"Move it, scum!" the guard growled as he shoved the slave walking in front of him. "The mistress wishes to see you."
The slave glared at the guard and vowed silently that one day soon he'd join the ranks of the dead.
The two men made their way through a series of winding corridors before arriving at a long spiral staircase.
"Go" the guard said quietly as he prodded the prisoner with the blunt end of his sword.
"Why does the filthy wench wish to see me?" the prisoner queried as they started the long ascent.
"I do not know nor do I care" the guard answered plainly. "And watch your tongue when you speak of the mistress or you'll soon find it missing."
The prisoner smirked as they continued climbing. How he wished this fool would attempt to inflict violence upon him. Without question it would be the last thing he ever did.
They reached the top of the staircase and the guard moved past the prisoner.
"Wait here and don't try anything foolish. You won't get far if you do."
The prisoner said nothing as he stood idly by.
The guard knocked firmly on the door.
"What is it?" a sultry, yet authoritative feminine voice answered.
"I bring the prisoner you requested to see, my Mistress" the guard replied.
The guard opened the heavy wooden door and motioned the prisoner forward.
"In" he said flatly.
The prisoner crossed the door and found himself in an elaborate chamber - The royal chamber.
"Bring him forth and secure him" the woman's voice ordered.
"Yes, Mistress" the guard answered.
"Arms up" the guard instructed the prisoner.
The prisoner merely stood with his bound hands in front of him, unmoving.
"Now!" the guard snapped as he jammed his sword into the prisoner's back.
The slave gritted his teeth and complied. The guard reached up and grabbed a large silver hook that hang from the ceiling. It glinted menacingly in the torchlight. A testament to the evil this regime had wrought.
The guard slung the hook underneath the cords that bound the prisoner's wrists and raised the hook back into position. The prisoner now hang helplessly where he was, his feet just barely touching the marbled floor beneath him.
"Leave us" the woman instructed.
"By your command" the guard replied as he bowed his head in reverence. He turned crisply and exited the chamber, closing the heavy door behind him.
"What is your name, slave?" the voice questioned from a distance. The prisoner could just make out a shape behind a curtain some feet away.
He said nothing, choosing instead to remain silent.
The woman chuckled quietly. "Ah, yes. I heard you were a stubborn one, and indeed it appears you may be. It matters not if you choose to speak. I already know the answer, don't I Jeroth Slade?"
The prisoner bristled slightly but maintained his silence.
"Jeroth Slade...Destroyer of Dark, Savior of the Woods, Son of Greymount. Yea, I know of thee, Jeroth Slade. And I know of what you are capable."
"And do you know me, I wonder?" she asked next as she made her way from behind the curtain.
The prisoner's eyes narrowed as he lay eyes on the bitch who, until now, had only been a name whispered in hushed tones around camp fires and outposts.
Mistress Marzana Darque.
He studied her as she slowly made her way in his direction. A tight black gown hugged her curvaceous body. His eyes lingered on the plunging neckline that hugged her full, round breasts before slowly looking up toward the face of the evil whore that had ground so many helpless towns under her heel.
Her long, dark hair framed her flawless face - Her full red lips curled in a slight grin. High, perfectly proportioned cheekbones accented what looked to be perfection.
But then there were the eyes. Eyes more blue than the deepest oceans. Eye that would be considered absolutely gorgeous - Were it not for the pure, unadulterated evil so evident behind them.
Bluer than any ocean, but deep waters could often drown one.
She stood before him in all her elegance. Allowing him to take in the full picture of her.