Into the Devil's Eye

by Akularz-Shati

DON'T KNOW THE LORE? NO PROBLEM! (see note in chapter 1 for details) Drukhari invade our reality and capture a young woman. She uses her vast knowledge about the Dark Eldar and her sharp mind to stay alive. Will she be interesting enough to be more than just a torture slave? It seems as if fate is smiling upon her... or is someone smiling in particular...? Image by Dmitry Brushray.

7. Chapter 7 - Friendly Strife

Notes:

Again, thanks to all my reviewers for their kind and constructive words. I want to mention BIBOTOT especially here, because they pointed out that it was common in the English language to make a paragraph after each spoken sentence, to make clear who is speaking. I am still wondering how I could have missed that with all the English books I have read. *shakes head*

I overworked Chapters 1-6 concerning this thing, and also overworked my sentences to make them more pleasant and fluent to read. The paragraphs now should be nice and short to read.

HUGE thanks go to my wonderful husband for this chapter, because he wrote the fighting scenes in this one, for I completely suck at writing fights. You will see more of his input in the future.

Yes, we still don't know the name of the main character and yes, I am doing this on purpose.

Oh, and one last thing, for all of you that might fear that: this WON'T, I repeat, WON'T become a love story! Really, ladies and gents, how ridiculous would that be with Dark Eldar? I think we all can agree upon the fact that the concept of "love" is perceived completely different by their and our kind.

Of course, the main character will develop, the behaviour towards her of other characters will change, likely to the better for her, but there will be no touchy-feely smoochies involved.

I hope you enjoy it, as always, though this is a really long one!

---

Chapter 7

Friendly Strife

"The blade that I wield is an extension of myself, as I am an extension of my blade.
We both thirst for blood. We both seek only murder.
Only in death do we find purpose in life."
— Klaivex Khyrassos from the Brotherhood of the Void

THIS TIME MY awakening was extremely unpleasant, because it was a slap in the face that ripped me out of my slumber. I bolted upwards; the pain did a great job in waking me up. With blurred vision, I caught sight of my master, who sat in front of me on the bed and flashed his terrible stare at me.

Not entirely awake, I started, "What did I d…?" I never finished the sentence though, because he hit me again.

Vect snarled, "Do I need a reason to beat my slave?" Because I did not answer him immediately, he slapped me once more.

Before he could find another reason to continue, I ducked and said hastily and subdued, "No, of course not, my lord! Please, what can I do for you, my lord?" I made an effort out of it not to forget his rightful title in every sentence.

My master spat at me, "Waking up would be a good start!"

Ruefully, I replied, "Yes, yes, immediately, my lord!"

However, he was not done threatening me, because he continued, his inflexion now deadly calm, "And you might want to hurry up in taking a shower and suiting up, otherwise you will have to skip breakfast or even go with me naked." I nodded, jumped out of bed and hurried into the bath.

Inside, I halted in front of the mirror, puffing and needing a few seconds to regain my composure. My left cheek was burning from where he had hit me, because he had done so quite hard, well, for my standards, I knew that he could have done much worse. By the same token, I was sure that I had to accustom myself to such arbitrary maulings. If his mood was bad, I had to expect this kind of treatment and if I did not tread carefully when he was upset, I had to anticipate more than just a beating.

I did as he had bidden me and hurried with showering, making myself look presentable and putting on clothing. My clothes today were held in the colours silver and emerald green, the fashion of them was the same as the last time I had gone with him. I only needed ten minutes or so to be ready, then I left the bath again, with a queasy feeling in my stomach.

My master already sat at the table and was eating. Completely unsure of myself, I came to him and asked him timidly, "Have I done something to anger you, my lord?"

Vect looked at me with his dark eyes, which cast an even darker look at me and he replied, "Besides being incredibly hard to wake? No, I guess not." As he reached for my face, I flinched heavily. The Overlord burst out into a roar of laughter, touching my face anyways, but this time, it was only a gentle caress. My master said to me, his eyes flashing with amusement, and pure scorn in his voice, "Oh, it was not that bad, child, calm down. I just wanted to see how you handle a gentle push, that is all. Now, sit and eat!"

I nodded and obeyed, though I was highly confused. Had he just played another of his cruel games with me or was he still playing me, showing me now amusement to make me careless? I decided to go with caution anyways.

We had breakfast in silence. I had the terrible feeling that he was highly entertained by my fear and because of that, I dreaded what he had in store for me today. Perhaps I saw a bit of what my life would have been like if I had not been trained so well. Again, I was sure that he still only touched me with velvet gloves, but I was not fond of finding out how dire my situation could become.

All of a sudden he stated, "Again, you will be the only slave around to serve us all. Do as well as the last time and you will not have to fear any more pain or lust than before."

I nodded and hurried to reply, "I will do my very best, as usual, my lord."

My master left me without acknowledging my answer in any way. I continued eating, sure that I again would not see lunch and my queasy stomach made it hard for me to eat as much as it was wise to.

Vect came back after a short while, carrying my collar in his right hand. Today it was a different one, made out of silver metal and it was decorated with emeralds, again it fitted my clothes. The Overlord bowed down to my eye-level and breathed a kiss upon my temple while he donned the collar around my neck. I flinched as I had to feel that it was tighter than the other one. Or did I just imagine it, because I was so tense?

As if he had read my thoughts, the Overlord hissed into my ear, "Yes, my child, it is tighter than the other one, just to remind you stronger about what you are. Nonetheless, I am sure that you would not want to complain, now would you, my sweet child?"

I wagged my head hastily and replied, "No, of course not, my lord!"

Vect chuckled evilly, kissed my temple again and whispered tenderly into my ear, "Good girl." He stroked my hair gently and continued, "And because you are being such a nice, good little slave, I want you to have these." He opened the hand which was not currently stroking my hair and I was extremely taken aback as I saw a pair of masterfully worked earrings in his palm. I guessed that they were made out of white gold and two entirely pure, drop-shaped emeralds were inwrought into the metal.

I inhaled sharply in pure astonishment and burst out, "Thank you, my lord! They are beautiful!"

He laughed at me drooling over his present and stated, "Good to see that mon-keigh women of all times are kind of the same."

In other circumstances, this statement would have made me angry, but I was too happy right now to care. I took the earrings from his palm, tilted my head backwards, looked directly into his eyes because of that and admitted, "Now I am completely confused, my lord. You seemed so displeased with me today and now you are giving me a present?" I truly did not get it. What was his game?

My master smirked, making his teeth flash and he replied, "I want you to stay confused. You do not have to understand, just serve. And we want you to be pretty, do we not, child?" His question was rhetorical though, because he drew away from me after saying it and went to the armour rack, to don his armour.

I asked him, "Was this the nice thing you thought about for me trying to protect you?"

Vect looked at me out of the corner of his eyes and replied, "No, for that I will await your wish."

Now he had me even more puzzled. Since I knew that he would not give me an explanation for his strange behaviour, I decided to be happy about the gift and went into the bath to put the earrings on and to have a look at myself. I had to find that they were perfect for me, fitting my outfit and the form of my face perfectly. This ancient Dark Eldar truly knew his stuff when it came down to aesthetics.

Afterwards, I hurried back to my master, who examined me shortly – I noticed that he sneaked a smile onto his features while he did – and then he donned the chain on my collar. I did not ask him why he was smiling, because I was not fond of angering him again, since his mood seemed to be splendid right now. Then, he led me out of the quarters, into the terrible ambient noises of Commorragh.

This time, we had a longer way through the Black Fortress, which was the seat and court of the Supreme Overlord and his Kabal. I had to find out that there indeed was a high-speed elevator down these enormously long circling stairs. I acknowledged with an angry snort that Chu'uk apparently only had chased me up by foot to torment me. I hated that bastard and I was glad that he had gotten what he deserved.

We went on through numerous corridors, which had me quickly confused, because of their strange junctions, directions and forms, following this somewhat erratic architecture that was to be seen all around here. Puzzled, I asked myself how one could not get lost around here. I also knew that it would be unwise for me to wander around here without permission, for I was sure that my life would end quicker than I could scream. I felt the gazes of numerous, invisible eyes upon us.

Mandrakes.

It was best not to tangle with these creatures. They killed everything that was not quick enough to escape them or strong enough to defeat them. However, they knew better than to attack the Supreme Overlord and his lifeguard. What surprised me actually was to find them here, in the Black Fortress, but maybe they also were in league with Vect, to eliminate any unwanted guests. Who would ever know?

Finally, we came to our destination, which was at the end of an even more looped corridor and a set of doors. Without slowing his pace, Vect went through the first one and I followed him without a choice. The lifeguard waited outside.

I was taken aback as we entered a quite small room. Everything I had seen so far of the fortress had been quite vast. Apparently, this room was a changing room, because the Overlord loosened the chain from his belt and (surprisingly for me) my collar, put down his spear and my chain and took off his helmet. Again he had me bewildered, as he put it into my hands, indicating with his stare that I was to keep a close eye on it. As he let go of it, I was amazed again, because the helmet was extremely light. Had it not been as big, I would have been able to hold it in one hand without any strain. So much for the heavy helmet.

Shortly, I stared into thin air, until the evil laugh of my master pushed me back into reality. He said to me, smirking, "You sure look like someone told you the most unpleasant secret ever."

I only half-registered his words and murmured to myself, somewhat out of sorts, "Of course… Ghostplate Armour, how could I've been so stupid?"

I winced so hard that I almost had dropped the helmet, as Vect spat at me, "By the forces of chaos! Is there anything you do not know about my people?"

In the first few seconds, I could only stare at him in fright, then I managed, stuttering, "I… I… think, there is a whole lot I do not…"

"Nevertheless, you know way too much." His eyes flashed.

Hastily, I added, "Of course, I won't tell anyone!" It was this moment I realised that he was pulling my leg again, because his gaze had a distinctive sheen to it. I snorted, drew a face and said somewhat snarling, "And you really enjoy scaring me to death, don't you?" His predatory smile was answer enough. What amazed me was that he did not punish my very cheeky remark.

While my master doffed his armour and bodyglove, I asked him, "Are you injured, my lord? Is there anything I can do for you? I have been trained in acupressure and medical massaging." I noticed on the way here that he was slightly limping. I was quite sure that somebody who had not had that much time to study his movements would have never seen it, but in the meantime, I was quite adept at knowing how he moved.

Vect halted for a second, flashed a mischievous smirk at me and replied, "No, my child. It is just my age getting the better of me sometimes."

Somehow concerned, I replied, "Isn't this a bit disadvantageous if you are training today? I mean, surely you could delay it if you want to?"

"No, it is not and I have my reasons not to delay it."

I did not get more of an answer and he just let me stand there to wonder what this was all about, while he put on a cloth that looked like a Hakama from earth, with a tight sash fastening it around his hips. His upper body was left uncovered; I only had to wrap his wrists and hands in tight bandages. My master hit my fingers numerous times while I did it, because I made some mistakes. In mitigation, I had to say that the technique was quite complex and I had a hard time figuring it out, despite his explanation. Besides, I was still wondering which game he was playing now, concerning his injury.

As I was done, we went through the second door into another room. Here I beheld the training hall of the Circle for the first time.

The vastness of the Black Fortress greeted me here again. The room was circular and huge, containing a spacious, also circular arena in its centre. Around the left half of the arena was an elevated structure, on which comfortably looking loungers stood, each of them with a small table, and the inclined fashion of the structure made it easier to observe what was happening in the arena. We climbed the structure, but I was no longer able to follow my master, who seated himself, because I was taken aside by some slaves, who had their place at the topmost right corner of the structure, to stay out of sight of the Circle members. They told me what I had to do – again my task was the same as the last time. The others were here to assist me in my task by providing the food and drink I had to bring to the Circle members; the rest of the slaves would stay at their place, where something like a small bar with taps and kitchen sinks was set up. Since I was very confused why almost all the Archons were just clad in such light fashion if this was a combat exercise, I asked the other slaves what this was all about. They explained to me that the arena also was a hologram-field, in which weapons and obstacles could be loaded and that it was covered with a dampening field, which blocked all sound only from the outside to the inside, to not disturb the combatants. The weapons would be able to interact with everything that was in the holo-field, but not actually injure the combatants, rather make them feel the pain and impairment the actual wound would inflict upon them. A duel was only concluded if a deadly attack was made, everything else was insignificant, but this was the Dark Eldar way. They drew their weapons to kill, not necessarily in a quick fashion, but if it came down to their own they rather looked to it that their opponent was put out of commission quickly and permanently. To not kill quickly in a league like this was an arrogant and stupid mistake. I also understood the hidden agenda here. To host duels like this made it impossible for one of the Circle members to modify or poison their weapon, for there was no trust at all in this race.

I also learnt that the slaves, who helped me today, were exclusively the personal slaves of the Circle members. I saw why it was so. Those slaves were closest to their masters and knew all too well what would happen to them if they disobeyed or even rebelled against them. Since the Archons were not protected by armour today, they wanted to be sure not to get a knife stabbed in their backs, though a hundred slaves were no match for every single one of them. The motto 'Better be safe than sorry.' was the one and only thing that kept someone alive in Commorragh. I was surprised to only find humans in the ranks of the slaves, all of them female, and only one but me had fair skin, all others were dark-skinned. It seemed as if humans were doing best as personal slaves.

I began with my task immediately and had to find with great shame that I was somewhat excited as I saw them in those light clothes. They all were perfectly trained; I loved those lithe and wiry builds.

I smirked. I could not help it; somehow I started liking my job.

Of course, smirking had been a mistake, because Archon Sarnak, who was not engrossed in a discussion and also did not follow the battle between Tahril and Atanel too closely, had sensed it and asked me, "What is so amusing, little one?"

I felt with great dismay that I blushed and replied, "To be honest, my lord, I am quite interested in diverse battle techniques and quite happy to be allowed to watch."

He smiled as cold as ice, and he continued, "I don't believe you fully, child, but it is not my place to make you tell the truth. Shall I explain the rules to you?"

I bowed slightly to him and said with lowered head, "I'd love to know, and I will be with you in a second, my lord. But first, I have to carry out my duties."

His smile deepened, he nodded shortly and dismissed me. Sarnak was one of the creepier specimens in this assembly. He looked young – like most of the Dark Eldar and most of this Circle. As I had read up about him, the left side of his head was bald; the other side was graced with silvery-black and fringy hair in a layered cut. As it was a custom among the Dark Eldar, he wore the rest of his hair, which was long, in a tight plait high on his head.

I did as I had said, hurried to look after my tasks and then came back to Archon Sarnak. He commanded me to sit down beside him, so I knelt beside his lounger. He took a relished sip out of his cup and I winced slightly, as he laid his left hand upon my shoulder. Of course, Sarnak noticed it and said mockingly, "What are you afraid of, fledgling? Pain? Or do you even already long for death?"

I looked without fear into his cruel eyes, and replied, "That would be far too boring, now wouldn't it?" I could see in his eyes that I had caught him by surprise, for this was one of his most famous quotations, "Death? You want death? I'm afraid that would be far too boring."

Sarnak made a reflective sound and stated, "I begin to see why our Overlord likes you." He shot a curious look at me for a second, then looked to the arena and added with a predatory smile, "Ah, it seems as if this will end soon."

I followed his gaze and had a hard time understanding his statement, because the duellists were moving so quickly that it was difficult for me to follow their actions. What I could see clearly though, was that this fight looked mostly like a dance, because it was so flowing and elegant. It was exactly as I had imagined it. I knew I would try hard to become quicker, to be able to see those awesome movements. I also could see that Tahril's weapons were two energy claws and Atanel's a Hellglaive, like it was to be expected from an Ex-Heliarch.

Sarnak explained the rules of the small tournament to me, "Well, it is quite easy, easy enough even for a mon-keigh to comprehend. We battle in duels against each other, the pairs are organised based on our rank in the Overlord's Circle. Each winner then fights the winner of the next higher ranking battle, until the two best of us are determined. Those two may fight our Overlord, a most honourable friendly strife."

I was astonished, "Two at once?"

The Archon laughed at my amazement and said, "Yes, my child, one alone is not enough to indeed be a challenge for him. After that, if he wishes so, the others may fight him, in the same constellation, although he may pick the pairs in those fights."

I nodded. "Thank you for explaining, my lord. I have one more question, if I may?"

Sarnak nodded approvingly.

"Why is it that you can move so damn fast? I mean, if you don't fight, you usually don't move that fast and it is no problem for one of my kind to follow your movements. Right now, it is a true challenge," I asked, indeed curious about it.

"An interesting question, I will answer it. You have to see, we have special senses and speed reserves we can use if we deign to and they flash us into a certain battle-status, if you will. If we are in danger, in battle, enraged or simply blood is spilt around us, our bodies produce a certain neurotransmitter, which helps us prolong this heightened state and this status quickens us even more and makes us more precise the longer it lasts. If this chemical is not produced, we can maintain this state only for a very short while. In this condition, time slows for us, that is why we are so fast, bullets slow down, making it easy to dodge them, movements seem to be in slow-motion. This is also the reason why your kind can never reach the same kind of agility."

I truly was amazed. "This is highly interesting. On a molecular level, this has to be as astonishing to watch as seeing your kind in battle. Thank you, my lord, this was a highly productive conversation for me."

Sarnak laughed. "You are the first slave to ask such questions. Why the interest, I wonder?"

I explained to him what my profession had been before I had come here.

He made a pensive sound. "A Haemonculus could find your mindset highly interesting," he mused.

I just smiled shyly, suddenly realising that this conversation went into a direction I did not like, because I was sure that it was impossible to lie to a Dark Eldar and to an Archon even less so.

But I got lucky this time, because the fight between Tahril and Atanel was finished. Atanel had won; it seemed his superior agility had given him an easy win. It was my chance to get away and I took it, "My lord, it seems that my services are needed elsewhere. I have to leave you, though again I have to emphasise that I enjoyed our conversation very much."

He smiled. "I have to return that compliment, talking to you is different than to any other mon-keigh slave I have met so far. I think I get a good guess about why the Overlord keeps you rather unscathed, it is said that he is fond of sharp minds. Very well, I won't keep you any longer, slave girl."

Though Sarnak indeed seemed to enjoy our conversation, he hurt me when I got up. He dug one of his sharp fingernails deep into my shoulder and tore a bleeding cut into my skin as I got up. I clenched my teeth, not halting my movement, though it hurt quite badly. None of us mentioned his little cruelty and I bid him farewell with a small bow.

As I looked up through somewhat watery eyes, Atanel's and my gaze shortly crossed. As I examined his face, I had to find that I had missed until now how handsome he was. His black eyes seemed to glow; his features were flawless; they were perfectly sculpted and as graceful as I had never seen in a face before. His extremely silky, shining black hair was cut into a Mohican, but his hair was long and he wore it in a plait high on his head. On his forehead, between his eyes, was a complex, serpentine tattoo, it fitted his dainty features perfectly, even underlined them. As it was with all Dark Eldar, his body was perfect, lithe and wiry. Atanel was as handsome as you could wish for.

Nevertheless, he noticed my gaze and I saw his eyes narrowing. I looked away hastily and only realised in this moment that I had stared at him quite blatantly. This was not good for me. Stupid mistake. I cursed myself on the inside.

Letting out a small grunt because of the burning sensation on my shoulder and with a queasy feeling, I went to Atanel, because he and Tahril had started fighting before I had been able to ask them about their needs. While I did, I crossed paths with Nuscul and Ea'nash, who went to the ring to test their martial prowess against each other. Nuscul did not do so much as look at me, Ea'nash smiled at me wolfishly. This time, a smile was all I got, because he had no time to touch me. I was sure that he would find the time soon; I simply had to deal with his advances.

Finally, I was with Atanel and I noticed with surprise that he was still panting and his skin was glistening with sweat from the battle. Somehow, this added to his beauty. I bowed to him and said, "Greetings, my lord. May I ask, what…"

He never let me finish my sentence, though.

Atanel's left hand was at my throat in a split-second and he dragged me close to him. I had to look deeply into his pitch-black eyes and he hissed, "Don't you ever dare to do that again, slave! The only reason I don't ask for having you whipped, is that you are the slave of the Overlord and he likes to determine whether his slaves are to be punished or not and, if so, he likes to do it himself. Don't think that he hasn't noticed this little incident. Look at me like that once again, and I'll make sure that you get punished. Last. Warning. Are we clear?"

Profoundly daunted, I replied, "Yes, my lord, we are. Thank you, my lord." It was perfectly clear to me that he was utterly merciful for not having me punished at the spot.

His eyes narrowed again shortly, then he added, "Hmm, at least you have some manners and really mean what you say." Then, he let go of me and told me what he wanted me to bring him.

Afterwards, I hurried to get to Tahril too. The black-haired and grey-skinned Dark Eldar with the black lips did not waste much of his attention on me and told me as a sideline what he was in need of. I was glad about it, because the less attention I got, the better it was for me.

When I came back to Atanel, he looked at me quite intently and then said, "Interesting. You are not afraid of me, regardless of what I said to you."

I shook my head and replied, "No, my lord, because you were right about what you said. It wasn't my place to do what I did. And I'm very well aware of how kind you are to me by not having me punished for that insolence."

Atanel made a pensive sound. "Hmm, it seems that you know a lot more about the role of a slave than one would reckon. Have you been a slave before you came here?"

I had to smile wryly and answered, "No, my lord, from where I come, slavery is forbidden. But I've been very well taught and I had quite some time to adjust before I came to Commorragh."

"Your pronunciation of Dark Eldar words is good, child."

I bowed slightly and said, "Thank you, my lord. I had some time to learn how to pronounce the name of this city correctly." I added with a frightened inflexion, "The Overlord had me practice and punished wrong pronunciation. His methods are… effective, to say the least." Though this was not entirely true, I rather only bent the truth here than actually lying about it, for I truly had been punished harshly when I had pronounced words wrongly during my training. Why did I do it? I was sure that it was wise to give the Circle the uttermost cruel and relentless impression of their Overlord, to never even let them doubt his absolute supremacy.

Bending the truth seemed to work, because Atanel apparently did not notice it, for he said with a knowing and cruel smile, "And I'm sure you deserved it." He dismissed me with a painful caress in my face, which left me with a small cut on my cheek. I hurried to get to Tahril, but he took as little notice as before of me.

Now I had a small break and I placed myself so that I could watch the whole Circle. I also had the time now to examine them a bit closer without them noticing it, because they all watched the current duel.

The face of Archon Sythrac, the Hierarch, did not reveal any expression. What was apparent was that he had to be quite old, since some small crinkles showed in his face. Nevertheless, he was a glorious sight, his features were elegant and clear-cut and his black eyes beheld the world around him with a profound and pensive gaze. His hair, which he wore like everybody else around here in a high plait, was also black and had some silvery strands and his stature was like the usual one of a Dark Eldar – svelte, but also wiry and he was quite tall.

The beginnings of advanced age were also apparent with Archon Zuol. His black hair was somewhat odd, for it was wavy and it possessed some white strands. His skin was milky and it was easily seen from his stature that his martial prowess was remarkable, because his body was not only athletic, but also far more muscular than the ones of the others. He had somewhat hawk-like features, clear-cut, his eyes even more slit than it was usual with Dark Eldar and his nose was a bit curved, which underlined the notion that he looked like a hawk, ready to swoop down on his prey.

The hair of Archon Vyras contrasted sharply with the one of Zuol, for it was utterly straight and silky, with not a single curve in it, falling down like a waterfall between his shoulders from the plait he wore it in and also straight down in front of his ears, were some strands were loosened to play around his face, which was extremely lofty and clear cut. Advanced age also showed itself a little in his features and they were graced with two dark-red tattoos, one between his eyes, the other around his right eye. His gaze had some kind of well-hidden keenness in it, revealing that he was a vigilant observer. Vyras was one of the sveltest Dark Eldar I had seen so far, rangy, with long, elegant fingers and extremely sinewy musculature.

Archon Nuscul, who was just fighting against Ea'nash in the arena with two daggers, also possessed a highly slim and agile build. His hair was truly fascinating; the left side of it was black as night, the right snow-white. To deepen this contrast, he had his hair parted in the middle, some strands plucked out of his tight plait left and right from his face. Also, his eyebrows showed this strange colour scheme. What I had noticed was that most of the time a small smile could be seen on his face, as if he alone had heard the best joke ever and was not willing to share it. This smile now was deeper, apparently, he enjoyed the battle.

Archon Ea'nash was truly one of the most dashing sights in this Circle, contrasting sharply with his behaviour. He wore his silky, black hair also in a high plait, but it was parted on the rather right side of his head and on the left side he had a layered haircut, making the hair there underline his noble features. His flawless skin was like alabaster; around his right eye was a red tattoo. His build was wiry and athletic in an elegant manner and he fought against Nuscul with two energy swords. Ea'nash's face was now a dour grimace, apparently, the fight did not go the way he wanted it.

It was also in these seconds that the duel ended, Nuscul had beaten Ea'nash.

What surprised me greatly about the duels was the ceremony and deference that were attached to them. Every duel was started with a bow to each other and the Overlord and also concluded in the same manner. As decadent and cruel this society and kind were, as strict their codex seemed to be when it came down to ceremonial obeisance.

The two duellers got out of the arena and sat down to rest. With this, I had to work again and I was very happy that I had to go to Nuscul first because of his position, because I was sure that Ea'nash would keep me for a while.

I came to him, did a small bow and asked, "Is there anything you wish for, my lord?"

He smiled at me, still panting and sweating, and replied, "Don't bother, dear. I have the sweet taste of victory on my tongue, there is nothing I need right now." Ea'nash had heard those words, because he shot a caustic look into Nuscul's direction. The latter smiled back at him with pure malicious glee. I had to laugh on the inside.

Nevertheless, his words took me somewhat aback. I had been given many names since I was here, but 'dear' had not been among them. Nuscul was indeed a strange Dark Eldar.

I bowed again, and started again courteously, "If there is anything I can do for you…"

He smiled, patted my cheek tenderly and replied, "I'll let you know, sweetie."

His extremely unusual behaviour let me freeze for a second; I completely had forgotten how it was to be treated kindly and not be hurt out of joy. Though his acts showed that he beheld me a bit like a pet, I was glad that it was this way, though I had no idea how I should handle him. I would find out.

With a queasy feeling, I went to Ea'nash.

Though his sour mood was apparent, he smiled at me from afar and I returned his smile shyly. I was not entirely sure how I should act when dealing with him, because, on one hand, he seemed to love the impression of the innocent, helpless slave girl I gave him, but, on the other, maybe he also liked it if I returned his advances. I had to try it.

Then I was with him. "Is there anything I can do to improve your mood, my lord?" I asked him carefully.

His smile widened, he pointed to his lap and said, "Indeed, you can. Come, sit with me for a while, sweet child!" Though I did not like the notion at all, I obeyed. He hugged me, pulling me against him, then caressed my cheek and breathed a kiss upon my neck. Though he was drenched in sweat, he neither smelt bad nor was it unpleasant to touch his skin. Dark Eldar indeed had a completely different physiology to humans; I was reminded of that dearly in these moments. "I have to admit, I've missed you. Tell me, child, how did you like the poison?" he asked me.

I smiled at him timidly and replied, "It was an… intense experience, to say the least." The inflexion on the word showed clearly what I truly meant.

Ea'nash flashed a wolfish smile. "Ah, I would've loved to be there when it kicked in. It must've been a lovely sight and must've made you so… vulnerable."

He really was terrible, but I played along, "I'm sure you would've made it worth the while, my lord."

The Archon chuckled softly into my ear. "Oh yes, I would have. And you would've loved it."

Oh dear, 'lecherous' did not even start to cover this. Without letting my revulsion show, I said in a sweet manner, "I'm sure of that, my lord."

Now he looked at me pensively for a while, then stated, "Huh. It seems you're much more confident than the last time we met. Interesting. But then again, I've seen slaves change quite quickly when they were with the Overlord. He has the gift to bring out the very best in fledglings like you, he is a true master. And it seems that you're quite fit to be his personal slave." While he spoke to me, he caressed my flanks and his warm breath stroked my hair. I was sure that he was perfectly aware that he tickled and aroused me a bit with this. Then, I froze in repulsion as he kissed my ear and whispered into it, "Tell me, child, has he already slept with you? Already made you scream?"

I swallowed heavily, now no longer able to stay absolutely calm and answered dismayed, "I'm not sure if I'm allowed to answer that question, my lord, I'm sorry."

Again, Ea'nash chuckled into my ear; I had to restrain myself not to flee from him. "So the answer is yes. Did you enjoy it, hmm?" He laughed as he saw my obvious dismay. "Oh, don't fret, my child, I won't make you answer that. I can feel the answer all too well." He ran his fingertips over the rims of my ears and I shivered. Ea'nash truly knew how to arouse a woman. Finally, he laughed again, kissed my temple and demanded, "Ah, enough! Get off of me, child, or this might get out of hand!" I obeyed all too willingly.

He looked at me appraisingly for a short while, then said, "There is something that baffles you, child, ain't I right? What do you want to know? Just ask, don't worry, I'll answer your question."

I hemmed and hawed a bit, then I shyly said, "Well… my lord… I've wondered why all of the personal slaves around here are human? Since your kind enslaves so many races, I find it puzzling that they're all human."

His teeth flashed as he smiled at me, then he replied, "It's quite simple, child. You mon-keigh are tough enough to provide some entertainment if we choose to entertain ourselves by pain, but you're also willing enough to provide sexual entertainment. From all the races, you're the nicest to look at, if prepared properly, and of course, you're easy enough to keep under the thumb to never even dare an ounce of resistance. It's quite pleasing. So, there you have your answer. I guess it's not quite what you wanted to hear."

I shook my head. "I should've known, actually. But thank you for answering my question, my lord."

Ea'nash bowed his head in pure mockery. "You are welcome, fledgling. Now go, I guess you have some other duties to attend to." This I had indeed, because the duel between Vyras and Sarnak was over, leaving Vyras as the victor. It seemed as if the two Razorflails had been superior to the two Agoniser-gauntlets.

I hurried to the duellists to ask them about their needs. Sarnak only dismissed me with a disgruntled huff; Vyras was as always nice to me – far too nice, as I thought.

The next while passed quite uneventfully, the duel between Zuol and Sythrac was ended, leaving Zuol as the winner, showing that Demiklaives were able to even beat the infamous Huskblade. I was surprised that Zuol had been allowed to keep his Incubus-weapons, though he was not one of them and I also was amazed at the fact that he wore blades on his underarms in the form of vambraces, which he used quite recklessly. This was the fighting style of the Incubi, not only fighting with their weapons, but with their whole bodies.

What I had noticed was that the higher the hierarchy of the combatants was, the faster and more masterful the fights were. Following the last duel had been a real strain on the eye for me, but I loved to watch those battles, because they were as aesthetic as I had hoped. All of them looked more like dancers than fighters; it was truly soothing for the eye. I also noticed, not without astonishment, that my mind and eyes were able to dissolve these incredibly fast movements the longer I watched. I was truly amazed that it was possible for a human body to adapt to such velocity so quickly. Also, this made the whole thing even more interesting.

Thereupon the second round for Atanel and Nuscul was at hand. Both of them fought in a grimly manner; apparently, they both were set on fighting against the Overlord. Their youth showed in their fighting style, they were so incredibly quick; it was nauseating to follow their flowing motions. I admired Nuscul's skill with his blades, since daggers were difficult weapons to use against a glaive, and Atanel's incredible reflexes, because he dodged Nuscul's lightning-fast dives under his defence with skill. The fight was fierce toing and froing; more than once it looked like it was over for one of them, but they outdid themselves every single time, using even more audacious manoeuvres to get out of tight situations. I knew that the duel had to be good even for trained eyes like those of the Archons, because every single one watched the combat with concentration, not a single sound was to be heard from the ranks of the Circle; no conversations were held. In the end, Nuscul stood victorious, barely so as it seemed. It was clearly visible that Atanel was furious because of his defeat, and Nuscul seemed to shine in an aura of pure spitefulness and joy.

Then, Vyras and Zuol duelled. I did not watch the fight in the beginning, but rather visited my master for a change. However, he was more interested in the duel than me; seemingly it was important for him to watch the combatants, to be able to estimate them precisely for his combat later on.

Because I had nothing better to do, I watched the battle as best as I could. It was a true relish to watch them, for it was clearly visible that Zuol's technique was unique in this Circle, because he did not struggle with Vyras's attempts of disarming him. Fighting against Razorflails with swords had to be quite an unpleasant experience. Then again, it was clearly visible who was dominating this duel; Vyras seemed to be no match for Zuol.

And then it happened.

Vyras was dodging an extremely complicated looking combination of Zuol, apparently slid too much to the side, got entangled with one of his whips in one of the obstacles and fell with a loud grunt of pain. It was a strange thing: they did not even gasp when they strafed each other with those terrible weapons, death cries were all that came out of their throats, yet Vyras now stayed on the floor, breathing heavily in visible agony, his face distorted. Zuol stopped his movements and came to a halt.

I decided to show once again why I was the personal slave of the Overlord. I hurried to the arena, shortly crossing gazes with the Overlord and awaiting his approving nod. Then, I went directly to Vyras and asked, "What's wrong, my lord?"

He snarled through clenched teeth, "Stupidity. And I seem to have hyper-extended my right thigh and arm."

I nodded and replied briefly, "Hold still. I will dull the pain for you." Skilfully I palpated his injured parts and quickly noticed that he indeed had overstretched his right arm and thigh. With the enormous tension Eldar-muscles were under, this was an injury that was much more agonising to them then it was to humans, which explained Vyras's extreme reaction. I first treated his thigh, because I was sure that this bigger muscle hurt more badly than the other one. I massaged it to take the tension, which followed the injury, away, and then used some acupressure points to dull the throbbing of his injured muscles. I felt the surprised gazes of the Circle between my shoulder blades… but also Vect's small and smug smile.

It did not take a long time until Vyras sighed in relief.

I instructed him, "There. You now should be able to stand up. I'll take care of your arm when you have lied down and I'll massage you so that the muscles can relax." Vyras could now indeed get up and he only was slightly limping as he went back to his lounger.

I also got up and swallowed as I met Zuol's quite piercing and distrustful gaze. "You know an awful lot, slave. You indeed are well-educated," the Archon said with a sceptical inflexion. He did not look happy about my skills, possibly suspecting a conspiracy here and he was looming over me with his weapons still in his hands. I did not feel safe, since the Archon was taller than me for about two heads, and, as he had shown impressively, a magnificent warrior. I was relieved as he turned away from me and shouted across the room, towards the Overlord, "You really have a talented slave, my lord. She's better in dulling pain than some of our physicians." His distrust was apparent.

But Vect would not have it, because he boomed at Zuol, "Do you think that I endure anyone less talented than her as my personal one? Wipe that distrust off your face, Zuol!"

It was absolutely clear to me that the Overlord just saved my hide. But why? I possibly would never know the answer.

In a softer manner, Vect added, "I will have her massaging you after we are done here, if that calms your spirit."

Zuol – now realising that he had been too bold – relaxed, nodded and replied, "That would be… most generous, my lord."

"Good. Now, take a break, you know what it means to face me in battle!" Vect replied, his tone not allowing any kind of objections. Zuol also followed this 'suggestion' and left the arena. I followed him and went to Vyras, to tend to his injuries.

The Archon still breathed heavily, he seemed to be in a lot of pain, even though I was sure that the Dark Eldar were used to agony. I had one of the other slaves bring me a warming massage oil and now spread it on his injured arm. Vyras watched me closely as I massaged him. His muscles had tightened intensely in this short while and I was not surprised that he was not able to fight down this ache. I knew what I did, since my teacher had been a true master in these things. If someone knew everything about a body, no matter the race, it was a Haemonculus. It took me some time to treat Vyras's arm, since the tension also had spread to his shoulder and neck. At some point, Vyras stopped eyeing every single one of my movements critically, closed his eyes and relaxed, which made my task easier.

At some point, he made an appreciative sound and said, "You should teach my personal slave how to do that. You know what you're doing; I have to give you that."

I smiled and replied, "Thank you, my lord. I have been taught well."

He opened his eyes, looked at me and stated, "Yes, you definitely were, and I am beginning to suspect that it was not only Chu'uk who taught you, but also someone else."

I looked at him timidly and replied carefully, "Well, you may be right with that, my lord. Let me put it that way: I've always been good with massages, read a lot and it wasn't too hard for me to transfer my knowledge to a non-human body." I also bent the truth here a bit and prayed that it would work.

I was lucky, because he just tilted his head a bit and said, "There is more to you than meets the eye. I can see why the Overlord has chosen you."

I finished the massage at his fingertips and asked courteously, "Do you feel better, my lord?"

He smiled. "Yes, child. Go now; I'm sure your master is in need of your services."

I nodded, got up and did what he had suggested.

However, the Overlord was not in need of my services, he just waited to let the last combatants rest up a bit before he fought them. Still, something was amusing him extremely, because I could see his famed half-smile on his face. I was sure that only those who knew him well could see this hint-of-a-smile. I was wise enough not to ask him about his amusement and just hoped that he would tell me if he deigned to. As he always did when he was enjoying himself and I was close by, he drew me against him and kissed me.

This time, the kiss was no fun for me, because he instantly bit me, and kept his teeth sunk in my wounds for quite some time, even moving them a bit and hurting me badly with it. I could not suppress a small cry of pain and I immediately felt some relished gazes upon me.

At some point, he let go of me with his teeth again, but he continued kissing me until the blood ran down the corners of my mouth and down my throat, because I had no chance of swallowing it. The kiss burned like fire and he humiliated me with delight, I felt tears burning in my eyes. He enjoyed my agony for quite some while; then he drew his mouth away from mine, but still held me by my collar. I looked into his cruel eyes that shone with relentless delight and he flashed a bloody smile at me. Then he dragged me closer to him again and hissed into my ear, so everybody else could hear it, "That was only a small pinch of pain, child, so quit your wailing." Utterly softly, so only I could hear it, he breathed into my ear, "Well done." What this meant was left to my interpretation, but I was supposed to be happy that he had liked something I did.

He dismissed me with a harsh wave of his hand and I consorted with my fellows in misery, to clean myself from my blood. One of them asked me in Low Gothic and in a hushed tone, "Are you alright?"

I nodded and replied in the same manner, "He just loves to bite."

She grinned and replied, "You are incredibly calm and sane considering who's your master."

I shrugged and stated, "I was lucky to be trained fairly well before being his slave. I guess that is what saves me from his worst punishments." By the way, she was the other fair-skinned slave I had noticed earlier. What leapt out at me, was, now that I took a closer look at her, how young she was. She could not have been older than sixteen. "And who is your master?" I asked her.

She pursed her lips, then replied, "My master is the most honourable Archon Ea'nash."

We just looked at each other shortly and I understood that she had to say this in this exact manner; otherwise, she was due for a punishment she rather avoided. I nodded understandingly. I was aware that we had to be careful with our words, even if we were a bit away from the Circle. The ears of Dark Eldar were sharp enough to hear every single word and they possibly were not fond of cheeky slaves.

I said, "I'd better get back to work."

She nodded and replied, "Yes. I hope we talk to each other again – in the same state of mind." I smiled and nodded shortly. Then I went back to the Circle.

I had learnt more about her in this conversation through the things she had not said. Apparently, she had to be quite clever and adult for her age, but I guessed one either learnt that lesson quickly as the personal slave of an Archon or perished. That she was that young also spoke its own language, for I had been aware that Ea'nash was a sick bastard, but how sick he truly had to be was clearly shown by the age of his personal slave. Maybe I would ascertain his madness one day, but for now, I was happy that I did not.

I was aware that I had to talk with the slaves about their masters somehow, because the more I knew about their personalities, the better I could serve and impress them. I just had to do it discreetly.

I went back to the Overlord, who was now about to get up. Jokingly, he said, "Wish me luck."

I replied, "I doubt that this has anything to do with luck, my lord."

His teeth flashed through his diabolic smile and he stated, "Good answer."

As Vect got up, he said, "Gentlemen, I would like to change the rules a bit for today. Since it is hardly fair that I fight against the best of you well-rested, while you two already had to fight, I would like to fight the second best first, although I will have to substitute my Hierarch for you, Vyras, since you hardly have a place in this fight whilst you are injured." It was apparent on Vyras's face how little he liked those words, but he was wise enough to not say a single word. The rest approved the plan (what choice did they have), and Sythrac and Atanel went into the arena to meet their Overlord's demand.

Thus, Asdrubael Vect, the Supreme Overlord of Commorragh, entered the arena. Wearing nothing but a black, wide-cut pair of trousers, much like a Hakama from earth, together with a tightly woven sash and bandages around his wrists and hands. His training partners turned around and gazed deep into their Overlord's eyes, he returned their stare. Then, they shortly bowed to each other, like etiquette demanded it. With a light, almost unnoticeable limp he walked into the combat ring and Atanel bared his teeth for a fierce, bloodthirsty grin.

"Are you wounded, my lord, or is the age simply getting the better of you?" Sythrac softly said with a sneer on his face, just loud enough for the spectators to hear.

A holographic image flashed and came into being in Vect's hand, a facsimile of the Sceptre of the Dark City he used in combat. "Seeing you brought along your walking stick, we would not want to damage our Overlord any further, agreed?" Sythrac continued mockingly. I really wondered if he was out of his mind to speak to the Overlord like this. Then again, he was his Hierarch and he was possibly the only one around here that was allowed to do so, maybe even asked to question his master.

"Not damaged or old enough to be unable to show you how fast you can fall, Sythrac!" Vect hissed back, nevertheless slightly angered by his Hierarch. Atanel burst out in a shrill, cackling roar of laughter, obviously amused by the exchange of verbal blows.

"Enough of the bravado and baring of fangs! Are you ready? Or are you scared of an old man, so that you have to use your tongues instead of your weapons?" Vect spat contemptuously.

Vect assumed a combat stance, bending both knees, bringing his weight nearer to the ground and flashed his weapon, circling it once over his head and to each of his sides. Atanel did not need more of an invitation than that. He burst into action, charging, before the Overlord could finish his display. He took off from the ground, and lunged at his opponent, closing the distance in a mere heartbeat and swinging his Hellglaive in a crescent move overhead, aiming to cut his opponent open – if it had been a real weapon. Vect, suddenly faster than he had made them believe, brought the sceptre in between them and blocked Atanel's blow with a strained grunt. Atanel, however, fought to win, and put his lithe build and agility to good use. Turning in mid-air, he shifted his weight and used the other head of his weapon to strike under the guard of the Overlord, as his feet finally touched the ground. But Vect was gone with a fluent side-step and Atanel's Hellglaive hit thin air, barely so, as it seemed to me; but it was this moment that the hunter became the hunted. Vect already had brought his weapon around and smashed the full length of his weapon's shaft against Atanel, clearly aiming for his throat. The flawless face of the young former outlaw showed surprise and regret, but he managed to bring his weapon in between and to bluntly block the blow. However, he had no time left to shift his stance and weight and so the force of the strike knocked him off his feet, directly into a disgruntled Valossian Sythrac, who had aimed to use his ally's agile assault to move into striking position. Sythrac used one hand to stabilise Atanel's momentum and shoved him back to face Vect.

"Meddling fool, get faster or get cleverer! Cross my path again and I will take an ear!" Sythrac boomed to Atanel's back.

A faint smile passed over the Overlord's flawless face. "Shall I leave the lovebirds to their quarrel, or are we still fighting?" he mocked his opponents.

Atanel flashed his teeth, his face distorted in an enraged visage, turning his peerless beauty into a reminder of the horrors he would inflict on those who wronged him. He charged again, but not as blindly as before, he kept turning, shifting his weight, forwards, backwards, sidewards, each turn and shift spinning his Hellglaive around overhead, aiming with each revolution for his Overlord's throat, legs, arms or whatever else he thought was unguarded.

The shifting distance between them and the sheer speed of the combatants made it nauseating to watch for me, I blacked out for a second, hit by vertigo, and for a short while, I could only hear the sound of sharp instruments whistling through the air and the chime of blocks and ripostes.

I finally regained my breath and consciousness and realised I had watched the combat without drawing a single breath. I tried to follow it again, but the fight had reached a tempo that almost made it impossible to make out the individual contestants.

At some point, I found my focus and saw that Atanel had never broken his destructive dance; he possibly would have ripped and torn the Overlord's Hakama if it had been a real weapon, but he would never have touched his skin. Sythrac, on the other hand, saw that Vect had his hands full with the agile assault of Atanel and used precise strikes to disrupt Vect's movement. Every step, shift of weight or block of the Overlord caused Sythrac to react, favourably attacking from a presumed blind spot.

"How does he keep track of them?" I had to wonder.

All of them were sweating bullets by now, all expressions of rage or amusement gave way to a look of pure focus and concentration. Sythrac's Huskblade always got closer to Vect's skin, each dodge and block getting more strained as the latter had to watch out for Atanel's continuous hail of blows as well. The combat got more compact, distances were closed, Vect was somehow losing this. Atanel must have thought so as well, as he broke out in laughter and stopped his dance, ending it with one fell overhead chop, aiming directly for Vect's calvaria, shifting all his weight into the blow. Sythrac waited for the reaction of his Overlord, and as Vect turned to block Atanel's grand finale, he aimed to thrust his Huskblade between his opponent's shoulder blades, in one perfectly studied and disciplined motion.

Vect had other plans.

Seeing Atanel shifting all his weight towards him, he stepped right up to him, catching the blade of Atanel's weapon with the business end of his sceptre. With one fell jab, he added to the weapon's already impressive momentum, resulting in Atanel, slowly becoming aware of his demise, losing his stance, falling straight forward, as Vect sidestepped him. Atanel's blade connected, directly chopping into Sythrac between his shoulder and neck, who, in turn, jabbed a both furious and panicked Atanel straight into the face, who so unwillingly had swapped places with his actual target. Screams of pain echoed through the arena, one slightly shrill and decisively more horrific to behold than the other one. Even having to feel what the death by the Huskblade was like had to be a maddening experience. Turning to dust could not be fun.

A chuckle remained.

And then the screaming started again.

"Insolent, unrefined, blunt, idiotic MISFIT!" Sythrac boomed in a voice that could probably instil respect and fear into anyone.

Atanel, however, was unimpressed, because he retorted in a both negligent and caustic tone, "What do you expect, old man? An apology? We fought together, we lost together. If you had taken a more active part, who knows what the merits could have been?"

With this insolence, Sythrac came over him, swinging his fist with the intent to damage, Atanel, not expecting such rashness in his superior, never had the time to react.

"ENOUGH!"

Vect's voice boomed through the arena, nearly deafening me and letting Sythrac freeze in mid-motion. "You are both right. You fought together and lost. Learn from it. Did you hear that? Learn from it, especially you, Atanel. If you were as good as you think you are, you would not be as easy to exploit by a skilled fighter," he explained, in a voice that demanded and allowed no objection. "Go, I have to rest up before the next one. Good warm-up though," he mocked them, while sending them away. It was apparent on both their faces that they were upset about their failure, but they did not dare to say a single word and just moved silently back to their loungers – like two children that had been caught stealing sweets and had been reprimanded – after acknowledging their Overlord with a bow.

Vect, on the other hand, shortly stayed in the arena, apparently to catch his breath, then he came to me, moving even smoother than a cat. It was this second I realised that he had never been truly limping, he had just acted like it to make his opponents careless and unsure. He gave himself a weakness to be exploited, which did not exist, and, in turn, exploited his enemies' strategic use of it.

That devious bastard.

I already had the crystal-clear water, which he would have demanded anyways, ready for him. As I handed the cup to him I just asked, "Why? And why lie to me?"

Vect smiled, the cleverness and superiority now showed clearly again and he deigned to explain, "To your first question: to make them careless and also for my amusement. To your second: you are not a seasoned enough liar to keep it from them had anybody asked you. So, do not look so betrayed, it was just best for both of us; or, at least, for me." Of course, why should he look out for me?

After a few minutes, the combatants for the next match started entering the arena and I received permission from my master to watch the fight from the first row.

Nuscul, the lean, catlike and young Archon was the first to enter the arena. Unlike the others so far, he sported a black full body glove, two dangerously looking daggers – one barbed, like nothing I had ever seen before, but seeming as if it dealt wounds that never healed, a Wych Blade, I guessed; the other one blackened, tarnished with a greenish sheen, must have been the deadly Venom Blade – and his usual, ever-present, faint smile. He was known to be smiling all the time, unless he became serious in combat or any other confrontation. At this point, I assumed, people rather were trying to keep him smiling for their own good, as an earnest face of him could prove lethal to his surrounding fellow Dark Eldar. He put his daggers aside and continued with some stretching exercises, looking very much like a cat while doing it, whilst Zuol entered the arena.

Wrapped in a black Hakama, he wasted no time, concentrated and summoned his holographic weapons; Demiklaives, a pair of vambraces, doped with razor-sharp, curved blades, and a vicious pauldron for his left shoulder, crowned by thick, conic thorns, ending in twisted barbs. Lastly, he crowned himself with a circlet, adorned with a long, jagged chaos of blades. At this point, he simply had to ram an opponent to bray him. His manic, blood-thirsting grin was all the reassurance I needed to be sure that somehow, he had that idea to begin with. Compared to the battles before, in which he only had sported the two vambraces, he was obviously using all his options here, although I was not sure if that was a good sign.

Vect entered the arena last and made no big show or flashy display; he simply held his right hand open and summoned the Sceptre of the Dark City.

"I would like to make a joke about an old man and his walking stick, but the ladies could get the wrong idea," Nuscul said in a casual voice, as if he and the Supreme Overlord had nothing better to do in their free time than spending it in each other's company. To my surprise, Vect's laugh was the loudest in the room and he seemed unperturbed by the implied familiarity.

"If you prove competent, you will find some child making jokes in your honour as well, Nuscul," he joked, louder and less casual than Nuscul himself.

The young Archon laughed and strangely, it seemed sincere. He wiped away a tear of laughter and puffed, "Harder, daddy!"

And the observing members of the Circle went wild.

His Wych training showed he was used to entertaining a crowd, a bloodthirsty, deranged, always-expecting-more kind of crowd. He lived up to it very well, I guessed. I felt entertained as well, although I did not dare chime in the laughter, for I feared the repercussions it may have had.

Vect's laughter subsided and he shook his head, looking at Nuscul, still smiling, "After all the things I have heard about you, I know this: if you are as fast as your mating rites, I am literally fucked." At this point, I was far from sure if Vect merely did his part in entertaining the observers or simply playing another gambit. I never had guessed that even the comprehension of such taunting humour was possible for him, let alone reacting to it that well and playfully.

Nuscul was laughing tears again and fought for air for a few seconds.

Zuol had not had any reaction to all the humorous exchanges whatsoever. He stood there like a statue, simply staring into thin air as if all of this was a mortal embarrassment and beneath him. As if he would have liked to demonstrate his objection to the continuance of this display, he separated the Demiklaives from each other and swung them around the back of his hand, frowning, as if he was displeased with the holographic weapons.

Nuscul followed that display, turned back to Vect and took the bait, "If I did not know any better, Zuol here wants to tell us something. It's probably something about his father and how he never acknowledged him, even in his final moments." The crowd broke out in laughter again and a somewhat surprised murmur followed as Nuscul hit the floor, rolled back over his shoulder and recovered his stance. Zuol lowered his stretched-out leg, which was taking the place Nuscul's chest had been occupying half a second – or even less – before.

"Make fun of me once more, pretty boy, and the jar holding your remains will be ten times the worth of what is left of you. Do you hear me?" Zuol said in a vitriolic voice, baring his fangs, giving him – together with his barbed circlet – the looks of a bloodthirsty and mad warrior king.

Vect chuckled and said, "Well, I see you can hardly wait for me, Zuol. Shall we begin? Activate the dampening field!" The deep, rolling sound of the dampening field grew until the seats on the observation deck were only slightly vibrating. The combatants bowed before each other and assumed their combat stances.

Vect's stance was open but he distributed his weight evenly, allowing him to act and react equally fast.

Zuol and Nuscul had a different philosophy. No matter how little they liked each other, they were two professional fighters, a gladiator and a soldier prodigy, and thus synergised perfectly. They had one thing in abundance and that was speed.

Nuscul moved first, charging in low, dodging Vect's jab in the last split of a second, aiming for his upper leg with both daggers, one coming in from behind, one from the front, a movement that reminded me of a venomous snake's bite. Vect immediately deflected the Venom Blade, a weapon he evidently respected in combat, but before he could bring his sceptre around to block the Wych Blade, Zuol came over him. Disgruntled and annoyed Vect brought the weapon around to deflect a well-timed overhead cleaving strike from Zuol, with both blades striking the sceptre only half a second apart, effectively even disrupting something as crude as this weapon-to-weapon block. Nuscul, however, did not stop his assault and although Vect had destabilised him entirely by deflecting his main hand, he used the counter-momentum to drive the Wych Blade deep into the Supreme Overlord's thigh.

Vect's face shortly turned into a visage of pain and hatred, but only for a split second, and he returned to his focused gaze, as if he also drew strength from his own agony. Lightning-fast he shifted his weight to his healthy leg – at this point, it was clear that Nuscul had severed something important in his right leg – and smashed the sceptre towards Nuscul's temple. Zuol tried to block with the Demiklaive in his left hand, but was too close to Vect to effectively use his other blade. Therefore, he smashed the apex of his forehead into Vect's face and the vicious, barbed circlet connected. The Sceptre of the Dark City had been stopped less than a millimetre in front of Nuscul's face and Vect had to take a little jump back – stepping was becoming too arduous, as it seemed – due to Zuol's forehead smash.

It was hard to follow the combat simply by not knowing what damage had been caused exactly, as the holo-arena merely simulated the adequate amount of pain and numbing of senses or paralysis of muscles, but for someone not being wounded directly, all one could have done was guess to assess the damage.

Nuscul performed an acrobatic reverse somersault after he arced over backwards once in order to increase the distance between him and Vect. He evidently was not convinced that these wounds made the Overlord any less dangerous. He nodded acknowledging towards Zuol who nodded back and smiled for the first time since he had entered the arena. Both knew that Nuscul only was still competing because of Zuol, but both were too professional to make a fuss about it.

Although they might have been pleased with the damage they caused so far, they did not show it and their concentration remained unbroken. They circled around the Supreme Overlord until they were at exact opposite sides and even though Zuol was clearly the better fighter, Vect chose to follow Nuscul with his eyes more than Zuol.

Both of the attackers burst into action again, the wounded Vect right in the middle. He spun around on his healthy leg, spinning his weapon around his girth and as Nuscul lunged in like a pouncing jaguar, he took a huge jump back – I had no idea that he had that kind of strength with only one leg contributing most of the power – and smashed the upper end of the sceptre right across Zuol. As the Archon was in mid-charge, he could not do anything but bluntly weapon-block it, however, this time, the sceptre discharged, sending Zuol flying four metres back, spinning wildly and out of control and ultimately smashing into the arena ground with a fleshy thud. Nuscul seemed to increase the speed even further, but the observers gasped at the performance that transpired further. Vect – with his eyes closed – leant back perfectly horizontally in the split of a second by which time he had brought the upper end of the sceptre right before his face. Nuscul took a dive, sliding the last metre towards Vect, both his weapons ready, focused on an upside-down staring Vect. But yet again Vect showed why he was unbeaten in combat, leaping into the air, letting a perfectly executed assault of Nuscul go to waste as the young Dark Eldar slid by down below, far out of range for two daggers, not, however, for the Sceptre of the Dark City. Vect slammed the business end of his weapon into Nuscul's chest, nailing him onto the ground, while also using the weapon to slow his descent at which time Nuscul was screaming out of his mind.

The sceptre was feared for its lethality, I dared not picture what an exposure, which Nuscul just had to experience, did to oneself. Simulated or not, this was probably one of the worst kinds of pain imaginable – even for the Dark Eldar – I concluded.

Zuol had risen by that time, turning around, staring bluntly at Vect. Nuscul still screamed in a high-pitched voice, thrashing around due to the sheer amount of pain. It might have been only a few seconds, but I was thankful when he fell unconscious. Even though I had witnessed horrific things since I had been taken captive, no other scream compared to this and I suddenly realised that if they did this only for training purposes, what horrors may they reserve for and inflict upon others? So far, I had to deem myself lucky to have gotten away with what I did.

Vect, who had been observing the twitching, thrashing Nuscul all the time, nodded acknowledging afterwards and said, "I believe no one has sustained a hit like this and remained conscious for so long. He can sustain more damage than he can deal and yet has a lot of time left to learn. Impressive. I am anxious to see what will become of him in terms of a fighter; he might prove a true challenge one day." Zuol struggled to remain focused. Somehow, the praise and respect for Vect's fallen enemy had triggered something in him and with heavy steps, he walked towards Vect, spinning one blade clockwise, the other one counter-clockwise around his hands, once. Vect assumed a defensive stance – obviously the best choice in his current state – and waited for Zuol's onslaught.

But Zuol did not charge, lunge or assault him. He walked around him, slowly, calmly, forcing Vect to turn around with his revolution around him, knowing that no matter how strong he was, at some point even his leg had to tire. Vect seemed a lot slower and weaker than before, but Zuol also knew about the use of feinting and ruses in combat and he made it clear that he chose when to attack and that he would not be lured into playing by his enemy's rules. With every revolution he came a little closer and at that precise moment at which he was in Vect's range, the Supreme Overlord lashed out at him.

Almost disgusted, he deflected the attack with one blade, but he did not pursue to attack. Again, he made clear that he had the upper hand and would fight as he saw fit, not as somebody else dictated, not even if his enemy was the Supreme Overlord of Commorragh. Vect lived on borrowed time here, he had the advantage of range, but he was wounded and in close combat, the usage of two weapons simply was more flexible and faster than a staff-like weapon.

Vect became more offensive, but after Zuol's last encounter with the sceptre, the Archon trod carefully, always deflecting the dangerous blows, dodging others, and also remaining in control. Vect looked tired and annoyed by the fight, but both of them remained focused; however, it seemed as if Zuol's forehead smash had damaged Vect's face on its left side.

It was hard to assess – in the holo-arena blood was never drawn – but it seemed as if Vect had his eyes wide open, more than necessary, as if he had suffered a bleeding on his forehead that slowly dripped into his eyes.

Finally, Zuol decided to end it and showed his superiority by using his two weapons to great advantage. Whenever Vect lashed out at him, he used one Demiklaive to deflect his attack, and the other one to attack, while making sure to use the hooked end of his blades with every block to drag his enemy's weapon around, disrupting his stance by shifting his weight. After a few such manoeuvres, Vect was littered with cuts, some superficial, others deeper – or at least I assumed so, as the arena showed no wounds sustained by the fighters to the observers and Vect showed no pain whatsoever – but the Overlord refused to desist.

Zuol, however, refused to let down his guard for the final blow. To me, it looked as if a younger, stronger tiger circled the old, experienced one that he wanted out of his territory, but Vect had no intention of leaving. Zuol struck him once more and Vect feinted a block and as Zuol struck with the other hand again, Vect ducked, and brought his weapon up from under the left arm of Zuol. Although his first attack had connected, Zuol had to overstretch a little to make that happen and this time Vect used Zuol's blades to his own advantage. He lodged the lower end of the sceptre in the hook at the end of the Demiklaive and dragged Zuol half a step towards him. When he smashed the sceptre upwards, it connected to Zuol's arm, who, in turn, brought the free arm around – under which Vect had ducked earlier – and chopped down towards Vect's left arm as well, while his face was contorted by the enormous concentration necessary to not be overcome by pain.

The two fighters distanced themselves from each other – mainly by Zuol taking a few steps back – and fought for breath. With a loud clink, he had dropped the Demiklaive from his left hand and he bared his fangs without making a single sound, except the drawing of his breath. Zuol looked at his left arm, hanging down limp and useless.

However, this time, I saw it clearly, Zuol's attack had connected as well, although he did not have much space and probably did not sever anything important, he had struck Vect along his entire back and the back of his left arm. Also, he had employed the barbed vambrace and had torn Vect's left wrist. The Overlord's arm was not entirely useless, but the disadvantage was great for someone using a spear-like weapon.

They smiled at each other and Vect was seemingly not the only one drawing strength from his own pain. Vect stood up straight for the first time after he was wounded by Nuscul and placed his weapon vertically beside him, while Zuol rose his remaining blade straight upwards before himself, the edge facing towards his enemy. Zuol marched forward, determined to finish this, it was obvious that if he played for time, he would lose this, as Vect just had proved. With mighty cleaving motions he seemingly missed the Supreme Overlord by a millimetre at best, and when he drew back, he slashed him with his vambrace while evading his massively slowed strikes.

At this point, I was not sure anymore if Zuol toyed with Vect or simply could not do any more than just aim to hurt. Vect's decreasing speed made it enormously challenging for him to perform a sincere attack at all, but he refused to give Zuol an easy way out. The fight continued like this for a few seconds until Zuol had sealed his demise. When he cleaved and aimed directly for Vect's neck, the Overlord knew he would not be able to deflect or block this momentum anymore. He ducked again, smuggled the blunt end of the sceptre beside Zuol's front leg and to the surprise of Zuol and all observers he let himself drop to the ground and kicked the sceptre's rear as hard as he could with his healthy leg. Zuol's eyes widened with surprise and rage as he fell straight on his back, right beside a sneering Vect. Before Zuol hit the ground, Vect's right hand was shortly behind the crystal end of the sceptre and as soon as he could he rammed it into Zuol's armpit – the only exposed and vital point he could reach and that would make sure of incapacitating his enemy – while laughing frantically.

His eerie laugh mixed with Zuol's horrible death-cry. The Archon did not do much better than Nuscul, he also ended up screaming and thrashing around and after some agonised seconds he too fell unconscious.

Vect's laugh remained, as he slowly got up from the floor of the arena. Revelling some moments in the sweet taste of his victory, he stood there, motionless, braced on his sceptre, chuckling manically to himself. Then, he deigned to switch off the holo-field, with it the dampening field, the holograms of the weapons and the pain-inducers.

With this, Zuol and Nuscul came back to life, and they got up rather slowly, apparently still recovering from the shock they had just received. Vect said, "Gentlemen, I have to thank you for this truly enticing and challenging fight, it has been a while since I had to exert myself that much! Go now and rest, you surely deserve it!" His enemies seemed as if they had no strength left for objections or jokes, they just bowed to him in silence and he also graced them with a bow of his own. Then, they left the arena, clearly exhausted.

Vect took a deep, relished breath, I could see it even from where I was, stretched himself like a cat after a long nap, and then also made his way out of the arena.

It truly was astonishing – the Overlord had not lost an ounce of his cattiness as he came back to me, though he had just fought a truly hard battle. Only the sweat on his skin showed that he had just exerted himself. I waited for him down at the exit of the arena to be there for him if he had any instructions for me. As he passed me, gently running his fingertips over my hair, he did not even breathe heavily any longer. Something was completely different about Vect, compared to all the other Dark Eldar I had met; there was something about him that was just… more. I was unable to say what it was, but I planned on finding it out.

Somewhat confused I gazed after him as he and all the members of the Circle vanished through different doors. Only now I realised that there were nine, each for every member.

Nevertheless, I let out a relieved sigh as all Dark Eldar had left the room. Now was my chance to talk to the girls, without having to fear that one wrong word could merit some punishment. I asked them about their names and told them mine:

1. Zethina
2. Akadia
3. Cyrine
4. Rhia
5. Lethe
6. Aenid
7. Tzarine
8. Taura

Some of them even had a hard time remembering their names, because they had been here for a long time and their masters simply did not care about what they were called. 'A long time' in this context meant between five and ten years. The oldest of us, Lethe, who was about thirty years old, was an exception for surviving for ten years around here. The fewest slaves survived that long in such a position. Of course, I was the only one that did not come from the Imperium, the rest had either been taken captive whilst raids or had been wounded in battle and had been nurtured back to full health, only to be sold as slaves. Why they had been particularly chosen, most of them did not know, but just as I did, all of them did everything in their power to maintain their current rank, just to not be degraded to a torture slave. Some knew that it had been their beauty or complexion that had merited them their current position.

I knew that I had to take this chance to find out more about the Circle members, for if someone knew them well, from a human perspective, it was their personal slaves. Therefore, I cut down to the chase and talked to every single one of them, whilst we did the dishes.

I started with Zethina. I was not surprised that she spoke with fear in her voice, since her body showed several scars and also some fresh wounds. "Archon Sythrac, the Hierarch? Not much to tell about him except the fact that he likes to torture the hell out of me. He is a really mean one, sadistic from head to toes, cruel. But he is extremely self-controlled and nothing he does happens out of erratic motives. More than once he told me how much he would like to see how far your composure goes. He is cautious with you, though, since he distrusts the Overlord's schemes and suspects you as a spy." I thanked her, for this was vital information for me.

Akadia was next; also she seemed to be cautious when talking about her master, though 'only' some small bruises were to be seen on her body. "Zuol is dangerous. He has a sharp mind, keen eyes, but his blade is even sharper and he knows what he can do. He takes me everywhere he goes, so I come around a lot and he loves to torment me by showing me how close freedom is to me, but that I will never have it. He is careful with you, though, since he does not know what to make of you. But I warn you: given the opportunity, he will test you and it will be a game that is designed to hurt. All the advice I can give you, is: be courageous and tough, he somehow likes that." This was the second time I had heard that. I would test it out carefully.

Cyrine had to say the following, but was more relaxed than her colleagues, "Archon Sarnak sees me only as his pet. I am just an animal to him, an animal that happens to be able to talk. He is cruel, patronising and arrogant. He thinks of you no different, but still, there is some interest in him about you that makes him cautious, since he asks himself what the Overlord sees in you."

Next was Rhia, she seemed to be one of the most mentally unstable around here. Her eyes grew wide and dark as I asked her about her master; she leant close to me and whispered in a frightened tone, "Don't be blinded by how Vyras treats you around here. He is sick. He is cruel. He does unspeakable things to me. And, if he gets the chance, he will do these very things to you. Be careful, he is always watching… always…" I truly pitied her. This poor girl had to have endured terrible things, because this panic-fuelled fear of her master was real and I figured with horror that he had to torment her in a psychic manner, because she had no visible wounds. Sadly, there was nothing I could do for her…

Then, I talked to Lethe. She had something utterly soothing about her, possibly she had the mindset that she had survived long enough around here and had not much left to fear. I was surprised to see her smile as I asked her about Archon Nuscul. "Oh, believe me, I am a lucky one around here. For an Archon, I guess, he is quite nice, though he loves to put me on drugs or make me drunk. He is decadent, lecherous, loves to toy and sleep with me, but rarely hurts me. Also, he has quite the sense of humour, pitch-black humour of course, but still. Hit a bit on him sarcastically, you will see, he likes it. Do that and you might have his interest and favour," she told me.

After that, I talked to Aenid, the one I had talked to earlier. She seemed to be a rough and tough personality, able to take a lot for her age. "Ea'nash? I think you already figured him out. Lecherous, evil, sadistic, batshit crazy. He orchestrates very special games for me in his quarters and sleeps with me every day, but also a lot of pain is involved and hell, I am not the only one he sleeps with every single day. He likes you. He wants you. And, if he should get you, you will spend the night of your life with him. Keep up that 'little girl' act, I can assure you, you drive him mad with it. He is a paedophile, well, at least in their standards. I was fourteen when I came to be his and lucky to be very open-minded, if you know what I mean." I knew all too well what she meant.

Tzarine had to say the following about her master, "Atanel is arrogant, very proud of what he achieved. He was once a Hellion, you know. He does not care much for you or me or any human except when it comes down to be there for his amusement. And I can tell you it is a painful and tiring game. He is sadistic, as they all are, I guess, but he only shows that very rarely in public. And he is cautious with you. Nothing more to say." Tzarine seemed to be somewhat absent-minded, maybe this was because of fatigue, because dark rings were under her eyes and some of her wounds seemed to be fresh.

Last but not least, I spoke with Taura. She seemed rather calm, but was also unscathed – for now. "Tahril is too occupied at the moment with keeping up with the rest of the Circle to have time for anything else. I am only very shortly with him, since he bought me as a treat for himself when he entered the Overlord's Circle. He is a successor of another Archon, as I understand it. So… I did not have much time to figure him out."

I thanked all of them for the information; some of it would help me along.

I would have loved to stay amongst my kind a bit longer, but Lethe, as the most experienced one here, said, "It is time to return to our masters. They will be in need of our services and the last thing we want is to keep them waiting." We agreed, bid us farewell and then went to our masters.

I also stepped into the room of the Overlord and was surprised to find him lying in a bathtub. Since it was embedded in the floor, I assumed that it had been covered with the stone slabs beforehand. He did not face me, but, of course, he had heard me, because he said, "Come here, child, I have some instructions for you!" I obeyed and knelt myself on the rim of the bathtub, beside his head. "Some of the Circle members have requested a massage from you. Do it well, but do not do it too well! I do not want them to be suspicious about who really had trained you. You will go to Zuol and Ea'nash, in that order. When you are done, one of my guards will take you back to my quarters." I nodded and got up to follow his command. As I was at the door, he softly added, "And… good thinking with Vyras and Ea'nash. I liked that." I thanked him sincerely and then went out.

On the quite short way to Zuol's chamber it occurred to me: I had to play this political game, which was omnipresent in Commorragh, too, if I wanted to survive; in fact, Vect had made it quite clear to me right now, by commending my sly behaviour when it came down to his Circle. I let out a determined grunt. I had my wits and would not go down because of political issues, for I always had had a hand for playing people. I 'just' had gone from puppies' to master's classes when it came down to that.

After this realisation, I hurried to get to Zuol and a few seconds later I entered his chamber. The Archon also still was in the bathtub, his eyes closed. Apparently to entertain himself, he let a small throwing dagger dance around his left fingers, flipped it into the air, caught it again in an agile manner just at the tip on one of his fingertips and continued with these hypnotic movements, without moving his arm a lot. It truly was fascinating to watch and it showed how much he had mastered the skills with a blade. Harsh and martial were the two words that described Zuol best.

The Archon did not so much as look at me when I entered, he just said, "Come here and do what you are here for, slave!"

I was surprised that Akadia was nowhere to be found; apparently, he had sent her away. Obediently I came to him and knelt beside his head, so that he did not have to turn it if he deigned to look at me. Shyly, I asked, "My lord, which part of your body shall I massage?"

He opened his eyes and I flinched as he let the tip of the dagger, which he had just played around with, stroke over my flank so softly that its tip did not even scratch me and he replied, "Make an educated guess, slave! You are not that stupid, are you?"

I answered, "I'm sorry, my lord. I just wanted to be absolutely sure."

Zuol closed his eyes again and said, shrugging and bored, "Fair enough."

I started with my work immediately. I only needed a short scan to feel that his neck- and shoulder muscles were a bit strained and I quickly found the soothing and relaxing points on his body. I started massaging his head – not as expertly as I could, since I was not allowed to show too much of my skills. It did not take long for me to realise how muscular Zuol was and that his muscles were far more steeled than Vect's. Zuol was a warrior to the core. Because of his distinctive musculature, it was incredibly taxing for me to massage him, because I needed a lot of pressure to make the massage have any effect.

Alas, it was not that easy to fool Zuol.

He did not trust me at all and whilst he still had his eyes closed, he started to slowly drill the dagger into my left side, right beneath my ribcage. While he did this, he said, "I'm quite sure that you can do better than that. What you did to Vyras seemed far more efficient than what you do now, slave. And I doubt that the Overlord would be satisfied with this mediocre massage." Then, he seemed to change his mind again, because he opened his eyes and grabbed me by my chin, dragging me pretty close to him. He hissed at me, "Do it as well as if you gave it to him or I'll flay some parts of you, you little whore!"

I swallowed, intimidated by his fierce behaviour, and said with a trembling voice, "I will do my very best, my lord, but I'm afraid that this is all this lowly slave can manage."

I only showed through a slight gritting of my teeth how much he hurt me with the cut he now drew down my left side. Zuol locked his hard gaze with mine all of the time. Only as he was done and had the dagger pulled out of my flesh, he made a musing sound and stated, "Hmm, I can't tell whether you are lying or not. Either you are incredibly well-trained even in this field of expertise or you are really not as good as I thought. Both would surprise me, actually. Then again, I find it interesting how well you handle pain. Someone has taught you quite a lot." He let go of me, shrugged, then added, "Ah, well. Do your best, little slave! We will see how long the Overlord will suffer your mediocre performance."

Thus I started massaging him again, showing a bit more of my skill and was rewarded with a relished sound. Zuol was silent for a while and enjoyed the massage, though he accentuated it for himself with my pained grunts and gasps, as he inserted the dagger once again into the fresh wound and cut it open several times. It took all my will and concentration to remain somewhat calm, not to try to avoid this torture and to still keep on massaging him. The cut he had given me was neither deep nor dangerous for me, but having to feel the blade at this already agonised part of my body over and over again was highly excruciating. I tried to show him as little as possible, but I could not help the tears in my eyes. I knew that he savoured my suffering.

As I was done massaging him, all his muscles relaxed, Zuol opened his eyes again and stated, "Not bad. But also not as extraordinary as I had anticipated." He sat up, turned around to face me and added, "But still, it is interesting how calm and concentrated you were, considering that I gave you pain and not an insignificant amount either. I think I begin to understand why the Overlord has chosen you and keeps you unbroken."

I bowed my head and replied, "Thank you, my lord."

He let out a contemptuous huff. "Oh, don't thank me, slave. I still don't think that you will last longer as his slave than… let's say… a month? What you have shown today may be interesting at best, but you have to do better than interesting to keep the Overlord entertained. And now, leave. I no longer have use of your services."

There was nothing in the world I loved to do more.

As I was out of the room, I paused shortly to gather myself. I had acted this submissive on purpose to test my hypothesis on Zuol, namely the one that it was wiser to be a bit defiant and tough towards him, since he seemed to respect courage. It had been clearly visible how much he despised overly-obedient slaves, since I guessed he had seen enough of them and was bored by the notion of having to deal with another one of those weaklings. He would be a piece of work, but I now knew what I had to do, though it had cost me dearly. Irritated, I snorted and looked at my wound, but was happy to find that it was not too deep and had already closed quite fragilely. I meditated shortly to calm myself down and then went into Ea'nash's room.

The Archon was no longer in the bathtub, but rather sat on a quite comfortable looking sofa and he was just clad in a towel that was around his hips. As always, he smiled at me wolfishly as he saw me. Also, Aenid was out of sight. What I also had noticed by now was that every changing room was furnished completely individually. Vect's and Zuol's rooms had shown frugal and belligerent necessity; Ea'nash's looked luxurious and comfortable.

The Archon said to me, "Ah, sweet child, come here and sit with me!" It was clear to me that he wanted me to sit on his lap, therefore, I wanted to place myself on him like I had in the training room, but he said, "No, you'll have to face me, otherwise it will be hard for you to massage my head, hmm?" I sighed and rolled my eyes on the inside, but did as he bid me. Therefore, I sat on his lap the other way around, my knees left and right from his hips and my bottom in his lap. Ea'nash softly caressed my fresh wound without hurting me and asked, "Who did that to you, child?"

I answered, "Archon Zuol, my lord."

The young Archon shook his head with a contemptuous grunt and snarled, "Ugh, that mannerless brute! I still don't get how this waste of nobility can be a Trueborn! To mar such soft and young skin, that's a crime!" I was surprised that his anger seemed to be sincere.

Apparently, it had been a flash of irascibility, because he calmed down again, smiled and added, "Heh. I guess my slave would disagree with my words here, since I cut her time and again, but I have to say she had it coming every single time. And…" He caressed my cheek. "…you, my dear, are a completely new level of… beauteous."

I dropped my gaze and replied shyly, "Thank you, my lord. You give me too much honour." His compliments flattered me, though I knew he was into me and they were possibly meant in a mocking way.

His smile now turned into the wolfish one I already knew so well and he responded, "Oh, don't be so modest, child! I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it." He took my wrists, kissed their insides tenderly, his teeth tickling my sensitive skin and he said, "Well, my dear, do what you are here for, though I have to admit that I would love to do some other things to you." I smiled at him sheepishly, and then I laid my hands upon his head. I immediately felt the acupressure points and also felt that he was not as muscular as Vect or Zuol, but far more sinewy. He was quick, even for a Dark Eldar, and he had shown that in his duel against Nuscul today. Matching with an ex-Wych was no easy task.

I massaged him tenderly, but not as well as I could and I avoided the tips of his ears like the plague, because I knew that some of the most erogenous points lay there and I was sure that it was not wise to arouse him even further. I did not want to experience a Dark Eldar raging with ecstasy, because I already had experienced what an aroused, but still disciplined Dark Eldar could do to me. I feared that not a lot of restraint was left in them when they were in this state.

Ea'nash did not close his eyes, though, but decided to rather stare at me with a broad and satisfied grin. He made me shiver as he caressed my flanks and belly tenderly and I could easily read in his face how much he enjoyed my reactions. Ea'nash let me do my work quite some time, but at some point, he laid his hands upon my head and – as I had expected it, which was why I stayed so calm and was able to enjoy it somewhat – drew me against him and kissed me. I obediently opened my mouth as he demanded entry with his tongue and also returned his kiss compliantly. It truly was a passionate and wild kiss and the Archon showed me clearly how much he desired me. His fingers dug themselves deeper into my hair as he felt my answer to his kiss. Again, Ea'nash tasted and felt completely different than Chu'uk or Vect. His lips were soft, but extremely flexible and he tasted warm and somewhat milky, with a touch of cool menthol, which made the whole experience somewhat tingling. His tongue was pleasant to feel, I assumed this was because he was quite young for a Dark Eldar. The kiss lasted for quite some while and I had to admit that he knew what he was doing, but Vect outdid him easily in every aspect.

At some point, he drew his mouth slowly away from mine, but then pulled me against him and whispered into my ear, "Feels and tastes a bit different than the old guy, hmm? Well, that's what young Trueborns are like." This was a truly impudent remark and he could only hope that Vect never got to hear this insolence. For now, I just nodded silently and let out an affirmative hum. Trueborn were known for their despicable pride and exorbitant arrogance and three of the four Trueborn I had met so far matched that description perfectly. Only Tahril had not shown anything, but I had to admit that I had not dealt enough with him to truly know. I had the feeling that this boldness would be the downfall of some of them.

For a while Ea'nash held me like this, softly caressing my bottom and I could feel very well that he had been aroused by the kiss. At some point, he breathed a kiss upon my ear and whispered softly into it, "There is so much more we could do… but I guess we'll have to wait until he sells you, hmm?"

I raised my head, looked at him and said with a lascivious smile, "Let's not rush anything, my lord! I'm sure he would be angry if we got any more… intimate." Oh yes, he should believe that I was as much into him as he was into me. It would make my life easier with him.

Ea'nash inhaled sharply, then kissed my palms and said, "Indeed. I will have to wait. Now, go, child, before I make a critical mistake!"

I had not to be told twice, got off of him, bid him farewell with a slight bow and exited the room.

I was utterly surprised and felt honoured as I met the guard on the corridor, who was to bring me back, for he was one of the Incubus-Hierarchs. Apparently, Vect wanted to be absolutely sure that I got back to him as a whole. I bowed slightly to the Incubus; he nodded shortly in return and donned a chain on my collar. Then he led me through the bastion, back to the Overlord's quarters, without saying a single word.

Whilst we were walking, I started wondering what could have moved Vect to have me brought back by an Incubus-Hierarch of his very own lifeguard. Was I that important to him? I sincerely doubted it, because I was nothing but a slave, as expendable as ever, therefore, I decided to go with the theory that he did it, on one hand, to make others believe that I was important to him, maybe having some idiots who wanted to threaten him show themselves by attacking me, on the other, I was sure he did it to lull me into a false sense of security. I was not so stupid as to believe I was something special to him. Asdrubael Vect had no things or people precious to him, only faint and expendable allies, since everything else was far too dangerous for him, for there would always be someone who got to know his weak spots and would use them against him. Without being utterly relentless it was impossible to rule Commorragh.

Tearing my thoughts away from the Overlord, I had to admit that Ea'nash still unsettled me more than Zuol. Feigning to play his game was a lot harder than enduring Zuol's harshness. It had been already clear to me that the former desired to have me, but today he had shown me how intensely he did, because I was sure that the only thing that had kept me from being raped back there was that I was the personal slave of the Overlord after all and as such it would have been a suicidal idea of Ea'nash to do so. I sincerely hoped that Vect never sold me to him, for I had a pretty good idea of what my life would look like if he ever did. Though Ea'nash was attractive, friendly with me and knew what he was doing, something about him disgusted me so much that I had a pretty hard time with returning his advances. Also, I was sure that if I ever got to be in bed with him, this would rather be fit for his pleasure, not mine.

I forced my mind into silence and concentrated on the things that were at hand. For now, I 'just' had to deal with the Supreme Overlord of Commorragh. Somehow, this was easier for me, god knows why.

In these moments we arrived at our destination, the Incubus-Hierarch led me through the torture chamber, took the chain off my collar and opened the door to the quarters. I bid him farewell with a bow and then went through the door, which he closed behind me.

As I entered the room I was greeted with a view I had not anticipated. My master lay on the bed, all limbs stretched widely from him and all he wore were some tight boxers. His eyes were closed and he did not react towards me in any way. Somehow this was a strange sight, to see him that casual and relaxed. In a way, it did not fit the picture of the relentless Supreme Overlord.

With care I came closer to the bed, not wanting to disrupt him in any way. Because he did not acknowledge my presence at all and I had shifted quite some time uneasily from one foot to the other, I carefully and softly said, "My lord, is there anything I can do for you?"

He opened his eyes, blinked a few times and then said, looking at me and smiling slightly, "Ah, child, it is good that you are here. I require a massage."

I nodded and replied, "Immediately, my lord. Just let me fetch the massage oil."

I let go of my obedient face as I entered the bathroom. After giving three massages today I was quite tired already and the prospect of again giving all my strength and concentration for a longer period of time was more than I could take. I also was starving. However, since complaining just brought the anger of my master down on me, I sighed heavily, took the warming massage oil out of the cupboard, took off my earrings, since they would just hinder me if he had me lie down beside him and went back to my master, not showing my indignation.

Vect had not moved one millimetre and did not so much as look at me. I climbed into the bed and asked, "I take it that you want a full body massage to relax your indubitably strained muscles?"

He opened his eyes again, looked at me, his gaze somewhat soft now, caressed my cheek and replied, "Yes, my child." Then, his eyes narrowed for a second and he added, "You are quite hungry, child, are you not?" I nodded truthfully. With this, and to my utter surprise, he patted my cheek and said, "Well, then! Have something to eat first! I do not want you to do this half-heartedly."

I was relieved. "Thank you, my lord."

My master smiled – seeing that this smile seemed to be honest unsettled me extremely – and he responded, "You have been a good girl, so there is no need to punish you unnecessarily." These were strange words indeed from a being of which it was said that it was one of the cruellest ever to walk the galaxy. Until now he had been nicer to me than Chu'uk, in any way. Then again, who would ever know if all of this was not some kind of twisted plan, whose trap would show itself to me when it was far too late?

I rid myself of this thought, obeyed him, went to the table and started eating with great pleasure. My body owed me the overdue nutrition with confidence and newfound strength. As I was done, I came back to my master. I said to him, whilst spreading the massage oil on my hands, "May I start with your back, my lord?"

"No, you can leave that, it is rather my arms and legs that need tending," he told me.

Therefore, I started with his legs. Whilst I massaged him, he asked, "So, child, tell me: has any of them done something particularly nasty to you?"

I shook my head and replied, "No, my lord, nothing out of the ordinary. Archon Zuol decided to poke me with a dagger while I tended to his needs and Archon Ea'nash… well."

"Well what?"

I hemmed and hawed shortly, then replied, "I guess if I hadn't been your personal slave, he would have raped me at the spot."

The Overlord let out a musing sound. "Hmm, this one seems to be particularly untamed. If he should ever try it, let me know. He has his limits and raping my personal slave oversteps them definitely. I will not have such a thing from one of my Archons."

"I guess his fear of you will always stop him. But I have to admit that I will enjoy reporting such a thing to you."

He chuckled lowly. "He really bothers you, hmm?" he asked me.

"More than the rest, yes, since I don't know what to expect from him. I also don't get why he is so into me. Because that he is, I know for sure, he didn't hide the fact," I said, somewhat bewildered.

"Ah, I see, doing our homework, are we? I take it that you talked to the other slaves?" Vect asked with a smile.

I snorted and responded, "I would be quite the idiot if I hadn't. Every ounce of knowledge I can get about your Circle I will take."

"And a wise decision this is. You will do fine in this new life, my child, yes, indeed finer than I have seen so far from most slaves. You played Vyras and Ea'nash nicely today. Keep this up; I am interested to see how you will do in those political nets around here."

I nodded and said, "I will, my lord and I have realised by now that I have to. I'll try and impress you further and I'm just glad that you feel that way, my lord."

Vect chuckled. "Looks and brains. Now I am impressed."

With an injured inflexion I gave back, "Now you are mocking me."

Again this evil chuckle, followed by the mandatory taunt, "Aw, do not take it so hard, child. As I said – you are doing well. And now I want you to concentrate."

This concluded the discussion. I obeyed, shut my mouth and concentrated on the massage. It took quite a while and a lot of my strength.

I was rewarded with a relished sigh of my master as I was done. Underlining his sigh, he said, "Ah, a well-educated slave is really a treat. I have to give my regards to Vlokarion; he has done a great job with you."

I froze. "The Vlokarion? It was he who had trained me?" I asked in disbelief. In an instant, another realisation hit me. "Isn't he supposed to be dead?"

My lord chuckled softly. "Now she even knows the names of Haemonculi," he said, somewhat lost in thought. Then he turned to me and replied, "Yes, there is only one in Commorragh, as far as I remember and he is very alive and well, despite what you think you know. And you, my little one, know more than is advisable for your own good."

Vlokarion was no less a figure than the only Haemonculus able to stand beside Urien Rakarth in his vile accomplishments. Urien Rakarth again was said to be the oldest, most ingenious and craziest Haemonculus of all of Commorragh, though it was an ever-lasting argument between scholars if Vlokarion was not older than Rakarth and who of them was the greater genius. I figured that Vlokarion's survival was a well-kept secret; otherwise Rakarth would not bear the title "Master Haemonculus" without any challenge. Possibly it was best like this for Vlokarion; like this, he could do his research in peace and silence and undoubtedly he shared his knowledge with the Overlord in return.

That Asdrubael Vect had managed to employ both for his causes, though Rakarth was known to do his own thing, proved once again how strong and sublime his resources were.

I shook my head in utter disbelief, still not quite grasping that I had somewhat befriended one of the best Haemonculi that had ever been. "It is astonishing how stable and rational he is, considering that he matches up with Rakarth in wits and age," I said, still taken aback.

Vect laughed, wholeheartedly. "Oh, he is the silent counter-balance to Urien, often enough tempering his madness. Otherwise, Urien would not be bearable and would wreck the very foundations of Commorragh with his experiments. I appreciate him, I truly do, but sometimes his thoughts are somewhat hard to follow." It had to be noted here that this was voiced by one of the greatest minds ever in Dark Eldar history.

"Nevertheless," he continued, stroking my hair softly and looking me deep in the eye, "I cannot stress enough how important it is that no one gets to know what an awful lot you know about our culture. Some might witness you as too big a threat to be left alive. I, on the other hand, find it enticing. Never mind that now, child, come here! You need to sleep; I can see that you are tired."

My master was absolutely right with that; I was truly tired. I was relieved as he took off my collar, then I obeyed him and laid my head upon his right shoulder. He laid his arm around me and started caressing my side and I shivered, because I still had to get used to the gentleness he could show if he wanted to. After wishing him a good night, I closed my eyes and this time it did not take long for me to fall asleep, while still lying on his shoulder.