ROME
The carriage slowed and came to a halt before a wide clearing that appeared just a little past the boundary between Alkarod and Hanaerum.
Their guards dismounted their horses and took watchful positions. The guards were all dressed in black disguises in a material of far less quality than their official Royal uniforms. Not a trace of the Royal insignia was in sight and all distinctly Lycan army weapons were changed to more common weapons. For this night, Rome was a merchant at a slave auction party, and it had to remain that way until the raid.
Rome alighted from the carriage and was about to give Elora a hand to get off the step when he remembered he was to be her slave master, not King or gentlemen. And she wasn’t his mistress, but a slave to be used and disposed of if she displeased him.
He stepped away from the carriage not bothering to look behind him and started off to the opening of the Grove where the cave descended to the underground auction house. He sensed her walking behind him but didn’t turn.
As they neared the entrance, they were greeted by two slavers clad in black leather from head to toe. Rome spotted a glint of metal out of the corner of his eye and sensed eyes on them. They had archers hidden in the tree tops.
“Your name?” The slave to the right asked. His mouth was hidden behind a black scarf that covered most of his features.
“Kaligan.” Rome drawled. He easily slipped into the role of a debauched rich merchant, eyeing the men before him like they were a speck of dust that had dared to ruin his shoes. “Kaligan, the merchant.”
“Are you on my list… Mr…?” The other slave asked, his hand running along the paper illuminated by the torches and lamps around the entrance.
“Kaligan,” Rome answered again, letting his frustration slip into his words. “Surely you boys ‘ave ‘eard of me. All of this bloody kingdom’s silk comes from my ship. ‘eck, I provide the cloth your king wipes his arse with.”
He slipped in an eastern Bale accent and frowned as if he’d been insulted by them not knowing who he was. The real Kaligan was somewhere in his dungeon where the rest of tonight’s party guests would end up if all went well. It was pretty good acting, if he did say so himself.
All the while Rome had been speaking, Elora had been standing behind him with her head bowed and her eyes on the floor. Rome glanced at her from the side of his eyes but turned away quickly before he could be mistaken for having concern for her.
“Mr. Kaligan. You’re on the list,” The slaver said, looking up from his list and narrowing his eyes as he looked over Rome.
His eyes widened in recognition suddenly, sending waves of caution through him. The man walked a couple steps closer bringing his lamp closer to Rome’s face.
Rome didn’t move all the while the man perused his face. He waited, determined to follow through to the end.
“I know you!” The slaver cried handing his lamp to his partner, “I fucking know you!”
Rome didn’t move although his hands clenched at his side as he prepared himself to fight if the need arose.
“You do?” Rome asked smiling lazily, “I don’t recall meeting you.”
“Yeah.” The man insisted, “Your shiny black hair, the clothes. All of it. I see through it.”
Rome could smell Elora’s fear. Her gasp, even though controlled, had tickled his ears as if she had screamed. Rome subtly moved to shield her from their line of sight. If a fight broke out, he wanted to be sure she was out of harm’s way.
Rome’s guards had been properly trained for this mission. The fact that not one of them had moved or drawn their sword in his defense, proved that. It was an unusual plan that had been met with many protests but it was his command and it had to be followed. He had rubbed in the fact that he could hold his own against them how much more the weaker werewolves.
“You see through it?” He asked still smiling. Not even a hint of fear was betrayed by his eyes or his tone. The accent he had adopted rang in a clear lilt through the night’s air.
“Yes!” The man laughed clapping his hands together, “You’re Maristos’ Brother. Are you not? The one who ripped me of 200 Incas. Your brother is a clever fox in the games. How is he?”
“Ha!” Rome laughed genuinely, relieved that he had not been caught and the operation hadn’t been busted. “Yes. Maristo. Ha! He is good.”
“Welcome, Mr. Kaligan. I didn’t know Maristo had a brother who is a big merchant.” He laughed clapping his frowning friend on the shoulders, “Right this way, man.”
With that, they led them through the small forest to the door in the cave and opened the door letting them into the underground auction house.
As they walked in, the slavers explained that they had just entered through the back room because the main entrance was on the other side of Alkarod.
Rome let his eyes roam they had just been led into. The receiving room, as they’d called it. It was where the guests could be handed off to the host or the servers who would lead them into the main party. It was covered on all sides with dark drapes hung randomly from the ropes hanging across the roof of the cave and had a cozy air about it.
Sounds of strangled moans broke out behind them and Rome turned to see a young were wolf clad in costly clothing impaling a young slave girl with his cock. She had her legs wrapped around him with her back against the wall. They would have been hidden behind one of the set of drapes if the werewolf’s thrusts weren’t so forceful.
The girl struggled to push him away from her but the werewolf pulled her legs back up and threatened her with the short knife he had against her throat. He was taking her will.
Rome muttered a low curse as disgust placed a bitter taste in his mouth.
It took everything in him to refrain from rushing over to them and ripping the young wolf to shreds. He turned away as the servers arrived that would lead him and Elora into the party arrived. And in due time too because he could feel his restraint wearing thin.
Large double doors lined with velvet opened to let them into the main hall of the auction house where most of the guests had been mingling.
Even though the space could be described as nothing less than enormous, it was already crowded with people dressed in only the finest silks and linens. The room was lit by lamps aglow with blue and red lights only serving to add an erotic air to the room.
A large stage was raised at the center where scantily dressed slave women were tied to the long pole at its center. They appeared to be dancing involuntarily, as a couple of slavers kept whipping them as they danced, the sound of the whip drowned by the noise of the music being played from the corner of the room. The air in the room was thick with smoke from expensive cigars and burnt narcotic leaves.
Around the stage, a couple of men were taking off their belts and preparing to mount the stage, the other patrons cheering them on as the slave women cried.
Rome folded his hands into tight fists when he realized what was happening.
The women hanging on the stage had been virgins until this moment, and the men would pay some Incas to climb the stage and fuck them right there, before everyone’s eyes.
A closer look revealed that the women and girls had their mouths stuffed with ball gags for each. So they couldn’t raise their voices.
The men climbed onto the stage and examined the naked women, fondling their breasts and thighs as they women whimpered. They too, had whips in their hands, albeit smaller ones, and looked like they would have no reservations in using them. The women were to have no pleasure in the sex. It was strictly torture for the pleasure of the clients.
Rome turned away and looked around as if that could distract him from the horror happening in front of him. He would have to be patient till he located where the private auction would be happening. He needed to find the bastard who ran the whole thing.
The waiters and waitresses serving the drinks were naked too. Each one, bearing marks of the whip that kept them working and long chains clinging to their wrists and clanging from their ankles as they walked.
The sight was sickening.
Suddenly, cheering from another end of the room rang out stealing his attention.
He motioned for Elora and his servers to follow him. They needed to see everything there was and get evidence to do what they needed after the raid.
As they neared the crowd at the other end of the room, Rome realized that they had been cheering on a death match going on in a giant steel cage. The sides of the cage and the floors were bathed with blood and entrails of people that had lost previous matches.
The current fighters were both male slaves with rusted swords in their hands, both naked and bleeding with numerous cuts. The younger slave was holding his sword in his right hand and holding his bleeding ear with his other hand.
The older man charged forward with his hand lifted to deliver a killing blow, his sword bearing down with great force the younger slave had dodged.
He backed away almost immediately with surprising agility and attacked again, his sword going back and forth in a frenzy as he frantically tried to kill his opponent.
His opponent saw his chance and took it. He rushed to the older slave and knocked to the ground. The man fell with a thud into a pool of his own blood, slipping and sliding on the gory floors.
The younger slave lifted his sword to cut his opponent’s head, eyes bright with desperation to live. Rome saw the fear in his eyes plain as day.
The crowd went wild with chants of “Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill!”
The boy looked around and as if realizing what he had become, he threw his sword down, unable to deal the final blow.
The crowd began to boo, some even going as far as throwing cups at the cage.
They didn’t like his hesitation one bit. He was ruining their entertainment.
The cage doors opened, when it seemed the young slave wouldn’t deliver the killing blow, and two slavers marched in. Two shots rang out from their guns and the slave boy fell dead for refusing to kill his opponent. Another pair of shots rang out as they ended the second slave that was supposed to die.