

Bound

## Secrets, Choices, and Redemption Series

### Novella

Second in Series

Shannon Peel

Copyright 2016

Available in electronic form

The March 2016 Edition

Bound. The second novella in the Secrets, Choices, and Redemption series is the sole property of its author and cannot in any way be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including recording, photocopied, or any information storage and retrieval system. It may not be used without the express permission of the author. Requests can be sent to shannonpeel01@gmail.com

# Logan

'Not again.'

Frustration fills every inch of my body, my nerves are on edge and my patience is running short. A throbbing pain where my neck meets the back of my head is getting stronger by the minute. I lean against the tapestry hanging on the wall of the sitting room, close my eyes, tip my head back against the hard stonewall, and breath deep. I try to think of something else, anything else, except their shrill voices piercing my consciousness, bringing my attention back into the room. The war between two very stubborn combatants has been raging since we arrived from Perns, a week ago. Women. They are nothing but a pain and I'm up to my neck in them.

"Logan. Tell her the new rug I brought from Perns is much more tasteful then this old thing." I pretend I don't hear her. "Logan. Logan. Answer me. Tell her." Why did I take this contract? Oh yeah, the money. Triple the money. It isn't enough. "I have exquisite taste and I see the best decor at the Court in Perns, unlike others who sequester themselves into old bare churches."

"Well, we'll just see what my father has to say about it." Margaret runs from the room.

"Why do you provoke her Aleesa?"

"I am the lady of the estate now, and she needs to know that."

"It was her late mother's sitting room. You of all people should understand how it feels to see a mother's memory wiped away." I feel for the Della Terra girl. It can't be easy having Aleesa as a stepmother.

"I don't care. It's my sitting room and she'll just have to adjust, like I did."

"It's not the same thing and you know it. You didn't end up with a new stepmother."

"Come move this chaise over to the window. I want to enjoy the view of the gardens from here, while I read."

I shake my head. There is no use pushing the issue because the only thing that matters to Aleesa, is Aleesa. My muscles strain, as I carry the rose patterned seat over to the large picture window. It's only the fourth time I've moved it in the last hour.

"Aleesa, how is your room coming together?"

The elderly Count Della Terra's head pops through the door, looking around the room. He steps inside and brings himself up to his full height of five foot nine. His eyes dart from corner to corner, refusing to look at anyone in particular. He looks a little scared of stepping on something breakable, probably all the broken glass surrounding Aleesa.

"It's a big job, I still have pieces in the wagons to bring in. Logan would you be a dear?" I start to leave the room, when the Count puts a hand out to stop me.

"I need to borrow Logan for the afternoon. I'll send a couple house slaves to help you."

She starts to pout, then, her perfect pink bottom lip transforms to a sly smile. She pulls on a blonde curl hanging down at her neck and her light blue puppy dog eyes closed halfway, giving her the appearance of the cat that had just swallowed the canary.

"Send Joe and the other one. What's his name? The one always with Joe."

"John. Logan, if you'd please." The Count leads me outside to his own sanctuary - the barns. "I thought you might want a break from redecorating my home."

"Thank you My Lord."

"Harold. How many times must I tell you to call me Harold? I hate all that titles nonsense."

"Yes My – I mean Harold."

It is a gorgeous day. I breathe deep, stretching myself up to my full six foot seven height, loosening my tight muscles, thankful for the chance to be outside.

"My late wife used to have me moving pieces around all the time. Margaret does not remember that though. Nothing has been moved since her mother died..." A sadness falls over the Count's country gentleman features, before he quickly regains his composure. "She isn't handling my new marriage well, I'm afraid. I have spoiled her."

Spoiled? Not sure if I'd call her spoiled. I find Margaret to be confrontational, rude, and unsophisticated, not spoiled. She wouldn't win any points at court, considering she was isolated in the country and never introduced into polite society. The girl doesn't have the skills to manage her emotions and that's why Aleesa is having so much fun needling her. Aleesa is a lioness when it comes to the games women of court play and this girl of the Count's, is a Church mouse.

"Aleesa is safe here in my home for the next month or so." A month? I nearly trip. "As you know my daughter and my new wife do not see eye to eye" The Count picks at a loose thread on his jacket. "It is probably time for Margaret to return to her place at the Church and I would like you to escort her to Analeesia."

"When will she be ready to leave?" Today? Tomorrow? Yesterday? I wish. It'll take her a week, at the least, to get everything together and pack. Still, in a week I'll be on the road through the mountains and I'll get to ride back, alone. Alone. The silence will be wonderful.

"The sooner the better for my nerves. I'm sure she'll be ready by tomorrow, unlike my wife, my daughter has few possessions to pack."

"I'll be ready."

I spend the rest of the day enjoying the horses, relaxed by the work. My headache is gone. My blood's pumping and my muscles are sore, a good sore, a soreness that reminds me I am a man. I push my dark thick brown hair out of my eyes to wipe the sweat from my forehead. This is the life. The old guy might be on to something, living out here on his own, far away from the games of court.

Maybe it's time for a career change.

# Raif

As we approached the Seki Mountains, the forest rises up on either side of dirt track these primitives call a road. The tall pines are so plentiful there is barely a tree width between the tall straight trunks and the top branches intertwine to create a thick green barrier to block the sunlight. Beyond the edges of the forest, it is dark and foreboding

Most of the slaves have never seen the forests or mountains and I am using that to my advantage. As we walk, the guards are telling the High Flatlanders stories about dangerous beasts, monsters, and spirits, who live in the dark depths of the forest. Stories so scary, screams ring out in the dark when nightmares visit their slumber.

Fear is the best tool I have to keep the captives from fleeing, fear of me, fear of the unknown, and fear of monsters that aren't real. Fear is better, and cheaper, then any number of guards, to keep the slaves from running.

The mountain pass narrows where the river falls into a deep canyon. This is my favourite part of the whole trip. The landscape here is mind blowing. The power of the river, as it cascades over the edge down into the canyon, running rapid down the valley, beacons to my soul. What would it be like to ride that white water, to conquer the river's dangers? It would be a victory like no other. One of songs and stories. Maybe one day, when I no longer care if I live or die. Right now, I am content with watching the water pass, listening to it thunder by, and to live another day.

The trail is carved into the cliff, going down to an alpine field surrounded by rock walls, formed by a river eddy, long since gone. The narrow canyon slows our progress, because the slaves are terrified of the long drop below into the raging river. Some will not move. I anticipated this. Planned for the delay. The guards know how to move them along, like cattle to the slaughterhouse. Prodding, poking, and pulling at them.

They move at a snails pace, pressed against the rock wall scared to open their eyes, all but Mary. She is standing on the edge of the narrow shelf scanning the canyon, taking in its beauty. She is fearless. She does not cling to the wall face with her eyes closed. She stands on the edge in awe of what she sees. I wish I could see it like she does, for the first time, amazed by what the gods created.

She is a rare treasure. And you are the monster who is going to break her. Ah, here is my friend, guilt, whispering to me, wrapping around my heart and making its way into my soul. I turn away, moving toward the field, leaving her to experience it alone, if only things were different.

# Mary

We walked into a crack in the mountain wall, with rocks rising high above us on both sides, closing around us, trapping us inside the mountain forever. The clouds kiss the snow-covered peaks above our heads. On either side of us are high walls of green, tipped with white and brown craggy teeth. There is no way out. I can't see what is before us, behind us, or on either side of us. Many of my people are begging to go back, back to where the earth doesn't open its jaws to eat you, back to where the land is flat, back to the open sky.

It is awe-inspiring. It is scary. It is nothing I'd ever imagined. I can see the whole valley winding out in front of us, the river flowing far below. I want to see it all. I stand at the very edge, taking in all the splendour. The sun's rays break through the clouds in pillars of diffused light, the fingers of the gods touching the earth and I bow my head in respect for their creations.

I pray to the gods, asking each of them to watch over us, to take care of Dre and keep her safe. I pray that one day soon, I will see my baby girl again and kill the man who took her from me.

I will kill him. The anger simmers below the surface, as I wait for my chance to take my revenge.

# Logan

"What do you mean, you're leaving me here. Alone with him?"

"He's your husband, Aleesa."

"My father is paying you, not the Count. I'm paying you. You're mine."

"I'm not yours, Aleesa. Look, it's just a couple of weeks. It'll get her out of your hair and you can decorate the whole Estate while I'm gone."

"Logan. I forbid you to leave."

I cock an eyebrow at her. Forbid. Well isn't that a loaded word. The insult of it irks me and bites at my ego. Forbid. She has the audacity to forbid me? I really don't get paid enough to put up with her. She's the one who wanted me, not the other way around. It's time I reminded her of that.

"OK. I quit."

"What? You can't quit. You are my sell sword."

"Well. I just quit."

"You can't. I need you."

"I can and I did."

She stands there with her mouth open, her face red, and her hands on her hips. She is like a child about to have a tantrum. I smile at her. Waiting. I am about to say something else, when she crosses her arms on her chest, pouts, and bows her head slightly. I've won.

"OK. You can go. Just don't quit."

"There, that wasn't so hard now was it? I'll be back before you know it."

"What am I going to do here? Without you?"

"Bored, already Aleesa? Decorate. Boss some slaves around. Get to know your husband. Get pregnant, that'll make your father happy."

"Don't even. If I end up pregnant, kill me."

"That's a bit drastic. I thought the whole idea of marriage was to have an heir."

She glares at me, then walks away in a huff of lavender satin and powders. She'll do her duty. She always does.

"I'll be here for a while yet. It'll be a week at least before she's packed and ready to go." I yell after her, laughing.

Not sure why I get such a kick out of making Aleesa angry. It's not like it makes my life any easier. If anything, it makes it harder. When she's ticked off and out for vengeance, she can be ruthless.

Got to get my fun where I can, I guess.

"Sir."

Still laughing, I turn to the sound of the voice.

"Yes."

"The Master wants to see you."

"Where is he?"

"In the barns, Sir."

Of course he is. I don't think the man ever leaves those blasted horses of his. Aleesa will never get pregnant if he doesn't come into the house. Wonder if he's into horses for a sexual reason. My skin begins to crawl, as the image comes into my mind of the old guy trying to get it on with a horse. Let's just say, I don't want to know.

I breathe in the fresh air on my way to the barns. It's nice here with the mountains rising up from the flat farmland with the Eladonia River flowing quietly through it, slow and peaceful. Every day is filled with honest manual labour to build something and be proud of one's progress at the end of the day. The old guy has made a good life for himself. Maybe I could make a good life here.

"Count Della Terra. You wanted to see me?"

"Logan. How many times am I going to have to tell you to call me Harold?"

"Feels weird."

He laughs. "Yes, I'm sure it does. Still."

"Harold, you wanted to see me?"

"See how hard was that man?"

I shrug.

Not only is it customary for an untitled man, such as myself, to address a titled one formally, it is rude and dangerous not to. I can't imagine using familiar names of any of the titled men at court. Not even the lowly Barons and Baronets.

"My daughter is ready to leave. I've asked the groom to get the horses ready."

"What? Already? But you just told me that she was going yesterday."

"Yes and that she'd be ready by today."

"I didn't see any wagons being loaded."

"She does not need a wagon. I've given her money to buy what supplies you need in Terra. It shouldn't be much."

I don't understand. It doesn't make sense that she would be ready so quickly. I'm not.

"I got to go pack then."

"You better hurry. My daughter does not like to wait and she will leave without you. I do not want her travelling alone. Pack light. She will buy whatever you need."

I race back to the Estate to pack. Aleesa won't be happy to know I'm leaving right now. I wonder if she'll try to forbid me again.

# Raif

Rosa is distracting me with her beauty. My eyes keep glancing at her breasts pushed up, threatening to spill out of her dress. I trace them with my finger, intoxicated by her. It's hard to keep my mind on business, with her sitting beside me.

"I need groomsmen, maids and a server trained to my father's specifications." I tell Sero. "The groomsmen will need to track, help with the hunt parties, and drive a carriage. Good hearing and memory is vital. They must be able to look as though they do not understand what is being said around them, and yet, remember everything that was said."

"I 'ave some groom slaves that are hunters for the tribe. I'll test their tracking skills an' we'll have fresh meat fer dinner." Sero smiles and my skin crawls "I love a good hunt."

"We need maids who can clean a room and put things back exactly where they found them. They'll need to be taught to read and remember what they read."

"I'll get Ms. MacDonald to test the young ladies."

"Go talk with her, test as many as you can and report back to me tomorrow. That should be good for now."

"Yes sir, Rosa me love."

I do not like the smile he gives her, nor the swagger, as he walks out of my tent. He is far too confident.

"And the special slave your father wants?" Rosa says.

"I was hoping it would be Mary, she has too much pride. She is smart enough, observant enough, and articulate enough, but she stands out too much, looks people in the eye and speaks her mind. She just isn't right." I run my fingers through my thick hair in frustration. I want to be fucking Rosa, not thinking about business. "I need to find someone who blends in better. Who can be invisible."

"She seems very complacent, she served us well tonight. She did exactly as you asked."

"As a server, she is well prepared. I am sure I will find her a suitable placement in a lower noble home or a merchant's. For what my father wants, that placement is too important and he needs a very specific type of slave, one who will serve without hesitation, without notice. Who has no pride, wants nothing for herself and is intelligent."

"In the pleasure houses, when one of the students was too rebellious there was a specific type of education they were given."

"Emm" I nestle my nose into her hair. I love the way her hair smells. I'm not really listening to her. I'm enjoying her.

"Your father wants someone."

"My father wants a lot of things." I nibble on her ear.

"Well, wouldn't an intelligent, intuitive, serving girl, trained to be compliant in her work and trained in the pleasures of the bed be perfect?"

"My father would be very happy. I can take one of the whorehouse slaves or breeding slaves and train them to serve."

"Why not Mary?"

"I already told you, she isn't compliant enough. She has too much pride. Too much confidence. She serves a meal well enough. What I need is someone who oozes servitude, who thinks not for themselves, but only for those she serves and has a need to serve others." Mary is a special kind of woman, one full of pride, fight, and life, a woman who deserves to be a Chieftan's wife, a queen, a noblewoman. I am the monster who has taken her from the role she deserves and I must give her the best in return.

"We could break her the way brothels break the most headstrong."

A very appealing image of fucking Mary forms in my mind. I've been fantasizing about taking her since I first saw her biting that guard's ear. Still, she deserves better.

"I don't think so." I say.

"She's smart. Intuitive. Teachable. Quick. Healthy. And fetching, in her own way."

"Yes. She has a lot of what my father asked for, but she's too wilful, rebellious, and proud to fill the role. He'll have to wait 'til I find someone perfect."

If I fill the order my father has been waiting for, will he let me come home? Will filling this one longstanding order be enough to please him?

"He's been waiting years for you to find the right one. He is getting impatient. She is the closest you've ever come across. The brothels break difficult slaves because it teaches them their place and how to accept it. It teaches them how to serve the men and not want or demand anything in return. I've seen it work. She will benefit from it. She will thank you."

How is Mary going to survive? It's only a matter of time before she runs, fights, or rebels. Breaking her this way will kill her pride, her hope, her self-confidence. I've met enough whores to know that their training kills something inside them, makes them not care about their own lives. I've broken something in Mary once already, she isn't the same fighter she was when she bit the guard's ear. That woman was formidable and sexy as hell.

"I can teach her to be compliant. To be subservient. I can make her into what your father wants. She will be all the better for it, trust me."

The idea of her naked body pleasuring me is forming a tempting visual in my mind. I close my eyes, as Rosa's hands play with my body, imaging its Mary instead. I allow my mind to wonder, fantasizing about all the things I'd love to do with Mary. Lust flares up. A hand is on my cock, playing with it, teasing it, promising it such pleasure. Mary's hand.

"What do you think your father will do when he sees her? He will break her using cruelty and torture. You know that. He will make her what he wants. She is what he wants, anyone can see that just by looking at her. She is perfect or she will be once I have trained her and she has brought you pleasure."

Decision made.

"My father will be very happy. You are right, if he breaks her she may just shatter. We can transform her into a slave who is invisible, observant, knows what others need before they know they need it, and smart enough to teach her the other skills. Along with a healthy dose of fear, to ensure she is complacent and scared enough to do my father's bidding."

"Mary can fill that role. Trust me. I will break her. I will remould her. She will bring you both great pleasure and your father's gratitude."

Rosa kisses me deeply, her tongue licking my mouth, exploring, tasting me. Sending blood rushing down my body to fill my cock. She slips gracefully off my lap and stands in front of me. I stand up, follow her into the back room, where my bed awaits us.

Her dress seems to flow off her body, as she walks. One minute it's on, the next she's naked on the bed, waiting for me to join her, in more ways then one. I am not as graceful, as I remove my clothes. I am too rushed, too impatient, too clumsy. After I struggle out of the last article of clothing, I stand before her, my body hard, my cock standing straight, pulling at me like a dog on leash running after a bitch in heat.

She reaches up, grabs my hand and pulls me down to her. Her hands stroke my back lightly, setting off sparks of energy. Her mouth finds mine and she tastes like stew and ale. Spreading her legs, she whispers in my ear, "Fuck me hard." Oh yes, quick and hard, just what my cock is demanding. I slip deep inside her, she is hot, wet, and feels like velvet. I hammer into her, her wetness slips around me, making each stroke more pleasant then the last. My cockhead feels the end of her vagina, it kisses me, and she screams out. My passion builds in intensity. My body fills with the pressure of desire. My mind is focused only on my cock. I need to come. I'm rock hard. I need to release, desperately. FUCK. I hammer into her harder. The pressure of my desire is so close to the edge. I need to come. I grab her nipple, pinch it, twist it, as hard as I can, she screams in pain and my whole body goes rigged while the waves of my orgasm take me, forcing my seed deep into her.

# Drela

Basha, Sanchie and I are awake in the corral, while everyone else is asleep, or at least trying to sleep. Anxiety has its grip on my heart and I cannot ease it. I have to do something. The fact that I am helpless to help my people, helpless to save my baby girl, helpless to keep my son safe, eats at my soul.

I can't sit still.

I can't eat.

I can't sleep.

I can't let Josiah be sold into slavery.

Brathoid's son deserves a better life than that of a slave. I've already lost our daughter to the churchmen. Raif ripped her from me without giving me a chance to save her. She is gone. I will never see her again. My throat burns at the thought of her. My nose burns. My eyes burn. I do my best to swallow it down, to not cry, to hold onto the pain.

I can't save Dre.

I can save Josia.

"Basha we time enough to save a few?" I ask.

"Ya, Sanchie an I take a couple men an women with some of da children. 'bout 10 ta start, see if missed."

"Choose strongest from those labelled field worker, the ones not chained, they aren't being trained by the raiders. Their disappearance won't be noticed right away. How many do you think can hide?"

"We may get chance as we go down to Lowland. Couple of good spots ta hide. It gettin da right people ta get kids atta 'ere and home. Only a few know way."

"You an Sanchie need go to last. You can pick up lost ones along the way home".

"Last chance be jus before Lowlands, 'en we can make way back. Maybe ta Stoney Town in the High Flatlands."

"Basha, Josia must disappear, before we leave here."

"You go with Josia?"

"No, Raif will notice if I'm gone. Start with those he not see, first. Make sure the adults are hunters and gatherers. Ya can guide them home."

"Ok Chiefta. Me an Sanchie do good job ya see."

"I know."

I look at these two men and all my hope on their small shoulders. They are not warriors, they are not hunters, they are the smallest of our tribe. I cringe. Can they do what needs to be done? Am I crazy? I should be conspiring with the strongest of the tribe, not the weakest. I shutter. I have no other options. The strongest are chained or are valued too highly to escape notice. Only the weakest have the chance to escape. I hope this plan will work. It has to work. I need to save at least a few of my people.

"Find the youngest boys and girls who are going to the pleasure houses."

"Dey be noticed." Sanchie said.

"The older ones will. Not the youngest ones. The youngest ones are too young for Rosa to train."

Raif is smart. If this is going to work they can't know any are missing, until it's too late. The longer it takes them to catch on, the more we can save. I can't save the strongest, the prettiest, or myself. Raif spends a good deal of his own time training us, prepping us for market, as if we are animals.

"We need to talk to parents. Explain it to them. Make sure they don't say anything. Important they understand. We can't have them freaking out, once their kid disappears."

"OK."

"They need understand, how important it is. They can't tell anyone."

"Yes Chiefta."

We need to keep the others in the dark. One comment, one slip of the tongue, and they will demand to go too, some may even alert the guards. We can't save them all. We can save a few of the children, and, we will save Josia. That has to be enough, although, it doesn't feel like it.

# Logan

When I enter the stable, I notice the groom is saddling a gorgeous quality mare. I'm sure the Count means well, however, I'd prefer to ride my own horse, so I ask the groom to make the switch.

"Your horse is saddled and ready to go in the stall there. This one is Miss Margaret's."

"She's riding? She should be riding in a wagon, with a slave to drive the team."

"She will not ride in a wagon, Sir. She only travels by horse."

I don't feel right about her travelling on horseback, it's dangerous and not proper. I guess, since we are going to Analeesia, not Perns, and no one will see her, it won't matter, still, I fear she'll complain about riding the whole way, about how sore she is, and if she falls she'll get hurt, then I'll have to figure out how to fit her into the wagon. Just like a woman, to do things wrong and make more work for me.

I notice the saddle the groom is affixing to the animal and it's the wrong kind, it's one a man would use, not a woman, especially not a noblewoman.

"That's the wrong kind of saddle. A woman rides side saddle, not astride."

"Miss Margaret rides with this saddle. She will not ride with any other."

"That's not right. Women of polite society don't ride astride."

"Miss Margaret does."

The girl is even wilder than I'd thought. The Count has done his daughter a disservice, by allowing her to do whatever she wants. Maybe that's why he gave her to the church. He realized she would never make a proper Lady at court, or a good wife for a nobleman. I guess it was easier to give her away, than train her properly, what a waste of a noble daughter's potential. The man could have made a profitable alliance with her.

I check my horse's tackle. The groom did a good job.

"Mr. Reachie. Are you ready to go?"

"Yes, Miss Margaret."

I turn to see a young woman, her long curly brown hair hastily braided down her back, leaving curly tendrils around her small round face, wearing riding pants and not a travelling dress - Shocking and inappropriate. I bite my tongue. It's not my business.

She is a pretty enough girl, even if she doesn't know how to dress like a proper noblewoman should. I remind myself that we are headed for the mountain pass, not court, and curb my instinct to tell her to go in and change. If the Count lets his daughter dress like a man, who am I to say differently? Still, I wish she'd wear something less revealing. The pants show every curve of her ass and legs, not appropriate at all.

"Should I go and tell the slaves to hurry with your luggage?" I ask.

"All I have is this one pack, thank you." She is annoyed. "I am in a hurry to leave."

# Drela

I stand barefoot in a field surrounded by high smooth rock, I feel like we are at the bottom of a big hole. Like the bucket Josia used to fill with bugs to watch, this hole is a bucket for the gods to watch us. A small forest runs along one side of the hole where the sun's rays are caught for the longest time and cool moss grows in the shadows where the sun's rays never seem to find their way to.

The air here is different, lighter, colder, fresher. The green grass is cool and crisp to the touch. The flowers are small bright brush strokes of deep vibrant colours against the green.

It's beautiful.

"Ma ma 'ere I picked dem for ya." Josia looks up at me, his face full of pride, and in his hand is a pretty bouquet of the unusual bright flowers.

"Dank ya sweetheart, dey are pretty."

Filling with a warm happiness, I bend down to hug my son. He is all I have left. My pride. My joy. My love.

"Do ya like all de flowers 'ere?" He asks.

"Ya, der are a lot of them. It so beautiful here, I want ta stay here forever." I kiss his soft cheek bringing him closer into me. "I love ya so much, Josia."

"I love ya too."

We walk around the field holding hands, chasing each other, and playing games. Since being taken, this is the most freedom we've had. The raiders block the roads and that is all. We are free to roam here. Well, most of us are. Our strongest warriors are chained together and guarded constantly. The thought of those poor men gnaws at me.

The sun is beginning to set. We need to go back to the camp and Raif, my stomach cramps at the thought. However, if he sends someone to find us after the sun has gone down, it will be the whip for both of us. No one is going to be whipping my boy, Brathoid's boy. As we get closer to the tents, I begin to feel trapped again.

"Josia, I sorry that I canna protect you from this. I love ya, no matter wha happens, ya know that I love ya ok?"

"Ya ma"

"Let a try to remember dis time forever ok? Ya an me an a field of flowers."

"Ok. Ya an me and flowers." Josia closes his little eyes. "Picture in ma head now ma."

"Good Josia good." I smile down at him.

Today and every day we have left together, I will tell him the stories about us in the flowers. I crush the bouquet of flowers to my heart, desperately trying to hold back the tears.

We are close to the tents. I can smell the food, hear voices and see the guards. I grip Josia's hand tight and bring him very close to me. They can't have him. He is still mine.

"Mary, Raif's been lookin for ya. Better hurry fore he gets really mad."

I turn to see Sero, with a smirk on his dirty rat face. I hate this man. I will avenge Brathoid's murder. I will. I promise I will.

"I go see 'em now."

"Leave da boy."

"No wi ya" I put a protective arm around Josia and quickly walk to Raif's tent seeking safety for my boy. "Josia, Basha over der, do ya see 'em?"

"Ya ma"

"I wan ya to run to him yellin 'is name da whole way, so he see ya, ok?" Josia nods. I lean down to talk to him as softly as possible. "Basha and Sanchie will protect ya. Ya do wha dey say. If dey has ta dey gonna hide ya and take ya sum place safe. I love ya, listen to Basha and Sanchie." I hug him tight, kiss his cheek, and send him on his way.

I face the tent and close my eyes, breathing very deeply.

Time for Drela to go deep down inside, to where no one can touch her, to where she is safe, along with Brathoid's memory. I shut out the sounds around me. I breathe. I focus and think about Brathoid's murder, picturing the sword taking his head off his body. I feel the pain afresh. I breathe deep and picture my people walking far away from their homes, made to work, given labels on collars around their necks. I feel the humiliation. I picture the men who were whipped, I feel every lash I'd received, taste the gag in my mouth.

Finally, I remember the men who took my baby girl away. I let all the pain wash over me, bubbling up from inside. I use it to push Drela into a box, and become Mary.

Mary steps into the tent, past some guards, "you called for me sir."

# Raif

"Mary, I want you to talk to your people for me. We are going to stop here to rest and train, before we arrive at the Lowland markets. Do you remember our conversation about choices?"

My tone is formal, like how the Perns' nobility talk. She must be able to grasp exactly what is meant, even if she doesn't always understand what the words mean. I cannot have her sounding like a High Flatlander, she must sound like a slave of Perns nobility.

"Yes sir, I do. I understand your meaning and will convey your wish for them to work hard, so that you can find them suitable places."

She is catching on. She is smart enough to train and she is being compliant, that is good. Maybe this will work. Maybe, she will be what I need her to be. Maybe, just maybe, she can be broken, without shattering. The wildest of horses are the hardest to tame and it is a sad thing to see one that has been shattered, cowering from its master instead of working with him. I do not want her to become a cowering dog. If she shatters she will be useless.

"I am pleasantly surprised with your progress so far. You have come much further then I ever expected. I have decided to add an option to enhance your value, and therefore your station. Let us go see Rosa, she is waiting for us." I lead her into the back room where Rosa is waiting to take over.

"Rosa are you ready for us?"

"Yes."

"Great, well I'll leave you girls to talk. See you soon Mary."

I take her hand and kiss it. I am going to enjoy this, more then I should. I move to the other side of the tent's wall, where my guards are waiting, so, I can still hear everything without interfering.

"Mary, please come and sit beside me, we have lots to talk about."

"Rosa, if I may be so bold as to ask, what is going on?"

"Mary you make the perfect serving girl. You fill the glasses and serve food so smoothly, one would think it was magic. You have learned about wines, food, and edict. There is one option, which if you possess it, will increase your value. You know that I am a bed slave."

"Yes."

"There are certain roles you could fill, which I will teach you."

"Raif said, I am not pretty enough to fetch him the best profit from the whorehouses and my training as a server would be wasted, would it not?"

"You are right, you are not destined for the whorehouse. Many nobles must entertain and keep their guests happy. We are going to train you for the after hours entertainment of guests. A noble may have a bed slave or two for their own enjoyment, but they wouldn't keep enough to meet the needs of guests, so, he looks to his servants and slaves to fill this temporary need. It does not matter to him if they are pretty, young or a virgin, unless he is trying to impress someone powerful. You, my dear, will be trained on the art of pleasing a man."

"Why would I want to be trained to do that? I pleasured my husband often enough to know how to do the deed, if need be."

"Yes, but do you know how to take direction without hesitation? I will help to fine tune your bed skills. Now stand and strip for me."

"What, I do not think --" I hear Rosa's hand slap Mary across the face and then a whip crack in the air.

"Do not question me, do not talk unless spoken to, do you understand?"

"This is cra--" Another slap across the face, the crack of the whip, Mary screams, and my desire rises. Yes, I'm going to enjoy this.

"I could do this all night. Your choice."

"This isn't right --" The whip cracks and this time, I hear it connect with skin.

"I told you, do not speak unless given permission to do so, when you respond to a command you will say, yes Sir. Do you understand?"

"Yes Sir."

Rosa knows what she's doing and it sounds like she is enjoying herself. Well, I want to enjoy myself too. I signal for my guards to follow me into the back room.

"How is it going so far?"

"She's had a slow start. Still, I think she'll get the hang of it." Rosa touches the insides of Mary's legs, suggesting she open her stance. Mary doesn't move. Rosa slaps her and pushes her legs apart enough that her fingers find the opening to her vagina. She frowns. "She is not enjoying this attention, yet."

"Shall we remedy that? Rosa if you please."

Rosa's wrap falls to the ground, as she rises and stands naked in front of Mary. Slowly, Rosa strokes Mary's breast and Mary steps back, shock on her face. I grab a large wooden spoon, which Rosa's left on the bed, along with other tools of her trade, and smack Mary's ass. The sound of it excites me. "Again, she forgot to say thank you." Rosa says.

I spank Mary's ass hard and she cries out in the pain.

"Say, thank you Sir." Rosa says.

"Thank you, Sir." Mary's voice is weak and trembling.

"That's better, you will get the hang of it. Rosa carry on." I say.

Rosa strokes her breasts, pinches her nipples and then slips her fingers between Mary's legs again. Mary jumps back covering herself and gets a smack on the ass.

"Stand there and spread your legs. Further. More, that's it"

I demand of her, in as commanding and cold of a voice, as I can muster. This is fun. Rosa crouches down and starts to lick the slave's clit and Mary's eyes dart around at the men in the room, horrified. We are watching her, our eyes huge and full of lust. She is red with the embarrassment and humiliation. This is how you break a woman's pride.

Rosa's an expert when it comes to sex. Her tongue can do things that can melt the glaciers above. I should know, she's uses her tongue on me every day. Soon, Mary's look of humiliation is replaced with a pure physical passion. She cannot get enough of Rosa's tongue and her hips began to move on their own, desperate for more. I lightly touch her ass, as it moves to Rosa's tongue.

Rosa slowly stands up tasting Mary's body. She kisses her hard and Mary kisses her back, with a frantic need.

"Raif, I think she's ready."

"Ok men, thank you for helping with the training. Go find your bed slaves and enjoy yourselves this afternoon."

To ensure my men keep their hands off the merchandise, I have a number of whore slaves to service their needs. After watching that erotic display, these men will be busy with the whores for a while. I adjust myself in my pants.

Rosa has tied Mary onto the bed to ensure she's on all fours, naked, her ass held high in the air. Every time Mary rebels, pulls away, fights back, Rosa slaps her, whips her, and uses her tongue to pleasure her, I watch.

"Raif."

She hands me a horsewhip and I spank Mary's ass, until it's red and hot to the touch, while Rosa's tongue and hands give her pleasure. Mary has to enjoy it. She has to know that she didn't fight back, the whole time and she participated. Without that, there will not be the necessary compliance. She has to be trained like a dog, rewarded and punished.

"Rosa lie down and spread your legs. Mary, lick her cunt and make sure she enjoys it. Keep your ass up."

At first Mary pulls back, fights the idea, struggles. Whenever she thinks of only her comfort, her wants, or her needs, I bring the horsewhip down hard onto her backside and she screams out in pain. My desire builds with every scream.

I play with her pleasure button. I use the tools Rosa has provided to penetrate her, build her desire, and bring her to climax. I don't stop. I slap her. I hurt her. I pleasure her. I watch Rosa's face as I do. If Rosa's face shows desire, I reward Mary with desire. If Rosa's face shows nothing, I hit Mary with the spoon or whip.

Finally, Mary relents and is doing everything right, no rebelling, no fighting. I watch Rosa, her face full of desire, her eyes full of need, her mouth forms the silent word 'now' and I stand up to free my hard cock. I position myself just right and plunged my hardness deep inside Mary, from behind. I nearly come right then, it feels so good. Once I'm deep inside her, Mary stops pleasuring Rosa and tries to pull herself away. I grab her hair, shoving her face back into Rosa's pussy, while I go deeper.

"Did I tell you could stop, bitch?" I say.

She starts eating pussy again and keeps it up, until Rosa screams out, and I can see that she's coming. I pick up speed, placing my hands on Mary's hips, and pound harder into her. I slap her ass. Nothing. I pull her hair hard, she screams out in pain and I find release.

I lie down beside Rosa, enjoying the after effects of my orgasm.

"Now clean us up Mary, water and clothes are there, bathe us." Rosa says.

We lay there, Rosa and I, gently stroking each other. I kiss the top of her head and quietly whisper in her ear,

"Thank you, that was amazing. You are so beautiful and I love you so much. Thank you my darling."

While we stroked each other, Mary washes our bodies and the touch of the sponge brings my desire back. This time I only want Rosa, I want only - love. Rosa, like always, reads my mind and turns to Mary,

"Mary, your training will continue everyday. You will be taught technique and how to obey orders, without a thought of yourself. You will also be taught to pleasure yourself because most times, in the future, you will not receive release any other way. Do you have any questions?"

"No sir."

I smile, "good now get dressed and leave us, I want to make love to my bed slave, alone."

Mary leaves very quickly.

I roll over to Rosa and kiss her. My lips touch her forehead, her eyes, her nose, her cheeks, her chin, and her neck. She is beautiful. Soft. Radiant. My whole body fills with warmth, at the sight of her like this. I gently hold her in my arms. She fits perfectly in them. I close my eyes, as I kiss her again. Her lips touching mine, building a passion deep inside, one that burns hot with need. A strong feeling pulls me closer to her, wanting to join her to me forever.

I move down her body giving extra attention to her perky pink breasts. I suckle on them, raising the nipple into my mouth and flick it with my tongue. I love the feeling of her breast in my mouth. It is comfortable. Her hands cradle my head and I am in heaven. My tongue teases her nipple and I nibble at it with my teeth. Her body reacts and moves, letting me know it makes her feel good. Happiness fills me, knowing I am making her feel this way. I move to the other breast and repeat the performance, focused on giving her pleasure, enjoying her body, loving how it responds to my touch.

My tongue tickles her abdomen, her sides, as I enjoy my way down to her inner thighs and finally, her sweet spot. I taste her essence, she is delicious, and I focus on her pleasure button. Teasing it with my tongue, my teeth, sucking it, rolling it in my mouth. She moans. Lust shoots through me at the sound of her moan. I want her to feel pleasure, to want me, to desire my touch, to need me, to be desperate for me. I push my tongue into her to taste her and with rapid movements I lick at her clit. Nip it. Play with it. She comes in my mouth. I smile. I am filled with satisfaction.

I move back up her body, until my cock kisses her opening, then I slowly push myself into her. I am desperate with need. My loins are pulsing with ache and demanding I move faster, harder, but I hold myself back. Slow. I want this to last. I want to be joined to her forever. I look deep in her eyes and find myself in them. I see her lust, her desire, her need, and I want to fulfill that need. Be the one who gives her, everything.

Her legs wrap around me, bringing me in deeper, where it's wetter, hotter, and softer. She has swelled tightly wrapping around my cock and I am finding it hard to wait for her. I do. I stop. I feel her wetness. Pulsating around me. I sit, wait, then, I move the way I know she likes me to, so her pleaser spots are getting the attention they deserve. I move, until I can feel her coming, tightening on me, releasing her juices and I release letting the wave of pleasure crash over me, until I'm emptied.

I lie beside her, curl up, hold her close to me, and let the darkness of sleep take me.

# Logan

We ride in silence, as the sun warms the morning air. I relax in my saddle enjoying the quiet stillness around us. Silence is very hard to come by in my line of work. Women, in my experience, are incapable of such a luxury, however, this slip of a girl has been silent. She probably hates me because I am Aleesa's puppet. Can't blame her really. Still, it bothers me that she would judge me and give me the silent treatment, for no reason beyond my employment situation. Says a lot about this girl.

"Mr. Reachie. I have business to attend to in Terra, it will take a few days to complete. I expect that you will not tell my father." And there goes the silence, oh well, it had to come to end sometime.

"I am not a spy, nor am I a babysitter. I am a hired sword, my only job is to escort you safely to Analeesia."

"Really?"

I have enough trouble without looking for it. Curiosity is for useless gossipers, not soldiers. I am a soldier to the core, even though I no longer have a commission in the King's army. A pain stabs at my heart, as it always does, when I think about how my career was ripped away from me 10 years ago, and I had no choice, but to become a puppet of noblewomen. Could be worse, I could have had Jackson's fate. My friend. I trusted him, followed him without question, and lost everything as a reward for my loyalty. Maybe, a bit of curiosity is a good thing.

"It's not illegal, is it? This thing you have to do?"

"No, I'm just meeting someone. It has to be a secret though. No one can know."

"Your secret is safe with me."

Who am I to step between a young girl and her secret lover?

The Church's obsession with virginity, in all those who serve it, is unnatural and if she wants to roll around in the hay - all the power to her. Women. Always acting so virginal in public, while being anything but, behind closed doors. I can feel the smirk on my face, as I picture her secret tryst – ah young love. It's been a long time since I sneaked around. I envy her.

We quietly pass field, after field, of tall dark green corn stalks. Her silence has become comfortable, instead of punishing, once I realized she is a quiet woman and not giving me the silent treatment. The existence of a woman like her, never even crossed my mind. I guess there is something to being raised in the country and sequestered in the Church, after all. I wonder if there are more like her and if so, where are they?

The narrow leafy green walls, running away from us in the form of long straight hallways, create good hiding places for attackers. My eyes dart from side to side and I stay close behind Margaret, a hand resting on the hilt of my sword. We are on her father's lands, so the danger is low, still, it's better to be cautious.

Everywhere I look, I can see worn out slaves picking ripened cobs of corn in those long never ending rows. My heart goes out to them and I silently send a prayer up to the gods, asking them to watch over these abused souls, who are forced to feed a nation. Not much else I can do for them.

"Mr. Reachie, do you mind if we stop for a moment?"

"Whatever you want."

I don't like it, the rows of corn walls are my main concern. I am being silly and over cautious, as these are her father's lands, it's safe here. My eyes flicked around, as I dismount along with her and stretch my muscles. Margaret grabs the water skin from her horse turns and walks into the cornfield. My heart jumps into my throat, I lunge towards her, she's quick and beyond my long reach.

"Wait! Where are you going?"

She doesn't answer. She keeps walking towards a group of emaciated slaves picking ripened corn. What the hell? For a small girl, she is damn quick. My long legs quicken their pace and easily catch up. Every muscle is tense. My ears listen for danger. My deep, blue, eyes draw together, focusing on the slaves, daring them to try something. She hands them her water skin. These men are so beaten down they don't look like they could harm a flea.

"Margaret I don't like this. I can't see if there is any danger."

"These are my father's fields. There is no danger here." I know that, still, what if?

"Who's in charge here?"

Margaret is yelling, as she walks further into the field. Suddenly, a hand reaches through the wall of corn, closes on her arm and yanks her out of my sight. My heart jumps in my chest, sending an electric shock throughout my large body. I step through the green wall and find Margaret staring down two grubby men. One has a very dirty hand around her arm, with an amused unfriendly look on his ugly face.

"What 'ave we 'ere a little slave lover?"

"Why are these slaves starving? They need food and water. Now."

There is not a hint of fear in her voice. She exudes pure strong confidence. Impressed, I watch her. She is stronger then I've given her credit for and fearless. Something moves deep inside my chest. I ignored it.

"I think we needa bit of fun whatcha say Maurice?"

"Yeah." Maurice grabs Margaret's skirt.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you." My voice is ice cold. "The Count wouldn't be too happy to find out you damaged his daughter."

Neither will I and I'll kill them without a thought, if they try.

"Da master's daughter?"

"Yes. His daughter." Margaret pulls her arm free. "Now, why are these slaves so thin?" No fear. I suppress a smile and force my mouth into sneer.

"From 'ard work miss."

"Bullshit!" She spits. I take a step back, I am shocked by the force of her voice and her language. Respectable women do not curse. Her face is red. Her hands are clenched into fists. "You. Go and get these workers water, lots of it." She pokes at the one called Maurice and he turns running. I doubt he is going for water, more likely he just wants to get away from the Master's daughter. "You. Round up all the slaves, take them back to their quarters and feed them." She is ordering these men around like a field sergeant on a battlefield.

"But your fadder miss, he won't be appy if we bring em back early miss."

"He'll be furious when they fall down dead from starvation, dehydration, and exhaustion. They cost money to replace we need them alive. So feed them. My father would not treat his horses this bad." She is right there. The Count treats his horses much better than his slaves.

"Ok miss, I'll take 'em back." The dirty man starts to back away blowing his whistle to signal the end of the workday. Margaret is looking very impressed with herself, the poor delusional girl. Well if she wants to believe she'd done some good, I won't spoil her illusion with reality - These slaves are going to be whipped for her interference.

"OK Margaret, you've made your point, time to get moving. We have a long way to go before nightfall." She is gutsy and she cares about her father's slaves. It's been a long time since a woman has surprised me in a 'good' way. "Why did you do that? You could have been hurt. Field slave masters are not known for their polite disposition."

"You are here to protect me."

"Doesn't mean you should go looking for trouble. What if I was forced to kill one of them?"

"You weren't. Besides someone had to do something for those people or do you approve of their treatment?" Her whole body is challenging me along with the tone of her voice. I can see the accusation in her eyes and I don't like it.

"Of course not. I think it's deplorable."

"Then why didn't you do something? You just stood there saying nothing, letting them suffer, just like everyone else does."

"Not much anyone can do about it. It's the way things are and one small girl can't do much about it."

"You'd be surprised about how much one small girl can do."

Her icy voice freezes in my ears, as she kicks the horse and gallops away. It is obvious the conversation is over, which suits me just fine, let her believe she is making a difference, what does it hurt?

# Mary

I stagger away from Raif's tent. Humiliated. I keep moving away. It happened. I feel nothing. I know it happened. I am numb. It's as if, I was watching it from the other side of the room. I feel nothing. I keep moving towards the river.

I ache. My skin burns from where the whip connected, my ass, a dull sting. I hurt in places I should never mention. I feel nothing. I see, and don't see, the camp around me. I move around obstacles without seeing them. I take each step without thought. I am moving toward the river, not because I decided to, but because that is where my body is going. I do not see anything around me. It does not register in my mind. I am blank. I feel nothing.

I walk down the trail to the eddy in the river. I step in. The cold water is freezing. I step in further. It is like tiny needles of cold stabbing my skin. I go in further, to my knees. I keep going. The cold water runs over my bum cooling it. Freezing it. I spread my legs and the water goes up inside me. Freezing my insides. I sit down on a ledge in the water. I can't breathe. The cold pushes all the air out of me, as my body tenses. The water is up to my chin. I open my mouth. Water floods it. I spit it out. I open it again and let the water flood both my openings. Freezing them. Cleansing them.

I lean back and the water washes over my face, my hair, me.

I feel arms around my body, pulling at me. I open my mouth to scream, it fills with water. I'm being pulled up and out. I'm shaking. I'm cold. I'm lying on the ground. I'm being carried. No. NO. Please put me back in the water. Let me slip off the edge.

I lie beside a fire.

It is my fire. I am home again.

Brathoid is sitting beside me. I cannot look at him. He'll know what I did. What I am. He will hate me. He will throw me away when he sees it in my eyes. The pain cuts deep. I hold it in an iron grip deep inside me.

"Drela. My love. Look at me."

I shake my head. I can feel the tears falling down my face. My ugly face. He will hate me once he knows. His fingers are on my chin, pushing my head up, so I can see into his face, his eyes. I cringe, expecting to see disgust. I see only love.

"Drela. My love. Why are you crying?"

"I no wanna tell you."

"I know what happened to Mary, Drela. I saw it too. It wasn't you."

"It wa me."

"No. It was Mary. I was wi ya. Remember? Think Drela."

I don't want to go back there. I shake my head and he holds out his hand. I take it. I am back in Raif's tent. I can see me. I can see the things they are doing to me.

"Drela, look at me."

I turn to Brathoid with the shame of it weighing me down, making me small. He must hate me. I hate me.

"Drela. I don't hate you. You are here with me. Safe. That is Mary. See. It is Mary not you. You are safe with me. We are safe together."

I look into his smashed and scared face. I believe him. I let him hold me. I look back at Mary. She is washing them up. Her face is like stone. Her eyes are dead. She moves without thought. She does as she is told. She is not me. I am here with Brathoid. I curl up in his arms, in his love, and shut my eyes.

I am cold. I am sitting at a fire. Around the fire are faces. I feel nothing. I recognize them though I cannot name them. I feel nothing. I am nothing. They keep calling me Chiefta. I am not Chiefta. Who is Chiefta? My name is Mary. Who are these people, looking at me with such concern in their eyes? I look down at myself, I am wrapped in a blanket. I sit by a fire. I feel nothing. I pull the blanket closer around me. I am nothing. I do not matter.

I am Mary.

# Logan

Terra is located at the base of the mountains and is the eastern gate to the mountain pass, between the Lowlands and the High Flatlands. It is the Count's town to govern, care for, and protect. If he fails, then Eladonia is at risk of being invaded from the East and the North. I wonder if the elderly, country, gentleman I met at the Estate is up to the task of protecting the Eastern border of a nation – I have my doubts. He's too quiet, too timid, and too occupied by his horses to be a protector of the realm. A small worry starts to worm into my consciousness. I'll have to talk to the Lord Justice when I return to Perns, he'll know what to do.

There is a fortress carved into the large cliff of granite rising high above Terra. I glance up at it. It's been some time since I made the trek to those towers. Sixteen years? Eighteen? A lifetime? A time when Jackson and I knew we'd be officers in the King's army, before our dreams were dashed. When we were innocent cadets.

I still remember hiking through the dark forest to the base of that granite cliff and then clinging to the hard rock face, with only a rope secured to steel rings to keep us from falling. I took the lead and found the grooves in the rock to hang onto with my fingers and toes. Clinging to the rock, always looking to the next handhold, the next groove, crack, never looking down. By the time I reached the first tower, my fingers were sore and cramped. It took forever. We'd left Terra before sunrise and finally arrived at the fortress' lowest tower as the sun was setting.

The lowest tower is a cylindrical stone room with straw stuffed mattresses laid out on the floor. At least there were mattresses to sleep on when I'd climbed it, not sure if they are still there, now that the towers have been abandoned to the elements. Now that no one keeps watch over Eladonia from their heights.

As I stood in the tower, while the sun set over the land, I ran my hand along the stone to feel where the carver's tools had removed the rock to make the wall. It was an amazing feat, one that had taken generations to make. I could see all the way to the sea, the land a patchwork of color and textures, everything looked so tiny, like the toys of my childhood. I stood transfixed realizing how small I was, how insignificant we all are.

My silent reverence had been broken when Jackson finished his assent. He'd patted me hard on the back full of adrenaline and the pride of our success. I'd been too tired to move, too full of awe looking at the landscape stretching out below us to speak, while Jackson vibrated around me with excitement, babbling on and on. That was Jackson though, he loved the danger, the more dangerous the activity, the more alive he was.

What has become of you Jackson? Where are you?

Jackson was more like a brother than a friend, closer to me than my own brothers. . We looked so much alike, the dark hair, blue eyes, and large size, that it was easy to believe he was my brother.

My parents treated Jackson as one of their own, a member of our immediate household, allowed to come and go at will, and they suffered for it. Oh, the trouble we caused them and in the end, the grief we inflicted upon them. We were forever getting into trouble.

As boys the kitchen manager wanted to kill us on more than one occasion, when she'd caught us stealing cakes, disrupting the meal prep, by popping in to eat whenever we were hungry. Then as young men, stealing kisses from the prettier kitchen slaves. Mother never had a slave punished for our transgressions, that fate she'd reserved for us. I can still remember her lecture when we'd been caught trying to steal more than a kiss from our prettiest slave.

"I am disappointed in you boys." My mother's tone had a tinge of sadness to it. Jackson, usually so proud and self-confident, deflated beside me at her words, like he'd been slapped, whipped, and disgraced with that one sentence. "I realize that in other houses slaves are to do whatever their Master's demand of them, however, you both know that is not the case here."

"I know Mom."

"Than why did you do it?"

"It's my fault." Jackson appeared half his size, as he spoke. "Logan didn't want to. It was my idea."

"Jackson, that is brave of you to say, however, Logan, are you to forever follow him without thought of what is right and wrong? Those who are under your care deserve your protection, not your dominance."

"Jackson and I will not have houses to protect, like our brothers will. We will not have slaves and servants to protect."

"It is true, you both will not have the burden of protecting Estates or households. You will be tasked with the protection of a realm. Tell me boys, is the life of a peasant really worth less than that of a noble?"

"Ah. Yeah. They own nothing and have very little in way of money or possessions." Jackson answered before I could stop him. The question was a trap and he'd walked right into it. My mother always loved to make us think about the lesson she was teaching.

"Really? Does money determine the value of a person's life?"

"Money determines the value of everything." Jackson answered and I elbowed him in the side, with a shake of my head. He always dug himself in deeper by answering her.

"Money determines the value of things. Not people." My mother said.

"We buy slaves." Jackson replied and I cringed.

"We do. Think about it. If money determines the value of people, slaves are more valuable than nobles, as they have a price tag and we pay to feed, house, and clothe them. They serve us and we take care of them. If all I did was put a roof over Logan's head and food on his table, would this be a reflection of his worth?"

"Of course not. Logan is worth far more than a slave, even the most expensive one in all of Eladonia."

"Why?"

"Because he is good friend, your son. He is kind, generous, and the second best swordsman in our class. He is Logan."

"How should I see your value? Considering you both will not inherit any wealth, no land, nothing of value, does this make you worthless?"

I could feel the annoyance boiling up under the surface of my skin and Jackson's. This fact of our lives, being thrown in our faces, so casually, by my mother was insulting. Our brothers would inherit, even my sister would marry a wealthy nobleman, yet, Jackson and I, would get nothing.

"You think I'm worthless?" I asked my mom.

My heart was full of hurt and rage at her insult. Her response was silence, a tilt of her head and a cocked eyebrow that spoke louder than any words and I suddenly felt worthless, for the first time in my life, and far from the last time.

"That's not what she said Logan. She asked if that makes us worthless, or are we to be valued in different ways than money."

"You understand, Jackson."

"I do, Lady Reachie. People are not valued based on their wealth, not on their birth, but on who they are, what they do with their lives."

"You two will be officers in the King's army. You will be responsible for the lives of your men and their families. You will be responsible for the safety of the realm. Your worth will be measured in your deeds, your orders, and your attitudes toward others. The richest man can be the most worthless of people, if all he cares for is himself and is a tyrant to those in his charge. Your worth is what you chose to make it."

"Yes, Lady Reachie."

"Do you know the name of the young woman you were forcing yourself on?"

"We weren't forcing ourselves on her." I said.

"You weren't? What would happen to a slave who said no to her Master?"

"She would be punished." Jackson said.

"She's powerless and you took advantage of that. You were not protecting her, you were taking advantage of her. You were only taking, without thought of what it meant to her. That is a reflection of your worth, of your character, of who you are. By the way, her name is Mary, I expect you to remember it and respect all women, all those beneath you, and all those in your charge. Undertand?"

We both nodded and it was the last time we tried to even steal a kiss from any of my parent's slaves and servants. It didn't stop us from buying what we wanted from the whorehouses or getting it from the young noblewomen of Perns. We were young men after all.

My mother overlooked a lot of our antics, as long as they didn't compromise our character or hurt a person beneath us. There were many lessons she taught us and Jackson was the one who always took her advice and lectures to heart. I needed to be told a few times, before it got through my thick skull. He went out of his way to make my mother happy, to impress her, to make her proud of him. He was like a son to her, and my father, and they were devastated by his trial and my loss of a commission. We had let them down and knowing we had disappointed them was worse than any punishment handed to us by the old King.

We enter the eastern gate of Terra and are swallowed by its noise and people demanding my full attention.

# Raif

I am watching Mary play with her son in the field.

She is so full of life. She is a good mother. She is loving, attentive, and protective of the boy. I cringe with jealousy and the pain of it, cuts like a sharp knife. I don't know what a mother's love is like, I killed my mother, and my father never forgave me for it, neither did my brothers. I was despised. My nannies and governess had rules, walls, and barriers to keep from getting too close to me. They could see what I was going to become. They saw the monster in me. They knew I did not deserve to be loved. I don't deserve the kind of love Mary has for her son.

Her face is alive, animated, beautiful, full of love, and happiness. She's never like that around me. Can I blame her? The Mary I know is cold, reserved, and unemotional. The fight is gone from her – I killed it. It shouldn't bother me. It is what I wanted. She is a slave, a piece of merchandise, something to package and sell. Yet, It does bother me. I want her to look at me like she looks at her son, full of love, adoration, and joy.

This is useless. I can't change anything. Besides, I have other things to do, I don't have time to stand here watching her. She will never look at me like that. She will always despise me, just like my father, my brothers, and my nannies. Anger rears up inside me. I am filled with it. A rage so hot, it consumes my thoughts.

"She's a slave you idiot, you can't even keep her. You have Rosa to stroke your ego and pretend to love you. That is all the love a woman will give you."

I believed a woman loved me, once, I was wrong, and I paid the price. I won't make that mistake again. To be tossed aside, when I no longer hold any value for her ambitions. It was a painful lesson to learn. Love is a romantic notion that does not exist. It is the stuff of stories and only for a select few in this world, those who are good, kind, and generous. I am none of those.

I have Rosa, beautiful, wonderful, Rosa, who has never once looked at me the way Mary looks at her son. Maybe that's the problem. Rosa. She is my property. She only pretends to love me because she has no choice. I want something real. A woman to love me because she chooses to love me, not someone bought and paid for.

"Get real Raif, love is for good guys and you are defiantly not a good guy."

Guys like me are hated by society, by women, and even by our customers. Polite society will buy my merchandise and spit on me in the same turn. It is a dishonourable thing to make one's living from the slave trade. It is worse than being a whore. Lower than the scum who beg for scraps in the streets.

To be a slaver, is to be the devil himself.

"FUCK!"

I stomp away toward the corral of slaves. Jealousy is an ugly beast and it has a permanent residence in my heart. Nothing to be done about it, besides, it's time to get to work. We need to be leaving this field and moving into the Lowlands. Time to get this product to market.

"Sero, have you found anyone who can read yet?"

"Sir, none of these savages can read. Ms. Macdonald is trying to see if any can learn, but I doubt any of them are smart enough."

"Well try to find at least two."

My father will have to finish their reading lessons if he wants them to be able to read. What the hell is the man thinking? The order is for maids who can read of all things. Well, unless I enslave someone of noble birth, I'm not going to find someone who can already read. This is my father's problem, not mine. At least, this is what I keep telling myself, I know my father will be disappointed in me, yet again. I am always failing, falling short, of my father's expectations, which is why I'm stuck out here and my brothers have more respectable occupations.

"Where are the grooms?" I ask.

I glance around the corral, where the horses are kept, at least where they are suppose to be kept, because the corral is empty.

"Not sure sir." Sero says.

"You don't know, isn't it your job to know what the fuck is going on?"

"Sir, I have guards working with da grooms, I'm sure they are just training."

Sero whispers to another guard, who takes off, probably going to look for the horses. Horses are cheaper and easier to replace than the merchandise. I can't seem to get that fact through the thick skulls of these idiots who think a horse is worth more than a slave.

"Sero, we are leaving in the morning, am I going to have a horse to ride?" I glare at the rat faced man. I'm really beginning to hate him. "Find me when you've found them." Sero nods and takes off in a hurry.

I'm getting a headache.

I find myself near the tent where Rosa is training the whores and bed slaves. Hmmm, I could use a pleasurable distraction and Rosa always drives me to distraction. I break through the tent's flap into a maelstrom of fury and chaos.

"Ya bitch," One of the whores I employ for my men is attacking another one. Two bodies are rolling around on the ground, legs and arms flailing. Women are screaming, some are even egging the combatants on.

"He wa mine an ya sucked 'is cock!"

"Enough!"

My voice is loud, full of authority, with enough edge of furious danger to it that everyone stops and freezes as if made of stone, afraid to even breathe. Yep. That's me the monster who scares the life out of women. Rosa steps towards me, hips swaying, a smile on her lips, my Rosa.

"Raif darling how good to see you."

"What the fuck is going on here?"

"Oh, just a little disagreement amongst the girls. Nothing to worry about."

"Nothing to worry about?" I push the words out through clenched teeth, seething with anger. "You call this training?" My voice is full of rage. My body shakes with it.

"Raif" Rosa walks closer to me. "Sweet, your timing is bad is all, we have been talking about jealousy and not getting too attached to one's clients." Rosa turns to the girls, "and as you can see, whores must not get attached to their customers, because customers are fickle things. Remember girls, they will not become attached to you, you are just a fuck, nothing more."

I turn around and walked out of the tent. She ignored me. I'm in charge. Not her. My head is pounding. A sharp pain above my right eye is shooting up and out the back of my head. I need a drink, more than one.

"Sir, Sero asked me ta fetch ya. The groomsmen slaves are back sir."

"Good, I'll be by to inspect their progress. Where were they?"

"Exercisin the horses. Sir."

"You fucks let the slaves on horses? They could have ridden off and I'd be out horses and profits."

"Sir, they all have family 'er waiting for 'em. Don't worry sir we wouldna loose any of yer merchandise."

I don't answer the trembling young guard.

I stomp off with a fury weaving through me.

# Logan

Terra is a small city. A dot compared to Perns, still, it is a city and that means dangers to watch out for. My senses are heightened, as I scan the streets watching for any threat. My huge size and angled facial features are the best tools I own. When I draw my brows together and narrow my eyes, into the shadows of my strong brow, I look dangerous. With one hand on my sword and a sneer on my lip, I follow Margaret down the narrow dirt streets lined with old wooden buildings inhabited by the citizens of Terra and their commerce.

She's insisting we stay at the Falcon Inn, a place I don't know and that puts me on edge. It is located in the worst part of Terra, close to the slave trade, away from the more respectable commerce. It is too far from her father's Terra townhome, too far from her father's representative homes, too far from her father's governmental buildings, too far from the homes of respectable citizens.

"Miss Margaret, we should be staying at your father's Terra home, not here." Secret tryst or not, this place is not safe enough. I'm sure her young beau could make his way to the better side of town.

"Mr. Reachie, I am staying here, as I always do. You are more than welcome to stay at my father's place. I'm certain his servants will welcome you."

"Why do you choose to put yourself in danger?"

"I am not in danger. I do not need my father's property, his wealth, his servants or slaves. He gave me a life of poverty, I did not choose it, and I will not use his homes. I am not entitled to them anymore."

I understand her pain. She was the man's only heir, she lived a life of luxury, she had a future of leisure, and he ripped it all from her. It must have been hell to be given away like that, to have everything taken from you, to be put aside, and then to have everything that was to be yours given to Aleesa, I am surprised she even visits the man. The knife of my own loss cuts deep, and it was my own fault.

I stand with the door open to let light into the dark smoky room, so I can see what's inside. The main floor is a dark tavern smelling of smoke, stew, ale, and sour sweaty bodies. Once my eyes adjust to the darker interior, I can see a few old men, some farmers, travelers perhaps, and the tavern owner behind the bar. No one looks dangerous. I signal for Margaret to enter and she mutters something insulting under her breathe, as she walks past me, shaking her head.

"Margaret, good ta see ya girl."

The Falcon Inn's owner steps out from behind the bar, with a big smile on his round chubby face, and his hand out in greeting. Margaret gives the man's hand a quick shake, before the two of them move toward the stairs, talking in quiet whispers. Her conversation isn't my business. My business is her security, which I take very seriously. I stand in the room, noticing everything, everyone, and making sure they all notice me.

"Logan, I will be staying in my room, so you are free to go where you would like."

"Miss." I give her a quick nod.

I am not going anywhere. I sit close to the stairs, order food, and a mug of ale. From here, I can see the whole room. The ceiling is black from the smoke of the cook fire and low. So low, I had to bend down to keep from hitting my head on one of the thick beams, holding up the two floors above.

The cute serving wench brings me a bowl of stew and a full mug of ale. She's probably the owner's daughter, judging from her efficient service and pleasant manner. I enjoy the view, as she walks away from me and back to the bar. If that was all there was to a woman, I wouldn't mind being saddled with one, but I know better. I've spent enough time with the wives of the nobles in Perns to know, they are a pain in the ass, no matter how nice that ass is. Not that one can really tell from all the skirts they wear.

I wouldn't mind checking under the cute wench's skirt, to find out how fine hers is.

# Drela

During the long days, while Raif and Rosa trained the slaves, I emerge from my box deep inside this body I share with Mary, to spend time with Josia. I cherish this time with my son because these are the last few moments I get to spend with him, before I leave him behind forever.

On the last day of rest, before it is time to depart the field for the markets of the Lowlands, I am a bundle of nerves. Scared they will notice that some of the slaves are gone. Terrified they will be found and whipped because of my plan. Devastated because Josia is about to go and hide with them. In all this fear, there is also pride that I am stealing from Raif. I am taking something from him and saving some of my people at the same time. Saving some of the youngest children from the horrors of the pleasure houses. Saving some of the older ones from a life in the Lowlander's fields. I came up with the plan, found the two men who can make it work, and with them, am doing something.

I look down at Josia and all the pride I feel, is dulled by the pain of knowing this is the last time I will ever see him. My precious boy, like his sister, he will only be a memory. I can feel the tears, just behind my eyes. I hold them back behind a smile. I must be strong for Josia. He will be free. It's all I have left to give him.

"I 'ave something for ya." I take a thin piece of leather out of my pocket, on it is strung a large bear's claw. "Yar dad made it for me. I wore it always. Dis from first bear he killed. It yars now, ya keep it safe an with you all time. Ya remember yar dad an me when ya look at it."

"Wow, danks ma."

I tie it around his neck and pulled him in close for a long cuddle. I sit in the field with all the bright, pretty looking, flowers holding my boy, kissing him, telling him stories about his dad and I, until Basha comes to take him.

"Josia ya go with Basha n hide. Era will take ya back to High Flatland."

"Ya come too ma?"

"No, I must stay 'ere with da others. Ya listen to Era, he find way home an ya be safe."

"I don na wan a go. I wanna stay 'ere with ya"

"I want ya to be with me too, but no good idea, ya no safe 'ere. If ya ever get a message that says Brathoid loves Drela like da moon love da stars, ya know it from me. Ok?"

"Ok ma, Brathoid loves Drela like da moon love da stars."

"Basha make sure Era knows dat too. Make sure he tell Josia ta remember it. I hope ta find ya one day sweetheart, til den my heart goes with ya."

I hug him tight, kiss the top of his head, "now ya go with Basha, be good boy an remember me."

"I do ma. I love ya." Josia's face is wet with tears and my heartaches at the sight of him in distress. Basha pats my shoulder – it's time.

"I love ya too."

I stand watching them walk into the wood that surrounds the field at the base of the rock wall. So brave. They will hide until we've gone. They will make their way home as a group, taking care of each other. I know this is the right thing to do. I know it is. It just hurts so much. It's as if a piece of my soul walked into those trees and a hole that will never be filled is all that is left. I almost turned to run after him, to bring him back with me. I can't hold back the tears any longer. The pain is too sharp. I sit and cry, as the tears fall and I feel all the pain I am pulled back into the box, with the memory of Brathoid. I draw myself into the box, locking it shut, to escape from Raif.

# Logan

I stretch rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. I am barely awake when I hear a bloodcurdling scream, coming from Margaret's room. Fear and panic sweep through me, every nerve forcing me towards her rescue. My heart leaps into my throat, as I roll out of bed and reach for my sword. Darting for her room, I slam into the door with my shoulder, breaking it off its hinges, and flying into the room. My eyes scan the room for an intruder. My heart beats in my ears, as adrenaline runs through my veins, heightening my senses, focusing only on finding the threat. I look at the window, closed, the corner, empty. Examining the sparse room, I see every shadow, every hiding spot. No one. I can hear only her breathing and the pulsing of my own heartbeat. She is alone, holding the thin cover up to her chin. Her eyes are not full of fright. No. No, she isn't scared.

She's... Furious?

"Margaret are you ok?"

"I'm fine. Look what you did to the door. You idiot."

I look at the door jam beside me. There are holes in the wood where the hinges used to be and the door is lying on the floor, some distance in front of me. I lower my sword and breath, trying to get my heartbeat under control again. My whole body is shaking from the shock and the rush of blood is now slowing.

"What did you scream for?" I ask.

"I woke up when a rat ran over my face, not something I need the likes of you saving me from."

She's looking at me funny, her eyes are like saucers and her face is growing very red. She looks very guilty, embarrassed. What the hell is wrong with her?

"Screaming 'cause of a rat is not something to be embarrassed of. I understand."

Now that the adrenaline is wearing off and I'm not in a panic, focused only on her, I am becoming more aware of myself. Giggles of laughter erupt behind me, and as I turn, I realize from the breeze around my nether regions that I am, naked. Shit, I cover myself with my hands keeping a firm grip on my sword.

Shit.

"Nice sword mate, but maybe you should keep it behind closed doors." A man chides me laughing. "You'd have to have a door to that though."

Shit.

I have no choice. It's her safety, over my honor. I take two long strides to the fallen door, bend over to pick it up and then lean it against the gaping hole where the door should be.

"Stay covered." I point at Margaret, before slipping into the hallway. I turn to the two women standing there, watching the show. "Please guard the door and yell if anyone tries to get into her room." I duck into my room and quickly put my pants on.

"What the hell? Who did this?" The women start yelling. Someone is close to Margaret's open door. I swing the door open, ready to pounce, and am face to face, with the red-faced innkeeper.

"Sorry. My fault. My charge was screaming and I over reacted."

"Ya think?"

"Sorry I'll cover the cost and fix it for you today."

"You better. OK folks back to your rooms, show's over." The women provocatively smile at me.

Shit!

I sheepishly knock on the door jam. "Margaret you can get dressed now, I'll watch the door." I turn my back to protect her privacy, shit, this is not one of my best moments.

"Ready. Shall we get break the fast?"

"Ah can I finish getting dressed first?"

"Why? Everyone has already seen everything that you have to offer." I feel the heat of blood running over my torso and my face deepening to the color of red. "You are kind of cute when you blush. Get dressed, I'm hungry."

She insists that we eat at the tavern downstairs, where I can hear all the whispers and laughter around me. I know they are laughing at me. She is laughing at me. I keep my head down and eat my break the fast of eggs, sausage, and bread, fuming as I do. How dare she make me sit here and endure this humiliation.

"I am meeting someone today at the church in Terra, Mr. Reachie. That should give you time to fix my door."

She blushes a deep red color. Ah, so her secret tryst is today. I wonder what she did yesterday in her room by herself? Maybe this is a repeat performance.

A picture of her, with her lover, forms in my mind. Her pretending to be virginal, innocent, and chaste, looking up at him, as she bows her head to appear shy and uncertain. Him standing over her, his arms around her, bending to kiss her, as he undoes the ties of her dress, and lets it fall to the floor. Her, standing naked, in front of the Church alter.

"At the church? She's going to have sex in a church?!" I am shocked by the idea.

I didn't mean to say the words out loud, didn't realize I had, until her look of shock and indignation penetrates my mind's image of her bent over the alter being taken by her young man.

"What did you say?" She looks mad.

Shit.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to say that out loud. It just surprised me that you were meeting your lover at the church, I thought he snuck into your room yesterday." I can feel my face growing red.

"Lover? Who said I had a lover? I am a seer I can't ... You know ... Well..."

She is flustered, embarrassed, and mad all at once. I shift to get a little further away from her, could this day get any worse? It hasn't even started. Maybe I should go back to bed until it's over.

"Forget I said anything, my mistake I seem to be making a lot of them today." I put both my hands up in surrender. She starts to stand up. "Please sit and finish your break the fast." She shoots me an angry look that goes right through me. "Or not?" I say. She sits back down very slowly, her eyes still penetrating me. How much can she see? I shift uncomfortably in my seat, scared of what she does see, "I'm sorry."

"OK." She sits down across from me again.

# Raif

I spend the rest of my day with the slaves labelled - grooms. It will be their jobs to take care of the horses, accompany their masters on hunts, and pack wagons for trips. It is their job to prepare for their Master's travelling needs, no matter the time of day or night. Thank the gods I don't have to teach them how to read. It's bad enough getting them to remember everything they hear, and repeat it back to me.

They are a stubborn bunch of bastards.

No matter how much Sero beats them, they refuse to do things the Lowland nobility way, insisting that their way is better. Brathoid's people are a prideful lot and pride in a slave, eats away at my bottom line. Frustration is not a strong enough word for what I feel. I need them to comply, to be what I need them to be, to be what my father ordered.

Can such a prideful people bend at the knee? Do what they are told? They must or else their lives will be miserable. Pride. It will ruin them and the most prideful of the lot, is Mary.

Ah Mary, she should be waiting for me by now, if I can't break the pride and fight in her where will she end up? The options bother me. No house of nobility will tolerate a wilful slave. Neither will merchants, nor whorehouses. I feel panic behind my heart and my head is spinning with scenarios. I see her in the fields, dirty, callused, and exhausted. I imagine her tied to a whipping post, receiving lash, after lash, hard enough to break skin and leave deep cuts in her back. Blood pours down over her luscious ass and gorgeous long muscular tanned legs, I can't let that happen. She has to break. She must become what I need her to become, what I need her to be, for her sake.

I enter the tent in an agitated state. The day has been long and there is still so much left to do.

"Mary, we need to discuss choices again."

"Mary's not here." Rosa comes out from the backroom, her hair is dishevelled and her wrap is carelessly tied around her. This is very unlike her.

"And what were you doing?"

"Sleeping, it was a long day."

"I bet."

I push past her and enter the backroom. No one's there, could they have snuck out? It is a tent after all. The furs and blankets on the bed are twisted into a ball, too twisted for sleeping.

"Mary is probably eating dinner or playing with her son."

The idea of Mary spending time with her brat, instead of me, fuels the fire of rage burning hot inside my body. She's had all day with that kid. I want my dinner, I want my ale, and, oh gods, I want to fuck. I step outside to find Sero.

"Sero, Sero" I call out.

"He not here sir." A guard answered.

"Where is he?"

"I don't really know sir, could be with the whores or at the cooks fire."

"Go find him, no wait" Sero is not the person I want to see. "Go and find Mary my serving wench, she's late and I'm hungry," and cranky, and tired, and have a massive headache.

"Yes sir, right away sir."

"Rosa"

"Yes"

"Pour me a mug of ale. I've a terrible thirst."

Rosa pours a mug of ale and then slams it down on the table in front of me, so hard that half of it sloshes out and soaks my shirt.

"What the hell! You stupid bitch, now look what you did. Get me a clean shirt and another full mug of ale."

"What do I look like, your serving girl?" Great it's that time of the month again.

"You look like my slave and obviously an over indulged one."

I go into the back room to change. The sight of the bed, and what I think is the smell of sex, stabs at my jealous heart. Who was in here with Rosa? There was someone, I know there was.

I still smell of ale, as I re-enter the front of the tent and my mug is still empty, Rosa is lying on the pallet in the corner, ignoring me. How dare she. I'm about to start screaming at her when the guard runs back into the tent.

"Sir, sir, Mary's not with the slaves, she didn't come back fer dinner. No uns seen her all day."

"Shit, gather a small group and get out there and find her."

"Yes sir."

Has she run off? How could she escape? Fuck, fuck, fuck, how could I be so stupid to let her go off alone? What made me think she'd stick around? The dangerous mountain roads? Being so far from home? The stories of monsters and worse in the forest? Those things keep most slaves too scared to venture too far. She isn't like most slaves, she is arrogant, fearless, strong willed, and smart.

How did she get passed the guards guarding the entrance to the roads in and out of the field? The field is at the bottom of a circular hole in the mountainside, carved out by a river eddy centuries ago. There are only the two ways out of the hole and both are guarded. If she didn't pass the guards to travel on the trails carved out of the canyon cliffs, how else could she escape? The only other way to get out of the canyon is the river. It's freezing cold, rapid, and deadly. Did she fall in? Did some wild animal attack her in the field?

I start to panic. Please no. I yell at a couple of guards.

"You. Go down to the river. Look around. I want to know if she fell in. You. Make up torches and look in the field to see if she is injured."

"Doubtful sir, she probably ran off."

"Just do what I said"

Why do they question my orders? I am trying to stay calm, unemotional, hard, and mean because I'm Raif the Raider and not some emotional, old, worrywart, of a grandmother.

Fuck.

"Raif" Rosa comes up behind me, wrapping her arms around my waist and leaning against my back. "Come inside let the boys do their job and let me do mine." Her fingers are working at the laces and knots holding my clothes together. I remove myself from her clutches. I don't want sex. I want to find Mary. She hits my back, twice, with her fist. I turn in shock.

"Why the hell did you do that?" I scream at her.

"You made me mad." She stands there looking annoyed.

"I made you mad? I'm the one who should be furious. I should have your stripped naked and beaten in front of everyone, before giving you to the guards for their pleasure and then selling you to the cheapest whorehouse I can find." I am shaking with anger. "Who were you fucking when I walked in?"

"What are you talking about? I only touch and pleasure you."

Rosa's face quickly turns to a look of complete innocence, her mouth in a little pout. It's the look she gives me, when she's done something she wants me to forgive and forget. If she'd responded to my accusation with anger, I'd of thought I was wrong in my assumption. This. This look she is giving me, is a game of hers, a manipulative tool.

I was right, there was someone and I want to know who it was.

"Raif I was sleeping alone. I am yours, only yours, no one else would dare touch me."

"So? What? You'd let someone touch you, if you could find someone, who wasn't scared of me? I'm sick of the games Rosa."

I'm tired of the games she plays. I am tired of our master – slave relationship. Though I'm not sure who is the master and who is the slave, anymore. I want something real, something with substance, honesty and real passion. Not this act she puts on. She is mine, only because I bought and paid for her, not because she chose me over another man. Would she have chosen me, if she were free to choose? I only want her to love me. Is that so hard? I slam my fist into the table. It does nothing to sooth the anger, humiliation, and hurt that twists inside me. Mary walks into the tent, ignoring me.

"Where have you been Mary?" I am furious.

"Sorry sir, my apologies. I went for a walk with my son and lost track of time."

With her son? Lost track of time? Here I am thinking she was dead, scared she'd run away, worried about her future, and she was playing with her son! All the day's frustrations wash over me. My nerves are fried, and my head is pounding.

"Not good enough, you are to be available, when I want you, all your time belongs to me. You are not to leave without my approval, is that clear?"

"Yes sir, it will never happen."

Mary drops to her knees without hesitation. She kisses my boots, just like Rosa taught her to. My stomach flips in disgust and I kick her away. She is a cowering dog, not a woman.

"I am sorry sir, I am here only to serve, for your pleasure sir." She says.

That is a lie. Rosa's lie, repeated back to me, on Mary's lips. My whole life is a lie, my name is a lie, everything about me, is a lie. Mary loves her son so much she wanted to be with him and not me, well then she damn well will be.

"Go get your son and bring him here."

"Sir please sir, my son is off to bed sir. Please do what you will to me, but leave my son alone."

Oh her son is taken care of, loved, cherished and safe in bed, while I am left to stew, panic, worry and be made a fool of. I push her down and kick her hard in the stomach, she gasps. I kick her again. She cries out in pain, clutches her stomach, rolling herself into a ball. I grab her hair and pull her to her feet, before throwing her out of the tent, where she lands sprawled out on the hard earth.

"Go get you son and bring him to me. NOW. That's an order. You..." I point at a guard. "Assemble the merchandise."

# Mary

I push myself up gasping for air. No. No. No. Fear grips me and I feel the pain of it more than the physical pain of being kicked. Panic starts to overtake me, as I stumble toward the slave's corral. Find Sanchie he will know what to do. My stomach suddenly contracts, and I vomit. My stomach empties of food and fills with fear. Pure fear. Josia is gone. He is with Basha and Era. If Raif finds out that he isn't here. That he is missing. Everything will be lost. Everything Drela did, will be undone. I can't let that happen. She has finally escaped.

"Sanchie, Sanchie, I'm in trouble."

Sanchie's arms are around me holding me up. I fall into him, sobbing.

"Wha 'appended ta ya chiefta?"

"Raif is furious. He wants to see Josia but..." My throat constricts and I can't breath.

"Ya meet me over der chiefta, I fix. Be OK. I promise."

I can't breathe. I sit waiting for Sanchie. I lose track of time. I do not know how long I wait before Sanchie returns with a young boy, about Josia's size.

"Now Gresha, ya pretend ta be Josia ok? Ya take 'Chiefta's hand an do wha she say. Good boy!" Sanchie smiles at me. "Dey canna tell de difference, dey will think he Josia if ya say so."

I hug him. I kiss him. Relief and gratitude wash over me. I can breathe.

"Thank you Sanchie. Thank you."

# Raif

I pace back and forth trying to get my anger under control. It's not working, I'm only getting more worked up. My mind is flooded with all the slights, injustice, and failures of my life. My childhood bullied by bigger brothers, despised by my father. A career I wanted ripped away from me, only to have one I hated pushed onto me. Thrown away by a woman I believed I was going to marry. Forgotten by friends. Despised by society. Feared by savages. My wreck of a life.

"Raif why are you so mad, come, lie in the backroom and I'll...."

Who was with Rosa in my bed? Red, hot anger, bubbles up like lava. I am done. This isn't the life I wanted, it's the life I was forced into, and it has turned me into a monster. My brothers are living the easy life in Perns, on the money I make for them.

I get the crumbs.

"You'll what? Fuck me like you did some coward. Don't you have any other line Rosa? You can't fuck yourself out of this one, bitch, I'll have you sold to the worst whorehouse I can find when we get to the Lowlands." I am yelling at her, spit shoots out with every word. I grab her and throw her to the ground. "Stay the fuck away from me."

Mary walks into the tent holding her son's hand, keeping the brat behind her skirts, safely away from me. Protecting him, from the likes of me. She despises me. If my life had gone the way it was supposed to go, would I have been loved? Doubtful. The woman I loved once, the one who rejected me in my time of need, is probably married to one of my brothers. Living off the profits of my labours and laughing about it, thankful she was able to escape from me when she did. The ungrateful whore.

"Come out boy, don't hide behind your momma's skirts." I keep my voice under control, as I speak to the child. He steps around Mary, looking up at me with huge eyes, filled with bravery, challenging me, protecting his mother. "A courageous boy you have Mary, I like that. Boy, I have a special place for you to sit and watch the show. Come with me."

I lead them out of my tent to the spot where travellers can water their horses and rest on their journey. The guards are bringing the slaves to watch this punishment. They need to see what happens when they defy me. Displease me. Anger me. Break the rules I've laid out for them.

"Tie her."

One guard grabs her arm pulling her to a post used by travellers to tie their horses or mules. Another guard throws a bucket of water from the watering trough on her. Just like an animal, she is tied up. I step in front of her, to address the audience of slaves and Raiders.

"Mary has displeased me, she disappeared and now she is being punished. You are to watch and remember what happens to those who forget they belong to me."

A guard passes me a knife and I can see the fear in Mary's eyes, as I walk up to her. She's always afraid of me. I am a monster. I should act like one more often. If I acted more like a monster and less like a man, she wouldn't have wandered off. She would have been here. Rosa wouldn't be fucking Sero. My brother's wouldn't be living the good life on my profits. My father would love me. I take the knife and cut the front of her blouse. Her undergarments. I pull the material apart exposing her breasts to the audience.

"Look upon Mary. See what she has to offer."

She should have been here, offering them to me. I cut the waist of her skirts and let them fall to the ground. I cut undergarments off her. Then I turn to the guards and nod. The guards take turns hitting her over and over with sticks and whips. Where is Sero? He loves doing this kind of thing. She has welts all over her stomach, legs, and breasts. Tears fall down her face and onto her red breasts, as she screams in pain. I order her to spread her legs. I order her to be whipped over and over again. I then turn her around so they could hit her back, ass and legs. One of the men sticks the handle of his whip up her anus, laughing before turning her back around to face her people, so they can see her shame.

It's not enough. The anger is still boiling over. She has to be broken. She must fear me. She must never want to disappear again. I nod at the largest of the guards and he unties her from the poll.

"On your knees, bitch." The guard's fingers tangle in her hair, as he forces her down to her knees. "Open wide."

I point to another guard, who smiles the creepiest sneer I've ever seen. I hang out with the worst men to walk the earth. He undoes the laces of his pants, frees his cock, and slaps Mary's face with it. What the fuck man. The large guard is holding Mary by the hair, laughing, and encouraging his buddy to fuck her face, which he does, forcing himself into her mouth.

I should have known. I should have seen it in her eyes. The guard screams. Pulls out and is bent over on the ground holding his crotch.

"The bitch bit me." He finally gets the words out. He holds up one bloody hand.

Defiance. She still defies me. Bite her Master in Perns and she'll end up dead. Beaten to death. She needs to understand ,she has no power here. No choice. Nothing. She exists to only serve.

"Bend her over."

The big guard pulls on the strands wrapped around his fingers and pulls her up turning her around and forcing her to bend at the waist. Another guard pulls her legs apart and then rams his cock into her ass. She screams. Each of the guards takes a turn filling her. I can see the cum dripping out of her ass, her pussy, and some have sprayed their loads all over her ass. When the last one is done, I have the guard force her to her knees again. She looks up at me. Her face is a mess of tears, snot and pain. My heart hurts from the sight of her in such distress. I want to hold her, to protect her, keep her safe from the world she is going to. She is silent. The tears flow freely down her face. A face that has no fight left in it, a face void of pride, and full of pain. Pain, I caused. Her pain sparks my desire, makes me hard. I am a monster. It's who I am.

She is finally broken.

"Open up Mary. If you bite me, I'll order them all to fuck you again."

She opens her mouth and I plunge myself into her deep. She gags and I push harder. I hold both sides of her head with my hands and find my rhythm. Her mouth feels so good and looking at her in pain, drives me to want her more. Need her more. I pull on her hair. I can hear a muffled scream, I pound her face. She gags. I pull back to let her breath before taking more pleasure from her. It's a hollow pleasure, shallow and unsatisfying.

I throw her to the ground.

"Get cleaned up bitch."

I watch her crawl to the animal's water trough and climb into it, like it is a bath. Her body is submerged in the cold dirty water, her face turned away before going under. I turn and look at her boy, disgusted with myself. His face is a mess of tears and snot, just like his mothers. The slaves are either silent or softly crying.

You went beyond the line of decency and proved that you are the monster that everyone thinks you are.

Guilt and self-hatred twist deep inside me. I can't regret this. I can't second guess myself. I did what I had to do. It's done. I had no choice.

You had a choice and you chose to be a monster.

I've never lost my temper in front of a slave before, not even Rosa. Sero is the one who enjoys beating them, not me, guilt, my only friend, crawls out of its box and works its way into every part of me.

You are worse then a monster. You are the devil in disguise.

I close my eyes and let guilt play with my emotions. I deserve only death and a painfully slow one. I am no longer a man. There is no retribution for this. I can never go home now. I am worse than my father.

You will always be Raif the Raider.

"Get the slaves locked up." I look at Rosa and see the fear on her face. "Lock Rosa in with them too." Her eyes go wide like saucers and she doesn't say a word. "After she cleans Mary up. Bring Mary to my tent when she's done." I want to hold Mary. Comfort her. Take the pain away. "On second thought, I'll do it." I want to make up for what I've done. "And find Sero."

# Logan

Margaret is taking her sweet time.

I wait outside the church feeling uneasy, wanting to put as much distance as possible between this place and myself. As I walked up the wide marble steps to the entrance, I stared at the pillars holding up the roof. Black screaming human faces full of pain and monsters, never seen in this world, pushing their way out of the white stone, and leaving part of their bodies embedded. That is how the church makes me feel, as though it will trap me, within its walls, full of pain and terror.

The black wood entrance doors tower over me, making me feel small, which I guess is the point, they must be over 12 feet high. There is no way to open these doors except from the inside, barring everyone from entering through them. They stand, as an unwelcoming barrier, between Margaret and I, making me uneasy - If she needs me, I am unable to get to her.

Statues of guardians stand on either side of the wide entrance, silent and foreboding. One carved from black onyx, the other from white granite. Each wearing a full suit of armor, their swords in front of them, tips to the ground, and their gauntlet hands upon the pommel. They tower over my significant height and I do not like the feeling.

My whole body itches to leave. How can she stand it? She seems like a nice enough person, intelligent, kind hearted, strong, and innocent. A trait I never thought I'd find in a woman her age. How could the Count just give her away to the Church? I'm certain, if I had kids of my own, I'd want the best for them.

Kids.

I was supposed to have some of those by now, if I'd married Sara, like I was supposed to. Sara is married with three kids, two boys and a very spoiled little girl who looks exactly like her, a pretty little doll. All three inherited her blonde hair, but the boys got their father's stocky short build. I often wonder what would they have looked like, if I'd been their father? Would they still be blonde? Or would they get my black hair? My blue eyes? My large size? I'll never know.

"Hello, Mr. Reachie are we ready?"

She has come out of a side door. I wonder if the main doors even open up? I'm not curious enough to ask.

"Yes, Miss Margaret."

# Mary

I didn't sleep all night.

I didn't dare move.

It was surreal.

Raif carried me inside his tent with such tenderness - I almost vomited. I can feel my skin cringe at his touch, my muscles tensing waiting for the next blow. Yet, I want to curl up into his strong arms. Odd that. I am so desperate for tenderness that I welcome it, even from him.

He gives me the care, affection, warmth, that I craved.

He places me gently on his bed before wiping away the dirt and the blood, with the gentle touch of a mother. He kisses every welt, every wound, and there are a lot of them, with gentleness and love. I close my eyes and pretend it isn't him making me feel better, loved, cherished, that it is a faceless stranger. I start to relax, to feel safe, and that is when he speaks, his words freezing me from the inside out.

"Mary. It was for your own good. I need to break you of your pride, your willfulness, your independence. Do you understand that?"

I don't say a word. I don't move. Scared he is going to make me service him again.

"I don't want to hurt you. I don't want this for you. This isn't me. I don't want to do this to you. I don't. I wish things were different."

I say nothing. I don't feel anything. I am numb.

His hands slowly and carefully smooth out my hair and caress my face with loving care. I need to feel safe. To feel protected. I never will again. I don't feel anything. I don't even care.

His lips kiss the top of my head and his arms come around me. He holds me close. Kissing the top of my head, caressing my back, making me feel safe. I know I'm not. This is a man who destroys lives, who causes pain.

I spent the night in his arms. Every time I try to slip away, he wakes, brings me close, kisses me gently, and asks if I am uncomfortable, in need of anything, want something. Do my wounds hurt? Can he get me some water, salve, anything? He'd searches my body and curses when he finds a cut.

I do not know how to deal with this Raif, this kind, loving, sweet Raif.

# Logan

"Mr. Reachie"

"Yes, Miss. Margaret?"

"I want to look around the market."

"If you wish. Although, I'm certain there isn't much left by this time of day."

"I know. Let's see what there is."

We walk around and she passes by the stalls with clothes, hats, and trinkets, plenty of items the affluent buy to show off their wealth. I know Aleesa would love quite a few of these items. The hair comb sitting on one table catches my eye, it's blue coating would suite her blonde locks. A fan, painted with the most delicate of brushstrokes, creating a dazzling image of a waterfall cascading down a mountain face, would be a nice gift, if it didn't get ruined in my saddlebag. It is far too delicate to make the journey through the mountains unscathed. A glint of sunlight, reflecting off glass, stands out amongst the trinkets. It is a broach, with blue glass cut into the shape of a flower and embedded in silver metal. The blue is the same shade as her eyes and the flower reminds me of her. Maybe she'll forgive me for leaving, if I bring her a gift or two.

"This salted beef jerky will be good for the journey. We will take what you have left." Margaret's voice, I look up and she is at the next stall, one that has very little left to sell.

"Thad a be $4 dollas."

"I'll give you $1.50."

"$2 no less."

"$2, for this amount?" She pauses and looks around. "OK $2"

"No! She'll give you no more then $1." I say.

Women really have no clue when it comes to money. It isn't just physical dangers I protect my charges from, it is all kinds of dangers, including being taken advantage of, and getting ripped off by merchants. Most of the noblemen who hire me expect me to protect their wallets, by limiting their wives expenditures, as well as their wives. It's all part of the job.

Margaret abruptly turns around to face me, leans in close enough for me to get a whiff of her earthy scent, stirring up a feeling I shouldn't be having, a feeling that I thought was long dead, and whispers to me through clenched teeth.

"Mr. Reachie, I know it is only worth $1 however, my father is paying and has more money then he needs. This man needs to feed a family and barely has enough to clothe himself. Do you understand?"

I am flabbergasted. Most nobles do not notice the needs of those below them.

"Yes."

"Mr. Reachie will you go see if there is any cheese left over there?"

"No. It isn't safe to leave you unprotected."

She rolls her eyes at me, glares at me, and points towards the dairyman's stall. I don't move. She isn't the first woman to think I'm a servant, here to do her bidding, and she won't be the last.

"Seriously? I can take care of myself."

I don't move. Exasperated she moves towards the dairyman's stall and puts in an order for 2 weeks of cheese to be delivered to the Inn, within the week. I watch the people around us, keeping an eye out for danger, while she efficiently goes through each stall finding exactly what we will need for our journey, and ignoring all the luxuries.

"How much bread? I was thinking a few days of yeast bread and a weeks worth of flat bread that can be softened in the heat of the fire." I nod, it is what I would have suggested. "I'll put an order in with the baker and have it delivered to the tavern in a week. Might as well start out as fresh as possible. We have salted beef, cheese, bread. What are we missing besides ale?"

"Do you need a bed, a tent, some warmer blankets, maybe plates and the like?"

"I have my cloak that will suffice, it always does. We'll eat with our hands, why would we take a kitchen with us?"

I don't know what to make of this woman. She is unlike any I've met before, easy to be around, practical, and thrifty. I didn't think such a woman existed.

"Let's get a treat."

She grabs my arm and drags me to a sweet bread cart to buy large round flat pieces of deep fried dough, dipped in buttered honey. Warm, soft, and sweet. I have a weakness for warm, soft and sweet things.

"You have some on your nose and on your cheek." She says with a cute giggle.

I try to wipe off the sticky goo and miss the spot. She is kind enough to reach up to remove the offending desert. Her fingers are warm against my skin and leave a tingle in their wake, a tingle I wasn't prepared for. I catch her eyes with mine and feel the blush in my cheeks.

"Ah, thanks."

"No problem." She smiles and I want it to remain on her face, forever.

"Did you want to look at the dresses or perhaps hats?"

That always puts a smile on my charge's faces in Perns.

She laughs at my suggestion, and I feel a bit lost. Her laugh isn't the annoying giggle of the court ladies. It is a deep belly laugh, a true, honest, laugh, that penetrates my soul, and I laugh with her.

"What would I do with a fancy dress or a hat?" She changes her posture and voice to mimic her stepmother. "Oh Logan! How do I look in this dress? It's the latest in Pern's fashion you know. Oh, but it's the wrong color for my perfect light skin, it would look better on someone with a darker unpleasant skin tone, like my new stepdaughter, don't you think? Get me another color, and while you are at it grab me another hat, bag oh and don't forget the shoes." She mimes looking in a mirror and flicks her hair with her hands, in a mocking fashionista way. "Don't you love shopping for clothes, Logan? I can't get enough clothes. How much for that dress? Oh seventy-five dollars? That's enough to support 6 families for a month. Who would want to do that, when they can buy this beautiful dress?" Her voice drips with selfish entitlement.

"You got it spot on"

"My shallow selfish stepmother, she can't get enough dresses. She'd put my father in the poorhouse to keep herself outfitted for court. Heaven knows my father wouldn't waste his money on dresses, no he spends all his money on horses." Her voice is filled with contempt and disgust.

"What would you have him spend his money on?"

"Schools and hospitals for the poor children. Clothes and food for the starving and cold, to start."

I choke on the bite of sweet bread in my mouth. I can't see any noble doing that, not even The Lord Justice, and he is charged with bringing the cares of the poor to the attention of the King.

"You don't agree?"

"No, no, it's not that. I just can't see that happening, ever."

"Too true, but we can hope, we can pray, and" she looks directly into my eyes with her challenging brown ones, "we can be an example for others to follow."

"No one would follow me." I turn, until I find a beggar on the street and flip him a couple coins, then looked around. "See, no one else will give just because I do."

"I will."

She quickly does the same and I watch in awe, as other people start to follow suit, dropping coins into the man's outstretched, dirty hands. It doesn't take long for the beggar to fill his pockets and leave with a smile on his face.

"Do you have magic?" I ask.

She must to get others to give money like that. Her face is lit up with the prettiest and brightest smile I've ever seen. It is genuine.

"No, but I do wear the robes of the church." She winks.

"The church doesn't give, it only takes."

"Yes, but everyone wishes it would give, so when they see me give, it inspires them." I can't argue with her there.

"And, what does the church think of your generous gifts?"

"As much as my father does. I'm starving let's go eat!"

# Mary

We are packing up the camp and moving out towards the markets in the Lowlands. Raif told me to pack up his things, oversee the packing of his tent, and ensure everything is done before it's time to leave. I assume that this used to be Rosa's responsibility and now, it has fallen to me. I do as I'm told. I am here to serve others with no thought of my own needs or wants.

I am Mary.

I put each item into trunks. I am careful with everything I touch. Books, papers, inks, brushes, combs, mirrors, lamps, and trinkets I've never seen before. I have no words to name them. His clothes. His bedding. His things. I'm his thing.

"Where you want this girl?"

I turn to the guard and see a young scared girl. I don't understand. I look for Raif. He is not here.

"Pardon?"

"This girl. Raif sent her to help you pack, where you want 'er?"

Oh. How thoughtful of him. Help. I could use some as my body hurts from the beating it took last night. He steps towards me and I instantly step back, my whole body goes tense and my arms are raised out in front of me. He takes another step towards me and I step back again, keeping the distance between us, the same. I am focused on everything around me, seeking out what will hurt me. My senses take in every sound, smell and movement to assess my situation. There is no one else in the tent, he steps towards me again and this time I scream. He steps back.

"What's the matter w' ya woman?"

I scream again and again and again. The man backs out of the tent, as Raif runs in and scoops me into his arms, before addressing the guard. I am shaking. Terrified of what will happen next. I bow my head into his chest and curl into myself.

"What did you do to her? So help me if you touched her-"

"I didn't. She just started screaming. Ask da girl ask da girl."

"Did he touch her?"

"N-na-no sir. Chiefta just started to scream. No reason."

"Out both of you, out."

I am lifted to the bed to sit beside him. I slip down onto my knees in front of him, awaiting my punishment. His hand is on my chin bringing my face up to look into his, I flinch. I don't mean to. There is pain and concern in his eyes. I wait. Wait for him to give me instructions. He is silent. I am silent. I do not know what he wants. He has not told me. I cannot tell from this silence. I am unsure about what to do to make him happy. Should I be doing something?

"Mary. No one will hurt you, OK?"

I should be terrified. This man beat me, raped me, and ordered others to do the same. I'm not. I have done nothing to displease him. I want to please him. Keep him happy. As long as he's happy, he won't hurt me. I don't want to think about last night. He takes my hands and pulls me up to sit in his lap. He holds me close smoothing my hair away from my face, as he rocks me back and forth. I close my eyes. He's so gentle. Tender.

"No one will hurt you. I promise. No one."

I nod. I believe him. I know he will only hurt me, if I displease him. Right now, I am safe and I want to stay safe so, I need to be good. I need to do as I'm told. I need to please him. If I don't he'll hurt me. I must be good. Don't think of what happened, of what he can do, just be in the moment. Right now, I am safe. Can't think of what will happen next.

# Logan

I bend my head and step into the dark smoky tavern of the Falcon Inn and stand there waiting for my eyes to adjust to the low light. I can barely make out the shapes in the room when I hear a voice yell out.

"Der he is, he da man that gave me the magic coins." The tavern goes quiet and I can feel all eyes turn toward me. "He gave me da coins an utters who always spit on me gave me coins. Dat how I get food an ale. Him with da magic coins."

"Got anymore of dose magic coins mate, I need em."

A voice from the back of the room shouts out and then others join him. Men are getting up out of their seats, hands out, demanding magic coins. I back away from them and hit my head on a beam.

"Fuck." I yell.

As I rub the back of my head, everyone backs away, fear in their eyes. This is what I get for being generous, a bump on the head. I turn to Margaret, "bring my dinner to my room." I turn to the Innkeeper, "you make sure she gets up there safe and sound, or you'll have me to answer to." For good measure, I shove him.

I'm sure he'll keep her safe. They've spent lots of time talking to one another, I'm certain they are good friends, and he wouldn't want harm to come to her. I push my way through the hopeful faces to the stairs and the security of my room. I closed the door, breathe, and turn the bolt.

"Bloody hell. What was that all about?"

I'm not expecting a response and nearly jump out of my skin when I get one.

"You gave." A voice says.

I turn, sword in hand and find no one. My room is empty.

"She gave." The voice says.

My eyes dart to the corners, the shadows, and the window.

"Then they gave." The voice again.

Fear wells up. My training and adrenaline keep it in check. I systematically scan the room, listening for the intruder, when suddenly, on the bed, one materializes. I almost fall on my ass from the shock of seeing a man appear, seated on my bed. I scramble up and start to strike at him, when my sword becomes a gigantic feather in my hand. Startled, I drop the feather, which clangs to the floor as my sword.

"Please sit." The man gestures to the only chair in the room. A small stool, which I fear will break under my weight. "We need to talk."

"Who are you? What are you doing in my room? And if you don't mind I'll stand."

"As you wish. I am a priest of the Church of Balla."

I can see that. The guy is wearing all white and is completely void of any color. His long hair, long beard, skin, and the orbs in his eye sockets, are white. No taint, no shade, only pure white.

"I got that. What do you want with me?"

"Margaret."

"Margaret? What about her?"

"She is young and has a big heart, bigger than her physical body."

"I've noticed."

"This heart is dangerous."

"I bet. Makes you and yours look bad."

"She inspires others to view the world differently, to act differently."

"I've noticed. So what do you want from me? Want me to stop her?"

"No. She must continue. There are others like her, but none inspires as she does. She is special." Something inside me warms at these words. I do find her intriguing, unique, and inspiring. Yes, she is special. "Many want to harm her. You are charged with protecting her. You must not fail. Her time has not yet come, but it will, and she must be able to full fill her destiny."

"I don't know about destiny or fates, that's your world. I know about swords and will protect her best I can."

"Not good enough." The priest's voice is loud, fierce, and threatening. I instinctively step back, both hands in front of me to deflect any attack. "You have to do better then your best. She must make it home to safety."

"OK. OK. I will protect her with my life if necessary." I hope it won't be.

"Good. I have some gifts for you. Set these stones around your camp and those that mean her harm will not see. Ensure she uses this cloak, it will protect her from harm."

"I don't understand."

"What don't you understand?"

"Why you want her protected. Isn't her way of thinking a problem for the church?"

"For some. For those who want things to stay as they are."

"Why do you care?"

"Soon it will be her time, soon our prophecies will be fulfilled, and soon our world will be healed. At that time, she will return to your world to inspire others as she has inspired you, to be better." She didn't inspire me to be better. I am no better then before I met her. "You are better because you gave."

"I was making a point." I spit back, angry that this priest has invaded my thoughts. I have no desire to help the man. "Besides our world is just fine, nothing broken about it."

"Point made and you will never be the same because of it." I say nothing, no use arguing with a priest. "Your dinner is here and I must return to the church. Remember she is vital, protect her." The old man slowly disappears in front of his eyes. Am I going crazy?

Knock! Knock!

"Mr. Reachie, it's me. I've got your dinner." What have I gotten myself into?

"Come in and join me." I lower myself onto the side of the bed hoping the priest is no longer there and watch her carefully as we eat. Who is she?

"This is for you."

"I have a cloak. Thank you anyway."

Hell. "Look, do me a favor and wear this one."

She eyes me with suspicion, picks up the cloak, and examines it very closely.

"How did you get this?" The suspicion in her eyes turns to complete distrust and I begin to doubt my visitor's true intentions. Damn priests you never can trust them.

"Some old white priest gave it to me." Might as well tell her the truth, it is her church after all.

"I told him I didn't need magical protection. Why do men never listen?"

She looks at me.

"How the hell should I know?"

"You're a man. You should know." That's women's logic for you.

"Probably the same reason women don't listen to men. Just wear it."

"I can take care of myself."

"Really? Then why am I here?"

"I told father I didn't need a babysitter, but he insisted."

"I ain't no babysitter." I yell. Instant anger flashes through me. I take a breath, clench my teeth and push the words out through them. "I am a hired sword, charged to protect you, which if the priest can be believed, you need me. For the sake of your life and mine - you'll wear the cloak."

"Men, you are all the same. I don't need you, go back to my stepmother, she's the helpless female."

With that venom filled statement, she stands up, leaves the room, and locks herself in hers.

Women, who needs them?

# Raif.

The slaves are moving at a decent pace. I ordered the men chained together, making it impossible for one of them to run off or to fight. Most slavers keep their wares beaten down, starving, too tired to flee, and when they get to market, they are skin and bones, crazed with hunger, and weak. I want my merchandise looking healthy, fit, and strong, so they will fetch a good price in the Terra markets, however, healthy, strong, slaves can get brave and run. Always need to make sure they don't run.

The landscape descending into the Lowlands is wider than the canyon with more room to run and lots of forest to hide in. I've learned, the hard way, to separate the men from their women and children. Those without family are guarded closely and if they are a flight risk, chained to a wagon. I do not tolerate any losses.

I've been doing this for ten long years and except for the first few trips, I have not lost one item, well, except to death. The first trip was a disaster. I'd lost all my supply before I even made it to Analeesia. I'd been too soft on them, didn't keep them moving. I made sure they had enough rest and food each day. One day, they up and ran for it. We ended up with a handful of weak and wounded slaves, I let them go, they weren't worth the effort to herd to market.

The next time we got to the mountain pass, before they fought back and ran into the woods. In the end, we were able to recapture enough to make the trip. Still, my father was not happy with what I'd brought him.

"I can't use these." He told me.

"It's all I could get."

"Not good enough."

Nothing I did was ever good enough, why did he think becoming a slaver would be any different? I hated the job. I hated killing people, enslaving them, and bringing them to him for his business interests. It didn't matter if I wasn't happy, if I hated what I was doing, or hated myself for doing it. All that mattered to him was that I did what I was told.

"I can't do this." I told him.

"You ungrateful... You can and you will."

"This is wrong."

"I pulled every string. I used every favor owed me to get you out of your mess. You will do as I tell you."

"If I am a slaver, I can never come back."

"Do it or die. Your choice."

Ice ran through my veins at these words. I knew he'd have me killed if I didn't do as he asked. He'd saved me from the hangman's noose for this purpose and if I wasn't going to fulfill my end of the bargain, I was of no use to him. His anger and pride would not let me live. I know my father well enough to know, he meant what he said.

I rode out of Perns that day, as Raif the Raider.

For ten years I've served my father and filled his orders. Sure, I've made a fortune for myself. I've also made a fortune for my father and my brothers. I receive no gratitude, only scorn. I am the youngest. I am the monster who killed our mother. I lost everything because I tried to do the right thing. I made the wrong choice and I've paid the price long enough.

# Mary

We left the field by the trail carved into the canyon wall on the opposite side of the field from where we'd come in. Once at the top, the road began to descend steeply towards the Lowland markets. Raif has kept me close since my public humiliation. He has been kind, attentive, and giving. I crave his attention. This makes no sense to me. I should want him to ignore me, put me back with the other slaves, I don't. I want to please him and keep him happy. It's become a deep seeded need and one that I hate.

The stronger, male field slaves are chained to each other, so that they will not escape. Bansha and Sanchie should have stayed at the field. They should have hidden more of them before we left. How are they going to save anymore? How are they going to lead them all home? It is not my problem. I do not care anymore. Besides, I cannot go and find them because I am chained to Rosa. It's a long, light, small chain that runs from the collar on my neck, to her wrist.

He'd ordered Rosa returned to him, after a couple days on the road. She is quiet. She no longer has an air of superiority over me. She is kinder. She is focused on pleasing Raif and jealousy runs rampant inside me, as I watch him pay attention to her and ignore me. I say nothing. I do not want to anger him. I wait. I serve. I stay invisible because that is what I am supposed to do. It's what pleases him the most. I need to please him so he will not punish me.

The road to the Lowlands is steep in places and the mountains here are different. They are not like the jagged teeth that swallowed us. They are rounder, greener, smoother. They rise up on either side of us, covered in a blanket of green trees, asleep. The further down we go, the higher they rise above us, and the smaller I feel.

In the mornings and late evenings, there is a heavy mist that hides wonders from my view. It is a magical place.

"Mary."

"Yes. Rosa."

"Here sit and eat with me."

We have stopped for lunch. I've served her and Raif, and was about to move out toward the end of my tether to await any needs they may have. At her words I cringe. I look to Raif, to see if he is displeased that she noticed me. He only nods and passes me some bread, which I take tentatively, before sitting beside Rosa.

"We will be at Terra by dinner time. We will camp there." Raif says and I nod. "I will take the field slaves to market." I nod again. "After a rest we will be off to Perns and your new home."

I say nothing. I have no choice. This is what will happen and there is nothing I can do about it. What I want no longer matters. It is best to want nothing. To feel nothing. To only exist.

It doesn't take long before we step out of the mountains. We step from their walls, into an open space where the sky goes on forever, just like at home. No not home. It never was my home. That was Drela's home. My home was the field, the mountain pass, and will be Perns. I look back at the mountains, there is a large building carved into the cliff high above us, what an odd place for a house.

"Best not to look back." Rosa says. I nod. "It is best to forget where you came from and only to where you are going. To your future. There is nothing back there for you. Forget it. Forget it all."

I only nod in agreement. She is right. There is nothing back there for me. There is no future either, there is only the now. What I must do at this moment to keep Raif happy and to please him. That's all that matters.

I wake before Raif and Rosa. I make my small bed in the corner of the tent and sit there waiting for them to wake and release me. I can't move much further away from them without waking Rosa with the tug of the chain. I hate it. They say if I am good in Perns and do not run or cause trouble, I will not have a chain around my neck. If I displease my owners, then I can expect to keep the chain. I do not want the chain. This is my life now. I must accept it, for now. I will sit, watch, and wait.

I will do what is asked of me. I will serve. I will be good. I will please my masters. I will wait.

I have never seen the Lowlands and am overcome with a feeling of discomfort. I am filled with the need to flee, and frustration because I can't. Ants crawl beneath my skin, making it hard to sit still, it feels like ants at least. My empty stomach is contracting and flipping around. I have to go. Something is coming and I need to flee.

"Morning Mary." Rosa is stretching in the bed beside Raif.

"Morning Miss."

She snuggles back into Raif's arms and I wait. Wanting to flee. Ill, because I can't.

"It's a big day today." She says. "We'll be busy."

"Yes Miss."

"Market day is always a lot of work to prep the merchandise, but after they leave, we can rest."

"Yes, Miss."

"Do you know what Market day is?"

"Yes Miss."

"Well, tell me."

"Raif will take the merchandise to the market to sell today."

"How do you feel about that?"

"I don't care Miss."

"Good girl."

I do feel though. I can feel Drela's frustration at not being able to help these people. I can feel her distress and anger. And yet, I also feel happiness at being called a 'good girl.' I know that makes no sense. I should not care if Rosa and Raif think I am good or not, however, it seems to be the only thing I care about anymore. I don't care about my future. I don't care about those being sold today. I don't care about Drela's feelings.

I am Mary and I live only to serve.

"Sir, we have rounded up the field workers and there is a problem."

Sero has entered the tent without permission, with this foreboding news. I look at him and feel nothing. His problem is not my problem.

"Sir. We have a problem."

Raif is awake now, raised up on his elbows, looking very angry. What can I do to make him happy? How can I relieve his distress? I don't know. I sit and await instructions.

"What?"

"We are missing ten field workers and forty children."

"What do you mean missing? Where are they, when did they go missing, and how?"

"No one knows sir, we all counted twice to be sure, checked the register to confirm the numbers and we are missing ten field workers and forty children."

"Too round of a number to be a coincidence, or an error. Any other groups?"

"No sir, just them two."

"Mary, where are your missing people?"

I feel panic. I breathe in deep. Basha and Sanchie did it. It isn't much, but at least some of Drela's people got away. I can feel Drela's happiness, her pride, her satisfaction at stealing these people from Raif, deep inside me. Her feelings fill me.

"Mary what did you do?"

"Sir, I do not know." Drela's feelings drain from me down into the box and are replaced by fear. I fall to my knees and bow my head. "I know nothing sir."

"I see it in your face, I see it in your eyes, you have stolen from me and for that you will be punished." I feel his fingers entwine with my hair. He pulls me up to my feet. My blood runs cold.

"Raif! Please listen." Rosa is beside him, her hands stroking, soothing and loving him. "Raif, she has been with us, she cannot possibly know where they are or how they escaped. You didn't know, Sero who counts them every night did not know, so how can she know? Punish her for what she does wrong, not for what others have done." She looks directly into Sero's face and then back to Raif, her eyes full of desire, "you want to break her, not destroy her. She is valuable now. She is perfect. She is exactly what your father asked for. Take the slaves to market and when you come back, if you still think she needs to be punished, I'll help you." She bit his earlobe and strokes his cock and I see Raif shiver. "If it pleases you."

"Ok my sweet, I will think on it."

He turns and gives her a rough kiss filled with passion, his eyes filled with love.

# Logan

I'd told Aleesa I'd be gone only 2 weeks. It's been over a week and we haven't even left Terra yet. She is going to be royally pissed and I can't blame her. Margaret spends her time either in her room here, at the Inn, or at the Church. When I dropped her off at the Church this morning, I asked if she intended to go to Analeesia, she turned to me and told me if I didn't like Terra I was more than welcome to go back to the Estate to babysit her stepmother.

"I'm no babysitter."

Babysit? Fucking bitch. I hate it when people think that's what I do. Babysit. I'm not a babysitter. Being a sell sword to the nobles of Perns means making sure the wives are safe, that they behave, don't embarrass their noble Lords, don't spend too much of their money.

I'm no babysitter.

I am a soldier. I was raised to be a soldier. I had a bright future as a soldier. Best not to think about what could have been. Choices were made and I paid the price.

"If you are so eager to get back to Aleesa, go. I don't need you here. I am perfectly safe."

"The priest said you weren't."

"Men. Always think you know everything, hardly matters if you have a cock or not."

OUCH. I cover my private area thinking of the priest's and the removal of their ball sacs. Neutering, what a horrible practice that is. Why would any man join the church? Even as a boy?

"Look. I just want to know. I like knowing the plan."

"I have almost completed my business here. In a day or two. Does that answer your question?"

"Yes. Thank you."

Why does she always have to be so defensive? I watch her disappear into the blackness of the Church, like I've done every day, wondering what she does in there, scared she won't come out again. The idea of losing her to the darkness makes me uneasy, as I walk back to the Inn to wait for her to be done her Church business.

I stop by the post on my way, I need to send a letter to Aleesa to let her know I will be a couple weeks longer than planned. If I don't, she might contact the Royal Patrol to search for me. Can't have the Captain and his boys wasting their time looking for me.

# Raif

Civilisation, finally!

I walk through the city of Terra watching people, people like me, well like the man I was supposed to be. I am so tired of life on the High Flatlands, of their primitive ways, simple food, and above all, sleeping in a tent. I want to live the city life again. To live amongst equals again. To sleep in a proper room again.

Terra is filled with activity. There are the peasants selling their wares and surpluses in outdoor markets. Their customers haggling for better prices. Everyone is going somewhere. The noise is deafening, as it comes at me from all directions, and I love it. Stoney Town, in the HighFlatlands, is a ghost town compared to Terra. Still, it isn't Perns and how I miss Perns.

The Flesh Dealer, who will make me a fortune, even after he's taken his cut, is in the far corner of Terra, far from polite society, a geographical reminder of how far I've fallen. His enterprise is on the furthest corner of Terra, where 'good' people never venture. It is surrounded by whore-houses, taverns, and junk dealers selling stolen goods. One can never be too careful in the street here, even I must watch my purse and my back because not even my size and my mask of violence will keep the thieves and cut throats at bay.

I walk into the Flesh Dealer's store, straight through without a word, out the back door. A short round man is standing on a raised platform in the middle of the empty auction square. Early in my career, I tried to cut the middle-man out to sell directly to the landowners for better profits, I ended up with an assassin on my ass, until I promised to never try to cut him out again. The man is ruthless. I swear there is not a drop of morality in him and he is my business associate, what does that say about me?

"Quince"

I give him a rough manly hug with the customary slap on the back. The man's brown hair is loose around his ears, his bushy beard hides his multiple chins and large flabby neck.

"Raif, Raif my boy! It's been too long. Come, come sit with me and have a drink." Slaves bring us wine to drink as we sit in the shade. "So, what brings you to Terra."

"Business, what else?"

"Terra has many pleasures and interesting sights. Just the other day a troop of the King's dwarves came and performed a hilarious play about some Lords and Ladies getting into all kinds of interesting situations. I believe the king may be trying to tell us something, but damned if I know what it is."

"Sounds entertaining, wish I'd been earlier." Not really. "When is the next auction?"

"Right to business, huh, you looking to sell?"

"Close to 300 field slaves."

I am short 10. I don't know how Mary did it, but she'd done it, I am sure of it. I saw the pride, for the briefest of moments, in her eyes. She is sneakier and more resourceful than I realised. My father will be very pleased. Rosa was right, Mary is the only one that can fill this unique order.

Ten field slaves and 40 kids are gone, it was a shock and I was furious at the time, now, I'm proud of her. She's proved that she is what my father ordered.

"300? I'll start by putting some of them into today's auction."

"Sero is at the city gates, he will take you to view them at our camp. I'll leave you to it."

"You're not staying?"

"I'll be back for the auction. Want to be around some civilized people first."

"You wound me."

"I do not you old flesh dealer."

"Auction is at 3."

"I'll be here."

# Logan

The Inn's daughter brings me my third mug of ale, with a twinkle in her eye and a blush to her cheeks. A little late to be blushing, I've already made her cum a number of times today, I did find a really nice ass under those skirts, and her breasts are decent enough, a little on the small side, responsive enough nipples to make up for it. She's a good fuck. I'll miss her company when we leave. I smile at her and wink, she blushes deeper, it's kinda cute.

The door opens and alarm bells go off inside my mind, lightening fast my hand is on the hilt of my sword. The man is huge. The shear size of him is enough to get my attention and his silhouette fills the doorway, letting very little light in. However, it's the way he holds himself, that has me wary, danger and violence has just walked into the room.

I track him, as he makes his way closer to the fire, and pushes a man aside to sit facing me. The fire lights the man's face from the side, enhancing the shadows of his square jaw, high cheekbones, and straight nose. His eyes are deep pockets of dark shadows beneath a straight strong brow framed by long black hair. Someone must have told a joke because the man laughs and I see the boy I knew once. Years melt away and I remember sitting by a different fire with a younger version of this man. I stand up and go to greet an old friend, one I haven't seen in ten years.

"Jackson." I push a farmer aside and take his seat. "Jackson. It is you man. What are you doing here in Terra?"

I look into his face, much like my own, except this face is weathered and rough. Time has not treated it well. We used to look like fraternal twins and now, he'd looks like my older brother. I can hardly believe that he's here in front of me. I want to touch him to see if he's real or just a figment of my imagination. An apparition formed out of my desire to see my old friend, my brother in arms.

"Logan? Logan is that you?" Recognition softens his features.

"Where have you been hiding yourself?"

"Here and there, recently in the High Flatlands."

"On your way home to Perns?"

I can't think of anything I would like more.

"If only. I fear I will never see Perns again. What brings you to Terra?"

"I work as a hired sword for the Count Della Terra."

"A hired sword? I would have thought you married to that Earl's daughter and settled in the North near her father's estate not babysitting the spoiled women at Court."

"She married someone else and moved on. And I'm not a babysitter, you ass."

"Are you sure about that? I seem to remember you making fun of more than a few of the overly entitled noble women's boy toys. Not a bad gig really with all that blueblood pussy."

"There is that." I wink at him.

"Come on a sell sword? You're kidding. You were supposed to be an officer. Families must be throwing their women at you for marriage."

"Nope. Lost my commission and now I protect the new Countess Della Terra."

"The new Countess? Who did the old coot marry?"

"Aleesa."

I smile as Jackson chokes on his ale. I knew that would surprise him. Pay back for the babysitter comment.

"Aleesa? How the hell? Wasn't there anyone younger to marry her to? Shit man, the guy must be old enough to be her father."

"Her grandfather. They just got married a couple weeks ago."

"A couple weeks ago? Was she widowed?"

"No. Never married."

"What? I was certain the Baronet married her off years ago. She was the best looking woman at court."

"She still is. Maybe if she'd behaved better, played the virginal good girl instead of being Aleesa. She spends most of her time at court pursuing her ambitions and those of her father, by any means necessary. The man is the Lord Magistrate now."

"What? How the hell did that happen? He has no business being the Lord Magistrate."

"Happened right after your trial."

"I thought the Count Della Terra was going to take that role. He is the king's cousin after all."

"The old King's cousin, and the old King died last year."

"You mean Preston is King? Shit."

"Didn't your Father tell you?"

"Father tell me? You know my father. I haven't spoken to the man in ten years."

"Maybe you can come back to Perns now. I'm sure the new King would pardon you and let you come back. He was a friend, of sorts."

"Preston wouldn't do me a favor, even if it meant his life, or do you forget all the pranks we played on him?"

"Trust me. I remember."

That's the best part of training in the army, everyone is equal, even the Prince of the realm and of course, Jackson and I took complete advantage, especially Jackson who was our unit's commanding officer. Now that I think about it, I'm lucky Preston didn't have me exiled as soon as he took the throne. Oh joy, another thing for me to worry about.

"Anyway. What's done is done, as they say. I've got a good life. I don't have my Father controlling my every move and telling me how big of a disappointment I am. I'm a free agent in this world. It's freeing. I thought exile would be terrible, it isn't."

Something flashes in his eyes. He's lying. He's never lied to me before. We never kept secrets from each other, ever. I trusted him to have my back, always, 'which is why you're a sell sword and not an officer,' a voice in my head says. 'You blindly followed him and look where it got you.'

"I could ask your Father to petition the new King on your behalf."

"Don't. He wouldn't help me, again. One favor is more than I deserve, according to him."

"Then I'll ask my parents."

"Don't bother, like I said life is good. So is Aleesa here?"

"No. She's back at the Estate. I'm escorting the Count's daughter back to the Church in Analeesia."

"Count Della Terra's daughter belongs to the Church? Poor girl."

"She's a Seer. Kind of a cold fish, you know the church type, all self righteous looking down on us sinners." Guilt twists in my gut. That's not true, she is kind, generous, and special.

"And you get to spend two weeks with her, walking through the mountains to their sacred sanctuary. I don't envy you old friend."

"Come with me and make my journey bearable."

I half hope he'll take me up on the offer. I've missed him. Plus, I am curious to know more about what his life in exile has been like. He looks as though he's been kicked around more then a few times.

"I just escaped from the High Flatlands and you want me to return? As much as I would love to spend time with an old friend I have business to the North to attend to as a hired sword for a northern tribe."

A sell sword outside of Perns meant being a real soldier, an actual sell sword, in a private army. Maybe I should think about becoming a real soldier again and searching for work outside of the realm.

I wonder what my father would say about that idea. When I lost my commission, I thought he'd hit the roof, I was wrong. He was supportive, relieved, happy to secure a position, for me, as Aleesa's sell sword. A close family is so important to him, choosing to leave, and venture out into the world alone, unthinkable. I probably should talk about it with mom first. He listens to her.

"Take me with you." I plead, without any conviction.

"Why aren't you in the army? You should be a General by now, what the hell happened?" He asks.

"I lost my commission, after your trial."

Jackson's whole body tenses with anger and takes on that dangerous edge I saw, when he walked in. I do not recognize this man. He is hard, mean, and evil.

"They kicked you out? All of you?"

"Yep. Better than exile. Better than jail."

"You were following my orders. You should not have been held accountable. I was told you would not be punished."

"Well the army didn't see it that way. They reminded us that our allegiance was first to the King and then to our commanding officer. I'm happy that the old King didn't charge us with treason. He agreed with the new Lord Magistrate that we didn't know anything, that we were following orders, nothing more."

"I still don't believe Christoph was plotting to kill the King. I've spent time with him in Jarous. I've talked to him. He claims he is innocent, set up, and I believe him."

"That's what got you exiled."

"Yeah well, it's been a good life and I'm happy, so I don't regret it."

He's lying. I wish he would trust me with the truth, like when we were young and close.

"Well. It's all water under the bridge or some shit like that." I say.

"Are you enjoying life as Aleesa's boy toy?" His voice has a cutting edge to it.

"It's not like that. We're friends. That's it."

"Really? I know both of you and neither one of you was very virginal back in the day. I'm certain that you aren't now." He says.

"Not even close. My tastes run to whores and the odd serving wench, not Aleesa and her ilk. Too many problems dipping into that spoiled and entitled pond." He laughs and holds his mug up to me in a toast like gesture in agreement. "Would you have married her if things had gone differently?" I ask.

"No. Father never would have allowed it. I'm sure he had his sights set higher than that for me and I screwed up his plans. She's done really well for herself marrying the Count."

"She isn't happy about it and it wasn't her choice. Her father's idea."

"I'm sure she'll make the best of it, comes with a nice title and a decent allowance I'm sure."

"Not good enough, her father will continue to support her outrageous spending habits. That women doesn't stop shopping."

"How does the Baronet have enough money? She always had the best of everything when I knew her, was always the best dressed at court."

"No idea. No one knows where all his money comes from. No one is brave enough to ask, now that he's Lord Magistrate, everyone just kisses his boots, and Aleesa's."

"She must be insufferable now. She was a spoiled prima donna when I was bedding her."

"She is Aleesa. I pretty much just step aside and try to ignore the headache that comes along with her."

"I'm happy to hear she landed on her feet, didn't doubt that she would."

"She would have rather married you."

"No, she wouldn't have. She was relieved when I left."

"She was not. She was devastated."

"She never came to see me. She didn't respond to my messages. She wrote me off the minute I wasn't of value anymore. Sounds like she ended up with a bigger pay day in the end anyway."

"Come on. That's not fair. It wasn't like that."

"It was. I don't want to talk about Aleesa anymore. So either change the subject or leave me in peace."

There is that dangerous edge again. That cut in his voice. I raise both my hands in surrender. The last thing I want to do is upset him, so we talk about life on the road, life as a real sell sword, and how I am thinking of a career change. I wish I could get him to understand how hurt Aleesa was by his exile. I guess it's water under the bridge anyway, she is married and he is still in exile. Best to let the past stay in the past.

# Raif

Time to make money.

The flesh dealer's square is filled with buyers and noise. I push my way through to the platform where I find Quince talking with some men, busy with commerce.

"Quince, good turn out I see."

"Raif. You're back. Brand and Robert, this is Raif the man who has filled our auction house to overflowing this week."

We greet each other and engage in a bit of shop talk, they are slave masters from nearby estates, here to fill their fields with fresh product because a few of their current stock expired. I can't help but wonder how they treat their slaves. Not many slave masters understand that if you care for them correctly, they will last longer. Too many beat their stocks down and then it expires too soon.

"Come Raif. The balcony is ready for you to watch the show. There is ale and food waiting. Come."

He leads me back into the shop and up the stairs, through the long dark hallway to a room with a clear view of the platform. Slaves have filled it with food, ale, and a whore on a bed, in case I get bored. We sit at a table on the shaded deck.

"You have brought me quality stock, as always. There is a lot of it too. I have sent word to all the Estates within riding distance and all those who keep slave buyers in the city. The Della Terra Estate's buyer is here. I will secure you an invite to his Terra home for dinner. I think you'll like this one."

"No. Don't bother. This is my last shipment."

"What? Raif. You aren't serious. You can't quit. I won't let you."

As soon as the man has spoken, I realize my error. To tell this man that I will no longer be bringing him his fortune, is suicide. How could I be so careless?

"Well. Lucky for you, neither will my Perns flesh dealer and he's ruthless. Just wanted to make sure you were paying attention, and you understand how much you need me."

"Don't scare a man like that. I could have had a heart attack. Raif you are the best there is and your stock is coveted by ever slave buyer in the Realm. To own a Raif slave has become a status symbol. We've even branded them with your mark to make them more valuable."

I close my eyes. Breath deep and feel the horror of it crawl through me. Branded with my mark, the name of a monster. I don't even have a mark. Branded. Every other slaver brands their stock the minute they get it. I never could stomach the practice. To know that it is being done in my name to remind them of whom they are to hate for selling them into slavery, disturbs me. I can't let Quinec know though. I must stay calm.

"Interesting."

"John. Come here show Raif your brand. See the pride in his eyes? They are lucky to have your brand, it makes them all that much more valuable."

I look into the man's eyes and I don't see pride. I see a cold hardness, one of hatred and a desire to kill me. I can't blame the guy. I want to kill me. The mark is a stylized R in a circle, if it wasn't being burned onto flesh I might have taken it for my own.

"I see. Though someone could have a brand like it made up and use it on any slave."

"Counterfeits. Yes some have tried. What we don't tell people is that each of your stock is tattooed with a number. On women we put it under the hair on their head, on men between their ball sack and anus. No buyer looks too closely at a man's cock area, not even a slave's. Each number is recorded in a book with details about the slave, height, eye colour, age, gender, arm length, leg length, that kind of thing. If the details don't match the number, it's a counterfeit and I send someone out to find the one who tried to steal your brand, to painfully kill them."

"I see. I'm flattered that you've gone to all that trouble."

"When there is quality in a brand, I must protect it. It is in my best interest if I am to sell the brand at a premium."

"Makes sense."

"Your timing couldn't be better. I believe we will make a killing on this shipment. There is a man here to buy warriors, fighters, for the wars in the North. You've brought me some good stock for him to bid on and drive up the prices."

"How long to sell off all my stock?"

"I should be able to sell it all in three to four days, maybe a week at most. I've got my men dividing the stock up making sure each auction day has a good value mix with the best items being advertised at each auction, but not for sale until everything else is gone. That should bring all the big gun bidders back on the last day. "

"I leave the plan in your capable hands."

"You're smart Raif. Too smart for this line of business, I think. Don't even think about leaving it. Without you, I'd be a pauper."

"Hardly. There are enough slavers to keep you swimming in gold."

"Ah, but none bring me the quality that you do, not even close."

"Well I guess we will see if my efforts pay off. Good, good luck man and may we be profitable today."

He leaves me to enjoy the room's activities, which I do, until I hear the sound of the auctioneer's voice prepping the buyers.

I sit on the balcony watching, as the weakest and least desirable are brought up first. Turned this way and that, clothes stripped to reveal muscles or I should say, a lack of them. Lips forced open to show off teeth and then the bids started.

Bidding is slow. The first slave went for $10, not bad, considering he was on the smaller side. As the event progresses and the larger more valuable slaves are brought out, I begin to see a more profitable return on my investment. It is rare for a prime quality field hand to go for over $50. Today, the average quality stock is getting closer to $70, with the few prime specimens, being sold today, fetching closer to $90. Field slaves are in high demand.

Once the auctioneer has left his podium, the square has emptied, and the last of today's stock is lead away by their new masters, I go to find my take for the day.

"Quince, I'm very happy with the result, but why are the prices so high?"

"War Raif War! The landowners need more slaves, so they can grow more of the food. The King will need to feed his soldiers. He is going buy food and lots of it. New fields are being cleared daily."

"War?"

"The New King, he is flexing his muscles and it is only a matter of time before Cadonia will push Eledonia back. It is only a rumour. You know the rumour of war is more profitable than war itself."

War brings opportunities. Opportunities for me to find profit elsewhere, a chance to become a man again, to leave the monster behind.

# Mary

Drela emerges and we sit beside the tent, thinking about the 50 who got away, hoping Brathoid would be proud. We quietly get on my knees to pray to him, if one can pray to the gods surely one can pray to a spirit, a soul, a loved one remembered.

'Brathoid, I hope that what I could save was enough. I failed you my love, there are still hundreds left to a life of slavery, help them to adapt. Beseech the Gods for us, Brathoid, ask them for kind hearted masters for your tribe. Watch over our son and our daughter. I am so sorry I could not protect them. I miss you my love.'

I kneel there a long time remembering my life as Drela and how happy we were together, as a family. The feeling of being held by the man I love. The feeling of holding our children and suckling them at my breast. Remembering our life together on the High Flatlands in our round hut, with our people all around us. A life I will never have again.

Rosa breaks my daydream with a hard slap to the face. My mind races what did I do wrong. What did I forget?

"Have you not yet learned to hide your thoughts, your feelings? Come into the tent you need training."

I pull back. I've let Drela out of her box to remember, to feel, to pray and I haven't had time to put her back. I start to panic. My breaths came fast. My heart is jumping out of my chest. Drela needs to go away, I need to be Mary, just Mary. Mary must be all that is left. It was stupid to let Drela out. A hand is petting my head gently a 'sh' sound is in my ear.

"I did not mean to scare you Mary, I am not going to punish you. We will talk."

I start to breathe deeper, start to settle, as I follow Rosa into the tent.

"Mary, I know you are scared for your people, but you don't have to be. Raif will take care of them and they will have good positions in good homes when we get to Perns. Those sold here today, well as long as they work hard, and don't cause trouble, they will be fine."

'Fine? Fine? A life in a whorehouse is fine? Hard work in the fields with no joy of a family is fine?' Drela's thoughts permeate from the box. I only nod at Rosa.

"The whorehouse is top notch and treats its girls we'll, I visited it on our last trip. Raif will only sell to high-end whorehouses, because they pay top dollar for his product. They know his product is well trained and well behaved."

"I trust he knows what is best."

"Good. Now did you know your people were going to run?"

"No. I was with you." I hope that she cannot see through my lie. "Last time I was with them everyone was counted for. No one was missing."

"That's what I was afraid of. I think Raif's punishment with your son watching was too humiliating, too public. Most will do nothing because of fear, but go too far and some will find the courage to run. It is odd though that it was the kids who found the courage to run. Where is your son?"

"I do not know. I haven't seen him since the night Sir punished me in front of him."

"I know that. What I find interesting though, is that you haven't asked to see him and he hasn't come looking for you either."

'She knows. I doesn't know how, but she knows I knew.' Be cautious and answer correctly, right now she only suspects, she's not sure, she is fishing. Don't give her reason not to believe you are telling the truth.

"I shamed him. I cannot look at him. I do not deserve a son. He knows this. He is ashamed of me, and wants to forget me, for the best, don't you think?"

"I sent a guard to get me your son and he cannot find him. He is gone. Where do you think he got to?"

"I do not know where he is. I shamed him, his sister, and the memory of his father. Any boy would run away from a mother like me." Tears start to flow out my eyes and down my cheeks, although I feel nothing. "My babies are gone. Both gone. My son is probably dead because he could not survive on his own. He is lost in the mountains!"

I am trying to show the horror of only now discovering Josia's disappearance, it isn't good enough, Rosa will see through deception, she needs to see real pain of loss. I dig deep to open the box wider. I feel Drela's loss, I feel her pain, her tears break from my eyes, and her sobs escape through my mouth, letting the pain of her loss flow out of me. Rosa comforts me, stroking my hair, wiping the tears from my face, holding me.

"I am so sorry, Mary, I am so sorry."

# Logan

I watch Margaret, as she reads her book by the firelight of the tavern. The warm glow of light, as it plays with the strands of hair that have escaped her braid and fall wild around her face. She is a pretty girl. Memories of Aleesa spring to my mind, from a time before the trial, before our lives were forever changed.

Aleesa is so different from Margaret. As a young woman Aleesa was the court beauty, full of life, with friends always orbiting her, as if she were the sun, hoping for her attention to fall on them. As a young woman in love, Aleesa radiated joy, her eyes shone with love whenever Jackson was around and he seemed as smitten with her. She worshiped the ground he walked on and they were everything to each other. I never thought for one minute that the two of them wouldn't be together, when you thought of one, you automatically thought of the other. It never occurred to me that Jackson's father did not support the idea of them marrying. I was young and naïve, I guess.

Kind of like Margaret is.

She is quiet, calm and reserved. She is filled with ideals, a deep belief that she will change the world for the better. The world will disappoint her, hurt her, perhaps even destroy her. I wonder if her father will help her pick up the pieces of her shattered hopes? I know Alessa won't be, she revels in other's disappointments. She wasn't always so heartless, it's just that, Aleesa's hopes, like mine, were shattered and scattered to the ends of the earth, forever changing us into cynics. Like they say, sorrow enjoys company.

"Yes Mr. Reachie, can I help you?" Margaret asks, her eyes on mine, catching me staring at her.

"No. No. Just thinking."

"Of what?"

"That we should be leaving tomorrow. We've been here long enough."

"We can't something has come up and we must stay for another week or so."

"No. I was told to escort you to Analeesia and that's what I intend to do. Not hang around here. I heard talk in the tavern that a Raider is in town. It's time we left before you do something I can't protect you from."

When I heard talk at dinner about a Raider bringing slaves in for auction, I got a bad feeling. I remembered what Margaret had done in her father's fields when faced with the realities of slavery in our country. I don't want to know what dumb thing she'd do if she came across a slave auction or worse, a slaver. Raif has a ruthless reputation, to kill first and never ask questions. He is merciless. News of him being here will travel fast and every slave buyer will be here soon and the Falcon Inn is too close to the auction house to stay.

It is time to get out of here.

I want to be gone by morning.

"That is why I need to be here. To speak out. To be the voice of reason."

"That will get you killed. We leave tomorrow."

"You cannot tell me what to do. Leave if you want, but I stay here."

She shut her book and stomped up the stairs. I have no idea how to get this girl to do what she's told, noblewomen listen to men, and do as they are told, Margaret does the opposite. It's enough to drive a man to drink.

"Ale Wench. Ale."

# Raif

Sero and his guards are prepping the next batch of slaves for sale, washing them cutting their hair, packaging them. This enterprise is almost complete and the profits are significant. No matter what Quince and my Father threaten, I am quitting. Maybe I'll go south. If war is coming, there will be work for a sell sword to protect families and property from opportunists. There is good honest money in that. I could protect someone for a change. I've had enough of ruining lives, I'm sick of Raif and what he stands for.

Maybe I'll free Rosa. Give her some money to get herself a place, a life of her own, a respectable existence. Would she choose to go with me, or run like the wind from the man who had owed her for so long? Probably run.

Rosa comes through the tent flaps and my heart skips a beat at the sight of her. Yes, I'll free her, give her a fortune, and hope for the best. Maybe she will choose to be with me.

"Raif, I need to talk to you about Mary."

"What has she done now?"

Right Mary, I'd forgotten about her little betrayal.

"She had nothing to do with the escape. I thought she had, but turns out she thinks her son is dead."

My heart sets off a shock that rams into my chest and fills it with panic.

"Dead, how?"

"She thinks he ran away that night, from the shame of seeing her beaten and naked. She thinks he ran into the night and an animal killed him. She is very distraught."

Dead. Her boy is dead. It's my fault. My anger me drove me to do something so shameful, so public, with the boy sitting at centre stage to see it. What have I done?

"Are you sure?"

"No one has seen him since that night. She has no idea where he is and if her people organised his escape, they would have sent her a message to not worry."

"That's true." Too true, my fault. Guilt stirs. Guilt, my only true companion, as much a part of me as my sword arm. The guilt, always there, under the surface of consciousness, rises up once again to overwhelm me. "Rosa, what have I done?"

"We have to keep her away from the other slaves."

All the more reason to get rid of the field slaves now. They were the largest in size and most worrisome. The bulk of them had been chained because they were the warriors, the fighters, those who couldn't be broken without shattering them into a thousand pieces.

"Where is she now?"

"I've placed her in a tent with the governess. She is teaching Mary, to read to keep her mind off her son."

"I doubt her mind has been far from either of her children. You're right though, she has to be hidden away as much as possible, until after the bulk of the slaves have left."

I am surprised to find my heart is hurting for her, that I am concerned about her happiness. A deep sadness has overcome me and I feel a strong need to protect her from any further harm. I know, I am the only monster to have harmed her, still, I can't help it, I want to protect her, shield her, comfort her.

As far as I'm concerned, her training is over, she is not to be touched or hurt in anyway ever again.

# Logan

Women.

I thought I understood them or at least was getting better at it. This one is nothing like the tittering game playing ones at court. This one is - I don't quite know what she is.

She is damn frustrating is what she is. I sit back down on my bed trying to figure out what to do, how to get her to leave Terra. I am still awake in the middle of the night, trying to get her out of my head, when I hear a noise through the wall, coming from her room.

I knock, I do learn from my mistakes. There is no answer. I take a key, for her room, from my pocket, and as I finish turning the bolt, she screams. I burst through the door, sword drawn, to find her struggling with a dark shape.

Moonlight comes through the broken window, a glint off a knife raised over Margaret, catches my eye, and in two quick strides, I slide my own blade deep into a man's side. I feel it slip beneath the ribs and move through to the other side. The assassin turns his head to me, surprise, shock, and death, flash across his face. I pull my blade up cutting into the man's back, blood flows from the wound, like a river, as I pull it from the dying intruder. I grab the dead weight in one fist and throw it into the corner, as I survey the room for other attackers.

The room is empty.

"Are you hurt?" I ask, she is covered in dark blood.

"It's not mine. I'm unhurt." She is shaking.

"Now do you know why you need the likes of me? He wasn't even that big." She sits in silence, staring at her blood soaked clothes and I don't feel the need to berate her, she obviously got the point, almost literally. I turn, lock the door, and while facing it, tell her to get cleaned up.

We are leaving.

# Next Installment – Change
