The Ambition of the Dreadlord Raveres
Part III: Debts to be Paid
Episode Twenty-One
Each breath that the Druchii took was one of pain. Her cheeks were cracking and her sunburnt skin ached with each pulse of her heart. It was little over a day's ride after the knights and mercenaries.
With only the heads of her prey weighing her down Raveres and her riders rode through the rest of the day and even kept riding through the night. Briefly stopping at the oasis they'd visited earlier. Even in the darkness of the moon-lit night the vultures were making meals out of the dead men that Raveres and her company had left there on their first pass through.
Resting the horses and taking on water the she-elf only allowed the men a brief breather before they set to again, determined to return to Al-Daouk as swiftly as possible. As they rode along, she took solace in the cool breeze which drew across her uncovered face.
It was in the low lighting of the blue night that she also allowed herself to let show her emotion. Quietly she let out the occasional sob of sorrow, able to masque it as merely pain from her wounds, a sound that none of the men would begrudge her. As day began to dawn, they came riding along the road towards Al-Daouk.
Re-donning her hood Raveres also drew a riding veil which one of the men had gifted her. It was a simple piece of material which Yurin explained could be worn to protect from blowing sand, or from the oppressive sun. Hooping the edges of the material over her ears it lightly rested across her face, giving her skin a much-needed reprieve from the harshness of the unfiltered, cloudless, sky.
…
Approaching the city, they saw that they'd returned before Prince Balik and the others. The city guard happily greeted the homeward riders as heroes but Raveres ignored everything, desiring only the seclusion and comforts of her palatial chambers.
But before riding to the Palace, she spoke for the first time since the sun rose, asking hollowly;
"Which way to the Bretonnian embassy"
Yurin enquired among the men and two riders volunteered to follow and guide her. Looking at the men she bowed her head at the neck in gratitude, while the other riders traveled down the parade ground towards the noble quarter, and then their barracks at the palace.
Their guides stepped ahead as people were going about their morning routine, trying to adapt and keep on after the rough upending of their daily lives. Yet seeing the riders and Raveres the people, regardless of their profession or station, gave her nods of respect, her reputation and fame having obviously spread among the citizenry.
While it stoked her ego the Druchii was intent on discharging her trophies as soon as possible. Rounding the corner, the familiar strange building came into view, armoured footmen standing guard outside its thick door. Once they saw the riders and Raveres among them they hammered on the door.
"My lady…" Yurin began, "You can leave the message with me, you really ought to rest in the pa-"
She shot him a look and immediately the retainer quieted.
"Repeat my words without erring; I decided there was only one way fitting enough to relay this. And that was in the flesh."
Yurin nodded. Their horses slowed and when they came to a stop, she stared down the armoured Bretonnians, snarling under her veil. Eventually the Ambassador arrived, with more guards. Stepping into the mid-morning light he looked up at Raveres with a furrowed brow and familiarity as he recognised the she-elf.
But before he could speak the Druchii reached into one of her saddle bags and brought out a fly covered head. Holding the dismembered man by his hair she threw it with spite as she began to speak and Yurin translated.
"I trust you recognise this man…" the head rolling at Ambassador Lucian's feet was that of Sir Cratoun.
She reached into the bag and pulled out Sir Tormande's ruined and broke-jawed head.
"… and this one as well!"
Throwing it after the envoy she stared the man down as his expression wordlessly asked what the meaning of this was.
"These men accosted me before, rebuked they left and plotted. It was your knights who set fire to the city. And it was your knights who murdered Sir Jean and his squire."
Her voice stopped and Lucian Dupris looked down as Raveres threw Sir Finise towards his brothers. Then she unhooked the heavy saddle bag on her other side and let it fall from the flank of her horse. It collided with the cobble in a grotesque and wet crash, spilling a few of the lifeless, dull eyed heads.
"These are many of the men who they paid in blood money to kill your own knight, and to set flame to this city."
Lucian's face widened as he listened to Yurin's translation, utterly dumbfounded.
"The knight and squire's bodies are with me, and I shall return them to their country, far from this sandy shit-hole."
She stopped herself and pointed one of her long gauntlet encased fingers at the man.
"And you will explain to Sadalsuud why his city was made alight, and why a good man is dead."
Tightening her hands around the reins she nodded and began turning the horse.
"I can only hope that this brings about the end of your presence in this city."
Snarling in pain Raveres let out a breath and set spur to flank,
"I care not for anything you have to say. But perhaps this time, you may just kiss my feet in apology."
As she stepped back down the road the Bretonnians looked on in horror as she walked away, "If you value your lives, I'll be in the palace, as a guest of the Emir."
After finishing Yurin furrowed his brow and couldn't help but regard the lowly Bretons with disdain before following after his mistress.
Once they had turned the corner and were out of sight of the Envoy and his men Raveres let out a weary sigh, painfully gritting her teeth and shuddering under her veil before turning to Yurin. Though he was hesitant to meet her eye when he came alongside her, she seemed somewhat recomposed as she spoke,
"Now the market…"
She furrowed her brow incredulously, "Is it even open?"
Her voice was angry and hostile, but reservedly so. Responding as plainly as possible Yurin spoke and nodded,
"I believe so milady."
She furrowed her brow as she looked to their sides, nearly all traces of the urban combat and fire removed, save for a few blackened buildings,
"They've cleared the city and reopened their gates to trade that quickly?"
Years of living in Al-Daouk made Yurin somewhat familiar with how the city and Arabyans in general, responded to crises, and he admitted,
"They can't afford not to. The lifeblood of their whole civilisation relies on the strength and regularity of their trade."
He nodded, "If Sadalsuud were to keep the city closed for more than a few days he'd lose so much face and coin it would take a week to recover."
She breathily chuckled, "Even their slave market?"
The retainer paused. He'd hoped that she was merely jesting, or was going to forget that she'd said she desired soft fingers. Yurin knew it to be a part of life, yet from all his reading and education he knew of places where slavery wasn't allowed, and even actively abhorred…
Though the Druchii were reliant on slavery, and his mistress was literally going to be in the flesh trade the thought still irked him to a degree and begrudgingly he answered,
"Aye"
She nodded and pointed ahead, thankfully missing his apprehension, "This way to the bazar is it not?"
He agreed uneasily and Raveres continued along,
"You shall aid me in seeing about a cask of wine, and sweet-meat slaves."
She was still groaning quietly in pain, but at saying aloud both tantalising luxuries she softened and seemed a little more relaxed. Risking his luck Yurin tried to dissuade her,
"I may certainly help secure the former… but I." he gulped, "I wouldn't know about the latter my lady."
Turning to look at her retainer she narrowed her brow and stared him down. They began entering the busy bazar square. Row upon row of stalls and stands greeted them, and throngs of people were everywhere amidst the shouts and advertising of salespersons.
"Where's the wine merchant."
Nodding Yurin began looking from stall to stall before seeing a bright yellow banner with an emblazoned glass. Pointing towards it he announced,
"That one my lady."
She followed his finger and nodded once spotting the stand. The people in the market began parting for the horses as Raveres rode towards the merchant. His face dropped and he gulped as he came face to face with a Druchii on horseback, flanked by three men bearing the Emir's colours. He bowed his head and many in the crowd watched on expectantly as Raveres spoke and Yurin translated.
"My mistress wonders if you have any wine of elvish stock, from southern Ulthuan? She cares not if it's from inner coast or outer."
The man breathed a sigh of relief and nodded, smiling and happily falling into his routine of selling.
"Of course! Of course!" he pointed to the she-elf and smiled widely as he looked from Yurin to Raveres, asking almost redundantly, "For the lady?"
Yurin nodded and the merchant put on a great show, turning to his assistants he spoke quickly, "Southern wine! From Lothern! Quickly, you fools!"
The apprentices nodded and looked over the casks and barrels of varying sizes among the stall and the horseless cart behind it.
"Here master!" one exclaimed.
The two men lifted the rundlet onto the merchant's table.
"Shall I tap it for you, my lady?" he asked eagerly, "Surely my lady would like to sample it! Please I insist!"
Before Yurin had even finished translating the question for Raveres the merchant ordered his assistants,
"Open it! Bring her a glass!"
As they pressed a spout into the rundlet they filled one of the few glasses that the merchant had atop his table for prospective noble customers to taste with. His men offered him the glittering glass of white elvish wine and he held it carefully while turning towards Raveres. Stepping beside her horse she took up the glass gladly, raising it to eye level she began looking over the clear coloured liquid before letting go of her reins and raising her veil.
Closing her eyes and throwing back the liquid over her tongue she felt the familiar orgasmic burning of the wine. It wasn't counterfeit and the merchant hadn't lied about his stock…
The taste rolling across her buds was the unmistakeable quality of decade-aged Asurian wine, something which the nobles of Naggaroth would never admit they longed for and envied; the climate of their home naturally unsuitable for the proper cultivation of such crops as grapes.
Savouring the lingering taste Raveres finally swallowed, the merchant erupting into a smile as Yurin translated,
"My mistress asks for the cask, as well as any bottles you may have of the same stock."
He bowed his head and nodded, "Of course!"
Snapping his fingers, the men brought forwards several green glass bottles. Raveres turned and began walking her horse away from the stall and through the crowd again, the merchant furrowed his brow, but before he could ask a question Yurin declared,
"My lady is a guest of the Emir's at the palace. If you could deliver the wine there as soon as possible she'd be most grateful."
The man's eyes widened and he looked to his assistants happily as he nodded and bowed, "As you say Sayidi!"
Turning from the wine merchant Raveres grumbled in pain, her face throbbing with heat from the skin.
"Where's the slave stands?"
Yurin lowered his head as he rode along her right side.
"Just over there my lady."
Passing through the enticing scents of spice merchants and food sellers Raveres steeled herself, hungry for a more satisfying release then that of food or drink. She nodded and the pain of her wounds and burnt skin gave her an eagerness to get farther along, and likewise closer to the auctioning. City guards allocated to the slave market held their hands up and formed a line barring passage as they spoke.
Yurin immediately translated,
"They say no horses my lady… So perhaps we-"
With a groan Raveres hefted her leg over the horse's head and slid from the saddle. The guards eyed the tall elfish woman uneasily and she brought her hand to her belt as she stepped confidently forwards. Yurin climbed down from his saddle and followed after his mistress holding his tongue as they entered into the populated and loud auction ground.
"I've never been here before my lady so I don't know how all it's set up…"
Raveres searched around the area, and mumbled in reply,
"I'm sure they're all quite similar…"
Spotting an auction master, the she-elf nodded and stepped through the crowd,
"Come Yurin."
…
Riding after the woman Shen, Jacque cried her name and waved his sword hand as he tried to get her attention.
"Please! I can aid you milady!"
She raised a brow and turned towards him as he brought his horse alongside hers.
"I've friends in Al-Daouk! I assure you!"
She smirked, her bruised lip flaring from the movement,
"Is that so young Breton?"
He nodded and pointed backwards,
"I swear if I were to show myself to those men, we'd receive escort back to the city!"
Shen laughed, "Why do you follow me now little knight?"
He paused and closed his mouth. Surely it wasn't because she was so strange and a woman… no it couldn't be that. His pubescent voice cracked as he cried,
"I-it's a matter of honour!"
She smiled, her small mouth pursing, as she looked back ahead.
"Is it indeed?"
Jacque nodded, "Aye!"
Shen raised a brow as their horses continued galloping, farther from the battle behind them.
"How would that be?" she asked quizzically.
The squire immediately replied,
"You aided me, and I am a noble squire of Bretonnia! It is only just that I aid you in return."
She pulled back on her reins, slowing her horse. Shooting a glance behind them Shen saw that they were not being pursued.
"You know the Emir you say?" she asked, playfully doubting him.
He nodded emphatically,
"I do! And I know members of his court too… I swear by the Lady." His voice lowered as he added, "T-there's also things I must see to back in the city…"
Shen raised a brow and looked from the squire, back behind to the battle, and then ahead to the faint sight of Al-Haikk. She let out a sigh,
"Would you swear to keep a secret young Bretonnian?"
He piqued up and nodded, "O-of course?"
"There are those seeking me…"
His brow furrowed at the sudden revelation of clandestine information. She laughed as she wrapped the reins around her hand.
"I've fled a long way… yet they are persistent creatures."
Jacque swallowed nervously. She looked him up and down before shaking her head and scoffing,
"They came very close to capturing me before I ran into those men and was captured the same as you."
Shen cocked her head and looked at the squire.
"I must continue, most likely, forever looking over my shoulder… as prey to be hunted."
She raised her head back as she scrutinised the boy's face.
"Your friend, the Emir, could you sway him to somehow protect me? An unknown… peasant?"
Jacque somewhat deflated and he answered, "No… well, I mean…"
She nodded knowingly,
"And you, a squire… Shall you endeavour to be my protector?" she laughed, "You don't even know me."
The young man, earlier all vim and energy, was now embarrassingly reminded of his listless position in the world. She waited as he sat silent; eventually speaking,
"I thought so."
Waving him away she set her spurs to flank and her steed headed onwards,
"Go back to your people little Breton."
Shaking his head and looking up he called after the oriental woman, a question nagging at him,
"But where are you from milady?"
She looked over her shoulder, smiling,
"What's it matter? We shall never meet again?"
He kicked his horse and set forwards after her, determined, 'I will not be afraid! Not of anything, nor anyone! Including her and her phantoms!'
Shaking his head, he replied, redoubling his efforts,
"Nay milady! You must come back with me, I'm to return to Bretonnia, and I've an ally who seeks to sail the waves, so I insist! You ought to make use of my aid…"
Shen drew on her reins and looked at Al-Haikk once again as he continued,
"I may not be a knight yet, but…" he nodded, "You speak my tongue and must know how well I am bound to honour."
She nodded, her lips pursed in entertainment at his reluctance to give up,
"That may be so… But it is a knight who is bound, and a squire bound to him."
Shen shook her head smirking,
"I don't see a knight with you little squire."
Jacque furrowed his brow and steeled himself, admitting honestly;
"He fell… saving my life."
The woman's face contorted in embarrassment, her jesting and playful tone replaced by sombreness,
"I am sorry… Forgive me for making light of it. I, I did not know."
The squire nodded,
"But allow me to follow his example, I cannot route your enemies, nor would I claim to know of your trials, but… I am now devoid of companions,"
His expression mellowed, before he looked up, hopeful and eager,
"let me fulfill something noble of my own; by aiding you!"
Shen sat quietly for several moments, the noise of the men and woman yelling behind them giving speed to her thoughts. Looking to the youth she raised a brow before finally asking,
"We'd pass to Al-Daouk, and from there a ship bearing us to your Bretonnia?"
Jacque held his face tightly composed as he nodded, "Yes."
She looked at the closeness of Al-Haikk's walls, debating the options in front of her. Quietly groaning she turned to the squire, scrutinising his face and asking deadly serious,
"I have your solemn vow?"
Jacque nodded again as he held up his sword-hand,
"In the Lady's name, and by my King, I swear it."
Satisfied the woman let out a weary breath, pointing past him towards the battle, she nodded,
"Shall we aid them first then?"
With a smile the squire turned 'round in his saddle. The Emir's men were still in tough combat with the mercenaries and Shen had drawn her stolen sword. She shook her head and chuckled lowly, almost in disbelief at herself.
Taking hold of his short swords' hilt Jacque brought forth the steel and the odd pair turned to speeding back to the battle, their weapons held high, determined to further revenge themselves against their brief captivity.
…
After speaking with the auction master Raveres was informed of how the stock was divided and presented. Out here in the open-air market those up for auction were low labourers, chattel slaves, miners, and the like. More quality stock… those oriented more towards other professions, were sold from several of the buildings which opened towards the bazar.
Enquiring which was most expensive and had the most exotic stock the man paled and laughed, earning himself a swift backhand from Raveres' gauntlet and an immediate tongue lashing in front of onlookers.
After the Druchii pulled at his beard the master apologised profusely and pointed towards a large elegant building nestled in the corner of the marketplace. Stepping ahead Raveres was greeted at the door by armoured guards, Yurin pointing to the still mounted cavalrymen indicated that his mistress was one customer they wouldn't want to turn away.
Stepping into the plush interior of the building Raveres was led by a buxom matron, her body wrapped head to toe in layers of see through silks and her arms and fingers adorned with jewellery.
"Please, please sit! Most honoured guest…"
Brought into a wide room with a cushioned couch Raveres raised a brow and sat, doing her best at hiding her weariness and exhaustion. Yurin drawing a deep breath stepped beside his mistress.
The matron of the establishment bowed to Raveres,
"Water? Wine? Would there be any refreshment I might provide the lady?"
Yurin relayed the questions and the Druchii remained silent. The retainer politely shook his head, nodding the hostess stepped back,
"Very well. What might your mistress be in search of?"
Unperturbed from the dismissal of hospitality the woman smiled, swiftly using her salesmanship,
"I can assure her that ours are the healthiest, and most sought-after servants in all Al-Daouk! We shrewdly purchase and house our stock only for the most noble of purchasers, and happily boast exotic flesh of every colour from all corners of the world. We proudly can attest that the Emir Hashan finds members of his own harem here from our wares!"
Raveres spoke, her voice even and plain, as if she'd done this before. Yurin blinked and drew in a breath before relaying her message,
"My lady desires to view what you would deem 'the most prized' of your current female inventory."
The matron nodded and clapped her hands. A scantily clad Arabyan woman, in red see through silk, stepped into the room and the proprietress spoke to her hastily before turning back to Raveres with a smile,
"Certainly, my lady, only but a moment and they shall be shown to you."
In a few short minutes the red dressed woman returned with a line of prospective slaves. They each kept their eyes directed to the floor and not one of them glanced up towards Raveres. Leaning back in her seat the Druchii moved her eyes from woman to woman, scrutinising the plain clothed Humans.
There were five being shown and Raveres looked each one up licentiously, thankful that her expression was being somewhat hidden by her veil and hood. Cocking her head to the side Raveres pointed to a blonde woman, second from the front. Not moving her eyes from the female, the Druchii spoke. Yurin looked to the hostess and she eagerly awaited the translation,
"This one, what is she and where is she from?"
The matron bowed, snapping her fingers and waving the girl to step forwards.
"This is Rhea. She's nineteen years of age, pure, clean and unsoiled. She is of Imperial extraction and fluent in two languages; Reikspiel and Asurian."
The woman slowly began to raise her eyes towards Raveres. Her flaxen hair was pulled back into a loose braid, and her eyes were a bright blue, like water. She was shapely, but her clothing was dully intruding over her natural beauty, her bare feet and legs were adorned by unsightly clasps and chains, restricting her movement.
As Yurin relayed the matron's words the she-elf cocked an eyebrow at her bilingualism, and asked,
"Can you understand me girl?"
The woman, hiding a shiver at Raveres' very identifiable Druchii accent, nodded. Under the material of her veil the she-elf smiled, though immediately the pain across her cheeks made her shut her eyes and seethe in pain. The matron nodded and began adding other skills which Rhea had,
"She's able to play the flute she's literate, she also-"
Raveres raised her hand and the proprietress stood, holding her tongue, as the guest spoke. Yurin turned to the buxom matron and bowed his head,
"My lady will purchase her."
The matron smiled and bowed her head as she began, "Excellent! I avow that your mistress will not be disappointed!"
Moving her hands to clap and dismiss the rest of the slaves Raveres shook her head and Yurin cleared his throat,
"My lady… is not done yet."
The matron turned to regard her customer with wide eyes, almost salivating. The imperial, Rhea, was worth a large sum, yet the attitude and regard which Raveres was acting told the proprietress that this guest was one: rich and two: familiar with this business. As the mature woman looked at Raveres the she-elf spoke and Yurin repeated,
"My lady says that Rhea should make ready and prepare herself for travel."
The matron bowed and rubbed across her thick eyebrows; stress sweat beginning to form from her excitement.
"By all means! She'll be given provisions, and all our slaves come with a trunk of possessions necessary for their own maintenance. This is of course… an included fee in the total purchase price…"
Mentioning the subject of money made the mature woman swallow and eye Raveres, wondering giddily just how deep the mysterious guest's pockets were. Rhea was led out of the room by the red clad Arabyan woman.
Looking at the four remaining Raveres scrutinised each intensely before pointing to the shortest one. She had ebony hair, trimmed short in a rounded bob just above shoulder height. Her eyes were a light hazel and her skin was a darkly tanned olive.
The matron waved the girl to step forwards and she looked up from the floor towards the mature woman with hatred. Immediately the proprietress snarled and snapped her fingers. The tanned woman stood defiant before the matron looked to Raveres and began apologising,
"She's a stubborn girl! I… I don't know why she's here! I mean-"
Raveres leant forwards, raising her hand to quiet the matron again. The tanned woman turned and met the Druchii's gaze.
"What is she?"
Yurin translated.
Nodding the matron answered,
"She's a nomad from south of the sand sea. She's a daughter of a fallen clan leader, after being captured she was sold and made her way to us. She speaks Arabyan, we know not her age. She's quite resistant and spirited. Please, if it's her swarthy and athletic appearance which entices you, I may offer several replacements."
Raveres shook her head. The whole time Yurin relayed the Arabyan proprietress' words the Druchii and slave were in a staring contest.
"Her name?"
"She's known as Maya."
Raveres nodded and waved the slave forwards. Swallowing quietly the dark-skinned woman followed the order and shuffled forwards. The matron was correct in describing her as athletic. Her arms and legs were taut with musculature, her body trim and devoid of fat from a highly mobile childhood.
Raveres rose to her entire height, drawing a breath and straightening her back as she imposed and made Maya step back, intimidated. Looking away from the woman to the proprietress the Druchii nodded and spoke, with Yurin translating,
"She'll buy her too."
The matron nodded, doing her best to hide her joy and remain professional. Looking to Yurin she made a nonverbal question with her features if it was okay to dismiss the three remaining slaves. He spoke with Raveres before looking back and nodding. Maya stepped out of the room, ahead of her fellow slaves, as the red-clad woman ushered the stock from the showing room.
"Now about payment…" the mature Arabyan woman began. Her makeup and rouge covered features ecstatic at the sale she just presided over. Yurin spoke and Raveres sat back down.
"My lady now wishes to view your male stock."
Steeling himself and blinking the retainer nodded as he continued to repeat the she-elf's words,
"She hopes that they'll be of similar quality and variety."
…
As with the women earlier, five males were brought into the room following after the red-clad woman. The line of semi-nude men stopped and turned face while Raveres did her best to hide a gulp of arousal at the sight of such shirtless masculinity.
First in line was a red haired Norscan, his chest scarred and his face brooding, second was a tall, muscled southlander. His hair was trimmed short and his dark eyes stared straight ahead, bearing himself with the dignity of a soldier. Next to him was a swarthy Tilean… or Estalian.
Immediately at the sight of him Raveres balled her hands into fists, quickly passing her eyes over the fourth, to look at the fifth man. He was similar to Rhea, visually identifiable as an imperial. His eyes were a blueish green and his hair a light brunette. Yet none of them stood out to her enough…
They were each of them handsome and attractive specimens, surely to satisfy and please the rich noble women, or men, who'd bless the establishment with their patronage. But Raveres hadn't gotten the same tugs as she had when viewing the females…
She was almost ready to dismiss the men and ask for more brought in, until she looked back at number four. He had long sandy blonde hair, gracing his shoulders. He was the only one whose face was hard to see. And as if to add to the mystique he seemed to be looking down deliberately.
Yet unlike the others he had a quiet smugness, as if his current predicament was a passing trifle. His shoulders and face had a light dappling of freckles and his abdomen and body was lithe, muscled, and cut in just the right places.
When he looked around on the floor Raveres marvelled and opened her mouth in licentious desire at the prospect of buying him, of making him squeal, and of making him hers.
The male's eyes were brilliant and deep pools of emerald green. But once she saw them; it was his ears which made her most aroused and excited. Long, elvish tips protruded from under his hair.
Feeling Raveres' gaze, he finally looked up to see his prospective master, only for his eyes to widen and his expression to drop. His natural sense of elven superiority, now replaced by fear when he realised what was under the hood and veil in front of him. She nodded at his realisation and the elf immediately looked from the Druchii, towards Yurin, and then to the matron. His chest began rising up and down as Raveres waved her retainer to lower.
Whispering in his ear he then spoke to the matron.
…
That cow-uttered Human spoke her incomprehensible language, beaming a smile to the armoured and sword bearing retainer.
'Damn it all!' The Asur thought.
"Why didn't I bother to learn the language of the place I was travelling!'
Nervousness was making his back and neck perspire with a fearful sweat, his mind now racing.
'Is she… is she truly a D-Druchii?'
He felt all his familiarity with his situation tossed away, now only a primordial fear gripping his heart. He knew that he'd be sold, but he had expected, and everything told him it would have been to a Human.
Any indignity or potential fearful treatment was nothing to him, for he was so certain in his abilities to escape by offering his buyer his true name; believing that his blood relations would pay handsomely for his safe return.
Naturally he would have been ransomed after he plied his silver tongue. And so confident in this was he, that the male Asur plied his charms on his fellow slaves and acted like he always had, even ordering some around, taking whatever, he wanted and arrogantly disregarding the slavers attempts to 'train' him.
This particular Arabyan slave house, unused to having an Asur, was doing everything to treat him more as an odd guest, or a hostage, than as property to be sold. He'd only been shown to a few prospective buyers, yet each paled and hid their surprise at the steep price demanded for the elf.
This, as well as everything else, caused Arathar to think of his slavery as merely a simple bump in his life's journey. But this woman she wasn't Human. Her eyes told him as much, yet it was her address which sealed his fear:
"Hello cousin…"
The veiled woman's accent was unmistakeable, and his freckled cheeks twitched as he tried to contain himself.
…
The matron announced happily,
"He is indeed an elf my lady, we snagged him rather fortuitously! He was caught a few cities away, having run into some debts which he'd reneged on."
She laughed, "The beauty attempted to flee to sea before being caught."
Then the matron sniggered,
"His name, is Arathar, and from all we've gotten out of him he only speaks Asurian. I regret that he's not more broken in but he's a most exotic treasure to be sure! What he lacks in formal training he makes up for in appearance."
Raveres was glad for her veil; as Yurin relayed the woman's words the she-elf could barely contain a sadistic smile.
'Her very own sweet-meat Asur.'
The matron continued her sale's pitch,
"As with the others, he's clean and unspoilt. As you can see his skin is unmarred and he has been fed well! He is of noble blood to be sure, boasting so to us."
Raising a brow, the matron looked at Raveres sternly,
"But naturally we're at a crossroads on whether to sell him or ransom him."
The she-elf nodded, as she met her eye. Smirking under her veil and holding back her pain she raised her voice as she stared him down and spoke.
"My lady wishes to see him closer."
The matron waved the Asur forwards and he looked at the slave trader with horror. The woman sternly furrowed her brow and the red-clad woman pushed Arathar forwards. Looking him over and blinking in approval Raveres nodded,
"Make him mine."
At this the high elf paled and his eyes widened. The retainer nodded and looked at the matron,
"My lady shall buy him, and conclude her business here."
Swallowing and nodding the mature woman stuttered,
"O-of course!"
Clapping her hands, the red-clad woman pushed and directed the five men to exit. Being led out of the room the Asur began voicing his protest, fear of becoming Druchii property driving him as he was corralled out of the showing room.
"Would you like the three slaves brought to your home my lady? Or perhaps-"
Yurin nodded as Raveres stood,
"My lady is staying at the palace, a guest of the Emir's."
The mature Arabyan nodded and smiled, repeating her refrain, "Of course!"
"Payment will be delivered once the slaves are brought to her."
"Indeed!"
"She hopes that she might be able to sign the bills of sale? They may be held with you until payment rendered."
The woman nodded, "That would be most adequate Sayidi."
…
Exiting the flesh house and remounting their horses Raveres rode back to the palace with a satisfied and excited smile across her features. Despite the pain of her red and cracking skin she couldn't help but feel excited at the purchase of so much sweet meat…
'Arathar, Maya, and Rhea…' she thought happily.
Her own property.
Striding down the streets and turning onto the promenade towards the palace she immediately sobered and became solemn, recalling her first time down the elaborate road with Sir Jean. She narrowed her eyes and became disappointed as grief and loss evicted her earlier enthusiasm and tired excitement.
Passing the threshold of the Lapis gates to enter the palace grounds, waiting horse grooms came forwards to help as Raveres, Yurin, and her two riders dismounted. Sadalsuud stepped towards the edge of his landing, watching as his men, the translator, and the she-elf stepped towards the staircase.
His expression drooped even lower as he saw the cloak covered body strapped across Yurin's horse. The retainer hastily mounted the stairs and started speaking to Sadalsuud as Raveres, her face obscured by the riding hood and veil, walked past the Emir, only quietly making a minute acknowledgement of her host.
Entering the palace and ignoring the protests of the servants she stepped ahead, bearing towards her chamber. Yurin did his best to explain what all had happened and Sadalsuud nodded as the two men interjected adding their own accounts. After hearing the whole of the story, the regent eventually declared,
"I shall send for my court physician to attend to her…"
Yurin nodded appreciatively.
"And… when she's…" the Emir paused but Yurin nodded understandingly.
"Tell her that I shall see to the young Bretonnian. I don't know if she'd want to know this yet but the knight is already cleaned and dressed…"
He stopped and changed subjects as his expression pained,
"The physician will be along shortly… go, to your master."
Yurin bowed appreciatively as he stepped along after Raveres and followed into the palace.
…
Coming to the closed door of his mistress' room the retainer hesitantly knocked, and took hold of the handle.
"My lady?"
Raveres was stripping her armour wildly, throwing pieces of metal to the floor as she growled and shuddered in pain. Now in a place of privacy, away from others she let out some of her bottled emotion. Struggling with her left leg's greave she looked at Yurin, her red face intensely eyeing him,
"Help me with these, gods damn you!"
Yurin stepped into the room and assisted in undressing his mistress. Her chest's bandages were falling from her sweat slick skin and her pale flesh was becoming visible through the cracking and uncoiling wrappings. Yurin averted his eyes as he tried to focus on his job,
"I made a report to Sadalsuud, I said all of what you had wished conveyed. He's given you use of his court physician's skills and I should expect the man to be along shortly."
The she-elf moaned in pain and nodded, her greaves finally coming free from her legs. Her body was drenched in sweat, grime, and dried blood. Wearily she stepped forwards, not minding as her bandages fell away from her breast. Taking a seat against the end of the bed she looked at her retainer while panting.
"See about running this bath too. And my pain…"
Seething she groaned through her teeth, "Gods, it bloody hurts!"
He nodded, continuing to avoid looking at her exposed breast and pink nipples as he thought aloud,
"Is having those slaves attend to you really wise after everything my lady?"
Leveling her gaze at him Raveres stared down the retainer.
"I've not slept in almost three days. I've a ruined hand. My body is marred, my companions' dead… My skin!"
She scoffed and looked to her shoulder, sections of her flesh already peeling and she pointed with her right hand.
"My skin is cooked off!"
Before she said anything more there was a rap at the entrance to her room, a bearded and robed man in the doorway. He was carrying a canvas satchel and stepped into the room slowly.
"That's the physician?" she asked aloud.
Yurin spoke in Arabyan and the man responded. Quietly confirming,
"He is my lady."
"Good, now get him to give me something for the pain."
Yurin nodded and the waved the man step closer. He did so while narrowing his brow clinically as he scrutinised the she-elf's injuries.
…
The aloe oil was rubbed onto her face and neck and as soon as its cooling touch seeped into her skin Raveres cooed and let out a heavy breath of relief. Drinking from a goblet of water she shuddered as Yurin applied plentiful globs of the thick poultice.
The physician looked her over, sewing shut and cleaning her many wounds before leaving her with a small clay pot of the aloe, along with instruction to Yurin as to the simple applications he was to do for her. Shutting her eyes and leaning back Raveres breathed and thought aloud as Yurin gave a second coating to her nose and chin.
Raveres stirred under his light touch, grumbling in pain at his fingertips rubbing her ears. Small patches of her skin were beginning to peel under the white cream, and at the retainer's touch. Opening her eyes and rising up from her seat she finished her drink of water and nodded, more calmed and of a sounder mind than before, though still tired and grief stricken
"After speaking with Sadalsuud, what was it he had to say?"
Yurin reached for a hand towel and wiped his fingers clean of the sticky, aromatic, salve. Hesitantly he asked,
"Regarding what?"
Raveres raised a brow and cringed in pain at moving her face,
"My ship… the goods he owes me, and healthy slave stock?"
Yurin nodded again,
"Oh y-yes… of course. Well, it will take a few days for the… slaves, but the raw goods are already being loaded to a ship now. I uh… can't recall all the details but they're non-perishable and sea going merchandise. The cargo's luxury goods mostly; bolts of silk, crates of spices, barrels of preserves, and the like. But that wasn't what he was most concerned with earlier on the steps…"
Nodding Raveres stepped up and away from her retainer, looking over the empty bathtub. Her voice dropped, throwing away the earlier attempt to care for her trade agreement,
"What else might be done for this pain…"
Yurin swallowed,
"The ointment and a cool herbal bath would be most therapeutic my lady."
She shook her head,
"On the ship, what was it that I was given?"
Turning around she furrowed her brow and seethed in pain,
"Poppy oil was it?"
The retainer knew of the narcotic. It was an ancient remedy from ancient Nehekhara, quite wide spread in Araby and apparently also to the lands of the Far East. When smoked it gave a euphoric 'high' to practitioners while also lowering sensations of pain. Begrudgingly he nodded,
"It was."
Nodding and stepping towards the bath the she elf nodded,
"Secure some of it for me."
Yurin was beginning to understand her better and better.
"No matter the price my lady?"
Sensing his sarcasm, she turned, snarling as she agreed, "No matter the price."
…
Arathar was shivering as he dressed and was led from his small room within the slave house. The tunic he wore was plainly dyed and ill fitting; tightening his rope belt across his waist it took a more appropriate form.
Looking down he hoped to bear himself with at least some dignity. The plain slave-pants he was wearing and low-quality slipper-shoes, together with the tunic made him look as much as a commoner as anything he could imagine. It was a far cry from the raiment he was accustomed to sporting.
Now the only thing indicating his nobility and pedigree was his clean and handsome features, and of course his attitude. Brushing his hair to the side he gulped and followed the guard at his doorway. Compelled by a strange fear to press on, he naively hoped,
'If she's a Druchii I can play off her greed… that is unless she bites my tongue off first…'
He shuddered as he exited the building. In front of him the Asur looked to his fellow slaves, his worry and apprehension growing as he was led to a carriage and the grim reality of his 'sale' sank in. The tall blond imperial and swarthy nomad, were both chained together by a silver and iron banded collar around each of their necks.
There were guards a plenty to watch and ensure their compliance with travel. And already there were some observers, keenly pointing and gossiping as they watched the auction house's employees all but parade the three slaves.
After the chains linked to his ankles were removed, a choker was locked around his neck and he was now connected to the two Human females. The embarrassments of so many Human eyes on him made Arathar want to curl up and become as small as a Gaean sprite…
Being directed towards the carriage by the auction house slavers he began panicking under his faltering guise. Maya was at the front of their line and climbed into the horse drawn cart while swearing and grumbling. Rhea turned and gave Arathar a fearful look, hoping in some way to get reassurance from her male companion. Meeting her gaze, she spoke in Asurian;
"Do you think we're to die?"
Despite her thick accent, which normally would have made him raise his nose in disgust, he honestly admitted, his mouth opening dryly,
"I… don't know…"
Their purchaser was a Druchii, 'Surely,' he thought, 'who else would have greeted me with 'cousin'?'
He shuddered as he reluctantly climbed into the cart.
'Just think about their race's avarice and not their darkness…'
Three small chests had already been loaded ahead of them; Arathar knew that within the small containers laid their affects. Now sitting in the carriage, he began praying under his breath.
Before this point, even when he had reneged on his money-lenders and fled Al-Haikk, he never felt compelled to be as humbled as to ask the gods for favour, or mercy. He was already a blessed Asur, and the machinations of being made a debt-slave were almost ignored by his delusion.
Yet on his way to a Druchii's clutches, he began to recall the gossip of others back home of their wayward and twisted exiled kin. Of course, it was exaggeration, idle and fantastical gossip among his father and mother's enthusiastic courtiers, 'Right?'
Immediately he began invoking deities and being as elaborately fanciful in his mental praise as possible,
'Blessed Asuryan, our great heavenly father, l-let me sway this woman with gold and promises…' he nodded, '…great mother Isha grant me fortune, speed me home…'
His thoughts took this turn for quite a while, until when he felt a minute amount of relief, he opened his eyes and looked around. The cart began towards the 'royal mile', a street so resplendent it told him it was leading to the palace and their destination.
He gulped and looked to his companions, hoping that they'd give him a small measure of confidence; Maya was scowling, her arms folded and her tanned skin glistening with sweat. Rhea had reached into her small trunk and withdrawn an elaborately carved ivory flute. She was turning the instrument over and over in her hands, her fingers occasionally dry-playing across the holes, when she noticed that Arathar was watching she laughed nervously,
"T-the matron boasted t-to our new master, I, I mean mistress, that I played."
She cringed and laughed again, but it was one of fear as her voice plainly told him,
"Our seller also said I was fluent in elvish…"
Rhea shook her head, "C-couldn't be more n-nerve-wracking!"
Arathar nodded yet felt compelled to try and offer some kind of kindness,
"You sound passable to me…"
The imperial stopped her faux-playing and looked up at the elf, smirking,
"Liar…"
Maya, noticing the talking of her fellow slaves raised an eyebrow, and came to from her brooding. Pointing to Rhea she spoke,
"You understand me, correct?"
The blonde imperial turned and nodded, "I do…"
Moving her finger to aim at Arathar she asked,
"He doesn't, right? He only speaks knife-ear?"
Rhea spoke with Arathar and he visibly tightened before the imperial answered,
"Yes, he only knows his own tongue…"
The tanned nomad began scratching her fingers through her hair,
"Okay… so what can you tell me about our new master? What all do you know?"
…
Passing through the water and lapis gate of the palace the slaver's cart passed an empty merchants' carriage. The two men driving the trade cart were laughing and smacking one another happily as they yelled about 'a job well done' and 'we need to stock more from Ulthuan'.
"Obviously they've made a good sale…"
Arathar mused. Rhea, uneasy at the prospect of meeting their owner nodded before repeating the observation to Maya.
"Ha…" the swarthy southlander replied dryly. "Traders; are soft men… like you, elf. Pink hands and unscarred arms…"
She smirked and scoffed,
"If our master thinks I'm going to bow and scrape to her she's dreaming…"
Rhea furrowed her brow as the cart turned round in the courtyard. Atop the stairs of the palace was the armoured translator which had been present at their purchase. The three met his eyes and he pursed his lips before nodding. The slavers stepped down from their cart as horse grooms stepped forwards to keep steady the beast of burden.
One of the slavers mounted the stairs; in his hand he bore the parchment bills of sale. Appearing to the side of the retainer stood two palace servants. The huge muscled men were carrying a chest, presumably laden with payment. Yurin spoke with the slaver as Arathar, Rhea, and Maya were handed their respective trunk of affects.
The sale now formally concluded the slavers clucked happily as the gold-filled chest was brought to the back of their carriage. The retainer atop the stair waved the three slaves to come, and for her attitude and earlier claims of defiance Maya was more fearful of moving forwards than either Rhea or Arathar.
"Come on…" Rhea whispered.
"We s-should make a good impression." She said optimistically.
Breathing life into hope Maya considered the imperial hesitantly as the two women stood before the staircase. But it was Arathar who strode forwards, the chain around his neck forcing his linked companions to follow.
"I shall make endeavour to alleviate this situation…"
Rhea furrowed her brow as the three slaves walked.
"B-but how?" she shook her head, "You are as we? Whatever could you mean?"
He looked back with an arrogant smirk,
"I'm of noble Asurian blood," he scoffed, "Our master can become rich indeed if she releases me to my family!"
Rhea couldn't help but purse her lips as she tightened her grip on her small travel chest.
'I wouldn't risk the lash so brazenly…' she thought.
Yurin nodded as they came to the landing and he turned while leading them into the cool palace through its magnificent arches. To Arathar such dazzling craftsmanship was lost on him, having lived almost the entirety of his life among the fabled island castles of Tor Elyr in his homeland of Ellyrion, as such the Human creations of Araby appeared to him quaint and child-like.
Rhea and Maya however were both awed and cowed by the opulence around them. To Rhea the greatest building she'd ever seen was vague memories of a high vaulted cathedral to Sigmar, for her the Sapphire palace had swiftly knocked aside childhood recollections.
Yet it was Maya who suffered the worst of what a palace aimed to do to its guests. Her eyes were widened and she spun her head wildly from side to side. She'd lived in her people's nomadic stretch tents all her life, and since being sold she took quite a while to adjust to life within a building, let alone a wall-enclosed city.
Now in the Emir's palace, walking through the threshold of its arches, craning her neck back to look up at its high painted ceilings and intersecting domes, she couldn't imagine how man could build such a thing from rock and brick.
Yurin drew a heavy breath as he slowly stepped at the fore of the three slaves, hiding his discomfiture as he spoke,
"I am Yurin, seneschal, retainer, and master of tongues for our lady."
The reality of his own introduction made him subconsciously puff with pride. He spoke the message first in Asurian, trying not to fall into Druhir, and then he repeated it in Arabyan for Maya's sake. Expectantly Arathar, Rhea, and Maya followed behind the, now unarmoured, retainer.
"As I'm sure you are each wondering…"
He looked over his shoulder as they turned down a corridor, servants of the palace stepped aside and bowed their heads to him as they passed.
"Your new owner and mistress, is the noble lady; Raveres Morthai Naguii."
Arathar opened his mouth, quietly cringing at all the confirmation he needed. The name was so Druchii it stung his ears.
"You shall refer to her as 'Lady Raveres', or 'my lady'. You shall observe her commands and whims… I have been told that if you serve her well here in Araby, she might endeavour to bring you along once she departs these shores. In addition to this she's relayed to me that I should tell you; Lady Raveres is generous with her favour…"
Yurin pursed his lips as he recited her words, visions of her in battle and then the torturing she'd done came to him vividly,
"…and brutal in her wroth."
They turned down another hall and slowed as they approached the guest chamber which had been granted to the she-elf. Stopping a few yards before the ornately carved portal Yurin scrutinised the slave's faces.
"You may place your affects there."
Pointing to the floor against the wall the three slaves bent and put down their small travel trunks before Yurin continued,
"Now, our lady has been in much battle, she is injured, and she has been kissed by the sun…"
His voice quieted, candidly, as he continued;
"More than this, she has recently lost dear companions, turning to wine, smoke, and now… flesh for solace…"
The retainer stepped back, realising he was being too familiar and 'loose' with his words. Rhea gulped, Maya was still struck by the carpeting and walls around them, and Arathar appeared intent on saying something. Shaking his head Yurin changed his tone,
"My lady has told me that she desires a cool bath, and company…"
The door opened behind him and a servant with an empty tray exited and Arathar leapt at the interruption,
"Yurin, I am an Asur of noble blood, you must convey to your mistress that I am more than willing to pay a ransom and remain her hostage, as opposed to her slave!"
The way he moved his head made Yurin raise a brow incredulously,
"I wouldn't… well." the translator turned and put his hand on the door's handle, "Perhaps you can make such an overture to Lady Raveres…"
Before opening the door, he sternly ordered,
"Once entered you shall all bow to her. After such respect is given, I shall unlock your collars from one another."
…
Turning the handle and pushing the door open Arathar, Rhea, and Maya stepped after Yurin into the incense scented room. The great bedchamber's ceiling hung heavy with a light grey smoke and elaborate brass censers sat in the corners of the plush room, their perfumes rising into the air steadily.
To the one side was a stone bath, while the other was dominated by a great wide bed. Ahead of them was a wide, curtain covered, window and balcony, the curtains were a light material, more ornamental than functional, and sunlight shone through them into the smoky room.
Looking around the three slaves almost couldn't spot their owner, until she let out a breath and opened her eyes. The noise made them look to the bed to realise that she was sitting on it, with her back against the wall, blending in among all the details of the cluttered and plush chamber.
Smoke rose from her mouth and nose as she exhaled, circling around her head and framing her intense violet irises. In her hand was a long golden pipe, the end of which she brought to her mouth again. Her face was devoid of a veil and her long hair was roughly brushed to one side. The skin around her lips and across her cheeks was reddened and painful to look at.
This redness continued down her otherwise pale flesh towards her shoulders and neck. She was clothed in a thin silken garment, the cut of which fell down her arms, coming to rest around her biceps. It exposed the top of her chest, and the thin material did nothing to hide the protrusion of her nipples or the curve of her breasts.
The yellow-red coloured material clung to her sweaty body, falling down her abdomen to rest over the thighs of her extended, criss-crossed, and muscled, ivory legs. Taking a long draw of the pipe, Raveres blinked and titled her head down as she narrowed her widened pupils.
Yurin cleared his throat and the three slaves each lowered in a bow. Arathar begrudgingly complied with the curtesy, but rose from it as quickly as possible as he began to speak.
"Druchii, I am of noble Asurian blood."
Maya, Rhea, and Yurin watched with widening eyes as he spoke out of turn so blatantly. Raveres' retainer, already so unaccustomed to his position didn't know what to do and so the impudent proud high-elf continued,
"I heard your retainer say that you intend to leave Araby! I could make you return home to Naggaroth even richer, if you were but to ransom me?"
Raveres exhaled the smoke from her nostrils and watched the male unblinkingly.
"I know how great the greed of the Druchii is, and I'm sure that my family would no doubt pay greatly for my safe return."
Yurin shut his eyes and cringed, 'Listening to this fool… he seriously does not realise he's digging his own grave?!'
Arathar nodded as he stupidly continued, ignoring Yurin's earlier pointer about how she was to be addressed,
"Lady Naguii I-"
Finally speaking Raveres coldly eyed the sweet-meat, ordering:
"Silence"
Arathar furrowed his brow, in confusion,
"But… I'm offering you a prince's ransom?"
Blinking and turning to the table beside the bed Raveres carefully laid the pipe onto a gold and ebony tray.
"I have enough gold and ransom in my coffers to finance an army…"
She moved her legs slowly to the side of the bed and exhaled as she stood, the silken garment moving and flowing as she turned.
"There's no getting out of this moment for you."
Arathar furrowed his brow and swallowed as he tried to keep his eyes on the Druchii 'cousin's face.
"Yurin, release them and then you are dismissed."
"My lady?" he asked concerned.
"See to yourself, eat… rest." She smiled at the retainer before turning to her slaves, "Care for yourself."
Something about her smile was off putting; it was a mix of lust, domination, intoxication, and… something else, more elusive.
Bowing his head Yurin nodded, unlocking the collars and letting the chains fall to the floor the retainer turned to leave.
"If... if you need anything further my lady, send for me."
…