Chapter Text
Icarus
The world of Minecraft is divided into several different hubs, each one accommodating various servers. A common trait could often be found among the servers that make up a hub, some sort of defining feature or mod consistently present in whatever world you decide to venture into. Of course, the most common server form was unmodded, unaltered landscapes. These hubs are often much more low-tech than those with a more technological focus. The Dream SMP is one such unaltered world, and thus the hub Icarus stepped out into was rather tranquil, something akin to a large town from a fantasy story.
The portal to the SMP was akin to a Nether portal, with an obsidian frame faintly glowing with lines of bright purple magic. It opened onto an enclosed grove full of wildflowers and tall grass. A brick wall surrounded the grove, forming an almost perfect circle until it came to an open gate.
Icarus eyed the gate with an air of nostalgia, faintly remembering the day he came through it as Tommyinnit. Fresh-faced, eager to make a name for himself, and unaware of what awaited him. A wistful smile graced his face before he straightened his back, adjusting his grip on Lethe’s leash.
At his heel, The Master could see the Ender fidgeting slightly, eying the gate while still keeping himself in line. Normally, Icarus would not have brought such a freshly collected slave beyond the walls of the Enclave, but his newly awakened instincts completely balked at the idea of leaving Lethe unattended for even a minute. Thus, Lethe had joined him on this little adventure beyond the SMP borders.
“Listen carefully, Lethe,” the Master said quietly, the Ender’s fidgeting ceasing as he let out a barely audible chirp. “Once we leave this grove, you will remain silent unless I address you. Remain at my heel while we walk and keep your hands behind your back. I will permit you to look around, but if I am speaking to someone, you will keep your eyes downcast. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Master.”
Lethe immediately put his hands behind his back before lowering his gaze submissively. It made the Master’s instincts trill happily, seeing how obedient and perfect his little Ender was. With his slave now knowing the rules and how to behave, Icarus stepped through the gate and onto the cobblestone streets.
Stepping into the bustling hub, the two of them were greeted by the inviting sight of open shop fronts displaying an array of sparkling treasures and rare curios from across the lands. Everywhere you looked, there were people of all kinds bustling about, clad in everything from medieval robes to futuristic suits, adding to the lively atmosphere of the town. Colorful banners adorned with various crests fluttered in the gentle breeze, each one telling a story of the various SMPs that connected to this bustling hub. The air was filled with the sound of horse-drawn wagons making their way through the crowded market square, mingling with the chatter of cheerful beings going about their daily business and the shouts of criers from the various stalls.
“Freshly mined copper! We’ve got ingots! We’ve got raw! We’ve got blocks, both weathered and waxed!”
“Is your server lacking color? Then why not add some new trees?! We’ve got mangrove and cherry blossom! Saplings and propagules for sale today!”
“Come and see a lost treasure of the old world! A creature thought to be lost to time! And yet, here it is! The majestic Sniffer!”
“Moss! Get your moss here! MOSS!!”
For the first time in a while, the Master felt some of his childish curiosity rising to the surface. The Dream SMP was an older server that lacked many of the resources currently on display across the shops: new ores, new block types, and new recipes to expand the world into a brighter, more livable space. He wanted to gather as many of these new things as he could, eager to improve the quality of life for his beloved slaves.
Of course, it wasn’t that simple.
Even if he managed to fill his inventory with all of these amazing discoveries, there would be nowhere near enough for the projects he had in mind. He would need something to help transport all of it back to the SMP. For a brief moment, he considered returning to the Enclave to collect Theseus, but then a passing cart caught his attention.
He had been contemplating getting a cart to aid in hauling goods for a while now, especially with how the Enclave was expanding. With each new addition to his slaves, more buildings would be needed, along with bigger fields and a wider array of resources. Icarus would be remiss if he expected Theseus to haul it all by hand; yes he was a slavedriver but not a cruel one. So, perhaps along with collecting some new resources for the Enclave, he could also see to the procurement of a proper cart. He could even rent a pull horse until he could get Carl situated for the job.
“Excuse me,” the Master called out politely, garnering the attention of a nearby merchant. “By chance could you point me in the direction of where I might acquire a cart?”
The merchant looked him up and down, as if appraising him of what he could afford or if helping him was worth their time. When their eyes landed on Lethe, who was standing at his heel as instructed, the merchant’s face became somewhat strained. Instinctively, Icarus tightened his grip on his Ender’s leash, his knuckles popping audibly. The noise startled the merchant, though they were quick to cover it with a cough.
“Ah, right.” The merchant cleared their throat. “For you, I would recommend a cart shop just down the road a ways. Just turn left when you reach the blacksmiths and you’ll see it. They’ve even got some ‘taurs that they can sell you to pull it. From what I’ve seen, ‘taurs tend to be much stronger and heartier than your average horse.”
It was clear the man had clocked him as a slaver, which he was just now realizing would greatly change the way he was perceived and treated. While this could be a problem, he could also use it to his advantage.
“Thank you kindly.” He gave the merchant the slightest tilt of his head in acknowledgment before turning down the way they had pointed.
With every step he took, Icarus took note of the way many people turned to stare at him. Some gave him a wide berth while others seemed to gaze at him with envy. One or two openly ogled Lethe, who began to press himself against the Master's side. He gave the nervous ender hybrid a pet, soothing him as he observed the people around them with sharp eyes.
This was not one of the hubs bursting with slaves and slavers, but it was not a place that banned such practices either. He was not that strange a sight, but he was strange enough to garner attention. Or maybe that was just Lethe, he did have a pretty unique color pattern. Thankfully, no one seemed willing to do more than stare, which the Master was silently grateful for. The last thing he needed was some drunkard attempting to come closer to his precious Ender. With his current unstable instincts, there was no telling how he'd react.
Soon, they reached the shop the merchant had directed them to. There were rows of carts lined up neatly outside of a modest-sized shop, complete with an attached stable. The stalls were completely enclosed so no one could see inside, though perhaps that was so the "merchandise" couldn't get any ideas of trying to call out. Oddly enough, some of the stalls had what looked to be mounted deer antlers hanging above them, ranging in different shapes and sizes. As they approached the shop, a tall, slender man with greased-back hair and a slimy grin came walking up to him.
"Welcome! Welcome, good sir!" The man was rubbing his hands together, his smile never fading. "How may I be of assistance?"
“I have found myself in need of a cart,” Icarus answered, looking down his nose at the man. “I was told that this would be the best place to get what I need.”
"Indeed, indeed!" The man eyed Lethe and his smile somehow grew. "I can see you are a man of refined tastes, so let's skip straight to one of our top-of-the-line models."
The salesman walked over to a fair-sized cart, one with a large amount of room in the back and several hitching points attached at regular intervals. There was a gilded lining along the edge, and galactic runes etched into the metal.
"This is one of the best carts I have in stock. It's been enchanted with Unbreaking, Mending, Blast resistance, Fire resistance, and a special blend of feather falling. Not only will that spell ensure that you can take this baby over even the bumpiest of roads, but it can carry double-, no triple the weight your average pull horse could carry!"
The Master raised an eyebrow at the salesman. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate quality, he very much did, but the man felt like he was a bit desperate to push his most expensive item on him.
“I assume you also have the means to pull the cart available.”
At that question, the salesman began to eagerly nod. "Oh, of course! Please, right this way!"
The man quickly led him over to the enclosed stalls, approaching a lever set in the wall. When the man pulled it, the upper parts of the stall doors slid open, revealing the contents. Immediately, a line of centaurs stepped up to the lower doors, staring straight ahead with their posture perfect. Each of them was wearing a leather harness around their waist, their arms strapped in a box tie at the small of their human backs. They had bridles across their faces, bit gags bisecting their mouths, and blinders on either side of their heads. Their hair was pulled back in tight braids down their back, with some revealing the sawed-off bases of different antlers and horns.
"As you can see, all of my 'taurs and hale and healthy, ready to be strapped in and put to work. And I don't just have your run-of-the-mill centaurs, but also different breeds of cervitaur!" The man leaned closer, that slimy grin never fading. "Between you and me, I've found that the cervitaurs can pull a bit more than a centaur. It does raise their price a bit, especially since they're so rare, but I believe it's worth the price."
The Master scanned the lineup of slaves, wishing he could just take them all home with him. Unfortunately, that wasn't possible since he did not have the means nor funds to buy and care for them all, but that did not stop a strong protective instinct from battering the inside of his ribcage. As his eyes traced over the beings and their scars he found himself catching on a cervitaur. The deer hybrid was as still and blank-eyed as the rest of them, but after a moment the Master realized he recognized him. The bright red nose was a dead giveaway, a telltale trait of the Dream SMP's former Mod, Callahan.
The Reindeer cervitaur had fled the SMP a long time ago, around the time of Doomsday, though it seemed he hadn't gotten far. Still, the fact that someone had managed to capture and enslave someone as powerful as Callahan...
"Ah, now this one is quite special," the salesman declared. "Y'see, this one sold its voice for the ability to use magic! It's quite adept in it too, so naturally, its powers are sealed. Those bands on its arms ensure that it cannot take in any power, lest it hurt itself. The fact that it's mute also means you don't have to worry about your workhorse talking back when you have to undo its bridle!"
The Master hummed, stroking his chin. “Well now, I do think I like the sound of that.”
And if the man happened to think he was referring to the man's muteness instead of his magic, well, that was his own fault. Icarus could use a proficient magic user around the Enclave. Having to enchant even the most basic of things himself would soon become tedious as his enclave expanded in numbers, and it would give the cervitaur a job outside of pulling a cart, something he would likely enjoy being able to do again.
The sleazy salesman had lit up like a Christmas tree with the Master’s remark, obviously thrilled that he was interested in such an expensive item.
"Excellent, excellent! And don't worry about its antlers. Come wintertime, it will shed the stumps and regrow a new set by spring! I have the old antlers mounted above the stall so you have an idea of what they will look like."
Well, at least he wouldn't have to bother with regrowing them with potions. It would be better to let them come in naturally.
“Good. It will make for a much better silhouette.” Which would hopefully help with the poor thing’s mental health. Plus having large antlers will be helpful in the market. They should keep others thinking twice about messing with the cart or its driver. “Is there anything I should know about it? Species requirements? Training specifics?”
"Being a cervitaur, it does require a bit more feed. Thankfully, it doesn't come with any dietary restrictions so just throw some horse feed in its trough once a day. It's been trained in how carts work and your standard signals." The salesman then perked as if remembering something. "Oh, I almost forgot. Do not release its arms. It has tried to use its hands to cast spells in the past, despite repeated warnings and punishments. While it hasn't acted up in the recent past, I have found that it's just easier to keep it bound. After all, its legs are all it needs."
“Yes. I understand perfectly.”
Whoever trained Callahan was an idiot, or perhaps willfully ignorant. It was clear that Callahan had attempted to sign and had instead been accused of spellcrafting. If this had been going on throughout his training, the cervitaur would have been broken out of signing and would likely be terrified to try again. That would make communication somewhat difficult, especially since he would need to regain the full mobility of his arms, but Icarus just saw it as a bit of a challenge.
“How much for this one, along with the cart?”
Haggling with the man was fun, especially as he mercilessly pointed out every little thing wrong with both Callahan and the cart. By the time he was done, he had significantly lowered the price, handing over a modest collection of diamonds to the flustered, and yet still smiling salesman.
“Perfect!” the salesman declared, though a bit of sweat was now running down his brow. “I’ll get the paperwork in order while you get your new ‘taur in place!”
As the man hurried off, Icarus opened the stall and took hold of Callahan’s reins. He came without fuss, walking over to the cart and waiting to be hooked up. Icarus smiled and gave the cervitaur a gentle stroke on the flank. Like Lethe, he would need time to heal from his trauma and accept his new life. Luckily, Icarus was more than up to the task.
Chiron
He didn't know whether to be relieved or scared when escorted out of his stall. The salesman had been better than the stablemaster, grooming him and making sure he was presentable, but he had been treated no better than an animal. Then again, that's all he was. Still, he was glad to be out of the cramped stall, even if he had no clue how cruel his new owner would be.
As he was led to the cart, he got into position. Oddly, this earned him a soft stroke on his flank. The gentle touch was... shocking, to say the least. When was the last time anyone had shown him affection? It was also, for some reason, particularly cold. He didn't think it was chilly enough to make his new owner's hands feel so cold, but maybe he couldn’t feel it properly through his fur. It didn't matter though, all that did was that the touch was nice and soothing and, most of all, encouraging. He had hope that he might not be worked to death or tortured for the slightest mistake.
Those cold, gentle hands strapped him into place, the weight of the cart settling around him. He braced himself, making sure to keep his posture straight and his eyes forward, waiting for directions or a riding crop to his hindquarters.
"Alright," the salesman called out, approaching the cervitaur's new owner. At least, that's what he assumed. The blinders kept him from seeing. "Just sign here and here, then the 'taur's all yours. Oh, and if you want to change its name, you can do so here. I'll even switch out its nametag for you."
The metal tag hanging from his ear suddenly felt a bit heavy. It was a nametag, like one you'd put on a mob to name it. This one was given to him by the stablemaster who had trained him, branding him with the rather derogatory name of Rudolph. It had that name, along with the details of the stablemaster and where to bring him if he ever "got lost".
Tags were something that everyone had, though citizens had “identifications”. When children were too young to be entrusted with a communicator, they wore their identifications on special bracelets given to them by their parents. When it came to animals and slaves, actual tags were used. Sometimes they were attached to collars, and other times turned into earrings, but the result always altered their code, erasing who they used to be and renaming them at their owner’s whim. Even now, as he openly rejected Rudolph, he couldn’t fully call himself Callahan either, no matter how hard he clung to his old name.
"I would like that," his new Master declared, a cold hand fingering the tag on his ear before disgust coated his words. "Rudolph... Hardly original, isn't it?"
The salesman cleared his throat awkwardly, likely uncomfortable by the man’s cold declaration. "Yes, well... I was not responsible for its name. Honestly, I don't see the point in naming animals, but-"
"Chiron."
There was a slight pause and even he was caught off guard. He didn’t dare move, but his ear flicked in curiosity. Meanwhile, the salesman seemed to be struggling to think of what to say.
"I'm sorry?"
“His name will be Chiron. See to it that this new name is placed on the paperwork. And I’ll take that new tag.”
“Seems…” It almost sounded like the salesman wanted to comment, but his new owner must have done something to terrify them because there was this high-pitched squeak and an audible gulp. The cervitaur just kept facing forward, refusing to turn and possibly earn a punishment. “You know what? It’s not my business what you call your property. Chiron, like that centaur from the Greek myths, right?”
“Precisely.” There was a hardness to his Master’s words that sent a chill down his spine.
“R-Right away! Won’t take but a moment!”
Footsteps retreated, and then his new Master stepped into his line of sight. A cold hand gripped his chin, making it so he was forced to look straight into his owner’s eyes. Looking into them was like staring into the swirling stars of the void. Even with his magic so harshly cut off from him, the cervitaur could feel the power in the man’s gaze.
"I know what you're thinking." The way the man said it, the cold certainty in his voice... It made the cervitaur instinctively shutter. "I know that you have clung to your old name, refusing to let go of it. But now is not the time to cling to the past. Who you were before is long gone, so you must embrace who you will become. Accept your new name. Accept this second chance. You will find your life much less strenuous when you do. Do you understand me, Chiron?"
He felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs. He didn't know what it was about this man, but his simple little speech had struck a good amount of awe into him, which in turn made him afraid. Not certain what else to do, as the man was seemingly awaiting an answer, he nodded slightly. Compared to Rudolph, Chiron wasn’t a bad name. He could come to accept it, especially if it meant that his new owner would be kinder to him.
With his surrender, Chiron’s Master smiled, gently scratching him behind the ear. It should have felt derogatory, but somehow it brought him comfort. It came to an end when the salesman returned, sounding somewhat flustered.
"Okay, I've reprinted the name tag for you with its new name, and I've got your copy of its ownership paperwork." The salesman came into view, handing his new owner a stack of papers. The papers were given a cursory glance and then banished into his Master’s inventory. "Is there anything else I can do to help you?”
“As a matter of fact, if you could point me to the permit office for this area, that would be greatly appreciated. I just became the owner of an SMP and I'd like to make sure everything is in order.”
"Yes, of course. You'll need to head for the municipal district just outside of the main shopping center. The permit office can be found just outside of the courthouse.” The salesman winced slightly. “Unfortunately, they do not allow slaves inside, so you'll have to hitch your Ender to one of the posts."
“Hmm.” His new Master did not sound pleased. “Very well. Thank you for your assistance.”
But he didn't have long to dwell on things. He felt a weight being added to the cart, then his reins were flicked. He quickly started moving, hoping he could avoid feeling the sting of the riding crop.
~\~/~
Hours had passed and the cart continued to grow heavier and heavier. After a short trip to the permit office, which included a rather tense moment when Chiron's new Master had to tether the Ender to the cart, they had ventured to just about every stall in the hub market. This long, meandering trip made it very clear why his master had bought him; the man practically bought out half the stalls available! Most likely, his owner was still settling into his new server and was loading up on supplies he would need to get things up and running. Chiron knew from experience that such endeavors were often costly in terms of funding and materials. Still, he hoped they wouldn't be going on for too much longer. He hadn't had this kind of exercise in a while and his haunches were starting to scream.
"I think that should be enough for now," his new owner declared, followed by the sound of yet another crate being added to the cart. "I'm certain I'll be making good use of this stuff, and I can always come back for more. For now, though, it's time to go home."
Chiron could have sighed in relief, grateful for this ordeal to finally be over. However, he couldn’t relax just yet. He had no clue what the conditions in his new "home" would be like or what to expect when they got there. Would he have a stable? Somewhere out of the elements to sleep? Would he be made to work through the night? So many questions were running through his head that he almost missed the flick of his reins. He recovered quickly though, knowing that being seen as lazy or stubborn would just make his situation worse.
As they got further away from the market, Chiron began to feel a sense of recognition. Something about the path they were taking felt…familiar. Like it was a path he used to take quite often. In fact, the further they traveled, the more he realized that he knew where they were going. Then, when they reached the grove housing the SMP portal, one look at the banner above it solidified his worst fears. The banner was a bright green color, save for a white circle wearing a familiar smile. The crest signified that this was the portal leading to the Dream SMP.
Dread filled Chiron’s heart, his eyes locked on the crest. Why were they coming here? What had happened after he left? He bit down on the gag in his mouth, for once grateful for his muteness. It kept him from vocalizing his distress.
"Ah yes, I almost forgot."
There was movement behind Chiron and a pale hand gripped the edge of the banner. Unable to watch, Chiron closed his eyes, but it did little to hide the sound of the cloth being torn free of its hanger. When he dared to open his eyes once more, he watched the fabric flutter to the ground.
"I'll need to get that replaced soon," his Master declared, dismissing the fallen banner before returning to his seat. "Come along now, Chiron."
His reins were flicked again, urging him forward. With a stutter in his step, Chiron went as directed, wincing as he ran over the fallen banner. He wondered what other parts of his friend’s legacies he would end up trampling as he stepped through the portal once more.