Althea
What will I say to the department when I return?
Cause of death - whip
Was it even possible to die from a whip?
I yelped at the bloodcurdling sound as he lashed it on the ground again. It was made from leather and would prick like a hundred needles if hit me.
"Althea Rosemary," he growled, stretching my supposed doom between his hands.
"Brave of you to not follow my orders," he taunted.
I had written my name in Coptic Egyptian on the first page. Everything else inside was English that was the cause of his current madness.
Keeping my mouth shut was better than riling him up.
The last message said electric compulsion would start immediately in close-to-death situations, which meant the pain wouldn't prolong.
It sucks to be the first one to go back, though.
He raised the lash over, making me close my eyes to brace the impact, my teeth clenched...
But the whip never came down.
I opened my eyes slowly, body shaking out of control.
His eyes were strained on my left shoulder in a curious expression. Dropping the leather strap, he walked forward and knelt closer till we were inches apart.
His skin was a striking tinge of gold. It wasn't tan or blonde, but somewhere in between that I could distinguish as golden only. The muscles told he worked out on a daily basis.
Much like a gym trainer who had cut out on carbs.
But he wasn't looking at me. Holding one of my arms to steady my shaking self, he yanked off the linen from my left shoulder.
I gasped.
He was staring at the brassiere strap.
"What.. is this?" he tucked a finger underneath the strap, pulling it in curiosity.
My face turned red, blood red.
It was a very primitive type brassiere, custom-made for this century, and I ensured it was hidden because it somehow, always, tumbled out by my shoulder.
Embarrassment wasn't a word compared to what I felt right now. I sat frozen on the haystack, gaze focused on my toppled AI book.
How could I tell what the heck was this? Moreover, doesn't he already knows what is it?!
Beads of sweat already covering my face dripped down the neck in trepidation.
"What is this Althea?" he breathed into my ear, his fingers now playing with the strap carelessly. My entire being shivered in the cold air as he blew gently over the sweated nape of my neck. The humid weather was suddenly making me shiver as if it was freezing here.
Up and down up and down until the sweat evaporated to a dazed world where my sanity had flown.
"Julian!" a voice called out, snapping us out of our trance.
Master invader grasped my shoulders and pulled me forward. My wrists burned behind the wooden pole at the sudden tug.
"Don't think I've forgotten about that book of yours," his stare shifted to the torn linen which he pushed back on my shoulder somehow,
"Be ready with the response," he warned and straightened up to walk over to a warrior who had entered the camp.
I lowered my face, hardly able to breathe. I should've been dead scared, but what he did, quite opposite, flushed me. Shaking my head, I thanked whichever Egyptian god was here to save me from this barbarian.
No, it wasn't a God; it was this warrior. I looked up and found him chatting with master invader.
"The soldiers have agreed on another attack we shall undertake to overthrow Darius of Persia. He can't flee this time," the warrior informed, crossing his arms.
He didn't bow or greet my captor in any way, which showed he was someone of equal rank.
"Hadn't he agreed on the peace offer he made before Egypt's siege?" Master invader rubbed his jaw in question.
"Julian, you know what? Fuck the peace pact," the warrior gripped his shoulders in fury,
"If I'll go signing a fucking peace pact with every territory I can undeniably conquer, these pests will be the first one to backstab me. Get it?"
"As you wish," he gave in. "What do I have to do?"
I listened to their conversation cautiously, searching my brain as to which war they were speaking about. If I wasn't wrong, their discussion was pointing towards the Battle of Gaugamela in which Darius III of Persia was to be killed.
"Helaine is already acquainted with the Eastern warlord of Persia. And lately, she's been giving enough information which would make our attack easier,'' listening to the facts master invader hummed, deep in thoughts.
The orange-haired warrior continued,
"So it would only be fair if a warlord kills another warlord. I leave this responsibility on you, Julian," he said, patting his shoulder.
Julian, that was the name of this barbarian.
I racked my brain for the warlord's name. Julian.
There was Julius Caesar, James II, Jefferson, John of Gaunt and so many
But no Julian.
My concentration was focussed like a laser beam on who this smouldering but barbaric historical figure of a warlord, maybe when I heard him say.
"That's an easy task for me, but you should get laid once in a while, Alexander. You're stressing yourself too much. Won't you use that Concubine Association for no good?" he grinned.
My head whipped to their direction in milliseconds. So rapidly that they halted their talk to see what happened to me out of the blue.
"Alexander the Great!!!" I cried out.
YOU ARE READING
Rendezvous in the Romanowskian Empire
Fiction Historique"And... the fifth rule," he came forward, locking me between him and the slab again. "This should be the last time you talked to me like that," he lowered his face to my level, spiking my heart rate further. "Next time you rant on or call me by the...
