The woman looked at Samira distastefully, but otherwise didn't say anything. She didn't want to risk someone hearing her bad mouth the noble's mistress. She didn't want to get punished for a little jealousy. She reluctantly bowed to her just in case, and walked out. Samira had never been directly bowed to, and didn't know what she could have done. She was now of a higher status than all the servants and generals, other than General Blackwell, the Lady Beatrix, and Lord Thetas. If he married her, none in the castle could question her, except him, but that would never happen.
The best that would happen to her would be to become a mistress with no real rank or title, but none would bother her due to her connection with the Lord. This was probably the best outcome a former peasant girl could dream of; to bed a powerful man that could dote on her, but she didn't think about this. She was worried about how permanent this situation would be. She knew if he was done with her, he wouldn't let her go back to a life of servitude. She didn't know how he felt of her, other than his infatuation with her body. But slowly, those thoughts melted away under his gentle caressing. She caught herself mindlessly stroking his arm. His body was cool to her touch, but something about him heated her to her core. She had never laid with a man, and it would be none other than a very large man to take her when he was ready.
She got little sleep thinking about his grip on her waist, pulling her to him, giving the most skin to skin contact possible. If she was his mistress … what about all the things that he would do to her? She had never seen a male appendage, but she had heard enough from the gossip of her friends before she was sold; that if a man knew what he was doing and wasn't selfish, that she would have the time of her life. Was he selfish? Would he give her a good time when the time was right? She didn't know, she was only filled with blushes.
She felt a hefty hardness pressing against her lower back, along with a yawn. "I can smell you. What are you thinking, little dove?" He chuckled sleepily. She had no words, but he responded with a smirk in his voice she could hear. "Sleep." He commanded drowsily, going back to sleep. Lord Thetas had little control, and almost took her when he awoke to the smell of her arousal, filling his nostrils. He silently cursed himself for being able to do such a thing.
The master woke before his slave and already intended on leaving her in his chambers today. He needed to get some things done that he had put off, or was too troubled to do. One of which was to meet with his guards and go into the nearby town. There had been a rebel attack, but with them being this close to the castle, it was probably copycats. There was no way rebels could get this close to the castle, to the town he lorded over nearly directly, and made trouble. He bathed, and got into his black attire, along with a long black cloak. He would strike fear into them, and would do so without armor or chainmail. He wrote a note for Samira, and left out his wing.
He took no breakfast, as it was going to be a 2 hour ride, and he didn't want anyone to have to take too many stops along the way. He was to put the captured rebels in the dirt, or get answers from them. The aura he held today was completely different from yesterday. To everyone he passed, he felt dominant, angered, and betrayed. They caught him off guard, and now their heads would roll, or he would bleed them dry.
Captain Eugene, General Blackwell, and two other older generals met at the gates, already on their horses. Metus was already saddled, and pawing the thin layer of fresh snow and frozen earth. He looked bored, but otherwise was content. He was taller than the next biggest stallion by at least a head, and it only added to the imposing nature of the noble Lord that he was also a bit taller than his counterparts.
They rode in near silence, unless they had something important to mention, but there wasn't much, until a messenger ride beside them in a white cloak and pulled a scroll out his saddlebag. He handed it to General Blackwell before galloping off.
"My Lord, this report states that the Lord of the West will send to you his youngest daughter, Lady Hailey, as a gift." Said General Blackwell. This had actually been his doing, as at the time he didn't know the Lord had already picked someone. At this point, the antsy generals wouldn't mind a slave, as they needed him to produce an heir. He was already 31, and it was unheard of to not at least have a daughter by now.
"Send her home when she gets here." He said with no emotion.
"But my lord, it is custom to keep this woman in this situation. The Lord of the West will not take her back." Said the general.
"Then turn her around at the gate. I do not want her." He said with a silent anger laced in his calm words. The General knew he should have asked. Now he had created a political mess. If the Lord of Death kills this woman, it might be war. They needed the west for access to spices, sailing, and medicine. He had risked all of that for a chance for his Lord to have some happiness. A wife would have made him calmer he'd hoped.
The ride was even more awkward after this, and Lord Thetas rode ahead of the group, accompanied by two guards who were in soldiers' uniforms. They wore shining silver armor with the black crest of Thetas on their chests. There was no king, only nobles. Those who wore Mr. were the lowest, typically craftsman and merchants, some didn't even own land. Next was Sir, as they were nobles, however, they held no major land. Only the Lords ruled their respective small towns or cities, and had to answer to the ones above them, those that ruled regions.
They approached the small town, and the peasants and merchants alike bowed as he rode silently past. Mothers took their children and put them inside, while the men stood at the front of their properties, should any of the nobles ask questions about the incident the night before. The Lord stopped, well before the House of Raymond, the cities lord, and he walked to speak with the common folk. He figured they would answer more truthfully than the noble, so he would start there.
He looked at them carefully, until he saw a young woman arguing with her husband. She held a sleeping baby in her arms, swaddled in an old ratty blue blanket. "Tell him, Martin!" She hissed on whispered breath. She looked plump, as if she'd given birth recently, and the man was slightly balding, but otherwise thin and pale. breaths.
"Woman have you gone mad?! The Devil is a lie if you think I will go into the dragon's mouth!" He hissed back, trying to shove her in the house. Little did he know, that the Lord of Death was watching.
He would have been amused by their quarrel if it hadn't been for the audacity of someone to attack his storehouse, and hurt his farmers. They didn't notice until a soldier walked his horse two steps ahead and loudly cleared his throat. The woman rushed into the house, and the man took a deep bow, hoping that the Master didn't get off his horse.
Not only did he dismount Metus, but he walked past the man and into the house without saying a word. He looked around the humble home. It was small, but cozy, with only the essentials. There was a small kitchen with 4 worn chairs and a second-hand square table, a fire from the hearth of the fireplace, and a side room that would most likely be where the beds were. The man pleaded, but he ignored him. He sat at their small table, and took a deep breath to smell the food she had over the fire. The woman was making soup with a bone and potatoes. The smell actually made him hungry, as he hadn't eaten since yesterday, and it was affecting his thirst.
"My Lord, forgive us for disrespecting you." Bowed the husband.
"Please spare our son, my Lord." Bowed the woman, who thought their fates were already sealed.
"Sit." He motioned to them, which they obliged. The soldiers were about to come into the small house, but he waved his hand and they only stood guard by the door. "Now talk." He commanded.
The man gulped, he didn't want to rat out his friend, but he also didn't want to have his family killed. "Well, my lord", he scratched his head. "Quinton was the one who started this mess. I told him not to complain, but he did. And just like that, some stranger rallied up a bunch of folks and they set fire to the grain, the fools." He said looking at the table. Their soup started to scold and their lord waved his hand for the man's wife to save it.
"Where is Quinton?" He said calmly. The room was quiet for a long time, he had already told everything he knew, but he also felt like he was betraying his friend. They had known and worked with each other a long time, but his family came first. He would tell him. It wasn't like he had much of a choice anyway.