They wound down the hallways. It wasn't at all long until Frost had completely lost track of where he was going, but the office ended up being closer to the slaves quarters than he'd have thought. If asked to trace the path, though, he would've shrugged. His mental state was too far gone to create a map in his mind. His hands still dripped with blood, clutching the diamond to his chest like it was a newborn baby.
"I don't blame you," The master was saying. "In fact, I won't even punish you for it. No. You were defending your livelihood. I'd have done the same, lad."
Frost's ears were ringing, so he questioned if he was hearing those words correctly. He wouldn't be punished for killing another slave…? The size of the diamond was probably large enough to fetch a higher price than a man was worth, anyways. He didn't say anything in response. He wouldn't speak unless spoken to. That was the way to survive around here.
"You two wait outside," The master said when they arrived at an ornate door. It was the kind of door that had to lead to something important, practically glowing.
"Yes Master Richmond," one of the guards said. It was the guard that had given the speech on Frost's first day. He gave Frost a knowing smile before him and the other man took their stations on either side of the door. Meanwhile, Richmond opened the door and gestured for Frost to step inside.
It was an office, and a particularly mundane one at that. Back on Earth, the professor's offices were usually well decorated. There were two types of offices, the ones that were lived in and filled with stuff, and the ones that were nearly empty and clearly cared for very little by their owner. When it was the latter, the owner was never a person that enjoyed their work. They were someone that wanted to be in the office as little as possible. That was Richmond. The office had nothing at all in it almost to a remarkable degree. A mostly empty bookshelf and a desk with a ledger, quill, and a few folders.
A quill? Frost thought. Someone this rich using a quill?It must be true then… That this is some sort of medieval land.
"What's your number again, white hair?" The master asked. He closed the door behind himself and crossed to the other side of the desk. There was a chair on each side, but Richmond's had clearly seen much more use. Sitting someone so large upon such a tiny thing… Frost almost felt bad for the chair.
"My name is Frost Direshard," Frost said. The words leaving his lips caused him a sensation not entirely unlike knowing you picked the wrong dialogue option in a video game. Of course he was aware of this even in the moment before he spoke it. He had gained the privilege to speak to this tyrant one on one, and he'd be damned if he didn't use that privilege to the upper limits. This last month had been spent repressing these feelings. Now was the time to let loose.
[Checkpointer20: Your stupidity knows no bounds.]
The power of the silence that transpired after those words left his lips could have moved mountains. Frost sat down in the seat before him and set the diamond upon the desk without an ounce of care. Richmond stood still, eying him with his jaw unhinged ever so slightly. Frost pretended not to notice, looking around the office like something interesting would magically appear.
"Excuse me?" Richmond asked.
"Hmm? I said my name is Frost Direshard."
A clock on the wall ticked the seconds by. Richmond stared at Frost with the dead eyes of a morally bankrupt man. Years of forcing slaves to mine diamonds and make him rich. Life must have been easy. This man wasn't used to competition, let alone from a slave with a mouth too big for his own good.
"You don't have a name, slave. Tell me your number." He tried to use a more forceful voice as if that would suddenly make Frost obey. It made the white-haired boy reminisce on the days of his childhood, in the office being lectured by the headmaster of the orphanage. He wasn't used to being right about the thing he was receiving the lecture for.
"I do have a name," Frost insisted, "and I'm not a slave. Those bastards that sold me didn't even own me in the first place. Tell me their names."
[Checkpointer20: Are my messages even going through!?]
[Checkpointer20: If you'd just waited, things would've been fine!]
[Checkpointer20: You're going to die at this rate. You know that, right?]
[GreatGadfly30: Ten drachma says he doesn't listen.]
[Checkpointer20: That's a losing bet and you know it, you ugly bastard.]
[GreatGadfly30: I fail to see how my good looks are relevant here.]
Frost watched them argue for a while while Richmond considered his words. Eventually he just sat back in his chair and opened his ledger. "Sixty-three. The second newest. You're the only one with that ridiculous hair, so it's easy to tell. You took the place of the guard standing outside as we speak–" He grabbed the diamond and shifted it to the side, removing the only thing between the two of them other than the desk. "Listen, boy. I wouldn't believe an excuse like that even if it happened to be true. I paid for you. You understand? Coins. Cold, hard, coins. I don't give a fuck if they owned you or not. I own you now."
"You make those coins from honest work?" Frost asked. He was ready for any excuse this man might make. He'd spent the last month obsessing over how this conversation might go.
"Excuse me?"
"I asked you if you made any of those coins yourself?" Frost stood up and slammed his chair into the wall quite noisily. "Did you make those coins by toiling out on the fields perhaps? Did you make them lifting the pickaxe with your own strength?" Two steps back, he flipped the lock on the door. Richmond seemed so fixated on the power of his words that he didn't even notice.
This man was equally at fault compared to the men that sold him. He'd foolishly given Frost a chance to kill him, and Frost would take it.
"So what?" Richmond asked. The pudgy man threw his hands in the air sarcastically. "I came out to reward you for your hard work, and this is how you speak to me? I can help you, boy. Stop looking at me like you're hungry. It isn't good business. Let's start from the beginning and talk this out." He chuckled lightly
"Why would I negotiate with a slaver? Tell me their names." Men like this were good at talking. Good at talking was all they were. This wasn't his first time in this situation and it wouldn't be his last. Richmond was a rich boy, looked like one and talked like one. On Earth, he robbed people like this if he caught them walking alone.
"I'll keep it frank. You seem like a boy that has no interest for beating around the bush." He withdrew a bottle of deep purple wine and two cups from a cupboard. "I honestly appreciate it. Business men are always so strange. They always want to fuck, but they seem to have an allergy to just saying it, you know? It's exhausting. It really is." He set the two cups on the table and poured wine. "I do hope you don't mind if I indulge in one business formality. Ho ho. It's my favourite one." He tugged at the end of his grey moustache and winked at Frost before lifting a cup to his lips.
"I don't want your formalities. I want you to set me free and tell me their fucking names!" Frost felt like he was speaking to a brick wall. He slammed his fist into the desk and it gyrated briefly before going still.
Richmond held the wine cup in front of his lips and considered that for a long while. "I know that. That's what they all want. I can't do that," he eventually said. "I would have. But… Well. That diamond is only worth enough to pay for one man, you see–"
"Really?" Frost stared his enemy in the face. "A different question, then. How much is your life worth?"
A flash of silver was visible for a split second as Richmond drew his weapon with all of the practised efficiency of a man who was used to shooting people, perhaps more so than any man should be. "I'm not trapped in here with you, boy." The six-shooter glistened vibrantly, perfectly polished and rimmed with gold like his cane was. He cocked it back, training the sights directly on Frost's forehead. "Sit down."
Frost lightly put his arms in the air to make it clear he wasn't taking the threat seriously. Nonetheless he sat down with haste. He didn't believe that Richmond would shoot him, but he also didn't want to get shot. They have guns here? This was the other prevailing thought. "Why are you entertaining this at all, then? You brought me here… Why?" He asked.
"Because I have a proposition for you, kid. Maybe the best deal you've had in your life." He set the gun down on the table between them, clearly meant to tempt Frost. "I've been watching you since you got here. You're a hard worker. You swing that pickaxe harder and longer than the rest of those lazy bastards, and they beat you for it. You lived here for a month, and yet your mind isn't destroyed. Just now you killed a man without hesitation to protect that which you rightfully earned" He sat back and shrugged in a cocky sort of way. "I've got an eye for this kind of talent. You've got moxie, kid."
[Checkpointer20: To think that he was watching you so closely?]
[Checkpointer20: I guess it wasn't all for nothing.]
"So what?" Frost asked. Attention from higher-ups like this was never good. The next words out of Richmond's mouth still managed to shock him. It was the first and only line of dialogue that he hadn't managed to predict.
"Five years, a fully paid contract. The guards right now are too busy fucking the slaves to do their jobs properly. I'm getting rid of their boss, and I want you to take his place." He gestured to the gun. "Feel free to take that revolver and shoot me dead. Mira knows I deserve it. But you won't, because this is the best deal you're going to get in your entire Mira-damned life, kid."