This was the point Kurga loved most in his job: putting the collars on the newly captured slaves. This most recent raid had been a particularly successful one. The company had sighted the smoke rising from the village two days before, had managed to sneak up to the outskirts of the village in the early dawn, waiting as the menfolk had headed out to their fields, to start the days toil.

When the slavers attacked, only the women, children and elderly remained behind. The later two the slavers mainly ignored, except to threaten with club or fist to get out of the way while they chased down the young maidens of the village, the ones who would fetch the best price at market. Like a windstorm, they’d swept through, carrying off several dozen choice slaves before any of the village could muster resistance.

Arriving in the clearing the slavers had scoped out on their approach, Kurga shrugged the young, squirming maiden off his shoulders. She gave a muffled whimper of fright as he set her down on the soft earth. The people of this region with small, slight things, with nut brown skin and dark hair. The women wore their hair long, tied up in elaborate braids. This one’s had come partially undone during her kidnapping. A few strands hung across her face as she looked up at her captor, soft doe eyes wide with fright, wet with tears.

She wore a tunic of light brown homespun, embroidered with some sort of geometric pattern at the neck and hem with dark reds and browns and oranges. For peasants garb it had been rather nice. Now, after her capture, it was much less fine. During her capture, it had become ripped at the neck and now hung down one shoulder, showing almost all of one small, round breast. During her progress through the countryside, slung roughly over the slaver’s shoulder, the branches of the trees had tugged and scraped at it, and now, as she squirmed on the ground, the fabric became stained from the grass and dirt underneath her.

Kurgu’s captive had her hands tied, behind her back, with rough hempen cord. More cord tied her feet in the same manner. To silence her frightened cries and protests, the slavers had fashioned a device, consisting of a thick stick, debarked and cut to length. It had two holes drilled on either side and two more lengths of cord threaded through and knotted. With the stick thrust roughly between her teeth, the cords had been tied behind her head to keep the gag in place. The effect was not unlike that of a horse’s bridle, fitting as, like the horse, she was now little more than livestock. Her pleas were silenced, replaced with mewling whimpers.

Around them, the rest of the slavers of Kurgu’s company were depositing their captives, some lowering them to the ground, none to gently, others simply dropping the helpless women and girls, like sacks of grain. The slavers grumbled, working out the kinks and knots from carrying their prizes over several miles of countryside. The captives whimpered in fright, or sobbed as the reality of their situation settled in, that they had been carried off by slavers, and now would never see their homes, their families again.

For a moment, the slavers caught their breaths. They were far enough away, Kurgu hoped, to not have to worry about whatever sort of rescue attempt the men of their village might try and mount. Soon, they would have to get moving again, but before then, they could get their captives ready, begin their initiation into slavery.

From a hollow stump where they had stashed them, the slavers pulled out several hemp sacks, which clanked as they lifted them. Iron rattled and clattered as the sacks were turned over and the contents dumped out; iron collars and chains. A few of the nearest captives recoiled from the sight, sobbing into their gags. They knew what the collars signified. They were slave collars and the maidens would soon be wearing them.

With a final stretch, Kurga ambled over to the pile and selected one of the collars, a lock and a sturdy length of chain. Turning back, he returns to his captive. She cringes as she sees him approach, sees the collar in her hand. She kicked her bound feet, trying to scoot away, but bound as she was, there was no escaping this. From the moment he’d grabbed her, back in her home village, her fate had been sealed.

Kurga bent down, opening the iron collar along its single hinge, at the back. In his long career as a slaver, he’d taken slaves in every corner of the civilized world, from every race and culture it seemed. All reacted differently, when the collar went on. Some broke down in tears, realizing their old lives were over and new, harder ones lay ahead. Some struggled all the harder, as if they could break the iron chains through sheer determination. Some simply stared back in shock, unable to believe what was happening to them, perhaps hoping this was all just a bad dream, one they would soon wake up from and find themselves safe in their beds, happy and free.

This girl, for instance, stiffened for a brief moment as the collar closed around her. She gave an uncomfortable groan, but relaxed somewhat as she found it didn’t choke her like she feared. Then Kurgan slipped the lock through the front of the collar and closed it, locking the heavy metal ring tight. In that action, she went from a free woman to a slave. Tears welled up in her eyes and she began to sob. Her expression was piteous and would have moved the heart of anyone not already inured to it from seeing the exact same expression on the faces of countless other maidens captured and sold over a long career slaving.

Kurgan ignored the maidens weeping. The slave coffle was forming quickly. As girls were collared they were stood up and chained together collar to collar in a growing line. Kurgan drew his knife. The slave held her breath, fearfully, until she saw he only intended to cut the rope binding her ankles. Roughly, he pulled her to her feet and dragged her over to the coffle. She was put in line, standing behind one of her cousins. As the two were chained together at their collars, her neighbor was dragged over and chained behind.

When all of the new slaves were secured in line, the slavers gathered up their things they had stashed here and there, to keep from hindering them during their lighting raid. Whips came out, cracking high overhead, eliciting frightened yelps from the slaves. They got the message. Heads bowed low in sadness, the slaves began shuffling forward, starting the long road that would lead to a distant slave market and the auction block. Those that were slow to move found the chains yanking taut, jerking them forward by their collars. None could remain standing still. The coffle started to move...