• Closed • All Duck or No Dinner [Julian]

[Tasar]

52nd Trial of Vhalar,
Arc 716

Tasar was not prepared for this, not at all. Oh, she could spout all the theory and tell the senior slave - who was currently trying to find a smart black dress which would fit her - that she had been trained in such things while living in Athart... but that had been more than seven arcs ago, and the young half-breed had had no use for that training since she had left her birthplace. "Well if you say you know it all, then you will be fine, you silly girl," the senior slave replied, frustrated as she threw a dress down on the chair and forced Tasar to spin. The older woman made short work of the ribbon which held together her clothing. Quickly stripped down to nothing, Tasar stood with ease, barely aware of the exposure; the only thought which passed through her mind was that she was glad she was in a servant's room in the house, rather than being changed in the slave's quarters in the cold outside. "Yes, Madam, but-"

"No buts, Tasar," the woman cut her off sharply as she guided the redhead to step into the smarter black dress and fastened it quickly, "Elia is unwell and someone must fill in. You are the only girl non-essential to the work outside. So you will serve at this dinner." Tasar opened her mouth in an attempt to argue one more time, but she was cut off before she could even start. "No. Stop, Tasar. You would not speak in this manner to the Master, and you may not to me. If you want... you can be the one to explain to the Master why he was not able to impress his guests, because you didn't feel like it."

That shut the slave up instantly, horrified that anyone would insinuate that she was unwilling to serve. Finally, she nodded, and the senior slave smiled in approval, patting the girl on the arm. They left the small room and joined the small group of female slaves who were the normal servers. "Tasar, you will be serving the wine. All you are required to do is stand silently in the corner of the room and watch for signals that one of the diners would like more wine. You have a good reputation for being so insignificant that you appear to be invisible, so I have no doubts that you will avoid bringing shame upon the family."

One of the other girls smiled supportively at Tasar as she picked up a plate of vegetables, and Tasar returned a small, slightly nervous one as she picked up the decanter of claret wine. Once the food servers had formed a line, Tasar was ushered to the back and followed them up and into the large dining room. It was the first time that Tasar had ever been into the room, anyone watching her as she entered would not have known that - there was no awe on her face, despite the extravagance of the room. She was calm, and expressionless, as was expected of a slave. If she did her job right tonight, they would not even realise that she was in the room; they would think their wine glasses were being re-filled with magic.

[Julian Aranaz]

It had been a day already for the Heir, one that he was almost praying to be over but alas, it was only late afternoon and Julian still had much to attend to before he could settle down in his quarters with some good booze and other pleasantries. Morning saw him slid out of bed where a couple warm bodies lay, dress and eat, before layering up to venture out into the cold for business negotiations.

The businesses within Viden catered alcohol to their patrons and being that the Aranaz family was the main supplier for the city, Julian spent much of his days going out to different locations to talk supply and demand, numbers, and shipment transportation. Alcohol was illegal within Viden, but the Aranaz family kept their hands and noses so clean, most assumed that the brand on their bottles was related to some kind of perfume. Little did they know, such liquid consumed would give them the best day of their lives, or so they would think.

The Aranaz family had a number of established contracts with these businesses, contracts that dictated life or death if the situation called for it. Julian was witness to a number of these “situations” where death had been the only option. Such memories kept him up at night but he would never admit to it. Even so, Julian had been out that morning handling a number of situations mostly involving complaints from the businesses about higher prices on the alcohol his family made.

“These prices are ridiculous!” One man had shouted, “What worth is it of ours to sell this product?”

“Because people want to get drunk. They'll buy it, regardless of the price.” Julian retorted smoothly, “Your concern is misplaced.”

Of course, the conversation didn't go over too well and Julian scowled at the thought of having to tell his father that over dinner. Upon entering the estate, he shrugged his coat off his shoulders and tossed it to the slave that came to greet him.

“Has dinner begun?” He asked.

“Yes, in the dining hall.”

“The dinner hall?” Julian's brow knitted together. “Are there guests?”

“Yes Master. Sir Janik Rovert from the Red Herald Tavern, Sir Nikolus Gamree from the Crystal Rose restaurant, and Lady Ayana Kece from the —“

“From the whore house. Yes, I know.” Julian bit out, promptly ignoring the man as he made his way down the hall with squared shoulders and a dark expression. By the fates, why was Ayana here? To bring the horrors of the Great Beyond upon Julian, so he assumed... Rounding the corner, he saw the oak trimmed double doors and threw one of them open with a bang.

The people inside of the room jumped noticeably. Well, all except his father who returned the same expression Julian wore. Two of the guests turned to size him up while the third continued to cut into her meal, eyes trained on the steak.

“Julian.” His father greeted, though the man paid no mind. Instead, a devious smile played on his lips as he straightened his vest and entered the dining hall.

“I apologize, how rude of me.” His rhetoric wove charm within his words, “I wasn't aware we would have such notable Videnese dining with us tonight or else I would have arrived promptly.” Rounding a chair, Julian sat opposite his father, at the other end of the table, and stared with hard eyes upon Ayana who still continued to look at her food.

In a whirl, slaves set his spot with dishware, utensils, and cups— one of which he snatched and held up in the air to be filled with wine. When he didn't feel the weight of the liquid being poured into his cup, his eyes rounded on a particular unfamiliar face who approached him quickly. He said nothing but narrowed his eyes upon her even as she did her task and retreated.

Turning, he took a sip of the wine, noting how silence lingered in the room, “Oh? Have I intruded?” He asked.

“Lose the smirk boy, or else I'll have the guards send you away.” His father retorted, “You come into my hall like that again and there will be more to greet you than the wine you drink.”

“Boy, father?” Julian's smirk never died.

“Must we play these games? Carry on, Tobren. Unfortunately, I have little time left and business must be settled.” Pressing cloth to her mouth, Ayana finally turned her head up. “You've raised your prices on the brandies and expect our participation to continue as usual, however, my girls cannot work faster than these fod-sacks are drinking your booze. These prices are going to run me out of business.”

“Tobren, we not happy with this new arrangement. The contract stated no change in prices. Ever.” Sir Gamree pipped, placing his glass on the table. “Do you really expect us to go along with your demands? This is ludicrous at best!”

“Well yes, I do.” Tobren responded. “The contract stated prices would remain fixed until demand sought higher prices. Your businesses have grown exponentially since you've introduce our brandies into the mix. You think it's not fair to ask for more when we've given much?”

Sir Gambree frowned, “No, not when you're claiming more than half of the business' funds for yourself. How are we suppose to feed our families when we're too busy feeding your greed?”

“Nik, quiet.” Ayana breathed, “Of course your family has helped our businesses thrive, Tobren, but we're merely suggesting gradual increase so that we can prepare our staff and our customers.”

Silence filtered through the room before Julian laughed outright and leaned back in his chair. “No.” Ayana finally turned to him with eyes that spoke of hatred, “Excuse me?”

“Lady Kece, I can tell you simply that my father will not 'gradually' raise his prices to better suit your needs. That's not how these negotiations work. See, you came to us for help and we discussed what we would offer and what we would not. You agreed to what we demanded, therefore, there will be no changing of prices. Unless you'd like to form a new contract.”

“The child spouts nonsense once again, Tobren. Do you not have a leash on this boy?” Sir Rovert finally spoke, though his words were poorly picked. Julian's smile fell and dark eyes stared at the dishware placed in front of him before his hands casually reached for the steak knife there. It was sharp and delicate and easily punctured flesh when he suddenly slammed it down through Janik's hand and the table. The older man cried out as blood proceeded to pour onto the table from the wound.

“Mm, no. Do I look like a slave to you?” Julian hissed.

“Julian!” Ayana gasped, standing. The heir held a hand up to stop her before pointing to the slave with the decanter and snapping his fingers, motioning her over. “Please, Janik, let me educate you on what a slave looks like.”

When the girl was within reach, he pulled her by her wrist, slid long digits into her hair, and pulled her head to the side to expose the brand that marked her a slave on the skin of her neck. “This, Sir, is a slave.” He said, releasing her hair. “They are better than children, more obedient than dogs... Why, I'm sure if I commanded her, she'd slit your throat...”

“You vile prick.” Janik breathed through pain.

With a frown, Julian leaned forward. “Remove the knife from his hand,” He muttered into the slave's ear. “Stab him in the same spot.”

“Tobren?! Julian stop!”

Tension hung in the air as Julian commanded again. “Do it now slave.”

[Tasar]

The flow of dinner conversation washed over Tasar as she stood in the corner of the room, eyes unfocused glazed over, though still watching the room at large for indication that her particular services were needed. Vaguely, she was aware that the topic of conversation was alcohol - the secret black market family business which had occupied Tasar’s normal day-to-day activities for the last four arcs. The guests, it seemed, had some form or issue to raise with the Aranaz family and, as with all things Videnese, the civilised approach of discussion over a good meal, was the way to deal with it.

The slave was not all that interested in the conversation, however; it was not her place to have an opinion, thus she did not let it bother her. The calm flow of conversation was abruptly halted, however, which the slamming of the doors, announcing the late arrival of the Aranaz family heir. The more experiences house slaves’ reactions made this seem like a relatively common occurrence; Tasar was the only one to react. A rebuking glare came from the senior slave, and the redhead shrank in on herself, hurrying forwards to fill Julian’s wine glass upon his silent request before retreating into the background once more.

As the conversation took a more heated turn, Tasar couldn’t help but pay attention; none of the diners were requesting more food or wine of the slaves - their attention now solely on the Aranaz heir and his aggressive, and arguably undiplomatic method of dealing with his guests. The conversation was moving quickly now, and voices were now raised. In an effort to find something to do, the girl busied herself with refilling the decanter of wine, in preparation for what she believed would be an influx of requests for alcohol.

Turning around, Tasar was surprised to find that she wasn’t to remain invisible in the room; to the contrary, she was about to become the centre of attention. Leaving the decanter where it was, the redhead instantly moved to approach her Master’s heir. The slave, obedient as she was, personified the very words Julian spoke - she was silent and without expression as she allowed her body to be manipulated in order to fulfil the man’s needs at that time. The last thing she would dream of doing was embarrassing the man by making his words appear false.

Tasar’s eyes, trained on a blemish on the wooden floor, widened and rose to fall upon the partially incapacitated dinner guest as she listened to Julian’s words. As the man released his hold upon her, the slave’s gaze flickered momentarily over to the head of the Aranaz family for some indication of a contradictory order. But her Master responded with nothing; he was gazing at his son with a mixture of disbelief and disgust and seemed incapable of action or words at the present time.

Schooling her features in the single step it took to be within comfortable reach of the knife, Tasar reached down for the steak knife. As her fingers slid around the handle, however, Sir Rovert’s undamaged hand gripped her own, hindering her attempt to rip it free. Tasar’s efforts were minimal and half-hearted in fighting against the man’s waning strength, and she was glad to have her back to Julian in this moment, lest he see her barely attempting to follow through on his orders.

“Stop!” The Master’s voice entered the fray of exclamations from the now-standing guests, all of which Tasar had ignored in favour of the man she was bound to obey. “Stop, girl!”

And she did. “My apologies, Master.” Tasar murmured, eyes downcast once again as she began to return to her place on the edge of the room. Her words were void of any tone which would indicate which of the two men she was addressing.

“I wonder if your son is... ready for the responsibilities of working with you in this very delicate business, Tobren,” one of the guests uttered quietly, “It is no great show of power to control a slave - even less so when that slave seems devoid of a soul. And here, the boy thinks that we are impressed with threats and impulsive actions. Such things rarely go well with such a delicate business as the one you operate.”

[Julian Aranaz]

“Delicacy is no great measure when the penalty is the same for all involved.” Julian retorted, watching with dark eyes as the slave retreated back before turning to the others. “But I suppose that's enough entertainment for you all.” Turning to the knife still dug within the hand and thus, the table, Julian grasped and jerked it out in one swift move.

Again, the man cried out, holding his hand while he grabbed at the cloth in his lap to keep pressure to it. Julian fiddled with the knife for a moment then casually tossed it onto the table. When he found his father's gaze again, he didn't misread the wrath in his eyes. The man would know pain later today, of that he was sure.

“Excuse me.” He smiled and bowed slightly. With ease, he strolled from where he stood over to the doors before stopping to whisper something in the senior slave's ear. Her expression suggested nothing as she answered him, “Yes, Master.” And then he left.

The dinner abruptly ended at that point and the guests were kindly shown the door once the dishes were collected. It was a whirl of tension so palpable in the air, someone could slice it. Just when things seemed to settle and Tobren disappeared, the senior slave approached Tasar and grasped her upper arm, tugging her along.

They moved between halls, venturing deeper into the estate as fewer and fewer people became apparent in the halls. Finally they wandered down a hall that was much colder than the rest of the house and dark. Very dark...

During their time together, the senior slave said nothing to Tasar, but once they reached a particular door and she opened it, she turned to the woman. “I'll be back again come morning to give you water. Until then, you will not be allowed out unless the Master commands it...” She appeared indifferent, but her eyes sparkled with something else— pity maybe?

Then she shoved the slave inside, closed, and locked the door. The room was small, windowless, and cold. There was no bed to rest on and nothing within the space to keep her mind away from what Tasar now found herself in: a prison.

[Tasar]

“Where…” Tasar’s voice was as jerky as her movements as she was dragged along behind the senior slave, sidestepping either those loitering in the hallways, or those heading in the other direction. “Where are we going?” The woman was silent, and did not once glance back at her, however the redhead had caught the looks on the faces of the other slave girls - looks of sympathy and compassion, looks which said ‘you’ll be okay, you can do this, you’ll be fine’.

Coming to a halt, Tasar listened, brows furrowing in confusion, as the older woman barely explained her fate, “But… what did I do?” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly as she spoke, “What did I do wrong?” She did not understand what went wrong at the dinner. No, she had not been invisible, as she had intended, as had even been requested of her by the senior slave. But her visibility had been a direct result of a summons from the Master’s son, whom she could not disobey.

Forced into the room, Tasar stumbled, and did not have time to turn around and look at the flickering candle-light one final time before the room was engulfed in darkness. The girl shivered, though more from her situation than from he actual cold. Yes, she no longer felt the warmth from one of the many stoves and fires in the house, but she knew from her space, government-sanctioned education that she would not freeze to death while in Viden.

Slowly, the girl stepped forward, arms outstretched. Four steps later and she reached the door, which she did not even attempt to open; a momentary inspecting told her there was no handle on her side of the door. Moving to the right, two steps later, she hit the corner, and six steps after that was another corner. The room was barely big enough for her to lie flat in, but that gave her some comfort - anything could be lurking in the shadows of an expansive room… especially when it was too dark to see and logic fled from the rational mind.

Tasar forced back the bile that threatened to crawl its way up her throat. Momentary fear gripped her and a wave of heat followed a flash of immense cold. Leaning her back against the corner, Tasar bent her legs and lowered herself to the floor, sliding against the wall.

She blinked dazedly, as if trying to clear her vision, but no light could be seen, save for the smallest sliver from the far wall, where the door did not quite reach the floor. Breathing deeply for a moment, Tasar stared at that sliver of light.

Sleep must have claimed her eventually, for the slave was woken the next morning - or what she assumed was the next morning - by the opening of the door to her cell. Her chest became heavy with anticipation as she realised just how thirsty she was, seeing the full cup of water in the other’s hands. Greedily, she took it and gulped it all down in one. The other frowned, “I’ll be back tomorrow morning with another…” she murmured and Tasar, ashen-faced, looked down at the empty cup, realising her mistake at once.

She focused as well as she could on logic and lucid, rational thought. The day passed slowly, but if her Master had decided that she would best serve them by being in this cell, then she would do her best to serve him well from inside her. If she could at least work out what she had done wrong, then she could appreciate her current situation. She deserved this. That much she knew.

But she couldn’t work out why.

_________________________

Her mouth was terribly dry. She ran her tongue over her chapped lips, and it felt like sandpaper ghosting over charcoal… when she swallowed, it burned. She was dehydrated. Four trials had passed since the dinner party. Or… at least… four times had Tasar been given water, as she assumed it was once a trial, though it felt much longer. The cups were larger than the first, and she managed to make them last, though she felt constantly thirsty. She had been give bread too. It was stale and hard, but it was food, and that did not last.

The darkness, the cold, the stillness…

Tasar was suffocating in it.

Every time she was left alone after food and water was given to her, her world would fall into a deep and unnerving silence. The cacophony of sounds that her own body made was all that she could hear: her ragged breathing, her steady pulse, the thumping of her heart which told her with every beat that she was yet living.

The young slave girl rested her head back against the wall, peering at the crack under the door, as she had done so often over the last four trials. Absently, her fingers traced lightly over the rugged stone floor. She wondered if, somehow, Julian Aranaz knew that she could not work out why she was in here. There was a lesson to learn, she was sure of it; why else would they be so willing to suffer having one less slave working for them? It pained her to know that she had let the family down so spectacularly that she had to be kept in isolation for the past four days.

The endless guilt from this repeating thought had tears creeping from the girl’s eyes, slowly, only a few at a time. She sniffed, only to wince at both the stench of the room, and her body’s stiffness, that she was desperately trying to ignore. They were both discomforts that she deserved. She deserved this and more, so much more.

[Julian Aranaz]

It wasn’t till some time later when the sound of footsteps quietly echoed off the walls of the room roused the young slave from her heep in the corner. The door was unlocked noisily and pushed open to allow bright light in. To Tasar, it would appear bright, but this section of the estate was hardly used and the only light cycled in was that from the windows.

By the entrance of the door was a slave— not the one who’d locked her within the room, but another slaved that seemed more delicate and refined. She was thin, dainty, with blonde hair flowing down to the middle of her back,“Please follow me.” She beckoned gently and turned on the balls of her feet to venture back the way she came. The slave girl didn’t wait for Tasar, but it wouldn’t take her much effort to reach the other as her strides were slow, precise, and fluid.

“You’ve been locked in that room for a week.” Her soft voice answered, and a little quieter, she added. “Master likes to do that to all of his personal slaves…”

They took another turn and it became quite obvious that the halls were barren of any social engagement or activity whatsoever. When Tasar would finally notice such observations, the slave girl would pipe up almost melodically, “The Master of the House has taken a trip away from Viden. He will return within a few trials. Mistress has also departed the city, though I know not where she goes.” Finally, she stopped at a door and opened it, “There is only one Master that remains within the house and he requests your company. I’ve drawn a bath for you and the clothes you will wear are on the bench by the mirror. When you are washed and dressed, you will knock on the door. Master requests all his slaves appear decently before him, so I will fix up your hair when you are finished.”

The slave stepped from between the archway to allow Tasar entrance into the room. As the other woman would enter, however, the slave would reach for her hand in a quick grab, stealing her attention. “Please,” Her eyes shown with hidden knowledge, all of which reflect overwhelming emotions that broke the facade of blankness that a slave would normally wear, “Don’t do anything foolish.” After a pause, she release Tasar’s arm and watched at she entered the bath chambers and closed the door…



Julian stood in front of a blazing fire, an arm propped upon the mantle while a glass of brandy was gripped loosely between his fingers. All around him were enormous shelves of books, candles and benches. This was, of course, the Aranaz Estate’s Personal Library but for some reason, no matter how much the man searched, he could not find a single page detailing the strange acts of wonderment he’d seen during his travels through the region. The only thing to grace his ears were rumors and story of grandeur involving unknown people wielding fire and commanding the dead.

Was this some blessing from the divine? Was this a kind of power offer to submit to such ethereal authority? To become a slave and connected to beings far superior to him?

In a rush of anger, the man launched the glass into the fire and watched as it dampened then rolled with newfound strength as it clung to and burnered stronger with the alcohol. Julian turned and brushed a hand through his hair.

Upon his lips was a jagged, scabbing cut— signifying the encounter he had with his father the day after the dinner party. The beating didn’t hurt, nothing did. Within the man’s mind, he took from the pain strength and fury, a toxic mixture that fueled his quiet madness and lust for power. But in that instant, he was diminished and so, requested the slave girl he’d thrown into one of the rooms in the west wing. He would be better than his father… He would be better than this meek business they ran on the sly. Julian would come to rule over a land if he had to conquer it with his bare hands.

Lost in his thoughts, Julian didn’t realize a voice had called to him until he’d turn for another glass of brandy. Dressed in loose, tailored trousers and a cotton tunic that revealed a little too much chest, he shifted toward the door where the two stood to analyze the slaved he’d punished.

“You may go.” He dismissed the blonde without so much as a glance, eyeing Tasar. He didn’t take notice of her features the first time around, but seeing her now, she was decently attractive, if a little thin and pale. Pointing to a cabinet, Julian moved toward one of the finely crafted sitting chairs to rest as he commanded,”The brandy is there, fetch me a glass.”

[Tasar]

Cleaning herself was not an easy task. By the end of it, Tasar's skin felt raw and red... hot as if she was a fully-blooded aukari, rather than the half breed she knew herself to be. No matter how much she scrubbed, she could not wash away the stench of urine that assaulted her nose with ever breath she took. Memories of her training in Athart meant that she knew the smell was no longer lingering around her, but she couldn't help but feel filthy, and the weakness in her body, having lived on nothing but stale bread and water for a number of trials, she didn't feel like she'd put enough effort into it.

But the young Master was waiting for her, and Tasar knew better than to test his patience when he had had the mercy to release her from her punishment. She towelled herself dry and wrung her hair out before slipping into the dress laid out ready. The pair remained silent, Tasar staring at herself in the darkened mirror as the other slave fixed her hair, which had fallen into loose waves, into a haphazard, yet elegant, bun. Once done, the two were on the move again, in silence once more, until the other girl whispered some final words of warning. After her week of punishment, Tasar would do everything she could to heed the warning.

After a deep exhale, the redhead quietly entered the expansive library. Though extravagant, Tasar barely noticed; a slave was not to have interest in such things. Her eyes remained locked on a spot near Julian's elbow - she could see all of him through her peripheral vision, but she was not so presumptuous as to look directly at him. That was not worthy of her station. Despite her efforts, she could not help the small, quick inhalation of breath, which hitched, as the man turned, and Tasar noticed his well toned physique. She mentally slapped herself for thinking that there were worse masters she could have.

The slave stood still, arms clasped loosely behind her back and, though her head was lowered, she was not hunched. It was a position all slaves had been taught, one which apparently pleased men (and women). Tasar could feel the man's eyes roving over her skin, and she hoped he liked what he saw. “Fetch me a glass.” Springing into action isn't quite what Tasar did, for she retained a completely calm outward countenance, moving fluidly and what she hoped was seductively, to pour out a small dram of brandy. Approaching him, she stopped a few feet short and then bowed her head properly.

She opened her mouth to speak, but then decided better of it. The words of a slave would mean nothing to a man such as he. Tasar did not think that Julian would not want her words of thanks, nor her apologies. He would not be pleased to here how remorseful she was, nor how grateful she was to be released. If anything, she might fuel his anger further... The silence was unnerving, but she held her tongue, and merely held out the glass, waiting for her master to accept it.

[Julian Aranaz]

Julian watched the girl move with trained elagance as she stepped to the cabinets, removed a glass and the disguised bottle of brandy, and poured out the liquid addiction into a glass for him. She poured far less than what the other women gave him, but she was untrained to his preferences. When she’d handed him the glass, he swirled the fine liquid briefly, “This isn’t enough.” He merely said before letting the drink slide from his palm and shatter on the floor beside the chair. “Another.”

He watched her expression as she quickly turned and found satisfaction when he saw that she was unnerved. Her conditioning to please her Master was something the man fed into by constantly testing the boundaries of mistake and punishment. It was a cruel game, but one he thrived on. It gave him the sense of control that he lusted for.

When she’d return again, Julian would prop his elbow on the armrest and his chin within his palm, “Would you make me fetch my own drink?” He asked, his voice unimpressed while he waited for her response. “Then come closer.”

The tension she emitted was tasteful as Julian wasted no time locking his hand around her wrist and dragging her onto his lap. Her grace faltered for a moment with the shock of his actions and even a bit thereafter when she realized just how she ended up. The glass was still in her hand and yet, he didn’t take it from her. “Drink it.” He commanded. If she would try to refuse, his eyes would narrow, spelling out certain punishment without words. Once she would sip from the drink, a lazy smirk would spread to the corner of his lip. “Strong, isn’t it?”

“This is alcohol, slave, and if you’re not aware, it’s illegal in Viden.” Taking the glass from her then, Julian knocked it back without a care, offering the floor the cup once more, though this time, it did not break. “And if you’re not aware,” He continued, “You are one of the criminals that helps fuel this lucrative business we have here.”

His hand started to roam up her shoulder and neck, into her hair where it found the knot holding her bun in place and released it. Fisting a handful of soft, damp locks, Julian pulled her head back sharply, exposing her throat. While he did this, he spoke lightly to her, as if this was a simple, natural conversation, “But I have to assume you don’t have the knowledge to figure this, because if you did, you would know that my father and myself protect you, protect this establishment, protect the money that is made here…”

At this point, he started to push the girl off him by her hair and stood himself, dragging her with him to the burning fire. “Kneel.” He hissed and forced her closer to the fire by her hair. It’s heat radiated unpleasantly against her skin as she was put close to it. “So you will be aware from now on, slave, that next time I tell you to do something, you will do it or your next punishment will be your last.” Releasing her, Julian exhaled through his nose, his nostrils flaring slightly as he watched her with a darkness that hovered so intensely in his eyes.

“Lock the door and return to me.”

[Tasar]

Trained to perfection, Tasar did not react as she watched, out of the corner of her eye, as the glass of rare liqueur fall to the floor. If anything was a sign of the wealth of this family, it was this scion’s willingness to waste such a precious, illicit commodity. She did not move as the shattered glass fell over her bare feet, and a few drops of liquid splashed against her toes. Despite her best efforts, however, she could not maintain a completely impassive expression as she finally glanced down.

For a moment, she hesitated at the man’s next command. She debated whether or not she should pick up the broken shards of glass on the floor before getting the brandy for him again. “Yes, Master Julian,” she murmured softly as she made her decision, and turned and hurried over to the cabinet upon which the brandy glasses and bottle rested. This time, she poured more than a generous potion. As she did, she wondered how many of these Julian had already consumed. Was he already drunk?

Drink in hand, Tasar turned and stepped back over to the man, who then ordered her to come closer. Stealing herself, she gently placed her foot over the tiny shards of glass, unable to suppress her hiss as she did so. She did not have long to suffer through the pain though, for she was pulled off her feet and into the lap of her Master’s son. It was pure luck, rather than skill, which kept the brandy in the glass. She tried to steady herself, though made no effort to move from the man’s lap.

When asked to drink the liquid, Tasar did so without question, such was her desperation not to anger the man while she was in such a precarious position. She sipped the liquid, and fought to spit the fiery liqueur pack up; it was so strong, burning her tongue. Forcing the brandy down, she gasped. Oh, how badly it burned. “It is strong, Master Julian.”Her voice was hoarse as she responded.

The Aranaz Family Business: the fruit farmers who sold frozen fruit to the world. That was what all of Viden thought. And a smaller amount of people also knew of the illicit activities of the business. Tasar knew. Of course she knew. It was the reason she had not been allowed to leave the compound, why she was chained to her bed each night. As yet, she was not trusted, and here the man was treating her as if she had completely ignored the world around her. But she responded anyway, anything to keep the man happy, “This slave is pleased to assist in any way she can, Master Julian.”

Tasar managed to suppress a shiver as Julian’s warm hand traced up her skin, into her hair, releasing her auburn locks threading his fingers through them. Head yanked back, she inhaled sharply, but did not struggle against his hold. She spoke to her as if she were senseless, without thought of her own. The slaves of Athart were trained to obey orders without question, but that did not mean that Tasar could not rationalise why she was doing something - if she did not have that skill, she would not be able to grow to know her owners well enough to anticipate their needs. She was slowly beginning to use that skill to understand Master Julian’s motives, needs and wants…

Pulled by her hair, Tasar scrambled to keep up, crawling across the ground like a loyal dog on a leash. Fire was something Tasar, as a half-aukari had always been warily respectful of. Her skin warmed to the point where it grew unpleasant. He hissed threats at her, with such intensity that she believed every word he uttered. There was no denying the glint in her eyes, illuminated by the firelight as she, momentarily, forgot her place and looked up to meet the eyes of Julian Aranaz. She was frightened. “Yes, Master…” She responded to both his threats and his commend. She stood and immediately did as directed.

She avoided adding his name to the end. All Aranaz slaves made the distinction between their owners in the compound: Tasar was a family slave, not the property of Julian. Her ultimate Master was Julian’s father. But for tonight, she would bow to his obvious desire to have complete dominion over her. She would be his tonight.

[Pegasus]

Tasar

Points!:

Story: 5/5
Collaboration: 5/ 5
Structure: 5/ 5

Knowledge:

Alcohol: Illegal in Viden
Detection: Hearing without seeming to listen
Detection: Determining area without sight
Discipline: Staying calm in panic
Discipline: Serve by suffering
Discipline: Staying calm in isolation
Endurance: Walking on glass shards
Etiquette: Wine serving
Etiquette: The best slave is an invisible slave
Etiquette: Appropriate facial expressions for a slave
Etiquette: Apologise to everyone.
Etiquette: Bow the head as a sign of meekness
Julian: Heir to the Aranaz family
Julian: Given to extreme entrances
Julian: Does not like being addressed as 'child'
Julian: Stabbed one of his father's guests in anger.
Slavery: It is not enough to be willing to serve, you must show it.
Slavery: Insignificance and invisibility are your tools.
Slavery: Emotions are unacceptable.
Slavery: It is not your place to have an opinion
Slavery: It is your role to prove your owner right.
Slavery: Do not question

Loot:

NA

Fame:

None

Devotion:

None

Magic:

These points may NOT be used for arcana

Julian

Points!:

Story: 5/5
Collaboration: 5/ 5
Structure: 5/ 5

Knowledge:

Blades (Knife): Grab and stab
Business Management: Scheduling your tasks in a day
Discipline: Maintaining your calm outward demeanour
Discipline: Regaining control after a temporary loss
Intimidation: Pushing boundaries
Intimidation: Physical attack is intimidating at dinner
Intimidation: The threat of punishment.
Intimidation: Pointing out vulnerabilities
Leadership: Clear commands
Leadership: Leading by fear?
Negotiation: Point out rewards compared to cost
Negotiation: Sometimes, negotiation is over rated and a straight answer is needed
NPC: Janik Rovert from the Red Herald Tavern
NPC: Nikolus Gamree from the Crystal Rose Restaurant
NPC: Ayana Kece from the brothel
NPC: Tobren: Your father
Research: Scouring the library
Research: Books don't always have the answer
Rhetoric: Charm and grace
Rhetoric: Subliminal messages are sometimes very obvious
Rhetoric: Simply stating the facts
Strength: Pulling blades from wood.

Loot:

NA

Fame:

-3 (bad deeds)

Devotion:

None

Magic:

These points may NOT be used for arcana

Overview:

General comments.
Story Wow - what an intense story! I have to say that was a real roller coaster of emotions and it was a story which was, frankly, expertly written. Pace, characterisation, the whole thing. Loved it!
Structure Beautiful writing, both of you.

Please do PM me if you think I've missed anything or you have any questions!