Hell's Bailiff - Chapter 3 Part 3

Hell's Bailiff - Chapter 3 Part 3

There was a short, slender human woman in a tight suit of light chain mail. She wasn't armed for bear like the other fighters on sale, which was a bit odd and probably meant to pique the interest of buyers. She had a pretty oval face and narrow chin. Her very black hair was cut extra-short and groomed simply, with a part over her right eye. Her back was very straight though she sat with legs crossed and hands over her knee in a classically demure yet feminine pose. The slaver noticed my interest in her and came over.

"This one's a good trainer for your pit fighters. And pretty enough for your bed, 'eh?"

"I'll die in the pits first before I share anyone's bed!" she spat.

The auctioneer cuffed her. "No backtalk, slave!"

She stiffened and clenched her fists tightly. Her eyes closed briefly as she got her temper under control and when she straightened, her posture was dignified and her chin high.

Ursa stood back with arms crossed and an appraising look. I think she was impressed.

"What's your name?" I asked her, and extended my arm in friendship.

"I am Breileina," she replied, and uncertainly at first clasped my arm, then with assertive and respectful firmness.

"What makes him say you would be a good trainer, Breileina?"

"I am-- was... a patrol captain. We were betrayed. My squad and I were captured. They're gone now... Lost in the fighting pits."

"Been here long?"

"Not at all. But our early wins led them to put us up against veterans we had no chance against. They were good men and women and I was proud to serve with them."

"You didn't fight in the pits with them?"

"I wanted to, but they kept me out of it. They kept me as a trainer for their stable."

"And you're no longer with them now because...?"

"Because we lost. And they blamed me. They wanted to sell me off as a-- well... you can guess."

"Hmm... you never fought?"

"Look at 'er scrawny figure," the auctioneer laughed. "You think she'd last more than a few seconds in the pits?"

"Why don't you give me a sword and we'll see how long I last gutting you?" she taunted.

"You keep running that mouth of yours and I'll give you my sword, all right." The auctioneer lewdly patted his crotch.

She whipped around, her face an ugly scowl. "Touch me and I'll--"

The slaver was in her face in an instant. He had her by her neck and lifted her just enough that she had to be on tiptoes. "And you'll what?"

Her lips trembled as she seethed.

"That's right. You'll do nothing," he sneered.

"There's a geas[1] on all of 'em that protects the owner", he explained. "So she can't raise a finger against me. She doesn't have to obey everything I say, but I love to take the whip to her type. Ha ha ha!"
[1] (A spell or curse put upon someone to make sure they fulfill their task and don't betray their master. For instance a Geas could be put upon a servant to make sure that they stay loyal, or upon a mercenary to make sure they don't double cross their employee. Failure to do so will result in the victim being killed in one way or another by the Geas. Used a lot by Celtic Shamans and Norse Guayla (witch doctors). Not used offensively as any magic user able to preform a Geas can easily destroy enemies in a multitude of other ways.)

He slapped her lightly across the face back and forth and laughed.

"Gotta yank her chain now and then. Keeps her fire stoked," the auctioneer grinned at me.

He threw her at my feet.

"You said 'patrol captain'... You're just a soldier, then?" I asked when she'd picked herself off the ground.

"'Just' a soldier'? I suppose you could say that," she frowned, and dusted herself off.

"Can you take a small team on a covert mission?"

"I can do raids if we have the drop on them. But if you mean infiltration, I'm no scout. I relied on them to get my team into position."

"Hmm..."

"You're not here for the fighting pits, are you?"

"No."

"Then what are you looking for?"

I looked her right in the eye. In many ways she was like my Kristy. Maybe a bit too forthright at times but essentially a good-hearted person. She cared about her men, had good discipline, was proud of what she did. She was a leader. She'd make a great captain.

"I'm looking for a leader -- and loyalty."

"The squid-heads can do their psychic thing to ensure loyalty, if that's what you need. Won't make her less of a trainer," said the slaver.

"So why haven't you done that?"

"The extra expense. These fighters are all destined for the pit one way or another. No way out of there anyway. If you're going to bed her though, I'd highly recommend it. Otherwise the first thing she'll do is bite your dick off when you shove it in her smart mouth."

"You're disgusting," said Breileina.

"You're in my wet dreams every night, sweetheart! And your scowling mouth is where you take me first and last. Ha ha ha!"

"Please get me out of here," she whispered. "I'll do anything you want."

"Except share my bed, apparently."

She rolled her eyes. "Men. You're all the same."

She turned to go but I grabbed her.

"Wait."

She stopped and looked meaningfully at my hand around her upper arm. I relaxed it into a gentler tug but didn't let go.

"Would you swear your loyalty to me?"

I could see she was conflicted. She probably just wanted out and was considering what kind of deal she'd be making with me. And just what 'loyalty' would require her to do. Under different circumstances, I think she would be the type to be true to her word if she pledged her loyalty. Whether slavery had made lies and betrayal acceptable to her, I didn't know.

"... No."

I let her go. She went and sat back down in her chair, crossed her legs, rested her chin in one hand, and tried not to look at anything except a very interesting pebble on the ground. When I turned to go, she looked up at me, maybe with regret.

I let her think about her position for a few seconds.

"How much for her?" I asked the auctioneer.

"Five hundred."

"Pfft," Ursa scoffed. "I'm wondering why she's still hot property if they'd let her go as a trainer. Maybe she's not as good as you say."

I was secretly glad Ursa started the bargaining. It wouldn't have strengthened her opinion of me if I had tried to get her on the cheap. Slave or not, it was still undignified, and that was something her rigid back had shown me she still held on to.

"She's good enough for him, in more ways than one." The slaver crossed his arms and dug in.

"Yeah? You know that first hand?" Ursa asked, disgust in her mien.

"I haven't touched her... Yet."

Breileina looked at me with pleading eyes -- the closest thing to begging for one of her proud and still unbroken spirit.

"Four fifty. Or I let her loose on you after I buy her."

"Bwahaha! Alright, four fifty, and only because I pity you. She's stubborner than a mule but that's your problem now."

I completed the transaction with one of his assistants.

"Take everything off, slave. Your new master can get you clothes... if he wants."

"You filthy pig!" Breileina seethed between clenched teeth.

But she obeyed, and slowly started stripping down by loosening the belt around her waist.

I pressed some coin into the slaver's hand. "She looks good in that."

He stared at the coin, weighing if it were worth giving up the pleasure of one final humiliation. In the end he closed his palm, sealing the deal.

"Bah! I've seen sweeter flesh in the meat market," he sneered at her, then left to tend to other customers.

Breileina took a deep breath and let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you."

"Well?" I asked meaningfully.

Her cornered, uncertain eyes looked up into mine and after a space of silence, she nodded. "My life is yours."

"Welcome to the team." I smiled and held out my hand.

She took it in a firm clasp, straightened her back, raised her chin proudly. "Yes sir."

(to be continued)

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