Several long seconds passed as Kamran stared at Leon, his midnight-black eyes boring holes into Leon’s disguised face, to the point that Leon had to suppress the urge to fidget and check his disguise bracelet.
Then, Kamran straightforwardly asked, “Do I make you nervous, Kyron?”
Leon’s cheek twitched as he fought off the instinct to scowl. His heart was hammering his ribs and his fingers were twitching, while his thoughts drifted back to Iron Pride. He wondered if he was quick enough to draw and plunge the blade into Kamran’s chest right there…
But, with Cassandra’s fingers tight around his elbow, he forced himself back under control.
“Yes,” he answered honestly, though not as honestly as he could have been. “How can a man not be nervous when speaking with an Anax? Especially one of your stature?”
“Smooth voice for a nervous man,” Kamran stated.
“Lots of practice speaking to those above my station.”
A hiss escaped Kamran’s lips—a strange sort of chuckle that set Leon’s hair standing on end. “There is no substitute for experience,” Kamran observed. “I could be skittish when I was younger, too. Will I have to reiterate what we’ve already gone over?”
“You’ve made it clear how all under your roof are also under your protection.”
“Not all, but close enough for us.” Kamran smiled, his eyes bouncing slowly between Leon, Cassandra, and Nestor, the latter two remaining utterly silent. “I suppose you are not looking to throw yourself at my ward?” A question lightly asked, but Leon recognized the iron beneath the silk.
“I do not wish to offend anyone,” he said. “Least of all, my wife.” He rested his other hand over Cassandra’s as her fingers tightened on his arm.
“I might have him gelded if he were to try,” Cassandra added with less sarcasm than Leon had been expecting. “But I hope Lady Ariana does not take offense; she is ravishing in all ways that matter.”
Kamran smiled proudly, the teasing hint he’d been wearing fading as his eyes turned back to Ariana, now dancing to a faster beat with Johan. She wore a polite smile, but from where he stood, Leon wasn’t getting any impression that she was all that interested in her fifteenth-tier partner.
“Ah, it’s always a difficult thing to watch those you’ve raised grow up,” Kamran said wistfully.
The skin around Leon’s eyes tightened, and he replied more stiffly than he’d intended, “I hope to experience it myself, upon a day.” He shared a look with Cassandra, and when he turned back to Kamran, he found the man watching him sympathetically.
“May we all,” the Anax said. “The only woman I’ve ever had much interest in died long ago. Despite a profligate youth, I was never blessed with children that I could call my own. I wish you and your wife greater luck than I ever had.”
“Thank you,” Leon replied, the words coming pleasantly enough, but tasting like bile upon his tongue.
“Now,” Kamran continued as he turned away from the dance floor and regarded Nestor fully. “How exactly did you come to inhabit this body, Rosten?”
“A long, boring story,” Nestor said.
A moment passed, and as it stretched, Kamran said expectantly, “I am not one who lacks for time; I would like to hear your story…”
Nestor grunted metallically, the echo sounding almost soothing. “Mm. To summarize, then. My family and I embarked upon a risky endeavor, and it did not pay off. We did not recognize the danger, and it ended with my father dead, my brothers dead, and my sister dead. I alone remain, and I lived only because I am an enchanter of some meager skill and had in my possession a gem that I had tinkered with. In my dying moments, my body ravaged by poison, I was able to transfer my magic body into the gem, and it protected me from then on. Kyron here found me, and with his help, I was able to adapt myself into this form.”
“You’re saying that you built your body yourself?” Kamran asked, his lips widening with delight.
“Yes,” Nestor shamelessly admitted.
“Do you mind if I inspect your body more closely?” Kamran asked before almost immediately afterward catching himself. “I do not wish to pry…” Despite his words, the way his eyes narrowed made it clear what answer he expected. Leon didn’t know what might happen if he did not get his way, but his mind turned once again to the sword sparking in his soul realm, eager to tear through his soul realm and reach his hand.
“This is hardly the time for it,” Nestor deflected. “Perhaps one day, when we are not surrounded by so many others who might pass judgment.”
Kamran stroked his trimmed beard. “One day, then. You live in Antiochus, correct?”
“Close enough to it,” Nestor lied.
“Then I will send for you sometime in the coming years. While I am an enchanter by choice, I have, to my great regret, neglected the arts of golem smithing in favor of studying the ancient runes. But seeing the beauty of your form, I’ll admit, is enough for me to feel some measure of doubt for my choice.”
“You are an Anax,” Nestor stated. “Surely you have skilled golem smiths in your employ who could build whatever you need?”
“Several teams of slaves,” Kamran acknowledged. “Their work could be better, though.”
Leon’s eye twitched. He opened his mouth to say something, but he caught himself. Kamran, however, noticed his reaction and turned to face him.
“Have you something to say, Kyron?” There was an edge to his tone that suggested danger, but where that danger was, Leon couldn’t tell. It could be a subtle warning not to disagree with Kamran, or a demand from a fifteenth-tier Anax to speak his mind.
Deciding to go with the latter, Leon said, “Slavery is an abhorrent practice.” He glanced around the hall, counting the dozens of slaves lined up against the wall, their clothes scarce, their beauty abundant, and the magical collars that seemed tattooed on their necks shining. Not a single one looked happy, though he also couldn’t read any emotions in any of their expressions—every one of them looked like a statue made of flesh and bone for all the life they showed.
Kamran chuckled softly and humorlessly. “Bold of you to say so in my hall.”
Leon returned his gaze, meeting the man’s eyes so directly that surprise flashed through Kamran’s eyes at his boldness. “I was going to keep it to myself,” Leon admitted. “You ordered me to speak.”
A glare was his only response for several seconds as Kamran visibly weighed his options, staring so deeply at Leon that Leon almost expected his disguise to fail just for sheer dramatic effect. Thankfully, it remained active despite how his skin seemed to burn under the weight of Kamran’s vicious stare.
“So I did…” Kamran eventually said. With a dagger-thin smile, he said, “When I finish Halbast and Auset, I will come to Antiochus. I will expect you there to meet me. If you are so against this practice, I will have you show me around your city’s slave pits and gladiator arenas. I will be interested in hearing how you defend the practice that your own city partakes in…”
“I won’t defend it,” Leon stated without hesitation. “I own no slaves. I do not support slavers. I am no hypocrite.” He stole a glance at Cassandra, who was smiling knowingly at him. “Not in this matter, at least,” he added, to which his wife gave a few suppressed giggles.
Kamran, however, was less amused. “I’m tempted not to wait until the war is over…” he mused aloud. “What is it about honorable labor that you find so abhorrent, Kyron?”
“Need my reasons be listed?” Leon replied. “They are quite numerous…”
“Then you’ll have no trouble answering,” Kamran curtly stated. “Pick one to start, and I will show you the error of your ways.”
Leon took a deep, steadying breath, and silently asked himself how much this exchange was worth. He had no interest in debating such philosophy with Kamran, but on the other hand, it was a convenient way to keep the man’s focus on Leon instead of on Ariana. He could see Justin getting closer to his wife, though by this point, she’d moved on from Johan to Anurak and looked much happier for it. The crowd around her had thinned greatly, but Leon could see that many others were still eyeing Ariana even while moving with their other partners. Dozens of Lords were just waiting for a chance to jump in, and given their power, he thought it might be a while before Justin might get his chance to hold his wife again.
Plus, as much as his tongue wanted to rebel against him for even sharing a single word with Kamran, there was a part of him that wanted to tear down everything that Kamran held dear, verbally and otherwise.
“A chained man works less efficiently than a free one,” Leon said.
Smiling as if his trap had been sprung, Kamran replied, “An interesting perspective. I wonder at your philosophy of rule, then, Kyron. Tell me: how would you judge a man who has failed a task assigned to him? Is it his fault alone, or does his leader bear responsibility?”
Leon could already see where Kamran was taking this line of questioning. “A leader always bears some responsibility for the actions of those beneath him, but it is also his responsibility to match his subordinates with the tasks they’re given. A leader should be wise enough to understand that a slave is no great worker in any circumstances.”
“A slave will work as directed,” Kamran argued didactically, his words coming slowly, as if he were educating a child. “They are no different from any man or woman; only, their lives belong wholly to their betters. As the slave is property, they reflect on their master, and if they are inefficient or ineffective, then it is because their master has failed to properly motivate them to complete a task. To argue that a slave is less efficient is simple ignorance.”
“How is a slave to be motivated?” Leon asked.
“By the same means that any free man is motivated,” Kamran said, smiling pointedly. “By the purse, by the heart, or by the lash.”
“If they are no different, then why place them in chains at all?”
“So that they never forget their place. The weak belong to the strong. Power decides all. Those who pretend otherwise only delude themselves. Placing the weak in chains to serve the strong is no different from not doing so, but it does away with the pretense and motivates those in chains to better themselves to one day become strong. In this way, everyone benefits—the strong gain the service of the weak, while the weak are given purpose that might otherwise be squandered.”
“And you believe they’ll never rebel?” Leon asked.
“The weak always rebel, whether in chains or not,” Kamran riposted. “And in my experience, those in chains rebel less often, as they are more aware of their place in the universe.”
The Anax paused a moment, a wan smile crossing his face as he let his eyes wander Leon’s form. “I can see you are unconvinced. I am no cruel master, I’ll have you know—though as a good and loyal man of Antiochus, you surely know that by now.”
“What if I don’t?” A stupid question, one that provoked needlessly, but Leon couldn’t help himself. As strong as Kamran was, he and Leon were technically of the same rank, socially speaking, and though disguised, Leon was not going to roll over for the man who ordered the death of his father.
“You believe yourself a free man,” Kamran said. “You are not; your life belongs not to you, but to me, as I am your Lord, your better, stronger than you by uncountable orders of magnitude. What ‘freedom’ you believe you possess is an illusion, and yet I am so generous that you have believed yourself free, the master of your own life. Perhaps you will learn your place if you had a chain of your own.”
“I am no slave,” Leon said, echoing Nestor’s earlier statement. He could feel Cassandra tensing, her body readying for violence. Nestor, likewise, subtly closed ranks with Leon, ready just in case Kamran tried to follow through on that threat.
“Nor am I tempted to make you one,” Kamran said, unmoved apparently by the show of solidarity from Leon’s wife and many-times-great uncle.
They stared at each other for so long that all the universe felt like it could’ve fit within the silence, though it only lasted in reality a couple seconds.
“But in the end,” Kamran finally pressed on, breaking their little staring contest in favor of grabbing a golden chalice filled with some blood-red wine from the adjacent table, “I am interested in golems so that I can cut down on human labor. Given your… thoughts on the subject, I would imagine that you would be only too happy to help me. The more golems I have, after all, the fewer slaves I need. Is that not a good thing? A worthy goal according to your philosophy?”
“I’d imagine golems would never replace labor entirely,” Leon said, speaking from experience. Though Nestor’s labor golems were doing the majority of the mining and much of the construction in his Kingdom, that was more due to lack of labor rather than lack of jobs. If he had a million more human miners looking for work, then a million more humans would he have working in mines. “Only expand existing industries.”
“That will depend entirely on how well golem manufacturing can be scaled,” Kamran said. “My Lords are diligent in paying their wisp taxes. I could scale up golem production quite easily.”
Leon didn’t press that particular issue. Kamran’s claim didn’t convince him, not when there was an entire universe full of resources out there, and there wasn’t any pool of labor great enough to harvest all that could be harvested. Golems would only ever be supplementary to human labor, whether chained or free.
“Nothing more to say?” Kamran asked triumphantly, though Leon had to assume that he knew that Leon was choosing not to respond, not that he was left speechless. “I’ll admit, Kyron, that you’ve surprised me. It’s not often that I find a seventh-tier mage with so loose a tongue in my presence.” He cast his black gaze over his shoulder, and Leon knew that he leveled that gaze upon Justin. “Especially,” Kamran continued as he turned his eyes back to Leon, “when a mage is part of a party with a more powerful mage…”
“Nathaniel,” Leon said, using Justin’s disguised name, “isn’t as bold as I am; that much is certain. Though he is bold enough in most things, I believe that he is more than happy to leave it to me to speak on our party’s behalf.”
“He is a negligent fool, then,” Kamran spat. “I have half a mind to throw him out of my palace for such a dereliction of duty. Though I have allowed my ward to choose who she would dance with and who she would prefer to marry, I admit that I would consider that stance again if she were to try and choose ‘Nathaniel’.” His lips curled upward, but there was neither light nor joy in the expression. “If,” he viciously added. “I can’t imagine that such a smart girl would ever choose a man so irresponsible, who abdicates his duty as the strongest of his party to a weaker man. She deserves a man strong enough to protect her, strong enough that she can take pride in being his wife and the mother of his children.”
As much as Leon disliked Justin, even he felt the urge to defend the man, if only out of sheer spite. Leon almost laughed to himself, remembering how the Jaguar had once said that he could have claimed the sky as blue, only to have certain elders in his Tribe or in others drag him out at sunset or midnight to witness the red or black sky. Leon understood those recalcitrant elders just a little bit more now, as he found that even agreeing with Kamran about the color of the sky would’ve felt wrong to him.
“Overconfidence can be dangerous,” Leon noted. “But you know your ward far better than I. She might make a decision you expect.” He snuck a sharp look at the Anax out of the corner of his eye. “Or she might not.”
He, personally, thought that Justin’s chances were good. As the man himself said, Ariana had chosen him once before. It would certainly make everything much easier if she repeated that debatable mistake.
“We will see,” Kamran said, giving Leon a toothy grin that didn’t reach his eyes.
Their conversation ended there, with Kamran walking away without another word. Leon exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, grateful that it seemed that even under the Anax’s increased scrutiny, his disguise bracelet had held out. However, he could feel a tremor in the metal, a sign that containing his power was beginning to warp its inner structure. He guessed that he had three hours at the most before he’d have to replace it.
He could do so, but he hoped that he and his party would be gone by then. There wasn’t much he could do to speed that along at this point, however, so he simply watched the dance, trying to urge Justin to get bolder and hurry up with his gaze alone. It was only when Cassandra dragged him out to share a few dances that he finally averted his gaze, though his attention remained fixed.
In that time, his Paladins began returning to the hall, their short scouting missions complete. Once Leon and Cassandra’s time on the dance floor ended, he’d hear what their options for escape were, though if Justin was successful, they might not be needed.
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