“Forty Marks,” I declared, triumphantly and bitterly dropping the coins in my friend's hand-

  “Now let her go.”

  Turkar, disbelieving to the last, slowly clenched his fingers around the coins as the weight of reality finally met him.

  “I don't get what you fucking see in her, mate,” The baffled confusion still spilled out as freely as his foul language.

  “Yeah, well, you had the last two months to figure it out, buddy.”

  “But it's a fucking dog.”

  “She is made in The Image of God just like you and I,” I told him for the umpteenth time. But at this point I was through with trying to even reach an “agree to disagree” resolution.

  The friendship we had formed for the year prior to those two months might have been, to my shame, the only thing that stopped me from having killed him on the spot when I found out he had Meika- That and the reality that the rest of the guardsmen would have certainly killed me in turn.

  Make no mistake- I could have then, never mind what I can do now. By that time, I'd lived five years in this world and I had killed a lot of bad people. I was no longer the wet-behind-the-ears just-out-of-high-school geek who played too much tabletop RPGs and read too much manga.

  I bet some of you are thinking this situation is a lot like a recent trend in manga where the hopeless boy gets transported to a new world to save it. Reality is a little disappointing, isn't it?

  As far as I'm concerned though, God is also Lord of this universe so at least we have that going for us.

  It's not all different, however. I showed up with nothing but the clothes on my back and whatever I had in my pockets, and my success here has been higher than I ever expected (Blame dumb luck or thank God- I prefer the latter), but nobody discusses HP or MP, quests or EXP, and not just because they can't see it like us “special” ones, but because this place is just as real as back home. It hurt to figure out, honestly.

  By the way, if you're new here, Don't say “magic”. The Saovic Nation calls it wind-weaving. Magic, however, is the dealings of spirits and demons- There are some bad people in The Church who will burn you for misspeaking.

  But I'm getting off subject (And I really should stop doing that! I already give the monastery scribes too much work).

  The worst part about those two months was that Turkar was the nicest guard in The Grand Seil Forest Border Station. Sure, he had a dirty mouth on him, but that was true for everyone there. But he was the first to pull me out of the cold when I came staggering in from a snow storm. He offered me steady work for steady pay. And he never once got mad at me when I wanted to take his “toy” away.

  And that's what made this last moment so painful. Red, yellow, black, white, blue or green (those last two were hard for me to get used to), he was decent to everyone human.

  Human. Meika's kind didn't get from him even the level of respect most slave owners gave them.

  We don't really know where God will take us from day to day. Perhaps it was a mistake to say nothing to the slave owners I saw in every prosperous town in Saovia, reasoning that because they spoke to them with soft words, touched them tenderly, and even wept for their slaves who died- That somehow they weren't “bad” enough- Or perhaps simply God does not need everyone to throw themselves headfirst into the meat grinder-

  But I do know that I never had an ounce of the anger I should have had until I knew Turkar's favorite hobby.

  It started a few weeks in when we were sharing drinks, trading stories and singing songs while off duty. Turkar, much more drunk than I would have liked to be myself, told me a story of a small village he saw ransacked while on duty in his lord's army. Bodies everywhere, some half eaten, some women, children, and old men. It was indiscriminate, horrible, and vengeful.

  I told him I was sorry he had to go through seeing that- No one who does that kind of slaughter can be called good, after all. He said it was the Velak who did it to the village and they never stood a chance. I was sorry, but he took it to mean I hated them as much as he did.

  He never called them Velak. In his mind, that was their word for themselves.

  He called them dogs. Often “fucking” dogs. “Curs” for the males, “Bitches” for the females. This new side of him he opened up with got nods of sympathy and even voiced approval and cheers- And all the while he remained decent. I remember he stayed behind to comfort a lost little girl while the rest of us scoured the forest to find her parents, his eyes sparkling with paternal delight as she talked his ears off about the great things her daddy could do.

  After she was reunited with her parents and taken safely home, This same man that evening said he'd kick the head in of a Velak child if he ever got the chance.

  Then he bought himself a slave while on leave.

  Not a cheap thing to obtain or keep healthy. I don't know how he got her all the way to our border station, but the captain pretended not to know he kept her chained up in one of the cells in the dungeon.

  If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

  Then he showed her to me. I think he wanted to finally get me on his side, as if meaningless sex with a battered, starved and traumatized slave would convince me he was good.

  But he was still my friend, somehow, after all my loudly voiced disagreement with him, so I told him I would buy her and after that I would leave. And two months later I had saved enough of my pay to do just that.

  “You're out of your damn mind, mate, this place is fucking great,” He took the jailer's key and clicked the lock open.

  “Oh yeah, lots of beer and all the sex you want, I'm sure. If she's such a dog, what does that say about you?” I said, dripping with sarcasm and anger. “We have guard dogs here too- You wouldn't have had to pay one mark for for an evening with one of them!”

  He flushed with embarrassment. “It's different-”

  “You're DAMN right it's different! Every time the captain sent me down here to clear out the rats, I'd have to endure her crying in the corner of the cell you threw her in. She stopped after the first week. When I finally got the guts to take care of what you did to her, she was letting the rats eat her alive. She was just going to lay there and die, Turk.”

  “You think that bitch wouldn't kill us all if she could?”

  “You sure gave her enough reason,” I retorted, having forgotten the open jail cell. Not that it mattered- Meika was still chained to the wall.

  “It's a dog. They don't need a fucking reason,” He spat.

  I got quiet. Inside I was seething- I knew that if I didn't choose my words carefully, I'd soon be pulling out my sword.

  He never understood.

  In fact, just then I knew there was nothing short of an act of God that would convince him otherwise. Every day he saw or spoke of the Velak, he saw those bloodied, half eaten bodies- Men, women and children he hadn't gotten to in time, and a face to put to The Devil's work.

  So I prayed for an act of God.

  “Turkar,” I said, voice shaking, “You might have saved my life when I first got here. I'll never forget that. But it took everything I had to stop me from trying to kill you when you first showed me Meika-”

  “Austin-”

  “I've obeyed Saovia's laws today. I bought her fair and square. I obeyed the captain's orders and kept peace with my guardsmen. But if it were up to me and I somehow became king of Saovia- This would stop overnight.”

  “Austin, what the fuck-”

  “You're like a brick wall, Turkar, and I am done trying to explain to you. Now leave. I'm taking my slave.”

  That was the last I ever saw of Turkar, looking confused and hurt as he turned out of the dingy dungeon and disappeared up the stairs. Not because he died in battle or anything (at least to my knowledge), but because once I was done with preparing Meika, I would leave, pausing only to thank the captain and tell him I would be gone.

  Describing Meika for any newcomers who haven't met a Velak yet, it wouldn't be quite right to say she had a wolf's head glued to a feminine, fur-covered body. Some of you who were online often might think you know where I'm going with this, but you'd probably be wrong.

  Her ears were lower, her head was bigger, and her jaw was a touch smaller and more thinly pointed. Strong jaw muscles connected to the back of the head instead of the top, and a brown mess of thick, ruffled fur scattered from the top of her scalp down to nearly the middle of her back.

  For stability, a Velak could walk on the flats of her feet, but is faster on their toes and even faster on all fours. She was still very thin and I wasn't sure she could go fast at all, despite all the meals I took only half of in order to feed her.

  She was covered in solid brown fur all around, in lighter patches under her belly and chin- Her only claim to modesty save for a ragged guardsman's surcoat- Another gift to her from me. Scarring from rat bites did little to remove her fur's complete cover, but it was filthy and matted.

  Her tail was a favorite point of abuse for Turkar and a couple guards he'd convinced once or twice to join him. He'd pull it, twist it, stomp it and bite it, (Things I knew because she told me) and it was amazing the thing was as straight as it was- Large, ragged patches of once voluminous fur only just starting to regrow made it look all the worse. If she hadn't loved it as much as she did, it might have been spared more often.

  I could go on- There was a scar on her nose, a tooth here and there were gone, her ears were cut and pulled and twisted and bruised numerous times- On more than one occasion one of her eyes was completely swollen shut and her lips were fattened and bleeding many times-

  But the worst of all was the most unassuming unless you knew. Those times she could manage to stand up on her own, she had to clutch her waist and shook like a leaf from there all the way to her toes.

  ...Turkar deserved Hell.

  But when it comes down to it, so did I, and it was not my call who God sends where.

  I walked in to the dark cell and saw her golden eyes shine back at me- Hopeful despite everything, but tinged with doubt. After all, had I saved her, or did I just ensure her a future she would be hurt like this again?

  I knew for a fact that I had not saved her from anything, but God willing, maybe I could make part of what was wrong right again.

  Turkar had left me the jailer's keys for the first time ever, and as I unlocked the cuff around her ankle, every second of my doubt and struggle was proven worth it when I was gifted with a smile.

  “Meika, I'm sorry I couldn't do this two months ago.”

  She grabbed the bars of her cell, and dragging herself up to both feet, pulled me into a hug. “That's okay. I am patient,” She said as though the unfairness of Saovic law was only a minor thing.

  One of the first things I had learned about Meika once she was sure I would not hurt her was that she had worked in a tavern serving meals- First as a free woman in her home nation of Chenkenka, then as a slave to an elderly, dementia suffering master when Saovia conquered them.

  Bantering with rowdy patrons and lending an ear to weepy drunks gave her a wit, and her master prior to Turkar had convinced her humans weren't always evil, but at this time she would not be back to herself until weeks later, and the nightmares would take even longer to get over.

  I allowed myself to cry openly. I believe I had earned it after all the restraint I had been required to do. There was a time I was convinced she'd never let anyone touch her ever again- But as she began to heave quiet sobs of relief, I knew that somehow I was “different” and I thanked God for his infinite mercies.

  “Your God loves me after all,” Said Meika.

  “He's your God too,” Said I.