"Up on yer paws, ya scummy slaves, or I'll let daylight into yer 'ide."
"There isn't even any daylight yet," Yomi muttered under her breath. All around her fellow slaves moaned themselves into groggy wakefulness. The guard stalked over to her.
"Whad'ya say, slave?"
Yomi composed herself quickly, hiding her anger. "I was just wonderin' when we'd get our food, sir," she murmured, keeping her eyes downcast.
The guard leered happily at Yomi's wasted body. "Well, as it turns out, 'Is Majesty thought you lot were gettin' too fat for ya own good, so he's prepared more work fer ya to do, along with cuttin' yer rations." This was followed by another chorus of moaning from the slaves, which was quickly silenced by a crack of the guard's whip. "Now, out to the courtyard, on the double!"
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Spion growled as he was led into the kitchens by a guard. He stumbled as he tried to take too large of a step and the chains around his footpaws pulled tight. The guard laughed, shoving Spion roughly to the floor. Spion flushed crimson, facing his captor angrily. "Listen Virt, this is only temporary."
"Slaves shouldn't talk to their massers like that." Virt shoved Spion sharply again. "'Urry up and get 'Is Majesty's food."
"I'm serving Grausam?" This earned him a bruising punch to his cheek.
"Naughty, naughty. 'Is name is 'Is Majesty. You'll be wanting to call 'im that, unless yewd like to get yerself a whipping."
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Ishmael seated himself in front of his father. A small slave appeared and poured both gerbils glasses of wine. Grausam drank deeply. "Drink up, son. You're wasting away." Ishmael normally have felt hot anger boil up inside him, but he was still too stung by Yomi's words to care.
"Of course father," he said wearily.
"Are you sick? You haven't seemed like yourself lately.
Ishmael swallowed hard. "No, just some stress." He took a deep drink of his wine, steadying himself slightly. "It's getting harder and harder to keep up with the slaves' plans."
Grausam smiled. "Well how about thi-who gave you permission to enter?" Grausam's voice did not change in volume, though he may as well have screamed.
Spion glared at Grausam as he opened the door, pushing a laden trolley. "I have your breakfast, Your Majesty." The last words dripped with venom.
"Apparently you were not informed of our rules here, slave. Ishmael, I think you need to teach him a little lesson." Ishmael had whirled in surprise when he had heard Spion's voice. He followed the exchange, uncertain. Ishmael stood hesitantly, but proceeded forward, drawing his whip, at a nod from his father.
Spion turned white with fear. Grausam propped the windows open so any passers-by would hear what was to follow. After sitting back down and taking a light sip of his wine, Grausam nodded. "You may begin."
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Grausam sighed as he glared out at his partially built fortress. Punishing Spion like that was useless; it was the slaves who deserved it. Especially them. Oh yes, when he got his claws on both of them….
An idea popped into his head. He ran it over in his mind. A smile formed over his lips. It was the perfect foolproof plan.
Sweeping out of his room and onto the staircase, Grausam made his way into the barracks. Several soldiers were there, off-duty. They jumped to attention as he entered. "Where's Ishmael?"
"Out with the fields overseers, I think, Your Majesty." Grausam left, striding purposefully out into the fields, feeling better than he had since his wife had died. On the outskirts of the field, a mousewife was busy harvesting crops.
"You there!" The mousewife turned, quite startled. "What do you think you're doing, working without supervision?" Grausam stared at her, his lips pursed and his eyebrows furrowed mockingly.
"P-please, Your Majesty," she stuttered, swallowing hard, "I c-can explain."
"Please do," still with a mocking tone.
"Captain Ishmael, he sent me here. He wanted to get more work done, and he s-said he f-figured I couldn't escape, since I'm chained and I have my infant with me."
Grausam glared at her, grinning as she cowered on the ground in submission. "And where is Ishmael now?"
"H-h-he's a-at the main field hut, I think, Your Majesty."
"Well, you seem to be doing a mighty lot of thinking for somebeast that's not allowed to think. Report to my chambers after work tonight."
The mousewife shivered in terror as Grausam practically skipped away. Why was he suddenly so happy?