I Woke Up In Another World As A Slave

He rose from the puddle and attempted to cleanse himself, rubbing his hands vigorously and shaking his arms to rid himself of the muck. Cold sludge slid down his spine. He shivered, scraping it off quickly to keep his rags clean—or cleaner.

"You'll get dirty enough later. Move it!" Cadmun barked.

He reached for the sack, but as he grabbed it, he was pulled back and slipped. Clearly, it was far heavier than anticipated, leaving him once again mired in mud. He rose again, this time hoisting it with both hands. His arms, still sore from carrying wood, protested as he lifted the sack. He took a few short breaths. I can do this! Just like him!

He swung the sack overhead, bracing for its downward pull. With a heavy thump, it hit his back, tugging him backward. He withstood the weight but flinched at the pickaxes' sharp ends poking his shoulder blades. After regaining his composure, he let out a small, prideful:

"Whoa!"

Cadmun, observing him all the while, turned away silently and began walking towards the other men, signaling departure. Was that a smile I just saw?

He followed Cadmun with heavy steps to the shanties where the men lined up in two rows. He joined the end of the left row beside PP in the right row. His feet sank into muddy puddles under the pickaxes' weight. PP carried two sacks over each shoulder with ease, despite shackles on his wrists. The chain resting taut on his throat appeared not to trouble him. He could easily choke if someone pulled the sacks.

In that instant, PP turned with a menacing look. Oh no! He will kill me. He will definitely kill me. He heard everything. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I apologize for the disrespect!

"Stand upright."

What was that?

"Are you listening?" The big man's voice was surprisingly soft despite his hulking presence.

"I-, eh… what?"

"Stand upright. Don't slouch. The Adventurers have arrived."

Relieved he wouldn't be flattened by another sack of pickaxes, he hadn't expected such well-meant advice from the giant who'd ignored him until now. That was awfully nice of him.

Yet unease swirled in his stomach. Horses' galloping grew louder. Knowing the riders were Adventurers, he heeded PP's advice and straightened, the pickaxes taunting him to topple. PP turned away to face the incoming riders. Two knights in bright red armor commanded their horses to halt before the miners. Each carried a large shield in their left hand. One wielded a mace, the other a sword. They didn't get off their horses.

"Good morning," the mace bearer shouted, "slept well through the storm?"

Something was off in the way he spoke. What kind of question is that?

The old man with the scruffy beard replied: "We had to rebuild some tents come dawn, but as you can see, we're all duly present."

"Pity." The knight replied. "Maybe we can build some mud huts for you now. Those would hold up better, wouldn't you agree, Lord Blitz?"

It's odd how even the Adventurers call him Lord. Even if noble, he's their prisoner now. What's with that polite tone?

From the back of the row, he saw the old man's anger tremble. Yet the white-haired boy remained unmoved. The mace-wielding knight wore a farcical smile as the sword-bearer snickered. They're mocking us!

Cadmun, waiting by Varyan and his brother at the front, spoke: "Sir, all twenty-six of us are ready to move—"

A loud thud cut him short. The knight's mace struck Cadmun's head with brutal force, sending him collapsing to the ground.

"I don't remember you being called a Lord!" the knight shouted. His polite facade shattered instantly. Holy shit, these guys are psychopaths!

His legs reacted faster than his mind. He dropped the sack and rushed to the fallen body. "Cadmun!"

He sprinted down the corridor between slave rows as the knights noticed him.

"And who the fuck is this?"

He was nearly at the horses when an arm seized his torso, halting him. It was Varyan, his gaze warning him not to proceed.

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"A new arrival," Varyan explained to the knights. "He arrived extraordinarily during the night. As Cadmun was explaining, there are twenty-six of us here for no given reason."

The knights exchanged looks of disbelief. Scanning the slave rows for answers, the knights conferred.

The one with the mace started eyeing him from top to bottom. "There's nothing extraordinary about him."

"It doesn't look like anyone is hurt or ill. I don't think he planned for someone to be replaced," the Sword observed.

"I don't like this," said the Mace, "I don't like this at all."

"The Baron must have raised their quota," the one with the sword suggested.

"And what would that new quota be? What's today's goal? Shouldn't he brief us about this?"

"I don't know. But we won't achieve it by wasting time here. Let's move."

"Hold up! How is it that he can just decide things and not tell anybody? Nepo babies, man. You can't throw in one more slave and expect us to manage it every time." The knight with the mace began to get agitated.

It was as if they were both suddenly in their own world, far removed from the reality of the situation. What are they doing? What's with this pointless chatter? There's a man collapsed right in front of them! How can they be so indifferent?

"One more, one less, who the fuck cares? Let's go!" The Sword grew impatient.

"Wait a minute. I care! What if they don't have enough pickaxes? Is the twenty-sixth gonna sip tea?"

He couldn't take it any longer. "Hey!"

The knights turned towards him. They were not amused. He received a punch on his chest from Varyan.

What is wrong with you people? Why are you so cold?

He wanted to ask them. He wanted to confront them. But Varyan's punch subdued his impulses.

"You've got something to say, newcomer?" The way the Mace looked at him spelled trouble.

He couldn't utter a word.

"There are twenty-five pickaxes in total," a deep voice from the back of the row, PP, said. "I counted them today."

The Mace, satisfied with that response, turned back to the other one. "See? It was a thoughtlessly made decision! No plan, no communication whatsoever."

"Alright, what now?" The other asked. "We're late already."

The Mace took a moment to consider. "You take them to the mines. I'll bring baldy to the Slaughterhouse and come right after you."

At the mention of 'Slaughterhouse,' he felt Varyan beside him jolt slightly. Surely they don't mean an actual slaughterhouse? They wouldn't kill him. They can't!

"Are you dumb? What if mobs attack? I can't defend them all."

"Stay in front with the twins and put the big one in the back. He should be able to struggle long enough for me to catch up. Worst-case, we lose one, but have a replacement already here."

A low grumble rumbled through the slave rows.

The Sword wasn't fond of that idea either. "Fine, but make it quick."

The Mace reached into a saddlebag on his horse and produced a rope, which he tossed onto the ground.

"Tie him," he commanded the slaves.

No one stepped forward.

Varyan nudged him. "Cadmun had the God of Life's protection up."

So he wasn't hurt? Like Varyan's thumb?

"Move it!" the Mace barked.

"Go see for yourself," Varyan whispered.

He walked over to pick up the rope. Another slave assisted with turning Cadmun over. He pointed to the wrists where they tied the knot. He didn't see any blood or even a wound on Cadmun's head. What a relief! So he's just unconscious. Thank you, God of Life!

The slave handed the Mace the other end of the rope, which he secured to the saddle rings. What is he doing?

The Mace looked to the Sword. "I'm off now. You get going too."

The Sword nodded. "Don't forget to bring him back tomorrow. Let's move it, you vermin!"

Bring him back tomorrow?

Based on the way they talked about losing a slave before, he assumed that Cadmun couldn't be allowed to die, but it was reassuring to get confirmation that he would return. The Sword rode his way out of the shanty town, and the slaves began following him in an orderly fashion. He couldn't take his eyes off the Mace, who was checking his knot for the last time. He pulled the rope a couple of times to check everything. He clicked his tongue twice, and the horse began to move toward the hill. However, Cadmun was still on the ground. As the rope extended, it became clear what the Mace intended. That bastard!

Cadmun's unconscious body began being dragged through the mud behind the horse, and all he could think about was how the other slave immediately suggested tying the wrists. How often does this happen? Is this normal here? What kind of animals are they? No, what kind of animals do they think we are?

He ran to Cadmun in the hopes of untying him, but a heavy sack of pickaxes splashed into the mud, blocking his way.

"Don't drop it again," PP said as he passed him in an all too familiar fashion.

However, this time it felt like a warning. All he could do was watch as Cadmun's body and dignity were dragged through the dirt. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this!

Once again, the other slaves stepped in to show him that he overstepped. Varyan's words from this morning echoed in his head: 'Pull your weight at work, don't get in the way of the others, and always do what the Adventurers say. Especially the Baron.' So I should just accept this? How is that fair? Who is this Baron that even his subordinates hate?

He picked up the sack and nearly fell on his back again. This is so much lighter!

He checked inside and counted three pickaxes. If there are 25 pickaxes in five sacks, then why didn't PP distribute them equally? Wait… he did! The previous sack must have had more in it.

He looked after the big man. Two sacks seemed a bit fuller than the rest. So it wasn't my imagination. But what does that mean?

As he looked towards the far distance where Cadmun was being dragged on the ground somewhere behind the hill, a realization began to dawn on him. This was his reality. This was his world now. He was a slave crawling in the mud. But he was not alone. Even though these people were treated like animals by the Adventurers, or perhaps because of that, they shared meals and laughter together. They showed respect in what they believed in even if that was ridiculed by those above them. Here, at the very bottom of this world's society, they had to stick together. If no one else showed them dignity, they had to do so themselves. I'm sorry Cadmun, I will never disrespect Lord Blitz again. I'll make sure to mine the most diamonds to be first in line and get you a proper meal!

He swung the sack over his shoulder and followed the rest of the slaves towards the edge of the manor. And I'll find a way to get us all out of here!