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<blockquote data-quote="havenstone" data-source="post: 4915846" data-attributes="member: 61094"><p><strong>The Minister of State</strong></p><p></p><p><strong><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">SLAVEMASTER DAORAN LEADS </span></strong><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">Ash, Carwyn, Kyla, Meeshak, and Ontaya back through the streets of Tziwan to the river Shanyang. Passing by the slave ferries, they approach an elegant barge whose upper decks are screened with fine jade and silver latticework. The shorn-headed Slavemaster raises the silver Xaimani symbol chained around his neck, and the spearmen standing guard outside the barge wordlessly swing their spears aside to let the slaves board. While the party stands on the empty lower decks, the barge slides out onto the vast, muddy river. Ash discreetly casts his eyes around, but can’t figure out how the barge is powered; there are no obvious oars or sails, and the movement feels perfectly smooth.</span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“The barge was a gift from the late Archmaster Feishou to the Ministry of State,” Daoran says, giving no other sign that he has noticed the party members’ curiosity. “The Rivermaster of Minister Tang can guide it with a thought. Our glorious Master possesses a widely known interest in the most useful Radiant Path arts. Other Ministers are equally renowned for their interest in... more brutal sorcery.” Ontaya recalls <a href="http://www.enworld.org/forum/4795855-post89.html" target="_blank">Archmaster Orozu</a> and thinks bleakly that for all of <a href="http://www.enworld.org/forum/4752842-post73.html" target="_blank">Curago</a>’s malice, she would not have wished him to end up in the hands of such a man.</span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“Tell me your names, Northerners,” the Slavemaster continues, and watches them intensely as they do so. “We will soon arrive at the Tang Estate. While it is understood that you are from barbarian lands, this must not be taken as license for offensive or shameful behavior. If you are slow to learn what is expected of you... our gracious Master is not cruel. The pain you experience will be no more nor less than what is required to speed your learning to an acceptable level. Do you understand?” The party members mumble their assent as the barge draws up to an ornate wooden dock. “Your first lesson: a name is a rare privilege. When you hear the cry of ‘Slave’, you will hasten to see whether you are the one being summoned. If any person should call you by your name, you will thank them for their kindness.”</span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">Minister Tang’s riverside home is a maze of gardens, groves, and outbuildings surrounding a lofty central mansion. The colors of jade green and silver recur deliberately throughout the estate; the leaves of the trees, the creeping orchid vines in the garden, and the exterior friezes of the mansion are all dominated by those two colors. As they walk through the scented walkways, Kyla and Ontaya note the spearmen and archers discreetly stationed at strategic points. Despite the air of serenity, the estate could quickly be sealed against any unwanted intruder.</span></p><p></p><p><strong><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">ON THE LOWER</span></strong><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'"> floors of the mansion countless slaves are busily at work cleaning, cooking, and running errands. While the Northerners see a few fascinated glances stolen in their direction, for the most part the slaves of the Estate keep their heads down and studiously ignore anything that is not part of their assigned task. Daoran shows the new slaves to a washroom. “It is expected that all slaves, however lowly, will remain clean. You will bathe every day – beginning now.”</span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">The Northerners blink at the wildly unhealthy notion of a daily bath, but do not protest. They strip, wash themselves in tepid water, and don new slaveclothes in a far finer cut than the ones they wore on the road. When they emerge, Daoran has been joined by two new slaves wearing the Tang Estate’s garb: a short man with pale golden skin and flat features, and a slender woman with dark brown skin, graying black hair, and a silver pendant. “You didn’t tell me the women had children, Slavemaster,” she says pensively.</span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“One hopes that is not relevant to their skills,” the weathered slave replies.</span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">The woman strides over to Carywn and Kyla, pinching and prodding them in a way that stops just short of being painful. “Turn around,” she commands. “No, your eye was good, Slavemaster. Do you dance, girls?”</span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">Carwyn <a href="http://www.enworld.org/forum/4440905-post35.html" target="_blank">nods</a>, managing to find some trace of enthusiasm. Kyla inclines her head doubtfully.</span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“Slavemistress Shushila will teach you to entertain the Minister’s guests in dance and song,” Daoran states to the two women. “You two,” indicating Ash and Meeshak, “will begin your training as messengers, bearing the Minister’s letters to the city and carrying out any other public errands required of you. Follow Slave Chosdzed, who will teach you the duties of an errand slave.”</span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“You honor me, Slavemaster,” Chosdzed says, bowing low.</span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">Daoran turns to Ontaya. “You will follow me.” Leaving the other party members with their respective trainers, the two of them begin to climb a mahogany staircase. “You will begin Slavemistress training, learning what is expected of the slaves who manage the Estate. Do any of you have experience in the court of your land – serving Ministers there, or the equivalent?”</span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“I do,” Ontaya offers.</span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“Good,” Daoran says shortly. “The Minister asked me to bring him one of the Northern slaves, and I know he will have many questions.” The two of them pass several elaborately armored guards and enter a perfumed chamber where musicians are playing on the Xaimani lyre. Two young slave boys stand at either side of a great cascade of silk curtains. As Daoran sinks to his knees, the boys begin to pull back the curtains. Ontaya smoothly prostrates herself.</span></p><p></p><p><strong><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“RISE.” ONTAYA LOOKS </span></strong><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">upcautiously and sees a corpulent Xaimani resting in a nest of cushions. He is wearing light robes of what looks like linen, and multiple jeweled rings on each finger; his long black hair runs in plaits down his back. As Daoran and Ontaya approach the Minister, she notices that his skin glistens with scented oil. Though everything about his posture bespeaks laziness, his eyes are piercing and inquisitive. “What is your name, slave?”</span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">Ontaya’s voice is perfectly level. “I am my Master’s servant. I understand I have no name unless it pleases him.”</span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">Daoran’s face does not move, but Ontaya feels his satisfaction. The Minister’s lips curve slightly upward. “It pleases me to know what you were called in your Northern Empire.”</span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“You honor me, Master, and I thank you. I was called Ontaya.”</span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“Who rules in your Empire? How many states does it encompass?”</span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">Ontaya pauses. “The North is not a single Empire, Master. There are five civilized realms – Senallin, Caragon, Aradur, Kedris, and Velnar – and several barbarian nations around the periphery. Ones which we considered barbarian, that is: Arawai, Chraman, Harakra, Maenon, Megrim. Then there were the Sea People – the Kells and Sturmlanders – and the nomads – the Sufza and Jendae, who are known also in the South. I was born and raised in Senallin, so it is the kingdom I know best.”</span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">The Xaimani lord listens with obvious fascination. “Do you know what a ‘map’ is? Can you draw one for me?” When Ontaya nods to both questions, he gestures sharply at a servant, and a scroll is produced of some material far thinner and less brittle than the parchment and vellum Ontaya knows from her homeland. Ontaya does her best to sketch an <a href="http://www.enworld.org/forum/4323461-post2.html" target="_blank">outline</a> of her known geography, with the names written in Northron. </span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“Your people read and write, obviously,” the Minister notes, poring over the crude map with an infinitely satisfied expression. “Tomorrow I will send functionaries from the Ministry for you to tutor in your tongue and script. What gods do you worship?”</span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“Master, we worship Ain, the One. I believe the people of Xaiman know Ain as <a href="http://www.enworld.org/forum/4779583-post83.html" target="_blank">Ii</a>.”</span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“Yes, I have heard that you recognize Ii in a clearer form than the Arawai or Lakshari.” Minister Tang purses his lips. “Why did you invade Arawai?”</span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">A fragment of <a href="http://www.enworld.org/forum/4371169-post20.html" target="_blank">verse</a> floats into Ontaya’s memory: <em>To tame the horse and till the plain, and teach them all the fear of Ain</em>. “The nations of the North wanted to live in the northern plains, Master. To stop Arawai raids, but mostly to open up new land and make new cities.”</span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“How many of your legions survived the invasion?”</span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“I do not know, Master. I was taken as a slave, and do not know how many may have escaped.”</span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“Which nations provide most of your slaves in the North?”</span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“We do not have slaves in the North, Master.”</span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">The Minister pauses, brow furrowing in confusion. “I thought she understood Xaimani well, Slavemaster.”</span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“Her understanding is quite good, Master,” Daoran says uncomfortably.</span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">The Minister tries again. “In the North, who are the slaves and who are the masters?”</span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“Master, in the North, a man may serve a noble family for oath or money, or be bound by law to the land his family works... but men do not own other men.”</span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">The uneasiness in the Minister’s half-comprehending eyes is not echoed in his suddenly hard voice. “You will explain to me everything about the politics of your realm, Slave Ontaya.”</span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“You honor me, Master,” Ontaya says quietly.</span></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="havenstone, post: 4915846, member: 61094"] [b]The Minister of State[/b] [B][FONT=Verdana]SLAVEMASTER DAORAN LEADS [/FONT][/B][FONT=Verdana]Ash, Carwyn, Kyla, Meeshak, and Ontaya back through the streets of Tziwan to the river Shanyang. Passing by the slave ferries, they approach an elegant barge whose upper decks are screened with fine jade and silver latticework. The shorn-headed Slavemaster raises the silver Xaimani symbol chained around his neck, and the spearmen standing guard outside the barge wordlessly swing their spears aside to let the slaves board. While the party stands on the empty lower decks, the barge slides out onto the vast, muddy river. Ash discreetly casts his eyes around, but can’t figure out how the barge is powered; there are no obvious oars or sails, and the movement feels perfectly smooth.[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“The barge was a gift from the late Archmaster Feishou to the Ministry of State,” Daoran says, giving no other sign that he has noticed the party members’ curiosity. “The Rivermaster of Minister Tang can guide it with a thought. Our glorious Master possesses a widely known interest in the most useful Radiant Path arts. Other Ministers are equally renowned for their interest in... more brutal sorcery.” Ontaya recalls [URL="http://www.enworld.org/forum/4795855-post89.html"]Archmaster Orozu[/URL] and thinks bleakly that for all of [URL="http://www.enworld.org/forum/4752842-post73.html"]Curago[/URL]’s malice, she would not have wished him to end up in the hands of such a man.[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“Tell me your names, Northerners,” the Slavemaster continues, and watches them intensely as they do so. “We will soon arrive at the Tang Estate. While it is understood that you are from barbarian lands, this must not be taken as license for offensive or shameful behavior. If you are slow to learn what is expected of you... our gracious Master is not cruel. The pain you experience will be no more nor less than what is required to speed your learning to an acceptable level. Do you understand?” The party members mumble their assent as the barge draws up to an ornate wooden dock. “Your first lesson: a name is a rare privilege. When you hear the cry of ‘Slave’, you will hasten to see whether you are the one being summoned. If any person should call you by your name, you will thank them for their kindness.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]Minister Tang’s riverside home is a maze of gardens, groves, and outbuildings surrounding a lofty central mansion. The colors of jade green and silver recur deliberately throughout the estate; the leaves of the trees, the creeping orchid vines in the garden, and the exterior friezes of the mansion are all dominated by those two colors. As they walk through the scented walkways, Kyla and Ontaya note the spearmen and archers discreetly stationed at strategic points. Despite the air of serenity, the estate could quickly be sealed against any unwanted intruder.[/FONT] [B][FONT=Verdana]ON THE LOWER[/FONT][/B][FONT=Verdana] floors of the mansion countless slaves are busily at work cleaning, cooking, and running errands. While the Northerners see a few fascinated glances stolen in their direction, for the most part the slaves of the Estate keep their heads down and studiously ignore anything that is not part of their assigned task. Daoran shows the new slaves to a washroom. “It is expected that all slaves, however lowly, will remain clean. You will bathe every day – beginning now.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]The Northerners blink at the wildly unhealthy notion of a daily bath, but do not protest. They strip, wash themselves in tepid water, and don new slaveclothes in a far finer cut than the ones they wore on the road. When they emerge, Daoran has been joined by two new slaves wearing the Tang Estate’s garb: a short man with pale golden skin and flat features, and a slender woman with dark brown skin, graying black hair, and a silver pendant. “You didn’t tell me the women had children, Slavemaster,” she says pensively.[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“One hopes that is not relevant to their skills,” the weathered slave replies.[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]The woman strides over to Carywn and Kyla, pinching and prodding them in a way that stops just short of being painful. “Turn around,” she commands. “No, your eye was good, Slavemaster. Do you dance, girls?”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]Carwyn [URL="http://www.enworld.org/forum/4440905-post35.html"]nods[/URL], managing to find some trace of enthusiasm. Kyla inclines her head doubtfully.[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“Slavemistress Shushila will teach you to entertain the Minister’s guests in dance and song,” Daoran states to the two women. “You two,” indicating Ash and Meeshak, “will begin your training as messengers, bearing the Minister’s letters to the city and carrying out any other public errands required of you. Follow Slave Chosdzed, who will teach you the duties of an errand slave.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“You honor me, Slavemaster,” Chosdzed says, bowing low.[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]Daoran turns to Ontaya. “You will follow me.” Leaving the other party members with their respective trainers, the two of them begin to climb a mahogany staircase. “You will begin Slavemistress training, learning what is expected of the slaves who manage the Estate. Do any of you have experience in the court of your land – serving Ministers there, or the equivalent?”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“I do,” Ontaya offers.[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“Good,” Daoran says shortly. “The Minister asked me to bring him one of the Northern slaves, and I know he will have many questions.” The two of them pass several elaborately armored guards and enter a perfumed chamber where musicians are playing on the Xaimani lyre. Two young slave boys stand at either side of a great cascade of silk curtains. As Daoran sinks to his knees, the boys begin to pull back the curtains. Ontaya smoothly prostrates herself.[/FONT] [B][FONT=Verdana]“RISE.” ONTAYA LOOKS [/FONT][/B][FONT=Verdana]upcautiously and sees a corpulent Xaimani resting in a nest of cushions. He is wearing light robes of what looks like linen, and multiple jeweled rings on each finger; his long black hair runs in plaits down his back. As Daoran and Ontaya approach the Minister, she notices that his skin glistens with scented oil. Though everything about his posture bespeaks laziness, his eyes are piercing and inquisitive. “What is your name, slave?”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]Ontaya’s voice is perfectly level. “I am my Master’s servant. I understand I have no name unless it pleases him.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]Daoran’s face does not move, but Ontaya feels his satisfaction. The Minister’s lips curve slightly upward. “It pleases me to know what you were called in your Northern Empire.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“You honor me, Master, and I thank you. I was called Ontaya.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“Who rules in your Empire? How many states does it encompass?”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]Ontaya pauses. “The North is not a single Empire, Master. There are five civilized realms – Senallin, Caragon, Aradur, Kedris, and Velnar – and several barbarian nations around the periphery. Ones which we considered barbarian, that is: Arawai, Chraman, Harakra, Maenon, Megrim. Then there were the Sea People – the Kells and Sturmlanders – and the nomads – the Sufza and Jendae, who are known also in the South. I was born and raised in Senallin, so it is the kingdom I know best.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]The Xaimani lord listens with obvious fascination. “Do you know what a ‘map’ is? Can you draw one for me?” When Ontaya nods to both questions, he gestures sharply at a servant, and a scroll is produced of some material far thinner and less brittle than the parchment and vellum Ontaya knows from her homeland. Ontaya does her best to sketch an [URL="http://www.enworld.org/forum/4323461-post2.html"]outline[/URL] of her known geography, with the names written in Northron. [/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“Your people read and write, obviously,” the Minister notes, poring over the crude map with an infinitely satisfied expression. “Tomorrow I will send functionaries from the Ministry for you to tutor in your tongue and script. What gods do you worship?”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“Master, we worship Ain, the One. I believe the people of Xaiman know Ain as [URL="http://www.enworld.org/forum/4779583-post83.html"]Ii[/URL].”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“Yes, I have heard that you recognize Ii in a clearer form than the Arawai or Lakshari.” Minister Tang purses his lips. “Why did you invade Arawai?”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]A fragment of [URL="http://www.enworld.org/forum/4371169-post20.html"]verse[/URL] floats into Ontaya’s memory: [I]To tame the horse and till the plain, and teach them all the fear of Ain[/I]. “The nations of the North wanted to live in the northern plains, Master. To stop Arawai raids, but mostly to open up new land and make new cities.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“How many of your legions survived the invasion?”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“I do not know, Master. I was taken as a slave, and do not know how many may have escaped.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“Which nations provide most of your slaves in the North?”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“We do not have slaves in the North, Master.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]The Minister pauses, brow furrowing in confusion. “I thought she understood Xaimani well, Slavemaster.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“Her understanding is quite good, Master,” Daoran says uncomfortably.[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]The Minister tries again. “In the North, who are the slaves and who are the masters?”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“Master, in the North, a man may serve a noble family for oath or money, or be bound by law to the land his family works... but men do not own other men.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]The uneasiness in the Minister’s half-comprehending eyes is not echoed in his suddenly hard voice. “You will explain to me everything about the politics of your realm, Slave Ontaya.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“You honor me, Master,” Ontaya says quietly.[/FONT] [/QUOTE]
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