Princil's Magic Ch. 04 Pt. 01 Trial

Aribor made his way through picturesque streets, which were becoming less than picturesque by the hour. Black smoke and grey wafted from homes and warehouses below. The sounds of screaming carried on the breeze as some of the occupants were denied exit by armed barbarians. These were Grumandrians in the places he passed. They were dark clad, in blacks and browns, long unruly hair of brown, red, yellow or black.

Aribor's passing thoughts were of what magic or sorcery could be created by such inhumane incidents, and yet those lingering deaths were wasted to sorcery where no sorcerer attended. He was immune to these incidents. He had seen too much to care and inflicted plenty of it himself.

There were more pleasant scenes too. Some of the female citizens of Cromilil were surrounded by a crowd of Grumandrians and Pelancirians, and had been made to undress. They were still youthful, but mature enough to be full figured and beautiful. They had been told to work for their lives, otherwise those lives would be forfeit, and had been put to work servicing the crowd of barbarian soldiers. When Aribor came within view he judged them to be doing a very effective job of work. Three of them sucked upon the aroused cocks of soldiers, to the crowd's delight, while another two took soldiers' members from behind, while they crouched naked on all fours. These were beauties, evidently selected as such. He doubted their lives would be wasted after this. Too many soldiers would desire to use them, and there would be those who would speak up on their behalf. The women of Shalirion were reputed to be great lovers, for their keen motivation towards the sexual pleasures and their open attitudes towards most comers.

Aribor entered the benches of the Council House Hall. Guthelm presided, grinning from ear to ear as he listened to the arguments of underlings who competed for his attention with the cruel jibes and threats they tossed at the 'accused'. These trials were all part of the drama of the conquest to the King. He revelled in these occasions, becoming now frequent as he ravaged parts of Shalirion. Aribor wondered why the King enjoyed these humiliations of his victims so much. The accused were not going to survive their ordeals, so why bother to stage these mock trials. There was no standard of evidence or code of conduct. The accusers and the judges could play whatever games they wanted. Aribor did not find these games particularly interesting. The accused were rarely 'criminals' in any senses of the word and the charges were more to do with rumour or exaggeration than anything real the accused might have done. Aribor did not like the soft people of Shalirion much; which of the peoples of the northern and eastern lands did? They were all jealous of Shalirion's wealth, and in a personal comparison, of the contentment and easy life of its people.

Chanceleord, Remzain's father was in the dock now. "You sir, are rich. Very rich!" accused one of Guthelm's servants, dressed all in black, a serpentine quality, in his shiny greased long black hair and his pale complexion. "How did you come by your ill gotten wealth?"

"By trade," said the merchant, who had, until today, been indisputably rich.

"Trade?" There was a snicker around the room. It was well known that Guthelm did not think much of trade. He preferred to amass his own wealth by conquest, pillage or taxation. His courtiers and closest followers cared little for trade and had little patience for it. Indeed they looked down their noses, or indeed down their swords, at people who worked patiently, making contracts and arrangements to provide food or goods for their people, expanding their own wealth at the same time.

It came to Aribor that if there had been any way able to save Remzain's father from certain death he might succeed in binding the beautiful young woman even more closely to himself - in loyalty, instead of by fear alone. The pleasure of a grateful young beauty would be far better enjoyed if she was willing, the more willing the better! He knew she would repay him in kind many times over if there was something he could do for the father. Ordinarily he would not have attempted to enter such a difficult arrangement with one of his women, but this one had a quality which far exceeded most. He actually found that he wanted to earn her loyalty. If there was something which could be done to save her father and earn her undying obedience or loyalty, he would gladly have done it. He was elated by the universal feeling she engendered in him. The urge to help someone was quite uncharacteristic of him. But he could see no way. What could he possibly say or do in Guthelm's dangerous court, which would tip the balance of cruelty and jest to save this man's life.

Aribor considered speaking out in Chanceleord's favour, but what benefit could such an outburst possibly have? What would he say? 'I have seen his daughter and she is beautiful, so please spare his life for her sake!' Or, 'I could give his beautiful daughter to you King Guthelm, or to the servant of your choice if you spare him.' How would he be able to prove her beauty when she was so distant, to make the King want her, or give her to someone? He would be laughed at by all who were close to the King. They would know he had an ulterior motive and would find his pleas quite ridiculous. Besides the only appeals he could think of were to trade Remzain for the life of her father, but such a course was of no benefit to him because he would lose the young woman.

Was there any appeal to reason or self interest? Perhaps if Chanceleord were in some way able to buy his way out of trouble, by transferring his wealth to the conquerors. But Guthelm and his closest commanders did not care for the wealth or money of Shalirion or other currency exchanges. Grumandrian wealth was based on tribute, not on fair monetary exchange. Besides whatever Chanceleord had owned was surely being destroyed or made worthless in the sack of the city and nearby provinces of it. What good was his money in the hands of 'barbarians', as the people of Shalirion called them?

And so Aribor stayed silent. There was nothing he could do. And there was no magic strong enough which he could use to aid the man up there on the platform.

Valdark was Guthelm's Chief Sorceror, a very dark figure. He was present at Chanceleord's 'trial', observing silently from the background behind the King. He was tall and somehow birdlike, a large crooked nose, a receded hairline and long blackest hair. There was no trace of grey in his hair although that might have been expected by the weight of knowledge and power which rested upon his visage. His face, pale and lined, with keen intelligence and deep cruelty in his eyes, was not easily fathomed. He approached Aribor as Chanceleord was led away in chains, while another unfortunate Councillor was brought to 'trial'.

"There is something unusual here," he said blandly. "You're hiding something Aribor."

Aribor turned his head slowly. He did not want to reveal any fear, but fear was always present when he dealt with this master of sorcerors, as it was with the King. And yet he knew that, like himself, Valdark was a servant of the King, who sought mainly to do his duty and keep the unpredictable King happy and well served. There should be no need to fear Valdark because they served the same goals. Yet he felt fear at the realisation that the great sorcerer should feel that he was hiding something. The fact that his thoughts were not usual showed the great sorceror's uncanny prescience. He had wished to avoid any questions and felt very awkward that without provocation his master should become interested in him. He knew Valdark could read emotion and some thoughts if he used the right magic.

"Usually I would detect no forgiveness in your attitude to our enemies. This last prisoner means something to you, but I am not sure what. For certain you do not wish to see him dead, or tortured. You wish him to be preserved, but for no reason I can yet see. I am not aware that you could know the man?"

"I see something you desire," said Valdark, speaking slowly, distantly. "Great beauty! Beauty which could turn your devotion to your masters. I know you are a man who appreciates beauty, who is motivated by it. You have a strong hunger for beauty. But I do not see the connection to this merchant. I will be watching you Aribor. I know you have served the master's cause well, but I like to understand the motivations of my sorcerors, and in your case I cannot see it. You can tell me if you like."

But Aribor was not about to reveal his connection through Remzain to her father. Such knowledge could be used by Valdark to control himself.

"Of course I am motivated by beauty. I appreciate beauty, of females in particular. Chanceleord, that merchant, could be of more use to us. I do not wish to see him wasted. That is all. I do not wish to see his talents wasted. He is of no particular concern to me," Aribor said, wishing he had not come back here now to attract the powerful sorceror's attention. Valdark was adept at mind reading, but if he had no further cause for suspicion perhaps he would not bother to look further into Aribor's mind. Mind reading was a costly pastime, in time or in effort.

"Very well," said Valdark. "I will have to take your word then."

Down below in the hall Guthelm's statesman Wermzel, the serpentine white faced black-garbed figure, pointed an accusing finger towards the forlorn figure of Remzain's father, who had been brought back onto the stage, along with the other Councillor. "He should die!," he suggested. He is of no use to us and should be punished for his previous enmity, and for his wealth. What do you say sire?"

"I would like to see him die, but the question is what form should his death take? I will trust you all, my servants, to decide," declared the King disinterestedly. Perhaps the bloodlust of the King was not so great as his reputation, or perhaps he had seen sufficient bloodletting already for one day.

As Aribor watched the humiliation of Chanceleord he saw the beautiful face of his new servant Remzain and felt her strong desire for him to help her father. There were sorcerous means by which he might alleviate her father's suffering. These might involve psychically sedating or relaxing his mind, relieving pain or thrusting visons into his mind to relieve stress or pain. He was drawn to help the merchant in this way, but there were other sorcerors in this council hall who would know well what he did. Such actions would be the acts of a desperate wizard, for he would be sure to be found out and accused of disloyalty to Guthelm and his people. Valdark was his superior and immediate leader, and he was present in this room and had already placed Aribor under some suspicion for his thoughts. How could he safely do anything in this situation. And yet if he did nothing how would Remzain's attitude towards him change. Would she reject him or become resistant? Would she deny him her accommodation? As he watched helplessly, as Chanceleord's strength gradually sapped away, these tensions crowded him within his skull.

Finally, when Remzain's father was well and truly dead, Aribor decided he would return to Remzain to tell her the news. He felt the strong desire to return to the overpowering presence of her beauty. He wanted to submerge the unpleasantness of Chanceleord's demise into the positive living beauty of his daughter. He imagined again the smooth slender brown tanned skin of her youthful body and the strong gaze of her lovely eyes watching his mounting ecstasy. He felt the pressing of his trousers gripping upon his penis and he realised it was strongly aroused. The awareness brought home to him that, although he had the young lady in his contract her control over him was just as great. He realised he was under her spell, not a magical spell, but one which controlled and influenced him nonetheless. He could not escape her lovely image for long, and he ached to return to her and use her again, as soon as possible.

He was experiencing her changing and influencing his feelings. While he might have enjoyed to see the downfall of Shalirion's merchants and rejoiced at this fresh victory of his people, and at the riches they would soon all enjoy, he could not view it in the same way now. He appreciated Remzain's love for her father. He appreciated that the man who had just expired had been the man who had created the most beautiful creature he had so recently enjoyed. Where one so lovely had been born, perhaps there could be others to breed. He saw the waste of Chanceleord's death, and he imagined the effect the news of his demise might have upon his daughter. He felt hate towards his uncouth and cruel master Guthelm, not entirely for the first time, but the issue was clearer to him now. He resented the ignorant baying for blood which came from his comrades in the room. Why were his people so cruel? Why did they hate beauty so much? What real benefit was there to be had from putting so many of these people to death? The pursuit of power and wealth was a sufficient goal. Why did they need to create so much blood and death to achieve such basic goals. They could put the vanquished to work for them in many useful ways. They could have made them slaves! Why was vengeance and punishment thought to be so necessary.