Nylla, of course, never wanted to be a prostitute. But It fed her horse. Once she could get Barty looking healthy, she could start studding him out. And once she could do that she could start living. She had been in this cycle for twelve years. She did what she had to. She survived.

Mauln Halnt had paid for her that evening. With the agreement that he would at least entertain the idea of letting Barty mate with some of his stock. She was unsure if it was irony, or some cruel fate, that she had been hired by the reason she was a prostitute. The Tyrant had not tried to bed her, yet. So far he had only watched in an armchair as his son tried to prove his manhood to him. Nylla feared what she might be compelled to do if he did touch her.

Mauln Halnt’s dark eyes shifted from her and then to his son. Lekin sat crying on the floor next to the bed. Nylla lay on her back mostly exposed; her shift still covering her pelvis, not that she cared for decency anymore. She was pretty enough to be a prostitute, not that one had to be exceptionally pretty for that. She thought herself as perfectly average in all aspects. Living in small villages had a tendency to cause you to look perfectly normal. It was not what Nylla looked like that bothered. It was what laid deeper.

What I have seen- Nylla thought wishing she had something to smoke. -Would end most men. Nylla did her best to blink it away. Her thoughts were not on what she was experiencing, currently, but what had been experienced. Old thoughts had a power difficult to quell. She noted the candelabra, glowing with warm soullight. Gently she felt the texture of the sheets. They were far nicer than anything she had slept in- perhaps ever.

“Your accent.” Halnt spoke suddenly. Lekin whipped tears from his face. “Your Hestavan?”

Nylla stared at the ceiling. Clenching her jaw. Nylla moved her eyes to the Tyrant. She wanted to be certain that he knew how much she hated him. “Yes.” Her voice too hollow to be her own. “You are the reason I am here.”

The Tyrant, he only smiled at her hatred. He had burned Hestave because he could. Burned her family's stock of horses. Forcing her into a life of poverty. For men, poverty meant petty crime, or if they had a clean record it meant military service. For women, there was always a horrid survival in whoring oneself. Nylla had processed this much in her years of prostitution; when the choice of death or anguish was laid before her, she continually chose anguish because at least she was experiencing something.

However much she despised Mauln Halnt she could not help but feel sympathy for the poor boy that lay on the floor. As she shifted onto the floor next to Lekin she did her best to cover her breasts. The lad was obviously uncomfortable with nudity. She sat close to the boy, but gave him space. “I don’t think any less of you. If anything I appreciate your gentleness. Intimacy is difficult.”

Lekin nodded, but his eyes remained locked away from her. A sheet covering his nudity.

Nylla peeked her head over the bed. “Lord Halnt. I think Lekin, your son, would be more comfortable if you were not here while he…practices.”

Halnt groaned loudly, wiping sweat from his brow and unbuttoning his loose white shirt more. “Of all the women I have laid with the one I am legally married to had to be the weakest. Gah!” He cursed in phrases Nylla had never thought possible. “Dying in childbirth- well I know where your weakness comes from.” Halnt shook his head.

Halnt clapped his hands and tore off his shirt, not taking the time to remove it properly. “Watch this Lekin, this is how you bed a woman.”

Nylla’s head went elsewhere.

Nylla’s father always told her she had a heat to her. She was always calm, but never tameable. She remembered a bully steed she kept, it bit and stole from the more passive horses. It took nearly a year but she taught the cruelty out of that horse. She didn’t want to teach cruelty out of Halnt: there would be no Halnt without the cruelty. She learned that horses and men were often similar. If you stood to a bully they were often spineless. Nylla slowly stood powerfully against The Tyrant.

“No.” Nylla said sternly. Her voice echoed around the stone chamber. Lekin jumped and started to scoot away with fear in his eyes.

Halnt’s eyes grew big in a hungry kind of way.

Nylla remained stern, yet wholly calm. “You cannot do this to your own son. What cruelty are you? Forcing him to bed me so you can approve of his manhood. Then dissatisfied, forcing your son to watch you bed me.”

Mauln’s mouth hung slightly agape. Shocked that anyone would stand against him.

Nylla’s hand twitched as she tried to find more to say.

Halnt boomed with laughter. “If you have such anger against me. Then kill me.” The Tyrant put his hand to his mouth in laughter. “Killed by a whore. Now that would be quite the tale.” Stepping toward Halnt continued, “come now. Let me quiet you.”

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As The Tyrant reached to grab Nylla, she reacted thoughtlessly. Swiftly, she swung her fist. Halnt lurched back covering his nose. Nylla gaped, impressed she had just punched Mauln Halnt.

Lekin’s jaw dropped. His heart raced a different pace, not fear, but a kind of awe that someone would stand up for him. Nylla noticed crimson blood on her middle knuckle. Fear and pride mixed into a sound similar to a laugh.

Huffing, Halnt blew blood off his lips. Blood had already begun to trickle onto his smooth muscled chest. “Ah. He said with a look of pleasure. I have not had a woman touch me like that in too long.”

The massive weight of what Nylla had done now lay on her. Fluidly, she reached for a candle stick and swung the heavy weighted end in front of her in defense. She stood in front of Lekin who looked at her in awe.

Slowly the bloody faced Halnt stepped toward Nylla. Somehow she remained composed outwardly. Being too focused on The Tyrant in front of her she did not hear the window creaking open.

Halnt stepped within her reach and she swung the candlestick in front of her. Halnt effortlessly stepped out of her way. He was close enough that Nylla could see that, while mostly hairless, Halnt’s chest was not smooth. Like a practice hide, Halnt’s chest was scarred and berated.

Nylla did not see the short man enter through the window.

Swinging frantically Nylla aimed to keep the Tyrant at bay. Mauln Halnt laughed gleefully toying with the terrified woman. Suddenly, overwhelming light filled the room. Nylla covered her eyes with her hand. Peeking through her fingers she saw Halnt was equally as phased.

Halnt turned facing the light. “Who the hell are you?” Halnt roared. The short man said nothing. Nylla thought his face could have been cut from dark granite.

Reaching for his massive claymore leaning on the wall Halnt swung the sheath off at the intruding man.

The intruder cut the sheath in two with his spitting white sword. Then managed to parry Halnt’s thrust in a single motion.

In a second motion from the stone-faced man, Halnt’s sword fell to the floor. Accompanying the clang of the sword Nylla heard a second sound; a mellow thwack.

Looking away, Nylla covered her eyes to avoid seeing another man die. Nylla felt a gust of wind. The force gusted her to the floor. Light filled all her eyes, skewing her sight.

Through the light she saw a man of dark granite. The man’s right arm held an erratic spewing soulblade of pure white. Heat like a stove radiated off the blade. Fearing to see her own death coming, Nylla peeked out from her fingers. The spewing blade was at Halnt’s throat. Lurching to attack, Halnt stopped himself, knowing it was futile. The man holding the light spoke with a rumble. “You still fit into the plan but I will kill you if needed.”

To Nylla’s surprise Halnt froze. All of his posturing and power was naught: he too feared death. The stone-faced man stepped over something Nylla could not see. The heat from the blade intensified from warm, to burning as the man approached. Nylla backed up against the wall. Not knowing where to flee, she collapsed to the floor as he stepped closer. Surrendering, Nylla dropped the candlestick.

Lekin whimpered behind her. Though her chest was tight with fear, she shifted to protect him. The man disengaged the soulblade. The air cooled suddenly. The room was suddenly too dim.

Black spots filled Nylla’s eyes as they adjusted to the light.

Seeing the shape of a man approaching, Nylla lost her calm, her voice panicked. “What do you want with us?”

He crouched to their level, and with his right hand reached into his belt, pulling out a white flower. An Absarka flower. The hand that reached toward her was burnt and blistered. Could that be from the soulblade? Nylla feared to look at the assailant's face, studying only the white flower and the burnt, blistering, arm.

“I am Zaleth. Give this to King Sephren Hallen.” His voice sounded like cracking rocks. “You will do well enough as the judge.”

Nylla stayed frozen in place. Realizing her shoulder strap was falling she adjusted it, but couldn’t bear to take the flower. Lekin whimpered and howled behind her.

The man sneered. Nylla thought he heard Lekin whimpering behind her. Impatiently he said. “Do you understand the Absarka tradition?”

Nylla’s mouth was dry, unable to form words. She nodded affirmingly. This was a formal challenge to a trial. A trial she would have to adjudicate if she took it. A trial that would result in someone dying.

“Then take it.” The man said with a bite of annoyance.

Shakily she reached her hand out and took the white flower from the blistered red hand. The man stood from his crouch and turned. “We will meet at the land bridge over the Verit river.”

The man left and Nylla in a blink. She did not feel relief in his absence. Though she did not see the man’s face, Nylla knew she could recognize the intruder by his gait alone. As she Stood slowly Lekin fell onto her blubbering thanks for protecting him. She wavered after pushing the boy off of her. Uncertainty, fear. Her legs trembled beneath her.

Like embers creating a new fire Mauln Halnt began to curse and rouse himself.

Find a guard, find Lord Hallen. Nylla left the room walking with purpose.

Outside the room, Nylla heard Halnt’s profane curses echo through the halls. Fearing the White-bladed man would find her if she did not act quickly enough she stepped into a methodical run. Her bare feet slapping on the stone floors.

Guards roused towards Halnt’s room yelling. Nylla held the flower before her in reverent fear. Two guards holding pikes rushed past her. Typical. She thought. People often ignored a prostitute. She stepped after them repeatedly yelling, “I need you, I need you!”

Before entering the room the guard finally turned to her, seeing the white flower in her hands. He cursed softly. “Who.” He questioned. Nylla heard the other guard gasp as he entered the room.

“Lord Hallen.” Nylla said, gasping for breath. The guard grabbed her, leading her away. Her mind moved quickly. My Barty! She panicked for her horse. It would be dawn soon he would need to be fed. Fear snowballed in her mind that she could be misunderstood, she could be thrown in jail or imprisoned for what she is doing. She tried to shake out of their grasps but could not. She tried to tell the guards about Barty but she reverted back to Leklieven in her panic.

She feared, worrying how she would survive. How would Barty survive? You always survive. She reminded herself. I survive, but how much more suffering can I hold?