Tullos and the slave Kyros (part 1 of chapter 1)

First part of Chapter 1

On the day of the first moon in the year 450 of the New Kingdom, I opened my eyes and I was finally able to look at the new world. The lights danced around me and I could feel the warmth and joy of my mother's embrace. It was divine.

I smiled and I opened my arms to reach out to her. I couldn't even make a fist, but all that I know is that I wanted to be embraced by her, I wanted to be in her caring arms. In my eyes she was but shadows and dots of lights mixed up in a blur, it was the first time I was using my eyes, but still I knew that she was my mother.

I exhaled and a small cry came out from my tiny mouth. I didn't even know that I had a mouth or what that was. Everything was foreign and new to me. My eyes got teary and although I didn't know what was happening to me, I kept in my heart my initial goal, the desire to be embraced, to be held and love by her. I whimpered and cried like the newborn that I was, but I was not sad, I was happy and overjoyed that I had finally been born and that this loving being brought me into this new world! My mother, this loving being gave birth to me and that's why I wanted to be embraced by her, to feel her warmth and love even more! I wanted to stay there next to her. She was my protector, my guardian. I did not know what those feelings were, but her embrace was the only thing that kept me safe and warm. I was happy with her.

She held me and my whimpers dimmed down. My tears dried up and with each passing moment I felt more relaxed in her arms, protected. I closed my eyes and let my self to feel content like that. I slept.

The old memory of the young boy came to an abrupt stop when he felt a pain in the back of his head.

"Kryos!" shouted the old man Balthos after he slapped the boy's head. "Stop daydreaming you brat and go back to work! I payed good money for you so you better do your job right!" his words were harsh and his glare was harsher.

"Sorry sir!" said Kryos as he rubbed the back of his head where he was slapped "Yes sir! I'll get back to work right away!" he said and then bowed his head humbly to him. He quickly began to sweep the floor. The broom he was using was bigger than him, but he could not complain to his master, after all he was the slave in the house and it was only thanks to him that he was still alive.

"You better! Hmph!" Balthos turned and then walked out of the room.

With a heavy heart the little boy continued to sweep the floor as his master ordered. Kyros knew that he could not disobey Batlhos. The merchant bought him for twenty gold pieces from the slave dealer a few months ago and this was a rather cheap price compared to the others. Of course Balthos knew his trade and didn't let go until the boy's price was brought down by at least 40% of the original price. Once he was brought back the boy was immediately put to work. At least now he had a roof above his head and food in his belly.

Slavery was not something uncommon around these parts, that's why many of the more richer households had at least a slave or two sitting around, be them children or adults. As for their treatment, that only depended on their masters. Still, there was one thing that was vividly clear to all of the slaves: they were not seen as humans nor treated as such and because of that many were destined to a very harsh and painful life. Kyros knew he was no exception from this rule.

"Sigh..." the boy looked down at floor as he stopped sweeping. His mind went back to his memories once more, that warm feeling. It was weird that he could remember such things, but then again he had always been a bit more special than the others.

Suddenly a sound was heard behind him. The door knob turned and the door opened with a small squeak. Kyros turned around and looked at the one that entered.

"Who are you?" a young boy's voice was heard.

Kyros looked back at the one that entered. He was taller only by a palm, but he was dressed in fancy clothes. Unlike Kyros whose slave attire was made of an old raggy shirt tied with a rope at the waist, and a pair of brown pants ripped on the knees and sides, the other boy was dressed with a clean outfit made of green cotton with a red spiraling drawing on it.

Seeing that Kyros did not answer, the boy asked again, but this time he raised his tone of voice a bit higher, as if ordering him:

“Did I not make my self clear? Who are you? What are you doing here?”

Kyros flinched and looked down, tightening his grip on the handle of the broom.

“K-Kyros sir, I'm a slave in this house...” he said with a quivering tone in his voice. The words still weighed heavily on his tongue. He disliked the thought of being a slave.