Barloschios looked back and saw Orb had stumbled into a sculpted bust of a beautiful woman, one of many in the vast marble room. Orb crawled on his hands and knees for a minute before straightening up and feeling the air before him, thinking that another obstacle would obstruct his way.

After witnessing a similar behavior in the port, Barloschios could not help but doubt the state of Orb’s eyes. Therefore, he instantly vanished and appeared in front of Orb, who was close to one of the long wall mirrors. Barloschios startled Orb when he swiftly pushed his blind prey toward the mirror. With one hand, he twisted one of Orb’s arms behind him and, with his other hand, grabbed Orb’s hair to hold his face in front of the mirror.

“What is this? So the rumors were true. You’ve gone completely blind.” The lord mocked, “Ah, Orb, isn’t that another good reason for your master to protect you? You poor, helpless slave! Now I get why you continuously stumbled at the port and across my gallery.”

Meanwhile, Orb used his other free hand to wrestle Barloschios’ hand, which viciously grabbed his hair, but it was a strong hand that would not budge. Barloschios gazed at Orb’s forehead with excitement, Stitches!

“But it’s the norm among Arkosian noblemen to get rid of their useless slaves, so why does your master keep you?” Barloschios continued, “Not only that, but he is being possessive. He wouldn’t allow us to get near you.”

“LET ME GO!” Orb shouted.

Barloschios released Orb. “Did your master rip your forehead?”

“He didn’t! Stop touching me; leave me be!” Orb was panting and sweating profusely as he shoved Barloschios and took one step back. Unaffected by that push, Barloschios watched Orb calmly as he turned around and began moving toward the closed door.

Orb felt his body going through a similar situation to what happened before in the disciplinary room. His threatened body experienced pain due to one torture incident he had suffered in the past.

Someone pulled Orb’s hair, squeezed his jaw, and repeatedly hit his head against the wall. That memory ended with shoving Orb to the ground, stripping him naked, and viciously beating him with the buckle of a dark brown leather belt. The buckle needle cut the skin on his back and left the flesh bleeding.

What is this? Barloschios saw at that moment the stains of blood that began to form on Orb’s back. Although the blind young man could not see them, he felt hot and stinging pain all over his back.

“Take off this filthy, smelly rag. I know it is not yours!” Barloschios sounded disgusted as he confidently followed Orb, extended his sneaky hand, and pulled Orb’s shirt from behind.

“Ugh! NO!” To Orb’s astonishment and horror, Barloschios pulled his shirt off before knocking Orb to the ground. Orb could not see his front buttons fall into the ground, but he felt his skin exposed to the cruel pair of eyes.

Throwing the crumpled shirt to the floor, Barloschios traced the torrents of sweat slipping from Orb’s wet head to his neck. His neck is burned, and this is undoubtedly the doing of Ayege. I still remember when the two confronted each other at the Carnival of Shadows. But why is he sweating this much? He secretly wondered.

Barloschios saw the wounds on Orb’s back damp with sweat, but they looked red and raw, some of them bled again, and he thought they were new wounds. “It has been almost three weeks since you were lashed at the Carnival of Shadows. Haven’t your back wounds healed yet?” He raised one eyebrow in astonishment, “Or have you been lashed again?”

Barloschios’ tone was inquisitive but had a tinge of excitement, which made Orb suddenly turn and throw himself forward over Barloschios. Yet, the latter vanished instantly and appeared again behind Orb, grabbing his damp hair and yanking him up. Barloschios pulled Orb’s head back to expose his throat.

“What? Angry?” Barloschios smirked.

Orb landed a blow from his elbow on Barloschios’ chest that knocked the air out of his lungs for a second, but he did not let go of Orb’s hair. Orb aimed another blow with his other elbow, but this time Barloschios held it and twisted it behind Orb, who grunted in pain.

Barloschios instantly cracked his knee into Orb’s back while still holding his hand and grabbing his hair. Orb gasped and huffed in great agony as Barloschios left him to crumple to the ground.

As soon as Orb sensed Barloschios’ feet right behind him, he instantly turned, swinging his leg to kick the side of Barloschios’ legs with all his might. Bringing Barloschios to his knees, Orb pounced and knocked him to the floor. Attempting to punch his abductor, Orb got his fists caught in Barloschios’ hands with ease.

Even though Orb was over Barloschios, the latter had the upper hand and had no intention of being serious about fighting Orb. He was collected and calm, as his health was intact, unlike the skinny, frowning, sweaty Orb, whose lungs whistled with the slightest attempt to break free from Barloschios’ grip.

Orb then attempted biting Barloschios’ forearm, but the lord instantly rolled over on top of him and pinned Orb’s hands on the ground over his head with one hand. “Aw, the little wolf is angry. I won’t let you bite me again, Orb!” he grinned before using his Uthusian energy to control the two resisting hands.

***

Barloschios’ eyes glowed in excitement as he wrapped his silk scarf, which was adorning his neck, directly over Orb’s mouth. Outraged, Orb’s eyes protruded in panic even though he could not see his enemy. He started screaming angrily, but with that rich fabric over his mouth, it was a useless, muffled roar.

“Oh, Orb, don’t wet my valuable scarf with your saliva,” Barloschios sounded disgusted yet excited.

Orb’s paralyzed hands were useless against the aggressive arms, and his legs were kicking the air in vain as Barloschios squatted down, unbothered, over Orb’s flat stomach. However, Barloschios proceeded to control the rest of Orb’s body with his Uthusian energy and left him lying flat on the ground, unable to move.

“If you behave, I’ll give you this silk scarf—it’s expensive,” Barloschios stood up and dragged Orb by his wrist across the floor.

As he eyed the shirt on the floor, Barloschios spoke with the same playful tone. “Judging from the sorry and disgusting condition of the shirt and its size, I am sure you stole it, which is the third offence you committed today. But why would you steal? Your master is so generous with his servants and slaves, and he would never allow any of them to look so—shabby!”

Possibly to prolong his suffering, Barloschios disregarded Orb’s pain and muffled grunts and dragged him around the furniture scattered in the hall. However, he suddenly stopped and gazed at him.

“Hmm, I wonder what happened? Oh, little wolf! Despite your stealing someone else’s clothes, I could smell Vermon on you,” leaning forward, Barloschios sniffed Orb, “Did you spend the night with him?”

Unfortunately, no matter how loud he objected, Orb’s angry voice was muffled. This monster! This monster! His imagination is running wild! Orb could not turn his head to where Barloschios was standing above him, but he felt highly vexed at the ridiculous comment and the way Barloschios dragged him around like he was something filthy.

Yet, due to Orb’s physical and mental stress, his breathing grew rougher, with his mouth gagged by the scarf.

“I have seen you as an exceptional slave whose defiance and resistance would bring me entertainment and pleasure,” Barloschios was not smiling. He solemnly spoke as he dragged Orb once more toward the fireplace. He then released Orb’s wrist, letting him fall flat on his face.

Barloschios grabbed Orb again by the hair and forced him to sit on both knees. The cruel lord deliberately took his time as he shook and jerked Orb’s body back and forth just to inflict pain and observe that on the young man’s pale face.

Orb tried hard to muffle his whimpers, but they slipped as he panted for air and wet the scarf with his saliva. He closed his eyes and began thinking about things that brought comfort to his troubled mind and heart. He could not help but think about the willow pond, his newly-discovered flower, Jerboa, and Riecho.

That helped distract Orb from pain and discomfort while Barloschios grabbed his arms and placed them on each side before him. What is he doing? No, No, Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. He can’t hurt me. He can’t hurt me. He can’t hurt me, Orb repeated.

Barloschios ended Orb’s torment when he ruffled his damp hair to make it curtain the pair of his dead eyes. Satisfied with the result, Barloschios smiled and thought, Now, I have you. A good-looking, proud, defiant, yet restrained slave. Kneeling half naked before the glowing firewood. Quite interesting.

“Orb, you look perfect,” Barloschios paused for a moment as he gazed at Orb before straightening up. “I am tired of— owning and killing slaves— who easily submit to me and cry as soon as they see— me and my sword over their heads,” he sounded distracted yet resentful.

Orb sensed that Barloschios walked up to a corner in the room about three meters away and then heard him drag a heavy object slightly forward. Barloschios stopped moving for some time.

What is he doing? Orb worried, forgetting about the pain of his newly opened wounds.

“However, you were different,” Barloschios continued. “You were neither a weakling nor a coward. I thought I could spend some time with you to kill my boredom.”

Orb heard Barloschios’ deep and quiet voice coming from the corner where he stood. He could not help worrying about himself, for he was abducted by a powerful but brutal lord who could torture and humiliate or sexually assault him.

Orb already felt humiliated after having his mouth gagged, for he was neither able to shout for help nor use his fangs to tear his opponent’s flesh. Barloschios’ controlling his body by the Uthusian energy reminded him of Vermon’s past offences when he used it against his will, which infuriated him more.

Now that he tore my shirt off, ruffled my hair, and gagged me, what does he intend to do to me? Orb did not seem to get an immediate answer to his soundless questions, as Barloschios was still speaking in the same tone, his hands busy fiddling around with objects in the corner.

“But how can I prolong my pleasure with you when you are not mine? How can I measure my enjoyment when it is only for a day? How can I be satisfied when the seal of Uthus connects you to your master, who is definitely looking for you right now? Ah, Orb, you are not free, and this is your charm! Your master is constantly protecting you, to the extent that the Uthusian society suspects you are not a slave but a partner.”

What? Protect? Me? A partner? I can’t believe what he’s saying! Outraged, Orb began to shout unintelligible words, to which Barloschios paid no heed.

“What? Didn’t you like what I said? These are merely speculations. Your master doesn’t allow anyone to touch or get near you. It is customary for the noblemen of Arkosia to meet some days and have fun with each other’s slaves.”

Barloschios paused for a moment and then went on, “Especially slaves who are physically attractive or unruly and difficult to tame. They have some value that makes them the subject of entertainment and fun to toy with, regardless of their gender. The swapping of slaves for an agreed period of time is not uncommon in Arkosia, provided that they are returned in good condition, without a permanent disability.”

Orb’s heart rate accelerated when he heard Barloschios speak in a matter-of-fact tone. Swapping? Good condition? I’m unable to think. Why is he saying this? Why is he doing this? After trying hard to regulate his breathing, Orb began panting again after closing his eyes and attempting to straighten up. In addition to the newly-open wounds, his arched back was hurting. This position. God! It hurts. It hurts. Will this suffering ever end?

Again, Orb was experiencing at that moment the exact feeling he had when Vermon tied him to the disciplinary pillar, veiled his face, and flogged his legs. He remembered when Vermon left him for a long time, prey to the irrational fears and doubts of what he could do to him. Orb was mired in darkness and silence, exhausted and frightened.

***

“It was strange that your master wouldn’t let us taste and enjoy you in our private gatherings. He refused to bring you with him or talk about you, and his rejecting our requests was often explicit. ‘I have no slaves for fun,’ he would say, ‘Orb is mine,’ or ‘No one is allowed to touch him.’ but here you are now, kneeling before me.”

Barloschios sighed audibly. “I was hoping your master would sell you to me, but never mind that; I got you at last, with little effort.”

There was a long silence, during which Orb no longer heard Barloschios’ voice or movement in the place. Why is it suddenly quiet? Is he toying with me? Is he going to torture me, or…? Orb’s panic grew as he panted. Unexpectedly, he repeated the name of Vermon like a talisman with which he hoped to see him appear before him and end his suffering.

Vermon. Vermon, where are you?

It was unexpected, but he admitted it to himself; Orb preferred Vermon’s loud presence and noisy character to this silence and the discomfort of the unknown, which tormented him more than anything else. Despite Orb’s propensity for a peaceful life and escape from crowded places, this silence and stillness gave him an uncomfortable feeling of anxiety and fear.

He did not mind Vermon’s blatant and childish ways of committing aggression against him. It was better than this. Therefore, Orb imagined an extremely mad Vermon flinging the door open and knocking the statues around for the sake of committing some violence. He imagined him quarreling with Barloschios while taking out his whip to lash him as a punishment for his escape.

Fearing another ravaging fit in this hateful place, which would surge regardless of his health condition, Orb began to repeat his new spell. Stupid Vermon. Stupid Vermon. Stupid Vermon. Why aren’t you coming?

***

It had been an hour since Barloschios brought Orb to his mansion, after which Orb felt his legs going into a painful state of numbness and his back suffering a disturbing pain. He believed that Barloschios deliberately chose that pose with his back leaning forward to keep Orb in complete submission to him and to humiliate him.

Afterward, Orb was startled by the sound of light taps coming from that corner where Barloschios stayed and remained silent. The taps slowed down for some time; then, they grew faster and stronger than before. The taps were followed by hammering that echoed around the hall more vigorously in a manner that frightened Orb until he heard his heartbeats drumming in his ears.

What’s he doing? I want this nightmare to be over. I can’t stand it anymore. Orb cried unintelligible, muffled objections again, but they went unnoticed. Still sweating, gasping, bleeding, and hurting, Orb winced in great distress. He failed to manage all his negative feelings at that moment.

As a result, Orb had a sudden but severe headache and started screaming in great agony as his arched, paralyzed body emitted a white halo, which looked concentrated before exploding in a matter of three seconds.

The entire marble room was washed away with that white glow, after which almost every marble statue, column, and tile turned into a heap of sand. The window glasses also exploded into fine crystals of sand that scattered inside and outside the room in the open air. The exterior of the fireplace crumbled but the interior was slightly damaged. Only the flames remained flickering over logs of black wood.

In a reflex, Barloschios instantly erected a barrier to protect his precious marble slab on which he was working but failed to save his hammer. It was a quick reaction befitting the bloodthirsty, ready-to-attack, distrusting lord.

Even though he did that, he froze in place with a wooden handle of a hammer in his hand that had just lost its stone head. He stared with amusement at the hall that turned into dunes of white sand, amid which the blind, arched young man was panting violently and groaning in apparent pain.

Just then, Barloschios freed him from the shackles of his energy, and Orb’s frail body fell to his side on the ground.

“Ah, Vermon, what brought you here?” Orb heard Barloschios speak calmly but disappointedly, “How did you know that your little wolf pup was here? Was it the seal? Or his black energy?”

Of course, Barloschios knew that the seal of Uthus and Orb’s black energy led Vermon to where Orb was. He just played ignorant and wished to prolong Vermon’s stay for his personal enjoyment.

Vermon! Orb was initially surprised.

***

Although the headache he experienced lessened and the panting persisted, Orb felt relative relief. Yet he remained to lie on his side, unable to remove the scarf and stand with two numb legs. He was utterly exhausted and drenched in his sweat.

Orb did not hear Vermon’s voice at first, but his refreshing scent blanketed him entirely and he realized he was standing near him.

“Ugh! I got sand in my eyes,” Vermon was sarcastic even though he furrowed his eyebrows. He looked around, then added, “Nice dunes!”

Barloschios chuckled at Vermon’s comment and did not seem to mind. “Thank you,” he casually said.

Vermon’s handsome face darkened with anger as he examined Orb’s body with narrow eyes and tight lips. His slave was lying on one side, gagged, shirtless, but wearing shabby-looking pants. It shocked Vermon to see the wounds on his back bleeding anew.

“What’s the meaning of this, Barloschios? What were you doing? What were you thinking?” Hissed Vermon in a voice that exuded great anger without looking at Barloschios, who walked up to Vermon with confident strides.

“I just talked to him. I didn’t have enough time to do anything—yet,” the cunning lord quietly answered.

Vermon dropped to one knee opposite Orb, untied the wet scarf, and viciously removed it while his eyes scanned his damp, unkempt hair. He forced Orb to get up and stand on his numb legs.

“Vermon, I …” Orb’s voice was hoarse after screaming for help for almost an hour through the gag. He coughed and said nothing. Vermon did not demand him to speak, as he was not interested in listening to him then. His face was clouded with indignation, and his eyes were blazing with anger.

“Were you looking for him because you were worried about what the seal would do to him, Vermon?”  Said Barloschios playfully, “Maybe you were worried about me finding him and toying with him a little?”

As soon as Barloschios stood facing Vermon, the latter threw his scarf in the fireplace, but Barloschios did not seem alarmed. “Oh, dear. Vermon, Vermon, that was a golden-threaded precious scarf. A gift from me to Orb. Why did you do that?”

Barloschios sounded overly dramatic but not serious, his tone reflecting his good temperament and enjoyment of his time, and that provoked Vermon even more. Vermon swiftly shoved Orb against the wall and gave Barloschios a sudden blow on the chest with mad force; the latter could not avoid it in time.

“I had a score to settle if you remember,” Vermon smiled wryly at his opponent as he recalled the blow he received in Barloschios’ treasury three weeks ago[1]. Ever since Barloschios hit him, Vermon waited patiently for revenge, which Akinos’ intervention delayed.

Although the blow sent Barloschios staggering a few meters back, he grunted in pain but grinned again as he appreciated Vermon’s wish to fight him now.

“My word! I like it when you hold grudges!” Barloschios exclaimed.

Barloschios charged forward and attempted to punch Vermon with an Uthusian-charged palm, but the latter vanished. As soon as he appeared to his opponent’s right, Vermon fired an energy ball at his arm, which Barloschios avoided with a barrier he erected in time as he quickly wiped the air in front of him with his palm.

Vermon was quick to act as well when he teleported to Barloschios’ other side while pulling out Kinyongo[2] and swinging it at Barloschios, who leaped backward as he summoned his cane again to obstruct the glistening blade of Vermon with it in time.

***

The sound of the two glistening weapons’ contact rang through the destroyed room. Both men glided in the air, around the dunes of sand and on the walls like mad phantoms while exchanging vicious blows with their blades.

At one point, Vermon released Honsinu[3] and instigated a sandstorm, with its cord kicking the dunes haphazardly but swiftly until it was impossible to see.

Amidst that chaos, Barloschios spotted Vermon jumping high in the air and swooping down on him with Kinyongo. Still, his cane successfully pushed the heavy axe’s blade away and swished horizontally to cut Vermon’s stomach. Yet, he blocked its path with a swift movement of his axe before startling Barloschios with a kick in the stomach that sent him flying and blew more dust in the air.

Barloschios was about to receive a stab from the spear tip of Vermon’s axe in midair had it not been for Orb, who went on coughing and audibly struggling with his breathing. Therefore, Vermon satiated his anger with a slash across Barloschios’ chest, leaving a crimson stain over his elegant clothes.

“Burning your scarf was for gagging my slave, and the kick was for abducting him,” said Vermon as soon as he landed, “and this cut was for stripping him,” Vermon spoke with hatred. He returned his two weapons to his belt while his eyes followed his opponent, who landed and placed his hand on his wound, smiling.

Vermon grabbed Orb’s arm with force, reflecting his implicit fury, and pulled him away from the wall. “Let’s go,” Vermon spoke unsympathetically in a low voice.

He disappeared with Orb, leaving Barloschios standing in front of the fireplace. He sighed deeply as he watched the burning wood that had mercilessly eaten his silk scarf.

“That was adorable,” he chuckled. “Oh well, not everything we hunt is ours,” Barloschios shook his head. Looking around for a moment, his eyes glowed in excitement, “but I had fun today.”

***

End of Chapter (33)

[1] See Chapter 11.

[2] Kinyongo -Vermon’s two-blade Axe.

[3] Honsinu -Vermon’s Whip.