Sneaking out was the problem itself. Michael decided to wait for night sitting in the stables where the slaves were told to sleep. The idea of bedding was a cloth taped to the floor couldn't have been any more pathetic. Michael stepped around, carefully placing his feet over the bellies of drunken men. The temptation to stomp on their faces was something Michael also had to resist.
There's also guards that stay on their post so no slaves could ever get the opportunity to run free and cause some type of commotion at night. Because if that were to happen, the blame would be on the union which is composed of mainly guards. Michael was always caught and beaten though that never stopped him from trying again.
He crept behind walls and even pretended to sleep in the yard as some guards walked right past him. They didn't even order him to sleep somewhere more comfortable.
When he made it back to the entrance, the guy wasn't there. Apart from the empty street and dim light, it was just Michael in front. He looked around from the start and end of the street and nobody was here. Michael wanted to smack himself in the face so hard, he can't even imagine. What type of idiot slave would give their money to a guard asking for freedom? That's already a story to tell itself just how stupid it sounds.
Michael held back the yell in his mouth, even clawing at his hair. He lost all of his hard-earned money from just being a fool. Maybe Neo was right all along for Michael being an idiot. He never understood how this world worked.
Until there was a sound, horse galloping from the end of the street. These were big horses, carrying a wagon that seemed to be barred with a cage. Sitting in the front were two guards. One of them was the same person Michael had the deal with.
They stopped in front of Michael, staring down at him.
"What're you doing," the other guard said. "Why'd you stop?"
"Get on, boy." he told Michael. "Let's get outta' here."
"Who the hell is this—you're taking a kid with us? Are you crazy?"
"Relax," he helped Michael on the front. "He looks old enough."
Michael squeezed in between them. They were tall and equipped with armor so it was already awkward enough for a roughed child. He looked behind them and saw other men, the difference was these guys were in the cage.
The cage was at least five feet tall, having some of the prisoners kneel their head down so they could get comfortable. They wore cuffs around their hands and all had the same buzzed haircut. But these guys didn't look like the slaves at the union. Michael assumed they were criminals waiting to be turned in. Was Michael being escorted to jail? He hasn't done anything wrong. How is any of this contributing to his freedom?
"They're criminals," the guard said, watching Michael. "Don't worry, I'm not turning a slave into prison though that would be hilarious."
"He's way too young," the other one said. "Do you expect them to be happy with this?"
"Happy or not, more numbers mean more fun. Besides, the kid paid me for this."
"You mean—the gold you got was from him?"
Michael felt their eyes staring through him.
"Jeez, kid, what type of noble did you rob?"
They rode for maybe two hours, Michael didn't know since he was already terrible at telling time. But for the prisoners in the back, they grunted and struggled against their chains. Some even would cry and weep about what's going to happen to them. It even sounded like prison could have been living worse than what they did to slaves at the union. Michael thought there wasn't even a difference at all.
Riding through the night was peaceful, to say the least. The cold air that passed through Michael's face reminded him whenever he rode with his mother on her horse. She wasn't a good mother but she was at least there to acknowledge she had a son. For his father, who completely forgot about Michael, didn't bother to visit him at all. Though the constant bickering between the guards reminded him how his mother complained with her adventuring friends though.
"If we're not going to prison," Michael said. "Where are you taking me?"
The guards exchanged a look from each other.
"There is no prison," someone said in the back. "You think we're being arrested, huh, think your two heroes are saving your life?"
"Hey," the other guard said. "Shut your mouth—"
"They're sending us to die!"
"Hey!"
"Ain't no prison, it's a show for those fat and rich nobles. They're not trying to save you, they're just trying to get rich!"
The guard slammed his fist on the cage. "Quiet before I kill you myself! I'm giving you all another chance to live and you think it's time to be a smartass? You can shut the fuck up or you rot in prison, either way is fine by me."
The prisoner drew back his breath.
Michael watched the others lower their heads in fear. If they were all being sent to die, was Michael part of that ship? By the way these guards have been looking at him, maybe it's been true all along.
"We're here," the other guard said. "Everybody get off."
Michael hopped off from the front. He wasn't chained like the prisoners but he stood beside the same guard that promised him freedom. The other guard pulled the locks from the cage and ordered the prisoners out one-by-one. If they even showed a temptation to resist, they were beaten.
Michael looked around. They were at a tall riverbank, and just beside them was a hole into a dark cave. A cave that seemed too humane to be naturally formed. Someone had carved into this for ages, tall enough so it would fit through an average human.
The prisoners lined up behind each other, and the guard asked Michael to do the same. He asked nicely though, what Michael thought but he could already figure what this was leading to.
The other guard picked off a torch from the ground and lit it on fire. The glow from the torch illuminated a narrow passageway right into the unknown darkness. Michael gulped. This didn't even look like the freedom he imagined. They were forced to walk forward as the guard tailed behind them. Michael felt like he was walking downwards, judging from the ground feeling more steep. As they kept walking, light started flooding into their eyes.
There was a rusty, old gate separating them into another dark room. This looked even more like a prison.
The guard moved in front and pulled a contraption from the side, lifting the heavy gate. It groaned and creaked like it hadn't been cared for ages. Michael could even smell the rusty metal from the end of the line.
He locked it in place and asked everyone to come inside, welcoming them into their new home. Some prisoners were hesitant but the other half accepted their fate and walked through.
Michael was the last one, staring into the assumed darkness where everyone waited. He didn't know which was louder, the crackling of the torch of his breathing.
"Don't get cold feet now," the guard said. "This is what you wanted, right?"
Michael wanted to shake his head. This was nothing from what he wanted. There was no sun, there was no new clothes, there was no fresh food, and only a reminder of what he was. He bumped into the other guard behind him.
The other guard sighed. "Good luck, kid."