Imperius Ch. 04

Behind the caravan, grooms washed the slaves briskly, brushing their hair until it shone and dressing them scantily in a color that marked their role and rank among the Illythian regiment.

There was a processing tent behind that, and on a whim, Magnus entered it.

Inside there were a dozen officials inspecting as many new slaves in various states of undress. Pontius, a fawning consular for whom Magnus felt a particular disdain, appeared to be in charge.

"This particular waist-cloth-," Pontius was explaining to one of his assistants, as he demonstrated on a trembling female captive in blue, "-is slitted here to allow for accessibility."

The young woman cringed away from him, and Pontius caught her chin in a cruel grip, "If you don't like my fingers, girl," he said pulling her close to him by the waist and pressing his groin against hers, "I'll be happy to use something else."

The girl's lips trembled as tears spilled from her large eyes.

She was a cherub of a girl, and an exception to the Illythian predisposition toward pale skin and red or golden curls. Her shining nut-brown hair reached her waist and framed a rounded face with wide-set doe eyes. She gave an immediate impression of being at once dainty and plump. While her wrists and ankles were as slender and delicate, there was a distinct youthfulness to the gentle rondeur of her petite figure.

"As for the brassiere," Pontius continued, and while his voice remained businesslike, Magnus could hear the relish underneath, "-it can be unclasped in the front—My liege!"

Pontius had seen him, and as he hurried to Magnus' side, his thin lips spreading in an unctuous smile. "This is an unlooked-for honor, my lord. May I offer you any assistance?"

"I'm curious how many captives we'll be allowing the soldiers access to at this...party," Magnus replied.

"Ah well—none of those in Consular Vero's keeping, naturally. He is solely responsible for procuring a stable for the exclusive use of the Imperial household." Magnus watched Pontius attempt to suppress the envious curl of his thin lips, and fail.

"I, however, have been honored with the task of overseeing the management of the largest bulk of useful slaves. Those intended for the arena and the pleasure houses."

"My colleague Jadir, has been granted the task of herding the less desirable slaves," Pontius continued in a tone that suggested this served as some consolation for his being denied the privilege of training the most breathtaking captives. "The ugly and infirm," he added helpfully.

"I see," said Magnus, keeping his opinion—that it was rather rich of Pontius to be quite so disdainful of the less attractive when he himself had lips the shape of dying worms and skin the color of curdled milk—to himself.

"Needless to say, the supply for tonight's festivities are coming entirely from my own stock, and I can assure that we are being selective. We are choosing those that have proven reasonably manageable, and we are dividing them between those intended for the officers and those intended for the lower ranks. Everyone shall have an opportunity to enjoy themselves—but we wouldn't want any unfortunate mishaps. My most beauteous pets shall be reserved for those of deserving stature." Pontius paused to afford Magnus an obsequious nod. "Of course none of them are as captivating as the vision you graced us with earlier today," Pontius added, and Magnus concealed his amusement as the Consular grasped for a way to launch an inquiry that wasn't utterly presumptuous.

"Will you be...partaking of the festivities, my liege?" Pontius asked. "I know you do not entirely approve, but—,"

"I'll be attending the party, if briefly," Magnus replied shortly. He moved toward the processing table and lifted one of the electronic tablets from its surface.

"Are all of the processed captives given a semi-permanent contraceptive during their examination?"

"All of the woman, yes," Pontius said, nodding. "Only...some of the men. We will provide an electronic record for when a new insertion is required, just as we do for all the slaves currently in the capital, but it lasts twelve years and it's only rarely necessary."

"Can it be safely removed at any time?"

Pontius seemed only slightly taken aback. "Yes, my liege—but doing so is rarely sanctioned before a slave is granted citizenship."

"I see," Magnus said again, still studying the tablet. "I would like to have all the records for the medical corps we've captured so far delivered to me," he added, in the unmistakable tone of someone accustomed to obedience.

"Of course, my liege."

Magnus' walk back toward his war tent was one of a great deal more peace of mind than his walk away from it.

He nodded to Daegon, standing guard with a grim and slightly feral expression, before he lifted the curtain and stepped through.

"There," Magnus heard Saphir say as he entered. "Now look in the mirror and tell me you don't look breathtaking."

Magnus' breathing felt perfectly normal, but his cock was another matter. His loins felt alive with fresh, frustrating hunger at the sight of her.

The Lilah in front of him was temptation in human form, barely reconcilable with her usual demure gentility. She sat in the center of the tent, her back to him, her slender shoulders and lithe midriff bare and creamy in the lamplight. What little fabric covered her intimate places was a lurid shade of scarlet. A length of red gossamer descended from the supple, satinesque lingerie and covered her legs and arms without concealing them. The lavish accents of gold against her skin were unchanged, yet now they emphasized more than ever the golden lustre of her hair.

He wanted to feel the silken caress of that hair against his cock, to do slow, unspeakable things to her tempting body. He wanted to forget this witless festivity his idiot colleagues insisted on and end the war this very evening so that he could take her away from this place, where there was even the faintest chance she might escape him.

For now, however, he was bound by duty—absurd as the duty may be.

Magnus crossed his arms as he stood in the entrance, watching them.

Lilah reacted to him first, catching his reflection in the hand mirror she obediently—if a bit listlessly—observed herself in. He saw her eyes contract in the glassy surface before she lowered the mirror onto her lap.

"Come," he said. "The party begins."

~ * ~

The celebration commenced formally at dusk, but that was not to say that there was a lack of spectacle before then.

Every visible captive seemed to be providing entertainment of one sort or another. Slaves were displayed everywhere, garbed and bound in a thoroughly provocative fashion. One Illythian woman they passed by was tied to a post while a small cluster of soldiers teased and fondled her. Lilah saw one of the soldiers pour wine down her throat before kissing her roughly.

An improvised fence had been constructed in which two Illythian soldiers were grappling with one another in a makeshift gladiatorial arena.

They were given neither arms or armor, which didn't surprise Lilah very much. Not only were they still in the center of Illythian territory, dealing with captives whose will remained mostly unbroken, but there seemed to be a great deal of wine being poured.

The heat was oppressive. These were mostly southern soldiers, accustomed to the desert-scape of Drace and D'Azure, and the sultry heat of Navarre. The Illythian night was much too chill for their taste, and they compensated with a myriad of hot lamps, washing the camp with golden warmth.

Magnus looked at these with a trace of disgust for the careless excess they represented—if they enemy hadn't know their position before, they did now—but Lilah had to own that she would be more uncomfortable without them, exposed to the chill of the night air with nothing but the absurd lingerie she was dressed in.

A small, stage-like structure overlooked the grappling soldiers and it was toward this that Magnus strode, Saphir and Daegon trailing behind, with Lilah in between.

Mingling on top of the structure was much of the same group Lilah recognized from the Legate's tent. Praetors, Consulars, and the Legate himself sipped wine amongst the officers deemed important enough to stand atop the dais.

Magnus nodded agreeably to most of these as he passed, but moved directly toward a brawny man wearing full armor who seemed to be standing guard rather than sharing in the festivities. He looked familiar to Lilah.

"Captain Gracchus," said Magnus, as the two men gripped one another's wrists briefly, "Thank you for assigning your men to the perimeter."

"My liege," Gracchus replied in a voice as deep and hoarse and churning gravel, and Lilah remembered him. He had been present during her processing as a slave. His very presence had been enough to make the guards straighten their backs and sweat.

Now she watched him incline his head to Magnus respectfully, "My men know their duty, and they don't distract easily," he said. His deep set eyes evaluated Lilah briefly before they cut back to Magnus. "We will be vigilant."

"I am certain of it," said Magnus, "What of events in the north?"

"We have our sights on Islamuir for the next outpost," said Gracchus. Lilah behind Magnus' shoulder, felt the blood drain from her face. "It's difficult to get any sky-ships close, but there's a water channel that our smaller ships can—,"

"Magnus," interrupted Legatus Hesiod, having approached. His tone was fondly scolding, and his eyes looked amused. "I hope you don't plan to talk tactics the entire evening."

Magnus bowed to the older man respectfully, "Not at all, my liege. May I have some more wine brought to you?"

"Nonsense, come join me at the balcony—and bring your splendid companion. We're watching the most interesting little dramas unfold. I've never witnessed anything like it. We've have the arena in the capitol, of course, and they do know how to put on a show—but this!" He led Magnus, who guided Lilah by the arm as he followed, toward the edge of the dais. The crowd of officers parted for them. "This is truly fascinating," said the Legate, gesturing to the men below. "Those two served in the same unit, and they didn't want to fight each other at first, promises of extra rations or no. But then the guards took to whipping them for every hesitation, and now they're trying very hard to give us a show without really hurting one another."

Lilah reminded herself to breathe, and searched the crowd of chained captives waiting their turn inside the tent for anyone she knew, her eyes zeroing in quickly on the tallest and palest man in the group.

Diarmund, she thought, staring at him. There was an ursine quality to him, a thickset muscularity than made him appear athletic, yet not hard. His soft grey eyes were also scanning the captives around him, and when at last they rose to meet hers he startled at the sight, his lips parting ever so slightly.

Lilah looked away, certain Magnus had seen and uncertain whether she should want him to or not. He might be able to save anyone he pleased from the arena, but she hadn't the faintest idea whether they'd be better off for it. When she dared a glance back at Diarmund, he was staring into the small arena with studied focus.

The bout ended when one of the reluctant fighters lost their strength, and lay unconscious, while the other stared down at them with haunted eyes.

Two new captives were led through the fence and this time, Lilah didn't hide her recognition. She gripped the railing in front of her in utter distress, barely caring that Magnus studied her reaction. It was the girl he'd seen Pontius toying with earlier, the petite beauty with the long, walnut hair.

Lilah knew her as Mairi, the youngest nurse in her unit, and the most timid person Lilah had ever met.

A gangly woman with hair like a fiery orange cloud and a pointed fox-like face entered the enclosure behind her. Like Diarmund, she had freckles, but whereas his sprinkled the bridge of his nose, hers dusted her entire face, chest, and shoulders. Her curls were not as defined as Lilah's, but they were courser, frazzled into wild fullness around her face.

There was a strange sort of beauty to her, and a strange sort of grace. Her arms and legs seemed over-long and awkward when she stood still, but there was a loping smoothing to her gait when she was in full stride.

Elspeth, Lilah thought, watching the woman take her position in the center of the fence. She knew her as well as she knew Mairi, if far less fondly.

Both women were marked as medical recruits by the blue fabric they wore, and Lilah wondered if Magnus were behind this. It was a strange transition, to go from watching a pair of brawny men scrapping to a pair of female nurses.

But the Imperial soldiers around the fence didn't seem to mind the change at all. Indeed, many of them leered and catcalled in anticipation as the bout was marked to begin. Mairi looked terrified, while Elspeth looked around at their captors with hard insolence. She spared the dais a particularly dark glance, and did a double take at Lilah, just as Diarmund had. She took in the scarlet silk, the golden filigree, and sneered with cold disgust.

Lilah took a shivery breath, feeling scalded. The match was declared commenced, and Elspeth loped toward Mairi, grim and unhesitant. The sight made Lilah's hot shame turn cold and settle in her stomach like lead. Elspeth was going to take out her rage on Mairi, and give the watching Imperials exactly what they wanted in the process. Lilah wanted to call out, to curse Elspeth for an impetuous fool.

Instead she swallowed the words, and gripped the railing tightly, seeming oblivious to the observation her anxiety engendered among several of those around her.

Mairi darted away from her opponent, skirting timidly out of reach. But she wasn't quick, and Elspeth herded her into a corner with little effort. The observing soldiers jeered with disappointment at the lack of real spectacle, which only seemed to panic Mairi all the more. Turning frantic, she tried to race around the larger woman, but Elspeth veered with her and caught her by the arm.

Turning, Elspeth hurled Mairi into the ground, and lowered over her from behind. She settled onto the smaller woman's midsection, snatched at one of Mairi's little hands, and pulled her arm across her back with ruthless force. Elsbeth other hand burrowed into Mairi's hair, and tugged her head back brutally until Mairi was forced into a painful arched position.

Across the distance between them, Elspeth's eyes found Lilah's, and her gaze was deep with malice and meaning.

Mairi, as much out of terror as pain, let out a keening scream.

Without hesitation or warning, Lilah jumped the railing and dropped into the enclosure. She landed gracefully enough, though the damp earth gave beneath her, and raced toward Elspeth and Mairi.

Behind her, there were cries of surprise, many of which shifted swiftly into amusement. Magnus, not the least bit amused, made to jump in after her himself and drag her back out, but the Legate placed a firm hand on his arm before he could do so.

"Wait," Hesiod said, suddenly emanating the authority that lurked beneath the surface of his usual conciliatory tone.

When Lilah reached the two other women, Elsbeth was still holding Mairi's head to the ground, but the unpreparedness was a feint. As soon as Lilah came into striking distance, she turned and pushed her legs out, catching Lilah in her stomach and hurling her over Elsbeth's head. Lilah's own speed worked against her, and she landed hard enough to shock her lungs into inefficacy.

Lilah gasped for air as she felt Elspeth's weight drop on top of her, but when the larger woman's hands came into contact with her neck, Lilah felt a wave of adrenaline take hold of her senses. She threw a punch toward Elspeth's cheek, and it landed with a dull crack of sound. She threw a second, harder blow, and it was enough send Elspeth's head reeling back and loose her hold enough for Lilah to wriggle out from under the larger woman.

By the time she'd found her footing, so had Elspeth, who rubbed at her mouth in disbelief. "Where did you learn to punch like that?" she said, watching Lilah incredulously.

"It's been a long war," Lilah replied, her voice coming out shakier than she intended.

The soldiers around them were laughing and calling for more, enthused by the change of pace.

Lilah noticed with some relief that Mairi was scrambling to her feet and hurrying out of proximity, but Elsbeth took advantage of Lilah's moment of distraction and lunged at her. Lilah barely danced aside in time. She was not at all confident that grappling with Elsbeth up close would go well for her, with neither strength nor reach on Lilah's side.

"You've come out of it well enough, Imperial whore," snarled Elspeth. "Does all the gold and silk make it worth your while?"

Lilah's insides felt frozen, but she met Elspeth's sneering contempt without flinching, "You don't have the slightest idea what you're talking about."

"No?" Elspeth replied, her lip curling. "Are you going to pretend you don't have a choice?" She began to circle Lilah, who matched her movements warily, ignoring catcalls on all sides. "Poor thing," Elspeth said, and pouted with exaggerated, mocking sympathy. "Well-fed and clothed like a little imperial pet. What hardship you've endured!"

Elspeth lunged again, throwing a punch that Lilah narrowly dodged.

And then countered.

She caught Elspeth on the temple with a single sharp blow, then danced out of reach, her guard in place. Elspeth was no more a soldier than she was, but where Lilah had floundered in defense training during early recruitment, Elspeth had excelled. Lilah was as wary as she'd been when Elspeth had lunged the first time—more, as now she no longer had any tricks up her sleeve. Her only hope was to keep dodging.

Elspeth's eyes narrowed at her, calculating, her posture hunched and feral, "You shouldn't have interfered, you know. Hell, Mairi'd be better off if these fights were to the death. It would be a blessing in comparison to being an Imperial toy."

Lilah's eyes flared like blue fire, cold outrage beneath their brilliant surface, "Death is never a blessing."

Elspeth laughter was hard with spite. "You know, that's your problem. That's always been your problem. You're so desperate to hide from the bad things that you'll scrape and bend to the first figure of authority who gives you an order."

She gestured toward the dais, "Well, is it worth it? You can tell me. Is it a little fun? Do they feed you by the hand like a little kitten? Or—are you more like a puppy? You know a little b—Oof!"

Lilah dove low into Elspeth leg, sending the larger woman forward into the damp earth. But Elspeth recovered quickly, catching Lilah's own leg before she could dart out of reach or capitalize on her upper hand. The two women rolled, struggling viciously, and Elspeth came up on top.

Before Elspeth's hands could close around Lilah's throat, Lilah beat her to it, pressing her palms flush to Elspeth's thyroid gland to hold her off. She expected Elspeth to try moving Lilah's hands first, but it seemed that Elspeth was too full of fury. She simply tried to throttle Lilah back.

Lilah held her grip, but Elspeth had the longer arms and her fingers closed around Lilah's neck firmly, choking the strength out of her. The struggle was doomed on both sides perhaps, as both of them fought a losing battle for breath, but Elspeth was seemed to be getting by far the greater sense of satisfaction out of it.

Then Elspeth's weight was gone, lifted off her. Lilah could hear dull shouting all around her, but she couldn't make out any of the words. A dark shape filled her blurred vision, and hands touched her face, but she gasped for breath, unheeding.