The Ambition of the Dreadlord Raveres

Part IV: Sa'an'ishar!

Episode Twenty-Eight

Raveres had slept like a corpse.

A satisfying dreamless slumber was a welcome reprieve. She suffered no poppy-sweats, and hadn't woke prematurely from a bladder overfull with last night's wine.

Instead she had struck the perfect balance between enough smoke and the right amount of alcohol. The screams and derisive voices had retreated from her mind and there were no nightmarish creatures lurking in the darkness to torment her.

For some reason since leaving Araby the overall presence of such spectres in her heart had declined sharply, which was not to say that the first few nights aboard the ship were not hard going…

Many of those evenings she had either drank too much or breathed too deeply of her opium. The predictable result of her overindulgence was to spend the hours afterward vomiting either out a porthole or into a bucket, while her handmaid slaves Rhea and Maya tended to her.

Or, if she was spared an ill stomach, she would lay in bed clutching her swirling head; begging the waves to stop their motion altogether. Cursing and beseeching Mathlaan's name in equal measure.

Now though, she'd flushed most of that childish desire out of her system. It helped that the finer bottles of wine were gone too, but more than that Raveres' desire to sober up was also influenced by pragmatic self-interest.

As much as she would have relished getting as high as a Slaaneshi scion she had to be sharp, and maintain her wits; her body, her fighting form, and her sanity.

This came to her most acutely one morning while practising the draw of her sword. Her drilled and steady hand was slower than it should have been; the drawn steel didn't audibly 'snap'.

Immediately Raveres practised till her body was soaked in sweat. Losing count of how many times she repeated the same motion in an effort to 'correct' her lapse.

Though she'd never admit it, the wine and opium had slowed her elvish muscles.

Yesterday was a crescendo in both boredom and exercise. Which no doubt contributed to her restful sleep.

After running the deck for an hour armour-less, and then an hour in full plate, with additional weight, she determined to allow herself only one bottle of wine.

Once the last of it was down her throat, the Druchii collapsed into the embrace of her bed, issuing a low satisfied laugh as she fell asleep.

…

Above Raveres a soft chime rang out from the ships' morning bell, while all around her the vessel and cabin creaked and groaned robustly, a warm reassurance to be found in the ships' sound construction.

More immediate to her skin was the caress-like touch of her blankets. The sheeting of her bed was warm and soft all around her. Her nude legs were wrapped and nestled inside the folds of material just right and the weight of the sheet across her back too; was just right.

For one of the first mornings in a long while she felt no worry. She felt as if she could have kept her eyes closed and been transported ten years into the past. As if it were a youthful summer's day with little planned for her to have to do…

From that strange memory she childishly asked herself, 'Perhaps… I might even sleep in?'

Before opening her eyes fully, she contemplated it. And some part of her heart wanted to make it manifest. But unfortunately, the ship's bell wasn't the only noise of the morning.

Off the edge of her bed she heard the slaves stir and whisper amongst themselves. They too were awake. Though their voices were quiet and innocuous enough that she might have been able to ignore them, she regretfully knew better.

The Druchii had to force herself out of bed and greet the sun, once more.

Raveres exhaled contentedly, comforting herself by thinking about the lazy, slow pace she'd be able to relish with waking, and dressing, and then eating…

All of which was stolen away when she heard a muffled voice from the door to the cabin and the loud thumping of a fist against the wood.

"Lady Raveres! Lady Raveres, please awake, there's something for you to see above deck!"

With a grumble she thought quickly, 'Yurin…'

Hearing him repeat his message confirmed the identity of the 'interloper' and the bliss of her enjoyable slumber waned as the tension in her physical body became apparent; her right arm ached and was as stiff as if it had been frozen and then beaten with sticks.

She had fallen asleep with it hanging off the side of the bed, the circulation having been restricted by her bedding. The tranquillity of her restful sleep was now replaced by the soreness in her muscles, a tightness in her body, and the throbbing of her forehead.

Wiggling her fingers and moving her arm to help push her body off the mattress her skin tingled with pins and needles, irritating and making her feel somewhat uncomfortable.

Fatigued muscles, while irritating, were not unfamiliar. Yet the throbbing and tightness Raveres was beginning to feel was not from her workout nor her drinking.

'Ugh… how strange that now this decides to happen?' shaking herself she blinked, 'Water' she thought purposefully, 'All things are better with water.'

With a groan and a roll, she moved onto her back, pausing a moment before pushing the bedsheet off of her head.

The movement of her slaves and the impatient shuffling of Yurin's feet outside the door sounded loudly that there'd be no return to the embrace of sleep.

Blinking her eyes and looking around the ceiling beams Raveres continued to grunt and growl, clearing her throat of the phlegm and residue of the night. Her noises rose until finally she became successful.

'Ha ha! Got the bastard…' she thought before mumbling a strange noise of triumph.

Involuntarily Raveres then gagged as she moved the mucus from the back of her tongue forwards.

Then sitting up she turned, and with a strong exhale, spat a thick globule of phlegm onto the left wall of the cabin below the glass windows.

Tilting her head, she studied it in the gloomy lighting for a moment before shuddering at herself. Imagining the voice of Elianna deriding her she laughed, 'That's rather un-ladylike.'

As if also commenting on her spitting her human retainer's voice came through the wood, and Yurin asked, more insistently than before, "My lady?"

Sighing and nodding she responded, "Yes-yes, I hear you. I'm awake."

Stretching her sword-hand and flexing her fingers while she opened her mouth, she added, "Enter…" before her voice was lost amidst the stretch and loud yawn.

The door creaked open and Yurin's bright face entered, his expression cooling somewhat, before returning as he repeated, "There's something you ought to see topside."

Furrowing her brow and rubbing her cheeks and nose Raveres asked plainly, her voice neutral in tone, "What is it that I must see?"

Yurin forced a smile, "You really should come up milady."

Raveres' hair was tussled about, strands standing and pointing in different directions from how she had slept, while her sleeping 'gown', a loose-fitting tunic with a liberal vee, was wrinkled and barely remained straight on her torso.

Closing her eyes and swinging her body to the side of the bed she nodded before her voice returned,

"Ugh, it can wait. And I'd rather not have a surprise. So, while I continue to shake off this veil of sleep…"

The Druchii raised and clapped her hands. Immediately her slaves stood off the floor and moved to action, their morning routine having become well-learned.

Adding to their general movement she sternly ordered, "Water."

Rhea quickly moved to a sideboard table in front of the windows. It was laden with bottles, one of which was clear glass, filled with crystal Arabyan 'sweet water'. Uncorking it she grabbed an empty silver cup and poured it full of the beverage.

With a smirk of satisfaction Raveres tried to ignore the three servants as she looked at Yurin and straightened her back, "I'd like you to tell me what I'm to expect above deck, additionally I'd like the short-calls of last night's watch."

The retainer blinked and his face betrayed his surprise at Raveres' morning sharpness. Usually she wasn't nearly as eloquent this early in the day but even he could perceive a shift in her demeanour.

Seeing his expression, the Druchii's levity evapourated as she snapped, "I'm not that hungover Yuri…"

After handing her mistress the cup of water Rhea moved to the side of Raveres' bed, locating her mistress' hairbrush. The other female, Maya, had set towards preparing the Druchii's day clothes, arms and armour, while Arathar was to clean the cabin; rolling up the slaves' blankets and sleeping mats before next making Raveres' bed.

So far, the three moved with familiarity, their sea-going routine was just about second nature.

After taking a much-needed drink Raveres eyed her retainer sternly until he bowed his head, and his voice quieted,

"Aye milady, I merely…" stopping himself he curtly nodded, "My apologies."

Downing the whole cupful Raveres sighed contentedly, "You are forgiven. Now, what is so important for me to see?"

Yurin smirked before his voice returned, eager and excitedly, "We've since finished our path along the Estalian shelf, the mid-night watch declared it a few hours ago before the shift change."

Rhea began brushing and lightly grooming Raveres' hair while the Druchii smirked and chuckled happily, "Have we sighted Bretonnia then?"

Yurin answered with a bow at the neck and a wide, genuine, smile, "We have indeed my lady."

Closing her eyes and sitting for a moment Raveres eventually let out a chuckle, "Excellent news so far…"

Looking over her shoulder she spoke an order, almost surprising Yurin with the sudden change, "Draw it into a loose braid Rhea." Bowing her head, the blonde imperial meekly replied, "Yes mistress."

Putting the comb down Rhea quickly and expertly began running her fingers through Raveres' silver locks. Twirling and moving the strands with ease, the young woman gave her Druchii mistress the typical coiffure of a teenage imperial girl: the braid was loose at the top, but tightened nearer the end, requiring no string or bow to remain knotted, it remained in place by the trick of a twirl.

Withdrawing her hands to indicate when she was finished Raveres made a curt noise in affirmation before rising from the bed, "Help Maya ready my clothes."

Punctuating the order, the Druchii began pulling her night tunic over her head and shaking out her arms, stretching them as she stood and waited, her chest now bare, save for her necklace and dangling amulet.

The nicks, bites, and stitched slashes across Raveres' arms and chest had healed for the most part, leaving red, irritated looking scratches, and a few bumpy white lines of scar tissue.

Yet without missing a beat, Raveres looked over her shoulder at Yurin, asking, "What's Kohler think then, hmm?"

Yurin nodded before averting his eyes. She'd turned this into part of her morning routine, something Yurin understood as a power move of sorts… But now, he'd become so used to her pale, scarred skin, that he stood stiffly at attention, eyes forwards, as he spoke.

"Kohler is optimistic; he says we've got the tide and that the trade lane is quite active, both points in our favour. To avoid unwanted interest, he's put up and is currently flying the colours of an Arabyan merchant. He says we'll be able to slip along and see our passengers off in two days or so."

Pursing her lips and nodding quietly Raveres 'mm-ed', while Rhea and Maya assisted her to dress, then punctuating the noise she forced out a curt word, "Good."

Watching as her 'handmaids' went about their work, Raveres raised a brow, and lightly coughed; clearing her throat, before asking another question, "How's the crew today?"

Yurin nodded and began a report of not only the crew's demeanour but also the health of the slaves below deck, the ship's supplies, the weather, and so on. While he talked, Raveres thought, her mind wandering as her slaves dressed her clothes and applied her armour.

So far through their sailing few incidents of negative character occurred between the varied and strange assortment of passengers, crew, and cargo.

Thankfully the slave stock below required only the occasional scourging to keep them in line and maintain discipline.

Rhea and Maya had become quite compliant and dutiful, only Maya still had a spark of fire in her eyes when she looked at Raveres. After Arathar and Kohler's brief 'pissing match' the two were seldom in the same area as one another and hadn't had any similar such incidents.

Kohler and his officers had proven to be most professional since they made it to open sea, and like the men of her Druchii Hakseer crew before, the humans sailing the ship knew enough to keep their distance and mind their tongues around Raveres.

No doubt the tantalising idea of a ship of his own and a hoard of booty had encouraged Kohler's improvement in attitude as well as his loyalty.

Shaking her head as she thought Raveres chuckled, 'Why, even Jacque and his companion have been docile!'

'Though, on that score it that may be because they desire so desperately to get home…' Raveres wondered with a raised brow, smirking to herself she continued, 'Though that's a sentiment I can quite readily understand.'

With a contented breath Raveres pursed her lips.

'While I dislike that yellow skinned human, she's not done anything suspicious or strange; she's been visible most of the time, yet quiet.'

A brief thought of paranoia rose as the Druchii narrowed her eyes, 'perhaps she's merely acting as the 'good' passenger?'

Cocking a brow, she reconsidered, 'Or perhaps not… if she wanted ill towards me, she'd have done it already.'

With a flash of frustration, she drew a breath, 'Perhaps I'm merely thinking too much of it all?'

Tilting her head to the side Raveres sighed again.

Since her Hakseer began nothing had gone quite as well as it had in the past days so far. Something which uneased her anytime she thought about it.

Being so close to going home was beginning to feed a sensation of anxiety as strong as an ulcer in her belly. And envy… Her passengers, the squire and the easterner, they'd be away in days, securely on dry land whereas Raveres would be months more at sea, and the risk would mount every moment until she was finally walking off the docks in Blacklight.

'Getting to Karond Kar will be almost as much a gauntlet as the city itself!'

At the thought of the slaver's city, Raveres pictured her desires and 'dreams'; how easily they could turn to dust.

Tightening her sword belt and dismissing Rhea and Maya, Raveres stepped out of the cabin, drowning the doubting thoughts with the loud, prayer-like, mantra: 'Gold and glory, gold and glory! Home and Naggaroth awaits me! And I shall see a true Naguii homecoming to remember!'

The vague mental image of her family awaiting her at Blacklight's docks began to form… Their faces, stern and statuesque, paled as Raveres watched herself disembark. Flanked by her lavishly dressed slaves, she was also wreathed in incense. Arabyan silks were draped over her armour, and they all looked at her with envy…

Her cheeks lightened and her ears rose gleefully, 'By Khaine I can see it!'

Yurin followed beside her closely as she walked towards the stairs to the upper deck. All the while he had chatted away as she thought and fantasised.

As much as she would have hoped to remain in her daydream, Raveres sternly reminded herself, 'No one's luck lasts forever…'

'I'm sure that setting Captain Kohler in his place at the beginning of our voyage has helped contribute to this air of 'luck', but I can't help but feel…'

Nodding to herself Raveres tensed as she mounted the stairs to the surface.

'Whatever comes, I must merely be ready. Ready for anything.'

A cool salty breeze greeted her and Yurin as they rose from the hold. Morning sunshine and light clouds speckled the bright blue sky above them.

'The gods have surely tested me before. This run of fortune… I know it's a test as well. As Riccard used to say; Victory tests one's mettle as much as battle.'

With a private smile Raveres nodded, mumbling aloud, "How true…"

Looking up at the clear sky and watching the small clouds floating so far away Raveres shook her head in disbelief, "Even the weather has been holding."

There had only been a few nights so far where the ship was hit by swells and rain, but it was markedly smoother than when she had journeyed to Araby.

Looking down from the sky Raveres had a comic thought, 'Mathlaan, you certainly are a curious sort.'

When the crewmen noticed her arrival, they each nodded their head in deference to their patroness before swiftly returning to their duties. Once they dispersed from the rail Raveres could finally see it…

Behind the sailors, and creeping just a few miles from the crest of the horison, was a thin band of continent. Streaks of greenery; fields and woods, topped grey and white stone cliffs and the occasional low, sloping beach indicated the fabled lands of Bretonnia.

Scanning her eyes across the horison the Druchii was surprised to finally see such a contrast to the typical sight of open ocean and the occasional glimpse of what she assumed was Estalia's northern coast.

After thinking of that country, she furrowed her brow and turned her head to her side at Yurin, a question now burning on her lips; "How is it that we know that is Bretonnia?"

The retainer paused, "I suppose the captain has the best answer to that?"

Furrowing her brow and searching the deck Raveres failed to find the swarthy, stubble-covered, human.

"And he is, where, exactly?"

Yurin squinted as he looked up and pointed towards the ship's mainmast.

Raveres nodded dully, "Ah."

Taking a few steps forwards and stopping below the thick mast the she-elf cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled upwards to the crow's nest, "Captain Kohler!"

On cue, and with a surprised expression, the scruffy human poked his head over the side of the lookout.

"Aye?" Stuttering and correcting himself he repeated, more respectfully, "Aye, my lady?!"

Rather than clarify anything Raveres merely looked up at him quietly and waited. Her right hand on her hip while her left shielded her eyes.

Kohler quickly grumbled and eventually lifted himself up and over the edge of the basket-like nest. Wrapping his arms and legs into a free line of rope he zipped down to the deck expertly, jumping the last few feet to land in front of his mistress with a chuckle.

Offering the she-elf a bow at the neck he then smiled before speaking, "Good morning my lady."

Tilting her head in acknowledgement Raveres stepped towards the starboard rail while pointing, "We're in Bretonnian waters now, yes?"

Pursing his lips and grunting as he squinted across the water Kohler nodded.

"We are indeed, more or less, heh! And from what I saw up there, we've got only a few ships up ahead. Fishing barges and trade caravels by the looks of it. Nothing like a patrol to worry your ears about."

Raveres looked out the corner of her eyes at the man as he smirked.

Today he had on a coloured Tilean style blouse, the pin-stitching was expertly sewn, but the top was left un-buttoned; curly brown hairs and the hint of the man's collar bones could be seen. Even this early in the day Kohler's skin glistened with a light dappling of sweat.

His face and neck were lightly tanned and since they left Araby he had taken to wearing a thin cloth band across his forehead like he was a rogue.

Looking away from the human she nodded, "I see…"

A few moments passed and Kohler leant forwards, resting his elbows on the railing before Raveres asked another question, "When do you think we'll arrive in port?"

Moving his head from side to side he thought, scratching a hand through the bristles of his chin before replying, "From what the squire's said about our destination, and with our current speed and heading, I'd say we might make dock by midday tomorrow."

Raising a brow Raveres exhaled, "That soon?"

"Aye." He motioned with his hand generally, "If the wind holds, we'll be making it past Brionne and along to the squire's home before the witching hour tonight."

The Druchii breathed contentedly, "Good."

Without thinking however, Kohler continued talking, voicing a protest which he had made two days prior, "But, I still think we could have saved a day of travel if we'd sailed closer to Estalia and hugged the shore near Bilbali."

Before Raveres could adequately temper her response, he added, "I mean you could have even sold some of your stock in the city." He chuckled, "I know of several men who fence goods and even trade in flesh. I know for certain that they could have gotten you fair coin for the spices and slaves you've below."

Raveres' eyes snapped to the man and she stepped closer, ignoring the scent of sweat wafting off him and their physical proximity. She suppressed a snarl as she declared, "Estalia is no friend to me, and I am no friend to it! I will not even suffer the foul sight of that country if I am able to."

Sneering and narrowing her eyes at the man she leant back, forcing herself to control her sudden rush of anger.

"Button your damn shirt Kohler, until we reach Karond Kar this is still my ship."

Standing stiffly with wide eyes the man bit his tongue in surprise; Raveres' viper-like change had genuinely startled the man and he quietly nodded as he slowly moved his hands away from the rail.

Drawing a breath, the Druchii stepped along the deck as she elaborated, "Estalia is a country of pirates, beggars, and thieves. A whole principality's worth."

Tilting her head as she looked over her shoulder, she almost cooed as she boasted, "I'd see the city of Bilbali put to the scourge if I had but the swords and the nauglir to do it."

Kohler straightened his back as he furrowed his brow tensely and nodded hesitantly.

Yurin merely watched on, stiffly and with his mouth pursed. Cringing the young retainer wanted to cover his eyes as he saw Kohler's mouth and face move again.

"I'm sure you could find a company or two in Tilea more than willing to help you with that desire!"

Stepping towards the quarterdeck and helm Raveres responded, somewhat reservedly, "A campaign for another time."

Watching the she-elf walk along the deck, her retainer following besides, Kohler finally stood down, a small sense of self-preservation winning as he quietly replied, "Understood."

'Gods below! Listen to yourself?' Raveres scolded, 'This is nothing! Calm yourself…'

Stopping mid-step, the she-elf paused, before turning back around to look at Kohler. She recomposed herself and her voice shifted, "Shall we walk the deck captain?"

With a nod he stepped ahead, "As you wish my lady."

The two spoke for a while as they marched up and down the length of the ship.

…

"It's your roll prince."

Arathar furrowed his brow as he looked at the board. So far, he'd been bleeding gold and silver coins; his small purse sat, deflated and nearly empty near his hand.

This latest run hadn't been good; each cup-full of dice he had played was getting worse. But he couldn't stop himself.

Almost everything he had left was now on the table.

His opponent was a fellow elf, but his hair, blacker than night, was slicked back with a sharp widow's peak. Streaks of grey ran asymmetrically on the left of his head and the colour was similar to that of his pale, corpse-like, skin.

The man's features were cold and gaunt. His flesh appeared dried and stretched over the muscles and bones underneath. Blue and blackish coloured veins could be seen under the thin surface of his skin, sickly and weak looking.

His small mouth was wrinkled, like he'd been eating nothing but sour, rotten, fruit.

Studying the appearance of the man had distracted Arathar, and when he tried to mentally tally his current score he blanked.

Feeling his chest tighten the man's taunting voice returned, the words dripping with spite as he asked, "What's wrong princeling? Do you no longer wish to play?"

Shaking his head Arathar grit his teeth. Silently he wished that he had the might of arms to force others to respect him. But he had no such personal prowess, and he had no retainers. No bodyguards at all. A stupid mistake…

And worse than that, he couldn't remember why he was playing with this man alone in the first place.

Looking away from the board and back up at his opponent, the gaunt wraith-like man smirked, his small mouth almost straining to make the expression.

A thin and pale hand reached upwards and ran through his oil-slick hair, hitting the tip of his right elven ear. The brush made the silver rings and jewellery piercing the cartilage jingle musically. The sound was far more disquieting than it should have been.

Arathar swallowed heavily.

The man's voice returned, this time more sternly, his tone becoming metallic and echoing unnaturally; "Roll the dice Asur…"

Picking up his cup and shaking it, Arathar realised he had no command over his movements. Why couldn't he move his own arms? Why wasn't he shaking the cup like he usually did?

His eyes widened, he wanted to scream…

'This all seems familiar…' his mind raced.

"no… no… no!"

Arathar wanted to run away, kick the table over, scatter the pieces and the coins and just run… All the way back to Ulthuan.

'But why can't I?' he wondered in a growing panic.

"ROLL THE DICE ASUR!" The man in front of him commanded.

Looking at Arathar's expression made the man begin laughing, his wrinkled, weathered, lifeless, skin stretched unnaturally he roared with laughter.

The macabre expression made Arathar want to weep in terror.

But his body wouldn't allow it.

And then his hand slipped and the cup spilled his dice. He needed a total of seven and the first die clicking dully as the ivory cube flipped end over end to finally land on five. The second die landed, with a single pip staring up at him; six.

Sweat rolled down Arathar's brow, dribbling through his tight and well-groomed eyebrow. A drop moved into the corner of his eye but he dare not blink it away.

His vision was fixed on the third die. Of the three it had rolled the farthest… clicking and bumping closer and closer towards his opponent on the other side of the table.

It landed…

One, slightly off centred, pip was staring upwards.

Arathar's face dropped and he lit up.

"Seven!?" he cried. His whole body rejoicing.

The man opposite him tilted his head, scrutinising the die. Then after a moment of contemplation the man extended his arm; reaching his long, weathered fingers, towards the ivory cube. Then, with the dexterity of a spider, he rubbed the pad of his index finger across the die's surface.

As he did it revealed a second pip, off-setting the first and showing that it was one of a pair.

The realisation emptied all the air from Arathar's chest and he shuddered, whispering in pure defeat, "No…"

The Asur's body froze. His blood became ice water in his veins and his breath cooled in front of him.

"No!"

His opponent resumed his laughter and began growing in size, flipping the board and table over as he dominated the room. Coins and die loudly clicked and clanged as the man lunged forwards. Looming over Arathar the man's body continued to expand; his skin tearing and peeling away to reveal a formless, pitch black, creature within.

"NO!"

There was no face to behold, nothing which gave the being a form except for a maddening maw; it dripped of ichor and was lined with wide, yellow, and jagged teeth.

The man's arms became many, and Arathar tried as hard as he could to look away as the nightmarish creature slithered forwards.

A laugh now emanated from the feted and black, lipless, mouth.

It was familiar, and strangely Arathar no longer felt as terrified… He knew it was a dream… but something was, something was different.

A hand, slender and feminine, extended from the mouth and downwards, moving through the air towards Arathar's chest. The nails of the hand were long and filed to points, the colour of the quick was almost as pale as the skin of the arm.

Smoke circled him now and there was no sound, except for the familiar womanish laugh.

…

Blinking his eyes open and waking with a start Arathar grunted and looked around. His chest was slick with sweat and he threw his thin cotton sheet off as he tried to catch his breath and slow the drum-like beat of his heart.

Running his fingers through his hair and brushing it from his eyes he shuddered and looked across the room. Unlike his mistress his rest hadn't been pleasant…

Instead he was plagued by the same dream, the same nightmare; a game he couldn't win, no matter the roll, no matter his luck.

Taking a moment to calm and remember where he was, the general dread of his current predicament made him wish he hadn't.

The wooden cabin aboard the ship had become his 'home' for nearly a fortnight now. And for the first week he, and his fellow slaves, had been having a hard time adjusting to such extended and intense doses of their mistress' company and her Druchii ways.

Sordid evenings of alcohol and poppy oil were the norm, as were mood swings and vicious demands. As if some form of blessing, Raveres' carnal demands were not as frequent as the Asur had feared before their departure from Araby.

But regardless of their frequency, the exhaustive toll of their Druchii master wore not only on Arathar but Maya, but especially the younger Rhea.

Drawing a breath Arathar began looking towards the other side of the room.

With a disappointed shudder he saw the pale arm of his mistress. It remained hanging from the edge of her bed, and in the gloom of the wooden cabin Arathar watched it sway back and forth to the steady motion of the ship.

Underneath the bed an empty green bottle rolled from side to side nearly touching her fingers.

Taking a breath and centring himself Arathar blinked before he rubbed his eyes. Beside him a voice whispered, startling at first before he recognised it and felt a strange assurance.

"Same dream as before?"

Looking to his side he saw a small human face nestled between greasy blonde locks of hair.

Rhea was lying on her side, with her upper body exposed from under her blanket, her right arm above her head, and her left across her belly.

Her pillow and bedroll were nearer to Arathar's than Maya and since the beginning of their voyage the Asur had noticed that the imperial Rhea had become far closer to him in general as well.

Despite their language barrier, Maya made no effort to hide her gaze when she looked at Arathar, and he felt a strange tightness in his chest whenever he thought of either woman. He knew that what he felt was an involuntary affinity towards the two humans.

They were, for a lack of a better phrase; 'in it together'; having been made allies by circumstance and necessity.

Rhea sniffled and exhaled through her nose before moving a hand and shifting a few strands of hair from around her nostrils and off her cheeks.

Clearing his throat to answer her question, Arathar grunted, "Yes… same as before."

Looking at her face, he could barely make out her rosy features in the lighting of the cabin. But he had a feeling he knew what her expression was, and he regretted that she seemed so keen on him. Yet he knew it was only bound to happen… The same too with Maya, although to a lesser degree.

Raveres' demands of 'entertainment' had forced them to make shows of carnal intimacy, but none of them were courtesans or actors. And Arathar thought quite a bit about how their copulation was bound to result in some kind of extended connection.

However perverse, or warped, it was, their three-way relationship was tinged with something more. Despite the origins of their interaction, Arathar knew that Rhea silently sought solace and comfort in his company.

'Yet it shouldn't be… this is already wrong by every convention I know.' He shivered, 'I couldn't resent this more… I couldn't resent her more…'

Looking towards the Druchii's bed, he pursed his lips and drew a heavy breath as he nodded.

"Same as before." He wearily repeated.

Rhea's mouth moved and her brow furrowed in pain.

Raising her left arm, she felt across the space between their bedrolls and touched along his sheet until she reached him. The elf's skin was clammy but she pressed her fingers against him regardless.

Arathar's breathing paused sharply, and though he didn't recoil from the touch, he did feel a pang of regret. Guilt weighed on him for the soiling his body had taken, and for the soiling he himself had done.

He'd laid with two humans, and more than that he'd become a slave to a Druchii. And somehow, even worse, he had given in to Raveres' demands and orders; going so far as to partake and indulge willingly.

Like an animal, he had savoured the pleasures of the flesh…

The only saving grace Arathar knew he had was the guilt which he still felt. So long as he felt guilt, he wasn't beyond hope.

So, despite the natural pleasure of wine, he had to convince himself it was sour. The smoke which wreathed the air was poison, and the idea of sexual gratification with either Rhea or Maya filled him with penitent revulsion.

After the first few days of sailing, Arathar had thought he knew what to expect of his mistress, and of his new status.

Yet how wrong he was.

He couldn't recall now what it was which had set her off, but as it seemed to him, it didn't take much to bring Raveres to ire anyway. Like what he had heard of her Druchii kin she was quick to anger and slow to cool, and slower still to be merciful if at all.

So, she hit them, him most, but she beat and whipped all three slaves of them with regularity. Sometimes she'd announce that it was in an effort to 'correct' their faults, or any perceived lapses in behaviour. But eventually she neglected any kind of explanation, and merely delivered the punishment with a silence and focus, afterwards banishing them from her cabin or leaving the room herself for a few hours.

Arathar also couldn't recall now when he started having this nightmare, but he took solace that he wasn't the only one. In a moment of quiet Rhea had revealed that she too was plagued by Raveres, even in sleep.

Bringing the Asur out of his thoughts was Rhea's moving. Blinking and sheepishly looking away from the handsome elf she whispered, "We should be coming to the Bretonnian coast soon."

Her voice and sing-song pronunciation of Asurian made Arathar smile privately; wherever she had learned to speak elvish her teacher had to have been from the south of Ulthuan.

Moving her hand away from Arathar's skin Rhea slowly rose from her bedroll to sit.

Nodding and clearing his throat Arathar raised his knees and slowly pressed his forehead to them as he wrapped his hands around himself.

"Right… Bretonnia."

Their voices, though quiet, made Maya stir with sleepy groans. However, it was the ship's bell which finally made the third slave wake.

Blinking and shuddering the dark-skinned woman darted around, her bare breasts and sweat covered chest exposed as she raised a fist.

"What that?!" she exclaimed, first in her own language then in elven.

As per one of Raveres' orders, Rhea had been tutoring Maya in Asurian, it was slow coming, but the former nomad was learning a few basics.

Rhea looked over to her fellow human, hoping to calm her, "It's merely the ships' bell. It's morning Maya."

The swarthy woman pursed her lips, looking at her fellow slaves for a moment before eventually groaning and lying backwards. Reaching a hand to rub her face and eyes she quietly agreed, her accent still heavy as she mumbled, "Another day…"

Arathar dryly chuckled.

Slowly raising his head, he rested his chin on a knee and he looked back at the pale, swaying, arm of their sleeping mistress contemplatively.

"Another day." He whispered to himself.

He tensed and furrowed his brow as he wondered, 'How much longer in service shall I be to this Druchii?'

After Maya's breath slowed and she calmed the room settled once again, and the three of them listening to the swaying, creaking, and muffled noises of the ship.

The bottle under Raveres' bed continued to roll to and fro noisily. And the tips of her fingers nearly touched the glass as it moved across the floorboards.

He shook his head and drew a long contemplative breath.

His mind emptied and all three slaves shot up rigidly when there was a loud knock upon the cabin's door.

"Lady Raveres! Lady Raveres please awake, there's something for you to see above deck."

The voice was familiar, and could only have been the retainer Yurin.

Under her covers the Druchii's body stirred.

The arm slowly retracted from the edge of the bed, disappearing into the dark sheeting above.

A low grumble began rising from the mass of material as Raveres took in a breath and slowly, moved, jostling herself to consciousness.

Arathar watched as the Druchii seemingly announced her waking by issuing a sneering, almost adolescent, growl, before coughing and mumbling to herself.

Once she sat up, she turned towards the window and spat, loudly, onto the wall, a disgusting, boyish expression of self-satisfaction across her face.

The Asur couldn't help but feel a shudder of revulsion as he watched her continue to move. 'Dare I test her ire again?' he thought. With a breath of confidence, he nodded, 'I… I must! I am no slave…'

His expression faltered and he quickly remembered the last time he had brought the subject up and wearily thought, 'This wasn't supposed to happen…'

…

A few days prior Arathar had made the mistake of thinking Raveres' wine would have made her more agreeable. It hadn't, and instead she was irritated, something he had failed to notice throughout the meal in her cabin.

After again daring to suggest she ransom him home Raveres seemed to have had enough for the day and became irate. Rising from her seat she took Arathar by the hair and dragged him to the top deck.

She whipped him with her belt, ordering him to strip and be humiliated. She didn't even notice the night watch of sailors, but for Arathar's sake they didn't take too much of an interest in either of the elves.

The beating continued steadily… the poor Asur moaning in pain and issuing desperate pleas.

He could feel her cold eyes on his flesh as readily as the sting of her makeshift whip. And the feeling filled him with pure dread and helplessness.

Cocking her head to the side and pulling her belt taut between her hands Raveres scrutinised Arathar's face.

"I don't think that you understand Asur… I have no plans of letting you go." Her words were carefully spoken, but a slight slur ran underneath.

Keeping his hands flat in front of him he shivered from the lack of clothing and the wind across the deck. The bruises and wounds across his back made him pulse with pain.

"P-please!" he begged.

The leather struck his skin again and he shuddered violently before crying aloud, his voice cracking;

"Why?! Why not? Let me go Druchii!"

Raveres snarled and hissed, lowering towards him, "I owe you nothing, no explanation and no words! You are mine! And that is all you are to know!"

Her expression shifted; a drunken slip in her masque, as her voice rose nearly playfully, "And I shan't make the same mistake twice."

Arathar blinked in confusion at her words, daring to look over his shoulder at her equally strange expression.

"Such pretty eyes Rathy. So pretty…"

Arathar gulped and remained as still as possible but the wind cut bitterly along his skin.

Slowly Raveres extended her right hand to stroke the side of his head and hair. Like he was a pet…

The Druchii's cheeks were pink, flush from her wine, and she issued a giggle before giving Arathar a pat-like slap across his cheek.

Leaning her head back and straightening her neck the Druchii cooed sadistically, her voice changing and becoming eerily ignorant of what she'd been doing, "You can sleep up here tonight… Take the time to think about things."

Slowly standing she took a few steps carefully to maintain her inebriated balance.

"Perhaps then you might better understand your place."

For some reason she thought her own words funny and laughed to herself as she left Arathar, bloodied and cold, on the ships' deck.

…

The memory was fresh, and he'd be lying if Arathar were to say he didn't want to just give in and hope for the best. But something which Raveres had said stuck with him, and reliving his recent beating made him whisper it to himself, 'the same mistake twice…'

He furrowed his brow to himself, thinking deeply as she paused her conversation with Yurin and clapped her hands.

The signal to officially start their 'work' was accompanied by an extra order, of "Water"

Quietly groaning as he rose from his bedroll he set to his duties, but made sure to listen to Raveres and Yurin, his thoughts also continuing to plot along, 'What else could she have meant?'

The retainer seemed excited now as he spoke, and while Rhea was combing Raveres hair, Arathar clearly heard it; and from the Druchii's lips no less.

"So, we've sighted Bretonnia then?"

The Asur's heart skipped a beat while he tucked the three bed rolls away.

Hope.

'So… we're going to be…' he hid a shiver, 'Do I dare even think of it? Let alone say the word?'

His mind was so loud he couldn't hear anything but his own thoughts.

'Escape'

He swallowed heavily, 'If she refuses to bargain, if I cannot match her in a fight, and if I want to keep my life…'

Arathar nodded, 'It's… it's the only way.'

He blinked rapidly, his eyes moving with strange excitement as he fantasised his flight from the ship, across the Bretonnian countryside, and to freedom.

Once Raveres was dressed she and Yurin exited the cabin, the human retainer chatting all the while.

Drawing a shallow breath, he looked towards his fellow slaves.

Maya sat on Raveres' personal chest, looking at her nails contemplatively and Rhea was using a hand mirror to adjust her own hair and search her face.

Arathar had to make Raveres' bed and then the three would be able to leave the cabin for their meal in the ships' mess.

'Do I dare?' he thought with a heavy thump of his heart.

Stepping towards the bedside and taking hold of the sheets the elf's skin rippled and his hair stood on end from a nervous chill.

"Rhea?" he asked.

Blinking and putting the hand mirror down on the makeshift boudoir. The youthful blonde turned and looked at him with a quiet nod, "Yes?"

…

Raveres and Kohler walked for almost an hour before the desire to break her fast outweighed her desire to appear 'commanding'.

With a curt noise she dismissed the man and headed back below deck, intent to seek out the ships' cook and mess.

Stepping along the wider main hallway the pair eventually reached the vessel's eating area. Turning into the room Raveres and Yuri were greeted with the scent of boiling gruel, the coals of the kitchen's fire, and the tell-tale scent of freshly butchered seafood.

Two long tables sat in the middle of the room with benches running alongside. At the fore of the large mess sat the ironwork kitchen; a wide black cooktop sat over the wood fed fire on the one side, while a long bar for smoking meat and hanging cookpots loomed over the other.

Minding the potful of gruel was a grizzled looking bald-headed seadog sitting on a stool, and beside him dressing and gutting fish was a young, fresh-faced, wild haired youth. The two bickered and spoke with one another with familiarity, chuckling and trading insults in their rough language as they cooked.

A few sailors sat and chatted while they ate nearer the two cooks, but Raveres' brow raised when she saw her passengers at the other of the two mess tables.

Shen and Jacque appeared to be in light conversation, sipping at cups of water while they ate their thin porridge and seared mackerel.

Pointing to the cooks Raveres lowly grunted, "Yurin, food."

He chuckled, and responded casually, "Aye milady."

The she-elf sniggered as she added, "Light on the gruel heavy on the fish, yes? I'm famished…"

The retainer nodded as she approached the small Breton squire from behind. Shen's expression tensed but she politely bowed her head in greeting to Raveres all the same. Surprising Jacque the Druchii greeted the two by name,

"Little Jacque, Shen, I trust you've heard Kohler's news?"

The young Bretonnian smiled and bowed his head as Raveres sat beside him, but the two could only blink at the she-elf's words. Speedily scampering to the table with Raveres' meal Yurin translated.

Jacque nodded happily and Shen replied, "We have milady."

Taking a clean utensil from a wooden cup at the centre of the table Raveres shuddered in anticipation as she began eating.

Once Raveres had a few bites of food in her she seemed to have relaxed, her face and shoulders softening as she set into genuine conversation.

Jacque was beside himself, and even Shen felt somewhat disarmed.

Even though Yurin was the go between, the Druchii abandoned pretence and for the first time of their voyage she spoke and acted as she had when she first accompanied Jacque… Or as close to that as she could muster.

The four ate and spoke together as they were; odd companions. Raveres even went so far as to joke, with them.

But eventually she arrived at something which had bothered her for a while.

"I'm disappointed young Jacque, I thought you'd have learnt much Druhir by now. Wherever is your little book?"

Once Yurin translated the words the youth tensed and his expression grew sullen, "After I was taken, I…" he let out a short huff in disappointment, "I don't know what happened to it."

Raveres' lips betrayed her own feelings on the matter. Letting out a breath and nodding the Breton looked from Shen to Raveres with a pursed mouth. Studying the human for a while the she-elf appeared to have made up her mind, and looked to her retainer.

"Yurin, how much gold would you say might help outfit a Bretonnian knight with a library?"

Yuri blinked and let out a surprised scoff, "Well my lady I actually wouldn't know!"

Jacque looked from one to the other in confusion while Shen's right brow raised as she ate a spoonful of her meal.

Raveres smirked, "I'm feeling generous."

Furrowing his brow Jacque laughed nervously while Yurin explained that Raveres wanted to give him a gift.

"We have scales aboard the ship do we not? How about his weight in coin? That might adequately aid him."

Jacque laughed and his face flushed in disbelief as he protested, "Y-you're not serious, are you?"

Reaching her left hand to Jacque's shoulder Raveres pinched him and shook him easily, "You're a half-starved little scarecrow." She chuckled, "But I'm sure it'd wouldn't hurt."

Jacque looked at Shen and laughed, "By the Lady! I… I," he jittered with excitement, "This is unbelievable!"

Shen nodded along with the youth before looking at the she-elf, "You're a splendid host Lady Raveres."

Pursing her lips and looking into her bowl the Druchii stiffened.

Like it was his name day Jacque began laughing and smiling widely, chattering away with excitement and optimism. It was obvious his forced happiness was a poor form of control over an otherwise sensitive and emotional journey. No one could forget, Sir Jean was embalmed and lying in a coffin just a few decks below. And Jacque obviously had no plan or wits as to what he was to do once he landed, and as far as Raveres knew, he had no allies either.

Though she hid it well while watching him talk with Shen and Yurin, the movement of his lips, the way he flicked his unruly hair…

It made the feeling Raveres had when she thought he had died return. A feeling which made her involuntarily twitch in her lip.

'The sooner he's away, the better. Once among his own people, his liege lord will doubtless, take care of him.'

Looking up at the almond-eyed easterner Raveres hid her suspicion as she wondered, 'She's no friend to him, that I know.'

Snapping out of her thoughts the Druchii interrupted, asking "Yuri?" Jacque and the retainer looked at her as she continued, "See if Jacque would be willing to drill with you above deck. You might just learn something before he leaves us."

Yurin furrowed his brow and stuttered, "Surely you can't be serious?"

"Yuri, that's the second time today you've doubted me."

He reluctantly bowed his head in apology but scoffed, "With respect my lady, he's a boy yet!"

"A boy who's made more corpses than you have."

Strangely insulted Yurin bit his tongue before translating their exchange for Jacque. The young squire beamed a smile at Raveres' inadvertent praise.

With a dejected expression Yurin asked quietly, "Must I?"

Forcing herself to chuckle Raveres pointed towards the room's exit and nodded, "I'll need you to be more effective with those swords of yours once the squire's gone, now."

Jacque listened on, giggling mischievously before jumping from his seat and declaring boyishly, "I'll put you through your paces translator!"

Darting away from the mess hall, Raveres smirked while Yurin tried one more time to protest, "My lady I really don't-"

"Go."

Begrudgingly the retainer bowed and left, following after his younger 'instructor'.

After a few moments Raveres gazed across the table at Shen.

The easterner was looking down calmly, her jaw moving meekly as she chewed. With a sip of her water she finished her breakfast and pushed the empty bowl away. The air tensed between them until Shen blinked and finally met the Druchii's eye.

"Once ashore. I wonder where you intend to go and what you might get up to."

Blinking and maintaining a neutral expression Shen stared back as plainly as she could while Raveres smirked and leant forwards.

"Yet at the same time… I really could care less."

Picking up a long side of fish from her bowl Raveres took a bite from it.

Pushing food to the side of her mouth with her tongue she waved at Shen dismissively with her free left hand, allowing and encouraging the human to leave, "Go, do whatever it is you do whilst skulking about alone."

Despite not speaking Druhir Shen read and followed both Raveres' tone and body language, understanding the she-elf well enough.

Standing up from the bench the demure easterner closed her eyes and gave a deep, respectful bow. Swallowing, Raveres coolly nodded in affirmation as Shen stepped away from the table and out of the room. Now alone the Druchii drew a long breath.

With only her thoughts and worries to keep her company she began looking over the wet oats and the parting flakes of the seared mackerel. Tracing the lines and separations of the fish meat an innocuous thought spoke up amidst her worries and concerns, giving her a small respite,

'At least the fish isn't so bad today.'

Reaching for a thin, white, bone from where the spine used to be Raveres studied the barb-like cartilage. Under her breath she whispered in agreement with herself,

"Not bad at all."

…