Slave Unbound Ch. 41

Chapter 41

At the Duke's Gala

**Characters and text are protected under copyright law

Disclaimer: This story is not meant as 'erotica', but dark adventure-fantasy. It may contain material that sensitive readers might find uncomfortable. Please be advised.

It was a tradition for the estate of Duke Stratmore to hold a grand gala party a few days before the annual Grand Arena Grand Melee. The Duke was one of the most prolific supporters for the arena, often donating relative fortunes each month in endorsements and sponsored events. Also, as the governing lord of Solace, below the authority of the Prime Council, the Grand Arena's successes and power only added to his own influence and popularity. The Grand Melee Gala had to be as big an event as the Melee itself.

So, the gala was always full of important guests, composed of the highest of the city's upper class, the most noteworthy of individuals, the owners of the arena houses participating, and any social luminaries whose opinions carried any real weight in politics. It served not only as a social feather in one's cap to be invited, but gave the House owners a chance to mingle and network with people of power and industry, making connections with people who might grant them sponsorship and endorsements.

Only the owners of those Houses who had submitted fighters for the event were officially invited, which commonly would have come out to only around a dozen or less of the eighteen houses currently operating. This year, however, every single house had submitted a pair of fighters. Even the newest ones, whose stables were likely nowhere near able to compete against the caliber of gladiator that the higher houses, had registered fighters this time around.

It wasn't much of a secret as to why this year had such a higher turn-out. Most already knew that Lord Cornelius Venge had been using his influence and money to cajole and convince any owner who wasn't planning to submit fighters to do so. Nor was it much of a secret that he was also offering a special 'prize' of his own money to any House whose gladiator managed to kill House Firebridge's little blonde fighter during the event.

As scandalous as that might seem, it wasn't even very juicy gossip. Gladiators could be instructed to kill other gladiators in an event like this and often were. There was also nothing that prohibited someone from offering others some kind of remuneration for instructing theirs to do the same thing. Only if he'd offered them money to intentionally lose would he have been in any sort of violation and he was encouraging others to win.

Even that he was making no real effort to keep it quiet worked in the man's favor. By letting the details be public knowledge, even if not directly, it meant that no one could accuse him of trying to cook betting house odds. Not that the arena probably would have pursued such claims even if he had kept it a secret. Ultimately, one had to admire the man's brazenness with it.

Not that Oscar Bellock admired anything else about the man. Working his way through the press of guests milling about the large ballroom, he spied Venge seated off to the side of the flow of people, relaxing in a large stuffed chair, feet propped up on the back of a pleasure slave, and with a rather large glass of spirits in his hand. Of course, his stationary position did nothing to hinder his social interactions, as people were more than willing to come to him. Venge occupied a place in society where people wanted his attention and the man loved it.

Oscar, on the other hand, abhorred it and normally preferred to skip parties like this. For all his usually thorny manner when he did attend social events, as an owner of a fairly profitable gladiatorial house, he got his own share of people who gravitated to him. At least, usually. This time, however, most of the other guests were steering rather clear of him.

Oscar Bellock laughed to himself as he considered the various looks he was getting. Or, more specifically, the looks his concubine was getting. It was rare enough to see someone bring a fyera, a beastperson, to a typical high-class social event, but one dressed up in the fineries of the nobles surrounding them and declared an actual concubine was courting absolute scandal. That it was the Grand Melee Gala, the biggest and most important of social events, only made that more so. On top of all that, Oscar had told Zinnia that she was encouraged to freely engage in conversation with anyone that they met and enjoy whatever treats and foods they had out for guests.

As far as Oscar was concerned, she was one of the guests, attending not as his pet or slave, but as his 'plus one'. At least, that was the story he was keeping to, should anyone comment. And he had already been quite prompt in giving that story more than once already. He wanted people to talk about this, to whisper it as gossip in private parlors, so that Zendrich and the Prime would be very loath to want to let it be known they were in bed with him or be too quick to leverage things against him.

And, if he was honest about it, he was rather enjoying Zinnia's company. She'd already made a stuffy and potentially tedious party into something quite fun. He'd never really considered her as anything but just a simple-minded pleasure slave before, but he was starting to realize that she had a lot more charm than he'd ever given her credit for.

Of course, her general excitement at just being at a party was amusing all on its own. She was all jubilant smiles and energy, practically bouncing around looking at things and cheerily greeting people. Very few had responded with anything other than contempt or effrontery, but she'd not really noticed and Oscar was happy to have them being mostly avoided by the other guests.

Venge himself had even scowled at the sight of them a few times, though Oscar felt sure that was as much due to their previous talk at the arena as to Zinnia's presence. He'd noticed that Cornelius hadn't bothered to visit him with the offer to snuff Lady Marlowe's 'little blonde wonder'. His own fighters were more than capable and willing to play butcher and he didn't have much care one way or the other. Still, he thought it probably better that he not been offered the little 'off-the-record' prize. He didn't really want anything from Venge, money or attention.

All of a sudden, from out of the milling guests emerged a man that Oscar found just as tedious and bothersome as Venge. Baron Tophias Wessincott. He was very rich, if only mildly influential among government and the social strata of the city, which allowed him to be a strong supporter and endorser of the Grand Arena. He often offered sponsorship arrangements with gladiatorial Houses, especially newer ones trying to get off the ground. This was mostly due to his arrogant belief that he knew the business of running a gladiatorial house better than someone who actually owned one.

His sponsorship and donations always came with the cost of him butting into the owners' businesses and trying to control how they ran their Houses. He believed he was an authority on gladiators and how to manage them, despite having never directly owned so much as a single gladiator himself. In his mind, however, the money he gave out as endorsements made him like a (not-so) silent partner in any House he gave support.

The ones who had been around long enough to not need the Baron's money and the meddling that came with it always politely declined any endorsement from him. So, he usually targeted the smaller and less stable House owners, who often found themselves forced to seek out support and funding to get established. Oscar himself had made the mistake of accepting some money from the Baron when he was first trying to get House Bloodwalker on its legs.

He'd regretted it almost within the first hour.

"Lord Bellock." Wessincott intoned as he strode up, an almost blisteringly beautiful woman on his arm. The woman wore something that miraculously managed to be both explicitly revealing and elegantly tasteful at the same time. She bore an expression floating somewhere between amusement and revulsion as she took in Zinnia on his lead chain. "I'm a touch surprised to find you at a party of this level of sophistication. As I remember it, you did not particularly care for this level of pageantry."

"I don't, Baron." Oscar said cordially. "However, it had been too long since I had a night out to socialize."

"Frankly, I'm equally amazed you were even given an invitation, registered to the event or not." Wessincott retorted dryly. "Your House isn't well known for its class and you've become quite infamous with your disregard for proper etiquette at late." He gave the fyera the briefest of glances, but his expression was much the same as his slave's was. "As well as your taste in pleasurable company."

Oscar could feel his face tightening, but fought to keep a diplomatic air by forcing a brief laugh. "I do like to stay controversial, Baron. I like to think of it as a way of setting myself apart from the crowd."

Wessincott gave his own laugh, but his was sardonic. "Well, you are most definitely 'apart' around here." He gave an exaggerated look around at the many guests who were keeping their distance from him and Zinnia. "For someone who says he's here to 'socialize', you're not really being all that social."

"It isn't my fault that no one wants to meet my new concubine, Baron." Oscar replied wryly, looking to Zinnia and giving her fuzzy face a brush. "Funny how fyera are so expensive because of their demand among this very class of people, yet it is so taboo for you have one. I assume people just don't like to admit they have such an affection for something that is so clearly not human."

The Baron shot him a dubious expression, as if to say that it was ridiculous for anyone to find a fyera attractive. "It is not the upper class who seek them out, Lord Bellock. I accept they may be popular among the degenerate peasantry, but no self-respecting aristocrat would lower themselves--"

"No, is true." Zinnia said, interrupting him, her expressions suggesting that she was trying to be helpful by correcting him, not so much out of taking any sort of offense. "Zinnia raised in brothels. Fyera most expensive to hire there. Only rich johns hire. Peasants not able afford fyera."

Wessincott glared at her as though she'd insulted him. "How dare you speak to me without invitation!" He barked at her. "A common slave is expected to be silent when their better is speaking. Some beastperson slave all the more."

Oscar pulled Zinnia a little closer to him, almost protectively. "This is my concubine, Baron. Not some 'common slave', beastperson or not. I gave her leave to speak as she wished, to whomever she wished. If that aggrieves you, then you should address that to me." He cocked an eyebrow at the nobleman. "Especially when your anger is obviously not over her speaking to you, but because she disagreed with you."

Baron Wessincott's face turned bright red with fury, but he seemed unwilling to allow himself to make any sort of real spectacle. Swallowing what was likely his first, gut-reaction, response, he exhaled before giving a much calmer reply. "I would only believe anything some animal-brained creature said on the same day that I saw sheep sprout wings and fly away. I stand by my assertion that no self-respecting person of high society would willingly sully themselves with something like her."

"And yet, she is right, Baron." Oscar countered coolly. "A member of her race costs more to bed for an hour than most common people make in a lifetime. They are the single most expensive pleasure race there is."

"Due to rarity, only." Wessincott sniffed. "They are expensive only because so few exist."

"That would still make them too costly for anyone but the wealthy to hire." Oscar returned without backing down an inch. "And if her race wasn't hired regularly for such prices, the brothels wouldn't prize them as they do. They would be commonly found in the same stalls one finds orlings and goblyns."

Wessincott's jaw bunched and worked, eyes boring into Oscar. "No proper person would openly admit to laying with such a thing." He growled. "Even if they had. Whatever pleasure there may be in something like her would not be worth the scandal to someone of good breeding and culture. She is--"

"She is my concubine, Baron." Oscar cut across him firmly. "One who I fucked on the carriage ride here, just most recently. Her cunt is probably the best place I've ever slid my manhood and I'm quite proud to say that I put it there often, to my great satisfaction." He gave his head a shake. "I find it far more shameful for someone of 'good breeding and culture' to indulge in something so pleasurable, then deny it simply because they are worried about what others might think."

Wessincott drew himself up and sniffed loudly. For a moment, he seemed about to say something more, but promptly just turned on his heel and walked away. Oscar grinned broadly as he watched the retreat, feeling certain the man would spend much of the rest of the evening gossiping about this and spreading the word of Oscar's choices and 'perversions'. Which was exactly what he wanted.

"I really should have begun bringing you to affairs like this a long time ago." He said to her as they began walking again, noting a few other nobles who had been near enough to overhear some of the exchange make a point to move out of their path. "This is much more tolerable of an obligation now."

"Zinnia doing good?" She asked, sounding almost amazed at herself. "Not in trouble for speaking to cranky Baron?"

"Zinnia doing perfect." He replied with a smile as he took her arm in his. "Personally, I thought you had a very clever response to his comments and am glad you decided to share them. He was being unnecessarily mean to you and foolish in his refusal to acknowledge the truth." He gave her head an affectionate pet. "And if anyone else says anything mean to you, you have permission to stick your clever little tongue out at them."

"Yes, Master." She gave a little nod of obedience. After a beat, she asked something more. "What 'concubine' mean? Master keep saying Zinnia is 'concubine' now."

"It's a way of saying that you are my favored companion, above being just a common pleasure slave." He explained casually. "Basically, it's like me identifying you a sort of 'slave-wife'. Thus why we are getting so many glares, my dear. As far as these people view it, I have mounted my pet cat and declared myself married to it."

"Zinnia not cat." Zinnia groused, puffing out her cheeks.

"I know you aren't." Oscar chuckled, reaching over to tap her playfully on the nose. "To me, you are a beautiful woman who just happens to be rather furry and exotic. And one whose mouth and cunt feels glorious." He noted that this made her beam proudly, as if he had paid her the most civil of compliments.

He gave her arm a pat. "Honestly though, I declared you my concubine simply to annoy people and stir the pot in society. In concept, a concubine is assumed to be one you have a particularly deep emotional connection with. However, very few people use it like that, treating it more like a social status statement and trophy. It's 'vogue' to have a concubine, so most people will declare a particularly attractive or exotic pleasure slave as one, regardless of their actual feelings for them."

He glanced around at the milling aristocrats. "I'm using it more like a weapon by naming a beastgirl slave as mine. An intentional attempt to create controversy. Even when it's mostly just for show, naming a slave a concubine announces they are a lover and someone you allow greater liberty in your home. A concubine is assumed to have been granted some level of influence in their owner's household. And it's truly more the idea of a fyera having any kind of power, rather than just the idea of me fucking one, that really offends these people."

When he looked at her, he could see there was some confusion in her expression, obviously not fully understanding everything about what he'd just said. However, he could also see some degree of understanding. He knew she wasn't actually stupid, just uneducated and simple-minded. She might not completely grasp why it was a scandal, but could follow that it was causing people problems. It was also clear that she understood that he'd not granted her this title out of anything he felt for her personally.

"So, Zinnia is concubine only because Master wants people be offended." She said slowly, a touch of melancholy in her eyes.

He considered her a moment, seeing her, possibly for the first time, as more than just some exotic toy and pawn to be used. "Yes." He said honestly. "Though only because the whole thing is ridiculous to begin with. However, you are welcome to play the role I've cast you in to your best benefit. If being a concubine comes with the assumption that the concubine has some level of authority, then you are welcome to take that boon."

Zinnia fixed him with an uncertain look. "Zinnia has author-an-tee?"

"Authority." He corrected her, but nodded. "In other words, I'm inviting you to not just be a pawn on the board, but to sit at the table and play the game with me. You would be a willing participant, not just someone I'm using. In exchange, I'll actually give you that influence and power that these people find so offensive for you to have."

A thoughtful expression crossed the fyera's face, working through the offer in her head. "Zinnia not sure she know how Master's game played. Zinnia never anything but a slave. Zinnia only taught how please people with body, not how... um... what is word?"

"How to manipulate people?" Oscar offered, glad she had not failed to understand what it was he was meaning with his metaphor.

She gave a nod. "Zinnia never good at mani... mah-nif... at make people do things."

"I beg to differ, my darling." Oscar said with a smirk. "You've enticed me many a time to abandon all decorum and have my way with you, even when I needed to be doing something else." He gave her a wink. "And I will help you, Zinnia. Honestly, I'm not very good at it either, so maybe we can help each other. If nothing else, it gives you license to be more than 'just a slave'."

Zinnia chewed on lower lip as she mentally chewed on the proposal. "Master teach Zinnia more too? Teach Zinnia about world? About things Zinnia dumb with?"

Oscar considered that a moment, then slowly nodded. "Let me start by imparting to you something that was once imparted to me by a field commander who served under me. He said there was two kinds of unintelligence: ignorance and incompetence. We'd often see men and women in the field who showed acts of true stupidity, sometimes costing the lives of their comrades. It was during a discussion with him regarding one of the more unfortunate occasions that he shared his philosophy."

He could practically hear the man's voice, like the low growl of a hunting dog, explaining it to him, all these years later. Field Commander Hartessey. Someday, he'd have to look into whether the man was still alive. "Ignorance is when someone is unintelligent simply because they lack the proper knowledge to make informed choices, comprehend how things work, and properly understand the potential consequences. Incompetence, on the other hand, is when they have all the information they need, but lack the common sense of how to use that knowledge."

He looked at her meaningfully. "The first can be correctable and is sometimes excusable, the other can't and isn't. I think most people would assume you to be the second one, my dear. Likely assume your whole race falls into the category." He searched her face for reaction to his words, curious to see if she was following what he was saying. What he saw was a kind of quizzical expression, not confusion, but curiosity. "If society is correct and, as a fyera and beastperson, you have a limit on your ability to completely comprehend whatever someone might teach you or, at the very least, lack the ingenuity to do anything with such learning, then I have no reason not to tell you about anything you might want to know."

His eyes narrowed, a sly smile coming to his lips. "If, however, you are merely ignorant, not incompetent, then I would be giving you tools that could be my undoing. One of the things people prize about your race is the belief that you are not capable of enough intelligence to rebel. Your larger and more dangerous 'cousins', oruhks, are treated with great care because of their physical advantages over humanfolk. A fyera may not have the same raw strength and durability, but I think your race still possesses physical advantages far beyond ours. Adding intelligence to that might be unwise, my dear."

Zinnia peered at him, mulling over his points. "Zinnia think she be grateful with Master who make her less... ignorant." She said carefully. "Protect that Master from any who assume Zinnia... in-in... incomp-a-ment." She gave him a smile no less sly than his own.

Oscar looked off towards the milling nobles around him, mind turning carefully. When he looked back at Zinnia, he made himself truly see her with fresh eyes for the first time. Made himself see her not as the dumb, loyal, pet-like creature even he had always seen her as, but as a creature of untapped potential. "I've decided, Zinnia, my dear, that I was wrong to make you into my concubine simply to offend people. I definitely should have done it because we are going to make a very good team, you and I."

Her face lit up brightly, a broad smile expanding across her lips. "Zinnia not disappoint Master. Be best concubine ever." She nuzzled a little closer to him as they walked. "Zinnia be good learner."

"I get the feeling you just might be." Oscar replied, his mind already starting to spin with new ideas.

***************

Perched on a comfortably overstuffed velvet-lined chair, sitting in it like a throne, feet propped up on Maria's back, and savoring a nice glass of high-priced Maltrian rum, Cornelius surveyed the gala and its guests with the air of a monarch overlooking his kingdom. Exceptionally well dressed and with his most beautiful pleasure slave, Delphine, knelt beside him, he felt he looked rather like a royal. He even had the equivalent of 'courtiers' coming to ask their king of audience. Plenty of people had stopped by already, the Duke among them, to pass pleasantries and gossip about peers.

Of course, no small part of the gossip, especially at a party like this, was centered around Cornelius himself. His 'covert' little agenda to convince every house to enter fighters and make Leita their primary target had already earned him quite a bit of questioning. It was funny how each person seemed to think it was some grand secret that only they were privy to, despite that everyone was talking about it. Which was, of course, the point.

He'd taken careful steps to make each interaction seem like some great conspiracy, all while making sure it was quite openly known what he was doing, especially to the administration of the arena and the betting houses. He'd learned long ago that, as long as it made for entertaining drama and didn't cost the arena anything, he was able to get away with a lot more than most Houseowners would think possible. As long as the betting offices were able to factor these things into their odds, the arena administration couldn't care less what little games he played or if he conspired to get a particular fighter killed.

And convincing most of the other Houses to make it a goal of killing that little blonde bitch had been quite easily accomplished. The base purse for the event was already quite large, five hundred crescent, with multiple sponsors adding even more to it. For weak houses with only average combatants, the large pot of winnings was usually not enough to give them delusions that they had a chance of getting their hands on it. Competing houses always put forth their best fighters to win the real prize of the Grand Melee: prestige and acclaim. The higher and longer tenured houses had combatants that were more than enough deterrent to lead lower houses to forgo even trying.

So, Cornelius had offered them a chance to get their hands on the money, at least, by achieving something much easier and smaller. Just kill one, particular, gladiator during the event and an amount equal to that base purse was all theirs. A gladiator that most still saw as being mostly a newcomer and unlikely to have the same level of skill as other combatants from the higher Houses.

A few had officially turned down the offer, citing not wanting to get involved, but they'd still chosen to register fighters. Some likely doing so just in case their people did happen to find themselves in a position to take a shot and others because he'd offered a further incentive just to have them enter. While the little bitch would already be aware that he was convincing other houses to make a play directly for her, she wouldn't know which ones were and were not specifically intending to try and kill her. So, the more possible enemies she saw, the more stress and uncertainty she would have over who to put more focus on. She would be effectively trying to directly defend against almost three dozen other gladiators, whether she needed to or not.

Of course, Cornelius didn't really expect any of them to be the one who killed her. It was his intention for that honor to fall to his own man. Casartes would wait for all the lesser fighters to wear Kalder down, as he would likely be the one bearing most of the burden of protecting Sabrina's prized little girl, then step in to make the kill. Then it wouldn't matter what he'd promised to the other houses for her life.

He fully expected that Solivier would also have his own fighters helping as well, since he seemed to have his own interests in the girl. Just to make sure, he'd quite purposefully chosen his opening barrage with the fortunate opportunity of Myrinus having been placed into Donovan's stable. He actually wanted House Warforger's fighters in the middle of the fight to protect Leita. Kalder, Luthor, and Dalgo were three most powerful fighters registered, not counting his own two men. With all three of them becoming the primary focus of almost everyone at once, they were sure to be weakened enough for Casartes and Semadar to sweep in, still fresh from their far lighter, remaining, competition, to defeat all of them and secure House Victorious victory. Both in the Grand Melee and over that lucky little bitch.

If someone did manage to kill Leita first, then so be it. At this point, he would gladly make good on his offer, but he fully expected to both keep his money and win the Grand Melee. It would be a neat little package all wrapped up in a pretty bow.

As he watched, he saw many of his 'peers' meandering about, looking quite ecstatic to be at the gala. Two of the newer owners of houses, Lords Bannon and Forrester, were standing together and looking almost like fish out of water among the other aristocracy. Both of them were previously men from small backwater areas who had managed to accumulate just enough wealth to try their hands at running gladiatorial houses. Neither were fairing all that well, nor were their houses, unimaginatively named 'House Bannon' and 'House Forrester' respectively, much spoken of by anyone.

Both men had leapt at the offer he'd brought them, quite foolish enough to think their people had even remotely a chance of succeeding. Kalder would likely cripple anyone they submitted before they even reached their target. If he was right and Donovan's men were helping, he doubted either House would last long enough to even be remembered as having been there.

In the end, it would be the fighters from Houses like Gravemaker, Ironsun, Steeldawn, and Stormgate that would bring the real fire. All four had shown considerable interest in the offer and quite likely intended to make a play for the little bonus. Houses Greyaxe and Killingmoon had both openly accepted the terms, though Cornelius didn't expect either of them to really have anyone that carried the same threat as the previous four. However, their people were still good enough to make things far more difficult for the defenders with all of them coming at once.

Even Tylone Blackbryar had leapt at the offer, though some of that may have been his limp attempt at rebalancing their books between one another. He'd only barely managed to scrap beneath notice of any investigations regarding the attack on Sabrina and Verdant. Ever since, he'd been almost cloyingly cordial in his dealings with House Victorious, likely hoping to mitigate whatever 'favor' would someday be expected of him. Cornelius had, of course, made sure it was clear that this offer was not that favor.

House Blackorchid had some decent fighters, but he still included Tylone's house in with the likes of the lower houses, as far as chances of actually succeeding at either killing Leita or winning the event. His people would certainly provide far more challenge to her defenders though and that was the important thing.

Houses Armipotent, Maelstrom, Pryde, and Thunder had all politely dismissed the offer, though he wagered they might still consider keeping themselves partially open to any opportunities that might present themselves. Even if they didn't, the fighters of all but Thunder were of such low talent that they would make little challenge for House Victorious' honed champions. It would give his people something to do while the rest of the pack ground his real threats into the sand.

He'd, of course, not even bothered to broach the subject to Crahka. However, he also wagered that Verdant wouldn't put his people into the views of the oncoming killers either. For all his idealism, he was smart enough to realize that he stood more to lose by getting himself too involved in this. Someone else he'd opted to forgo bringing the offer to had been Bellock. The recent encounter with him and his disgusting beastgirl had left too much of a foul taste in his mouth. House Bloodwalker had some very good warriors, better than most others, but he could see the rebellious owner more focusing himself on getting in the way, just to spite Cornelius.

As he thought on the man and his 'concubine', he once again caught sight of the two of them mingling through the hall together. He'd absurdly dressed her up not as the sex toy she was barely qualified to be, but as some kind of proper lady. A full gown and tasteful accoutrement, as if she were people. It made him laugh. It would be the scandal of the night, he was sure, and would simply bury the man socially before the night was over.

However, his attention was caught by the man who approached Oscar. Baron Wessincott. He considered the tedious nobleman a moment, enjoying Bellock's own disgust of him. For all his dislike of Oscar, Cornelius detested Wessincott even more. However, the man could have his uses...

When Wessincott became too offended by the crass Bellock and turned to walk away from him, Cornelius rose from his chair, gesturing towards Maria. "Up Stool. Dust yourself off so you look presentable." While she did so, he gave Delphine a quick look over, to make sure she seemed at least equal to the one that the Baron had on his arm.

Straightening his own coats, he deftly wove his way through the guests, snatching up a fresh glass of wine as he went. Just before reaching the Baron, he slowed and adopted a more casual manner. He didn't want it to seem that he had intentionally made his way to the man, but more to frame it as just candidly running into him. Wessincott's own attentions were usually quite firmly taken up with the end of his own nose, so Cornelius felt confident that the Baron wouldn't have noticed that he'd been sitting elsewhere only moments before.

"Ah, Tophias!" He said in a tone of pleasant surprise when he slipped up the last couple steps to the man. "Good to see you. Quite the turn out this year for the Duke's little soiree."

Wessincott brightened, putting on his best social face. Cornelius knew that the Baron disliked him just as much as he did the Baron, but both of them understood how the game was played. "Yes, yes indeed, Lord Venge." He replied diplomatically. "Though I can't say I am altogether happy about some of those who have arrived." He glanced in the direction that Bellock had gone.

"There are always a few 'questionable' invites on the guest list." Cornelius chuckled. "I'm sure that the Duke sometimes adds a few controversial people to the mix, just for the joy of stirring the pot."

The Baron returned the chuckle, nodding his head vaguely in agreement. "Yes, quite. Now that you mention it, there usually is a few people that are obviously here just to draw talk. I suppose that is what ensures a party gets talked about, those little targets of juicy gossip." He scanned out at the various guests almost languidly, his words half patter.

"And the Duke does like to make sure his parties aren't easily forgotten." Cornelius replied back. "Though I think this one might prove far more memorable that any other." He took a tactical sip of his wine, giving the Baron time to process those words and his interest to pique.

"Oh? What makes you say that?" He asked after a beat, his attention narrowing onto Cornelius.

"Have you not heard, Baron?" Cornelius asked, feigning surprise and drawing it out a little deliciously. "I would have assumed you'd be more aware of it than most. Given your love of the arena and expertise with it."

Wessincott's expression grew suspicious, obviously uncertain if he was being mocked or not. "I fear I am not sure what you are referring to, Lord Venge."

Cornelius took another calculated drink of his wine, adding more suspense to the moment, his eyes set firmly on the Baron with an almost gleeful glint, before leaning in close, as if sharing something secret. "I have orchestrated things to make sure that every house has submitted fighters for this year's Grand Melee. What is more, I am offering a special reward, from my own pocket, to any house who can deal a fatal blow to House Firebridge's gladiator, Leita. All done with the knowledge of the arena administration and with their acceptance, naturally."

Wessincott deflated a little in disappointment. "Oh, yes. Pedantic nonsense if you ask me. Aside from just causing more rabble to find themselves with an invitation, what is so remarkable about that, Lord Venge? There have certainly been more shocking things in the past. Lord Bellock's ridiculous new concubine is more notable a scandal than that."

Cornelius smiled. "Ah, but I am offering it to anyone who decides to submit fighters. You were aware that the Grand Arena allows independent slave owners to submit fighters to events such as this as an attempt to jump-start a new House, weren't you?" He took a fresh, overlong, sip of his drink to give the Baron a moment to digest that. "Given the rising reputation of Lady Marlowe's 'little blonde wonder', my reward for her death in the Melee is being heralded as on 'unofficial secondary goal' that many feel would serve as a noticeable accolade to any owner, already established House or independent seeking to form one, who managed it."

Wessincott peered more intently at him, his mind working on chewing through what it was Cornelius was saying. "What are you getting at, Venge?"

"I'm just pointing out that, for the right opportunist, this might be a very excellent way of establishing themselves as a new House Owner." Cornelius leaned subtly even more forward. "You've been dabbling for years in the arena, working with all sorts of Houses, why not open your own? I'll even sell you two of my own stable, at a reasonable price, to submit into the Grand Melee. The registration doesn't end until tomorrow morning. You could submit them as an independent owner and, if your gladiators managed to either kill the blonde or, who knows, win the whole event...?"

Wessincott eyed him curiously. "You're suggesting that I create a new House?"

"And announce your intention to do so right here at the Gala, making it a very memorable one." Cornelius grinned broadly. "We can settle out a deal for two of my fighters, right here, make it official tomorrow. They would already be trained and ready, so you wouldn't even need to have a physical House yet. With every single House owner likely here tonight, once you've made the announcement, you could even negotiate to purchase a few others to begin building a proper stable. The lower Houses, which you are always so gracious to grant support, would likely be more than happy to work with you and sell you some of theirs."

If it meant that the Baron would stop trying to meddle in their own businesses, it was probably true. Some might even sell to him just for the joy of seeing the pretentious man fall flat on his face, given that he didn't know even a tenth as much about the gladiator game than he thought he did.

He could see the gears turning in Wessincott's head, turning this idea over and over. "I have always fancied to own my own gladiatorial house..." His jaw worked a little. "However, as a Baron, I would not likely have the proper time to devote to running one. That has always been the reason I've not before."

Cornelius chuckled. "Has it never occurred to you that 'owning' a House and 'running' that House are two very different things. All you'd need do is appoint someone to serve as a daily manager, but you would still be credited as the owner of the House itself. Lord Selbruster of House Ironsun has an assistant who handles all the daily work and administration. You'd only need to generally oversee the broader strokes."

Wessincott straightened. "That... is not a bad point."

"I might even have someone I could recommend to you." Cornelius added cunningly. "I just so happen to know someone who might be willing to accept the position. They would simply take a very small percentage of profits for their service as your House-manager, but defer all the acclaim and acknowledgement of any successes to you. If the House were to fail, they would accept the responsibility for it, saving you any loss of face as an expert on gladiatorial matters."

The Baron's expression told Cornelius that he was about to have a very wonderfully nasty surprise for Leita and her possible protectors. Not just two more fighters for them to worry about, but two more that Cornelius himself would have direct influence over. It would add more pressure and increase the likelihood of her dying. It would also help him further cement a win for his House. The two he would sell Wessincott wouldn't need to be told anything, but would know to ensure that they lost, in the end, to House Victorious.

In effect, it would be like him having four people on the sands. On top of that, regardless of how the event concluded, if Wessincott accepted his recommendation of 'manager', it would allow him to have full influence over a second House. That would come very much in handy. For a great many reasons.

"You make a very appealing offer, Lord Venge." Baron Wessincott finally said. "I think it might just be time to make 'House Ravenblade' a reality."

"You've already a name?" Cornelius laughed. "Good! Shall we quickly sort out an agreeable price for two of my fighters and make the announcement?"