Chapter 216: 90 Gaw: A Hard Time Dealing with Success
Chapter 216: 90 Gaw: A Hard Time Dealing with Success
Chaviv stares down from his elevated throne at the naked man that confidently walks into the room, practically spitting at the formal traditions. The crowd of [Nobles] mutter and gossip at the brazen display. Their sights focus on the man and then up to him. They are nervous, but also excited. Those who were upset by the man’s spending now smile with glee. They can taste the blood in the water and they expect a very thorough punishment.
Taking a moment, he releases his aura and feels up the crowd. He assesses the situation, easily finding the bloodthirst so very present, but he also senses pity, respect, and even lust. Which is understandable. Bones body is chiseled with muscle, his skin is clear of scars and hair, and the size between his legs would give all of Chaviv’s male [Courtesans] a run for their levels.
Thankfully, the [Palace Guards] are trained in stoicism. Other than glaring, they stay professional, refusing to move or do anything that breaks protocol. Instead, they watch as the man saunters up and stops before the slightly raised dais. Chaviv allows several seconds to pass before he raises his hand and the entire room goes silent.
The [Sultan] looks at the man and the man stares back with aplomb. Chaviv’s aura pulls in from the edges of the room to coil around Bone, wrapping him in its presence, but unable to touch the audacious man. Bone’s own aura drapes his skin, serving as a shield against outward influence. Chaviv probes the man’s aura, searching for… Ah, there it is. Chaviv senses a kindred spirit and smiles.
“Mr. Bone,” he greets his guest, “it seems there has been a misunderstanding.” He stands up and beckons him. “Come, follow me to my private chambers so we may talk.”
He looks at the stunned audience. Even Bone wears a slightly confused expression. “This trial is cancelled,” Chaviv announces. “Exit the premises.”
Many in the audience look like they’re on the verge of yelling and screaming in outrage, but no one dares to. The [Sultan] walks away. One of the [Palace Guards] rushes up to Bone and directs the confused man to follow Chaviv.
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Chaviv, like every [Sultan], has a private wing of his palace devoted to himself. His feet take him through halls of statues, naked bodies displaying their… amenities. Statuesque men flex their muscles, sultry women flaunt their curves. Some of the installations are of figures in isolation, but many more capture men and women in the midst of carnal pleasure. All species are represented in myriad combinations, their finely detailed genitalia hidden by nothing more than each other. Eventually, after passing by a hundred statues, the [Sultan] arrives at his chambers. As he nears, two naked [Slave Maids] open his chamber’s doors. He enters and extends his arms outwards. He smiles as his cape and toga are finally removed so he can enjoy the ultimate freedom.
His abode, like the hallway, is a testament to the natural form; to laying bare one’s truest self. Paintings, sketches, mosaics, and statuary all pay homage to the Nude. Each piece is of the same subject, a likeness of Chaviv himself in his most glorious form. Whether it is a mere sketch of himself drinking tea, or a mural of himself in the midst of an orgy with all of his [Slaves], regardless, it is his beauty incarnate.
He flexes his toes on the shag carpet, bought at the Grand Auction years ago for an exorbitant price. Every time Chaviv feels the soft caress of the rug against his soles, he knows it was worth every drachme. Without the restrictions of cloth, the chamber is kept at the perfect temperature and humidity, providing a warm and relaxing environment for his activities. Ignoring the luxurious bed and the stand of “sensual aids,” he walks to one of his royal griffin armchairs, upon which he sits. His skin tingles at the pleasant sensation of sinking into the cushion.
He turns to the entrance just in time to watch his two maids remove Bone’s robe and hat at the threshold of his abode. Bone walks inside and pauses. He looks down and wiggles his toes. His reaction puts a smile on Chaviv’s face. Few even attempt to appreciate the splendor of a fluffy carpet on one’s flesh.
Chaviv gestures to one of the empty chairs. “Please, come and sit.”
Bone nods. He walks up to the chair across from Chaviv and sits down, releasing a pleasing groan that makes Chaviv’s smile widen. He raises his hand. “Fetch us some wine,” he calls out. Both of the [Slave Maids] bow and leave.
The [Sultan] takes a more scrutinizing look at his guest, and like before, the most impressive feature of Bone is the complete lack of any body hair. Even a woman would have some, especially something between the legs, but Bone lacks even that. Truly, Chaviv is rather jealous, if not a little turned on.
“It has been a while since I’ve met someone who has as much respect for the natural body as I do,” he chuckles, “though I must say, even I wouldn’t want to reveal all my glory to the public.”
“Yeah, the audience chamber was a bit cold,” Bone replies while looking at the various pieces of art on the walls.
The maids return with two glasses and a bottle of wine. Dark violet-red liquid is poured into twin wine glasses. Each taking a glass, the maids bring the beverages to the host and guest. The two women lithely climb onto the laps the men, skin rubbing skin as the maids raise the glasses to the men’s lips and offer them a drink. Chaviv and Bone do so, after which the women slip away and stand at the side, ready to be called for a sip again.
“Mmmm, yes,” Chaviv licks his lips, having enjoyed the taste of wine and the caress of warm flesh, “yes, that chamber is rather cold. I would so love to disable the cooling runes, but that would upset the [Nobles] who find it imperative to wear clothing.” He shakes his head. “Those fools, I truly pity them and their shortsightedness.”
Bone grunts as he tries to understand exactly what the fuck is going on.
Chaviv raises his hands and stretches while brushing his skin upon the chair’s pleasant fur, “Tell me, Mister Bone… I’ve felt your Aura, tasted it with my own. It’s clear to me that you are some kind of [King]. What kingdom do you rule?”
“A southern one… a far southern one. You have probably not heard of it.”
“That explains so much,” Chaviv groans, “I have been searching for a like-minded ruler to meet and speak with. I have searched many kingdoms over the decades, sent hundreds of people to all the great nations, but never did I think to look deep into the south,” he sighs after a moment and favors Bone with a relaxed expression. “Truly, finding a partner that enjoys the freedom of flesh and rules a kingdom is a rare thing.”
“Er, what ar-”
Chaviv raises his hands. “I know what you are going to say, and I don’t mind. A love between men is just as strong as one between two opposite sexes.”
“That’s not-”
“Yes, we could never birth a child. Unfortunately true, but that is what [Slave Concubines] are for. So long as we have each other, we can make it work.”
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Bone releases a breath he did not even realize he was holding. This was not the plan. This is nowhere near what the plan was supposed to be. The plan was a genius in its elegant simplicity, its wily manipulations and machinations the truest form subtle pressures. Where did his foolproof scheme go wrong?
He shakes his head and reaches for the wine glass that the maid is holding, but she steps back outside his reach.
“Allow me, sir,” she whispers demurely before sitting gracefully in his lap and pressing her sensuous body against his own. Once again, she raises the glass to his lips and allows him a sip while her hips move slowly, teasing him.
Which would normally be gratifying if the [Sultan], or rather, [Flesh Sultan], wasn’t looking to have rigorous anal sex with him.
Yeah, Bone notes, that’s where the plan went wrong.
Eventually, Bone finishes the glass of wine and the wiggling stops. The maid looks down and pouts at the man’s self control.
“I will get you more,” she whispers before sliding off him and rushing out.
“Chaviv, I want to ask you something.”
The [Sultan]’s roaming eyes find their way back to Bone’s face. “Ask away,” he purrs.
“I want to travel to Luxor, but apparently I need a [Runic Slave] to cross the desert safely or to hitch a ride with a caravan that has a [Runic Slave]. I don’t suppose you can help me with that?”
Chaviv nods. “Ah, you wish to obtain acknowledgement from the [Empress] of our love. That is a most pleasing prospect,” he taps his lips. “Unfortunately, the laws are difficult for me to change. Especially the ones regarding the [Runic Slaves].”
“Damn,” Bone says. “And what about joining the caravans? I asked to join one for the trip but they said foreigners aren’t allowed to make such requests.”
Chaviv nods slowly. The [Sultan] shifts his position and lowers one of his legs, revealing a raging boner that Bone didn’t notice before. “That also I cannot do anything about as the laws are very strict, but, you are in a position to make a deal.”
“I am?”
“You bought a [Slave], did you not?”
“I did.”
“[Slaves], Mister Bone, are considered the arms of a master. So long as your arm makes the request, then the law is still followed.”
“Sounds like a big loophole.”
Chaviv’s extension twitches as a hungry look glints in his eye. He leans forward like a predator ready to pounce. “[Slaves] of our desert cannot be directly purchased by foreigners. The only exception is through the auction, which is a rarity. It is such a small oversight that the [Empress] has not seen fit to correct it.”
“Chaviv,” Bone quickly raises his hand and practically jumps off of his seat. “Great talking with you. All this…” he gestures vaguely, “conversing has been nice, but I have to do stuff.” he rushes out quickly. He grabs his mask, staff, and hat before practically sprinting out of the room and down the hallway.
As Bone runs off, the [Slave Maid] returns with a fresh glass of wine alongside a bag filled with whips, chains, and variously sized toys.
She pouts in disappointment, as does the [Sultan].
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A naked man running through the street early in the morning is an interesting scene to behold. He sprints at full speed, clearing distances similar to a [Courier]. He dodges people, hops over wagons, climbs over buildings, and eventually arrives at his inn in record time. He enters and rushes up the stairs.
With a fling of his arm, he pushes aside the cloth covering of the first room. “ABERNICK!” he practically screams.
The [Grand Necromancer] jumps awake. His eyes quickly find Quasi, who is completely naked and panting.
“We’re leaving now! Get dressed!” he orders and rushes to the next room.
He slaps open the next cloth covering and screams, “JESSICA!”
“QUASI, WHY ARE YOU NAKED!?” she screams back.
“We’re leaving now! Get your shit!”
He goes to the third room and violently rips up the offending fake door.
“FIO-” he stops mid shout, arrested by a sultry, unsavory, and utterly fascinating scene.
Fiona lies chained on the bed, completely naked. Naunet kneels astride her, also naked, holding a burning candle with a pool of wax.
“We’re leaving in twenty minutes!”