The hour is late when you leave the tavern and begin walking up the hill to the camp of your legion. You stumble, and curse loudly, but there are few in the street to hear you. The wine flowed freely this night, as it has on many nights since your return from Teshka. You are a hero in Ephirum; a Foreign Legionnaire, saviour of the Empire, and soon you will go west and gain yet more glory. But now you must climb the steep slope to your camp, and that is challenging enough for one so full of wine.
As you walk through the silk district a girl steps out from a dark doorway and hails you. You are a handsome boy, she says. It is true - not just flattery from one who seeks your coin. Many women have said it - many women have sought pleasure with you, and not only for profit. Even your comrades tease you, promising that one day an enemy's sword will spoil your face. Well, the Khan's warriors could not do it, at least.
Now the girl has approached you, and you see that she too is beautiful. Not blemished, like so many of her sisters plying their trade in the silk district. Not too old, not gap-toothed, not lame, not grubby, not smelly. If you had not had so much wine you would be suspicious. If you had not had so much wine.
She names her price, but it is a small amount - because you are a hero of Teshka, she says - and she has a room nearby. But still you are not sure. You have had much to drink, you tell her, and you are tired.
She reaches for your sex and finds it, through the cloth of your garment, and you respond as she works her fingers. Of course you will go with her, you both say.
Her room is close - she did not lie - and quickly you are naked on her couch. You are impatient but she bids you slow down. Unusual, that, for a girl in her trade. But by now you are not troubled, made careless by wine and lust. You do not even notice as the door opens softly behind you.
You struggle hard, but there are three of them, and they have a sack over your head before you can even raise yourself from the girl. You who have faced the enemies of the Empire in battle, now overpowered and bound by thugs from the back streets of Ephirum. The shame!
The men talk, congratulating themselves and asking after a cart as you lie there, wishing you could see them. But then something happens. There is some violence in the room. The girl screams loudly in the commotion, and a body lands heavily across your legs. There is the sound of blows, of threats, and then, eventually, the room becomes still. The sack is pulled from your head and you see that there are now many men there - more than you can count. They are the Serif's men, most of them, and now it is your attackers that are being bound as the naked girl crouches in the corner, crying and shaking.
There is laughter now, friendly hands on your shoulders, and the rope around your wrists and ankles is untied. If only you knew what these ruffians had in store for you, they say, and you are offered a flask to sip from.
Your attackers are hauled to their feet. Which of the three is the slaver Musa, they are asked. They make no reply, which seems to please the Serif's men. You expect they will answer soon enough.
The men are leaving now, with their prisoners. Bring the girl, they say, she is part of this! You stand finally and speak - the first time you have opened your mouth. You have paid for a service, you say, and you intend to be satisfied. There are roars of laughter and hands clap you on the back. What fine sport! It is true what they say about the men of the Foreign Legion. They will wait outside the door, but bid you be quick. As the door closes you go to the trembling girl and, grasping her by the hair, you move her to the couch.
****
The Emperor was tireless that winter and early spring, as he made his plans for the campaign in the west. On many days he would sit with the great general Hashmin at the palace, and they would call for the leaders of legions and the admirals of fleets to come to them. Each was given a part to play, a goal to meet. For he was meticulous, this Emperor; made all the more so by recent events at Teshka. He had underestimated his enemy, but it would not happen again. And this was a man who well understood the meaning of conquest and the nature of empires - how they rise and how they fall. And so, with military preparations well in hand, he turned his thoughts to the spoils of conquest; land, gold and slaves. For why does an empire expand, reader? For the glory of its emperor? Well, perhaps some do - they appear and then they are gone; a footnote in history. But others have lasted for a thousand years.
When the Emperor finally summoned Lady Beshara, she sat bored and impatient, listening to her brother as he spoke of these things.
"My sister, to what do we owe the grandeur of Ephirum? To gold and land taken from conquered kingdoms? Well, a little perhaps. But what of the labor in building roads, palaces, ports, walls? What of the labor in our mines and quarries? On our ships? Beshara, I well understand the importance of this human resource to the prosperity and stability of the Empire, and you have proved to be a most efficient provider. But now the citizens demand yet more. In their ignorance they fail to see their privilege; the advantages of battles fought so far from their view, the benefits gained from the labor of slaves in places they themselves would never go. They are fools, Beshara, but to educate them is more tiresome than to satisfy their cravings, their greed, their lust. With the conquest of the west, we must bring slaves to our people, my sister, to benefit their everyday lives. To make their modest enterprises more successful, their days and nights easier, more pleasurable. And not just for our most wealthy citizens. I know you already provide for those."
With his final sentence, the Emperor glared at Beshara, but she showed no emotion at his words. Instead she turned her head to the door, for it had been thrown open and there stood her niece Kailyn, agitated, distressed, tears streaming down her face.
"They are gone! My boys! They are gone!"
