BEAST'S SLAVE - CHAPTER 22
After the meeting, Grand Lord Vladya’s mood grew darker as he made his way to the forbidden chambers.
However, as he turned the corner into the corridor, his legs abruptly halted. Trays filled with empty plates lined the wall, meticulously arranged.
His brows furrowed as he cautiously approached.
Daemonikai crouched in his usual posture behind the baricade, but the beast was sound asleep. That deep slumber that always followed a well-fed belly.
Someone had managed to get the beast to eat.
And judging by the placement of the empty plates in the hallway instead of the room, this person had not only succeeded in feeding the beast but had also hand-fed it.
Grand Lord Vladya was too stunned to speak.
“Yaz,” he finally managed to utter when he found his voice.
His trusted soldier emerged from the corner. “Yes, Your Highness?”
“Did all the guards on duty leave when you gave the command for them to vacate the premises?”
“Yes, my lord. I was the last to leave.”
Vladya’s gaze wandered, taking in other details.
The surroundings appeared cleaner. The paintings seemed freshly acquired. The walls gleamed as if they were new, and even the sculpted lion head sparkled.
“They assigned a slave to work here.” Vladya did not ask it as a question.
Yet, Yaz confirmed, “Seems like it. This place looks astonishing. Almost like the old days…” He trailed off abruptly, realizing the inadvisability of his words.
No one with wisdom would dare speak of the old days, especially not to Grand Lord Vladya. “I beg your forgiveness for my wayward tongue, my lord.”
Lord Vladya waved him off, his mind preoccupied. He had personally dismissed all the workers who used to tend to the Abyss Land. Not because he enjoyed the accumulation of dust, but because, for some inexplicable reason, Daemonikai’s beast would grow highly agitated in their presence.
The feral creature had broken free on numerous occasions, tearing several workers apart. Since then, he had decided it was best to cease any work in this area.
Though it had been several years—three or four, he had lost track.
He was utterly baffled. Someone had labored here for hours, thoroughly cleaning, and had managed to avoid being torn apart by the beast.
Not just that, the creature had accepted food from this person.
“I want to know the identity of the slave who worked here. Gather all the necessary information on this slave and bring it to me. I desire the details upon my return from the hunting trip.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
With a mix of astonishment and relief, Lord Vladya departed, his mood somewhat improved.
••••••••
The night prior to the introduction, Emeriel had just finished his work in the minefield. Now, he waited by the corner, casting his gaze upon the river.
He longed to take his bath, but he needed everyone to depart first. Given that the fortress housed numerous slaves with only one river allocated for their ablutions, there was always a slave or two present at any given time of the day.
Thus, most slaves paid little heed to privacy and joined others in the river, attending to their own needs.
Usually, Emeriel waited until nighttime or even midnight to secure the river for himself. However, tonight proved particularly challenging, for news of the impending introduction of slaves had reached everyone.
His heart skipped a beat at the reminder.
Emeriel had yet to recover from hearing that announcement the day before. Now, concealed from sight in the woods, his back pressed against a tree, he observed the excited commotion of the bathing slaves.
Unlike him, most others seemed elated about the Introduction.
“If you capture the attention of a lord, he may issue a decree to purchase you, do you not know?” Martha, one of the slaves he worked alongside in the minefield, gushed earlier that day. “He could make you his personal slave. No more arduous labor, no more harsh beatings. You would be elegantly dressed like a mistress and solely serve a lord! Oh, how I yearn for a lord to choose me!”
Emeriel pondered the idea, his eyes fixed upon the night sky.
The stars clustered above, and the half-moon radiated its beauty. Would it truly be so terrible if a lord selected him?
But then, he scoffed at the thought. If the lord happened to be interested in men—which Emeriel was not—he would be so disappointed afterward that he might order Emeriel’s execution, would he not?
Even assuming that did not transpire, Emeriel could not bear the notion of his life revolving around spreading his legs, being used for carnal pleasure by a random Urekai day after day. His entire existence narrowed to that. The mere thought of it sent shivers down his spine.
The rustle of leaves on the ground alerted him to someone’s presence nearby.
He looked up and relaxed upon seeing Aekeira walking towards him. His sister offered a gentle smile, which he reciprocated, concealing his worries behind that smile so as not to burden Aekeira.
“The river is gradually emptying,” Aekeira remarked as she closed the distance between them.
“What are you doing here?” Emeriel scanned their surroundings, momentarily apprehensive that a Urekai soldier might chance upon them and reprimand Aekeira for straying too far from the southern wing.
“Do not fret, Madam Livia granted me permission. I wish to bathe with you tonight,” Aekeira settled beside him.
“You have a splendid bathing setup in your chambers, Keira,” Emeriel sighed. “That room is the sole luxury afforded to you as the beast’s service slave, and you should revel in it to the fullest. You should not be here.”
“Oh, hush. I desire to bathe together, just like old times when we engaged in countless mischievous exploits,” Aekeira’s smile widened. “Do you recall when we used to go scavenger hunting in King Orestus’s garden?”
Unbidden, a smile spread across Emeriel’s face. How could he forget? “He would grow so furious his face turned red. It was always entertaining to witness his changing complexion.”
“Those were the good old days.”
“Then, we would venture into the woods and engage in pretend battles all day long.” Emeriel added.
“Mama worried herself sick searching for us on one occasion. I was never proud of that.”
“Yes, likewise. But we were children,” Emeriel glanced at his sister. “I miss Mom.”
Aekeira’s smile turned sorrowful. “As do I. I am certain she resides in the heavens, watching over us and keeping us safe.”
No, Emeriel was not certain of that, so he remained silent. The uncertainty reflected on his sister’s face as well.
All those teachings under the moonlight about departed loved ones watching over and safeguarding the living—Emeriel was beginning to perceive the falsehood in those claims.
Surely, if their parents truly watched over them, they would have encountered at least a modicum of luck in this cruel fate they shared, right?
“Regarding the introduction…” Aekeira’s voice interrupted his thoughts, “…I heard that not everyone will be compelled to undress. The lords will handpick those who catch their eye and disrobe them. Therefore, who knows, they may never choose you. Or perhaps the lords will be hesitant to select a male, correct?”
Emeriel emitted another snort. “Urekais do not conceal their desires for whom they want to mount, be it male or female. You know that. I am more concerned for you, Kiera. I do not wish for you to suffer any further.”
“I am not worried about myself; it is you I fear for. I am terrified of what will transpire in that court tomorrow.” Silence enveloped them thereafter.
“Come now, everyone has departed. Let us bathe,” Aekeira declared, extending her hand, which Emeriel accepted. Together, they made their way towards the river.
Aekeira remained on high alert throughout their bath. Although Emeriel spent most of the time with his body submerged in the river, only his head above water, Aekeira positioned herself protectively, shielding him from anyone’s view at all times.
•••••••••
THE GRAND HIGH COURT
They stood in front of the court, clad in the slaves’ formal attire—a short, fitted dress that barely reached their knees.
They gathered on one side of the enormous court, their eyes fixed on the lords seated around the round table, a lavish feast spread before them.
The table was adorned with an abundance of flowers, and some lords had brought their own slaves, who were made to dine at their masters’ feet, wearing unique collars around their necks.
Emeriel gazed at the Urekai Court, awestruck and horrified. He had never seen so many lords gathered before.
They were all dressed elegantly, yet their eyes held a glimmer of hatred and cruelty as they stared at the humans before them.
The herald announced the entrance of the grand lords, prompting everyone to stand and those already standing to straighten.
The imposing doors swung open, and the thrio entered. Cloaked in their customary white garments, their flowing fabric exuded grace.
Today, the attire was adorned with gold embroideries, adding to their majestic appearance.
The irony did not get past Emeriel. These males donned pristine white robes, yet their hearts were as dark as coal.
The grand kings took their seats on their thrones, before the crowd followed. As they settled, the esteemed Lord of Ceremonial Affairs stood, commanding attention as he addressed the high court.
“Ladies and gentlemen, today we assemble not only for our customary banquet ceremony but also to mark the auspicious occasion of introducing and unveiling the new slaves the Urekais have acquired over the past year. This gathering is a testament to the continuity of our traditions and the expansion of our noble household. As we partake in this joyous event, let us celebrate the prosperity and growth of our realm.”
Nods of agreement rippled through the crowd as the lord resumed his seat. Another lord rose to continue where the first had left off, and Emeriel’s mind drifted.
His nerves overwhelmed him, his mouth felt dry, and his palms were sweaty.
The binding cloth wrapped around his chest today was exceptionally tight, meant to really flatten his B??@Å¡?s since he only wore a single tunic that was not loose-fitting.
Aekeira’s hand covered his.
He looked at her face, finding comfort in her nervous smile. Despite his fear for his sister’s well-being, her presence beside him provided solace.
“Let the feast begin!” the voice announced, drawing Emeriel back to the present. Heads nodded in agreement, and applause filled the hall. Things seemed to be going well—so far no one has summoned any slave. Perhaps it would only get better—
“You, you, and you,” a lord’s voice boomed, his finger pointing at three slaves simultaneously. “Strip,” he ordered.
The slaves stepped forward and began to undress. Emeriel swallowed his nervousness, his hands squeezing Aekeira’s for support.
“You there, with the wavy auburn hair, step forward and undress,” commanded another lord. The slave obeyed, stepping forward to follow the order.
More orders were given, and more slaves complied. Some lords didn’t give orders; instead, they rose from their seats to personally inspect the slaves.
Fingers groped slaves, touching their B??@Å¡?s and their backsides. The inspection left no part untouched. If the lords liked what they felt, they commanded the slave to undress for them.
Soon, the hall was filled with feasting and “celebration.”
Slaves knelt naked, providing oral pleasure to the lords who commanded them.
Some were sprawled out on the round table, their bodies touched by several hands of several lords.
Others were bent over, while the Lords took them from behind.
Some were ordered to take the podium naked and dance for the hall.
As time passed, the crowd of slaves standing in presentation thinned until only a few remained. Exposed. Nowhere to hide.
Then, Grand Lord Zaiper’s gaze fell upon Emeriel. He pointed straight at him and commanded, “The boy. Come forward. I want you to undress.”
Emeriel’s feet froze on the spot. While others had hurried forward to comply with the orders, he couldn’t bring himself to move.
Unlike others who had to raise their voice to be heard, the grand lords spoke their commands in a steady tone, but still everyone heard it. When a grand lord spoke, everyone took notice.
“What are you doing?” a slave beside Emeriel nudged him urgently. “Do you want to lose your head? Move forward and undress,” she whispered sharply.
No, Emeriel didn’t want to offer his head on a platter for the lords to feast upon. His legs found their strength, and he strode forward.
In the open, his trembling fingers reached for the hem of his tunic, and he began to undress.
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