Chapter Two - Kryten
"You can look up now, there's no-one important here," said Arnel, letting go of David's arm. David looked all around the corridor as they walked, from the immaculate tiled flooring to the gilded elaborate ceiling and then to Arnel, a lean man with obvious Roman facial features formed into a scowl and a small quiff of curled hair on his head. Angry or not, it was nice to see another human in Felisanya.
"Bet this place cost a bomb."
"I wouldn't know. It was built around 400 years ago," Arnel replied and stopped abruptly. "We're here - this is the 'Waiting Room'."
The 'Waiting Room' was a guest room for new slaves and possible-innocents awaiting trial during war-time. Once their fate was decided they were led to their home, or the chopping block. You could hardly say they were mistreated: the room was vast with several sofas, a large circular bed, a walk-in wardrobe, a bath that looked more like a swimming pool and a shower area that could comfortably hold ten people. The floor space was bigger than David's house back in Britannia, and he had been sharing with five other bachelors.
"You'll stay here until the King finds a place for you."
David didn't hear a word Arnel said as he ran across the room and jumped onto the bed. "Smeg Britannia! Felisanya all the way," he grinned and stretched out on the bed.
"Welcome back, sir," someone said from the doorway. David lifted his head to see an elf with large ears, no hair and curious black clothing decorated with metallic embellishments, completely different to the Grecian robes and loincloths of the other residents. "You must be Mr. David! Hello, I'm your eunuch," the elf beamed.
"My… what?"
"Your eunuch. Everyone has a pet eunuch here. My name is Kryten, but the King calls me Krytel. He gives everyone a new pet-name ending with 'el' or 'elle'. Your name will probably be Mr. Daviel."
"I don't want to be called Daviel. My name is David: Dave to my mates. And what do you mean, 'pet'? You can't seriously like being called that!"
"Whatever do you mean?" Kryten beamed again, oblivious it seemed to the idea that he could be anything more than just a pet to a slave.
"Don't worry about Krytel," Arnel sighed. "He loves serving. It's his dream to be of a high enough rank to serve the King in person."
Kryten whimpered, "Oh Mr. Arnel, sir, don't tease me. I know I'll never be good enough."
"Arnel?" said David, "Didn't the King call you Arnelle earlier?"
Arnel scowled again and David wished he'd never brought it up. "The 'elle' ending is normally reserved for girls," Kryten explained.
"Oh…" was all David could say, as he hid yet another grin.
"Enough chit-chat though, sirs," said Kryten and he ran over to David with a tray full of delicious foreign fruits and, to David's sheer eternal bliss, hot curries which he ate without hesitation. "Mr. Arnel, let's run a bath for our master. They obviously didn't look after him on the boat trip over."
"Oh don't worry about it," David mumbled, spitting keema naan crumbs on the floor. "I always look like this."
Arnel could only frown at the mess as he took Kryten aside. "He is not my master. I'm just the guard."
"Since when have you been a guard, sir?"
"Since the King appointed me as one. Remember – I only serve him. The ranking is him, then me, then you. That over there is not a part of the hierarchy until the King places him in there."
"But the King assigned you to him, sir! He has been placed in the hierarchy. He just doesn't have a mark yet." Kryten rubbed his own mark, a crude branding scar on the left arm depicting a number. He was a V, the lowest ranking.
"Whatever his number is, I guarantee I'll be higher," said Arnel. "He is not above me."
"If you say so, sir."