• Reign of False Kings
    Chapter Three: The Master



    The caravan had traveled well through the night and into the early rays of morning. Luca had given up the fight against sleep and was slumped over the horse's neck. Aran still sat upright in his seat; eyes half-lidded as he watched ahead in a daze. With the sun barely peeking out from over the horizon, he could see what could only be their destination. The estate in the distance was enormous; a grand mansion with four levels and numerous rooms.

    He watched through tired eyes as the gates were opened for them and they pulled around to the side of the large manor. Chatter and groans rose from behind him; the other prisoners being unloaded from their barred caravan. Aran looked back down at his bound hands as he heard the door to the carriage open and close.

    "You know what to do with the new ones. As for these two.." The ex-prince could feel the gaze of the man on his back. "Take them to the bath. I want them cleaned and presentable."

    "Yes, Master." A weaker voice answered.

    Aran was grabbed by a large male, his bonds being severed before being lifted and set on the ground. A young boy watched as the big man went to do the same for the awaking Luca. "Please come quietly," he begged in a soft voice, his head bowed. "The Master will punish you severely if you try to run..."

    The royal sighed. His whole body ached from the damage it endured during the past few days. Even if he did try to run he wouldn't get far before his tired and sore legs would give out on him. Even standing now was a taxing task. Luca was no different; barely managing to stand straight up without having to lean on the large servant.

    They were led into the estate and up a large marble staircase. Everything in the manor looked as if it would be right at home in Aran's castle. There wasn't much time to take it all in before the pair was shoved into a large room. It connected to another in the back that held a large bath, steam rising from the warm water inside.

    "You are to bathe yourselves," the boy explained quietly. "You have little time. Be brief."

    With that both the young boy and larger man left, the door locking audibly behind them. Luca glared at the door before turning to look back into the room with the steaming bath. "I'll take a bath, but not for him." She scoffed, rubbing her bruised wrists as she walked towards it. She stopped when she noticed that Aran hadn't moved. "You're not going to wash? Or is Your Highness too modest?"

    "I will wait," he answered, his gaze away from her. The general's wrapped chest was still exposed from the ripped tunic, but she seemed not to care. He supposed when one was trained for battle such things as modesty and clothing weren't prioritized.

    Luca snorted lightly. "Fine, I'll tell you when I'm done then. Won't be long." With that, she dissapeared off into the washroom.

    A little more then five minutes passed before the female general came back with a towel wrapped around her body. She jerked a thumb behind her, indicating that it was his turn. Aran passed her, his eyes focused straight ahead, before dissapearing into the bath. Once he was out of sight, the young general began to look around for something to wear. She didn't have to wander far. On a chair beside the door were twin bags. She knelt on the carpet and began to unwrap one of the bundles. The first item found was a pair of fine black linen pants with gold trim and then a matching, strapless bra. She wrinkled her nose in distaste, but dropped her towel and proceeded to dress herself.

    The clank of metal emminated from the bag as she continued to dig through it. She pulled out the source, gasping a pair of gold colored shackles with a chains length between them. The insides were laid with soft material, so as not to injure their captive. She dropped them immediately, digging through the bag to retrieve the last item. Her hands shook as she examined it; a golden collar.

    Luca looked up to see a full length mirror on the wall. Before her stood someone she didn't know. This person looked softer and younger, auburn hair lifeless and damp. The bruises on their stomach had paled and turned a hideous yellow color. The grip on the collar tightened as she stared at the stranger before tossing it, shattering the foreign girl into a hundred pieces.

    "That's not me," she stated loudly. When she turned away from the shards, Aran was there. She hadn't noticed when he had come back from the bath, but he had already begun to dress. He wore a matching pair of pants and was staring down at the shackles. They fell from his hands and he kicked them as far away from himself as he could. They hit the wall and fell to the floor with a clatter.

    "He thinks we're his pets," Luca spat vehemently. "I think not."

    "Ah, so you don't like my gifts?"

    Both spun towards the door to see Lucian and the larger servant from earlier standing inside the door way. Emerald optics were examining the shattered mirror with a disproving glance. He had changed clothing already, his long hair pulled back in a pony tail. "I would much prefer that they be completely dressed." At his words the large man walked over, picking the discarded shackles from the ground and grabbing the young prince by the arm. He struggled, but his slender frame was no match for the burly man and he was eventually bound by both arms and legs. But it was when the man reached for the collar did the royal really put up a fight. He flailed, voice almost frantic as the larger male clamped the cold metal around his neck.

    Luca watched, almost frozen, as the prince clawed at his neck and the man moved over to her. She tried to jolt past him, but was grabbed and pushed back against the wall to be fitted like her companion before her. Both now chained and collared, the man pushed them to their knees and held a powerful hand on each of their shoulders. Lucian grinned.

    "It's so nice to see you both cleaned up," he spoke as he approached the pair. Luca was silently fuming, her teeth bared in a growl as he drew closer. Aran, on the other hand, bore a fearful expression. He was trembling slightly, acting as if the collar against his throat burned his skin. It only made the man smile. He had seen it all before but each time it never failed to excite him.

    He set the package he had been holding on a small table. It was the one that Tanis had given him with their belongings inside. "I like to know a little about all my slaves," he told them as he opened it. "Let's find out about you, shall we?" The first of the things he pulled out were their swords. His eyes lingered espically on the long, narrow blade hidden within a blue sheath. Aran's fingers twitched. If only he could get his hands on it.

    "The crest of Geese?" Lucian murmured as he pulled out a chest plate. He made little comments and remarks every time something was pulled out. "Well now," his smile grew as he pulled out Aran's small crown. He held it up in the light, temporarily fascinated by it. "Which one of you owned this, I wonder?" He held it up for both of them to see. Neither answered.

    With a short laugh he set the crown on top of the rest of their belongings and drew closer. He stopped in front of Aran and made a dissaproving noise."Such a pretty face shouldn't be hidden," Lucian said, reaching to brush the stray strands from his face. The royal jerked back, glaring up through his bangs. He merely laughed and dropped his hand. "If you don't keep it out of your face I'll have to get it cut off. That would be a shame, wouldn't it?"

    His gaze moved over to the seething general, amused at her expression. "I'm going to ask you a question and you are going to answer," he explained, twirling a loose bang around his finger. "Before you became slaves who were you? It's unusual for such creatures to have fine a things as these."

    "What do you care?!"

    "I'm giving you one last chance to tell me willingly before I get angry about it," Lucian answered.

    Luca winced as the grip on her shoulder tightened. With a small growl she swallowed her pride. "I'm Luca, High General of Geese," she grumbled. The man raised a thin eyebrow, face questioning.

    "So that body armor belonged to you. How did you acquire a title meant for men thrice your age?" Luca leered at him. It didn't seem like he expected an answer, looking paticularly pleased and his attention turning back to the raven-haired boy who seemed to have regained a bit of his composure. "Maybe it's more then just coincidence then," he spoke, a hint of excitement in his voice. "Perhaps you are the Prince Aran?"

    "If you know who I was, then you know that the title no longer applies to me," he whispered.

    Lucian chuckled. "So the rumors are true. The honorable Prince Aran, heir to the throne, banished on account of treason. Tell me, my pet, what did you do?"

    The young man's eyes blazed as he tried to move towards the taunting male, but the hand on his shoulder held him back. "I did nothing!" He snarled, clenching his fists. "Nothing."

    Lucian smiled. "Hit a nerve," the slave owner purred. "You will tell me eventually. I'll make sure of that." Aran became quiet, staring angrily at the floor. He turned from the pair, closing the package that contained their belongings before heading towards the door. "I think I am through with you for the day," he announced. "You two amuse me greatly, but there'll be much time later." He looked back at the large guard that still held the captives in place. "Take these two to their room. Treat them nicely." He laughed and exited the room.

    The man jerked both captives up from the floor by their arms, leading them out of the room. They were marched down several long halls before stopping at a door and being shoved roughly inside. He practically threw the lighter Luca and shoved Aran onto the bed. Then, turned and left; the door slammed shut with the sound of the lock echoing through the medium sized room.

    Luca gave the ex-prince a sour look and moved to the far side of the bed. "This is all your fault," she growled, hugging a large pillow fiercely.

    "My fault," Aran repeated softly. "I fail to see how something completely out of both our control is suddenly my fault."

    The red head scoffed, shackles clanking against one another as she clutched the pillow tighter. The boy merely discarded the accusation, getting off the bed and moving to a chair on the other side of the room. He leaned his head back against the cushion and closed his eyes. He was tired, there was no doubt about that, but there was little to no chance that he would sleep tonight.