ molestations for three days. I nearly bit a man’s finger off when he tried to stick it in my mouth; a man has to draw the line somewhere.

A surge ran through my body, sending every synapse firing at once, leaving me spasming like a landed bass. For two seconds, my body flailed outside my control—it felt like much longer—after which I couldn’t even twitch a muscle, a consequence of all my ATP getting burned off in one instance; my mitochondria would have their work cut out for them. I might have pissed myself a little as well, but in this heat, it would soon evaporate. It turned out that this collar more than just prevented fox magic, but could also administer enough electric charge to put a bothersome child into a coma.

I experienced the shock several more times, as I am apparently a slow learner, but at least I ascertained that Asal Alaba used some kind of remote to activate it, so I supposed that was worth a few frothings. Eventually, I wised up enough to suffer the humans’ prodding with silent loathing.

Or would have if Asal hadn’t insisted on demonstrating my ability to speak Caster. This tickled some people, but most were just impressed to see a yutsuukitsuu. Turned out the yutsuukitsuu are a fairly obscure race and more than a few had never heard of them.

“It’s pretty cute that you put clothes on ‘em,” one lady remarked. “It’s almost like he’s a person.”

“Excuse me, ma’am,” I said, remembering to be polite. “But I do believe you may have stepped in some dog shit.”

She staggered back, face paling and staring slack-jawed while mumbling, “…it talks,” before remembering her shoes were in peril. She furrowed her brow when they came up clean.

“Oh… I’m sorry. I guess it was just you.” That earned me a good shocking. Don’t know what came of the lady, as she was gone when I came to.

On the fourth day, a well-dressed man and his daughter drifted to Asal Alaba’s stall. They were far from the first posh visitors, but you could tell by the cut of their clothes these were some high-ranking people, nobility to be sure.

“How Spectacular!” Asal Alaba started. “I am so delighted to have one of your station visit this humble merchant.”

“Indeed,” the noble responded with a confidence that went well past arrogance. “I make a point to visit the last day of the fair for the auction, in case anything worth acquiring presents itself.” He looked down over his nose at me before redirecting back to Asal. “Though regardless, I find the fair amusing, at the very least.”

I may have been more inclined to critique his manner if not for the child accompanying him, a red-haired girl with a short ponytail and noteworthy bangs. What unsettled me, though, was how her plump face stared at me through intense green eyes. I had seen that same intensity in Dawn’s gaze on specific occasions.

“Most certainly! Finfare Fair has the most magnificent sights to be sure!” There were Asal’s over-the-top exclamations again.

“Indeed. I was told there was something over here I should be certain to see before the auction.” His gaze bounced back to me. “I have certainly never...” He put a bent finger to the corner of his mouth. “What were they called again?”

“The yutsuukitsuu! They are a most elusive species! Most elusive, indeed!” Asal continued crowing his sales pitch.

“Yes, the yutsuukitsuu. I have heard of them, but I must confess to being uninformed. I see that you have dressed him. Tell me, are they at all civilized creatures?”

“Oh, more civilized than you might think!” Asal Alaba turned to me. “Go ahead, tell him of the yutsuukitsuu!” Yes, yes. Dance for the man like the trained monkey you are.

I cast him a sideways glare. “What would you have me tell him?”

“Oh, you can speak our language?” The noble eyes widened, but he soon recovered his statuesque pretentiousness. “I wouldn’t think your kind spoke the human tongue.”

“Most of us don’t...”

“That’s right!” Asal Alaba cut in. “It is quite rare to find one so fluent in Caster! Quite rare indeed! You won’t be likely to find another anywhere!” He lowered his tone. “Between you and me, I had a most difficult time acquiring this one. I doubt you will come by another again. If you are interested, I hope you won’t miss your chance to place a bid.”

“I see. So he will be on today’s auction?” He stroked his short beard. “He is certainly a curiosity, but I cannot imagine I would...”

“Can we get him!?” That red-haired girl had hit critical mass, running up and grabbing me like a long-lost lover.

A momentary flash of panic came over Asal’s face—did he think I would do something unbecoming—as the noble looked on with the long-suffering visage of fathers everywhere. Personally, I was unsure how to react to this development other than to stand stiff-lipped and rigid.

“Amillia,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Don’t you have enough to entertain you?”

“NO! I want him!” She shouted, putting her girth between us.

“You know we can’t always get what we want.”

“Yes, but...” As bratty as she seemed, her tone indicated his capitulation wasn’t certain.

“Amillia, what do we say about ‘buts’?” He said, tugging the brim of his top hat.

“They lose arguments...” I almost felt bad for her as she cast her gloomy eyes to the ground. For his part, Asal Alaba also looked gloomy. But then, “He can be my 11th birthday present!”

Sighing, he rubbed his forehead. “But you just had your 10th birthday.”

“Yeah, bu—” she stopped herself. “Nobody cares about a 10th birthday!” She stated, which seemed strange to me. “Also, ‘buts’ lose arguments.”

It appeared he would object before Amillia delivered her last quip, but he smirked despite himself. “Well, I suppose this might be an opportunity for you to learn some responsibility.” His look hardened. “It will be your responsibility to ensure he is taken care of. I don’t want you bothering me or your mother.”

“No, I won’t!” she replied with an extra squeeze.

“Or your sister.”

“I won’t let her have him!” She asserted.

I felt like a dog. Certainly, I deserved more respect than this, even if I was a slave.

“Sigh, very well.” He turned to Asal Alaba, who had brightened considerably. “House Uvald will be putting in a bid Mr...?” He prompted.

“Asal Alaba, at your service!” He glowed. Truly, making a sale must be a merchant’s greatest pleasure.

“I will call him Sir Olavir!” Amillia declared

A wave of indignation came over me. Did she just drop a name of her choosing onto me? True, I had never given my name. Never been asked for that matter, and I don’t think I would have given it, regardless; it felt sacred to me somehow. Still, being given a name felt like another form of subjugation.

He let out another sigh. “Just Olavir will do.”

“Pardon my interruption. Did you say House Uvald? As in THAT Uvald?”

“Yes, I am Lord Conroy of House Uvald.” Asal almost passed out, as Conroy pried his daughter off me and disappeared through the crowd.