Tributes

Chapter Twenty Five

Chris didn't sleep well that night. He flinched at every sound he heard. His stomach curled uncomfortably with nerves and fear. His mind was stuck on what he had seen in the dungeons. The images of the dead-eyed souls being abused circling in his mind over and over. Followed by the nightmares of the monsters pulling him over to be used to the same way. He gasped for air and tried to shake it off. Tyreol would let him try again. Or at least he prayed the god would. Why else would he be put elsewhere? That one hope kept getting squashed by the nightmares and it just circled.

Eventually, dawns light filled the room, leaving him sleepless and watching the door carefully. Waiting for a monster to appear. Knowing his fate was to be decided soon.

Then the door opened and Tyreol was there. Dressed in in full armour, making Chris shiver in fear. His eyes looking over every inch of the metal and leather gear, runes carved into the thing, making Tyreol much more intimating then he already was. This was the man who commanded tens of thousands of humans' fear and respect. His eyes were unreadable as ever. His brow dark and frowning.

"Do you have no respect boy?" the god growled darkly, a whip landing millimetres from Chris's face. Chris realised his error a moment later, he should have reacted in some way. Stood or moved so he was kneeling. He should have shown some respect to the man. Basically anything but remain still and silent. The whip landed on his shoulder and Chris yelled in pain quickly falling to forward so he was on his knees and elbows, head down. Fear bubbled in his chest that he had already fucked his chance up again.

"Forgive me, my lord," Chris whispered on his elbows, crying out in pain as the whip hit his back this time. He was sobbing again. Tears running down his face and his breathing unsteady. He was used to punches and the odd burn of flame. But the kiss of leather was not a pain he was accustomed too. Not since growing taller than his father.

"Pardon?" Tyreol snarled. Chris looked up at him with fear in his eyes not sure what he had done wrong this time. "You truly learn nothing do you?" Tyreol sneered.

"I..." Chris hung his head, shifting so he was on his knees as he should have been from the start of the conversation. This was the creature who owned him and controlled his fate and already he had angered him more.  "Thank you for not making me stay in the dungeon overnight," he managed to get out. Tyreol hummed walking over to him.

"You are close to being correct," Tyreol growled, "But you're really pissing me off right now, boy," The whip hit against his back again and Chris swallowed a yell of pain. It hadn't been as harsh as the first two hits. "I am not your friend, Christopher," Tyreol intoned, the whip moving to under his chin and pushing his face up. Tyreol's eyes met Chris's and the air seemed to vanish from Chris's lung. Suddenly it was hard to breathe. It felt like there was a heavy pressure on his chest.

"No, you're not," Chris breathed, as much as Tyreol was kind to them, he was not their friend. He was kind out of the compassion of his heart, but Chris had broken the rules set. Crossed the line and harmed someone who meant something to the powerful god, "You are my Master."

"Correct, for once," Tyreol acknowledged, letting the whip brushing against Chris's shoulder but not hitting this time. Chris bowed his head again and tried not to make more of an embarrassment of himself as he already had. "So let's try this again," he said almost mockingly slowly like he was speaking to a slow child. "How should you have reacted to my presence?"

"Good Morning, Master," Chris said, forcing the word out. That had been his mistake, Chris was almost completely sure of it. He was also sure he was strong enough to survive this. He had been chosen, so he had to be strong enough to survive this.