十八书屋自由阅读小说

Chapter 4: Small men have great shadows(4)

His eyes, a piercing shade of blue, held a depth of wisdom beyond his years as pain teached him the way of life as amidst the darkness, there was a glimmer of resilience, a spark of defiance that refused to be snuffed out.

His presence was like a ray of sunshine, always radiating warmth and bringing smile to the group .Despite their growing friendship, Alpheo knew very little about his past. Egil rarely spoke about himself, only revealing bits and pieces here and there. From what they could gather, he hailed from a small kingdom in the east, more of a tribe than a kingdom . He served as a rider for his tribe for some years. However, his life took a drastic turn when he was captured during a skirmish against the Empire . For the past two years, he had endured the harsh realities of slavery, enduring countless beatings . And no matter how much he suffered, his pride remained intact as he often boasted to his companions about his exceptional horsemanship skills.

Among the group, Clio stood out as the most unassuming figure. His short hair, a dull shade of brown, blended in with the rest of his companions. Yet it was his long, unruly beard that captured the most attention, cascading down his chest in a tangle of wild brown and silver strands that seemed to have a life of their own.

Before being forced into slavery, Clio had been a fisherman by trade. Like Jarva, he too had fallen into financial ruin and was sold into slavery for his inability to pay his debts. His small vessel was taken away from him, leaving him unable to make payments and ultimately leading to his enslavement. As he now stood among his fellow slaves, his once free spirit felt crushed and confined by chains and servitude.

\'\' So did you catch anything?\'\' Egil asked Alpheo , his fingers scraping against his stomach, Jarva too looked intently at the youngest of their group , Clio instead looked outside towards the stars, albeit the rumbling of his stomach made it easy to read that he too was interested in the answer.

"No luck today, my friends.\'\' Alpheo spoke as he shook his head \'\'Every cook had his eye on me , and that fat bitch of Virzana always has eyes on the food. As if the entire army could not feed itself from her rolls of fat\'\'

\'\'Oh\'\' Jarva said in a sad tone as he lowered his gaze .

\'\' Or at least it would be the thing I would be saying , if I was not as sneaky as a sewer-rat\'\' With a swift movement, he raised his shirt, revealing a hard piece of bread hidden beneath. The other slaves\' faces lit up with joy at the sight

. "I would kiss you if you were a girl, Alph," Egil remarked in a light-hearted tone.

"Good thing I have a cock then." He handed the hard bread to Jarva, who eagerly took on the challenging task of breaking it. Among their group, Alpheo was known as the strongest, so it was only fitting that he take on this role.

The meager loaf of bread they had was not the soft, fluffy kind one would think of . It was the dry and hard kind , meant for the masses and not for enjoyment. If one were foolish enough to try and take a bite, they would find their teeth clipped . The only way to make this bread edible was by boiling it in water, creating a lumpy, porridge-like substance. But even that was out of reach for them, as they lacked both fire and water in their dire situation. Alpheo, being the most agile of the group, would wake up early each day and move a large stone near their cell, exactly for this reason . When evening came, they would reach for the stone behind their cell , with which they would then break off small pieces of bread using the stone and place them in their mouths, relying on their saliva to soften the tough dough.

Only a fool would try to eat it directly, as they were so hard that many times when an enemy army would enter the camp , the camp-followers would try to fight using cooking knives .

And if all else failed, they could always rely on the rock hard bread to knock out an opponent with one swift hit, using it as a club . Its unforgiving texture could potentially kill a man with just one blow and know they were to eat that club.

With a loud snap, the bread splintered into countless small pieces, scattering across the rough and grainy ground. Egil let out a low mutter of satisfaction as he extended his hand to grab a piece, only to have it quickly slapped away by someone else.

"Well, that was a good meal," Egil muttered under his breath as he caressed his aching hand , still eyeing the scattered pieces of bread on the ground. Clio turned to him with a stern expression.

"Alpheo was the one who stole it and brought it here, so he should be the first to enjoy it," he stated firmly, his gaze fixed on Egil. In response, Egil raised his hand in defeat, acknowledging Clio\'s words.

And like that Alpheo gingerly took the small piece of the hard bread, his fingers trembling slightly as he brought it to his lips. With a deep breath, he tentatively placed the dry morsel in his mouth, feeling the rough texture scrape against his tongue. Instantly, his jaw clenched in discomfort. He could never get over that

On the first day, the sensation had been unbearable, the bread feeling like gravel against his teeth, threatening to break them with each bite. He had wanted to scream in frustration, to throw the bread away. As it would seem , hunger was a harsh teacher though, and Alpheo learned to suffer it in silence.

The other two followed suit, slowly and cautiously bringing small pieces of hard bread to their mouths. Alpheo stood alongside them, watching in silence as they savored each bite. He could see the hunger in their trembling hands and grateful expressions.

After a few moments, Alpheo broke the silence. "I suppose it is time to reveal the other thing," he muttered as he swallowed. With a flick of his wrist, he opened his hand and revealed the small, and careful prize he had stolen early that day.