Chieftain Ch. 01

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(Author's note: This is the first entry in what is planned to be a much longer tale. This chapter features no sex, but establishes characters and settings for future entries, including the intentionally nameless hero. Influences are many, but I have read much before writing, and it is my sincere hope to offer something at least novel, if not unique. I am certainly open to all feedback. Thank you, and please enjoy.)

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The chieftain rode into the clearing on a strong black steed, flanked by his two most trusted warriors. He wore well tanned leather armor, with a fine sheepskin about his shoulders. At his side hung the short, single-handed sword once wielded by his father. He was what the empire termed a barbarian. But of course, having no knowledge of more civilized lands, he held the highest office and esteem known to his people. Not yet middle aged, he was still in his physical prime, with broad shoulders, a strong jaw, and proud, experienced eyes.

He saw the emcampment for the foolishness it was. These people clearly had no idea how to survive in this wilderness, and would likely be gone before year's end. Still, he was here to do his duty as the leader of his people.

He was un-challenged by any guard as he rode towards the lavish tent at the center of the encampment, though he knew he was being watched from many an angle. These people were fools, yes, but they were not stupid. The chieftain knew that these were not the same thing. Perhaps he could bring them into the tribe, with a little guidance.

"Greetings, outlander," he spoke to the single guard at the entrance of the large, finely ordained tent, "I am here to speak with your leader."

"She will see you now, but your weapons must stay here," the guard responded.

"She?" the chieftain asked in disbelief. He looked to his warriors, who erupted with laughter. "Kirtuk, stay outside with the weapons."

The elder warrior stifled his amusement, "Aye."

The guard simply nodded, as the chieftain dismounted, removed his sword, and entered the tent, followed by his lone remaining companion.

Inside the tent, he was taken aback by what he saw.

Perched atop a high dais were two richly crafted chairs, covered in jewels such as he had never seen. One of these chairs was empty. The other was occupied by an undeniably beautiful woman, clothed in fine silk that left her belly bare. She wore no shoes as she sat straight, arms resting on the arms of the chair. Her dark hair was long and straight, cascading over her shoulders as she looked down upon the chieftain.

He was equally shocked by the girl sitting not in the second, vacant chair, but on the ground at the other's feet. She was completely nude, save a metal collar locked about her neck, and she was gorgeous. Her breasts were firm, and her body was toned. She had dark hair as well, cut short above her shoulders, and piercing blue eyes, though she only met those of the chieftain for an instant before averting her gaze. He could not help but notice that there was no hair between the girl's legs.

The woman in the dress spoke, "You are come before me, Sakara, daughter of Lune, the one true Emporer."

"You are a guest in our lands," the chieftain replied. This was a customary greeting among his people, and afforded this foreigner great honor, though as a woman she scarce deserved such.

Sakara did not respond. Rather, she stood, and slowly descended her dais, one step at a time, until she stood opposite the chieftain. He could see now why she needed a stage. She was shorter than he, and must have trouble commanding men without the aid of theatrics.

"I think the barbarian needs to see a map," she said over her shoulder. The nude woman stood and quicly scampered to do as she was bid. She brought a roll of parchment which was spread on a side table before the chieftain and his one remaining warrior.

"I assume you are unable to read," Sakara stated. There was no question in her tone.

The chieftain was unfamiliar with the very concept, and so only grunted in reply.

"Where we now stand is here," she said as she leaned over the map and pointed, "This is the Westernmost Territory of the one true Empire. As an imperial subject, this at least you should know." She paused, then continued, "It is customary to kneel in the presence of the very high born."

The chieftain's remaining warrior chuckled, "Woman, you forget yourself. This man is chieftain of these lands. Where is your father?"

"My father is in the Imperial Capitol. For the way you just spoke to me, you should pray you never meet him, barbarian." Sakara turned her gaze back to the chieftain. "Perhaps I should find another to sit the high throne of governor in this territory." With her eyes she indicated the chair adjacent to the one in which she herself had been seated.

"You offer me a chair?" the chieftain asked. "I have many chairs."

"I offer you honor, and authority among our people," she answered, "You are a simple people, and perhaps do not understand the might of the Empire. Our armies number greater than you can imagine. Our reach extends across the known world. How many tribes do you command in these lands?"

"We are one tribe."

"One? Truly. How many warriors?"

"Do not answer her, my chief. She is a woman. Could she even understand such matters, this is not wise to discuss with a potential enemy," the warrior interrupted.

"Silence, Karvol. I will speak as I choose," the chieftain snapped back.

Sakara spoke, "We are not your enemy. I have come here to treat with you, and offer you power. We know little of these lands. We need a governor who knows the land and the people. Now, how many people might that be, my chief?" She afforded him the title of his people. It was a title of respect and authority, and yet there was little of either in her eyes.

"We are hundreds ten over," the chieftain answered.

"Thousands. My chief, as governor, you would command not just your own warriors, but an entire legion of imperial soldiers. You would have a vote on the regional council, to determine affairs across the entire Empire. How could a simple chieftain achieve such as that?"

"My sword is strong."

"I'm sure it is," she said, and for the first moment she seemed sincere as a smile graced her lips. "Yet I don't see it presently."

"It was left with Kirtuk."

"My guard tells you to disarm, and you obey? A simple guard has disarmed the might of your entire people."

Karvol spoke, "My chief, she insults you."

"I do not, truly," Sakara answered, "I merely point out the benefit I offer. Your sword is nothing, my chief. Power sits upon that throne." She gestured to the dais once more.

"You speak of power, but your camp is poorly organized. Your people are going to starve and freeze," Karvol replied.

"Help us to live, and we will lift you up," Sakara said, "Or do not. If you refuse, you are free to return to your villages. An experienced man will be brought from the Capitol to teach you the ways of the Empire. But you will be afforded no special recognition. You will be as commoners."

"We will wipe you from that map," Karvol said. His eyes narrowed.

"That would be unwise to attempt."

The chieftain strolled away from the map table and gazed up at the dais.

"I do not require an answer today," Sakara said. This encampment will remain for a fortnight before my messengers return to the Capitol."

"Very well," said the chieftain, "You are welcome."

Karvol grew tense, but did not speak.

"I offer you gifts to return to your people," Sakara said, "Outside you will find a wagon stocked with provisions, and a team of horse to pull it."

"We can feed ourselves. You keep the food. You're the ones who-" Karvol started.

"I said, silence!" the chieftain roared.

Karvol was quiet.

Sakara was pleased. "That is the authority of a governor," she said. "I offer you also the leash of Ata, this slave."

Karvol had nearly forgotten the nude girl. The chieftain had not. She came and kneeled before him, knees spread wide, head lowered.

"I do not understand," the chieftain said, "What is a slave?"

Sakara grinned, genuinely amused. "A slave is an obedient animal, in the body of a person," she said, "The slave will do whatever her master commands."

The chieftain looked down at the girl, Ata. "But why would she come with me?" he asked.

"Because she now belongs to you," Sakara answered, "She is your property. Beat her, fuck her, do as you wish with her. She will obey."

"This is wrong. My chief, you cannot-" Karvol began again.

The chieftain simply looked at the warrior, and he was silent once more. The chieftain considered the girl at his feet.

"She is a woman," he said, "She can be another of my wives."

"No," Sakara said, "She is a slave. We have many male slaves as well. It is a station irrespective of gender."

The chieftain thought this over. The people in this camp were clearly not to be trusted. That much was sure. But Karvol was himself just as much the fool as they, for he would lay bare all his thoughts and intentions. If this Empire was as powerful as hinted, the tribe would do well to ally with them. But if this were a ruse... At this point, he could not be sure of anything. But he would not leave a naked and helpless girl at their mercy.

"She can ride with me," he said.

"Magnificent," Sakara said, "Then it is done."

With a clap of her hands, the guard from outside the tent entered. He bound the girl's wrists with a leather thong, and none too gently, grabbed her upper arm to drag her from the tent. The chieftain, Karvol, and Sakara followed.

"Ata," the chieftain said, trying the girl's name.

"Yes, Master," she replied.

Kirtuk was waiting with the company's weapons, as ordered.

"New friends!" he said, laughing as he saw the slave girl.

"I was not expecting to bring anyone back with me. This is all I have to offer," he said, removing his sheepskin and draping it around Ata.

"Master is kind," she said.

"Too kind," Sakara spoke, "But that is for another time. I will hear from you in a fortnight...Governor."

"You will hear from me," he said, strapping his sword once more at his side.