Baron gnawed on the end of his wooden pen. He hadn’t expected to be managing the monster’s finances. Truth be told, he never even imagined the monster would have finances to manage, but here he was counting out the immense sums of money that was being spent. Of course, he had to skim some for himself, and if he didn’t get too greedy, no one would find out. The problem was that these expenditures were increasing rapidly and in greater sums.

The bribe that went to the Church took a massive chunk out of the stockpiled gold. Then there were the costs for the parts of the Grand Phylactery. There weren’t many master smiths in Jericho, so it was important to separate the orders to keep any one person from getting suspicious. That, however, meant a higher charge for the parts, and lastly, there was that damned House of Destiny. Thanks to the war, the costs of materials have increased beyond their true value. Baron was tearing out his hair trying to find cheap resources to rebuild the dilapidated manor, and it didn’t help that the sanguinite’s religion would simply be a money pit.

The more Baron stared at the paperwork, the more his frustration grew. The main sources of income were from Taela’s brothels and his brewery. The tavern that was Reviled’s base was barely making an income, and so it mainly funded itself.

“Dammit, we need more money.” Baron scratched his head violently as he stared at the thick black negative mark over the total losses. “At this rate we’ll be bankrupt before the year is finished.” A knock sounded from the door. “Come in Charolette.”

“Pardon to disturb you, but master Khasimir is here to see you.”

Before Baron could respond, a man wrapped in multiple silk robes strode into the room. A silk hood hung from his shoulders along with the thick, oily, black locks of his long hair, and deep green scales broke up the bronze skin of his cheeks and neck. He gave Baron a smile that showed off his two long fangs and it reached all the way up to his deep emerald eyes with slit pupils.

“It’s good to see you again, my friend.” Khasimir said. The emphasized Ss sent a shiver down Baron’s back. “I’m sorry to hear about your father.”

“Don’t be.” Baron replied with a deep sigh. “The old fool brought it on himself, and now I have to pay the price.”

“So, I take it then that you are not the new king?”

“No, I’m not.”

A sad smile came to Khasimir’s lips. “A shame. So, any reason you needed me to procure artistic slaves?”

“The King is looking to renovate the slums, and to do that he is planning to open a few shops. We need individuals to man those shops.”

“Well, then you are in luck.” Khasimir replied with a wide grin.

“That’s good to hear.” Baron chuckled, handing Khasimir a permit. “This will get you into the city. You can set up in the old arena, and you have a few days to get everything ready.”

“Will I get to meet the new King?”

“He’ll be there tonight. He’ll want first pick before anyone else.”

Khasimir’s eyes shine with greed. “Then I better get everything ready.”

----------------------------------------

Bright lights lit up the center of the warehouse courtyard. A singular round stage sat at the center of the arena with an extravagant red carpet leading from the entrance to the arena basement. Reviled was impressed at how quickly the slaver had set up.

“Is something the matter Mina?” Reviled turned to the young woman.

Mina’s eyes shifted around, and her breath caught in her throat. “I’m fine. This simply brings back bad memories.”

“Then you should have stayed at the tavern.” Reviled petted her head.

“No!” Mina swallowed as she stared into Reviled’s hood. “I’m your attendant, and it’s my duty to stay by your side.”

Movement caught their attention. “Good girl.” It turned to the arena entrance.

Fanfare echoed throughout the arena as Khasimir stepped into the arena. His silk tunic hung loosely on his frame, exposing the green scales running along his chest. Golden chains hung around his neck, and rings with large stones decorated each finger. His thick hair had a dark green sheen as the torchlight struck it.

“Greetings sire!” Khasimir greeted them with a charming smile. “I hope you are doing well this evening.”

“That depends on your product.” Reviled chuckled, pulling the cloak tighter around itself. “We spent a lot of money. You had best come through.”

“You wound me sire.” Khasimir gasped in shock. “I only deal in the best.” His eyes fell to the women around Reviled. “Much like yourself.”

“True, then let us see what your best entails.”

“Of course. I know exactly who to start with.” Khasimir pulled a small whistle from his pocket and blew.

A zymarrian woman walked down the red carpet until she stood in the center of the stage. She began swinging her wide hips wildly in a dance that made her generous figure shake seductively. The golden bangles around her ankles and wrists jingled with her movement, and they paired well with her violet scales and dark blue hair. Her alluring maroon eyes locked onto Reviled, and it couldn’t help but chuckle as the ghost of a smile appeared behind her veil.

“So, she pleases you?”

“To some extent, but what are her skills?” Reviled replied.

“She gifted with her tongue, if you know what I mean.” Khasimir snickered at the scowl on Meridith’s and Mina’s face. “She is also gifted in many artistic endeavors such as singing, dancing, and playing instruments.”

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“We already have a personal minstrel.” Reviled said looking at Mina. “And we’d be a fool to replace her.”

“I still think we should buy her Sire.” Taela stepped forward, appraising the slave. “Zymarrian women are rumored to be skilled prostitutes, and with her other skills, she’d bring in the money.” Reviled looked at the woman again. The zymarrian woman cocked her hips at him with a seductive smile.

“It’s an interesting idea, but aren’t you overstaffed.” Reviled glanced at Taela.

“Never underestimate how influential a prostitute can be sire.” Taela replied with a glint in her eye. “She’d easily find herself the favorite of many powerful men.”

Reviled tapped its claws in thought. “Very well Taela. We’ll heed your advice.” It turned to the slaver. “How much?”

“In hopes of cultivating a lasting relationship, I’ll sell her for a hundred and fifty gold.”

“One hundred gold.”

“One twenty-five.”

“Deal.”

Khasimir laughed in delight and snapped his fingers. The zymarrian woman jumped off the stage and sidled up to Reviled.

She rubbed against Reviled with a sensual smile. “My name is Cynmora.” The woman said with a throaty hiss. “It is a pleasure to serve you master, whatever you may desire.” She reached into the hood and ran a finger along its metal jaw.

Reviled chuckled at her confused frown. “You play a dangerous game girl.” Its gaze flashed to the women growling at her.

A cloaked hand wrapped around her, and Cynmora’s frown turned to a smile. She let out a groan as Reviled’s claw rested against her back, and it turned into a pained moan as the magic surged through her. Cynmora panted heavily as she rested against her new master.

“I’m truly yours now.” Cynmora chuckled with hooded eyes.

“Now’s not the time.” Meridith snapped pulling her away. “Taela, take care of your new prostitute.” Taela took the zymarrian’s arm and led her away. Cynmora waved at Reviled and blew him a quick kiss. “The nerve.” Meridith huffed.

“Come now, Meridith.” Reviled replied, brushing her hair.

Meridith scoffed in disgust and stepped away. “I think we should look through the rest of the slaves. There might be more women that catch your eye.” A chuckle escaped Khasimir’s lips as he snapped his fingers again.

The next slave was a zymarrian man. His scrawny frame was indicative of a scholar, but he did hold himself with a noble air. The man was a former shop keep. Reviled didn’t hesitate to purchase him.

The next was a levian woman. Her plain features made her unremarkable compared to the zymarrians. There was no life in her dull, brown eyes, and scars lined her body. Her right thumb rubbed the pitted brass ring on her left hand. Reviled had no need for a broken widow, and she was dragged away.

Levian and zymarrian slaves were paraded before them, but none caught their attention. Each one that Reviled passed caused sweat to form on Khasimir’s forehead. The last slave was led back to the arena, his sullen face directed to the ground.

“Is this all?” Reviled growled.

“No, I was simply saving the best for last.” Khasimir gestured to the guard at the entrance. “I think it’s time to bring out the oruelians.”

All eyes turned to the entrance. The rattling of chains echoed from the darkened opening. Out stepped a towering man with charcoal black skin. Dull grey hair hung down to his back with small grey studs lining his collarbone. The wooden steps creaked under his weight as he stepped onto the stage. His muscles stretched against the rough cloth of his clothes, and his clenched fists crushed the chains in his hands.

“This oruelian has skills in blacksmithing.” Khasimir said with a smug smile. “He also has skills in masonry and leatherworking.”

Reviled stared up into the man’s wide, square face. His nose was bent with a large scar running across the bridge. A thin, wispy mustache dusted his upper lip.

“What is your name?” Reviled called out to him.

“Temour.” He said in a deep bass tone.

“How skilled are you at smithing?”

Temour raised his head and stared down at Reviled. “There is none better than I.” Despite his dour face, a fire burned in his eyes. He opened his fists, and the chains connecting his manacles together fell. The links on each end were shaped into flowers. The twisted metal was quite beautiful. “See.”

“Interesting.” Reviled chuckled. “How much?”

“Well, we zymarrians take pride in cultivating our oruelians.” Khasimir replied with a tight smile. “I won’ bore you with the details, but when he says he’s the best, I wouldn’t doubt it.” Reviled glared at the slaver with a low growl. “Seven hundred gold.”

Reviled nodded. “Are there any other skilled oruelians?”

“I have three. The blacksmith, a seamstress, and a carpenter.”

“Very well, two thousand for all three.”

Khasimir choked on his breath. “Pardon?”

“We will buy all three oruelians for two thousand gold.”

“That’s quite generous, but-”

“We will drop our cut of the profits from twenty-five percent down to ten.”

“You have a deal!” Khasimir wildly waved at the guards. “Bring the other two out!”

In a single leap, Reviled stood next to Temour. Even at full height, Reviled was staring up into his face. Dull grey veins broke up his black. Reviled tapped on the strange complexion, and there was a scraping of metal on metal.

“You are unfamiliar with mine kind?” Temour cocked a disinterested brow.

“We’ve heard the tales, but we were uncertain if they were true.” Reviled replied with a curious gaze. “To think your kind truly do grow metal from your bodies.”

Chains clanked as the other two oruelians stepped onto the stage. Both had lighter tone of ashy black skin, but their hair was fiery copper. A crown of copper studs grew on their forehead. Their similar features clearly marked them as related. The bronze oruelian man was slightly shorter than Temour, and the woman was slightly taller than Reviled. They both had the same listless expression as Temour.

“We won’t have need of these.” Reviled swiped at their bindings, cutting them free. The oruelians slightly twitched in confusion. “We prefer this instead.”

Reviled poked Temour in the chest. He didn’t even flinch as the magic carved the slave crest into his skin, and when it was over, he scratched at the marking. The other two were the same, and both barely registered the crest now marking their flesh.

“Are we permitted to know thine name, master?” The female oruelian asked.

“We are Reviled Legion, and what are your names?”

A slightly amused smile appeared on the bronze woman’s face. “Ezet, and that is mine brother Zesh.” The bronze man nodded in agreement. “Forgive him master, but Zesh can no longer speak.”

“Why?” Reviled inspected him but found no wounds on his neck. However, it became apparent when Zesh opened his mouth.

“Our last master was quick to anger, and mine brother bore the brunt of her wrath.”

“Then you shall be his voice.” Reviled turned to Ezet. “Speak up should you need anything.”

“Thine mercy is wasted on us.” Ezet bowed her head deeply.

“And one other thing.” Reviled grabbed her chin directed her head so that she stared into its eyes. Fear twisted her face, and she tried to look away. “Look us in the eyes when you speak to us.”

“We are unworthy.” Temour said gruffly.

“That is for us to decide, and we have decided that you will look at us when you speak. Understand?” The three oruelians nodded. “Good, then come with us.” It jumped down and turned to Khasimir. “We recommend you tend to your slaves. Some looked dreadful.”

“I’ll see to it they are ready for the auction.”

Reviled nodded and strode towards the exit. The oruelians’ footsteps thundered behind them. Meridith and Mina flanked both of Reviled’s sides.

“You found yourself another woman.” Meridith said with a venomous tone.

“You know master, back home there is a saying.” Mina replied with her own icy tone. “A man who picks too many peaches often comes home with none.”

“And nothing makes a woman uglier than jealousy.” Reviled chuckled when both women scowled at it. “Besides, what’s more important are their skills, not their looks.”

“But you were quite enchanted by Cynmora’s dancing.” Taela chimed in.

“I’ll gladly dance for you whenever you desire master.” Two pairs of eyes glared at the zymarrian woman as they left.