BEAST'S SLAVE - CHAPTER 34
At the Grand High Court, the air was filled with anticipation as the celebration of the bountiful harvest commenced. The hall, adorned with lavish decorations, overflowed with lords and the privileged class, indulging in an abundance of food and drink.
Outside, the common folk gathered in the arenas, reveling in the festivities. The fortress teemed with a joyful crowd, both within the Grand High Court and throughout the compound.
Emeriel found himself serving drinks in the High Court alongside the other slaves who hadn’t been introduced, like him. Laughter and cheers filled the air as the joyous lords celebrated and eagerly awaited the arrival of the grand kings.
Lord Gaff, the overseer of Ceremonial Affairs, addressed the gathering while they clinked their glasses together. Some lords were already indulging in segzual acts with their slaves, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“This year’s harvest may not have matched the abundance of the previous year, but it still provided us with more than enough. Let us drink to the prosperity of our realm while we await the arrival of our grand lords,” Lord Gaff announced, and the crowd erupted in cheers, raising their glasses in unison.
Emeriel tried to conceal his anxiety, which had been building since the gathering of the crowd and the commencement of the ceremony. He longed for all these to be over already
. His eyes sought out Lord Herod, who was smiling and enjoying a drink while engaged in conversation with another lord. Herod’s slave sat dutifully at his feet.
“Slave, bring more wine here!” a lord barked at Emeriel, interrupting his thoughts. He quickly obeyed the command, rushing off to fulfill the order.
If you avoid drawing too much attention to yourself, you should be fine. Blend in with the crowd. Mingle with the other slaves.
The pep talk wasn’t helping much, but it aided him in maintaining focus. He caught sight of Aekeira in her green garment, serving food at the far end of the court to the privileged families who had been invited to partake in the Harvest celebration.
The slaves who had been introduced were stationed in a different corner of the vast court, clad in green attire, while Emeriel and the others like him donned red garments.
At least, he felt relieved that Aekeira would not be subjected to harm in the court today.
The familiar sound of trumpets signaled the arrival of the rulers, and a loud shout followed, “All rise for the arrival of our esteemed rulers:
His Majesty, Grand Lord Zaiper, the almighty second sovereign ruler of Urai and the sole leader of Greyrock: The Northern Wings!
His Majesty, Grand Lord Vladya, the almighty third sovereign ruler of Urai and the sole leader of Blackstone: The Western Wings!
His Majesty, Grand Lord Ottai, the almighty fourth sovereign ruler of Urai and the sole leader of Mabblewood: The Eastern Wings!
All hail the grand rulers!”
Everyone in attendance was already standing, and they performed a deep, full bow as the grand entrance opened and the rulers made their way in. Emeriel dutifully bowed along with the rest of the court, joining in the chorus of “All hail the grand rulers.”
“You may all rise,” announced Grand Lord Zaiper after they had taken their seats, and everyone straightened up. The lords sat down, and the slaves resumed their duties.
The grand entrance opened once again, and the mistresses paraded in. There were at least ten of them, some being daughters of the lords, others belonging to the grand lords, and amongst them were bloodhosts.
Emeriel recognized one amongst them—Mistress Sinai, the bloodhost to Grand King Daemonikai. She was the lady who had ordered him to be whipped.
As if on cue, Mistress Sinai’s gaze locked onto Emeriel, and she glared at him with intensity.
Emeriel simply averted his eyes. He didn’t know why the mistress seemed to h@?? him as a person, but the feeling was very mutual; Emeriel didn’t like her either. Nevertheless, it was best to avoid her completely, and steer clear of her path.
With the grand lords in attendance, the main ceremony commenced. As the rulers enjoyed their food and drink, they delved into political discussions. Emeriel tuned out their conversations, focusing on his assigned tasks.
“You’re such a pretty boy,” remarked one of the lords when Emeriel dropped off some orders. The lord’s large hand cupped his buttock and squeezed.
Like all the other slaves, Emeriel tried not to react. Hastily, he placed the drink down and moved away before the lord’s hand could wander any further.
A few feet away, Emeriel stopped as he witnessed Arang, one of the male slaves, being ordered to his knees by another lord. The lord proceeded to stuff the slave’s mouth with his segz organ.
Another lord glanced meaningfully at Emeriel and smirked, “That’s what pretty boys are made for.”
Emeriel swallowed hard, feeling a surge of fear. He quickly hurried away, before that lord decided to use him the same way.
When he returned with the wine he had been ordered to deliver, he dropped it on the table and turned to leave.
“Hey, pretty boy. Come here,” a voice commanded.
Emeriel froze, his hand clutching his doublet tightly. It was the same lord Emeriel had thought he had escaped.
He could choose to keep walking, pretending he hadn’t heard anything. But that would be unwise because the lord would likely persist and he would draw the unwanted attention of other lords to himself.
Reluctantly, Emeriel turned and walked toward the lord, keeping his head lowered. However, as he approached, a large figure suddenly blocked his path.
“I chose you first. What are you doing serving drinks when you should be serving me?” a deep voice growled, low enough not to interrupt the political discussions but loud enough for the other lord to hear.
Emeriel glanced up and saw Lord Herod.
Relief washed over him, almost causing his knees to buckle. He forced himself to remain composed, not wanting to reveal his familiarity with Lord Herod. Lowering his head again, Emeriel spoke, “I apologize, my lord.”
Lord Herod firmly grabbed his arm and led him away, back to his seat at the roundtable.
Emeriel sat on the floor at Lord Herod’s left, while his slave sat at his right, both with their heads lowered like dutiful servants awaiting their master’s command.
“I want to officially announce my intention to eliminate the feral beast of our grand king,” Grand Lord Zaiper declared, drawing Emeriel’s attention back to the court.
Some lords, with goblets in their mouths, instantly spat out their drinks.
Spoons hung mid-air, and those intending to take a sip froze with gaping mouths.
Even the lords getting all kinds of oral pleasures from slaves, stilled.
All eyes turned to Grand Lord Zaiper, and the court fell into a sudden hush. But the silence was short-lived as murmurs began to ripple through the crowd. Slowly at first, then escalating into a cacophony of voices.
“Order in the court! Order in the court!” one of the court officials shouted, but the noise only intensified.
“Quiet, everyone,” Grand Lord Zaiper commanded. The murmurs didn’t cease immediately, as they would have if it were Grand Lord Vladya’s orders, Emeriel noted. But gradually, it died down. Grand Lord Zaiper rose to address the court.
“I understand that most of us here did not expect to hear this, but I have given it a lot of thought. For the safety of our people, I believe it would be best to eliminate the feral beast. We all witnessed the events months ago when Grand King Daemonikai’s beast broke free and went on a rampage, causing devastation. On that night, we lost forty of our own. Regrettably, it was not the first incident over the years.
I am certain King Daemonikai would not have wanted this. To ki|| the same people whom he fought to protect for thousands of years.Our king is gone forever, and his beast must follow suit.”
The court remained eerily silent.
The once festive atmosphere had transformed into one of sadness and melancholy. Some males swallowed hard, while some females were on the verge of tears.
Grand Lord Zaiper wore a saddened expression as he continued, “I understand that we may not feel prepared for this, but it has been five centuries. The truth is, we will never be fully prepared. And that is okay. We owe it to our great king to allow him to rest peacefully with our ancestors. For five hundred years, he has suffered, trapped between worlds. He has not taken physical form since he ran wild, and his mind is long gone. Yet, we keep him here. Causing him pain. Torturing him. He deserves better. He deserves to rest.”
For some reason, Emeriel felt his heart constricting, and a profound sadness settled within him. He couldn’t fathom why.
ki||ing the beast is a good idea, right?
His sister would no longer endure the excruciating pain of being mounted by the beast, and his own mind and body would stop playing tricks on him.
Even if he somehow belonged to that beast, its death would finally lay his strange feelings to rest, and eventually, he would stop thinking about the feral. So, the beast’s death should bring him relief, shouldn’t it?
So why did he feel such anguish in his chest? Like someone was shredding his heart apart.
Why did he feel on the verge of tears?
Grand Lord Zaiper continued, “He served us dutifully during his reign as our king. Now it is our turn to serve him and help him find peace. Let us end his suffering.”
Grand Lord Vladya felt a sickening sensation in his stomach. His heart was burned, as if someone had buried a sword in there and simply walked away.
He tightly gripped his writing quill until his hand trembled. Zaiper was a manipulative sonofa?îtçh, and Vladya struggled to resist the urge to rise and deliver a powerful blow to his face. It took all his willpower to restrain himself.
But everything he’s saying is the truth. That’s why it hurts so much, isn’t it?
Vladya swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. Because even though Zaiper was a manipulative jerk who only wanted the Daemonikai dead so he could ascend to the throne as the ultimate ruler, his words were also true.
Indeed, keeping that beast locked up in its feral state was a torture Daemonikai did not deserve. Simply because they were unable to let him go. Vladya knows this. The entire court is aware of it. And that is precisely why it hurts so much.
“I didn’t bring up this topic to dampen the festivities, but to make my intentions known to all of us. Officially. However, since tonight is the Harvest, let us continue with the celebration. We can discuss this further another day,” concluded Grand Lord Zaiper before retaking his seat.
Emeriel rubbed his bound chest, trying to ease the ache after that speech.
For a while, the atmosphere was filled with gloom. The joy extinguished.
It was well into the night when the spirit of merriment slowly began to return to the room.
Emeriel noticed that the introduction of slaves played a part in reviving the atmosphere. Truly, the Urekai did not jest when it came to their carnal desires.
By the time the naked slave dancers emerged to perform, the court was cheering, and the lords had returned to their segzual indulgences.
Emeriel’s fears finally dissipated. Throughout most of the night, he had remained safe at Lord Herod’s side.
Even during the introductions, the lords glanced at him briefly, expressed regret, and proceeded to select other slaves. He was safe.
Suddenly, his eyes caught a movement.
Mistress Sinai rose from her seat and gracefully approached the podium where the grand lords sat. She stood beside Lord Zaiper, lowered her head, and whispered something to him.
As she spoke, she glanced at Emeriel several times.
Lord Zaiper’s gaze shifted to Emeriel, settled, and narrowed. He locked eyes with Emeriel, piercing him with his stare.
Mistress Sinai straightened, smirked, and returned to her position.
“Lord of Trade, would you mind sharing that charming boy of yours with me?” Grand Lord Zaiper announced from the podium. “Hey, slave, get up and come here.”
Emeriel’s blood turned to ice.
He looked up at Lord Herod, their eyes meeting. Lord Herod sadly shook his head, silently conveying that there was nothing he could do.
Emeriel remained frozen, simply unable to get his body to move.
Zaiper straightened from his throne, “Do you dare defy my orders?” he barked as he leaned forward with furrowed brows.
“I would never even dream of it, Your Highness,” Emeriel rushed out, mustering the strength to stand on his weak legs.
As he walked away from the round table toward the center of the room, Emeriel knew that this time, he really was doomed.
This time, even Aekeira cannot save him. This time, no one has the power it would take to save him.
.
.
.