AU Big Bang: The Prince's Slave Chapter 2
Title: The Prince’s Slave
Author: pterawaters
Fandom: Glee
Pairing(s): Kurt/Puck (main), Finn/Quinn, Kurt/Brittany, Finn/Rachel, Puck/Quinn, Santana/Brittany, Blaine/Karofsky, Burt/Carole, Will/Emma
Rating: R
Warning: Slavery, m/m and m/f sex, violence
Word Count: 41,000
Summary: As Prince Kurt’s sixteenth birthday approaches, all he really wants is a friend, someone who accepts his oddities and spends time with him anyway. He thought the answer was a slave, but got much more than he was looking for when he bought Noah Puckerman at auction.
Author’s Notes: Written for the au_bigbang . Thanks so much to ice_whisper for beta reading and rinnia for the awesome artwork!
Previous Chapter
Chapter 2
Kurt couldn’t believe his plan had worked, much less that his father had believed Kurt’s bluff about seducing Brother David. If there was anyone who could revolt Kurt just by looking at him, it was that man. Kurt would have liked to be able to say that his revulsion was due simply to Brother David’s heated glances and his sweaty appearance and the way his fat fingers ran up and down the spine of the holy book while Bishop Figgins gave the sermon.
No, it was the kiss that caused Kurt’s revulsion. The unwanted, unasked-for violation Brother David had pressed down on Kurt that one day in the bower. He had dared to attack a prince of the realm, and yet somehow, Kurt couldn’t report him. He couldn’t take the man’s life away simply because he was struggling with demons of his own. As sick as it was, Kurt felt some sort of camaraderie with his attacker, a sameness that made him keep his mouth shut and keep his distance from the monk.
Besides, the bastard might have stolen a kiss, but there was no way he would kill Kurt, the young and handsome, if stand-offish, Prince of Lima.
The next morning, William Schuester, Burt’s steward (and illegitimate brother, if rumor was to believed), knocked on Kurt’s door, a sharp decisive rapping that easily reached Kurt, who sat at his vanity table, finishing his preparations for the day ahead.
He’d been loath to do it, but Kurt dressed down for the event, wearing servants’ clothes with no house markings. Kurt hadn’t been able to keep his hands off his hair, however, making sure to style it perfectly, despite the fact that he would be hiding under a cloak. Kurt prayed that the summer morning wouldn’t be so warm that he’d go into a fit from heat exhaustion, but the cloak was the only way Kurt would be sure to hide his identity.
Taking one last look at himself in the mirror, Kurt stood and crossed his chamber, asking and waiting for Will’s name in the man’s own voice before opening the door. A Prince, whose father was both beloved and hated, could never be too careful. However, when he opened the door and found Will wearing a bright teal mask complete with sequins and feathers from the last masquerade Princess Quinn had thrown, Kurt almost choked on his own tongue. “Will, please tell me that’s not what you’re wearing!”
“Too much?” Will asked with a tiny grin, slipping the horrid accessory off and revealing a face that was just starting to show its age. In some ways, Will felt like another parent, especially after Kurt’s mother had died and all the help he’d provided during those dark days. In other ways, Will felt more like an older (much older) brother. Those were more often than not his days off, when he was more prone to using his sense of humor, telling jokes or doing funny little dances that he tried to get Kurt and Finn to emulate in the name of teaching them the ways of the world. Kurt knew what he was up to from the start, but found he didn’t mind playing along.
Lately the only time Kurt got along with his true brother was during those few hours once a week where Will updated them both on the state of the kingdom and explained why their father had made certain decisions, encouraging them to give their own opinions and have debates when their opinions differed. At one point, Kurt started making an effort to let Finn win a debate or two here and there, when he felt Finn getting too frustrated with him. Kurt knew it wasn’t in his brother’s best interest - hell, it wasn’t in the country’s best interest - but he couldn’t stand Finn acting like he hated him. It hurt too much.
“Yes,” Kurt agreed to Will’s query, taking a deep breath now that he knew Will wasn’t quite as stupid as he’d made himself out to be. “But that cloak will do nicely, I think. Who’s driving us into town?”
“I sent Brett for a coach about an hour ago,” Will replied, turning up his hood so his face was partially hidden in shadow. “So it should be here shortly. Brett said he knew of a driver we could trust, providing we could pay enough.”
Closing and locking his chamber doors behind him, Kurt asked, “How much did Father give you for today’s outing?” Kurt felt that guilty twisting in his gut when he realized once again he was buying a person today, but he ignored it. He deserved this. A year wasn’t too much to ask of a man that was facing the rest of his life beholden to another, was it? Kurt needed that year to feel like he wouldn’t always be this lonely, even if it was true. Even if it meant emptying his father’s coffers, Kurt would pay what it took for some companionship. Male companionship. Even if the slave was only his friend, that seemed to Kurt like it would be enough to make up for the loss of his brother to grown-up pursuits like running the country and being a husband and father.
Just one year to come to terms what the future had in store for Prince Kurt Hummel of Lima, and he hoped it would be enough.
“Barely enough,” Will sighed, hefting the purse at his belt before pushing it back behind his cloak. “Are you sure you want to go through with this? You know Burt doesn’t have that much money of his own. Most of the tax money goes back to the people in one way or another.”
“I know,” Kurt nodded, leading the way toward the side door near the stables, where Brett was sure to lead the coach. Kurt had been living with his father’s policies ever since he remembered. There had never been any doubt that the family was royal and they owned quite a bit of land, but Burt refused to spend any more money than they needed to keep up appearances, Kurt’s addiction to fine fabrics and the latest fashions notwithstanding. There was nothing left to say that hadn't already been said and argued over at length, so Kurt waited in silence, watching as the day grew brighter and hotter and as he started sweating uncomfortably in his cloak.
**88**
"I never thought my life would come to this," Noah overheard the pretty girl say softly to the dark-skinned girl, Mercedes. "My fathers didn't even give me up! I was stolen by the Bishop's men, but no one here believes me!"
"Girl, -" Mercedes sighed, rolling her eyes when the pretty girl interrupted with her name.
"Rachel." Noah recognized her name was from the holy book, just like his, and was even more convinced that she was part of The Tribe. But, that didn't mean he had to care about her story, right? Right.
"Why would the Bishop's men take you, Rachel?" Mercedes asked. "The Church are the good guys!"
"The Church didn't like the fact that after my mother left, my 'Uncle' Joseph became my Papa Joe, and that he and my Daddy Aaron love each other very much. The Church told me I was taken to punish them, since King Burt put an end to all those hangings they used to do instead." Rachel's tears fell freely now, her mouth in a torn grimace, and Noah felt for her a little. Mostly he was jealous because, as weird as it sounded, he would rather have two dads and no mother than a mom that sold him while she still had the chance.
"You were raised by pansies?" that irritating Jacob kid asked disdainfully and Noah almost got up to punch him for it.
Instead, another slave stood up, smoothed down his tunic and then grabbed Jacob by the collar. "Don't insult the lady's family, you louse. Whatever household you're from never taught you any manners, did they?"
"I..." Jacob replied, trying his best to pull his collar away from the older boy's grip.
"Just let him go, Jesse," Rachel sighed, frowning at Jacob like he was shit stuck to the bottom of her shoe. "He's not worth it."
"C'mon," the Jesse guy said, shoving Jacob away and throwing his arm around Rachel's shoulders. "Let's all sit here and pray that we get purchased by kind masters, and end up all together. Gods, we beseech thee-"
"That's not," Rachel sighed, blushing and pulling away from her friend. "That's not how I pray, Jesse! To think after what they did to me, you'd use the Church's words to comfort me! I've never-"
Needing this tirade to end before his headache got worse, Noah whistled sharply, meeting Rachel's eyes when she turned. Jerking his head to motion her over, Noah said, "I know our prayers, Princess."
"You're Tribe?" she asked with a bright smile, even more teeth showing when he nodded. Not that long ago, according to Noah's mother, it had been unwise to divulge one's tribal heritage for fear of persecution from the Church, but now under King Burt, Noah's people felt safe for the first time in hundreds of years and he hadn't even felt grateful for that fact until this moment.
Sparing one last look at Jesse, Rachel bounced over toward him and even though it was a pointless situation and there was only about an hour left before the auction was set to begin, Noah felt like he'd won something huge. Noah took the girl's hand, wondering if this was what his sister would look like in ten years' time, and closed his eyes. Noah began the prayer for lost souls in the language of his mothers, noticing when Rachel joined him, her voice strong and clear, her accent perfect. It had been so long since Noah’s father left and his nana passed away that he couldn't remember the second half of the prayer, stumbling through the words half a step behind the girl.
As she moved into the prayer of comfort and good health, Rachel squeezed Noah's hand firmly and for a few seconds too long. The gesture made Noah think that it would be nice if he and Rachel ended up in the same place when this was all over. It would be like having family around again. Except you couldn't even trust family as far as you could throw them.
The spell of peace his and Rachel's words had spread over the room fizzled away when the auction master's goons burst in. "Time to go, lads. Hey, you tribbies in the corner, knock it off and get over here!"
So maybe not all of the persecution was gone. Noah had heard the term “tribbie”, but had never had it directed at him before. He found he wasn’t fond of the experience.
Scowling, Noah stood up and shuffled after the rest of the god damned slaves, separated from Rachel almost right away. Out in the morning sun of the sales field, Noah was told to stand and, "Try not to scowl so much. It's bad for business."
"Like I could give a fuck about your business," Noah scoffed, wincing and stumbling when one of the auction attendants whacked the back of his knee with a stick, like he was a horse or something. He bit back another curse and silently continued his prayers, refusing to acknowledge any of the potential buyers that looked him over.
The field was a dirt courtyard between the building he’d been shoved into and what Noah quickly gathered was the auction house. Boys and men were lined up according to age, Noah guessed, on one end of the field, with girls and women on the other.
Maybe ten minutes in, Noah heard an indignant scream from the other end of the field, and thought he recognized Rachel’s voice. He turned to find the source of the commotion, finding Rachel held in place by two big men while a buyer lifted up her skirt to take a look underneath. Rage built up in Noah’s heart and he jumped out of line, scrambling halfway across the field after her before anyone noticed him move. Due to the shackles around his ankles, the guards caught him before he got to Rachel, so all he could do was cry, “Fucking keep your hands off her, you goyish bastard! Let her go!”
A devastating punch to the face sent Noah reeling and a man snarled, “Oh no you don’t.” After a sharp pain on the back of his head and a sheet of black dropping over his eyes, Noah passed out.
**88**
When the agent Will hired met them at the auction house doors, Kurt had his first inkling that this process wasn’t quite as civilized as he imagined it would be in his several months of research into the matter. The agent was thick, with a clean-shaven double chin and short black hair. The worst part, though, was his dress - from the too-tight short pants to the sloppy collar of his short-sleeved shirt and the pouch strapped around his considerable waist, the man was a walking fashion disaster.
“Hey, m’lord,” he said, sticking out one meaty paw toward Will. “Ken Tanaka. Like I told your messenger, just a two percent finder’s fee and I’ll help you find the best slave for your money. And, uh,” he stammered, “your needs. Speaking of, what exactly are you looking for?”
Will looked to Kurt, so the prince sighed and thought it over before saying, “Young. Around sixteen. Male. Um … I don’t really have any other requirements.”
Tanaka pulled a piece of parchment out of his waist-pouch and scanned through it. “We’ve got three boys that fit that description today. Two are Tribe, though, so we’ll focus on the other one.”
“No,” Kurt insisted, trying to understand why this man would automatically rule out someone because of their heritage. He thought prejudice was a nobleman’s vice that his father was trying to wipe out, not something a layman would indulge in as well. “No, I want to see all of them.”
Tanaka looked Kurt in the eyes for a long moment before nodding his pudgy face and saying, “Alright, then. Cover up and I’ll take you through the field and to one of the bunkhouses. You can talk to the slaves there and still preserve your identity, if you’d like.”
Kurt nodded. If he was going to have this companion for a year, he might as well talk to him first and make sure they got along before spending his father’s money on something that would never work out. Plus, he’d like to make sure the slave was amenable to his one-year plan before making his decision. He knew that since he’d hired Tanaka, the auction master would let Kurt have first dibs at whichever slave he wanted, without having to go through the whole auction process, because that was how Quinn’s mother Lady Judy had bought all her slaves.
They walked quickly through the auction house and out the back into a dirt-covered courtyard full of people. Shuffling feet had kicked dust up into the air and Kurt frowned at the way it settled on his clothes and on his tongue as he tried to breathe. Slaves were easy to identify by the dark numbers stained under their throats and the heavy shackles on their wrists, and for the larger children and adults, ankles. When he saw a toddler in tiny little handcuffs, Kurt stopped short, making Will run into his back. As he watched the girl clutch her doll close and stare up at the woman in front of her with wide, shiny eyes, Kurt couldn’t breathe. Who in their right mind would sell someone so young? Who would buy her?
Kurt almost said to hell with his plan and opened his mouth to ask Will to buy her instead, so Kurt could set her free and make sure she found a home with loving parents. That’s when he saw six more very young children, two on the girls’ side of the field and four on the boys’. Kurt’s limited supply of money wouldn’t fix this. Power and influence would. But if his father couldn’t stop this from happening, how could Kurt possibly set it right? The simple fact of who he was, of who he was truly attracted to, lost him some influence with the earls to begin with, but if he began the campaign at the ground, under a false name, would knowing what he knew about how the country ran be enough to stop this?
Sighing and swallowing the bile that had crept up into his throat, Kurt hurried to catch up with Tanaka, making sure the hood of his cloak continued to hide his identity. This close to the palace, there was always the chance that even in the absence of the ruling class, a layperson would recognize him. The risk was even greater for Will to be recognized, since he brokered deals with so many of the tradesmen in town, so Kurt turned back to make sure Will was taking precautions. His thoughts were interrupted by a scream.
One of the female slaves, a girl about Kurt’s age, struggled against her captors as two guards held her arms and a buyer lifted her skirt. “What in the gods’ good names?” Kurt cried, taking a step toward the crime until a scuffle nearby distracted him yet again.
A handsome, well-muscled boy in shackles pushed his way through the crowd, brushing right past Kurt as he bellowed, “Fucking keep your hands off her, you goyish bastard! Let her go!” in a strong, livid voice. He was trying to protect the girl’s dignity, wasn’t he? Kurt’s heart fluttering at the strength of the boy’s rebellion, he almost missed it when the auction master, a horrid man named Rod Remington, hit the slave on the back of the head with a soft bludgeon. The slave passed out and Kurt turned to Tanaka, pulling on the man’s sleeve to get his attention and then pointing to the boy in the dirt.
“I want him.”
Next Chapter
Author: pterawaters
Fandom: Glee
Pairing(s): Kurt/Puck (main), Finn/Quinn, Kurt/Brittany, Finn/Rachel, Puck/Quinn, Santana/Brittany, Blaine/Karofsky, Burt/Carole, Will/Emma
Rating: R
Warning: Slavery, m/m and m/f sex, violence
Word Count: 41,000
Summary: As Prince Kurt’s sixteenth birthday approaches, all he really wants is a friend, someone who accepts his oddities and spends time with him anyway. He thought the answer was a slave, but got much more than he was looking for when he bought Noah Puckerman at auction.
Author’s Notes: Written for the au_bigbang . Thanks so much to ice_whisper for beta reading and rinnia for the awesome artwork!
Previous Chapter
Chapter 2
Kurt couldn’t believe his plan had worked, much less that his father had believed Kurt’s bluff about seducing Brother David. If there was anyone who could revolt Kurt just by looking at him, it was that man. Kurt would have liked to be able to say that his revulsion was due simply to Brother David’s heated glances and his sweaty appearance and the way his fat fingers ran up and down the spine of the holy book while Bishop Figgins gave the sermon.
No, it was the kiss that caused Kurt’s revulsion. The unwanted, unasked-for violation Brother David had pressed down on Kurt that one day in the bower. He had dared to attack a prince of the realm, and yet somehow, Kurt couldn’t report him. He couldn’t take the man’s life away simply because he was struggling with demons of his own. As sick as it was, Kurt felt some sort of camaraderie with his attacker, a sameness that made him keep his mouth shut and keep his distance from the monk.
Besides, the bastard might have stolen a kiss, but there was no way he would kill Kurt, the young and handsome, if stand-offish, Prince of Lima.
The next morning, William Schuester, Burt’s steward (and illegitimate brother, if rumor was to believed), knocked on Kurt’s door, a sharp decisive rapping that easily reached Kurt, who sat at his vanity table, finishing his preparations for the day ahead.
He’d been loath to do it, but Kurt dressed down for the event, wearing servants’ clothes with no house markings. Kurt hadn’t been able to keep his hands off his hair, however, making sure to style it perfectly, despite the fact that he would be hiding under a cloak. Kurt prayed that the summer morning wouldn’t be so warm that he’d go into a fit from heat exhaustion, but the cloak was the only way Kurt would be sure to hide his identity.
Taking one last look at himself in the mirror, Kurt stood and crossed his chamber, asking and waiting for Will’s name in the man’s own voice before opening the door. A Prince, whose father was both beloved and hated, could never be too careful. However, when he opened the door and found Will wearing a bright teal mask complete with sequins and feathers from the last masquerade Princess Quinn had thrown, Kurt almost choked on his own tongue. “Will, please tell me that’s not what you’re wearing!”
“Too much?” Will asked with a tiny grin, slipping the horrid accessory off and revealing a face that was just starting to show its age. In some ways, Will felt like another parent, especially after Kurt’s mother had died and all the help he’d provided during those dark days. In other ways, Will felt more like an older (much older) brother. Those were more often than not his days off, when he was more prone to using his sense of humor, telling jokes or doing funny little dances that he tried to get Kurt and Finn to emulate in the name of teaching them the ways of the world. Kurt knew what he was up to from the start, but found he didn’t mind playing along.
Lately the only time Kurt got along with his true brother was during those few hours once a week where Will updated them both on the state of the kingdom and explained why their father had made certain decisions, encouraging them to give their own opinions and have debates when their opinions differed. At one point, Kurt started making an effort to let Finn win a debate or two here and there, when he felt Finn getting too frustrated with him. Kurt knew it wasn’t in his brother’s best interest - hell, it wasn’t in the country’s best interest - but he couldn’t stand Finn acting like he hated him. It hurt too much.
“Yes,” Kurt agreed to Will’s query, taking a deep breath now that he knew Will wasn’t quite as stupid as he’d made himself out to be. “But that cloak will do nicely, I think. Who’s driving us into town?”
“I sent Brett for a coach about an hour ago,” Will replied, turning up his hood so his face was partially hidden in shadow. “So it should be here shortly. Brett said he knew of a driver we could trust, providing we could pay enough.”
Closing and locking his chamber doors behind him, Kurt asked, “How much did Father give you for today’s outing?” Kurt felt that guilty twisting in his gut when he realized once again he was buying a person today, but he ignored it. He deserved this. A year wasn’t too much to ask of a man that was facing the rest of his life beholden to another, was it? Kurt needed that year to feel like he wouldn’t always be this lonely, even if it was true. Even if it meant emptying his father’s coffers, Kurt would pay what it took for some companionship. Male companionship. Even if the slave was only his friend, that seemed to Kurt like it would be enough to make up for the loss of his brother to grown-up pursuits like running the country and being a husband and father.
Just one year to come to terms what the future had in store for Prince Kurt Hummel of Lima, and he hoped it would be enough.
“Barely enough,” Will sighed, hefting the purse at his belt before pushing it back behind his cloak. “Are you sure you want to go through with this? You know Burt doesn’t have that much money of his own. Most of the tax money goes back to the people in one way or another.”
“I know,” Kurt nodded, leading the way toward the side door near the stables, where Brett was sure to lead the coach. Kurt had been living with his father’s policies ever since he remembered. There had never been any doubt that the family was royal and they owned quite a bit of land, but Burt refused to spend any more money than they needed to keep up appearances, Kurt’s addiction to fine fabrics and the latest fashions notwithstanding. There was nothing left to say that hadn't already been said and argued over at length, so Kurt waited in silence, watching as the day grew brighter and hotter and as he started sweating uncomfortably in his cloak.
**88**
"I never thought my life would come to this," Noah overheard the pretty girl say softly to the dark-skinned girl, Mercedes. "My fathers didn't even give me up! I was stolen by the Bishop's men, but no one here believes me!"
"Girl, -" Mercedes sighed, rolling her eyes when the pretty girl interrupted with her name.
"Rachel." Noah recognized her name was from the holy book, just like his, and was even more convinced that she was part of The Tribe. But, that didn't mean he had to care about her story, right? Right.
"Why would the Bishop's men take you, Rachel?" Mercedes asked. "The Church are the good guys!"
"The Church didn't like the fact that after my mother left, my 'Uncle' Joseph became my Papa Joe, and that he and my Daddy Aaron love each other very much. The Church told me I was taken to punish them, since King Burt put an end to all those hangings they used to do instead." Rachel's tears fell freely now, her mouth in a torn grimace, and Noah felt for her a little. Mostly he was jealous because, as weird as it sounded, he would rather have two dads and no mother than a mom that sold him while she still had the chance.
"You were raised by pansies?" that irritating Jacob kid asked disdainfully and Noah almost got up to punch him for it.
Instead, another slave stood up, smoothed down his tunic and then grabbed Jacob by the collar. "Don't insult the lady's family, you louse. Whatever household you're from never taught you any manners, did they?"
"I..." Jacob replied, trying his best to pull his collar away from the older boy's grip.
"Just let him go, Jesse," Rachel sighed, frowning at Jacob like he was shit stuck to the bottom of her shoe. "He's not worth it."
"C'mon," the Jesse guy said, shoving Jacob away and throwing his arm around Rachel's shoulders. "Let's all sit here and pray that we get purchased by kind masters, and end up all together. Gods, we beseech thee-"
"That's not," Rachel sighed, blushing and pulling away from her friend. "That's not how I pray, Jesse! To think after what they did to me, you'd use the Church's words to comfort me! I've never-"
Needing this tirade to end before his headache got worse, Noah whistled sharply, meeting Rachel's eyes when she turned. Jerking his head to motion her over, Noah said, "I know our prayers, Princess."
"You're Tribe?" she asked with a bright smile, even more teeth showing when he nodded. Not that long ago, according to Noah's mother, it had been unwise to divulge one's tribal heritage for fear of persecution from the Church, but now under King Burt, Noah's people felt safe for the first time in hundreds of years and he hadn't even felt grateful for that fact until this moment.
Sparing one last look at Jesse, Rachel bounced over toward him and even though it was a pointless situation and there was only about an hour left before the auction was set to begin, Noah felt like he'd won something huge. Noah took the girl's hand, wondering if this was what his sister would look like in ten years' time, and closed his eyes. Noah began the prayer for lost souls in the language of his mothers, noticing when Rachel joined him, her voice strong and clear, her accent perfect. It had been so long since Noah’s father left and his nana passed away that he couldn't remember the second half of the prayer, stumbling through the words half a step behind the girl.
As she moved into the prayer of comfort and good health, Rachel squeezed Noah's hand firmly and for a few seconds too long. The gesture made Noah think that it would be nice if he and Rachel ended up in the same place when this was all over. It would be like having family around again. Except you couldn't even trust family as far as you could throw them.
The spell of peace his and Rachel's words had spread over the room fizzled away when the auction master's goons burst in. "Time to go, lads. Hey, you tribbies in the corner, knock it off and get over here!"
So maybe not all of the persecution was gone. Noah had heard the term “tribbie”, but had never had it directed at him before. He found he wasn’t fond of the experience.
Scowling, Noah stood up and shuffled after the rest of the god damned slaves, separated from Rachel almost right away. Out in the morning sun of the sales field, Noah was told to stand and, "Try not to scowl so much. It's bad for business."
"Like I could give a fuck about your business," Noah scoffed, wincing and stumbling when one of the auction attendants whacked the back of his knee with a stick, like he was a horse or something. He bit back another curse and silently continued his prayers, refusing to acknowledge any of the potential buyers that looked him over.
The field was a dirt courtyard between the building he’d been shoved into and what Noah quickly gathered was the auction house. Boys and men were lined up according to age, Noah guessed, on one end of the field, with girls and women on the other.
Maybe ten minutes in, Noah heard an indignant scream from the other end of the field, and thought he recognized Rachel’s voice. He turned to find the source of the commotion, finding Rachel held in place by two big men while a buyer lifted up her skirt to take a look underneath. Rage built up in Noah’s heart and he jumped out of line, scrambling halfway across the field after her before anyone noticed him move. Due to the shackles around his ankles, the guards caught him before he got to Rachel, so all he could do was cry, “Fucking keep your hands off her, you goyish bastard! Let her go!”
A devastating punch to the face sent Noah reeling and a man snarled, “Oh no you don’t.” After a sharp pain on the back of his head and a sheet of black dropping over his eyes, Noah passed out.
**88**
When the agent Will hired met them at the auction house doors, Kurt had his first inkling that this process wasn’t quite as civilized as he imagined it would be in his several months of research into the matter. The agent was thick, with a clean-shaven double chin and short black hair. The worst part, though, was his dress - from the too-tight short pants to the sloppy collar of his short-sleeved shirt and the pouch strapped around his considerable waist, the man was a walking fashion disaster.
“Hey, m’lord,” he said, sticking out one meaty paw toward Will. “Ken Tanaka. Like I told your messenger, just a two percent finder’s fee and I’ll help you find the best slave for your money. And, uh,” he stammered, “your needs. Speaking of, what exactly are you looking for?”
Will looked to Kurt, so the prince sighed and thought it over before saying, “Young. Around sixteen. Male. Um … I don’t really have any other requirements.”
Tanaka pulled a piece of parchment out of his waist-pouch and scanned through it. “We’ve got three boys that fit that description today. Two are Tribe, though, so we’ll focus on the other one.”
“No,” Kurt insisted, trying to understand why this man would automatically rule out someone because of their heritage. He thought prejudice was a nobleman’s vice that his father was trying to wipe out, not something a layman would indulge in as well. “No, I want to see all of them.”
Tanaka looked Kurt in the eyes for a long moment before nodding his pudgy face and saying, “Alright, then. Cover up and I’ll take you through the field and to one of the bunkhouses. You can talk to the slaves there and still preserve your identity, if you’d like.”
Kurt nodded. If he was going to have this companion for a year, he might as well talk to him first and make sure they got along before spending his father’s money on something that would never work out. Plus, he’d like to make sure the slave was amenable to his one-year plan before making his decision. He knew that since he’d hired Tanaka, the auction master would let Kurt have first dibs at whichever slave he wanted, without having to go through the whole auction process, because that was how Quinn’s mother Lady Judy had bought all her slaves.
They walked quickly through the auction house and out the back into a dirt-covered courtyard full of people. Shuffling feet had kicked dust up into the air and Kurt frowned at the way it settled on his clothes and on his tongue as he tried to breathe. Slaves were easy to identify by the dark numbers stained under their throats and the heavy shackles on their wrists, and for the larger children and adults, ankles. When he saw a toddler in tiny little handcuffs, Kurt stopped short, making Will run into his back. As he watched the girl clutch her doll close and stare up at the woman in front of her with wide, shiny eyes, Kurt couldn’t breathe. Who in their right mind would sell someone so young? Who would buy her?
Kurt almost said to hell with his plan and opened his mouth to ask Will to buy her instead, so Kurt could set her free and make sure she found a home with loving parents. That’s when he saw six more very young children, two on the girls’ side of the field and four on the boys’. Kurt’s limited supply of money wouldn’t fix this. Power and influence would. But if his father couldn’t stop this from happening, how could Kurt possibly set it right? The simple fact of who he was, of who he was truly attracted to, lost him some influence with the earls to begin with, but if he began the campaign at the ground, under a false name, would knowing what he knew about how the country ran be enough to stop this?
Sighing and swallowing the bile that had crept up into his throat, Kurt hurried to catch up with Tanaka, making sure the hood of his cloak continued to hide his identity. This close to the palace, there was always the chance that even in the absence of the ruling class, a layperson would recognize him. The risk was even greater for Will to be recognized, since he brokered deals with so many of the tradesmen in town, so Kurt turned back to make sure Will was taking precautions. His thoughts were interrupted by a scream.
One of the female slaves, a girl about Kurt’s age, struggled against her captors as two guards held her arms and a buyer lifted her skirt. “What in the gods’ good names?” Kurt cried, taking a step toward the crime until a scuffle nearby distracted him yet again.
A handsome, well-muscled boy in shackles pushed his way through the crowd, brushing right past Kurt as he bellowed, “Fucking keep your hands off her, you goyish bastard! Let her go!” in a strong, livid voice. He was trying to protect the girl’s dignity, wasn’t he? Kurt’s heart fluttering at the strength of the boy’s rebellion, he almost missed it when the auction master, a horrid man named Rod Remington, hit the slave on the back of the head with a soft bludgeon. The slave passed out and Kurt turned to Tanaka, pulling on the man’s sleeve to get his attention and then pointing to the boy in the dirt.
“I want him.”
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