Life in Ravok [Valerius]

[Melenna]

61st of Spring 513 AV

“So much trouble—you're lucky I'm in a good mood.” The thick hand around Melpomene's neck squeezed harder, making the Konti wince as nails dug in and further restricted her breathing. She had found herself in the same place she had been not more than one month prior: in the hands of Captain Berain, plunderer and pillager of what was free in Mizahar. His crew dealt in all manner of illegal trade—everything from slaves to bootlegged spirits and drugs—and didn't care what law said anywhere as long as there was a way underneath it. He went to sea when he saw fit and led land caravans when he had the fancy, always making opportunity out of unwary travelers and merchants. From what she'd heard, however, his crew was just a piece of a much larger organism, and Ravok was just one of many roosts.

“What would you like us to do with her?” One of two men spoke as they waited near the door, both armed and very much irritated.

“That's a great question. What are we going to do with you?” Berain raised his free hand to run it gently down the side of her face, leaning so close that she could smell the hot liquor in his breath. “You already know what we do with insects like you, hm? I could hang you by the ankles and flog you until you're more blood than skin. I could bend you backwards bone by bone until every limb in that little body is broken. You'd be my pretty example for all the other foolish chattle—they tend to learn quicker than you do.”

Melpomene tried to turn her head away, both ruined hands already clenched around his forearm, but her face was already starting to turn blue. It wasn't the first time she'd been threatened by the captain, and for that reason, she didn't panic despite the lack of oxygen. All she had to do was wait until he was satisfied by her pain, let her hands fall away from him as the tears rolled down her cheeks.

“But you've always been the exception, haven't you? Treated like a princess among all my swine. What thanks do I get for that? What gratitude do I receive from this overfed pet? You attack my men and run off, ruin your own body and fight at every turn. It's exhausting, it stains my reputation, and as much pleasure as it would give me to snap this defiant little neck, I'm not going to. Because there's something worth more than petty satisfaction over a pest.” Here, Berain finally let go, shoving her body away where it collapsed on the floor. “Prepare her like the others and get rid of her!”

The men were more than happy to do his bidding, laying their hands on her upper arms and dragging her from the room. Her vision was still spinning by the time they made it back to the slave enclosure, but no one was there. Instead, she was thrown in the back of a canal boat and brought to a different section of the city, one where the air was dense with sweat and the streets much more narrow. No one bothered to inform her of what was going on, but she could already guess—it was finally time to sell the goods.

So rather than being thrown into the hands of more guards and prison keepers, she found herself in the company of fellow slaves. These ones she had never seen before, but they had no interest in talking or sharing scars. They ushered her into a small bath house where others like her were being “prepared,” stripping her down and drowning her in sudsy water until her scales shone like pearls. Even her hair was toweled dry, combed until it was soft as a baby chick fuzz and pulled back into a bun. As it turned out, the hairstyle was quite clever—it hid the unevenness of her hair and exposed the divine mark on the back of her neck. Rather than having her wounds tended to, however, she was powdered down and painted to hide the bruises and abrasion marks.

Her hands nothing could be done about, however. The cleaning slaves simply removed the bandages and gingerly wiped the dry blood away, powdering it down to minimize the effect. They did manage to clean her nails and clip them back, but despite being all the more pristine, the Konti only felt more sick. It didn't help that she was provided with no clothing once she was led out of the bathhouse, utterly exposed for breeze and eyes alike. The first thing she did was cover her chest with her arms, legs tensed together as she walked.

And she didn't want to walk, but every time she stopped or tried to turn around, the guards would lay their hands on her bare flesh and usher her forward. In this manner, she was escorted down a street of the slave market, only allowed to rest her feet once she was standing alongside a group of other female slaves, all of which were facing a crowd of impatient buyers. At that point, most of her breath was gone, goosebumps rampant on her skin as her cheeks flared with blood. The Konti was so humiliated that her eyes never left the ground, shoulders curved inwards as though she might fold in on herself.

As a parting insult to their former property, Berain's slavers sold personal belongings along with their slaves. Such items were ones they seized at the time of capture, things like jewelry, pets, and keepsakes. Formerly owned wedding rings, good luck charms, favorite books—few were even of moderate value, but most won looks of longing from their owners. These were placed within arm's reach and shown off like merchandise. To the slaves it was a painful reminder of a lost past; for the buyers, it was either a pleasure or an inconvenience to add a list of useless baubles; and to the sellers, it was the perfect opportunity to force more expense on an already pricey transaction.

Melpomene couldn't have cared less about her things—they belonged to a past she'd had to cast aside to survive. What did it matter if she'd had silk dresses and pleasant oils? They had been in the possession of her captors for some time, and would just fall into the hands of another. She was almost happy to hear the complaints when the nicknacks were brought up, glad that she and the other slaves could at least return some kind of inconvenience. It wasn't until she heard the sound of her lute being toyed with that she snapped, eyes narrowing at the merchant handling the instrument.

That lute was her finest and most precious possession, carved from the white bark of Konti Island's trees. Even its simple strings were formed from imported gut. The pegs were studded with small pearls and the nose of the instrument had the pattern of a lily carved around it, which was inset with a mixture of opal and glass. It wasn't likely that there was another such instrument of equal quality and beauty outside of the White Isle, but more importantly, there wasn't another such instrument that Melpomene had played with her friends. Memories came on their own, the phantom sounds of their songs whispering in her ears.

Come we from the isle of white
Ocean's diamond fair in sight
We are the water's purest hue
Old and fair as dawn's first dew

The reverie was cut short as Melpomene was dragged forward and placed at the front of the slaver's "stage." At first, she retained some shred of dignity, straightening herself out and lifting her chin. Her cheeks still burned with shame, but she allowed her arms to rest at her sides, turning around when she was bid and showing her teeth to let the buyers know they were still intact. Almost immediately, the crowd began making their remarks, yelling at the salesman her flaws to lower the price.

“Her hips are too small! Not good for breeding!”

“What are those marks on her hands? Have you even broken her yet?”

Melpomene's bottom lip began to tremble, toes curling and uncurling against the rough wood of the stage. The way they talked at her, and continued to talk at her was more than demeaning. She wasn't sure what she had expected when considering a master, but this... this was something else. It was as though she had become an animal, stripped of clothing, stripped of wealth, stripped of society, and stripped of respect. She truly had nothing, not even her own body. The slavers had taken every last shred of what had once been a sentient artist and left behind an object, a piece of flesh with no history and no future.

What was worse? She actually believed it.

[Valerius Nitrozian]

„I‘m going to the slave market!“ Valerius announced and looked at the young, dark skinned woman that sat on a bench in his quarters, mending a cloak of his that had been torn when he had been out hunting the other day. Tuuli looked up from her work. Her brown eyes were full of worry. „Master?“ she asked. „Are you not content with my work? Have I done something wrong?“ Despite his sometimes odd moods, despite his arrogance, his superiority complex and his many issues, Valerius Nitrozian was not a bad master. He didn’t hit her unless she deserved it, he always gave her enough to eat, and she had better clothes than many of the free citizens. Valerius looked at her for the longest time, wondering if he should bother answering. The girl was just a slave and had to do what he wanted anyway. Finally he told her, „No, I’m still content with your work. I merely want to take a look at the wares. I’ve heard that they have gotten a few interesting new deliveries. Maybe I’ll buy a slave as well. Would you like some company?“ Tuuli shrugged her shoulders. „If you wish, master. I’m certain that there is room for another slave in the house.“ She’d rather have Valerius to herself, especially since the last time he had brought another slave here had ended in such a disaster. The creature – a Kelvic – had killed one of the master’s guests and wrecked the dining room. But of course she didn’t tell him that she’d rather be his only slave. He was the master. He made the decisions. „I will return in a few bells“, he informed her. „Finish the cloak, and then walk the dog and make sure that there is a room ready in case I do return with a new slave.“ ~~~~ Some time later Valerius was on his way to the slave market, accompagnied by two male slaves that he had borrowed from the family for that occasion. A man like him didn’t go to the slave market alone, especially if his family’s competitors could be there. The Nitrozians were slavers – among other things – and Valerius wanted to impress the others. He was as always dressed after the newest fashion, in silk and velvet, black and silver, and his hair had been combed until it shimmered (Valerius Nitrozian was a vain man and cared about his appearance – sometimes too much). There was a rapier at his belt as well, although it was mostly for show. He had only had half a dozen fencing lessons – in his entire life. At the slave market most of the slaves were the usual kind: too many humans too count and a few Kelvic. Valerius didn’t want any more humans, and Kelvic were unreliable. He walked from stage to stage, briefly looking at the slaves were on display, but finding none of them particularly appealing. Finally he stood in front of Berain’s stage. The Konti caught his attention, at least long enough for him to stop for a moment and listen to what was being said about her. She was quite appealing, with her platinum blonde hair, her full lips and her blue gray eyes. Of course she would likely have trouble giving birth, considering how fragile she looked, but Valerius rarely bred his slaves or used them to satisfy his own needs. He mostly wanted them to look beautiful. Konti were rare. They were said to have unusual gifts, but still … „Does she speak our language?“ he wanted to know. „I haven’t heard her make a single sound yet. I want to be able to talk to my slaves. I want them to understand what I say. A slave that only speaks Kontinese – or is dumb – is of no use to me.“ “And of course I would like to know how she got hurt as well.“

[Melenna]

The crowd was growing larger. Melpomene angled herself slightly away, but she could not turn back. Even if those eyes were burning holes in her skin, even if those mouths barked like dogs, she simply had no choice. If she tried to run or otherwise rid herself of the slave merchant and his customers, the guards would come for her and the chance of being sold would diminish. She wanted to find herself in the hands of a kind master, but how did one find a kind master among such a group, much less one that she knew how to sell herself to? A decent man or woman able to afford a Konti wouldn't be in a slave market in the first place, she reasoned, and yet servitude is common in Ravok. Perhaps there is good, but it is a good that requires stunted perception to see.

While the Konti thought on the matter, the slave merchant was busy placating the questions and complaints. He wasn't one of Berain's crew, rather, a man that was paid far too much to do the simple job of introducing slaves to buyers. His had been the idea to wash and cover the imperfections of slaves, as he had been in the business for a while and knew the tricks of the trade. It only made it more appaling for Melpomene to watch him smile and gesture to a group of stripped women—why not show what had really been done to them, what kind of monster he truly was? There were none younger than ten and none older than forty, as they had been targeted for the purpose of selling while those outside of that range had not. It was hard to say which received the better fate, for while some had been outright murdered, others had been let go while all the rest were bound and dragged to unknown lands.

“Konti are naturally slim creatures—this is actually a mark of health.” That seemed easy enough for the merchant to say, but the next few questions made him bite thoughtfully on his lip. The irony was that he had no idea as to how or why Melpomene was wounded, but such “bumps and bruises” were more than typical from slavers like Berain. It wasn't his job to explain why slaves were treated like slaves; it was his job to sell them and nothing more. So he puffed out his chest after only the briefest interruption of thought, his thumbs comfortably stroking the collar of his fur coat. “Well, none of these creatures have been enslaved before, and sometimes there arises a certain attitude of rebellion. You can rest assured, however, that this fine specimen has learned her lesson. She'll be of no trouble to anyone.

“As for comprehending language, good Sir—”Here, the merchant's tone changed to a humbler one, and he even bowed his head towards the young man in the crowd—“I've never seen a Konti unversed in the Common tongue. But to rest all doubt, I'll have her say something for you.”

Melpomene's jaw clenched as the merchant smiled at her, beckoning her to speak. She had been protesting since her capture only to be silenced each time, and now that all ears were trained on her, she had no desire to talk. What was left of her pride urged her to say nothing, to defy to the end all evils placed upon her, but practicality told her to pipe up. If she did prove to be disagreeable, what kind of master would that attract? Surely someone that would want to break her. So even though her lips trembled, even though her skin crawled, she opened up her mouth.

“I am of the White Isle. Before I was brought before you, I was—”

“See?” The merchant clapped his hands, smiling a little too falsely at the rich young man. “Excellent comprehension and language. Perhaps it's time to open this one to offers?”

Melpomene had never been one inclined towards violence, but she found herself wanting to stick a fist up the man's mouth. There was so much she had to say, so much she did and didn't want to say, but in the end, it didn't matter. She'd given a fair enough example of Common—a language the majority of Mura was familiar with due to the amount of tourists. Her tone had simply lost its gentle melody, as she had once again gone too long without water and it cracked her voice.

There was something else that lingered after the anger, however. While the merchant didn't care about how's or why's, she found herself curious about the young man. She was so curious, in fact, that she lifted her gaze from the stage to find him. It was slightly difficult because he had already spoken and she'd missed it, but she wondered if it was possible to identify him by his song. His voice had been calm, edged with arrogance, but that didn't set him too far apart from the others. Her mind shifted through the various beats drifting on the wind, searching for something composed and yet virile, full of youth and full of control. In the end, it was her eyes, not her gift that found him—or rather, it was his eyes that found her.

Blue, bluer than the vibrant waves of the sea just before a storm. There was no gentleness to them, no warmth, and yet there was no malice. She was immediately inclined to think of a healer, of a man exposed to ugly sufferings that never unsteadied the sureness of his work. He could certainly look on an unclothed woman without shame, but Melpomene didn't know if that made her sad, afraid, or simply disgusted. The man seemed too young in her eyes to be stripped of such innocence, to not even blush in the presence of a naked stranger. And just like the others, he had spoken at her as though complaining about the faults of a horse—no pity, no wonder, and certainly no respect.

Yes, that voice belonged to those eyes. If they cared to look directly at her own, she would simply take her gaze back to the wood of the stage and pray. Things could get better or much worse, and she had so little control over them. Her heart was thus with Avalis, wishing that she would yet see something beautiful, even if it was only the scintillating light of a Chavi.

[Valerius Nitrozian]

As the crowd began to grow larger, Valerius ordered his two slaves to keep all those people away from him. Even though he wanted to impress them and attract attention, he absolutely couldn’t stand it if people invaded his personal space or – Rhysol forbid – accidentially touched him. Fortunately they were wise enough not to bother him today, and he could follow the sale in peace. He noticed a few flaws in the slaver’s sale pitch. He would certainly do a few things differently and word a few sentences differently if he were trying to make a sale. But he was wise and kept his mouth shut. He wouldn’t give his family’s competitors tips! His father would never forgive him! As the slaver assured them that the Konti’s slim stature was a sign of good health, he laughed a little. „More like a sign of not enough food“,[/b[ he murmurred, too softly for anybody to hear. A bit more loudly he asked, [b]„I assume she hasn’t suffered any permanent damage and her wounds are being treated? I don’t want her to die from gangrene a few days after I’ve bought her!“ As the Konti hesitated to speak, he furrowed his brow, and then, as it turned out that she wasn’t mute after all, he breathed a small sigh of relief – although he didn’t appreciate it that the slaver interrupted her. Her story might be of little interest to him, but Valerius always wanted to know where his slaves came from and who they had been before so that he could prepare for any problems that might arise. „More like adequate“, he corrected the slaver. „I’ve only heard her speak one and a half sentences in Common. Does she speak any other languages? Can she read and write?“ „I’ll offer you three hundred golden mizas“, he told the slaver after some thought. „She is hurt, she is stubborn, and she is untrained. It will take some time until she is ready to work for me. Besides I don’t trust your claim that she is supposed to be this thin.“

[Melenna]

The merchant was beside himself. It was bad enough having a flurry of sharp questions shot at him, but the offer—that's where it stung. His hands clasped so tightly that they turned white, the toothy smile on his face so rigid that it seemed he had turned to wax. Three hundred mizas? Three hundred mizas for the konti! It was an insult, it was ludicrous, it was robbery! But the young man was brazenly serious, and that made the entire crowd fall silent. No one offered a higher price, only whispers starting up.

Filthy Nitrozians! They mean to run me out of business! And yet the merchant couldn't deny the youth's cleverness. His questions had caught the unwary merchant off guard, and the fact that he had slapped a price at the end of them put him in a dicey dilemma. If he simply accepted the paltry sale, he wouldn't have to answer questions, just shove the slave at him and move on to the others. If he wanted to barter the price back up to something decent, then he'd have to convince the young man that the konti was indeed worth it—a venture that could damage his credibility further.

Why couldn't anyone else want to pay more for the konti so he could ignore the bothersome boy? But the answer was obvious: who would pay more for something a Nitrozian thought was three hundred mizas? No one knew slaves better than them, and anyone who thought they did certainly didn't make the same profit. It was a painful realization, and the merchant couldn't help but curse his bad luck. If Berain had simply taken care of the girl, he would have so much more to work with! Instead, he found himself cornered by some pretty Nitrozian boy—one who only had to stuff the creature full of food and bandage the wounds for a few weeks if he wanted to sell her again for five times the price.

So the merchant took a long moment to size up Valerius, eyes narrowing slightly when he didn't like what he saw. Black was a dull color, but the sheen of the young man's fabric was fine and smooth, complimenting the silver buttons. It also brought out his pale and perfect complexion (although the merchant could swear he saw the lightest smattering of freckles), which was so soft that it starkly contrasted the metal of his eyes. The boy meant business, and he likely wasn't going to leave until he made a bargain on the konti or harangued the quality of the slaves until no one would buy them.

“You drive a hard bargain, Sir! A ridiculous one, in fact.” The merchant folded his arms, half talking to himself. For a moment, it almost seemed that he wouldn't give in, but then his arms reached out, an easy smile on his face. “No product is perfect, of course, but this is about as close as it gets. Three hundred mizas for the konti it is! I'm sure she can take care of your questions.”

With little ceremony, Melpomene's arm was taken by one of the guards standing near the stage, who dragged her forward along with a small wooden trunk. The merchant wasted no time in bringing forward another slave and advertising on as though neither Melpomene or her new master didn't exist—he didn't want to dwell on the massive slight. Undoubtedly, Berain would take the deficit of the prospected profit straight from his pay, but even that was better than earning the wrath of one of Ravok's major families. With any luck, the horrible young man would just take his bargain and leave the rest of his business for the day alone.

Melpomene had a slightly different experience from the whole exchange. She couldn't understand what the young man wanted from her, why he would want to converse with her or have her read and write for him. From the way the slavers had treated her, she had thought slaves were simply beasts to be ordered around—fetch this, deliver that, stand here, fix that—but he seemed to have something else in mind. What that could be was a mystery, as she didn't understand how she was “untrained” or not prepared for work. Did he mean for her to be a scribe, a companion, a maid? Or did he just want to shove a bridle in her mouth and make her carry him across the canals?

These thoughts came to an abrupt halt as she was taken from the stage and towards Valerius. Her only protest was a surprised squeak as rough fingers closed around her sensitive flesh, her other arm covering what it could of her chest. She was left in front of the young man's slaves, and as soon as he paid up (if he was indeed willing to put his money down), he'd be free to do whatever he chose. At any rate, he was afforded a closer look and could receive answers in full from the merchandise (and its possessions) itself before making his final decision.

[Valerius Nitrozian]

Valerius looked at the slaver who seemed to be quite shocked coldly. He didn’t correct his offer – although the Konti was certainly worth far more than three hundred mizas, despite her sorry state – but simply waited for what the slaver would say. Although Valerius came from one of the wealthiest families of Ravok, he never spent more than was absolutely necessary, and thus he wouldn’t raise his offer unless the slaver refused to sell her. This wasn’t some kind of charity event after all. He cast a brief glance at the people that stood around him, wondering if they would dare to make a higher offer. But fortunately they knew what was good for them and decided to stay quiet, so he focused his attention on the slaver again. „I do“, he replied as the man told him that he drove a hard bargain. „It’s good that you’ve decided to accept my offer. I will remember that.“ Three hundred goldem mizas quickly exchanged hands, and then Valerius finally turned to the Konti. „You are mine now“, he informed her. „It seems as if your former owner had no idea how to advertise his wares properly and couldn’t tell me what you are capable of. Can you read and write? Do you possess some kind of formal education?“ „I’d rather not put up with an uncivilized barbarian, even if she comes from the White Isle.“ His gaze fell on her wounds. „These will be treated once we are at my house. You will also receive clothes.“ The briefest hint of a frown was visible on his face as he looked at her chest. „I’m Valerius, of House Nitrozian, and you should consider yourself lucky to belong to my family.“ He didn’t bother to introduce the two slaves behind him that reacted quite unlike him to her nudity and couldn’t entirely keep their eyes off her. „Now come. The Nitrozian Estate isn’t far. I assume you are a sensible woman and won’t try to escape? I’d hate to have to use handcuffs or a rope considering your current state.“

[Melenna]

Melpomene shivered in the open air, arms wrapped around herself as the young man did indeed put his money where his mouth was. A strange sensation had crawled up her spine when the mizas had been exchanged—was her worth truly measured in mizas now, and so few? The thought made her eyes misty and touched with surprise when Valerius spoke. It wasn't too long ago when she would have found such a greeting utterly cruel, but already his approach was more gentle than that of the slavers. Her lips parted to begin an answer to his questions, only to fall back into a trembling line as went on about her being a “barbarian” and introduced himself.

“I'm...” The first thing Melpomene wanted to do was deny that she could ever be some “uncivilized barbarian,” but contradicting the man probably wasn't the best way to begin things. She swallowed and dipped her head, too timid in her nudity to look at him directly. “I can read and write in the language of my people, as well as yours. My grandmother educated me in the way of the world and men; my study is that of music.”

It might have been meet for her to express her name as well, but Valerius hadn't asked for it, and it seemed he was already keen on leaving (much to the slave merchant's relief). The konti looked down at her hands, her expression full of melancholy as she stared at the star shaped cuts the barbs had left. She should have been relieved at the notion of receiving care and clothing, but all she felt was a strange, empty apathy. Why should she care about her own body if it wasn't her own? All she wanted at the moment was to not be paraded about Ravok's streets so very exposed, but that didn't seem to be on Valerius' mind.

“I won't be any trouble—I am yours.” Melpomene said the last part with some hesitation, but in her mind, it was true. He owned her not because he had paid for her, but because there was no one else who could provide a home for her. She had no place she could run, no place she could safely reside without being a slave. Perhaps she was lucky to belong to his family, and perhaps he wasn't, but she didn't intend on making any show of it, hoping to be delivered at his estate with as little attention as possible. The looks Valerius' men were giving her made her nervous enough.

[Valerius Nitrozian]

Valerius arched an eyebrow as Melpomene told him that she had studied music. „Which instrument do you play?“ he wanted to know. He had initially thought of ordering her help Tuuli with his quarters and serve his guests, but if she had studied music it would be a shame to turn her into another chambermaid. Maybe, he thought, she could help him with his little secret that was so unbecoming of a man of his station. ~~~ The Nitrozian Estate that was located on the northern side of the Noble District was composed of three buildings. The largest and most luxurious one housed Lord Sitanos Nitrozian and his family. That was where Valerius took Melpomene. The guards that stood in front of the door didn’t react at all at the sight of a naked Konti. They were used to new slaves being brought into the house on a regular basis and simply opened the door for Valerius. „This is my family’s house“, Valerius explained to Melpomene as they stood in the large entrance hall. „My family own a few hundred slaves, but you will only be the second slave that I personally have bought. As he said this a dark skinned young woman in her late teens appeared and looked at Melpomene with a small frown. The Konti would notice that she was well dressed in white linen, that she didn’t have any obvious marks from beatings and didn’t suffer from malnutrition. „This is my other slave, Tuuli. She will give you something to wear and treat your wounds.“ He turned to Tuuli who was still frowing a little. „Tuuli, when you are done, bring her to my suite. I wish to talk to her.“ With that he turned around. Before he ascended the stairs to his quarters he faced Melpomene once more though and asked, „What’s your name by the way?“

[Melenna]

Melpomene had been so surprised by the man's interest in her talent that it had taken her a moment to answer. The slavers had rarely let her speak, much less make music. In truth, she hadn't been exactly eager to play for them, either, but there was a relief in touching the harmony of her strings—it was a world to get lost in and a way to let the feelings out of her heart. She had owned such a fine lute, too, and with it an extensive set of memories she was keen to shove away. At the end of her spout of thoughts, she had finally confessed that she had played almost any kind of instrument there was on Konti Island (and there were certainly more than a few), but that her specialty lay in the harp and the lute. There had been so much more to explain, but it had not been a time for bantering, and the young man had not asked for more.

There was a slight beam of hope in the konti, however, as she was led to her new prison. While she still knew little of what Valerius wanted with her, the kind of questions he asked seemed almost friendly. He had wanted to know how capable she was of communication, and then he was curious about her music—was it too much to guess that she might be allowed to play? To share his society rather than being held silent under it? She was burning to know, to learn just how much was being hidden under the Nitrozian's icy eyes. Though she didn't yet have the nerve to ask her questions, that would likely change when she had some decent clothing.

Until then, she had to keep her feet steady as she was led barefoot across Ravok's streets. Her eyes were fixed on the wood of the boardwalks, ignoring all eyes and words that may have been directed at her. Occasionally, she'd look to the noble who had bought her, taking note of the brisk gait of his walk and the way he wore his clothes. Velvets and silvers begged a grace of body not all people had, revealing lazy lumps and making the imperfections of any figure shimmer for all to see. Valerius was one who had earned the elegance—the firm set of his back and shoulders along with the subtle curvature of muscle revealed a body that was far from neglected. It rendered the konti utterly helpless in her own trail of thoughts, and she wondered how well he could dance.

Only when they reached the Nitrozian estate did Melpomene bother to look around. The houses were unlike anything she'd ever seen, dominating the skyline and utterly barren of nature. They still had a strange sort of beauty about them, bright with seemingly endless patterns dripping down the doors and windows. For one who had found a certain kind of art displayed in a simple human tavern, the fine paint and sculpture of a noble house was almost overwhelming. How many artisans had it taken to build so much, and where had they drawn their inspiration from? Ravok was a dark place ruled by a wicked god—despite the rumors she'd heard, it wasn't supposed to be pretty.

Melpomene could see it, though, in the marbled reflection of the family's house in the water. It only became more prevalent when she was led inside, where she was treated to the plush feel of carpet and the cool kiss of shaped metal that made up the stair rails. So grand it was that she barely heard Valerius mention his family and slaves, too caught up in the thought of how many stories each inch of the place told. The paintings, the polished furniture, the immense and clear glass windows had all been put there by someone, and someone used them every day. What tales did they have to tell?

Perhaps I truly am a barbarian here... there's so much order, control over all that was once nature's. Is this Rhysol's power, or that of his followers despite his influence? Melpomene would have been lost in thoughtful admiration for hours if the mention of Tuuli hadn't brought her mind immediately back to her situation. Her skin flushed with remembered embarrassment, and she had managed to offer a gentle bow of her head towards the girl before Valerius fired off another question.

“Melpomene Elastria.” Melpomene spoke softly—perhaps so much so that her master on the stairs couldn't quite catch the words—but they had been more directed at Tuuli than him. She tried to smile at the fellow slave, but her lips were taut and only became puckered from the attempt. Tuuli was just too young, too pretty with her slim curves and gentle eyes to belong to a master. She reminded the konti too much of others left behind, not just friends, but the young women who were still standing bare before a number of callous buyers. It made her eyes narrow with sadness, but there was also joy, hope at the thought that she might have someone to befriend. Life as a slave had been miserable not only in the harsh treatment, but the fact that one was always separated from those one came to care for.

“It's nice to meet you. Do you... do you happen to have any apple leaves or lemon balm? Lavender oil? I can handle bandages if you could take me to some clothes, Tuuli.” Melpomene figured she'd leave the rest of her questions for later—it wouldn't be wise to gossip about Valerius while he was still standing there.

[Valerius Nitrozian]

After Melpome had given him her name, Valerius left for his quarters. As soon as he was out of sight, Tuuli turned to face her master’s newest purchase. The girl still didn’t look particularly happy. Valerius had assured her that everything was alright, that he hadn’t gotten tired of her, but she still couldn’t help but wonder. She had always suspected that he preferred the more exotic races. There were so many human women – slaves and servants - in the Nitrozian Estate, but he had never seemed to be attracted to any of them. The Konti was beautiful or at least would be once her wounds had healed and she had had a bath and received some clothes, she could tell that. Would she serve him from now on? Clean his suite? Walk his dog? Entertain his guests? Maybe he would pass her, Tuuli, on to his Aunt Amanda, the scientist, the torturer. She shivered a little as she thought of that. She knew that she was being paranoid, that her thoughts were highly irrational, but she couldn’t stop them. „What do you need apple leaves for?“ she wanted to know. Her curiosity had gotten the better of her. „I can give you lemon balm of course – and lavender oil – but I’m not sure if we have apple leaves here. As for the clothes, come with me. I think we’ll find something that will fit you.“ „So“, she asked as she led Melpomene to the room where the clothes for the slaves were kept. „How much did he pay for you?“ She wondered if she should proceed to tell Melpomene a couple of lies about her master and give her a few tips for dealing with him – entirely the wrong tips, so that he would get mad at her and take her back to the slave market – but she wasn’t quite that mean. Tuuli was jealous and scared, but she had always been a rather honest and gentle woman. She didn’t harm people on purpose. Besides, Valerius was easy enough to anger as it was. Maybe the problem would solve itself.