Freyjin’s morning began with her stretching out, enjoying her bath, seeing the four little ones up and about, preparing for their day of service. Each of them, save for Number Four, were withdrawn after the previous night. As the elven woman considered that, in concert with her recollections of their words, a picture began to emerge in her now refreshed mind. ‘She didn’t…? She couldn’t…? Their training with Solution…?’ The more she thought, the more obvious it was.
Freyjin thought about the way in which her mistress had utterly crushed her, and the way she fought against Bracer and how rumor said she had demolished Prince Sado. ‘She is a death worshipping assassin… why should ‘training children for that’ be beyond her?’
A sense of mute horror stopped Freyjin in her tracks. She stared down at the little beds, all four were now neatly made, as if four little heads had not been resting on four little pillows not even an hour before. She folded her hands in front of herself and took the time to think it over. ‘Is that really a bad thing? Lenah, Straen, Veema… Number Four… they will grow strong. No one will hurt them. They will be useful to her, I won’t have to worry.’ The more she thought about it, the more sense it made, and the more sense it made, the more she relaxed.
‘Still… I need to speak with her, I need… what? Reassurance? Don’t be stupid, Freyjin.’ She went and laid herself on her bed and spread out her arms to stare at the ceiling. “Maybe you just don’t want to feel like you’re losing them to her, but you’re already hers anyway… goddess of will. You’re an idiot, Freyjin, a true idiot. You should have not only realized it immediately based on what they said, you should have suggested this to her first. Perhaps I can build on the idea though… I’m no assassin, but my investigative skills are second to none here as far as I know. Perhaps… perhaps…”
Freyjin’s thoughts built up more and more, ‘Many of the women here will have children this winter, and many of the ones here already do. War produces orphans faster than most plagues. Why stop at four? A goddess of will should have legions…’ As she considered that, she imagined someone trying to take Veema away, as she was taken after her defeat… but fighting like mistress, or Solution… or an order of thousands of young men and women with the implacable resolve and cunning that made numbers irrelevant.
She then got up, left the room, and headed for the office of her Duchessa.
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Prince Rasgen sat in his throne beside the empty seat of his deceased consort. He barely listened to the petitioner. When the person fell silent, he was brought back to reality by the long silence and said, “I will consider your words.” The cryptic statement was enough to convince the kneeling nobleman to rise, bow, and withdraw. ‘Thank the stars I keep someone writing these things down or that could get embarrassing.’ He thought with well concealed relief.
The truth was, his mind was on the ball and the Duchessa’s long overdue official ceremony. ‘She is as addicted to her work as a drunkard to their wine.’ The Prince considered, ‘She is probably the only other noble to be awake at the same time I am.’ Aside from the respect that garnered her in his mind, he indulged in a brief fantasy, he wondered what beauty lay beneath her clothing. Both Sobella and Lodira had teased him about his lingering looks. They were beautiful women, the picture of soft femininity, but the Duchessa reminded him of a tigress. Sleek, strong, built to kill. ‘What would please her? How tightly can her thighs squeeze when wrapped around a man’s waist…?’ They were pleasant, distracting thoughts that kept at bay ones he found much harder to bear. The death of those two he loved best, left no one at hand to be at ease with.
‘Curious, Nua lives in a far more dangerous world than Sobella or Lodira did, yet I am not worried about whether she will die.’ It was a very unusual line of thought, and yet it caused him to reflect more on just why he desired the Duchessa.
The Prince rolled his eyes and waved the next person forward. To his surprise, the double doors opened to reveal a centaur. As they went, he was large, he wore a bow on his back, thick steel armor on his chest that was burnished to a shine, on his arms he wore what at first glance appeared to be fairly typical protective equipment. But when you glanced closer, it came out to an edge, like a sword had been secured to it, making his arm itself into a kind of blade.
On his back he wore not a saddle, but rather a banner secured by straps, identifying his tribe. In this case, it was a red banner with a billowing white swirl, representing the wind. “Ambassador Botisa of the Wind Racer tribe.” The speaker called out. The armor clinked as the towering centaur approached, his hooves clip clopping over the stone until he came as close as protocol allowed and his legs bent forward in a courteous centaur improvisation of kneeling.
“Welcome, Ambassador. What brings you to Pas’en?” Prince Rasgen asked, intrigued. He ran down the list of what he knew of the centaur tribes. ‘Mobile warriors of the steppes, popular mercenaries for those cities closer to their borders… hot tempered, distrustful of strangers but hospitable to guests. Even more contentious of their neighbors than we are.’ He tried to recall what else there was, and came up empty as a bucket from a dry well.
The centaur’s voice boomed out proudly, but the tension in his fist was immediately obvious to Prince Rasgen, as was the subtext of what he said. “Hail to you, oh Prince of many, I, Botisa, come to call on the warriors of the west to render us their services! An alliance of five tribes has come together to take our lives, as our young stallions have often come to sell their arms to the many causes of war from wall to wall, it is our thought to now call on you for the same. We have no walls, but we have cause for war! We wish to hire your armies, march your two legged champions east, and I promise we will pay you well.”
‘They’re desperate. Likely they’ve gone to cities farther east of us and have been turned down because nobody wants to lose and see retaliation on their city from a centaur coalition. Otherwise, why come this far west?’ Prince Rasgen realized, and kept his face tranquil.
Prince Rasgen’s voice was as booming and clear as Botisa’s own, “Ambassador Botisa, your praise is welcome, and I recognize your need, but another campaign season will come upon us soon. You are welcome to hire any of our private mercenary companies of course, as well as those of the other cities, but I cannot send out the army of Pas’en for any amount of money under those conditions.”
The centaur barely held back his frustration, and as a matter of pity, to spare him any shame and let him save face, Rasgen probed with a question, “How many are those arrayed against you?”
“Their tribes together muster fifty-thousand arms, *.” Botisa replied, the dread swelled in his voice, “My own tribe can muster only one in five of that number.”
“How long do you have… do you think?” Prince Rasgen asked thoughtfully.
“Others of my tribe have gone to other cities to hire mercenaries as well, I do not know how much luck they have had, but… they have only just delivered their warning to us to empty the lands by what you call your next campaign season.” Botisa shook his head, “I will take your words as true, I will seek out other mercenary companies, and attempt to hire them. Where might I begin, Prince of Pas’en?”
Rasgen chose to throw him some semblance of a lifeline, “Normally I would say the adventurers guild, but… tomorrow there is a grand ball in honor of our new Duchessa, held at her home, everybody who is anybody will be in attendance, including the leading merchants and I would presume, the captains of various mercenary bands. The Duchessa herself is head of a mercenary band, perhaps she might be willing to consider your offer. Even if not, others will be there and you may accomplish it all at once.
That seemed to perk the centaur up considerably. “I thank you, Prince of Pas’en.” Botisa replied, a nod of gratitude marking his words as sincere.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
‘A courtier would have offered more thanks, but meant it less, warrior peoples can be burdensome but… refreshing in their own right.’ Rasgen reflected, and said, “Very good, I will have word sent to the Duchessa of your coming, and you may collect her estate’s location from any of my pages as you depart.”
The centaur rose, and departed with his back straight, the sound of his hooves echoing off the stone walls and following him out of the palace.
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Freyjin saw Number Four leaving the office of the mistress with a collar around her neck, the little girl didn’t smile, ‘She doesn’t do that much…’ Freyjin considered, but she wasn’t upset either. The slender elven woman wanted to stop the girl to speak with her, but thought the better of it. She passed the armored guard at the door and knocked solidly.
“Enter.” Nua shouted from within.
Freyjin opened the door and went a few paces from the desk, and prostrated herself.
“Is it true, mistress?” She asked without looking up.
Nua didn’t need to ask what she meant. “Yes, Freyjin it is. All four of them. Do you wish to object?” There was a hint of warning in Nua’s voice, but it wasn’t necessary.
“No, mistress. Far from it. If my child, if all my children are strong, I won’t ever have to fear for their lives. There is no mercy to the weak or gentle in this world… unless it comes from… from a goddess.” Freyjin finished the words in a rush, “I propose expanding it beyond the four, you’ve acquired a great deal of land, not all of it used. Why not build a facility close to the Komestran training grounds, take in all the city’s homeless children. Also, why not take in all the unwanted babies, assign some slaves to raise them, and as they get old enough, teach them to fight. Teach them to become like you. It may be an investment of years, but we are elves, we have years if we are not killed.”
Nua sat back in her chair, “There seems to always be something more to you than I expect.” Nua gave a small laugh to the prostrate bronze collared elf, “I like the idea, as you say, it will be an investment of years, but we have those. What’s more, my empire will need the talent. Stand up.” Nua ordered, and Freyjin rose to her feet.
Nua pointed at her sharply, “This is your project then, start with one building, buy some gentle hearted young servants, they don’t ‘have’ to be Komestran, and some teachers as well. These may be the first full blown career administrators of my empire when the dust has settled. This is not your top priority, but call it… very significant.”
“As you say, mistress, but may I ask… am I truly not going with you on the campaign?” Freyjin bit her lip and blinked several times to keep the obvious longing from her eyes.
“I will consider bringing you, but I need good administration at my back. Priceless will be running Lur’gin. Kaiji will be with me, Solution and Sado will be with me… oh.” Nua said as she considered the question.
“You’re looking for a chance to win freedom for one of your charges.” Nua stated, and it was not a question.
Freyjin gave a small double nod. “I trust you… you are my goddess of will… but it is the principle of the thing, and now you have made Number Four a slave as well…”
Nua set her quill down and stood up, Freyjin’s eyes darted up with surprise at the motion.
“I did, and you should be glad. Number Four, by the way, is now known as ‘Shi’, that was the name she chose. I did that to her because she is far, far too dangerous to be allowed to think of herself in any other way but subordinate to me. Solution herself advised that if I didn’t put her in that status, as soon as she understood what being ‘free’ meant, I’d have bodies to take care of. She doesn’t have a true grasp of empathy, or pity, or love, or mercy…” Nua walked around her desk and approached where Freyjin’s head was already starting to hang again.
“Am I merciful to you, Freyjin?” Nua asked in a gentle voice and held out a hand.
Freyjin took it up and kissed her palm, “More than I dreamed… I will die for you… my goddess…” she lowered the palm as her words passed her lips, and Nua answered in turn…
“Then you trust me to speak the truth, I did not put a collar on Shi in order to punish her or threaten you or for some petty display of dominance. Perhaps one day she will be able to function like you. But until then? That is a tiny adorable predator, she must be carefully guided and controlled. Do you want to know something funny, slave?” Nua asked with a sad smile on her face that saw her lower her head a little.
“Mistress?” Freyjin asked, mystified and blinking her eyes rapidly.
“Shi… is in a way, symbolic of all of you. I trust hardly anyone anymore, that I do not own. The only ones I can trust, are slaves, everyone else, with a few exceptions, are either people wanting to use me, or opponents I have to bring down.” Nua snorted, “What a thing, wouldn’t you agree? When I was a slave, I hated everyone who was free, now I am free, and almost the only ones I love or trust are slaves.”
“Is that why you send away the ones that you set free? Because they’re farther away from you…?” Freyjin’s eyes widened at the sudden sense of insight, and Nua held her tongue for a moment.
“I hadn’t thought about it, if you want the truth but… maybe so. I don’t want anyone serving close to at hand who loves their own life more than they love me. Freedom for you or service to me… it may be a choice I present to you one day, Freyjin, perhaps sooner than you think. I won’t resent you for the former if you take it one day. But until then…” Nua held her palm up, and Freyjin pressed her lips to it lovingly.
“Your chance to fight again will come soon, continue to see to the others while I am gone, do well, and I will not forget you, or your children, when the time comes.” Nua promised.
Freyjin knelt silently. “Your will, my purpose, my goddess.” She said decisively.
“Then go, and see it done.” Nua ordered, and returned behind her desk again, as Freyjin rose and departed.
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Priceless approached the office, passing Freyjin as she did so, and knocked.
“Enter!” Her mistress called from within and Priceless felt her heart skip a beat.
She looked over her shoulder to where Tir followed, “Please don’t be lying…” Priceless mouthed, Tir nodded sharply and Priceless reached for the handle.
The lady Aiwenor was going over some documents full of numbers, and did not bother to look up as Priceless and Tir approached, not until both were prostrate with their foreheads pressed to the floor.
“What is it, Priceless? I hope this is important, I’m leaving in two days and I have much to do, and… who is that with you?” Nua asked as she saw that Priceless had brought another with her.
Priceless spoke hastily, “Mistress, this is Tir…” Priceless then explained all that Tir had told to her, hoping against hope the entire time, that the woman had not been lying.
Nua looked down at the slave beside Priceless, long blonde hair, shapely form, but the name was not one she recognized. ‘I’ll deal with Priceless about this later… for now, I deal with the fraud. Someone trying to use Sobella’s name to garner pity for themselves… despicable.’ The Duchessa thought with wrath and said, “Leave us, Priceless… go and… yes, go and see to Number Four. Her name and status have changed, register her as such with the city and company rolls. She now wears my iron.”
Priceless did not need to be ordered twice, she scrambled to her feet, bowed, and rushed for the door. “At once, My Lady…”
Nua stood up and approached the prostrate woman, the slave clearly held her tongue very well at least. The Duchessa let the silence stretch, silence always discomfited the dishonest, ‘They cannot bear air that is not filled with lies.’ But if this one was uncomfortable, she didn’t show it, she just waited for Nua to speak.
Nua crouched, grabbed the woman’s hair close to the skull and said with a vicious snarl, “How dare you use Sobella’s name… answer me…” The slave yelped a little bit, and Nua yanked her head back forcing her to look up, and saw a face she knew.
The Duchessa immediately dropped her hold on Lodira’s hair. Her eyes widened, and she saw the woman’s own eyes well with tears. “I’m not lying… you know me… don’t you? Please say you do… we weren’t close friends but… you recognize me… you know who I am… who I was…?” Tir said with aching desperation.
“You were… I heard you were dead…” Nua said in a whispered tone. A large part of guilt held over her death, was replaced by a flood of overwhelming relief.
“Lodira is gone… struck from Shog’nai’s roles, and her father had her name stripped from her, and had her declared dead… I was then sold to the Lur’gin company…” Little tears ran down Tir’s eyes. “Nobody would have anything to do with me! Except for Rasgen… Nobody believed me! Nobody! Nobody nobody nobody! After you were gone, I, well, somebody killed my husband, and the whole family. The killer left me alive… and even though people thought the missing guard might have done it, I was assumed to be behind it…”
She sniffled hard several times, and the hand that yanked her hair fell more gently, and Tir finally shouted, “I didn’t do it though! I swear! I swear I didn’t have anything to do with Ulmin’s death! I’m innocent! Please… please believe me… please…” Tir bit her lip, ‘If she doesn’t believe me… I don’t know what to do…’ She thought and swallowed bitterly, “Mistress… please believe me… you may have no reason to, but… I didn’t do it… only Rasgen believed me.” She tried to catch the Duchessa’s eyes, the hand that caressed her was kind at least, but kind touches could disguise much.
Nor did she forget the secret she held, of the curses Nua laid on Sobella’s body. ‘That’s even worse than if she thinks I killed Ulmin.’ Tir suppressed a shudder, ‘She’s probably thinking about that right now, I have to reassure her.’ Tir thought, and hurriedly added, “I’ve… I have kept your secret, just like I promised. Nobody knows what you did to Sobella… please believe me. You don’t have to kill me, I’ll stay quiet, I promise, I don’t want to die.”
Nua’s silence stretched out, and Tir felt it killing her inside, ‘What is she waiting for?! Why doesn’t she say anything… oh right…!’ She realized and rose up enough to free her hands from their prostrate position, take Nua’s wrist, and kiss her right palm. “I swear, I am innocent of the crime that ruined me, and have not betrayed that night’s trust, My Lady!” Tir exclaimed, and it snapped Nua out of her reverie.
“Tir…” Nua said gently.
“Yes… mistress?” the long haired courtesan asked in turn.
“I believe you.” Nua answered, “You could not have killed Ulmin, or his family.” And as she answered, she could not help but complete the spoken words with the silent thought, ‘Because you were sleeping through the night while I killed them all myself.’