[quote=@Odin]
Ketill had rested, mostly, after his talk with Basim. The boys presence alone had surprised him more than enough to last the rest of his stay at the healer, and his wound had not left him with space to occupy the mind with labour, so he was forced to rethink the conversation quite a few times. He wondered, had he perhaps told the boy too much? Had his pride prevented him from shutting his mouth like a good slave would’ve? Perhaps. But Basim seemed to already distrust the ‘truth’ spread by Najla and Osman. Perhaps the boy was used to the discrepancies between Najla’s stories and the truth. Had that been why he chased Ketill’s answer? 

These thoughts lingered in his head for the next period, and he lost track of the days as he, somewhat lazily, hung around the healer’s quarters. Most of the patients were other slaves, that had been beaten a bit too hard or dealt with some qualm that was easily solvable. Most of the royals, obviously, would not visit the healer but would rather have them come to their quarters. Ketill was one of the few that stayed for more than a single day, seemingly a privilege earned him both by his master being Najla, as well as him being somewhat infamous. Perhaps none had dared tell him to leave the healers rooms?

Regardless, one day he was finally called. Two guards appeared in the healers office, and enquired about his ability to go on and work. <[i]“He’s been well for a few days now, but none came to retrieve him, and he did not return himself, so I figured…”[/i]> He wasn’t able to finish his sentence as the guards grabbed Ketill by the arms and guided him out of the quarters again. It seemed to be a reoccurring theme at this point, what with Ketill being dragged out into the sun numerous times previously. At first, he had been dragged out to the sun to be beaten by Najla’s cousin, then to be whipped by her fiancé, so it would be natural that Ketill assumed he was to be punished for another imagined transgression he committed. He braced himself already, but to his surprise he was brought out to the training grounds of the local soldiers and guards. It hadn’t been used much whenever Ketill was around, but he had seen them practice once or twice. They were good – for regulars – but obviously not good enough to fight the Servants. 

He was brought before a familiar face – one he recognized from his lashings. It was a strange sight to see this man before him suddenly, smiling and nodding at him as if nothing had ever happened. He spoke, but not to Ketill, but to a man dressed in similar fashion standing next to him. Ketill felt the piercing of their eyes upon him, their eyes attempting to bore through his face and physique. When they talked, Ketill followed their motions with his eyes, before his eyes followed the stare of Harith, and he found himself looking upon the group of guards and recruits. 

Nothing that Ketill would understand was said between the men, and Ketill just awkwardly stood there. The first time he’d been forced to wait for something he’d felt quite uncomfortable, but by now it was second nature and he simply stood there in the sun, soaking in its warmth. The wound on his back was still quite clearly visible – he did not wear a tunic yet, for fear of the wound reopening and soaking the tunic in blood that would be nigh unwashable. Now that the blood had been cleaned off, it was visible that the whip had left behind some grotesque scars, but due to the skill of the healer, they had healed very well, and left little more than a few straight scars criss-cross across his back. They were merely water in the pond at this point, however.

The cry of a child was somewhat strange given the place they were in, but Ketill had learned that the Sawarim did more strange things than not, and had also learned to stop pondering about those things. Instead, he merely turned his head, looking at Najla. She spoke with the man that Ketill had recognized briefly, but caught Ketill by surprise when she suddenly spoke in Broacienien – she had apparently heard that Basim had visited him. She earned merely a grin from Ketill. Perhaps she had tried to assert that he was in her control, but it was not so. Moreover, Basim was his own man, surely he had a right to do as he pleased. It had been her fault for not spreading the lies convincingly enough, perhaps. Still, Basim did not seem the type of person to spread the truth merely to bother Najla. He seemed like someone that wanted wisdom, and Ketill knew from experience within Broacien that these types of people were often more dangerous than they seemed if they were tutored to be ruthless, as opposed to friendly. 

Harith stood closely with, what Ketill presumed to be his child, and when the child extended his reach to Ketill and nearly touched him, did not move. His father moved swiftly to stop the child, but had the child touched Ketill, he would’ve been safe all the same. Ketill might have been a brute, but he was not a murderer of children merely because they were curious. Besides, it wasn’t like the dots were a holy symbol anymore. Little would be lost by a child’s touch. Where as the old Ketill would’ve politely asked the child not to do that, the ‘new’ Ketill merely looked at the child with the same glance he shot at all the people around him – that of the Bear. Not very friendly, but not overly angry either. A permanent frown, more or less. 

Harith left soon after, taking his child and the other man with him, leaving Najla alone with him. Ketill stared her down, though he knew from experience she did not care about that as much as the others. Osman might’ve been insulted – Najla seemed to be used to Ketill by now. Despite the situation, she still insisted on bossing him around, showing off her supposed superiority. He ignored her attempts at talking him into believing he had earned a punishment, instead looking directly past her at the child she had brought. [i]“Why bring a child to an execution?”[/i] She had yet to explain why he was here, and the large amount of soldiers indicated that he was to be executed. She could not fault him for thinking so, perhaps, but knowing Najla she’d find a way to do so regardless. [i]“And why bring a full garrison to cleave my head?”[/i]
She continued regardless, explaining that she did not need him if he was insistent on killing her husband. Ketill grinned but did not answer. In truth, that was not his intention. Osman was merely a sidepiece to him. An annoying, overly confident man with no skills in Ketill’s eyes, but a man that seemed to hold some importance and therefore found himself thinking rather highly of himself. If anything, Osman was an obstacle. A log on the road, blocking the passage. Apparently the attack had scared him, and Najla, more than enough to warrant a punishment and an attempt to keep the two apart. Ketill did not doubt that he’d not see Osman for some time. She continued and made a confession, that she had never met anyone like him. Perhaps Ketill would’ve been moved, but the wounds on his back reminded him that Najla’s words were always empty. 

Her mention of giving him the world merely caused him to look away from her. [i]“What good is the world in the hands of a slave?”[/i] he asked her, seemingly asking a question but already knowing the answer. ‘Nothing’ was the answer. [i]“When I was your master, did I not give you plentiful? Yet you always desired for more. You, above anyone else, should understand my position. There is nothing I want, except blood. Keep your world – if I want it, I will take it from your hands. But do not fear – I have no need of a world. Merely a sword.”[/i]

The words were not said aggressively but the intent behind them, Ketill was sure, Najla would be able to tell what they were. Regardless of her impressions of the world, she would tell Ketill about what was to occur in the coming weeks and that was that. She turned, and lifted her dress, before marching off. Harith took her place, and stood in front of him with a shit-eating grin. He motioned for the guards to bring Ketill forwards, who guided him a few steps forwards. Another motion ordered a guard to fetch a weapon, while Harith explained to him what was to happen. Surprisingly, the man spoke Broacienien. For a moment, Ketill was confused about the man. He had assumed the man was like Osman – boastful, full of himself, pompous. 

But his attitude said otherwise. Perhaps Harith was a man of the sword after all. Before Ketill could give any reaction, he was handed a hand-axe. It was a simple weapon, nothing fancy, but as Ketill watched the guardsmen and decided that they didn’t have any fancy equipment either. He spun the axe in his hand a few times, figuring out the weight distribution of the weapon rather quickly. The Sawarim axe was slightly different than what he was used to, but it worked. Whatever weapon he was handed, if it cut, it could kill. 

Harith addressed one of the men and told them to come forward, which the man did. A quick glance indicated that the man had a kite shield, not as large as the Broacienien cavalry variant, but large enough to cover from neck to knee. In his other hand he held a famous Sawarim curved blade – the trademark weapon of the more advanced Sawarim soldier. Where the tribesmen and conscripts usually used cheaper weapons, like spears, clubs and shortswords or even knives and farming tools, the regulars used curved blades like these. These scimitars, Ketill knew from experience, were deadly. Extremely fast above all. They did not cut deep like a Broacien blade – they were far too light to have that kind of impact, but the cuts they made were deep enough to cause problems if they were placed in important places like the neck. That wouldn’t be as dangerous if the blades were slower, but the speed at which you could swing this light blade meant that you had to be on your toes at all times. 

Had Ketill been given a shield, the fight would’ve been simple – block the sword a few times and then counter attack, but now Ketill had to be even more careful. 

As the two stepped closer to each other the tension was clear. Ketill was calm and collected, didn’t even seem to break a sweat at the thought of the fight. The guard however was clearly tense, and had a focused and angry look on his face. Anger was good, in a fight, but when it was combined with fear, that was when it became dangerous. The guard stopped in his tracks and raised his shield once he was comfortable, raising his sword slightly to prepare for an attack. Ketill did not stop, and simply walked on, didn’t even raise his axe to attack. 

The moment he was in reach he raised his axe, and sent it down onto the mans shield. The axe connected with a heavy thud, and it didn’t even seem to do any damage, but before the man could even counter attack, the axe already crushed down on the mans shield again, and again, and again. The shield slowly splintered, a testimony to Ketill’s strength perhaps. When the man finally found an opening to swing the sword, Ketill merely ducked underneath it and moved his feet rapidly – to the trained eye, you could see the similar movements to how a dancer would move her feet. The movements were more rudimentary and rough, but they were very similar. In the same movement, he lowered his axe down to the mans foot, and with a rapid movement hooked the edge of the blade around his ankle. With a swift pull of the axe, he tore the mans foot from the ground and caused him to fall facefirst into the sand.

The guard attempted to roll over and was quickly met with the sight of Ketill jumping on top of him. He raised his axe high, before yelling out; [i]“AUDRUN!”[/i] As he cried out the name of the Allfather, he sent his axe down to the mans head before heaving it up and sending it down again and again. He kept chopping until he was done, and for a moment it would’ve seemed in the flurry of attacks like the man had completely lost his face. But Ketill had controlled himself, and when he got up, it was visible that the man was fine. Visibly afraid, but fine. The axe stood in the sand next to his face, which was apparently where he had chopped. 

Though he lusted for blood, it seemed he was still capable of at the very least listening to orders. As he got off the man he extended his hand for the man to grab, after which he helped him up. He slowly backed off back to the line of soldiers, whom all seemed somewhat impressed with the fight, especially since it had lasted merely fifty seconds or so. Harith slowly walked back, looking at the group of guards. <[i]“Was there anyone else that wanted to test their strength?”[/i]> he asked loudly, though none of the men seemed interested in fighting Ketill now that they had seen first hand what he would do if he was unleashed. It almost seemed like they suddenly realized how Osman had gotten himself into such a predicament. It even made the capture of a Servant that much more wondrous. Harith then turned to Ketill. [i]“Not many understand the meaning of Servant. They thought you were a man.”[/i]

Ketill replied without looking back at him, merely staring down the group in front of him. [i]“Perhaps they were wrong.”[/i]

[i]“In their eyes, they were. I think you are a man. I will show them.”[/i] 

Ketill glanced over at Harith briefly now, as he had not expected a challenge; Basim told him that a royalty fighting a slave was humiliating no matter what. Apparently, Basim had been wrong. Either that, or Harith did not care for appearances. Maybe he was not like Osman after all – maybe he was a warrior. 

[i]“What if I’m no man?”[/i]

[i]“There is no shame in losing to a beast.”[/i]

Ketill looked at the man with a confused expression, and after a few seconds he nodded. The two stepped away from each other then, creating some distance, before a new guard came running at Ketill to hand him a weapon. He bore a new axe as well as a sword, offering either of the two, though to his surprise Ketill waved him away. Perhaps to the surprise of the onlookers and Harith alike too, but Ketill was not worried about that right now. He simply figured that, against a sword, it was best to stay close so that it could not swing at all. What better way to stay close than to fight with your hands. 

Harith and Ketill stared at each other momentarily, before they both gave each other the ‘okay’ by nodding at each other. Harith did not wield a shield, instead simply brandishing his curved sword. So, rather than charging at Harith, Ketill slowly advanced much like Harith did. He merely waited for an opening now, the two of them circling each other like vultures with a prey, until Harith got bored of waiting and stepped forwards. His sword swung horizontally, and Ketill rapidly stepped back, avoiding the swish of the blade narrowly. For a moment Ketill thought about stepping forward but the shimmer of the sun on the blade alarmed him that the blade was coming back. Again he stepped back, the swoosh of the blade audible when it passed. Again Harith swung his blade, but this time Ketill didn’t step backwards.

Instead, he stepped forwards with his right foot and placed his hip against Harith, and with a single movement grabbed a hold of Harith’s sword arm with his left hand, blocking it and the attack with the sword. Using his hip for leverage now, he turned his entire body and swung Harith over his back, sending Harith tumbling over Ketill’s body towards the ground, where he landed with a soft thud and a cloud of sand poofing out from under him. Although Harith had the wind knocked out of him from the throw, he realized what had happened and quickly let go of the sword, preparing to defend himself while catching his breath. 

Ketill quickly swung around, sitting down on top of Harith with his knees on either side of him, his right fist in the air while his left held on to Harith’s arm. His fist moved down and almost hit Harith in the face, but was blocked just in time by Harith moving his free arm up and swooping the fist out of its’ trajectory. His coughing and pained expression were enough to give away that he was having a hard time catching his breath with Ketill sitting on top of him, but somehow he managed to reach for Ketill’s neck. His hand grasped at his chest first, slowly clawing its way to his neck before grabbing Ketill by the throat. Pooling all his strength, Harith turned over and rolled over onto Ketill, who was now held down by Harith in turn. Loud cheering erupted from the sideline as the guards cheered their ‘hero’ on, not realizing that with one hand still captured in Ketills’ bear-claw hands and the other wrapped around his throat loosely, he couldn’t do much. Harith did seem to realize this and started attempting to free his other hand, but this only distracted him from Ketill’s other hand, which was hurled at Hariths face while curled up into a fist. 

As Ketill hit the man in the face, some spit flew out of the mans mouth as he reared back, letting go of Ketill’s throat as he rolled over again. Almost immediately Ketill got back on top of him, grabbing him by his tunic and pulling him up, before delivering a final blow. He headbutted him on the bridge of his nose, which luckily for Harith wouldn’t hurt quite as much as on the nose itself. Ketill felt the mans body loosen up then, and let go of him, before getting off. Harith moaned lightly under the pain of the headbut, his hand immediately reaching up to his nose – there’d be no cause for his son, wife or Najla to get worried immediately. But knowing the Sawarim, they would do so immediately regardless. 

Despite the fact that they had just fought, again Ketill extended a hand to the man, and Harith slowly reached out with his other hand, holding onto his nose with the other. With a single tug, Ketill pulled the man up and guided him towards a nearby chair that would – assumedly – been reserved for whoever was guiding the young recruits during practice usually. Almost immediately some of the guards rushed to Harith with water and salves, while the two escorts grabbed Ketill’s arms to prepare to move him out of there. Before they could do so, however, Harith instructed them; <[i]“Hold on, take him back to some private quarters for a slave – he should be kept fit for the next few weeks. Give him what he asks for, and send one of the harem girls his way afterwards.”[/i]>

Although the guards likely disagreed with these demands, they would comply none the less and nodded at Harith, before taking Ketill away again. As they walked away, Ketill caught a glance of some onlookers that weren’t there when they started, among which some of the harem girls. They stood further away however, and watched from a distance, not daring to get closer to the stands.

[hr]

Ketill was taken to private quarters, outfitted with nothing too extravagant. It was certainly an improvement over the barracks, however, where he slept with many other slaves. Instead, he had a bed of his own, and a window that overlooked the desert, on the backside of the city. It was much too high to jump out of and escape, and the outlook into the desert made it clear that even if one managed to escape, there was nothing there for them. Perhaps that was done on purpose. The guards shoved him inside and then closed the door, leaving Ketill alone to look around the room. 

Compared to Najla’s room it wasn’t much, certainly. It wasn’t even half as big, and the space that was there was taken up by the furniture. He had a desk, a chair, but nothing to put on the desk. Then there was a wardrobe, but he had no clothes to put in it. The bed was probably the best feature, he supposed. He sat down on it, finding it to be its’ fair share more comfortable than the barebones beds in the barracks. He supposed the room had been a guestroom at some point, but had become obsolete when new ones had been built. Instead, they now kept them for the slaves that were more valued than others. Even among slaves there was a hierarchy it seemed. The harem girls were technically slaves too, though they were their entire own class on its’ own it seemed at times.

He swung his legs up on the bed and closed his eyes momentarily, and before he knew it he fell fast asleep. An hour later, knocking on the door woke him. He considered ignoring it and going back to sleep, but a second later more knocks followed. He groaned as he got up, mumbling something to himself while approaching the door. He grabbed the door handle and pulled it open viciously, shaking the door in its’ hinges. [i]“What?”[/i] he hissed. He was forced to look down slightly, as his large stature compared to that of his guest meant that he was looking straight over them.

In front of him stood a woman standing at no larger than 5’6”, with skin slightly tanned. She was not quite as dark as some Sawarim were, but she was not exactly the same color as Broacienien people either. Her eyes, too, were ambiguous as to where she came from, as the brown color was not a real indicator as opposed to Ketill’s blue eyes, and her almond shaped eyes could be from anywhere. If anything, her brown hair gave away even less. But when she spoke, it became quite clear. [i]“I was sent here by the guards to entertain you,”[/i] she said, in near perfect Broacienien. She looked up at him questioningly, fluttering her long eyelashes as if to appear more innocent. Perhaps she intended to persuade him this way, but she would find Ketill was more resilient than that. 

[center][hider=The harem girl][img]http://i.imgur.com/GCcomQN.jpg[/img][/hider][/center]

[i]“I don’t need you,”[/i] he answered, before he attempted to shut the door on her. 

Moving quick, she planted her foot in front of the door, using a hand to press against it. Despite Ketill’s brute strength, she held her own quite well, well enough to keep the door open, although Ketill felt her arm and foot move ever so slightly. [i]“You do not understand – I was gifted to you by his lordship Harith, to deny me would be to insult him.”[/i]

[i]“He will understand.”[/i]

[i]“Yes, but Najla would not – nor would the Sultan.”[/i]

The girl would feel that Ketill slowly stopped pushing the door. After a moment, he opened it again and beckoned her inside. [i]“Fine.”[/i] She smiled at him graciously before stepping inside, moving gently. It reminded Ketill of Najla, which was perhaps not a good thing for the girl. Her hips swayed lightly, not as obvious as some of the other girls, though it had a certain subtle grace to it. She walked all the way into the room, taking a moment to take in the contents of it, before walking to the window and looking out of it, leaning on the windowsill. Perhaps she had intended to stick out her behind, enticing Ketill to look at it, but Ketill had already returned to his bed, and sat down. [i]“Why do you speak Broacienien?”[/i] he asked without skipping a beat.

[i]“Hm? Oh, I suppose they picked me because I sp-”[/i]

[i]“That’s not what I meant. Stop pretending you’re dumb.”[/i]

His interruption earned him a silent smile from behind her hair, as she looked back at him ever so slightly from the corner of her eyes, though her face was hidden from Ketill by her hair. [i]“My father was a Servant, my mother a Sawarim woman in Coedwin. I lived there all my life, until my father died when I was eight. We tried to move back to the Sultanate, to live with family.”[/i]

[i]“What makes you think your family would take you back after your mother married a Servant?”[/i]

[i]“Who said they married?”[/i]

Ketill groaned at the woman, already annoyed at her attempts at playing games. The woman only giggled, seeming to find herself quite amused with Ketill already. [i]“We got separated in a sandstorm. When it died down, she was gone, and I was found by some guards. They took me with them, to the palace, and the Sultan decided he liked me. I was a servant for a Sultana for a while, until I was 16, then the harem girls politely asked the Sultan if they could have me.”[/i]

[i]“How interesting. I was sleeping when you came, so you’ll forgive me for going back to sleep.”[/i]

[i]“How dull-”[/i]

[i]“Indeed. You can sit there at the desk until you think Harith will be satisfied, and then you can leave.”[/i]

[i]“So it is true what they say about the Servants? That you make oaths of celibacy?”[/i]

[i]“Your father sired a child did he not?”[/i]

[i]“He also loved a Sawarim woman, so he wasn’t much for oaths, I assumed.”[/i]

[i]“There are no such oaths. Why do you ask about oaths? The only one that believes we have such oaths is Osman. Did he send you?”[/i]

[i]“Hmm.. no, he isn’t interested in us like that. He prefers to get beaten by slaves, last I heard.”[/i]

Now she earned a chuckle from Ketill, who put his arms under his head as he closed his eyes, preparing to take a nap regardless of the woman sitting in his room. [i]“I doubt he planned to do that.”[/i]

[i]“Did Harith plan to take a beating from you?”[/i]

[i]“That is different – Harith is a man, Osman is…”[/i]

The girl pivoted in her position now, turning to Ketill, her hands on the windowsill as she rested against it, looking Ketill up and down now. [i]“I do not care what he is, Bear of Broacien, I care what you are.”[/i]

Ketill opened an eye, grinning at her before answering. [i]“A slave,”[/i] he answered, knowing she was looking for something else. His eye fell upon her more closely now, however. Her midriff was exposed, as she wore nothing more than a cropped top, which was riddled with golden accessories that jingled whenever she moved. Her skirt was long and had similar accessories, which made it so that whenever she made as much as a movement with her hips, the sound would pull Ketill back out of his attempt at a nap.

Slowly she drew closer, before sitting down at the edge of the bed. She folded her hands in her lap for now, still trying to figure out how to talk to this man. [i]“Then we have something in common,”[/i] she said, looking at Ketill as he tried to go back to sleep. [i]“Do you… still believe?”[/i]

The annoyance was growing within Ketill at this point, bothered by her many questions – which unlike Basim’s questions were not based in curiosity, but a burning desire to get to her ultimate goal. Thinly veiled as it was, he had no doubts it worked on other man. He opened his eyes now, looking at the girl sitting at the edge of the bed, wondering what she wanted specifically. [i]“Yes.”[/i] He avoided telling her that he had converted, as she likely wouldn’t understand anyway. [i]“You’re Sawarim?”[/i]

The girl smiled now, looking down at her own hands. She begun twirling her fingers then, as if the question made her uneasy. [i]“I am whatever the Sultan wants me to be,”[/i] she answered. Before Ketill answered, she placed her right hand on his chest. Slowly her hand went down to his stomach, before reaching for the hem of his pants.

Before she could continue, however, Ketill grabbed her arm, and looked her in the eyes – a different look from before. [i]“I told you I don’t need you – whatever you are here for, you won’t get it. I let you in to avoid getting you into trouble with Harith or Najla. Don’t push the boundaries. I am not some royal prince that you need to please to earn your keep.”[/i] 

Slowly he’d let go of her arm, after which she’d put them in her lap again. She seemed a bit confused – naturally, this was just about all she knew how to do. It was very strange for her to meet this Bear of Broacien that was not interested in it at all. As Ketill laid there, the girl finally seemed silent and he closed his eyes again. At least, until she spoke up again. [i]“If you sleep, do you mind if I lay with you? When the guards come to get me later, it would seem strange if I’m sitting here like this while you sleep.”[/i]

Grumbling, Ketill answered her; [i]“you demand a lot for a harem girl,”[/i] his words seeming rather annoyed at that point. 

[i]“Any other harem girl would’ve walked out of here the moment you denied them,”[/i] she answered. As he didn’t say ‘no’ explicitly, she proceeded to turn onto her back and lay next to him. It was done awkwardly at first, as she didn’t know how to handle herself when she wasn’t able to perform services for her clients, but soon enough she put her arm on Ketill’s chest and put her head against him, before putting a leg over his. 

[i]“I had hoped you’d walked out too, but it seems you’re still here,”[/i] Ketill replied. [i]“You never told me your name either,”[/i] he added promptly. 

[i]“Call me what you want to,”[/i] she answered.

[i]“That’s not much of a name.”[/i]

[/quote]