πŸ“š the spy in chains Part 1 of 4
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The Spy In Chains Ch 01

The Spy In Chains Ch 01

by typotales
20 min read
4.6 (15300 views)
adultfiction

Despite the months spent here, I was still in awe at the bustling streets of CormΓ©liane. People from all over the world were walking past each other, snippets of conversations in a hundred different tongues could be heard at every corner.

I was strolling down a hill at the center of the peninsula, moving toward the waterfront. The scent of sea salt mingled with spices and smoked meats from the stalls lining the street. Between the tightly packed buildings, I caught glimmers of sunlight reflecting off the harbor.

Yet, marring the city's vibrant spectacle, was the omnipresence of the slaves. Beside me a young woman, her breasts bared, was lugging around a basket full of laundry. Further down the street, a few men were unloading a cart into a shop, their sweaty skin glistening.

Here, all slaves were forbidden from wearing anything above the waist, save for the steel collars that marked them as indentured laborers. Each time my gaze fell upon them, a surge of discomfort mixed with determination.

I reminded myself of my purpose here, of my duty as an Imperial Agent of the Magisterium. Every piece of information I gathered would bring the laws of the Empire one step closer to applying to all who lived on the so-called Free Coast.

A small smile grew on my face as I thought of my parents back in the capital. If they could see their daughter now, hidden beneath a burlap cowl, dressed in the rough, practical clothing of a Coastal. My red hair was tucked away, and my frame obscured.

To anyone passing by, I was just a young man on an unimportant errand. No one would guess that beneath this simple disguise was a trained Imperial Mage.

I finally reached the docks, weaving through the busy crowds as I darted toward the spot where my new source had arranged to meet. The air here was thick with the scent of brine, tar, and fish, and the shouts of sailors mingled with the creak of ships.

Most of my days were spent as "Lucia," a Provincial mage learning Contract Magic under the tutelage of Master Otto.

But Lucia had no business in this part of town. This was Elena's domain, the domain of an Agent of the Emperor. The familiar swell of pride filled my chest at the thought, putting an extra spring in my steps.

I soon entered the tavern. The air inside was thick with smoke, strong spirits,and the scents of sweat and roasted meat. Hushed conversations filled the dimly lit room, blending with the crackle of the fire in the hearth. Despite its roughness, the tavern had a warm, almost cozy glow, as shadows flickered over the worn wooden walls.

Behind the counter a heavyset older woman offered an inviting smile, wordlessly welcoming me. I sat at the back of the hall, letting the atmosphere settle over me, a far cry from my previous life.

But my comfort quickly faded as a slave girl approached to take my order, dressed in nothing but a thin, draped skirt. Her shoulders were bare, and her harsh steel collar caught the light. Any joy I felt was tempered by the reminder of just how far we were from the Empire's justice.

I took small sips from my beer, enjoying the bitterness, as I scanned the room. It didn't take long to spot the man I was here to meet. Where I looked unassuming, Radwig seemed to revel in drawing attention; a dagger rested prominently at his belt, and a glint in his eye suggested a taste for trouble.

His gaze found me, and with a lazy, deliberate stride, he sauntered over, his attention lingering far too long on the exposed curves of the poor slave girl. The hint of a smirk crossed his lips as he looked her over, giving me an uneasy feeling.

"Lucia," he greeted in a sugary tone, sliding right next to me on the bench. "Fancy meeting you here."

But I was in no mood for jests.

"Cut the crap Radwig." My dry words, wrapped in my best Provincial accent, weathered his sultry smile. "Do you have what I asked you for?"

He cast a quick, exaggerated look around the room, as if he couldn't resist playing the part of the mysterious informant. I cringed inwardly, feeling the unwanted attention his theatrics brought our way.

"Of course," he replied smoothly, leaning in too close. "But it won't be cheap."

"I'm good for it," I said, voice low. "Now, let me see."

From the bag he had set down between his legs, he pulled out a small leather pouch, which he dropped unceremoniously on the table.

"Here you go." As my hand reached for the pouch, he suddenly slung an arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer against his chest. A waft of stale beer and sweat hit me, and I bit back a grimace. Every instinct screamed at me to pull away, but I forced myself to stay still. I'd spent weeks tracking him down, and if indulging him was the cost, I'd bear it, for now at least.

I loosened the pouch's string and opened it, revealing a smooth brown powder that released a warm, earthy aroma. The scent was surprisingly pleasant, with a faint bitter undertone that rounded out into a rich, almost intoxicating mix.

Like any mage, I had heard of coffee before. But it was rare, more a myth than anything else, and as I took in the smell, a wave of cold apprehension settled over me. It was as if a sense I hadn't realized I depended on had dulled, leaving me off-balance. The effect was disorienting, impossible to ignore.

"Grounded coffee beans," Radwig's voice was full of bravado, probably from the effect his sample was already having on me. "Fresh from across the ocean."

I looked up at him, fighting the odd sensation that dulled my senses and prickled my skin.

"Could you show me where you got them?"

His lecherous smile returned, his eyes lingering far too long, and I could feel his grip tighten on my shoulder. He had no magical affinity, so he was immune to the disorienting influence pulsing from the pouch on the table.

"There's plenty I could show you, little girl."His tone dripped with suggestion, his gaze brazen, as though challenging me to flinch.

Despite myself, I felt a flush rising to my cheeks. I'd hoped it wouldn't come to this, that my magic, my training, or the funds I had at my disposal would be enough to get what I needed. But it was becoming painfully clear that Radwig had his own price, one he wasn't shy about naming.

Just then, the door of the tavern flew open, letting in sunlight, fresh air and three armored Municipal Guards. Against me, my companion stiffened, his arm letting go of my slim body. His other hand was fiddling restlessly on the pommel of his dagger. I hoped he wouldn't do anything stupid.

The three men were talking with the affable older woman behind the counter, and as Radwig's attention was on them, I seized the moment. In a swift, practiced movement, I swiped the pouch from the table and tucked it into my corsage under the cowl, careful to keep my expression unchanged.

But suddenly, the woman behind the counter pointed in our direction. I froze, and in the same instant, Radwig leapt to his feet. He made a mad dash toward the window opposite our table, vaulting over chairs, scrambling across tables, and ducking between startled patrons.

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Just as he braced himself to dive through the stained glass, a loud, bone-cracking sound split the air. My breath hitched, and in a blur, his body jerked back, changing direction midair before slamming into the far wall.

A crossbow bolt protruded from his chest, its feathering bright against the fabric of his white shirt, where a dark red stain spread like spilled ink. Radwig's eyes were wide, frozen in shock, his expression somehow still intact even as his life bled out around the wound. The expert shot had pinned him upright against the wall, the weight of his body holding him still.

A chill crept over me, rooting me to the spot. The tavern had fallen silent, every eye fixed on the grim tableau as the last traces of motion left his body. It was the first time I'd seen someone killed, and I couldn't tear my gaze from the blood seeping into his clothes.

Rough hands seized my arms, jerking me back to reality. The two guards pulled me to my feet, their grips bruising and unyielding, while the third, the one with the crossbow slung across his back, rummaged through Radwig's bag on the ground. He pulled out a second, larger pouch, its top slightly open.

"Crap," I thought, watching in horror as he opened it. Inside, I glimpsed raw, unprocessed coffee beans, dark and unmistakable. The idiot had brought his entire stash with him?

The burly guard looked up from his crouch, a cruel smirk twisting his face.

"You're fucked boy." His voice was full of derision, cutting through the silent room, every patron looking straight at me, and the two men holding my arms chuckled at his words. In the corner of my eyes, I could see the terrified slave girl trying to hide behind a table.

Panic surged within me, but I forced a deep breath, centering my thoughts. I had one chance.

I threw my focus backward, and the two guards flew off their feet, slamming into the wall with a sickening thud. I turned to the third guard, ready to dispatch him. But before I could react, he'd already flung a fistful of coffee beans at me, only betrayed by the clinking of his armor.

An overpowering dullness engulfed me, more intense than I'd expected. My knees buckled, and I fell, vision blurring as I clawed at my face, desperate to brush away the dreaded substance. I must have been a pitiful sight, still half-blinded, as the butt of the crossbow came down hard on the back of my head.

===

The metallic taste of blood welcomed my mind back to my body. I was being held from under my arms, my knees dragging helplessly across a cold stone floor. Slowly my vision cleared, and I became acutely aware of the tight, icy silver shackles digging into my wrists. I would not be using magic anytime soon.

The steps of my captors came in as a quick succession, as they followed the guard with the crossbow. I tried to get back on my feet, but they were going to fast for my numb body, a lancing ache splitting my skull.

The man who had killed Radwig opened a metal door and gestured his companions in, shooting me an amused glance as we passed him. I was tossed to the ground, causing me to let out a pained groan.

We were in a bare, damp cell, a collection of chains hanging from the ceiling, empty save from a small wooden table near the door. It did not presage anything good for me.

"He's coming back." One voice said behind me.

"Watch it, the little shit nearly threw out my back." Another grumbled back. Despite the pain and fear knotting my gut, his complaint sparked a flicker of satisfaction.

"Focus," came a sharper voice, cutting through their chatter. "We need to search him."

I was pulled back to my feet, the shackles around my wrists hooked to one of the chains hanging from the ceiling. The killer had brought a chair and was sitting at the table, his crossbow resting on it.

He watched me with sharp, calculating eyes, a glint of caution behind his calm stare. He might have me chained, but something about me still unnerved him. He tossed large metallic scissors to one of his goons. While the last man was pulling on the chain, painfully stretching my arms, forcing me on my toes, before securing it to the wall.

"Get rid of his rags."

The underling grunted, roughly tugging on my cowl. Almost immediately my long red hair spilled out from under it, spreading over the corsage that was hidden under the burlap until then.

"It's a girl!" The guard holding the cloth in his hand had recoiled in surprise. The one sitting at the table now had a dark smile on, his eyes gleaming with renewed interest.

But the third guard didn't wait for his companion's surprise to wear off. His fingers curled under the hem of my shirt on either side of my chest, rough and cruel, and in one sharp movement, he tore it open, cutting through multiple layers of fabric. Buttons scattered across the cell, clinking as they hit stone, my shirt shredded and hanging in tatters around me.

A rush of cold air hit my skin, and terror ran through me, tightening my throat. My bare breasts were now exposed to their eyes, their pale flesh flushing with heat under the hungry gaze of my captors.

The two men were now frantically taking the rest of my clothes off. One cut the remnants of my shirt and corsage with the scissors, while the other tugged on my boots. I could have kicked and bucked, but I was too scared of being hit or cut.

My eyes were stuck on the handsome features of the killer, his gaze was moving up and down my body, a smile curling his lips as he watched his men expose me.

Despite their clear lust, the two guards still remembered their duty. One of them had picked up my leather corsage and was patting it down.His fingers found the hidden pocket, and with a triumphant gleam in his eye, he pulled out the small pouch I had swiped earlier.

"Boss, I found another one!"

He tossed it across the room, and the killer caught it with a flick of his wrist. He opened it, inspecting the contents with a look of satisfaction.

"This little girl is going to spend the rest of her life scrubbing floors with a collar around her neck, boys," he announced his voice thick with amusement, in complete control of the other men.

A cold shudder ran through me. Coffee was an existential threat to the slavers of the Free Coast. I knew how justice worked in CormΓ©liane. If I was not rescued soon I would be bound by a magical contract. I would be a slave.

The two men knelt in front of me, and my toes barely brushed the ground as my shoulders strained against the chains above. They tugged at my trousers, struggling to work them over the curve of my hips. My body was tense, every muscle taut with dread, I was helpless to stop them.

With a final, harsh yank, they pulled the fabric down to my knees, exposing me fully. The red nest of curls between my legs was laid bare, a sight I had never shown anyone.

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My mind went blank. The last person to see me naked had been my mother, years ago when I was a child, to bathe me. And now I was exposed, defenseless, before three men who looked at me with dark intent. This couldn't be real. It couldn't be happening.

One of the goons had gotten back to his feet, his hand was already moving toward my crotch. But a sharp clearing of the throat halted him.

"If she's intact, her cunt is worth more than you'll make in your entire life."

The killer's voice was calm, but his hand gripped the handle of his loaded crossbow, fingers tight. He wasn't just watching me anymore. He was keeping his men in check, authority radiating from him as his gaze swept over them.

The guard grunted, reluctant but obedient, pulling his hand back slowly, though his eyes lingered on my exposed body, taking in every vulnerable inch stretched before him.

"Why don't you two go notify the judge." His words sounded like suggestions, but his voice carried the violence of a man who had already killed today. "I'll get some more information out of our guest."

With one last glance, the guards left, slamming the metal door behind them. I couldn't decide if I should feel relieved or terrified, knowing I was alone now with the chiseled killer.

He stood up slowly, leaving his crossbow behind, and removed his cuirass, setting it carefully on the chair. Beneath, he wore a leather jerkin that hugged his powerful frame. As he walked toward me, his gaze locked on mine, unwavering.

I was shivering, though the cell wasn't particularly cold. It was his shifting demeanor, calm one moment, predatory the next, that sent an icy tremor through me. He wasn't especially tall, but his arms, thick as my torso, made him impossibly menacing as he moved behind me, one hand settling on my hip with a firm, unyielding grip.

"So, who are you exactly?"

"My name is Lucia," I replied, my heart racing as my training finally kicked in. I couldn't afford to let anything slip, speaking in an Imperial accent now would dig me into an even deeper grave. Instead, I layered my voice with the familiar lilt of the Provincial dialect, just like my mother used to speak. "I'm an apprentice with Master Otto."

"Hmm... I know the old geezer," he said, his voice thick with a mix of amusement and disdain. "He won't be pleased to hear one of his whelps ended up down here."

It made sense, as a contract mage, the tutor of my cover persona often worked with the Municipal Guard.

"And how come you had so much coffee on you, uh?"

"It wasn't mine," I was playing the part of a scared daughter from a good family. And at this moment, I did not have to put on much of an act. "The man you killed was trying to sell it to me, but I had no idea what it was."

His hand moved abruptly, fingers closing around my stiffened pink nipple. Before I could even think to pull away, he twisted it cruelly. A muffled scream caught in my throat as his other hand clamped over my mouth, pressing me back against his chest.

"Try again."

Tears stung my eyes, my breaths coming in shuddering gasps. The pain wasn't overwhelming, but the shame, the humiliation, was making me feel small, like a helpless child instead of a trained Agent of the Magisterium.

"I only wanted to buy the small pouch." I was finally able to say between two sobs. "I was curious, but the rest wasn't mine."

He was now running his hand all over my belly and throat, in a strangely soothing manner. Letting me catch my breath before pressing me further.

"Too bad your idiot accomplice got himself killed." His voice sounded genuinely sad for me, but his words were terrifying. He was discharging the responsibility of his murder on Radwig, his victim. "Now the judge is going to put the entire stash on you."

His fingers were now softly stroking the hair between my legs, leaving me frozen with fear. Rather than the intrusion I was expecting, he spun me around, making me lose my footing, only held upright by his strong arms.

For a moment, our eyes met. His gaze amused and predatory, while I felt raw and exposed. But he bent down, pulling the nipple he had abused into his mouth, running his tongue over it. The wet touch sent a jolt of disgust through my body, but I could not tear my eyes away from the spectacle of my small breast's flesh stretching between his lips.

After what felt like an eternity, he let go, releasing me to slump back into the bindings, my shoulders aching as my feet swung uselessly, rubbing against the hard floor.

"You need to toughen up, love," he murmured, already turning away, dismissing me as if I were nothing. Hanging there I could feel the weight of my helplessness.

Then, without warning, he released the chain. My body dropped, hitting the cold stone with a jarring thud. A sharp sting spread across my hip and shoulders as I curled instinctively, the chill of the floor seeping into my skin.

He took a final, unhurried look at my naked form, bunched together and vulnerable at his feet.

"You're in for a hard few days," he said, his tone indifferent.

With that he left the room too, leaving me alone and discarded in the dark.

===

A slave had brought a small cot and a basin of water, but apart from that, I'd been left alone. Time was impossible to track here; the cell had no window, only the solid door sealing me in darkness.

At some point, another slave, a man this time, slid in with bread and hard cheese, but even through the pangs of hunger, I waited for him to leave before moving to pick it up, unwilling to expose my bare body to another set of eyes.

Alone in the dark my mind was running wild. Would the other Imperial Agents in the city even hear of what had happened to me? Would I really have to spend my life as a slave in CormΓ©liane?

I'd studied Contract Magic enough to understand the horror of my situation: only my owner could release me. If a Coastal bought me, the chances of freedom were practically nonexistent. And with slavery banned in the Empire, no loyal citizen would even be able to acquire me and rescue me from this fate. The thought caused my chest to tighten as my mind grappled with the bleakness of my future.

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