Rune and Ruin

Seeds of the Gods - 11 - Hardening Off

395 B.C.E. - Villa of the Headsman, The City of Veii, Early Spring, Month of Aprilis

Thania

Marcus arrived just before the dinner hour to take her to the cena. In a hushed voice, he told Thania who would be dining with her master. "His father will be there, as well as Lord Cassius, from Rune. The rest are all soldiers, so it will be a quiet affair, not the celebration we will have when we return to Rune." He ignored Thania's wince at the mention of the enemy city. For his part, he sounded excited to go to the Tasuri capital. "You serve Master Falx. Just him. The others will be served by other slaves." He paused at the entrance to the triclinium, giving her a serious look, "you must focus on Master Falx, understand?"

Thania nodded, terror gripping her suddenly. The Warlord's father was here? She had heard of the man, of course. The Runion Senator believed that Acera should be taken to seed the Tasuri harems, but for her, he seemed to be nothing more than a story, a myth. Or, she thought as she entered the room, a nightmare.

Forgoing the traditional lecti, General Quintus and the Warlord sat on two smaller couches. She cast a glance at them, meeting dark brown and bright blue eyes as they studied her. Neither demon-shifter looked particularly happy, although she couldn't see any evidence of scales, claws, or horns, and their eyes weren't burning red.

Self-preservation made Thania lower her gaze, but as she moved deeper into the room, she scanned the other occupants from under her lashes. The man who must be the Senator bore the look of his son. Falx Fyrrin inherited the same patrician nose, strong jawline, and high cheekbones. The aging nightmare of the Acera appeared smaller and less powerful than his son, but Thania still found herself finding a reason to skate around the edge of the room furthest from the Senator, before approaching the Warlord's couch.

Another man, a wealthy patrician by the look of him, was standing across from them. His eyes followed Thania as she scurried to the Warlord's side, Marcus's warning playing in her head. The small table traditionally set in the middle of the room had been replaced by a large wooden one, probably pulled from the kitchens. The only lectus in use was occupied by a portly man, wearing fine linen clothing dyed several bright colors, and draped in strands of gold jewelry.

Thania knelt by the Warlord, who immediately stroked her hair, turning her face so that she was looking at his lap. An odd way to serve, unless he meant for her to pleasure him? A cold, icy feeling swept over her. She had no choice but to obey, even if it would tear another piece of her dignity away. Bitterly, she reminded herself that she had no pride as a slave.

The Warlord continued to stroke her, petting her as if she were a particularly favored pet. He made no move to reveal himself to her, even though she could see his turgid cock hardening under the loose, short tunic he wore.

The men were speaking to each other in Runion. Thania allowed their foreign words to wash over her until a small tug on her hair tilted her face up to the Warlord. "Look outside, but do not react," he said in a low voice.

Marcus had warned her, much the same, she realized swiftly. Gods, what is it?

Her eyes caught on the small garden through the window behind the Senator. There, an Acera man, dressed in his finest clothes, was strung up by his hands to a tree. Blood dripped into urns below him from his numerous cuts and wounds. Eerily, his face was perfectly intact, although pale and looking like the corpse he would soon be. At his feet were a bundle of rags that Thania slowly realized were two women and three small children. As she watched, a whip cracked through the air, and one of the women stretched out a shaking hand to move an urn to better catch blood dripping from the new wound on the man.

This was the chief's family.

Dear gods.

"Eyes back on me, Flammatia."