The Conjured and the exiles

Leoff was in hell.

Hand’s ran down his body, brightly lacquered nails circling his nipples. Touches that were possessive and exploratory. Painted lips tasted his chest leaving red marks as they passed, red as arterial blood, marks like wounds on his body.
He gasped as her mouth worked lower, nipping and nibbling down the flat plane of his stomach. Playfully a tongue dipped in to his belly button. Her nails scored down his thighs, hairless now having been waxed at her command; and shiny with oils used to massage his sore muscles. Her gentle scratches swirling closer to the growing sign of his arousal serving as hint of were the lady intended to go with this teasing.

Brown eyes glanced up his face, knowing eyes, a woman’s eyes deeply rimed with kohl the candle light reflected so it appeared as though flames danced in her pupils. She licked her full and artificially rouged lips before taking him in to her mouth. His hands twitched by his sides, but as she applied a stronger suction he unconsciously burred them in her hair. She was on her knees to him yet why did he feal so powerless!

Her eyes did not leave his, until he threw his head back his mouth opening in a silent cry as the coiling sensation at the base of his spine began to centralise. Up and down her lips ran over his turgid length, her evil tongue flicking over its hyper sensitive eye. She was merciless and his release came as an explosion which she swallowed easily. His shame washed over him as he stood trembling in its aftermath. The noble woman stood up gracefully unclipping her silken robe so that it was left behind as she stood, revealing her tawny skin, her pert breasts with pale dusky brown nipples and the hairless mound at her centre. Leoff’s shame came tenfold now as he knew that he could not refuse her desire.

Leoff later sat on his bed head in his hands and was wondering what was becoming of himself. Gradually his pride was been eroded away by life in Arena. He had only intended to fight in the arena for quick money, in the death matches he was still his own master, still able to chose if he would fight or no. He was going to make the money for his sister’s release, and then a few more matches and he could have brought himself free from Sarol. The distruction of his pride hd began when he had killed that woman in his sixth match, it was against his honour to kill a woman and yet he had done it, and to his growing shame he was able to live with it. He had to save his sister, for anything you wanted there was a cost, and he would pay it gladly. But then that noble had to take his sister from the prison and complicated the whole matter. Lord Darcia, how he hated that man, he hated him with every fibre of his being. And so he had to come up with a new plan, to infiltrate the circles of nobility. He had already swallowed his pride and agreed to become the possession of a noble, like a racehorse or a fighting cock. But he had not expected to be used in the way that his mistress wanted to use him.

He didn’t want her. He didn’t even want to touch her, it disgusted him how his body reacted to her, she was too skilled and he was too young and inexperienced to resist her. Hell brushing past an attractive maid in an inn was enough to give him a hard on, what hope did he have against this succubus. That was how he thought of her; a demon who came to him at night, or summoned him from his dreams to her where she would defile his body with her ghostly touches, and her womanly charms. Long red hair that smelt of roses, lips that tasted of wine, and skin of vanilla, all delightful things that now turned his stomach.

He gathered his raiment in his arms, smelling the comforting sent of leather, metal, sweat, and the bee’s wax polish he used to keep it supple; hoping that the memories of men at arms, weapons, and a simple life with course bread, stews and the sound of male laughter would help him to forget the smell, the taste, hell everything about that noble woman. Next time he would refuse her.

The next time she had summoned him it was to her own home. He wondered weather the noble woman had any shame at all? Did she really intend to seduce him on in her marriage bed? As he was shown through her opulent plaice by blank faced servants he wondered what they thought of such goings on. The way that not one of them would meet his eye told him that the husband certainly did not know that this was going on, but the way they had directed him straight to her apartments let him know that this was not the first time something like this had happened.

Lady Sienna was lying out on her bed. Only a gossamer thin night gown covered her, emphasising her nakedness rather than hiding it. ‘Leoff.’ She smiled a sultry greeting her voice caressing his name. ‘Come sit.’

His resistance amused her, or so she said when he refused to join her on the large bed. With mocking laughter she stood and came to him. ‘Oh my shy virgin.’ The woman teased, walking across the room, watching him watching her. His face was like thunder, stung that she would mock his inexperience, angry that she was still triumphant over stealing his first time, and that she would callously rub his nose in it.

‘Lill, wine.’ She said softly and from nowhere a young serving girl appeared baring a tray with a jug of wine and two goblets. After petting the girl’s head as one might a good dog the lady then pored out two goblets of wine, offering one to Leoff. Leoff took it but didn’t drink eyeing the red liquid with suspicion. Lady Sienna took a dainty sip of her own drink looking at the man over the rim of her goblet.

‘Don’t you like red wine?’ she asked.

He put the goblet down. ‘Not really.’

She placed hers down as well. ‘Pity, it might help to loosen you up a little.’

The noble woman swayed back and forth for a moment before she moved towards him with a little girlish laugh. He had stood still until her hands reached out to touch him, swiftly he had caught her hands and without hurting her managed to pin her to the wall. At first he thought that he had scared her, but he realised that she was actually exited by his show of force. ‘Yes, that’s it take me my mighty warrior!’

‘No!’ Leoff growled.

‘Are you trying to make me beg, oh my...’

‘I don’t want to sleep with you.’ Leoff said with deathly calm. And the lady realised that he was not simply playing with her. He pushed off the wall and moved away from her.

‘Your mine I can take what I want from you.’ The lady had replied.

‘That’s not how it works, you can tell me to fight in matches but that’s it.’

She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. ‘Exactly, I can tell you to fight in matches, so what happens if I suddenly decide to have you fight the lions without weapons, or ten champions hmm?’

Leoff had felt like a fly trapped by a spider in that moment, he broke out in a cold sweat, would she really do that to him? But Leoff didn’t fear death, or so he told himself young enough to not truly believe in such things. ‘That’s your decision, but this one is mine.’ He said as he turned his back on her and left shutting the door firmly behind him.


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Sienna lay out on her day bed, a servant was brushing out her waist length hair. The young woman had closed her eyes in bliss. ‘Rhi, rub my shoulders.’ She said languidly waving over another servant who stood by. The Serving man complied of course, working out the knots of tension in his mistress’s neck. Sienna purred under the eunuchs touch.

‘You are tense today mi’lady, do you still have that headache?’

She let out a brittle laugh, but no reply. It was no wonder she was tense that stupid boy, who did he think he was to deny her? How dare her gladiator turn his back on her and leave without her permission! Sienna was used to lovers throwing strops, but they always came back, but that young man had no intention of coming back to her she could tell. When the door had closed she had picked up her wine and looked at her reflection distorted in the glass. Her face twisted in to a snarl before she threw it across the room in a fit of temper. The way it smashed against the wall was most satisfying. The goblet was probably worth a labourer’s salary for a month, but what did she care for that, Gaius would buy her more; she had always got what she wanted. Her eyes narrowed, she would have to teach her gladiator a lesson, but how?

She could take his friend as a lover, Vasillion was it? Drive the young man out of his mind with jealousy. A large part of her simply wished she could just cut his beating heart out of his chest in front of his still conscious eyes and squeeze it in her hands. May be she should have him put on the rack for his insubordinate, his body pulled taught and she would watch as his limbs were torn asunder as she watched like a vengeful goddess. But these pleasant musings were interrupted by the entrance of her husband calling her name.

‘Sienna?’

She sighed annoyed, but smiled as he came in to view. ‘Terent dearest.’

‘Don’t patronise me Sienna.’ Tarent didn’t bother to hide his annoyance, and the red of his eyes was a good sign that he was hung-over, his hair was tousled, so he had only just got up and he was never at his best first thing in the morning. ‘Where were you last night, you were supposed to attend dinner at Lord Garlend’s with me?’

‘I had a headache, didn’t anyone tell you?’ She asked innocently.

‘No they did not.’ He bit out. ‘Not that that matters I told you that I wanted you there.’

She smiled wanly at him. ‘Darling you wouldn’t want me there with a headache; I would have just sat there and looked miserable.’

It was the truth to a degree as all good lies are, all lord Garlend was interested in was plays. And he would have had one of those awful troopers of his perform some fast of a play, the stench of perfume upon heated bodies, the silly laughter and chatter, her husband looking over at the actresses as if he could eat them, having to pretend that she didn’t notice. She would be lady Edouard, a superficial lovely creature, who walked talked and received the praise of her beauty with a shrug of the shoulder, careless, indifferent and it was so boring, boring, boring!

‘You seem to be having a lot of headaches recently.’ He replied testily not only referring to last night leaning down to be eye level his one groomed brow raised. He ran the back of his hand over her cheek his voice turned knowing. ‘I have heard something about a young gladiator from my father.’

For a moment she thought that he might know, but how could he? After all he was convinced that she had turned frigid with the coming of winter or so she had overheard him saying. In any case she could lie her way out of it and so answered in an offhand vague way so as not to raise suspicion, ‘Ah, my new toy. Your father thought that I could do with a hobby. After all you have so many.’

He laughed at the insult, knowing well his wife’s jalousies but Terent was never a man to let an insult slide, ‘Hmm, clever as well as barren.’

‘Me?’ She laughed. ‘ I don’t see any children to your name either.’ She answered smoothly, it was a familiar argument.

He lent in and kissed her neck with a smirk ‘That you know of.’

‘Please.’ She sighed, ‘your father would know, and I’m sure I would be got rid of soon after that sent to some out of the way nunnery with some poor excuse like I have decided to renounce the world.’

He lent in and kissed the corner of her mouth, ‘Now why would I want to get rid of you.’ She leant back and watched him with hooded eyes. He lent over her, his arms cadging her in but she didn’t react knowing he would lose interest if she did nothing to encourage him. ‘So about this new gladiator of yours is he any good?’

‘Oh he’s very good.’

‘I see.’ He said his lips inches from her own he taped her on the nose gently with an indolent finger. ‘Not as good as my Roth I would wager. Oh I have a present for you by the way.’

‘A present.’ She said some light coming in to her eyes. Tarant’s presents were always interesting. It had been a while since he had given her anything, as if his creativity in surprising her had died after their honey moon.

‘At the Coliseum a new mural to be unveiled tomorrow of you as Amara, the goddess of love after she had her lover kill someone who insulted her. I know how much you loved that story.’

‘oh, you mean at the Arcanum’s show?’

‘Yes my dear. And you will be attending.’

‘Of course, you know I never miss a gladiator fight.’ She had a sudden delicious idea, a way to get back at her own gladiator. She put on her best wheedling voice, her daddy can I have a new pony voice. ‘In fact I have an idea, a way to make up to you.’

‘Oh, and what is that love?’

‘My gladiator will fight for us.’

He considered the proposition. ‘I don’t know father would rather use his best men, it is for the emperor after all.’ Lazily he petted her cheek. ‘It’s a nice idea.’

‘It would be to the death’ she interrupted. ‘And he would be matched against three, no five men.’

He stood up, ‘Now that is an interesting Idea Sienna my love. I will have to broach it with my father.’

As ever Sienna had her own way, and the Edouard family’s offering of entertainment for the emperor would be Lady Sienna’s own personal gladiator verses five of the best from the death match arena’s men purchased that very day. It was as she had expected at the centre of grate talk. No other noble woman had her own gladiator. And a fight to the death, it was rare in the coliseum to throw away good fighters on a whim like that; truly it was a lavish display. It was refreshing to see the Arcanum first scandalised, then fascinated and then whipped up in to a fever like curious children who were allowed to walk on forbidden ground. Sienna knew that a week after the fight half of her circle of intimates would also have their own gladiators. It was a sight annoyance, but she couldn’t help being secretly pleased. It was like when she had first gone with Terent to the death matches, exiting, new, and made better because she was the first of her kind to do it, it’s allure at first in the forbidden, the taboo of a woman watching men die. Honestly at first she had been shocked, but she didn’t want to show her young hansom husband that, she didn’t want his sarcastic laughter directed at her, such a soft hearted little thing she had been then, so naive, She pitted her old self.

Dressing for the fight she placed large dangling rubies in her ears to match the pendent around her throat. It was like a perfect drop of blood, the colour of the spray that had gushed from the sugar addict’s neck when her warrior had severed his head for her. She smiled to herself thinking of him, and Terent, standing beside her, dusting the lace at his wrists, had caught the smile and turned it in to an invitation. ‘Damm it Sienna, why don’t you look at me like that more often?’

Her poor husband, how typical, how vain, provoked by a smile that was not ment for him. She turned from him lest he touch her bare shoulder and be enticed further. ‘We will be late.’ She had said. He had stiffed and his mouth ad formed that obstinate line she was so familiar with now. If she would ever admit it to herself she was still angry with her husband, not one year in to their marriage and she had found him with two harlots in their bed. But that was a while ago, and she had told herself she didn’t care, that she hadn’t loved him. no noble woman falls in love, love was a base emotion that would only get in the way of political matches, even at fifteen she had know that, it had been a brilliant match, he was rich, young and fortunately for her hansom. But despite all of that she had never expected to fall in love.

Right now she didn’t want to think about her husband, and so she placed her mask over her face to wait in the atrium, Gaius was already waiting, dressed in his formal purple and gold robes, grandly arrayed as befitted his status as chief domestic advisor to the Emperor.

‘You must be exited Sienna my dear, your never early.’ He smiled.

‘Terent looks like he might take a while.’ She curtsied a greeting but said with barely hidden scorn. ‘ He is still trying to powder over that scar Lord Darcia gave him. ‘

‘Don’t tease him my dear; he is very sensitive over it.’

Sensitive was an understatement, he had ranted and raved over the wound for days. And in his cups during the dinner parties she had been forced to turn up to he had been swearing that he would run Lord Darcia through for the insult done to him. Salford thankfully had told him to be quiet on a few occasions. But drunk Terent never had guarded his tongue, and so the embarrassing story about been bull whipped by the Marcher duke for touching his serving girl had come out. The whole story far from making Terent look like a victim made him seem like a fool, as did his empty promises at retribution. Sienna had met Lord Darcia before, he had never met a colder man in her life, with eyes like steal he had ignored her flirting, he was polite but severe, hansom in a dark stern kind of way, but certainly not the kind of man to be bested by a man like Terent.Sienna sighed behind her mask, ‘I have tried to tell him that he shouldn’t try to hide it, that he looks manlier with it like it is.’

‘If only he hadn’t told everyone at Arlin’s rout he could have got away with it.’ Terent’s father sighed. ‘Now it is a mark of shame. Bull whipped, buy the gods!’

‘Will he have to fight Darcia then for his honour?’ She asked interested, she had never seen a real duel before.

‘I hope not. Though if he keeps spouting off the way he dose who knows?’

Sienna didn’t hold out to much hope, Terent was not a complete idiot, and at heart he was a coward. Never by his own choice even in hottest blood would he meet Darcia alone in a field with nothing but cold steal and letting the god’s decide. No if she knew Terent he would go and tell his father, who would then have someone poison the lord of the falling lakes before the bout so he was week. Or even better have an assassin slit his throat while he slept. Gaius would never suffer his only son to be killed, so Terent probably wouldn’t even need to ask. Especially not with Darcia it was well known that their was little love lost between the house of Darcia and Edouard an argument about a border somewhere, one that had at the time gone in Darcia’s favour, the incident still rankled.

The grand coliseum was a colossal building. The autumn show was the chance for the nobles to show off their best gladiators, in a display predominantly for the emperor’s pleasure. But since now the harvest over, a large number of the nobility migrated back to the capital for the long dark winter rather than having to hide out the winter in draffy castles, with muddy roads and little amusement it was a good way to start of the season. Important families like the Edouard’s and her own sat in luxurious private boxes. There’s was only one away from the emperors own. It was to her box she went now, greeting friends, and being her usual charming self. Terent directed her attention to the mural decorating there box now. It was a brilliant piece of work, it showed her in all her glory, a goddess beautiful but vengeful, it showed her topless, with only a sheet warped around her waist to maintain any modesty, and offering up to her a head on a plate was the image of her husband. But in her minds eye it was another man, a man she waited for when the entertainment began.

‘Sienna we are going to the emperors box, he is beckoning us do you want to come?’ Giuas said, as next to them in the imperial box the emperor in his heavy gold mask and many shrouds beckoned the noble with his finger.

‘I will stay for now.’ She smiled. ‘Just encase I say something I shouldn’t.’

‘Would only my son be so wise.’


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Vas looked worriedly at his friend. ‘This match sounds like suicide.’

Leoff adjusted his chest plate for the fourth time. ‘It’s not like I have a choice hear Vas.’

‘I just don’t understand a match to the death? And against five other signed gladiators its dam right not on!’ Vas came to help him tighten the strap, pulling it hard like an ostler harnessing post horses in a hurry.

‘Well it is on, all I can hope to do is get lucky and not die.’ Leoff knew that it was a death sentence; he had known the minuet that he had left the room and heard the sound of breaking glass behind him that that bitch would find some way to pay him back for spurning her. Now that he could practically smell death’s putrid breath on his neck he wondered why he had.

Vas’s knuckles went white as he griped his friend’s armour. ‘It doesn’t make sense most nobles... It seems like a punishment.’

‘I’m owned by a spoilt little girl, who doesn’t care about anything or anyone, I’m just a dolly to her, that’s all Vas’ He explained, his hand griping over Vas’s. The dark haired man looked up his nearly back eyes usually bright like a magpies, were full of deep sadness, and red rimed from crying. Vas hadn’t cried in front of him, but after Vas had found out about the match, As Vas found out about everything which went on in there stables sooner or later even though this news Leoff had tried to keep to himself, Vas had immediately asked if it was true, Leoff never one to lie confirmed it. Vas had calmly nodded and stayed for a little while, but that night Leoff had herd his friend crying in the secret of his own room. It was the first time that anyone had cried over him, and Leoff wasn’t sure what t feal about it, for some reason he felt a slight guilty happiness knowing that someone in the world cared about him. Leoff rested his forehead against his friend’s, his was already sweaty with nerves but Vas didn’t seem to mind. ‘Now do you see why i hated nobles so much, they don’t care about us, our life’s are just entertainment for them, even our deaths, they behave like they are gods able to decide our fates, but their shit stinks just like anyone else’s.’

‘I know.’ Vas murmured. ‘i just never thought that we...you would be on the sharp end of it.’

‘Don’t worry about me.’ Leoff said with a broken laugh, ‘I’m a good survivor.’

Vas let out a little helpless laugh and realised his death grip on Leoff’s raiment. ‘I suppose I should let you go and warm up?’

‘Wait Vas.’ Leoff said catching hold of the man’s shirt sleeve. ‘Play that song you played when I was injured.’

‘The song, which one?’ Vas asked a bit confused.

‘The one that sounded like a lullaby.’

‘Oh, you mean Davfid’ s reach.’ Vas replied he looked around and frowned. ‘Leoff, I don’t have my lute to play it.’

‘So, just sing it. It was the most beautiful song I have ever heard, and if I am going to dye today then i want that song ringing in my ears.’ Vas sighed then after clearing his throat sang the song softly, and in Leoff’s mind just as well as the first time he had herd it sung. Leoff didn’t understand the words, it was a Clodden song, but though it was sad there was hope in it to, the hope of one who had known happiness. ‘What is it about?’ he asked when Vas finished braking the silence between them that the end of the song had created, like a grate vacuum between them waiting to be filled with things unsaid between them.

Vas’s dark skin flushed a little, ‘It’s a love song.’ He answered finally but didn’t offer anything more. The silence stretched between them again, a tension, like the tension of a sail under wind. It was time to go. Leoff didn’t believe in good buys, no Nhemian raised did, so he didn’t say anything as he passed Vas on his way out, probably to his own death. But he glanced back over his shoulder at the dark haired man catching his eyes. For some reason it reminded him of looking in to well as a child, the dark was deep and mysterious, the black depths sacred him , but at the same time a apart of him wanted simply to jump down it for the exhilaration of dropping, like flying perhaps, and he wondered how far he would fall. Shaking such useless thoughts out of his head with physical gesture he began to psyche himself up for the fight. It wasn’t over yet, and at least let it be said that he gave them a show during his departure from the world.


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Lord Councillor Giuas’s attention was not on the fighting below but the conversation in the imperial box. Unlike his father the emperor Sargon did not like to mix business and pleasure. In fact he didn’t like business much in general. However if one was careful one could slip idea’s in to his head, and that way come decision making time he came up with your idea as if it was his own, and then all you had to do was praise him for his cleverness. ‘Oh your highness what an excellent idea, a wonder none of us thought of it!’ It was not that the young emperor was stupid, it was that he was lazy, and so as long as you couched the ideas in the right way he would not hesitate to agree, and then he could get back to his harem, and his hobbies leaving the boring day to day business of government to old hands like men like Giuas who had served under his father the old emperor Sargon the twelfth.


Sargon the eleventh and twelfth had been a real hard task masters; the eleventh was involved in nearly every little bit of government always raising taxes for his campaigns against the Hys-b-dry, or the Meiw over the Marchadian Mountains. The war’s had played a harsh tole on some of the noble families, but their loss was another families gain, and so the minor family of Edouard was lifted up to the ranks of the Arcanum. Giaus taking over from his grandfather and father had managed to further his family’s interests with good marriages and remembering that advancement lay with the emperor, he was the fount of all favours worth having.


Lord Edouard now was looking to consolidate his dynasty. But one thing still nagged him, and it was Darcia. Firstly there was an ancient niggle, his grandfather had taken a town that had belonged to his family, apparently because other wise the defensive chain would be broken, he acused the Edouard's, his vassels of incompitance. Sargon the twelth had ignored the Edouard’s pleas for justice, to busy concentrating on his wars, and in time it was forgotten by all by the Edouard’s. But there was a more personal mater, that of lady Cyrus, his bride who was stolen by Darcia’s father. The wound to his pride and his heart had never really healed having this glittering prise tarnished by that black hearted man. Perhaps it would not have been so bad if the Duke had married the lovely ethereal lady Era Cyrus, but he hadn’t casting her off braking the fragile woman’s heart and driving her mad. And now judging by the way the young lord treated his son, Darcia’s son was as high handed as his father was.


All he wanted was to teach the Darcia’s a lesson. It was time to trim the raven’s claws, and clame back his ancestral birth right the small town of Treff that nestled at the base of the western mountains watching over the southern-most pass and perhaps a little bit of compensation, his envious eyes upon Bala. And so it was to this end Giuas had been dropping poisonous words in the emperor’s ears about his over mighty duke. The emperor had long harboured distrust towards his cousin, Darcia was powerful and in his lands he ruled unopposed, only having to pay a tribute to his overlord, any laws passed he could take or leave as he pleased including taxes, on account of needing to use money for defence or so he said. ‘Banqueting more like it.’ Giuas had informed the emperor. However there was no way to curb the duke’s power, but there were ways of frustrating him, not letting him recruit men from the empire as he once had or even hiring mercenaries. ‘After all Lord Darcia the threat from the Meiw has diminished, you should be able to get enough men from your very extensive lands.’ Darcia clever bastard that he was, even at only twenty years old had then started buying criminals and training them as his solders.


Right now all Giuas needed was a spark to set of a political powder keg. Darcia was a volatile man, neither he nor the emperor trusted each other; If only something were to happen to push the strained relationship over the edge and in to rebellion. And if Darcia was like his father he would rebel if he thought himself cornered, it had been a close run thing to a civil war last time when Darcia’s father and the old emperor had come to blows. All he needed now was the right sort of fuse. He looked down; it was the gladiator he had purchased on a whim for his daughter in law. The young man was fending off five men. What a waste he thought, but then he shouldn’t be surprised, what could you expect from a girl who had no concept of what anything cost? She had smashed another priceless antique goblet in an inexplicable fit of temper, this was no different. His son was much the same buying lovely things just to destroy them out of carelessness, or in a show of opulence, look at what I can afford to cast away. It was his folly really for indulging them.


As the fight went on the young gladiator although vastly outnumbered he seemed to be turning the tide. Giuas had once watched a wolf been bated, usually the wolf lost in the end, the pack of dogs overwhelming the poor creature, but once he had seen one brown wolf fight them all off, hound after hound went down under its fangs and claws. The boy fought like that wolf; with a fierce intent to kill and survive he was brutal, ruthless and cunning. When the last man fell to the young man’s blade Giuas thought that his daughter in law had perhaps chosen better than he had first thought and the final part of his plan fell in to place.

a/n; the last few chapters were a bit slow, but the storm’s about to hit, hopefully this is a good set up ;)