It was cold, dark and narrow. The floor swayed under your feet. The smell of salt and sea was in the air, mixed with the sweat of people.

It stank.

Wood creaked above your head. Only a few rays of thin light made their way through an iron grating that locked a hatch high above.

Nobody would have managed to climb up the smooth walls to reach it. You knew that, your hands were completely bloody at the nails from countless attempts. Crusts formed on the cuts and scratches.

It burned.

In the darkness, someone groaned, old, desperate and heavy. The last breath of a dying man. Your eyes travelled like (E/C) torches through the shadows.

An outline had curled up on the hard ground. The breathing had stopped. You searched around in the leather pouch you wore on a belt at your hip.

There was still a handful of medicine left, not enough to save them all but enough to protect yourself if the disease passed to you.

Tapping against the iron bars of the cell, you made yourself known to the awake ones. Dark eyes seemed to hover in front of you like ghosts. Then a round face appeared, pale and with a black beard.

"What do you want?", he snarled.

The language of the Mongols was still difficult for your ears to understand. Most of them had heavy tongues and mumbled the words instead of saying them clearly.

You looked at the soldier for a moment before reaching through the bars and offering him your hands.

"It's over.", you said in the same language, your words slow and sharp as they sounded.

Japanese was easier to speak, it didn't tremble in the throat and was softer, like a river winding its way steadily through a mountain.

You had forgotten your mother tongue a long time ago. Only the memory of a distant home remained. And these images also blurred with every passing moon.

Humming, he bound your hands tightly together with chains of iron. The metal was cold on your (S/C) skin, biting like ice.

And it was damp. But everything was damp when you lived on a ship.

"Burn the corpses or the disease will spread.", you said as he pushed you up a narrow wooden staircase.

"Shut up.", the handle of his long sabre pressed between your shoulder blades.

The stuffy air grew thinner, each breath saltier until it finally felt like you were filling your lungs with oxygen instead of muff.

A cool wind brushed your cheek and let the strands of your (H/C) hair fall into your eyes. It had grown long over the past months. The Mongols did not allow the possession of knives, even if it was only for cutting hair.

"Walk.", the soldier jabbed the blunt side of his blade into your back.

A sharp pain made you gasp for air. The bone in your shoulder throbbed. Even with their most valuable horses, the Mongols were not particularly careful. They used everything like tools to fulfil a purpose and if it broke on their mission, they created new ones.

The same applied to humans. Special slaves. Your only luck was that there weren't many doctors among the men of the Kahn. And like every human, these barbarians fell ill, suffering from pain and rotting flesh.

Your eyes travelled through the night, across the blank surface of the sea. Ships rose like monsters, bringers of death and heralds of change.

The fleet harboured hundreds of ships, tens of thousands of men, barbarians who invaded foreign lands to take what they wanted.

With a few steps, you approached the railing. On the horizon, hours away, the first islands rose out of the sea.

Japan. Or at least the borders of the empire.

You had been able to overhear the captain of the ship a few times. The mainland lay much further behind the small islands that formed the first line of defence. It would take another week or two to reach the coasts that the barge really wanted to conquer.

Salty wind caressed your cheeks with icy fingers. But it had already changed. Distant scents of flowers and dried hay were carried out to sea. Soon solid ground would not be far underfoot.

It was time to think of an escape plan.

"Don't just stand there!", once again, the dull side of the blade was thrust between your shoulder blades.

You gasped again, your legs started to move. With every step, the heavy chains that pulled your arms into the depths rattled.

Your gaze jumped over your shoulder, down the railing onto the smooth surface of the water. If you jumped now, it would be too far to swim to the shore. Besides, the iron would take on the cold of the water and drag you into a watery grave.

No, you had to wait until the ships had anchored and the Mongols continued their raid. Then there would only be a few guards left and your disappearance would only be noticed when you were long gone.

Yes, that was the best idea. Little risk and a high degree of success.

The taste of freedom was already melting on your tongue when the door to the captain's cabin was pushed open in front of you.

Flickering candlelight blinded your eyes, which had been accustomed to the darkness for too long. Pulling a face, you followed the soldier's invitation and he pushed you into the room.

It was getting warm. Your whole body was covered in goose bumps from the cold and the tattered slave clothes you were wearing.

Now you sighed barely audibly. Your fingers curled stiffly towards the warmth.

"That's her.", the captain rose from his chair. "The healer."

Metal clinked with every step he took while silver and iron shimmered in the glow of the candles. It still burned a little to open your eyes fully to meet his gaze.

"The corpses must be burned.", you said without permission to speak.

Thick, black eyebrows drew together. He wore a beard, as is customary for Mongolian men. He had tied his black hair in a plait.

"Which ones?", he asked, baring his teeth as he bent over you threateningly.

A shiver ran down your spine but you didn't show him.

"All of them. Otherwise the disease will spread."