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Action, adventure, a little romance and a twist. What more could you want? R&R Please! |
******* Special note to Reader ******* Eat more pudding. Cheers, ryc ************************************* Back to: "Chapter 4 - A Gold Crown (1st Pass)"  The jog wasn’t long enough for John and he regretted having to end it when he came to his door. The cool northern air had felt great after his sparing with Waylon. Upon entering his quarters, he unbuckled his da’kka and tossed it onto the sofa that took up the sitting room. He was already feeling himself at home. Walking into his bedroom, he stopped dead in his tracks. Mia was sprawled on the ground as if someone had just backhanded her. Her hair fanned out across her face and parts of her body were exposed that shouldn’t have been. John’s eyes climbed up from the woman and found Celia holding Mia’s gold crown, anger in her eyes. Oh no… Celia turned to John but before she could open her mouth, he raced to Mia. Ignoring the feeling of Celia’s eyes glaring at him, he knelt before his servant. Closing her robe, he pulled her curly hair back from her face. She had slapped her. Anger boiled in him, but he coaxed it out from his voice before he spoke. “This is my fault. Are you okay?” She only nodded. He gently took her chin in his hands and turned her head to look at the red hand print--he winced. The woman had slapped her hard and, by the look of it, more than once. John turned her head so she could look at him but she averted her eyes. “You have nothing to be ashamed of,” John said coldly. “I caught her stealing. You really should keep an eye on your slave-“ Celia began but stopped abruptly when John shot up from his crouched position. “I gave her that crown, you ignorant blueblood!” John roared as rage flooded into him unexpectedly. “You have no right barging into my quarters and disciplining my servant. If you so much as lay another finger on her--or refer to her as a slave--I swear by the Gods I will put you on my knee and turn you ass cherry, mentor or not! Do I make my self clear?” the Sergeant in him howled. The woman had the decency to- Celia paled visibly before anger replaced it. “You did what?!” John didn’t have the patience to dignify her with an answer. “Out!” he roared, pointing to the door. Mia was wide-eyed by now and looked horrified. Celia, on the other hand, was as furious as he was. She was about to speak her mind but faltered under John’s frosty glare. Clamping her mouth shut, she walked out. After John heard the door slam, he turned away from the sitting room and tried to rein in his temper. Noticing Mia for the second time, he stalked over to his saddlebags and pulled out a small jar. Mia was just getting up when he reached her. “She had no right to hit you.” John said tightly. Unscrewing the jar he tipped two fingers into it and pulled out a generous amount of the numbing cream. “This will help the sting.” He gently smeared some on her cheek and she winced. After he pulled away, she lowered her head. “I have shamed your house Master.” Oh bloody hell. Lifting up her chin, he forced her to look him in the eyes and gave her a warm smile. “How could you possibly have done that? And what did I tell you about lowering your eyes to me?” She stiffened and slowly shook her head, wide eyed. “This isn’t right, Master.” “Don’t be foolish, woman.” John chided. “I already told you, I am not your Master. You are free from any contracts you signed when Celia bought you. You’re a servant to me and a very well paid one at that. You do wish to serve me, don’t you?” Mia’s eyes went even wider. “Of course, Master! I would be honored to serve under you house!” She touched her cheek softly before saying hesitantly, “Bu-But it’s not my place to be--paid. You own me. I had agreed to serve you the day Mistress Celia bought me.” She shook her head as if it were blasphemy. “I do not wish to be paid Master. I truly just wish to be your slave. I am honored you wish to free me but I made a promise upon my House and doing otherwise would shame me too greatly.” Strangely, John realized it was the most she had ever spoken to him. Pondering for a moment, he said slowly, “I will make you a deal.” Choosing his words carefully, he treaded lightly. “If you will look me in the eye and call me John- and talk more for bloody sake…. I will take back my offer and you can become my slave. But you must keep the gold coin as--as a reminder, of our deal.” He felt like he was getting everything and she less than nothing but it was the only thing he could think of. At least, he could give her a gold crown for it and perhaps later he could give her another… “A deal,” she played with the words thoughtfully. For once, her face lit up and, even with the red handprint, she looked beautiful. “I- I will raise my eyes to you and…” She gave an amused smile, “talk to you more, and even the crown I will keep. But I will not strip you of your title.” John gave a sigh, Master it is then. He held out his hand. “Deal.” Mia looked at his outstretched hand with hesitation. She certainly hadn’t thought she’d be making a bargain with her Master. After a silent debate, she finally extended her hand out. His hand engulfed her delicate hand and he became acutely aware of her robe lying open. The woman was naked underneath it. Celia is going to pay dearly for this. Mia turned his hand in hers and bent down low to kiss the back of his hand. “I accept Master.” His face heated and he averted his eyes. “Perhaps we can get you to wear something less--exposing.” Mia smiled at his blush and tied the strings to her robe shut. “That, Master, you couldn’t bargain your House with.” John didn’t want to know what that meant but he felt like he had an understanding with her. Mia hesitated again. “How was your walk, Master?” She was trying to ‘talk’ more--he smiled. “It was nice, thank you,” and then he remembered this morning. “If anyone comes in, let them wait in the sitting room--unless their names are Wes or Baine, then you lock the door and wait for me. I don’t trust those two, yet.” She nodded with an odd smile. “I thought I told you to have the day off.” “You said you would clean up after yourself.” Mia shot back at him. “Fair enough,” he sighed. “Mistress Celia wanted me to tell you that tonight is the Novice Celebration and to wear your black uniform…It is at sunset. Are you going?” John rolled the idea of not going but his curiosity got the better of him. “I’d better.” Mia only nodded before asking with a frown. “Have you eaten lunch? And your boots need to be polished again. You are dirty as well--I’ll prepare your bath for you. Did you enjoy your breakfast this morning?” John started to regret asking her to talk more. She was turning into a nattering wife. Mia had insisted on washing him, against all of his protests. The experience of the bath was more than just awkward to John. It was… ridiculous. After the bath she dressed him (another awkward moment that he didn’t think he’d ever get use to) and brought him lunch, were he forced her to sit down and eat with him. The day wore on as John lazily napped through the afternoon. He listened to Mia humming a lulling tune while she cleaned his boots and anything else she could get her hands on. She strangely took great pleasure in cleaning. Almost as if she hadn’t ever done it before and found it all fascinating. Waylon stopped by a few minutes before the celebrations started. John had been oiling his sword and Mia had been stitching up a hole that had somehow torn open during his morning escapade. “I see you have domesticated yourself,” Waylon noted as he watched the pair, a frown creasing his face. John wiped the blade clean and sheathed it before he leaned it up against the wardrobe. “We finally have an understanding,” John agreed. “What’s the frown for?” Waylon’s frown deepened before he leaned against the doorway. “Celia came and found me shortly after your conversation.” “Ah.” “I think you should apologize.” John had rolled the idea over in his head since the incident. In a twisted way it wasn’t her fault and he had been harsh…But he wasn’t about to roll over backwards for her either. “I think the person who should be apologizing is her, to Mia.” John walked over to the wardrobe and removed the shirt he’d brought from his old quarters. Mia sprung up and pulled the dressier uniform away from him before he could grab it. Grunting he held out his arms for her. This really is silly. “But it’s not your place to be playing messenger boy. I’ll talk with her tonight, I promise. What is this celebration about?” Mia helped eased him into his new black boots and began lacing them up. With a sigh Waylon said, “All the new Novices and their mentors are thrown a banquet the day before classes start by the Head Mistress. It’s held in the Court. Glyn, my mentor, said it is one of the most highly anticipated events of the year. We should probably be leaving now.” “Nina is on her way already?” He laughed when Waylon’s gave him a startled innocent look. John straightened his shirt uncomfortably, he wasn’t use to silk. “Lead the way. Mia, you are coming right?” Hearing her name, Mia jumped a little. “Of course, Master.” She hadn’t planned on it, he knew, but he wanted to get this Celia business taken care of. They met Dylon in the common room. He only glanced at Mia trailing behind them. “About time. I hear the entertainment is as good as the food.” He flashed them one of his mischief smiles and John’s curiosity went up a notch. Waylon, still in a bitter mood, walked passed Dylon and led the way to the Court. Ignoring the Ce’lian in front of them, Dylon said, “Tallen’s been pruning himself since lunch for this. He hadn’t seen Celia since he left her a year ago.” That perked John’s ears up. “They’re married?” Waylon asked. “Tallen?” Dylon laughed. “He wishes. His House is lower than hers, in Ghourd, but he’s been trying to get her interests since they had risen to Slayers last year. Only thing is, he had to head out almost immediately after being raised to Slayer to find me. I haven’t seen him so nervous.” Dylon was thoroughly enjoying his slave driving mentor’s discomfort. They rounded the corner to find the Court bustling with activity. As John had expected, it was just as grand and luxurious as the rest of the palace. Designed like a royal court, pillars lined the main walkway that lead to a large half moon shaped table. John figured them to be the VIPs of Tekal. His eyes roamed along the pillars and beyond them. The main walkway was brightly lit so it took him a moment to realize that there were hundreds of tables all around them. Every one of the tables was filling up with Slayers and Devotes… and he felt every eye turn to him. On the far walls, to either side of John, were alcoves full of musicians and performers. Everywhere he looked, he saw jugulars and acrobats performing between the tables. Men on stilts with various costumes loomed over whole tables at a time and occasionally John saw a burst of light from the mouth of a fire eater. Above them hundreds of lanterns hung from long black chains that dotted the vaulted ceiling. He pulled his gaze from the hundreds of lanterns back to the crescent shaped table. In front of the table was another, smaller one, shaped similarly. John found Celia spaced out between seven other Slayers along the smaller table. They were to sit with their mentors. Great. John caught Mia’s eye and he directed his gaze toward the wall closest to the honored table. She gave a slow nod--her eyes trying to take in everything at once. As they strode toward their table, John saw Wes, Baine, Nina and Cedrick already at their places. Waiting on us? Even better.. Waylon and Dylon caught on as well and they all walked a little faster. The walkway really was long. John looked for another chair besides the one next to Celia, but it was obvious that they wanted the students to sit next to their mentors. As he pulled the chair back, he caught the tail end of her conversation with another man across from her. Laughing close to tears, Celia said, “I’m glad to hear that your father is well. I hope to see him again some day.” Upon seeing John, she stiffened slightly and the laughing lines on her face disappeared. Formally, and almost regretfully, she said, “Tallen, this is John, my student. John, this is Slayer Tallen Dreyc’n.” John nodded at the man and immediately thought, Northern people must all be pretty. Tallen flinched slightly at the sight of John’s scars but smiled politely. “Good evening,” the man said just as formally as Celia had. Without thinking, John sighed audibly before murmuring something halfheartedly in return. He looked toward the large table across from them but the people there were still talking quietly amongst themselves. Dylon, who’d been sitting next to Tallen, caught the mood of the table and gave John a sympathetic smile. Thinking to lighten the mood, Dylon said, “So John, Waylon says you are in the--Vanguard is it? I’m afraid I don’t know much about the Empire or their military.” He could have killed Dylon right there. Seeing that the question had caught the attention of Tallen, John grudgingly said, “The Empire has four Guards: the Red Guard, the Green Guard, the Black and the Vanguard. Each guard has a specialty, the Reds are the footmen while the Greens are the archers and the Blacks are the cavalry. The Vanguard’s are the only ones who are mixed…If a war was to break out, we’d be the first ones in.” Waylon, who had been listening from the other side of Celia, barked a laugh. “He’s playing modest! I’ve never heard of a modest Vanguard before!” To Dylon he said, “Vanguards are the elites of the Empire’s Guard. Everyone tries to sign up but few can even past their tests.” Taking a swig of his wine he continued, “Hell I’ve seen one Vanguard take on a whole camp. Like a ghost, the bloody man killed everyone without a single sound. Man gave me the creeps.” Shuddering he smiled. “What I’m interested in is how you became Sergeant of the 1st Battalion of the 1st Brigade. I figured they’d want a--blueblood? Is that what you call us?” John grounded his teeth. “Only when you piss off a peon,” he muttered. Taking a drink of his wine, he made a point not to look at Celia. Tallen perked up a little at this. “You aren’t of a House?” The man’s smile was almost condescending. “No I’m not,” he said as casual as he could. “I did not mean to offend,” Tallen’s face was a perfect display of honesty. “I myself have dined with many Captains in my army who weren’t of a House. They are a much livelier group than--bluebloods was it?” He too was amused at the word. In my army? The man has his own bloody army? And peons who are Captains? John thanked the Gods when a Kalian woman at the head of the moon shaped table stood. Like a tidal wave, silence followed her. “Thank you all for coming to this Celebration,” she began. “Today we celebrate our seven new Novices who will begin their training. This is seven more of our kind found and for that we must celebrate!” Cheers erupted from the now full room. “Before we begin,” the woman said as the cheers died down. “I want to thank the mentors who have taken upon their duty to train these Novices to become Devotees. Good luck, you will need it.” The crowd around their table politely chuckled and some of the mentors colored--not Celia. She was making it clear she didn’t want to acknowledge John’s existence more than she already had. “Enough said. Let the Celebration begin!” the Head Mistress bellowed. At the Head Mistress’s cue, along each column men and women in tight fitting clothes slid down long flowing strands of cloth that suddenly fell from the ceiling. Stopping half way, the performers began synchronized twists and turns. Music began up again and cheers from all around them filled the room. Everyone was grabbing for their glasses of wine and laughing with their comrades. He’d heard of the Head Mistress and had seen her picture painted along some of the hallways but had never thought to feel such power from a single person. He couldn’t explain the feeling. He wanted to ask Celia but he was too stubborn to be the one to break the silence between them. She looked ready to spit nails. All he knew of the leader of Tekal was that she was one of the few Slayers older than 800. Waylon was attempting a conversation with Nina, who sat across from him, while Dylon sparked up a conversation with Slayer Glyn, a Kalian of all things. Waylon’s mentor, being of the country Waylon fought every day against, must have been a shock to him. Tallen and Celia were laughing about something and John found himself alone. It fit his mood. Feeling someone behind him, he turned to see Mia with a plate of food. “Eating gives you an excuse,” she murmured softly. He could have kissed her. Taking the food and thanking her, he bent down to work. To his surprise, he felt a light hand rest on his forearm. “We haven’t met. I’m Priscilla Dayton, Cedrick’s mentor,” a beautiful Capri woman said. She could have been Mia’s sister. Feeling like a fool, he quickly swallowed his chicken. “John,” he said simply. “Forgive Celia, she has been in a mood of late,” the woman whispered in his ear. John winced. “I believe it has something to do with me, I’m afraid,” he whispered back. “A misunderstanding on her part and I said some things that I shouldn’t have.” Priscilla smiled warmly. “I know, I heard. She can be as stubborn as a mule. Give her time.” John felt more than saw Celia stiffen. Heightened hearing, of course. Priscilla winked at him knowingly and went back to her own food that had been brought to her by a half-naked man. All around him, half undressed women laid down trays of food and flirted freely--men too, for that matter. He never felt more alone in his life. “I’m sorry,” Celia whispered after a time. Tallen had turned to take a glass of wine from a serving girl. “As am I,” John breathed in relief. While she may be stubborn, he wouldn’t have apologized until she had first. “And I owe your…servant one as well,” Celia said forcefully. John dropped his fork against his full plate, hunger suddenly evading him. “We came to an agreement. She is my slave again.” Tallen, with his new wine glass in hand, smiled warmly at Celia with glazed eyes. “I miss dancing with you. Come! Come! We will show these stiff legs how it’s done!” Celia bit her lower lip and John waved her to go. “You only get a chance to dance once,” John said with a grin--at least he hoped it was a convincing grin. When Tallen whisked her away, John grabbed his glass and a bottle of the wine before excusing himself from the table. The atmosphere wasn’t matching his mood. Mia trailed behind him silently as he left the room at a slow walk. When he reached the Ring, the sounds of celebration slowly died away behind him. Booze in hand; he let the sudden home sickness over take him. “Homesick?” A familiar voice said from behind him. Turning he found Nina, the short, petite, long black haired woman standing behind him with those piercing blue eyes. Her gaze unnerved him to the point that he didn’t know what Waylon saw in her. “Is it that obvious or do I have a sign posted on me somewhere?” John grumbled. “Why are you out here anyways? Shouldn’t you be dancing with a certain pretty boy I know?” Shrugging she took up walking next to him toward their room. “Cedrick has a wife and three sons. It is hard on him- all of this. He is finally enjoying himself for once and I think I remind him of his past. Besides, you look like you could use the company.” “That’s not who I meant,” he muttered. John couldn’t imagine how it would feel to find out that he’d outlive his wife and kids--and their kids--let along leaving them for a few years. Nina gave him a hidden smile. “Part of the fun is in the chase.” Grunting John took a sip of his wine. It really was excellent wine. “How about you, do you have a love interest or a sweetheart back home?” He laughed bitterly. “I’m married to my soldiering, girl. The day I find a woman attracted to this beaten body will be the day hell freezes over. Besides, I have two silver marks to my name right now. The Empire is all I have no matter what kind of money these people throw at me. Now--Well, now I don’t even have the Vanguard.” He took another long draw from his glass, killing it. “If I ever get back to my men, they will be under the only man I ever called a friend and I couldn’t take that away from him. So…” John tried letting the thought die. He hadn’t expected the last part to come out of his mouth. “You aren’t going back and you have no future planned?” Nina asked quietly. When John didn’t say anything, she said, “My father, he is - powerful in my land. If what I hear from Waylon is true, I’d be honored if you’d consider coming back with me when this is over- if you decide against being a Slayer.” John paused at the door to the common room. “You won’t be staying once you have reached Slayer?” He had thought everyone dreamed of being a Slayer. “Cedrick will want to go back but he’ll not leave without me. He is too dear of a friend for me to think otherwise.” John truly admired her and when he said so she blushed. Opening the door for her she walked passed him. Halfway into the room she turned around and kissed him on the cheek. “You are a sweet man. I’m glad I was given the chance to be your friend. See you tomorrow, John Wyden. Mia.” Mia gave a gasp. He vaguely recalled something about not address one’s slave, but his mind was jumbled with wine and his cheek tingled. Waylon, you are in trouble. "Chapter 6 - The Fan (1st Pass)" |
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