Squall wrote:Slavery
In the Eastlands of the World, slavery -- and certainly slavery as twas practiced in 19th century America -- is a rare thing. Apart from several traditions of debt slavery in various contries, there are very few examples of
forced servitude. In Auntimoany, the place where this happens is a debtors prison. A Debtors Prison is, most broadly speaking, a place where one is housed and punished for the crime of falling into debt and not being able to pay off said debt. Any society that ascribes value to things like work, time and money will eventually also come up with the concepts of borrowing and repaying. A debtor is simply someone who has outborrowed himself and can no longer pay back his creditors. In Auntimoany, the civilized way of dealing with such miscreants is to sentence them to a term in a debtors prison, which is really a kind of workhouse.
Of course, it's only after all other remedies are pursued -- from compelling the debtor to sell off treasures or livestock or other goods, to in extremis selling off the house or farm (terribly difficult to do unless the debtor is unmarried and heirless) -- that one may compel the debtor's very labour. And then it's to the workhouse you go! There, you (and your family) will be the guests of the Commissioners of the workhouse -- there are separate quarters for the inmates and for their families, and they get to visit you during your relatively rare free moments; there you shall live and work and socialise; there shall you eventually pay back your debt. It's not an easy repayment scheme, either: The amount of work you do is tallied daily by your overseer and recorded in the Commissioners' ledger. Each day's wage is then divided up between your creditor, the workhouse itself, the Commission and you. If your salary is determined to be set at two dalers per day, then chances are good the first daler goes straight to the creditor. Of the remainder, half a daler goes to the House, a quarter to the Commission, an eighth to your designated chapel or temple and an eighth to you.
Unlike other punishments, under Auntimoanian Law, criminal debt is inherited equally by your spouse(s) and children. So, if you have the misfortune of falling sick and dying while in House, your wife/es and children move in the workhouse and take over for you. Happily, their time in house will not be so long -- many hands make light work, after all! And, according the Law of 2000, the labor rates of child heirs at criminal debt repayment are now paid at the same standard rates as adults. But at least your house will still be waiting for them when they get out!, though most likely emptied and having been rented out by the Commission as a way of recuperating some of their costs. The one further saving grace is that, once condemned, the judge will usually halve or quarter any interest owing on your debt remaining at time of trial, and no further interest can be collected by the plaintiff.
One of the most famous examples of debt slavery, of the Foreign variety, occurred nearly 200 years ago. Twas in 1812 that Mentolatum found itself in a scuffle with Auntimoany. Auntimoany being the more powerful of the tusslers, but also not being desirous of a large scale war with an otherwise friendly nation, to say nothing of an occupation, a lightning war was engaged in, during which our Emperor's armies rapidly crushed the Mentolatian armies, destroying some key infrastructure and looting all the way. In short order, the scuffle ended, and in typicaly Thietish fashion, the victorious Emperor at the time sought to seal the treaty (Treaty of the Marches, 1813) with a royal wedding and quite naturally demanded the daughter of the arquan in marriage. "Arquan" is what they call their kings.
Consternation ensued down in Mentolatum, however. After all, how could the arquan condescend to sell off his daughter into slavery!? For they had this ancient practice called newaruta, which is a kind of debt slavery: if a family finds itself unable to pay off a debt, they must sell off the eldest daughter for a set term in order to pay it off. So, there being no real choice in the matter, the poor girl got sent away. Although she apparently succumbed to some wasting illness within two years, and was publically mourned in the City for some time, every Mentolatian seemed to feel it was really a defiant act of honorable suicide. Anyway, Auntimoany went on its merry way, the Emperor found a new princess to fall in love with, while Mentolatum fell into a nasty civil war and consequent economic depression. The arquan was deposed and a regency was set up in his place.
It was not until 1953 that the arquanate was restored, but its reputation was still very much tarnished. Much of the old esteem was refurbished five years ago or so when the present arquan, on the anniversary of that ill-fated wedding, decreed an end to the practice of newaruta.