(An'neer) Slave of Zatar ~ Part 01

An’neer awoke as she sensed the subtle change in the temperature in the bedroom. The cool night air slowly growing warmer as the desert wind signaled the coming of the sunrise and the hateful sun of Zatar.

Covering her mouth with her hand as a yawn escaped her. An’neer’s gaze drifted from the ceiling to the face of her young charge who lay on the bed beside her no doubt spent from a long night of drinking, feasting, and sex all in celebration of his ascension to manhood. A common practice among the noble families of Zatar.

Thankfully unlike some this young lord had not been all that hard on the eyes. A youth with fairer the average features with a mane of long dark hair and a firm and muscular build that was the result of countless hours of work. No doubt countless hours of practice with the sword and bow which was an encouraged passtime. A young warrior in the making whose metal was yet to be truly tested upon the forge of life. A young lord who like so many before him whose name had somehow escaped her given that names mattered very little in her profession

An’neer smiled sadly, kissing him softly upon his brow, whispering soft spoken praise into his ear as he slept. A final kiss upon his brow as she turned her thoughts to the coming day as she rose from the bed and collected her silks from the bed chambers cool stone floor.

Dressing quickly she pulled her hair into a tail as she slipped silently from the chamber into the banquet hall where the Steward of her Mistresses household awaited her.

“She’s gone.” The steward announced in frustration before An’neer had a chance to offer a polite bow.

“ I assume we are talking about Ada again.” An’neer hissed sharply not bothering to offer the fool more than a passing glance given that there was no surprise to be had by the news. “ I warned you Steward, I told you to watch her carefully or she'd try to runaway again.”

The Steward frowned deeply, nodding his agreement. “ She slipped away sometime after the night’s entertainment. None of the household guards reported seeing her nor did any of the guards patrolling the grounds or guarding the gates.“

“ Clearly someone is lying.” An’neer stated plainly.

The Steward was somewhat taken aback by the boldness of her words but said nothing given they each knew their place in their Mistresses household and that it was the Stewards status that was on the line. So long as none witnesses the insult she had offered the appearance of balance would be maintained.

An’neer frowned, pausing just long enough to grab a piece of fruit from a serving bowl left over from last evening's celebration. “ I assume you have already dispatched the hounds and offered a suitable reward for her recovery? ”

The Steward nodded.

An’neer nodded in turn, biting into the fruit she held. “ Our Mistress returns in two days Steward. You have until then to resolve the matter or she will do more than whip the cost of that slave out of your hide.”

The sound of the bells attached to the anklets worn by all the slaves of the household alerted them both that the other slaves were awake and were gathering in the Eastern Courtyard for morning prayers.

An’neer bowed politely to the Steward before starting for the courtyard as well.

The status of her Mistresses favorite or no, An’neer was still a slave and was by the laws of the land required to attend morning prayers or be punished for the insult to the God of her human masters.

As was the law of the Lands of Zatar, all slaves were required to gather in the morning before the official start of the day to offer up prayers of worship to the God of their human Masters. A deity that was in her humble opinion a spiteful and vain creature who tolerated the worship of no other before himself in the whole of the lands be it freeman or slave.

In the Eastern Courtyard a massive statue of bronze and gold had been erected in honor of the great and all-powerful God of Zatar.

Ar in each and every depiction she had ever seen was a human with long flowing hair and a oddly cruel yet handsome face adorned with dark stone eyes that always seemed to An’neer to follow after you watching and judging your every move. A body depicting masculine perfection in all its glory with a sword in the one hand and an earthly sphere in the other. Naked in all his glory even his half-erect phallus was a massive thing even by human standards and often displayed in a manner for all to see and envy.

Taking her assigned place with the other slaves. An’neer kneeled upon a woven mat before the great statue of the Deity already feeling its gaze cold and hateful gaze fixed upon her yet again filling her with a kind of dread as they awaited the initiate priest in residence to appear to lead them through morning prayers before disappearing back into his private chambers to study and pray to his chosen god.

A moment later the young priest appeared in his clean white robes walking to the head of the gathered congregation and raising his hands motioning them all to kneel. A moment later his voice filled the courtyard as he recounted the morning prayer.

The day dawns oh great and powerful one.
It is for you that we worthless beings arise and gather to worship.
It is to you oh great and merciful one that we offer thanks this day.

A symbol sounded in the absence of the young priests voice and all those gathered bowed as was expected.

Yours is the blessing of the food we eat.
Yours is the blessing of the air we breathe,
Yours is the blessing of the shade of the great tree that protects us from the hateful desert sun.

The symbol sounded again and all those gathered bowed their heads to the earth again.

It is of you great one, we beg your favor and blessing.
It is of you great one, we beg your wisdom and understanding.
It is of you oh great one, we beg that ours is a life that is long and fruitful.
For your glory Oh great one.

The symbol sounded a final time and all those gathered bowed their heads where they remained until the young priest had departed the courtyard.

And thus how a day in the life of a slave of Zatar began.

< Prev : The Dungeon Master Next > : An Audience of The Guardian