His first guess of the place being empty was false because he was smacked with a broom the moment he woke up. At least he had some hours to sleep because it was already morning. All of the opened taverns had people inside so Michael doubted anybody would let him in. There was only one place to return to, and that was the workers union.
Michael wasn't that excited to come back. It always felt the same to him, just that he now had to keep the coin pouch on his butt just as secure.
The union was a small building and in the back was the audacity they called a house. Anybody could pass by this place and excuse it for a farm, that's how little effort the people even gave for the workers.
Michael walked past the front where the other workers had been checking in. Other people hollering for more work and others cashing in their slips for pay, it wasn't a great environment in general. Even the commoners that were assigned to regulate the pay for workers hated their own job. They had to deal and live in filth. There were even guards ordering them to quiet down, treating the workers like cattle. Maybe Michael should stop calling them workers and refer to them as slaves. They get told what to do, when to do, and even what to think. Nobody here makes a decision for themselves and rather just follow whatever the guards order them to do for the sake of money. This wasn't a life Michael wanted at all.
The yard was the only place where it felt somewhat normal. There were still eyes on Michael as he walked past them in the back. Was it because of the way he walked? Was it too suspicious of something-is-in-your-underwear? Michael shook away his thoughts and made his way.
The yard had more space, more than what the lobby had to offer. Apart from the noise and drunk yelling, the slaves here mainly goofed around to pass the time. Waiting for new assignments to open up or just simply letting time pass them by.
"Watch it, kid," someone deliberately shoved him, laughing it off.
Michael didn't like his welcome back. Not a lot of familiar faces from yesterday but seeing nobody had else to do, picking on him became their deal to pass time. He wanted to get out of here. By any means necessary, he never wanted to come back again.
Michael turned around and headed for the entrance. This was different than usual. He was supposed to wait, like everyone else, until a new job opened up and begged for the spot. He was supposed to be a good boy and work under the burning sun until he dried like a rotten orange. Michael refused all of those, he didn't want to live like their animal anymore.
There was a guard, leaning against the outside building. He was laughing while snacking on some food Michael couldn't identify. Two of the slaves had broken outside and started fighting, tossing each other in the ground and grunting for something meaningless.
Michael approached him. "What are you eating?"
"Caramel," he chewed with his mouth open. "Want some?"
Michael opened his hand.
"I'm just kidding," he laughed. "How about you join them too?"
Michael watched the slaves. "What are they fighting for?"
He showed the last piece of caramel in his hand before popping it inside his mouth.
Michael hated the way he chewed.
"Don't look at me like that. Do you want me to knock you out?"
"Could you get me out of the union?"
The guard looked at Michael like he had three heads on his body.
"I don't want to work here anymore," Michael balled his fist. "This place sucks, and I rather be an adventurer—"
"Go ahead," The guard dug in the back of his teeth. "Nobody's stopping you."
"Really?"
"No, I'm kidding," he pushed Michael's head. "Remember that paper you signed when you came here?"
Michael rubbed his head. He did sign some type of paper, there were too many letters to read, but he wrote his signature on a couple of them. Even branded his family name too.
"We own you kid, and your family," he snorted. "If they find you on the outside, guess what, you'll be brought right back here."
"Wait, what? Are you saying—"
"You will devote your life as a worker to the Wilmere kingdom. I don't understand your frustration but literally, you as an adventurer? Give me a break, I already have enough headaches for today."
Michael didn't like that answer. "I—I don't want to be a worker anymore."
"Too bad, kid, you're with us until you die. Doesn't that sound great?"
Michael hated the way he laughed too. He always hated guards but now there's something about them that made him even more angry. Or was that anger about himself, how he ignorantly sold his life away for some kingdom that stole his life away? None of this made sense to him. He just wanted to get the hell out of here already.
"What's the fuss about," he smacked his teeth. "You get to sleep, you get to eat, and you can make all the friends you want, would you really want anything different?"
"You treat us like animals."
"Nothing different. Animals get raised until they're ripe, then they're butchered and eaten for food. You slaves are the same."
Michael contemplated a decision. Something to give up on his dream of eating a hot meal by himself.
The guard tightened back his armor. "Look, don't talk to me again and don't bother looking for me. We never had this conversation."
"Wait—"
"Are you asking me to hit you—"
Michael showed him the pouch, still full of gold coins. "Anything, please, anything to get my name out of this place. I don't—I don't want to be here anymore."
The guard carefully reached for the pouch like it was something dangerous. He reluctantly opened it and poured the content into his hand. The moment the gold coins poured out, he immediately stuffed it back inside so nobody else could catch a glance. Michael could even point to the exact time his face changed.
The guard felt the weight of the pouch. "Did you say anything?"
Michael grudgingly nodded. Whatever twisted desire this guard would make Michael do, at least it can guarantee his freedom from the union.
"Alright," the guard tightened the bag and stuffed it behind him. "Meet me back here at night, I'll take you somewhere."
"Where are you taking me?"
"Not so loud," the guard hissed. "You said you wanted to get out, right?"
Michael gulped. He had no idea what this guard planned to do.
"Remember, don't talk to anyone about me or this. You never met me and I never met you."
Michael nodded back.
One of the slaves ran up to the guard, panting out of breath. "I did it, I beat the hell outta' that guy. Now, give me some of that."
The guard furrowed his brow. "Of what—oh…you still wanted some candy."
The slave nodded his head like some obedient pet.
"I gave my last one to him," the guard pointed at Michael. "You can get it if you shake him up too."
Michael stepped back. "What—"
The slave lunged for Michael and straggled him around, yelling for the last piece of caramel. Michael could even hear the guard laughing away in the distance. He forgot he was still a slave. Until he's given his freedom, this world will continue to treat him like trash.