Aidan
The Realms
Thirdday, 4th week of the 9th month, Age of the Chosen 1
Late Afternoon
Criodan's Outpost, Mist Stalker territory, Mistvale Highlands
Aidan wasn't sure what he expected of Lord Criodan, but this wasn't it. Criodan was a short, overweight man with a permanent sneer. Instead of armor or a uniform, he wore an open vest and a pair of loose pants with a massive codpiece. His beer belly bulged out and jiggled unpleasantly as he paced back and forth in front of Aidan and Sunnild. The worst of it had nothing to do with the man's appearance or demeanor, however.
Three naked women crouched on the floor of Criodan's office. Each of them wore an iron collar around their neck with a heavy steel link chain attaching them to the wall. They were painfully thin and bore bruises around their thighs and breasts. They kept their heads bowed, but Aidan had a sick feeling that their throats and faces bore similar marks.
Aidan clamped down on the rage boiling up inside him. He had a job to do, and right now, he wasn't in a position to fix this. He was confident that he and Riama could kill Criodan and free the slaves, but he was less optimistic about escaping the fortified outpost and making it across the border. Besides, Aidan knew Sunnild would be upset by such violent actions, especially since it would be no more than treating the symptom while leaving the underlying disease to run rampant. No, he would have to do this from the top down, which meant gaining access to Searlas.
"You understand," Lord Criodan said in a nasal voice, "that I cannot take your words at face value? Why, you could be assassins, spies, or worse! It would be irresponsible for me to grant you further access to our lands. Unless, of course, you could provide some proof of your goodwill?"
Translation: "Bribe me, or I'll stonewall you til the end of time," Aidan thought. "Indeed, you show great wisdom, Lord Criodan. We live in chaotic times, and your caution does you credit." Flattery won't hurt. Well, it hurts me to give any credit to this asshole, but he's eating it up. "I brought several tokens of respect to present to your Chieftain. Perhaps you would do me the favor of inspecting them to be sure that there is nothing offensive or lacking in quality? I can tell your eye is keener than my own."
Greed shone forth from Criodan's beady eyes. "Of course!" he slobbered. "The Chieftain has refined and specialized tastes; it would be easy for a foreigner to offer unintentional insult. In the interest of bettering relations between our people, it is my duty to assist you!"
Aidan had to restrain a snort as the unctuous catfolk's rationale for the bribe crumbled like paper in the face of his greed. Nonetheless, he began pulling boxes from his Haversack and laying them on a nearby table. He didn't show his entire stock of potential gifts; among other things, Aidan needed the dragon scale as both proof and bribe for Searlas. Criodan opened each container in turn, examining the collected coins, gems, crafting materials, and magical items. He sorted through the gifts quickly and efficiently, dividing them into three piles.
"These," Criodan waved at the first pile, "are unsuitable. The gems are flawed, the materials common." That was mostly bullshit; this was the pile of items that fit the intersection of Criodan's interest and what he thought he could get away with asking for. He moved onto the next set of items. "These are of suitable quality, but they will not earn my Chieftain's favor; as I said, Searlas has particular tastes. You may find other takers for them in my Lord's court, however. And these last few items—truly exquisite! You bring gifts suiting your royal claims, Lord Aidan. Any one of these would earn you an audience with Chief Searlas, and all of them combined may even win you some measure of favor from him."
While he loathed the man, Aidan had to admit that Lord Criodan had a sharp mind for politics. He had no doubt that the man's advice regarding the latter two sets of gifts was genuine; he was counting on Aidan realizing that it was potentially sabotage. That would force Aidan to tell Searlas that Criodan had advised him on the gifts, which meant that he would earn a portion of the favor Aidan did when they turned out to be as valuable as he claimed. Aidan could call his bluff, but in the end, the risk wasn't worth the reward.
"Thank you for your advice, Lord Criodan. I will be sure to praise your discerning eye to Chieftain Searlas." Aidan pushed a sack full of 'flawed' gemstones toward the man. "I apologize that I have nothing better to repay your help than these poor, flawed pieces." That grated; the gems inside were worth several thousand coins in total; far from the most valuable gift even among those on the table, but still galling to hand over to Criodan.
The catfolk scooped the bag up and made it vanish into a drawer in his desk. "It is of no concern, Lord Aidan. It is in my best interest to keep good relations with such a close neighbor, after all. It is late in the day to start your trip to Termondoon; I will arrange for you to have quarters overnight so that you can start fresh in the morning." Criodan gave Aidan a smarmy smile and gestured at the naked slaves. "I saw you admiring my pets earlier. If you like, I could lend you one for the evening? They are well-trained in every form of pleasure."
The offer made Aidan's skin crawl. He doubted he could even achieve an erection in the presence of one of the poor girls. He concentrated on returning the gifts to his Handy Haversack. "I appreciate the offer, Lord Criodan, but I would not wish to strain your hospitality. A room for the night will be plenty alongside the help you have already given us."
"Of course, of course! I confess, if any of my pets were as lovely as yours, I would not have eyes for others, either." He leered at Sunnild, then clapped his hands twice. The door opened, and one of Criodan's guards poked his head inside. "Daineal, have someone take Lord Aidan to a room fitting his station."
"Of course, my Lord." The guard led Aidan and Sunnild down the hall, then summoned a servant to take them the rest of the way.
A few minutes later, the pair found themselves in a roomy, well-appointed cabin. Riama teleported into Aidan's shadow as the servant closed the door behind them, then set about inspecting their lodgings. Sunnild wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her head against his chest. "That was awful!" she exclaimed.
"One moment," Aidan cautioned her, then cast Sound Barrier. "We can talk without being overheard now," he told her.
"Those poor women," Sunnild continued. "Did you see all the bruises and cuts?"
Aidan stroked his songbird's downy crest. "Yeah, I did. He doesn't feed them very well, either. They weren't starving, but they were too thin to be healthy. I wanted to do something, but..."
Sunnild nodded. "Nothing we do here would solve the problem," she confirmed. "That doesn't make it any easier to leave them to suffer."
"It doesn't," Aidan agreed. He cupped her chin and nudged her head up, then brushed her lips with his. "We'll fix it, love. Someday, somehow."
"Mm!" She gave a decisive nod. "We will!"
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Aidan
Fourthday, 4th week of the 9th month, Age of the Chosen 1
Mid-Morning
The next morning, a new team of soldiers escorted Aidan and Sunnild out of the outpost. To his surprise, this squad had two un-collared women. He decided to take a gamble and ask about it.
"Forgive me if I give insult, but I am curious. Every other woman I've seen so far has born the marks of a slave, but you two appear to be free. Are you perhaps nobility?"
The pair shared a look. "No, my Lord," the taller of the two responded. "Only criminals are enslaved, and only for the duration of their sentence."
"I see," Aidan said, but he was still puzzled. "Two more questions, if I may try your patience further. In the patrol that we encountered near the border, one of the soldiers was a woman. Why are enslaved criminals trusted with weapons and the security of your territory? Also, why have I not seen any male slaves?"
"Most men are sent to the mines," the shorter woman replied.
"As for the woman you saw, the slave collars are enchanted. The wearer cannot defy the orders of the person they are linked to. Such soldiers are more trustworthy than their squadmates."
"I... see," Aidan said, unsettled. "Thank you for your answers." He shared a sidelong glance with Sunnild, then directed his thoughts to his familiar. "Are you in range?"
"Of course, Master. You will not leave me behind!"
Aidan had to suppress a smile at the emotions leaking from Riama. "I wouldn't dream of it. I have a mission for you, though, once we get to our destination. I want you to sneak around and count the number of people with and without slave collars. I don't need an exact count, but I want to get a general idea of how deep it goes."
That made Aidan cough to hide the laugh that threatened to break past his control.
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Aidan
Seventhday, 4th week of the 9th month, Age of the Chosen 1
Early Afternoon
Congratulations! You have reached level 17 in Beast Magic.
Congratulations! You have reached level 54 in Sex.
It took them another three days of travel to reach Termondoon. It was more of a fortress than a village, with two walls encircling the peak of a tall, steep hill. The outer wall was only about eight feet high, but a moat full of dark, sluggish water extended a good fifteen feet in front of it. The second set of walls was higher, about fifteen feet tall, and had crenelations to protect soldiers from projectiles. A handful of square platforms jutted up every so often around the inner wall, and an ancient-looking gatehouse barred the way inside.
"Impressive," Aidan said, and meant it. The squad of soldiers conferred with the gate guards for a moment before they waved the group through. The soldiers escorted him to a barracks further up the hill, then handed him off to an older soldier wearing a uniform instead of armor.
"What is this, then?" the officer asked.
"Good afternoon, sir," Aidan gave a short bow. "I am Lord Aidan, the new ruler of Ceallach Macht. I come with gifts for Chief Searlas along with hopes for diplomacy and trade. I passed through Lord Criodan's outpost along the way; that august individual tasked these soldiers with escorting us."
The older cat snorted. "After you greased his palm, I am sure. The fat fool always did have an eye for profit. Soldiers, you are dismissed. Take the afternoon for yourselves and return to Criodan in the morning."
"Thank you, sir!" the squad saluted and hurried off.
The officer eyed Aidan and Sunnild. "You," he gestured at Aidan, "are a mage, and you, girl, fight with either hands and feet or with summoned weapons if I had to guess. Regardless, you cannot take your blade into the Chieftain's presence. I know that makes no sense given that either of you could fight without it, but rules are rules. You can just store it away for all I care."
Aidan nodded. The Summer Sword was a powerful weapon in the right hands, but he was hardly helpless without it. He unbuckled the scabbard from his belt and slid it into his Haversack.
"Alright, let us get this over with. My name is Irial, by the way." Irial led Aidan and Sunnild toward an expansive manor house at the very top of the hill. Two soldiers with spears flanked the entrance, but Irial strode past them without a glance, and they did not bar his way. He guided them through a series of corridors, then stopped in front of a double door with another pair of guards. "Visitors for Chief Searlas," he grunted. "Lord Aidan of Ceallach Macht and..." he glanced at Sunnild.
"Sunnild," she supplied.
"And Lady Sunnild," Irial finished. "They bring gifts and offers."
One of the guards saluted then slipped into the room beyond. A minute later, the door swung wide open, and a melodic baritone voice called out, "Enter, Lord Aidan and Lady Sunnild. We greet our friends from the west." Aidan and Sunnild stepped in.
They were in a medium-sized hall lined with gauzy silks and padded couches. A couple dozen catfolk filled the room in groups of two to four, breaking off their conversations to watch Aidan and Sunnild. The whole place had a thin haze of smoke; it reminded Aidan of photographs he'd seen of old opium dens and hashish parlors.
The far end of the chamber ended in a raised dais adorned with an ornate, richly-upholstered chair. A long, narrow sword rested against the side of the throne, while a handsome catfolk, his chest bare aside from the jeweled necklaces dangling from his neck, sat atop it. Intelligent golden eyes watched Aidan and Sunnild approach.
Six beautiful women lounged on the dais, not all of them feline in appearance. Four of them looked human at first glance, one was an elf with ears like Brighid's, and the last was a mist leopard catfolk with a gleaming golden collar around her neck. Aidan's eyes flicked to the other women; only the catfolk wore a collar. None of them appeared mistreated, either; their skin was flawless, and they each had a pleasantly full figure. The catfolk even had the slightest hint of a paunch.
"Lord Aidan of Ceallach Macht, is it?" Searlas asked. His voice was rich and carried a hint of interest. "We heard of the event at the lost city, but details have been hard to come by."
"Yes, I control the city and the Place of Power at its heart," Aidan confirmed. Searlas would find out bout the Throne eventually, so there was no sense hiding it. "I helped the Starchasers cleanse the city of the evil that infested it and was given rulership of it in turn." That was stretching the truth pretty thin, but not technically a lie.
A murmur ran through the room at the mention of the Starchasers. Searlas leaned forward on his throne. "Indeed? The horses gave you land? That is interesting, indeed. We never thought to see the day when they loosened their spines. You must have done them a powerful favor for them to go so far for you. But enough of such weighty matters," he said, settling back into his seat and gesturing for Aidan to approach. "We were told you bring gifts and offers of state? It is rare indeed for another ruler to come to us; we extend you our hospitality and would hear what you have to say."