Beast of Zarall

by E B Rose

  “Right.” Lygor sipped his wine as he studied the Union leaders’ faces. Vadithas was frowning. Naelar sat back down, scratching his chin and looking at the ceiling, thinking. Ruzen took his head between his hands.

  “I like a customer who knows what they want,” Naelar said. “I like them even more if they also know how to pay.”

  “What you ask of us is not a small favour, Your Highness,” Vadithas said carefully. “What are you offering in return?”

  Lygor smirked. “Well, let’s negotiate.”

  Negotiations were harsh. Valnar was glad he wasn’t sitting at that table. He’d rather face an army head on than racing his wits against these men.

  Ruzen asked for tax free entry fees to the arenas and the cities to give up on their cuts from registration fees of contestants. He also demanded illegal arenas to be tracked and shut down. Ink convinced him to accept the terms for tax free entries only for five years, starting after Lygor’s coronation. Cities would continue to get their cuts from registration fees. Lygor promised enslavement as the punishment for operating illegal arenas, and agreed to reward whoever reported these establishments to the authorities. Valnar hoped Valer and Welda were smart enough to stop their operations on their own.

  As Lygor predicted, Vadithas pushed for financial aid to slave farms, but settled for removal of land taxes for breeders, for two years. When it was Naelar’s turn to speak, both Lygor and Ink were almost exhausted.

  Naelar drummed his fingers at the table. He was gazing at the far corner of the room, nodding to himself. He smiled. “I want you to legalize cannibalism.”

  Lygor couldn’t hide his flinching. Ink’s jaw dropped. Even the other Union leaders turned to look at their colleague. No one expected a demand like this.

  “Excuse me?” Ink asked.

  “Legalize the consumption of human flesh in Chinderia,” Naelar said, drawing each word out as if speaking to a child.

  Lygor still stared at the man, his eyes narrowed to slits. Ink took a sip from his glass and regained his composure. “Why?” the Kaldorian demanded.

  “How many years does it take to raise a proper purebred beast?” Naelar asked Vadithas.

  “Minimum fourteen, though sixteen would give them better chances in the arenas.”

  “Let’s say, fourteen years of hard work. The average price for a purebred beast in the slave market is two hundred Blues. What happens when that beast goes out for their first fight, and endures a permanent injury?”

  Ink glared at the man, breathing through his nose. Lygor was still quiet. Naelar continued: “All that hard work and investment is lost.”

  “All the reasons to take good care of those fighters,” Ink sneered.

  Naelar raised an eyebrow at Ink’s choice of words, but didn’t comment on it. “Right now,” he said, “the only buyers of damaged slaves are Tribesmen beyond the northern borders. They are fully aware of the fact that they can force Chinderian traders for whatever price they want to pay. I don’t care about temporary tax benefits, Your Highness. Open up another market for my traders, so they can make up for their losses.”

  Lygor connected his hands on the table. His voice grew cold when he spoke. “Chinderia follows The Twelve’s light,” he said. “And the Twelve Riders forbid cannibalism. Even if I do permit that, you will not find a market for it in Chinderia. People will refuse to consume human flesh and the Twelve’s temples will protest against it.”

  Valnar was severely proud of Lygor when the prince brought up The Twelve’s teachings. What that man suggested was blasphemy. It was obnoxious. The idea made Valnar sick. He could see it in both Lygor’s and Ink’s expressions. Even Ziuw seemed uncomfortable. This was out of line.

  Naelar rolled his eyes at the mention of the religion. “What did The Twelve do for you, Prince Lygor? Did the priests even reprimand Kastian’s treason? Murdering a beloved king in his sleep? Besides,” Naelar smirked. “Public wasn’t the only market in my mind.” He turned to look at Vadithas.

  Ink seemed like he could throw up at any moment. He shook his head. “This is disgusting.”

  “Since slave farms are not getting any financial aid other than waiving the land taxes,” Naelar said. “They would benefit from cheaper, alternative sources. And my traders would have a way of recovering from their losses on damaged slaves. Prince Lygor gets Union’s support, and everybody wins.”

  Vadithas nodded. “Meat is meat. Farms will buy it.”

  Ink covered his mouth and looked away. Valnar’s face turned red. “This is blasphemy,” Valnar spoke, not being able to hold back anymore. “Consuming human flesh is a sin, and forcing other humans to do it is no different.”

  “Technically,” interrupted Ziuw, “Chinderian law defines slaves as property, not human. In that sense, they’re not much different than livestock animals. Saying that, I would be the last person to wish to see one on my plate.”

  “And the Twelve’s teachings say slaves don’t have rhoas,” Naelar added. “Even the gods don’t regard them as humans. So, what’s bothering you?”

  “This is wrong!”

  “Why? Are you suggesting they’re humans?”

  “No...”

  “Then, what is your problem?”

  “Master Naelar,” Lygor spoke. “If you commit a crime tomorrow, Chinderian law can enslave you. And if you happen to break your arm on your way to a slave farm, you can be the one who’ll end up in a slaughterhouse. I want you all to think about this carefully before answering. Is this really what you’re asking for?”

  Naelar erased his smile, turned his gaze to the ceiling, and appeared to consider deeply. He met Lygor’s gaze and pursed his lips. “I’m fine with that.”

  “It’ll inspire people to be law-abiding, good citizens,” Ruzen joined in. “They’ll be less likely to commit crimes, like opening up illegal arenas.”

  Lygor gritted his teeth. He sighed. “Gods have mercy on my rhoa. I will permit it... under strict restrictions!”

  Valnar couldn’t hold back his gasp. He gawked at Lygor, who had studied and memorized all twelve passages from The Twelve’s book with Valnar; who had prayed with him many times, after his family was murdered. Prince Lygor had been a loyal subject of the Twelve Riders; blessed by Kiejain’s sword and might at every battle. Valnar couldn’t believe he was permitting these people to spit on the Twelve’s teachings.

  Were they, though? Valnar glanced at Beast, who still stood motionless, as if not hearing any of this. Then he looked at the slave with the blank tattoo. Even Valnar agreed these were not humans in his gods’ eyes. So...

  Naelar swallowed a smirk. “What kind of restrictions?”

  “I will determine the details after I receive my crown,” Lygor said firmly.

  Naelar chewed his lips, considering. He shrugged. “Okay, that’s fair enough.”

  Lygor kept his fiery glare on Naelar longer than required, burying the man’s victorious smile. He finally turned to Kyrophe. “And what does the White Tower want, Mistress Kyrophe?”

  The woman’s motherly smile deepened the lines on her face. She spoke with her monotonous voice: “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?” Ink, still looking sick from the last demand, ground his jaw. “What does that mean?”

  Kyrophe’s eyebrows drew closer in an apologetic grimace. “I’m afraid White Tower will not support Prince Lygor’s cause.”

  “Why not?” Lygor asked calmly.

  “Prince Lygor,” Kyrophe bluntly. “Your plan is stupid.”

  “Excuse me?”

  She gestured at Beast. “There is a reason Lion of Zarall was sentenced to White Tower. It had engaged in multiple Acts of Defiance. It disobeyed and publicly humiliated its owner. It attacked free men. It is severely broken.”

  Valnar agreed. Finally, someone saw the truth about the purebred. Too bad that someone was sitting on the opposite side of the table.

  “She’s right,” Ruzen said. “I saw him at Switchblade that day. He acted like a freeborn brat who w
as enslaved yesterday.”

  “And all your plans rely on it,” Kyrophe continued, still addressing the slave as an object. “What if it disobeys you too?”

  “He won’t,” Lygor sneered.

  “Also, there’s the possibility of it losing Twilight of Infinity. King Kastian can buy the best beasts in the country. What if Lion of Zarall can’t win? Then what?”

  “He’ll win.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “Because he’s bloody good,” Ink answered in Lygor’s place.

  “I can see you truly trust in its ability to fight, but that is not enough for me. I’d like to see it with my own eyes.”

  “You wanna see him fight?”

  “Master Ruzen,” Kyrophe said. “I believe there’s a tournament coming up right here in Calae?”

  “Fire Breath,” Ruzen said straightaway. “It’s in a week.”

  “That’s the one. How about you get your Lion of Zarall to win Fire Breath for us. Then, I’ll be convinced of its capability to win Twilight of Infinity.”

  “I’m reluctant to display him to the public before Twilight of Infinity,” Lygor objected. “I don’t want any premature attention.”

  “Oh, that wouldn’t be any problem,” Kyrophe swatted her hand. “If it wins Fire Breath, we’ll convince Lord Brocton to pledge his loyalty to you and we’ll coronate you here in Calae. We’ll announce the people of your return and of Lion of Zarall’s victory.”

  “I’m not sure if that would be a smart move,” Ink said. “Kastian’s wrath will be turned to Calae.”

  “By the time Kastian or his puppets get to Calae, you’ll be on your way to Euroad, along with Lord Brocton’s six hundred men. And Master Vadithas’s hundred purebreds as your personal security.”

  Lygor leaned back on his chair, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. His eyes were scanning the table, as if seeing things that were not there.

  “It’s risky,” Ink said.

  “Look at it this way, Prince Ingelhar,” Naelar said. “If Lion doesn’t win Fire Breath, that means he doesn’t have what it takes to win Twilight of Infinity anyway. You might as well find out if he can do it or not, before fully committing to this plan”

  “And if it can’t win Fire Breath,” Kyrophe continued, “we’ll make sure you get out of the city safely. The Union will know nothing about Prince Lygor’s presence here.”

  “Okay,” Lygor said finally. “He won’t lose.”

  “Excellent.”

  “One more thing,” Vadithas said with his musical voice. He leaned on one arm of his chair. “I wanna borrow the beast for tonight.”

  Lygor raised his eyebrows. Ink spoke for him. “For what?”

  “Mistress Kyrophe is right. I don’t trust his obedience. I wanna retrain him.”

  Beast’s back stiffened, but he managed to keep his eyes fixed on the floor. Lygor was less successful in controlling his reaction. “And what exactly does that retraining include?” he asked with a snarl.

  Vadithas smiled unpleasantly. “I’ll fuck him.”

  Beast’s head jerked up in Vadithas’s direction. He looked directly in Master of Blood’s eyes. Valnar had seen the same expression in the cage that night, when Beast was under his Kill Word.

  “You see that?” Vadithas pointed at Beast’s face. “That stare? That shouldn’t happen in a purebred.”

  Beast shifted his weight between his feet. He forced his eyes down, fidgeted, glanced at Lygor, and glued his eyes firmly to the floor.

  “I agree,” Ruzen said. “He needs to be retrained. Master Vadithas is the best slave breeder. He’ll know how to fix him.”

  “He’s not a whore,” Ink said through his teeth. His face was flushed red.

  Naelar blinked as if Ink’s comment made no sense. “He’s a slave,” he said matter-of-factly.

  Ink put his hand on Lygor’s arm. “You can’t possibly agree to this.”

  Lygor raised his chin. “Lion of Zarall never gave me any reason to doubt his obedience. He’ll comply with my orders. He doesn’t require any retraining.”

  “Then order him to lay down under me right here and we’ll see if he’ll obey.”

  “I’ve been generous enough to you,” Lygor almost whispered. “Don’t test my good intentions, Master Vadithas.”

  “I’m afraid the union will stand firm on this subject, Prince Lygor. There’s nothing more dangerous than a purebred who has committed defiance.”

  The idea made Lygor as uncomfortable as his companions. Valnar could see how much his prince hated the Union leaders for cornering him like this. He’d already accepted an act that was against Twelve’s teachings, no matter how they put it. He’d accepted taking the risk of an early coronation, not to mention risking the slave’s neck before Twilight. He didn’t want to give in more than he already did, but he’d come a long way to drop everything now.

  And, for a slave…

  This decision was going to hurt his prince. Lygor was going to agree. He had no choice but to agree. And, the responsibility of the decision was going to hurt him. Valnar couldn’t allow that.

  He stepped forward.

  “I’m afraid Prince Lygor can’t make that decision.”

  All the eyes turned to Valnar, except Beast’s and Lygor’s. Beast tensed, but didn’t pull his gaze off the floor. Lygor looked to the side, his eyes not focusing on anything in particular.

  “I am the Owner of the slave.”

  “And why is that?”

  “For security reasons. To keep Prince Lygor’s identity hidden.”

  “So, Prince Lygor doesn’t even own Lion of Zarall, yet he’s so confident the slave will obey him.”

  “I will transfer the slave’s ownership to him when my prince deems it’s safe to do so.”

  “Well, that doesn’t change the Union’s position. The slave still needs to be retrained.”

  Valnar glanced at Lygor, looking for any sign, a small gesture, telling him to stop. Lygor avoided looking at him. That was enough answer for Valnar.

  “I trust he will be unharmed?”

  Beast’s head snapped back at Valnar. His expression was somewhere between fury and hurt. Then, he stared at Lygor, who continued facing away.

  “Nothing he can’t physically recover from,” Vadithas said. “I despise inflicting any permanent injury to an expensive purebred.”

  “You have time until sunrise,” Valnar said. He felt sick.

  Vadithas pursed his lips. “It’ll have to do. Well then, let me accommodate you all at my manor until the Fire Breath. This is the safest place in the whole city.”

  “Send someone to pick up our belongings from our inn,” Lygor said, getting ready to stand up.

  “Umm...” Ziuw raised his hand like a child asking for permission to speak. “How about Casters Board of Chinderia? I’m... I’m voting on behalf of Adept Kato. I... I demand benefits for all Chinderian mages.”

  Remaining leaders of the Union looked at him as if watching a snail learning to crawl. Naelar sighed. “Casters will have the honour of giving you an advisor to serve you at your court, like they did to your father. They will have access to King Leonis’s private collection of artefacts. And they will want you to clear that mage, Belandir something’s name, so that Eternal Pillar can call their investigator back.”

  “I will see the collection myself first, and then decide.”

  “Deal.”

  Lygor stood up, and the others followed his lead. Ziuw opened and closed his mouth, trying to say something, but nobody paid him any attention.

  Beast was still staring at Lygor.

  “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Prince Lygor,” Naelar said.

  Lygor gave him a curt nod.

  “I will show you to the guest wing,” Vadithas said.

  Lygor and Ink walked out of the study room first. Beast was one step behind them and Valnar followed close. As soon as they were out in the hallway, Beast spoke: “Master... You can’t...”

  Beast re
ached as if wanting to grab Lygor’s arm and turn him to face him. Valnar held him by the scruff of his neck and pushed him against the wall, blocking his way. Lygor walked away, his back stiff and his eyes firmly fixed ahead.

  “Lygor!” Beast called behind him. “Lygor, please...”

  Lygor didn’t look back.

  “Let me talk to him,” Beast told Valnar. “He’ll... he’ll change his mind.”

  When the Union leaders walked out into the hallway, Beast stopped talking and looked down.

  “I will send someone to collect him,” Vadithas smirked. Valnar nodded stiffly.

  Valnar waited until they were out of reach. “Lygor needs this alliance,” he hissed. “I won’t let you risk everything.”

  “Just... just let me talk to him.”

  “Give me your sword.”

  “Please, just let me talk to Lygor.”

  Valnar reached to unbuckle the sword’s belt from Beast’s waist. The purebred slapped his hands off and took a step back. He rested his hand on the sword’s hilt.

  Sweat trickled down Valnar’s back, as he resisted the urge to grasp his own sword. Beast paled, realizing what he was doing, yet he didn’t put his hand down.

  “Give me the sword,” Valnar repeated.

  Beast didn’t reply, nor did he move. The owner and the slave stared at each other, tension between them almost tangible. They heard approaching footsteps around the corner. Four men, dressed in simple uniforms of Vadithas’s servants, marched into the hallway.

  Beast swallowed. “Don’t do this,” he said, barely moving his lips. His expression cracked and Valnar witnessed the purebred’s fear.

  “Sir Valnar, we’re here for the slave.” The men stopped behind Valnar. They’d brought chains.

  Valnar exhaled. “Take him.”

  The sword hissed when it left its sheath. Beast held it between him and Vadithas’s men, as he backed against the wall. The men hesitated.

  “Padlociatius,” Valnar said.

  One of the men kicked the sword off Beast’s limp fingers after he collapsed. They twisted his arms behind him and clamped the manacles around his wrists. They put another pair on his ankles. They lifted Beast’s paralysed, defenceless body off the floor and carried him back the way they came.