Slave Unbound Ch. 46

Chapter 46

Visitations

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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.

Steeping out of his carriage, Verdant looked up at the façade before him. A quaintly squat two-story edifice for the main manor with a single wing to the right-hand side and a high hedge wall fencing in a grand, if terribly overgrown, stretch of gardens on the left-hand side. The front lawns were plain, but well sculpted, mostly taken up by the carriageway and approach from the front gates, which were themselves in need of some repair.

A small army of people were hard at work refurbishing the old estate-house that had passed through at least three other owners that Verdant knew of. Each previous owner had been a gladiatorial House that had come and gone during the relatively brief time that Verdant himself had been operating his own House. However, he knew that it had seen far more occupants over the decades since it was first erected.

Being one of the smaller properties of the district, it was usually chosen by newcomers whose starting capital for a new establishment wasn't especially large. However, due to that same reason, the estate rarely remained occupied for more than a few seasons at a time, sometimes sitting untouched for years until the next hopeful came along.

As an actual Baron, Tophias Wessincott likely could have afforded something far, far greater in size and majesty, but had opted to expand the cheap estate to something suitable for use as the new 'House Ravenblade'. Of course, he'd already announced that he had no intentions to either live here or spend most of his time and focus on it. It would be regularly managed by a proxy agent who would live here, allowing him to dabble with it only when he felt like it. Ironically, the man had pestered nearly every other HouseMaster of the arena with his opinions on gladiators and bloodsport, but apparently couldn't be bothered to really dedicate himself to it when given the chance to actually prove himself to be the authority on all things 'arena' that he'd always claimed.

It was common knowledge that the man's decision had been heavily influenced by Cornelius Venge, who had managed to use the situation to effectively enter two additional House Victorious fighters into the Grand Melee a few days previously. While House Ravenblade might, officially, be owned by Wessincott, everyone realized it was, in reality, Venge's 'other House'. Not only had he provided the original pair of fighters from his own stable, he'd also provided the proxy manager as well.

Of those two initial gladiators, only one of them had returned alive from the sands, leaving House Ravenblade with just a single gladiator in its stable now. Thus, the House was now courting other owners in hopes of purchasing some of their seasoned fighters. Already, the coaches for Houses Greyaxe, Killingmoon, and Steeldawn were parked in the carraigeway, the footmen and drivers tending to them while their employers were within the manor being plied with refreshments and offers for their gladiators.

Verdant had received an official invitation to come as well, which had been a bit of a surprise. Still, his stable did have several capable fighters and Wessincott had previously acknowledged that fact. Most likely, he believed that he could negotiate for one of Verdant's better combatants. Of course, he had no intentions to sell any of his people. He knew too well that the Baron saw slaves as little more than chattel and beasts of burden to be used up and expended. He would never consent to granting one freedom for any reason.

House Whitebanner allowed any who fought for it to earn the chance to become free, unless such things were not allowed them by higher law, due to blood of race. Even then, he granted those who could not be legally freed ways to benefit from honorable combat and loyal service. Though it typically meant that his best fighters took their leave at the height of their careers, having earned freedom from him, it also meant that those who were still in his stable fought hard and well, knowing they had something worth fighting for. And some had opted to remain in one capacity or another, such as Ashton. For all the critique he got for treating his slaves as people, instead of just possessions, the respect he'd received from the men and women who had passed through his doors made it all worthwhile.

The only times he ever entertained the sale of one of his gladiators was if they proved themselves to be dishonorable or refused to align with the moral code he insisted upon. Those dissidents he considered to be rightfully in their place as slaves and he was more than willing to treat them as such, selling them to Houses that were better suited for dealing with them. At the moment, however, none in his stable fell into that column.

As it was, the Grand Melee represented the last fight of his current champion, Wallman. He had already been granted his official freedom and planned to set out into his new life as soon as he'd finished healing from the event. Sonya, the other fighter he'd entered, had come very close to dying herself, spared only by the quick action of one of the other competitors, who'd helped her staunch a wound that should have been her death. Assuming that the injury she took didn't impact her fighting abilities, she was next in line to take Wallman's place as the House Champion, meaning she would likely soon earn her own freedom within another couple seasons.

They were, most likely, the ones that Wessincott was actually interested in, as they represented his best at the moment. Even if the offer was for one of his other fighters, he didn't intend to accept, regardless what he was offered for them. In truth, he had only accepted the invitation he'd been sent for two reasons.

Firstly, even if he found the Baron to be a distasteful and grating person, it was good form to be social and try to build good diplomatic relationships with a new HouseMaster. Beyond that, Verdant wanted to meet this proxy who would actually be running the business and get a gauge of him. There was little doubt that his true loyalty would be to Lord Venge, not Baron Wessincott, but that didn't mean he would not have his own mind about some things. Verdant wanted to get an idea of what he would be dealing with when he dealt with this new House.

Secondly, he wanted to see what fighters they had managed to buy away from other Houses and who they had their eyes on. It would tell him a lot about his new rival in the arena. Both for how they planned to groom their stable and how much influence Wessincott, Venge, and this proxy would be able to exhort on other Houses to get the stable they wanted. As it was, the three Houseowners already preceding him all had some very strong fighters, but also were all well known for having very aggressive and brutal fighters.

"Wasn't this previously House Legendary?" Ashton asked from behind him, the lanky bodyguard eyeing the front of the edifice sharply. "Looks like he's already made some pretty hefty changes, but I think I remember it from when we came to bid Lord Santorum well on his exit."

Verdant nodded. "The very same, though Garrick had barely a chance to put his real imprint on the place, he was here so briefly. A shame really. I had quite liked his personality and energy. I had hopes that House Legendary might have become an ally to House Whitebanner." He blew out a long sigh. "Regardless, it looks like Baron Wessincott wishes to make sure it is known he does not plan to leave anytime soon."

The property had seen wear over the years, new owners usually having to spend most of their starting budgets just making the most essential repairs, rarely able to truly make sweeping changes to it as a way of expressing their own sensibilities and personalities. The Baron, however, had more than enough wealth to not just bring it back up to full restoration, but definitively leave his mark upon it with significant changes and expansion.

"I would think, with Lord Venge backing it and supporting it, House Ravenblade will prosper, Master." Lanni ventured, considering the carriages in the side lot more than the manorhouse. "If the Baron is able to convince several of the others to sell their seasoned fighters, his stable will be instantly formidable and prosperous."

Verdant nodded agreement. "Most Houses fail because it takes time for new fighters to become popular and marketable. Bringing in already well-known gladiators pretty much ensures that House Ravenblade will last for a while and is a shrewd move. Most people are less worried about what House owns a given fighter than the gladiator themself."

"My thoughts exactly." Came a voice from ahead of them, drawing all their attention to a primly dressed woman approaching them. Beautiful and poised, she seemed to radiate a considerable confidence that instantly made Verdant realize she must be more than just some random servant. "House Ravenblade has no desire to be a flash in the pan, Lord Crahka. The gladiators will always be the true shining stars and the House that owns them merely a moon reflecting their glory."

Verdant gave her a polite bow. "I assume you are an administrative assistant to the Baron or his proxy. Come to collect me and take me to the reception?"

The woman smiled wryly. "And here I was told you were a more progressive-minded man, Lord Crahka. I am Lady Katerina Vil'Maufort, acting HouseMistress of House Ravenblade. I AM the Baron's proxy."

Verdant's mouth dropped open in surprise. Not just at having put his foot in it a moment before with his assumption, but at the utter shock that the Baron, a first-class chauvinist, had agreed to let a woman run his House for him. "My sincerest apologies, my Lady." He quickly said, trying to recover his poise. "I assure you my assumptions were quite firmly rooted in what I know of your employer only."

Vil'Maufort gave a soft laugh. "To that point, I suppose I should grant you forgiveness, Lord Crahka. Barely an hour has passed since my appointment that he has not raised an objection to me. If not for Lord Venge, I'm sure I would have already been dismissed from the position."

In all honesty, it only made it even more mystifying that Cornelious was who had chosen her for the job. His own opinions of women were not any better than the Baron's. He very rarely even kept female gladiators, much less would have considered a woman worthy of managing them. It was a well-known part of why he so strongly opposed Sabrina Marlowe.

And yet, here was a woman that he had not only put into, essentially, the same position as Marlowe, but had fought to keep her there against the Baron's desires. Something about it didn't seem to add up. Possibly, it was because he felt he could maintain control over a woman, but something about the aura of strength and confidence the woman exuded suggested that was not fully the case.

"Well, allow me to extend a sincere welcome to the Grand Arena, Lady Vil'Maufort." He said with a fresh, far deeper and more sweeping, bow. "I am delighted to see another HouseMistress in the Grand Arena. I'm sure Lady Marlowe will appreciate no longer being the only one."

The mention of House Firebridge's owner brought a rather strange expression to the woman's face, but it was gone in a moment, replaced with a very diplomatic expression. "I am familiar with her and tribulations she has endured here. I can only hope I can manage to avoid the same pitfalls she fell into. For now, however, it is you who I am wishing to make a proper meeting of, Lord Crahka."

"Of course." Verdant replied with a smile. "I appreciate you coming out to meet me in person. I assume the others are waiting on us?"

Vil'Maufort's smile was playfully inscrutable. "And there you go making assumptions again, Lord Crahka. As it turns out, they are not. The Baron is already meeting with them in his offices to discuss business and attempt to coax them into selling some of their stock. However, I doubt you have any interest in hearing whatever he might have to say on those fronts." She gestured for him to begin walking with her as she started not towards the entrance to the manor, but to the side gate leading into the overgrown gardens.

"If I am honest, no, I do not have plans to sell any of my stable to the House. Nor really to conduct any sort of business with someone like the Baron." Verdant admitted, falling into step with her, Lanni and Ashton following in their wake. "I suppose you already understand why."

"Your reputation is very well known to me, Lord Crahka." She agreed with a nod. "Both the negative and the positive. While most here write you off as a naïve idealist, I see you as a man of principle and moral philosophy. Your gladiators are far stronger than most give you credit. And I imagine that is because you give them something worth fighting for. For all the criticism it may bring you, it is actually a very laudable concept. In fact, I wished to adopt some of it myself, but the idea was rejected entirely by Wessincott. In the end, I have to carefully choose my battles with him and that is one that I am unlikely to win."

Verdant peered at her as they began strolling amid the untended bushes and hedge-work, a bit taken aback. "It is not often I hear others here praising how I conduct my House. In fact, I think you may well be the first. It is refreshing to know that there is someone else here that sees things from the same moral perspective as myself."

Vil'Maufort once again flashed her enigmatic smile. "Do not be too quick to confuse it with moral agreement, Lord Crahka. I merely can see the benefits of it as a form of motivation. While you ply it out of empathy with those you enslave, I considered it only as a tool to coax out greater efforts from fighters. You set goals that are easily attained by your fighters, meaning you typically lose your best money-makers just as they become the most popular. I would not be so quick to release profitable gladiators."

Verdant eyed her curiously. "I see. Well, I suppose there are still ways to compromise the practice. Simply granting limited liberties to those who earn them could bring much the same effect, I suppose. If not quite as significant a one." He glanced back at Ashton. "I've found that nothing makes someone more willing to give everything than the chance to be free."

Vil'Maufort looked back towards Ashton as well. "And can also earn loyalty from those you grant liberty, I would expect." Her gaze returned to Verdant, considering him a moment as they walked. "I am not unable to see the benefits of your philosophy, even if I am not as idealistic as you. Do not mistake me, unlike your other peers, I do not count your moralism as a weakness. I am simply not someone who feels the same degree of empathy with the enslaved."

"However, I assume the Baron does not share that same perspective." Verdant said with a slow nod. "Nor, I imagine, your real employer." He shot her a sly look, curious to see how she would react.

The smile returned again to her lips, her eyes just as sly. "Lord Venge also does not share that view, you are correct. Also, it is correct that he is the real hand that controls this House, not Wessincott. I doubt anyone really believes different, so there is little reason to deny it. Most likely, only the Baron, in all his arrogance and stupidity, doesn't realize that he is just a pawn in a greater game placed by his 'benefactor'."

Verdant paused a moment, using an excuse of examining a flowering bush to give him time to think. "Are you a pawn of Venge's as well?" He asked finally, picking a blossom and offering it to her.

Vil'Maufort didn't immediately answer. She accepted the flower and took the time to inhale its scent as she considered her response to the question. "I am far more than a pawn, Lord Crahka, but I am still a piece on his board, yes. However, I am also a piece who knows how to play her own games. I recognize that you see him as not just a common rival of the arena, but a true mortal enemy. While my own opinions of him are far from adoring, he has given me a chance to become someone of considerable power and influence here. I do not intend to squander it."

All of a sudden, a strange chill began working its way through Verdant. He began looking around at the overgrowth of the untended gardens around them. They'd been walking deeper and deeper, far away from all eyes. For the first time, he considered that this woman was an agent of Cornelius' and unlikely to be any ally of himself. He felt his breath catch as a breeze rustled the hedges around them.

"I have walked right into your trap, haven't I?" He asked softly. At the words, Ashton suddenly dropped into a ready stance, his weapons drawn.

Vil'Maufort laughed, turned to the bodyguard and patted the air. "Be at ease. You and your Master." She looked to Verdant. "There are no assassins waiting just out of sight, I promise. It would be foolish to openly invite you here and kill you on the grounds. House Ravenblade would be over before it began. I promise you, Lord Crahka, you will leave here unharmed."

Verdant stared at her, uncertain, but sensing no deception in her words. "Then why have you lured me to this remote corner of the estate? You've already effectively stated that you don't intend to ask me to sell you any of my stable and obviously grasp my relationship with Venge well enough to know I would not willingly align myself with any interest of his."

That mysterious smile returned once more. "Not willingly, no." She replied, the smile turning into something serpentine. "But we all find ourselves sometimes doing things against our wills, Lord Crahka. I gave my word that you will leave unharmed, but certainly not unthreatened. You were invited here today for this meeting, not because you were ever going to be extended any sort of offer. There is no one in your stable that we are looking to procure."

She moved over to a low stone bench nearby, smoothed her skirts and sat down. "Over the last couple of months, you have been putting a lot of your energies into trying to confront and hinder Lord Venge. You've raised complaints and hurled accusations about him trying to kill you and commit various infractions. He has come to find your and Marlowe's antics and attempts to counter him tiresome. You are here because I am extending you a warning. Continue to get in our way and we will destroy you. As it is, House Firebridge will be gone by the time the sun sets. If you don't want your own House to follow it into oblivion, I strongly suggest you return home and stay clear of any future conspiracies against Lord Cornelius Venge or EITHER of his Houses."

Verdant felt his chest tighten. He drifted onto one of the other benches. "What do you mean that House Firebridge will be gone?" He breathed. "What has Cornelius done?"

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

"Do keep up, Darsa, you are slowing me down."

Sabrina gave a long sigh, the girl once again falling out of step with her as they were walking through the hallways of the estate. It was mostly due to her constantly pausing to make some little notation or annotation in the ledger she was carrying and reading out for her Mistress. "You need to learn to write and walk at the same time."

"Sorry, Mistress." Darsa quickly said, rushing to get back into pace with her owner, which nearly caused her to crash into a pillar in the hallway. She let out a little squeak as she narrowly avoided smacking face first into it.

"And still clumsy as ever, Darsa." Sabrina sighed again, but didn't bother to hide her general amusement. "Flick your eyes as you go."

"F-flick my eyes, Mistress?"

"Every few moments, glance up and then back down." Sabrina explained stopping to turn and demonstrate. "So that you can keep track of where you are going. And how far behind me you are lagging." She cocked an eyebrow at her meaningfully at the last little bit.

"Yes, Mistress." Darsa fidgeted back. "S-sorry, Mistress."

"Just keep up dear and try not break your nose walking into something." Sabrina said, turning around and continuing forward again. "Where you left off, please."

Darsa lurched back into motion behind her and lifted the ledger up to find her place. To her credit, she managed to do so within just a moment and smoothly return to what she'd been reporting.

"Ernisto Holcolm is requesting an arrangement to produce a series of pots with Kalder's likeness etched into them. He thinks that the image of him would lend a sense of sturdiness to them." She read off. "He is proposing a deal of ten percent of all profit on their sale for the rights to his image."

"Did he include his estimate of how much he intends to sell them for?" Sabrina asked.

Darsa scanned the page for a second before replying. "He did not, Mistress. Though, my family did have a couple of his pots. I believe their price was rather steep, especially considering they were not all that high of quality. The set bore the image of Juliander, the old champion of House Silverlion."

Sabrina chuckled. "Considering neither the fighter nor the House exists anymore, those are probably worth even more now as collector items. Still, you say the pots are not very good quality?"

"One of them deformed within the first few weeks of use and the other always left a strange taste to anything that was cooked in it." Darsa replied.

"So, he wants to put Kalder's face on a cheap pot, just so he can sell it for more than its worth." Sabrina rolled her eyes. "If they are that poor of quality, I imagine his previous ones rarely sold."

"Actually, Mistress, his pots tend to be in high demand among the more affluent society. While they may be poor use as pots, his engravers are highly skilled. Most consider them, like you just suggested, as items for collecting and displaying." Darsa frowned sourly. "I suppose the fact that my family used ours for actual cooking helps explain how they reached a place where I had to be sold for debts."

Sabrina stopped and turned to look at the girl. During the previous few weeks, Darsa had proven to be a very handy addition to House. Between her ability to read and write, general skill with mathematics, and a good memory for details and information, she had surprised Sabrina quite a lot. Somewhere along the way, she'd effectively become a very diligent assistant and messenger. It was obvious the girl was still utterly terrified of her Mistress, which wasn't a bad thing, but she'd managed to earn herself a lot more latitude than she likely realized.

"Answer me honestly, Darsa." Sabrina tried to put as passive an expression as she could muster on her face. "I give you my promise that I won't punish you for whatever answer you give, so long as it is honest. What do you think of me, as your owner?"

Darsa's own expression showed considerable alarm at the question, obviously worried this was some kind of trap. However, she took a deep breath and chewed on her answer for a bit, wanting to make sure she explained her feelings clearly. "I think Mistress is a very... t-terrifying person. Often unpredictable. But... I-I don't think Mistress is... h-horrible..."

Sabrina reached out to swipe a stray lock of the girl's hair away from her eyes. "You have been serving me very well, Darsa." She said softly. "You have your little annoyances still, but I have been very impressed with you. Overall."

Darsa blinked at her in surprise. "T-thank you, Mistress. I have been... t-trying my b-best."

"I'm still considering the benefits of beating that stutter out of you though." Sabrina sneered, rolling her eyes as the unrelenting stammer the girl picked up when she got nervous. However, when she looked back at the slavegirl, her eyes were not hard. "However, my dear, you've grown on me. I've been quite pleased with your service."

Darsa stared at her, surprised not only by being told that she'd been doing well, but that her owner was so openly praising her. After a beat, she gave an unsteady nod. "Thank you, Mistress, I... I am glad you are p-pleased."

Sabrina stroked another lock of hair out of the girl's face, considering her thoughtfully. "I've always looked down on Verdant for his own little puppy that follows him around, but I'm starting to see the appeal. I suppose he's begun to rub off on me a little. Maybe it isn't such a ridiculous notion to be a bit more... compassionate with one's property."

Darsa got a somewhat nervous look in her expression, seeming all the more worried that this was leading up to some kind of slap or trap. However, she had grown wise enough not to say anything and just wait.

Sabrina sighed and shook her head at herself. "Gods, I really am getting too soft. I blame Leita for this, really. I used to be so proud of how malevolent and ruthless I was. And now I'm soft as a pudding."

"I wouldn't think of Mistress as 'soft' in any way." Darsa replied without seeming to think about the words first. She immediately flinched and looked stricken.

"Why thank you, Darsa." Sabrina replied cheerily. "I appreciate that. It really has been an odd time for me these last months. I was worried I was losing my touch."

Darsa puffed out her cheeks a moment, then gave a shaky smile. "You are still as s-scary as the day I first met you, Mistress, if that brings you comfort?" She tried to make the smile look reassuring, but it came out a strained grimace.

Sabrina grinned in amusement at that. "Do you like it here? Despite my being scary and 'unpredictable'? Have you actually enjoyed playing my little assistant? Or are you hoping I soon grow bored of you and shuffle you into some corner of the House where you don't have regular contact with me?"

She tapped her on the nose. "And give me your honest answer, dear. Consider this your reward for doing well. If there is a different place here that you would rather be, I will have them put you there. I give my word. No traps or tricks. This is your chance to get away from the scary lady."

Darsa chewed on her lower lip in thought for a second, seeming to really be pondering her actual feelings on the matter. "I... like the challenge...?" She finally answered timidly, cringing a little, as if realizing that she might well be making a mistake. "If Mistress is pleased with my work, then I would be like to continue to... be her puppy?"

Sabrina smiled and turned to resume walking again. "For that response, I'll arrange for you to have a personal room all for yourself. As well as a nicer and more comfortable collar, darling."

"T-thank you, Mistress." Darsa breathed, sounding genuinely grateful.

"Don't thank me yet, dear." Sabrina raised a finger over her shoulder to the girl. "You're also going to gain a lot of new duties and responsibilities. You may soon wish you had asked to be made a dishwasher in the kitchens."

"Yes, Mistress." Darsa replied, but there was no mistaking the joy in her voice. "T-that is, I doubt I will, M-mistress."

Sabrina sighed. "We really need to work on that stammer, darling."

Darsa paused a moment before replying. "Y-y-yes, Mistress." This time, the stutter quite obviously intentional.

It genuinely made Sabrina laugh. The girl was definitely growing on her and growing more comfortable with her, whether that meant she was getting soft or not. In the end, perhaps a little bit of softness wasn't such a terrible thing. She felt sure Verdant would give her a rather smug look when he realized she was starting to treat her slaves more like he did his own, but she wasn't sure she cared. For all the slings and arrows the man took on a daily basis for his philosophies and idealism, it had honestly made his House stronger for it, whether anyone wanted to admit that or not.

"So, given your experiences with Holcolm's 'collectable pots', do you think I should accept his offer?" Sabrina asked as they got back into business.

Darsa considered her own opinion a moment before replying. "I think an endorsement from him would be profitable, but I'm a little dubious about his intent to make a comparison between Kalder and his cookware's own durability. It might seem more like an insult to your champion, Mistress."

Sabrina chuckled. "Not a bad point, Darsa." She gave a shrug as they turned the corner and began approaching the door to her personal quarters up the hall. "Perhaps we can negotiate with him to market them more as the useless knick-knacks they are meant to be."

"Mistress." Darsa's voice came low in volume and her tone had changed very suddenly.

"I see it." Sabrina replied smoothly back, her own tone and expression still light and untroubled. "I think I'm done with you for now, dear. You're dismissed to go see--"

"Please continue into your office, Lady Marlowe." Came a voice from behind them. "Both of you, please."

Sabrina sighed before turning to see a third unfamiliar guardsman behind them. Like the two unknown men outside her office door, he wasn't wearing the House regalia or any other heraldry that told her who it was that was now waiting on her inside. Not that she really needed any clues. Cornelius had obviously decided to pay her a visit to rehash their previous meeting.

Straightening herself up proudly, she allowed the man to escort here and Darsa down the hall. The slavegirl looked scared, uncertain what was going on. Reaching down, she took Darsa's hand and gave it a squeeze. "He is not likely to do anything to you, my dear. I imagine he is just here to make threats and intimidate me. As long as you remain silent, he won't even notice you."

If the words or gesture truly comforted the girl, it did not show in her expression, but her hand tightened around Sabrina's, quivering. She hoped that what she said would prove true and Venge wouldn't consider her worth even noticing and his men were just bringing her along to ensure that she couldn't run off to alert anyone.

However, as they entered through the door into her chambers, Sabrina felt her body run cold and realized that she could no longer be fully sure what was about to happen. It wasn't Cornelius Venge who stood by the hearth, waiting impatiently. It was the Baroness Farrah Wilholme. And she did not look happy.

"I already have your people bringing up the slavegirl you led me to believe you'd destroyed for me." The Baroness said in a flat and accusatory tone. "You should make yourself a drink, dear. You're going to need it."