"Bathe and clean the beast.”
“Yes, master Bal’Taz.”
“I am not a beast,” Varick stated in a deep-throated voice while his arms and legs were chained. Guards brought him toward a nearby cell.
The Rirorni slaver Bal’Taz turned back on his heels toward Varick at the dank prison cell surrounded by five Rirorni guards. “Ah, it has a tongue.” He began to circle the prisoner, looking him up and down. “Not a beast, eh? You look like one to me.” He lifted the iron restraints and said, “You’re chained like a beast.” Wiping a finger across his muscular chest, he continued, “You’re dirty like a beast.” Sniffing. “You smell like a beast. To the nine hells, you’re even hung like a beast.”
The Rirorni guards chuckled nastily.
Eying them, Bal’Taz smirked, then turned his attention to his newest property. “Your retort, beast?”
Varick’s eyes narrowed at the Rirorni, and then he issued a deep growl in his throat.
“And you sound like a beast.”
Varick snapped his arms and legs taut, causing the chains to rattle and strain against his skin. The Rirorni guards took a step back.
Bal’Taz eyed the restraints to ensure they were holding. “However, I paid too much gold for just a meager beast. I see something of value. A gladiator.”
“I’ve slaughtered every Rirorni put in my way,” Varick snarled.
“Indeed, you’re the top animal in the fighting pits. However, I will instill the cunning and skill of an apex predator into you. With the blessing of the Great Khan Karameikos, I will pay to have you train with the ancient weapon masters to become the best gladiator in the Rirorni Empire.” Bal’Taz said.
Varick relaxed his muscles.
“Good boy,” Bal’Taz said, patting Varick’s shoulder. “Now, you’re an Alastarian? How do you feel about killing your own kind?”
Varick lowered his head at the question. “I am not their kind. Not after they abandoned me to you, Rirorni. I desire nothing more than seeing every Alastarian crushed and wiped off the face of Ghea.” Turning his head to face Bal’Taz, he narrowed his eyes and continued, “That also goes for your Empire.”
Waiving off the comment, Bal’Taz said, “Yes, yes. I’ve heard it all before. Every Rirorni will be put to the sword, and I will be the last to be kept alive and see my Empire in ruin.”
“Last?” Grunting, Varick retorted, “You are nothing special.”
***
Two weeks later…
Bal’Taz’s path led to a long hallway flanked on each side by guards wearing heavy, fur-lined armor and holding long spears twice their height. In the end, two guards stood by a great wooden door with an ornate carving of mounted Rirorni hunting a man with wolves.
“Great Khan Karameikos will receive no more petitions today,” a young guard said.
Bal’Taz stepped close to the guard, ensuring he had a good look at his deformed face. “Do you know who I am, boy?”
“You’re a slaver,” the guard snorted.
The other guard, much older, looked to his younger cohort. “This is the renowned Warlord Bal’Taz, gravely wounded at the siege of Trocar. He rode and slew enemies of the Empire when you were just a sniveling brat.” Pushing the youth away, he looked behind Bal’Taz and up to the recently washed, clothed, but chained and gagged prisoner with five escorts. “The hour is late, master Bal’Taz.”
“Yes, but-”
“But never too late for a warlord like yourself,” the veteran guard interrupted, holding up his hand. “Open the door.”
Nodding respectfully, Bal’Taz and his entourage entered. The pleasant smells of flowers, exotic perfumes, and cooked food made his mouth water.
A span of thick, wooden beams, like the rib cage of some massive beast, traveled the room's length. Standing in front of each timber stood a stationary palace guard. An enormous brazier with burning wood warming and lighting the area stood between each pair of wooden beams.
A guard motioned his group to one side of the room behind a group of Rirorni elaborately garbed in bright-colored silk clothing. A grand, wooden throne at the room's far end held a heavily clothed Rirorni. In it sat the Great Khan Karameikos. He talked with a veiled woman and a Shagornan Elf.
Bal’Taz couldn’t hear the conversation, nor did he care. He likely had an hour or more of boredom ahead of him with no chairs to sit on. Only the Great Khan and his royal entourage sat. However, audible gasps of amazement drew his attention back to the conversation. Two servants brought out wooden chests filled with sacks of gold. A fortune. Bal’Taz moved closer to get a better look. His deformed face caused looks of disgust and helped part the crowd. He then began to hear snippets of their conversation.
“Do you not wish to receive the blessing of the Great Khan of Khans?”
Hesitating, the woman slowly removed her veil and headdress, revealing her face. Khan Karameikos held up his hand and began to mumble a prayer. Glancing around, Bal’Taz’s eyes grew wide, recognizing the woman. “By the nine hells, it’s My‑re.”
At the utterance of her name, Varick's muscles snapped taut, his chains rattling audibly.
Bal’Taz began to push through the crowd, but the chamber guards immediately stopped him.
“Wait, I need to speak to her.”
“Back in line and control your beast,” the guards snapped, gripping their weapons.
Bal’Taz motioned to his five-member crew to restrain the gagged Varick and follow him out of the Khan’s chamber. His meaning was clear enough. Hurry!
“What about the petition to have Varick train with the ancient weapon masters?” asked a member of his group.
“Change in plans.