The next few days passed with relative speed, at dawn people rose, broke camp, those unfit to walk got into carts and wagons, the warriors who were the most experienced with camp matters, doused cook fires and ensured that everyone was prepared around them. Wisps of gray smoke trailed into the air, the rich smell of stew still lingered over the area, but not a belly rumbled. Tharang scratched at the large tooth that protruded from his jaw. 'This makes no sense.' He pondered as he shoved gear into the wagon. Around his neck was an iron collar, which grated… but up in the wagon one of the younger infants was nursing from its mother, and so he swallowed his sense of umbrage. 'A few more days, and that might have been it, her flow was drying, and if that ended, how long would her child have lasted?' That they survived, that was enough for now.
But it still made no sense to him. 'Why is she so certain we won't turn on her? Is she that strong? Then why hasn't she challenged any of us yet? Her tame Komestrans seem to revere her, does she not see it as necessary? Is she waiting for us to rebel or… does she just not know our ways?' Tharang struggled to find answers, and found none. When the last of his tribe's young were loaded into that wagon, he raised the back and secured the iron latch into place. As if it were a signal he made a quiet resolution, 'I need to understand this one before I turn on her.' He thought, before going to take his place in the line of march.
God-Emperor Ax'Ayact gripped his head, his massive white fur-covered hands tightened on his skull as if to squeeze out the pain. In his room, there were no others present but his pride of females. The harem was still asleep, thankfully. Therefore, none saw the excruciating pain as his temples pounded like a wardrum and threatened to split his head clean open.
His thick mane was not yet brushed, and per his order, no servant attended him. 'I can't let anyone else see me like this. The God-Emperor knows no pain, knows no fear… we are immortal until we are called back to the abyss.' Thankfully his habit of rising before the others was paying off in the present. Though truthfully it was pain that awoke him lately, not duty.
Behind him on the massive bed, three of his harem murmured sweet nothings into the place where his head would have laid, the ligerwomen were voracious, and thankfully got along well with one another. He spared a moment of sympathy for his cousin in the Tlachopan Empire, whose harem of mates hated and loathed one another.
A quick look at the mirror and he drew himself up, the pain was well hidden, and one would never know at a glance that he had been sick in the first place. His fur, though not yet brushed, was still regal looking, and his body was as powerfully built as ever. The purple sheets of the bed would need to be replaced again, he snorted with a twinge of cockiness. 'Nothing unusual there, if they don't tear the sheets when clawing in ecstasy, I must question my virility.' He mused and glanced around the massive chamber. A series of great stone busts lined the wall, the faces of God-Emperor's past. 'I wonder how many actually looked like their busts, and how many had their mane's 'enhanced' by the sculptor?' Ax'Ayact laughed when the pain began to fade away again, and he pridefully stroked the great bush of hair that sprang from around his neck. 'I, at least, will require no enhancement.' He thought smugly before exiting the room and going alone down the long, empty hall of his palace.
Along the wall hung what he felt sure was some of the most beautiful art in all the world. He stopped at one of his personal favorites. At first glance, one might be forgiven for thinking it was a painting, but in fact, it was not. The fabric canvas might have been intended for that, but Tlalmok artisans had another use. They 'painted with feathers' which was to say, an artist would gather tens of thousands of feathers from different birds and birdmen, in all their glorious color and plumage. They would then insert the quill end through the fabric canvas at an upward angle to flatten the feather facing down. The back would then be dabbed with a tiny bit of sap, enough to keep the feather trapped in place where it was inserted. One, after another, after another they would do this, and use the colors of the feathers to create patterns. Blue waters or sky, green trees, flowers, gray mountains or white clouds, there was no limit to the color expression that could be carried out.
Once completed, one could caress the 'painting' that was closer to a tapestry and had no artistic equivalent anywhere in the world outside of the Triumvirate. The one that the God-Emperor had stopped to marvel at was a more recent work. One the artist titled 'Sacrifice'. The demon-elf woman, himself, his sons, and her last witness that had held her hand as she died. The artist had given her a stoic expression atop the pyramid, in contrast to the intended fearful look originally pitched. 'Remember it as it was, my sons, not as you wish it were.' He reflected and traced the feathers lightly with one long, soft and fur covered finger, the tip of the claw at the end briefly disturbing the stillness of the purple feather. 'She tasted absolutely foul, so she wasn't afraid, not even when I tore into her very guts. Forget that the prey can be brave, and that you can die, and who knows what may happen?' He contemplated and turned his mind to the blank faced companion, the cold one that watched her die after delivering the dire warning to him. "It felt so… real." He growled under his breath. "Like it was right around the corner."
The whole thing still seemed absurd on its face, and yet he found himself cursing himself for wondering if the insanity was not so insane after all. It was only with the greatest effort that he focused on the real problem that had him going down the hall that morning. That problem was not just real, but also, very 'present'. He abandoned the feathered art and returned to the path toward his son's rooms.
The guard bowed to the god-emperor. She was a tigerwoman, stripes abound on her fur, fierce looking, but not large compared to others of her kind, Ax'Ayact felt suspicions grow. She bowed deeply but didn't speak.
"You aren't one of my son's regular guards. Who are you?" He demanded. A low growl of suspicion forming in the back of his throat.
She couldn't pale as the humans could, but when she straightened and craned her neck up to look at his golden, piercing eyes, he could sense her fear, and see the hints of it in the tiny gesture of how she touched her claws into her fur. "Ah, sire, no. I ah, Prince Xo wanted me… after and…"
"You're one of his most recent bed mates." Ax'Ayact guessed, and she nodded with vigor. "Then why are you standing out here as if you were a guard?" It was a quietly spoken question, but one that he very dearly wanted an answer to.
"Ah, Prince Xo… he sent the guard away, after… after we finished, he said for me to watch over him, sire." The female murmured and hung her head, "Did I… have I done something wrong?"
Tigerwomen were normally fierce, but under the eyes of the God-Emperor, whose wrath was steadily rising, it was difficult to be brave.
"Is my son within?" Ax'Ayact demanded, his lips curling back in a snarl.
"Y-Yes, Prince Xo is asleep." She murmured, and kept her bright yellow eyes downcast.
"Asleep." The Ax'Ayact growled out, "He aspires to the throne… but wants to sleep in…" The weary father clenched an angry fist, "Get out of the way."
The tigerwoman stepped away from the door, it was large and carved of stone, heavy for most, it might as well have been light as wood for a ligerman. He flung the door open and looked around the room. The bed had clearly been occupied, his nose detected the scent of sex, the same smell that had been on the tigerwoman.
But though Xo's scent was in the room… the bed was empty. A large, richly appointed piece stuffed with many thick furs and skins, it was the definition of comfort. The window that would have let light shine through was shut tight, and the room was, in general, a mess. Books lay scattered, various torn cloaks where the pockets had been torn open, even the rich cushions had been ripped and the contents spilled about the room.
The growl deepened, the God-Emperor sniffed the air. His eyes fell on a dressing chamber. 'Why is he there of all places?' Ax'Ayact wondered and went to the stone door, he gave the orichalcum handle a tug, and felt resistance. 'Locked… from the inside? When did…? He can't be serious…' The God-Emperor had reached the limits of his patience.
He roared as one could only when in touch with the deepest part of their beastial nature, "Wake up!" He bellowed and heard scrambling within. He heard Xo scrambling and fumbling with the lock, and the door swung open.
"Father!" Xo said, wild eyed and frankly looking a mess, his fine mane unkempt even more so than a vigorous mating session should have rendered it, and his eyes cracked and red from lack of sleep.
"Yes, of course!" Ax'Ayact snarled and waved his arm out to the door, "Now that we've established who I am, and I know who you are, then explain to me why your whore for the night is guarding your door! Explain why you have yet to attend one of your Great Harvest meetings! Explain how you plan to take a city-state without planning! Explain why you're sleeping in… there!" He pointed past his youngest son to the dressing chamber, and looked down into the young ligerman's face searching for 'some' sign of understanding.
"Father…" Xo said, looking up at him, he began to wring his white fur, "Obviously I haven't attended a meeting because those are beneath me, and the female, well, I set her to guard me because she was new. My brother couldn't have gotten to her yet…" Xo looked suspiciously at the door. "Yet. He's jealous of me, I know he is, Ahui is trying to kill me, I know it… he wants the throne and I'm a threat… I feel his eyes on me, coveting the prize my death ensures him."
Ax'Ayact could barely believe his ears and he shouted with raw fury, snatching the seventeen year old ligerman by his shoulders and bellowing, "Xo, have you gone mad?!"
The hard staring eyes that looked up at his father, answered the elder ligerman well enough. He did not need to hear his son's answer, he knew… the boy's answer was a sound 'No'.
Diana helped Sado to rise from where he lay, on the wagon, her soft hands pressed into his hard flesh, and he groaned and sucked air in through his teeth when he was finally sitting upright. "Thank you, I put on a brave face for Teacher and for my Mistress, but… damn this hurts."
Diana gave him a weak smile and began to unwind his bandages, "I'll bet it does, I managed to avoid it my whole life, but when I was Kaiji's slave I won't say I never feared it. You're one of the strongest men in Mict'aratz, what do you think it felt like for the rest?"
"Not good. I'm sure of that." Sado acknowledged as he assisted with the unwrapping, grunting when the bandage pulled away from the sticky blood. The faint tearing sound as it pulled from the crusted bits was always unpleasant.
"Mhmm." She answered, unbinding other strips and peeling them off one by one, "Can I ask you something?" Diana pressed and dropped the used bandages beside her.
"You're free, I'm a slave, do whatever you like, My Lady." Sado replied with a sardonic expression that became a confident smirk.
"That is still strange to think about… but alright, slave. A long time ago I was attending Kaiji in the throne room. There was a law proposed to you about restricting the sale of young children onto the open market. Do you remember it?" Diana asked and reached for fresh bandages.
"I do, I refused it, you're wondering why… My Lady?" Sado prompted, and Diana nodded in return and popped the cork on the clay bottle holding the pure alcohol.
She applied it to a part of the bandage and began to wipe his back down, Sado hissed in pain. When the hiss passed, he answered. "Because they were going to die if I did that."
"I don't understand." Diana replied, a dark brow raising in doubt.
"When a parent couldn't 'feed' their children, or themselves, then they would often sell one to avoid starvation for all. If I'd passed that law, then everyone would starve or just enforcing the law would result in making more prisoners that have to be fed and lowering our production. Then we've got to take care of the children they couldn't feed in the first place. It's unfortunate but… would they be better off dying?" Sado asked when the first bandage was bound to him just above the hip.
Diana didn't answer him right away, she worked in silence, wrapping one strip after another before she replied, "That isn't what I was expecting you to say."
"Everybody knows that slavery is unpleasant… nobody wants to be one." He glanced reflexively in the direction of the front of the caravan where he was sure Kaiji and Priceless rode near their mistress. "Almost nobody at least. But it's that or starve and I couldn't prevent starvation, I couldn't keep a large number of prisoners alive, and I couldn't alleviate their hunger without a larger workforce, and trying to 'get' that work force… well, here I am. Gah, that hurts!" He hissed and let his hands fall at his sides when she tugged the knot and the alcohol stung him afresh.
Diana sat back down while Sado resumed lying on his stomach, "So, if you're right, how is our new Prince going to feed everybody…?" She glanced down at Sado, and he rested his cheek on his forearms when he crossed them on the wood.
"You ask that, my lady, as if I would know. My only guess is that a whole lot of other people are going to starve. But we won't, and that's good enough. Everyone who starves outside of our city is one less we have to fight later." Sado answered, and it did not occur to Diana to argue the point.