Sareen strode through the stables in the moon morning suns, Omid in tow, with hands clasped behind her back as she inspected Taljir’s work. Her face betrayed no emotion as she scrutinized everything while Taljir and Riz tried their best to not show fear. They had settled for a minimum amount of fear as a far more realistic goal as Sareen gave the smallest nod.

“It looks as though you have been quite successful, Taljir.” She spoke aloud without looking at him.

Taljir scrambled forward as he put on a toothy smile to address the Kirzallan. “And it’s all thanks to my assistant here!” He said as he gestured both arms at Riz, who gave a bow just as they had practiced. “And of course the guidance of Master Omid!”

Omid sharply inhaled, feeling as though someone had just jabbed a knife into his lung but holding onto his ever so slight smile as he winced through the emotional agony as Sareen cast a curious eye to him. Taljir fared only slightly better as he struggled with addressing his friend with that title, but he held onto his smile just long enough for Sareen to eye Omid before he faltered.

“Well done, Omid.” She said with a pleasant smile before turning and giving only the slightest nod to the two stable hands. She turned her attention to her own personal riding camel in her pen just under the overhanging awning made of the same pale stone most everything else was around here. Her smile returned as she patted the camel’s neck as the beast extended its head towards her, resting it on Sareen’s shoulder in a show of affection.

“She seems quite happy.” Sareen observed, still patting her camel.

Omid gave a quick nod to Taljir and Riz over his shoulder before stepping forward and speaking in a calm, collected voice. “Stable Master Taljir has a way with beasts that will have them happier and healthier than ever thought possible.”

Sareen looked over her shoulder with a raised brow and slight smile. “Stable Master?”

“So many fine camels require additional organization in stable management.” Omid explained, walking closer to Sareen, gesturing to the long line of well maintained stalls full of contented camels resting in the shade. “Someone with a title answering to someone else with an even grander title.”

Indigo eyes twinkled back at Omid as she returned her attention to her camel, patting it a few more times before she turned on her heels with a slight flourish of a new set of clothes Sareen had taken to wearing while her desert traversal gear was being repaired after a bit of light arm snapping. 

“See that this continues.” Sareen instructed the stablehands, who gave a slight bow at her instruction and avoided looking at her for too long. “In a week’s time, we shall have many guests and their beasts are to be treated as you would treat mine and Omid’s.”

“Yes, Princess.” Taljir and Riz both said in unison to the approval of Sareen, who said not another word as she turned and made her way back into the palace. 

Omid flashed a quick smile and rapidly nodded his head to Taljir and Riz who both breathed a silent sigh of relief and relaxed their posture as they watched Omid follow after Sareen, who himself breathed a bit easier knowing the previous day’s plans had succeeded.

No one had wanted to test what might happen to Riz if Sareen had decided that he was no longer of any use, as the young man had heard enough stories of questionable veracity to be worried. That this plan made Omid look good and would, in theory, secure additional pull for him to help keep Riz and any other servants out of being glassed or turned to stone was an added bonus in the lead up to the Zallan War Party and the increased scrutiny that all palace servants would be facing from Sareen.

It had only been a few days since Omid had started to learn control over fire, and already he was accumulating things he was trying to prevent from metaphorically bursting into flames. Sareen had been introducing him to more of the palace in a review of all the preparations that must be done in time for the Zallan War Party, and though he had not been explicitly placed in charge of anything he still had the implication that all other servants were to still treat him as a superior. Something that still did not sit right with him, and had him handing out sympathetic smiles filled with light pain to nearly everyone.

This was of course no reprieve from ongoing lessons in earth.

“Your guards.” Omid began as he and Sareen passed another pair of the stone creations, which still drew hesitant glances from the apprentice mage. “What might stop an interloper from taking control of them?”

He honestly couldn’t decide whether he wanted to know more for his own safety if he ever had to stop them on his own, or the safety of all within the palace when there were going to be many other Zallans and their associates here who would no doubt have some manner of control over earth. None of which he could trust in the slightest, as opposed to Sareen form whom his trust was the slightest.

Sareen pulled a fluid turn as she walked, coming to a stop and forcing Omid to stop just as fast to not crash into her and the amused smile that she wore. 

“I do.” She stated as though it were the simplest concept that she was all too happy to tell any who would listen about. “They are extensions of my will. Any who would try to take control of them would be directly fighting my will for their control.”

Omid blinked, gave a slight nod, and then a small smile as he locked eyes with Sareen. “An impossible task then.”

Her smile reached up  to her eyes, which regained their gleam. She said nothing more as she turned around and continued walking through the palace halls, but Omid knew what that expression meant already and had been playing this game long enough. It meant always being on guard, knowing that every slip could be his last, but it had gotten him this far. There was no stopping now.

“Have you been enjoying your meals?” Sareen asked, still walking to some unknown destination through stone hallways and rooms Omid didn’t recognize into some unknown part of the palace.

“Every meal has been exceptional.” Omid was underselling it, really. Every meal had been the best he had ever had in his entire life. However fear over a display of too much gratitude being sufficient for Sareen to consider all debts repaid kept him from expressing his true feelings. “And you have been an exceptional host.”

“And have you wondered where all the food comes from?” She asked.

Now was the point where Omid’s eyes went wide as he almost collided with that sharp stone corner he only just cleared that led into a long stairwell going down that bore the same style as everything else here looking as though it were cut from one massive block of stone. Stairs were not a welcome challenge at the moment that all possibilities were running through Omid’s head.

Mentally slapping himself about, Omid finally remembered to answer. “I did not want to be rude, and instead I focused on the skill of the chefs in your employ.”

“Good chefs are only one part of the equation.” She said, and Omid’s heart fell down the stairs while he tried to steady his own descent.

How literally did she mean that? Was Omid eating the chefs? Was it all human meat? Even the plants somehow? Or was it all just a simple curse that had doomed him to eternal servitude to Sareen from the first over eager bite he sunk his teeth into after too long eating only dates, stone bread, and a few morsels of dried meat. Being presented with a meal of expertly cooked fish seasoned with the finest spices and accompanied by a selection of fresh grains and vegetables equally seasoned to perfection had anihilated all caution after that first day or so of learning two elements of magic after arriving on one of the moons. All on an empty stomach.

Omid swallowed hard, willing himself to not break out into a cold sweat and having limited success. “W-well, naturally.”

“The things you eat grow so poorly up above.” Sareen said with a disappointed sigh as she glided down the stairs, footsteps not making a single sound as Omid’s steps echoed in the stairwell. “And with trade being so infrequent, other methods must be employed.”

“Of course.” Omid had to choke the words out as he wondered if he was an accidental cannibal, cursed, or an accidentally cursed cannibal. 

Sareen came to a stop in front of a large set of double doors made of finely carved dark wood standing in stark contrast to everything else here, including the pale stone guards standing on either side. An eerie green light poured out from wherever the doors didn’t perfectly meet one another or the doorframe, which made the guards even more unsettling than the usual amount. “So I did what I had to, to ensure that my loyal servants and honored guests would eat well.”

The Kirzallan flung open the doors, striding in with the Accidentally Cursed Cannibal in tow as he took in the sights of...something.

“What...am I looking at here?” Omid asked as he looked at the various large...contraptions currently attended to by teams of busy servants who paid no attention to the entering pair. 

The nearest device was a large brass and glass tank filled with glimmering green water that led down into an equally large rounded brass housing of components and strange symbols Omid failed to recognize standing so tall as to connect to the ceiling far above in this large room lit by the green glow of this device. A servant carried a large bucket and placed it before a metal chute like a great maw opening up in this device. The young woman dressed in drab working clothes and with fair skin highlighted by the green light pulled a lever next to the metal chute. The mysterious device groaned, the water of the tank shook for a moment and a large prized fish came flopping out of the chute and into her bucket. She struggled with the flopping fish, one hand bandaged, as she took it through another set of doors flanked by stone guards at the far side of this vast room.

“It’s only ever one thing from each device.” Sareen broke Omid’s daze, appearing right next to him as she shared in his stare up at the device. “This one produces a delightful catch of fine fish.”

As Omid marveled at the thing, he realized that anyone who figured out it’s workings would ascend beyond king and into a living legend that parents would sing songs to their children of. “How does it work?”

“You would have to ask the Mirzallan I obtained it from.” She said, slight smile visible in the green light as Omid looked over at her. “Though as her heart is currently the primary means of keeping it going you may have limited success.”

Omid had several questions.

“....and the secondary means?” He decided was likely the most immediately vital.

“Sometimes when you pull the lever too many times within a day, teeth extend from it to collect some blood.” Sareen was far too casual with that bit of knowledge, and her growing smile at Omid’s visible confusion was all the confirmation Omid needed that she was having her version of fun here.

Which put him on high alert.

“How many other of the…” He gestured to the room filled with other devices of similar yet distinct nature. “...the things here are powered by blood and or hearts?”

“All of them.” Sareen’s delight was apparent as Omid struggled to maintain his face of neutrality.

Omid comforted himself with the logic that absolutely none of this counted as cannibalism, but in the same line of thinking upset himself with the fact that the death and suffering of people was still directly involved. Though the food potential remained undeniable. He settled on a heavy sigh of relief, much to Sareen’s confusion as she looked over the man dressed in all green bathed in even greener light.

Her frown grew and her head tilted. “Is something wrong, Omid?”

“How often must the hearts be replaced?” Omid asked as he started walking towards another large device. From this angle he saw shadows of swaying grass in the glass of this particular tank of green light. 

Sareen stared at the young man before taking a few steps to follow him. “Never. The still bleeding hearts shall beat until I deem it wise to release them from their labor in powering these devices. Until such a time, those who had once opposed me now work for me in service of my servants and guests.”

“Efficient, and impressive.” Omid watched a servant pull a lever with some amount of trepidation as the burlap sack he was holding at this chute was rewarded with what looked to be a freshly reaped sheaf of wheat sliding down and out of the contraption. He looked to have dark brown eyes like Omid, only barely distinguishable in the green light down here, as he gave him the quickest nod and made for the doors that the earlier servant girl had left through.

The Kirzallan ignored all else as she stared at her apprentice. “Trying to grasp the levers without a bare hand produces no results. One must be ready to provide a sacrifice so that others may eat.”

“Makes sense.” Omid said as he leaned closer to the lever, noting with squinting eyes that along the sides that would naturally rest in one’s palm were nearly imperceptible seams like lipless mouths. “I can see why you have so many guards posted around here, this is all of immeasurable value.”

Sareen’s face didn’t change from neutrality as she placed a hand on her hip, watching Omid make his way to a device that produced large royal dates.

Omid marvelled at all of the devices before his gaze was pulled to a cry of pain from a corner of the room as a servant had just been bitten by one of the machines. He ran over, noting the bucket filled to the brim with large royal dates set upon the floor as the servant nursed his wounded hand. Rolling up his sleeves, Omid helped the boy apply pressure after inspecting the wound.

“Will you be alright?” He asked the boy, looking to be a few years younger than himself with close shaven hair and medium brown skin

The lad winced, nodding as Omid withdrew a handkerchief he had been holding onto from one of the camel thieves’ confiscated goods and used it to fashion a bandage

“What is your name?” Omid asked as Sareen slowly walked over to the scene.

Looking between him and Sareen several times with light colored eyes currently awash in green, he gulped hard and answered Omid. “Azref, Master Omid.”

“Your sacrifice is vital to us all, Azref.” He said with a nod. “And do treat that wound well.”

“Of course, Master Omid.” The lad said before scurrying off, half dragging the bucket with one hand.

Omid returned to marveling at these strange devices, fingers brushing along his beard as he did the mental math on what kind of output these devices must have to support a palace with this many servants, and what could no doubt handle many more if Sareen was confident in hosting a party here.

“Where might we find more of these?” The question came to Omid before he had fully processed Sareen’s observation of him.

Sareen took a few seconds to reply as indigo eyes locked onto Omid. “Anyone who has them keeps them as a prized possession for feeding servants and guests, and they would not let them go without a fight to the death.”

“Have you tested the limits of them? How much food they will produce before no blood price will be enough?” Omid continued with his questioning, undeterred and hatching another plan as he went.

“Only a certain number of collections may be performed in a day.” Sareen said as she circled around Omid before coming to a stop in front of him, staring into his eyes. “10 collections. Past the 4th, all bear the danger of a blood price. You seem to be taking this quite well.”

Omid’s open mouthed wonder ended as he finally met her eyes, and he gained a determined scowl. “To have such a supply of food for so meager a fee? If a machine hungers I will find them a worthy heart and pull the lever myself. Treat enough wounds with magic and you’ll have people begging to serve here so that they may eat. Enough of these devices and armies, cities would join you.”

She crossed her arms, raising a brow. “Would they now?”

“You’ve been taking me around to every place around the castle in need of increased security. If your servants not only depended on you, but knew that even a bit of blood would be nothing at all in return for their reward then you have an army willing to...assist in any plots you may have against visiting rivals.” Omid explained, gesturing about with his hands.

“This is a most curious side of you, Omid.” Sareen said with the slightest flash of a smile.

Omid shrugged, returning her smile. “I’m simply doing what I must to survive.”

“Is that all?” She asked, teeth bared like she was sizing him up.

“I suppose we shall find out.” He said, smile hiding the fact that he was waiting on that answer too. Specifically he was desperately waiting for the confirmation that he was indeed just trying to survive in an ever harsher and more horrifying world.

He brushed those thoughts aside as he insisted they attend to Azref before they continue their tour of things that must be attended to before the War Party.

SylasWrites

Hey Omid your literal and figurative flirting with danger is maybe a bad idea. Or a good idea. Who can say.