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'You said the slavers took you and other hatchlings to market, but the city you described was most likely Leyawiin.'

Bloodies-His-Face nodded. 'They took us to Leyawiin first, and then they sailed up the Niben to Bravil where they tried again,' Blood explained, 'when it was clear we weren't going to sell, they sailed further up toward the Imperial City.'

'Then this must have been during the reign of the Longhouse Emperors?'

Bloodies nodded again after sipping from his goblet. 'As far as those barbaric cunts were concerned, every vice and crime were permissible,' he responded, 'history should remember them only for their malice.'

'R-right... But you fought in and were subsequently named champion of the Coronation Cup held in Emperor Leovic's honour, were you not?' Bloodies gritted his teeth but kept them concealed, and then shook his head.

'Not by choice.'

The two moons hung in the night sky as the Dunmer boat continued onward. Bloodies-His-Face had figured out that the boat moved thanks to the cloth 'sails' the great trunk in the centre of the boat held above them. He shivered under the raggedy blanket his captors had given him and the others, as the rough fabric did little to ward off the chilly breeze. He forced himself to eat another handful of cold saltrice from his bowl, also given to him and his fellow captives. The meal was uncomfortably clammy, even for a hatchling who had been fed grubs and other swamp-fare, but nonetheless he waveringly swallowed.

It had been four nights of ragged blankets and clammy saltrice since the first walled village. Then two nights since the next walled village they were taken to. Nobody wanted to take Bloodies or any of the other hatchlings. So now they were on the water again. He had heard the other Dunmer call the Dunmer-who-smiled by a name, but he was unsure of what it was. They talked about 'getting rid' of the 'stock'. Blood could guess that meant him and the others, but he quaked at the thought of how the Dunmer would get rid of them.

'Hey Red...' a voice murmured. Bloodies traced the source to his cage-friend. The Dunmer-who-smiled named him as 'Fleet-Feet'; for how fast he was when he almost escaped in the second walled village. Fleet-Feet was covered in bruises and lashes as a result. 'It is easier if you just eat all of it at once,' he said.

Bloodies looked back at the bowl, then back at Fleet. 'Mm...' Bloodies was not so sure, but Fleet just smiled--albeit wincing. So then, Bloodies took the rest of the saltrice in one handful and fed it into his maw. He cringed as the soggy grain went down his gullet and then groaned in protest. Fleet kept his giggling quiet as he watched. Bloodies could not help but smile just a little.

The two had become quick friends after they left the first walled village with more hatchlings nobody wanted. Fleet started by just calling Bloodies 'Red'. It turned out Fleet knew a lot more common tongue than Bloodies, or 'Tamrielic' as he was taught, so he had been teaching Bloodies more words whenever the Dunmer were rolling dice on a crate nearby. Although they were around the same age, Fleet seemed to know a lot more than Bloodies did and not just about Tamrielic. The first thing Bloodies learnt was how Tamrielic used what was called 'tenses', which was foreign to their kind because Saxhleel only ever spoke in what most people would call 'present tense'.

He also learned that Dunmer was just another name for 'Dark Elves'. He listened to what they said and then would ask Fleet about what they were talking about. Over their time in captivity, Bloodies learned quickly and understood more Tamrielic than he did before whenever the Dark Elves spoke.

Not long after they had taken away bowls half-finished or finished from the hatchlings, he heard one calling out from above. 'Land ho!'

Both Bloodies and Fleet stood up to see for themselves, along with the others in their cages. Being away from the marshland and swampy forest meant sight unhindered by fog. Surely enough: another walled village came into view, but somehow this one made the last two seem like villages for ants. Upon a hill were massive stone walls that surrounded what Bloodies could only imagine were equally large buildings, as though the people built them to reach for the sky. What seemed to affirm his thoughts was the towering structure beyond the walls that appeared to succeed; the very top of the building looked as though it could hold both the moons and all the sky as well.

For a second, he tried to imagine what it would be like to look down from the top and made himself a little sick.

The boat continued, keeping the towering walled village ever in view. It finally stopped in a port, and the Dark Elves began to usher their captives out of their cages the same way they had done before. Fleet and Bloodies where chained together at the front of the line, and they were made to follow the Dunmer-who-smiled as he led the group of captors and captives. It was night, so the group only encountered the odd passer-by or armoured sentries. But even then, nobody acted as though there was anything wrong with the Dark Elves keeping Saxhleel prisoners. Fleet had previously taught Bloodies a word to describe this.

It was 'unfair'.

The hatchlings did not have footwear but were by now used to it as their bare feet landed on cold stone. While they walked through gates and tunnels that lead into large roads paved with stone bricks, Bloodies looked around the walled village. The buildings were much nicer and well-made than the ones he had seen before. The stonework looked so free of moss and cracks that he believed the buildings were built just before they arrived. Although it was late at night, he could see lights through some of the windows--glimmering through a see-through material he hadn't seen before.

Eventually the group reached a greater circular building--larger than all the others and set in its own space as a sign of strength--where the Dunmer-who-smiled met a man in armour. They had approached the front gates of the great structure where the man in armour stood barring the path with his arms folded. He was like other olive-skinned men Bloodies had seen before, except for being tall and wore an eyepatch over his left eye. He bore a few scars and his mouth seemed like it had been chiselled into a permanent frown.

'Well Syrus,' he began, confirming the name Bloodies had heard, 'more gutter trash you couldn't sell on the Niben?'

Syrus shrugged before the larger man. 'That's not nice, Gaius. You know I only bring you the best of the lot!' he replied, gesturing to the chain of slaves. Gaius' expression was stoic--unconvinced, but he did spare a glance to the group. After a few seconds, the glance became a stare. Bloodies felt like he bore the brunt of the man's piercing gaze, and he looked away.

'Same price as always,' Gaius said to Syrus.

The Dark Elf's lips shifted. 'You sure? I'm telling you, they're--' Gaius stared into Syrus' eyes with his singular own. He let his stern look do all the speaking he needed. '--T-twenty drakes each, you have yourself a deal.' Syrus finished. He jerked his head at his partners, and they shepherded the slaves past Gaius. Fleet started to turn his head to look at Bloodies.

'Hey, eyes forward!' He snapped his head back and walked as the Dark Elf took him by the wrist.

They were taken down into the bowels of the building. Down a flight of stairs, past walls that dribbled with crusted red and warriors who struck at hay people, the slaves were unchained from each other. The Dark Elves unlinked their wrist irons, but they laughed when one of the slaves held up his hands.

'Keep them as a souvenir!' They then laughed together on their way out as the slaves stood there amongst the scent of blood and sweat, irons still clasped on their wrists.

Gaius came downstairs soon after, and he folded his arms the same way he did before once he stood in front of the slaves. 'Welcome to your new home, pit dogs,' he began, 'I'm the Arena Blademaster. That means I don't know what stupid thick swamp tree you all pay homage to and I don't care: in this world, you listen to me and my gladiators like your lives depend on it.' Bloodies stuck close to Fleet, the two exchanging looks. 'You will mop up and sweep the Bloodworks, clean weapons and armour, and muck out the animal pens. Otherwise, you eat when I tell you, shit when I tell you, and sleep when I let you. Do I make myself clear?'

When only a few of the hatchlings excluding Bloodies and Fleet agreed, Gaius' temperament erupted. 'Do I make myself clear!?' This elicited the response he wanted as all the slaves including Bloodies and Fleet nodded, adding verbalised agreement with quivering fins and spines.

The scowl on Gaius' face somehow deepened even more and then he turned away. 'Follow me. I'll show you where you'll be resting your little heads.' The egg-kin obeyed, fearing what the Blademaster would do to them if they did otherwise. Gaius led them to a small room about as big as one of the mud-huts from home. All over the floor were piles of straw, some of them occupied by other Saxhleel who were older than them. 'Pick a spot and get some sleep,' Gaius said, 'you'll need it for tomorrow when the hard work begins.'

Everyone piled in and found their spot. While the others took hay piles, Fleet and Bloodies took to the corner of the room furthest from the door. He took a look back at the Blademaster's stony stare before it disappeared behind a thick wooden door slammed shut.

'Hey Fleet...'

Fleet looked up at Bloodies, who was still sitting up against the wall. 'What is it, Red?'

'This is not unfair,' Bloodies responded, 'it is worse.'