The Mist and the Lightning. Part 19

“You’re not in my team, Vitor.”

“What?” Kors was surprised.

“You are not from my team,” Arel repeated, “I didn’t accept you into the team, and you didn’t pass the initiation.”

Kors was even taken aback:

“Well, take me into the team! What is the problem? Or am I not worthy of being in the team, but simply speaking, in the gang of Prince Arel?”

“We have always voted before accepting a new team member.”

Kors rolled his eyes.

“I am in charge of my team, and the final decision remains with me,” Arel continued, ignoring the mocking expression on Kors’ face. “But to make everything fair, I always gave everyone the right to vote and took into account the interests of my team members. If the majority was in favour, the newcomer had to be initiated and volunteer to become my slave. I myself decided where I would put my brand and what size it would be.”

“Holy shit, how many conditions!” Kors was indignant. “What the heck! I’m ready for anything, I’ve been your slave for so long!”

“You are not my slave. Nik just gave you to me for a while as a gift.”

“I don’t see much difference.”

“You know, Vitor, how I treat my slaves, aren’t you afraid?” Arel looked at him, narrowing his eyes cunningly.

“No! After everything that has already happened to me, I’m not afraid of anything!”

“A member of my team must carry out my orders and tasks,” Arel continued, “whatever I order. What if I order you to go and collect money from the townspeople in my street?”

“I’ll do it! And I bet I can do it just as good as Nik. When they see me, they will be even more scared!”

“Do you agree to be mine, to obey me? Do you want to be a member of my team? Think again carefully so you don’t regret it later!”

“What are you saying to me?” Kors shouted. “I agree to all your terms, what should I do now?”

“First, we must vote whether to accept you at all or not,” said Arel, “since now only I, Nik and Tol are here from my team, then two votes in your favor will be enough. I’m not against you, Vitor. I vote yes, I’m in favor of having you in the team. Nik?”

“I’m also for daddy in our team!” Nik snapped back. He finally threw off his heavy bear cloak from his shoulders, and, going up to Arel, sat down next to him on the bed, watching with obvious interest what was happening.

“So, it makes no sense to call Tol,” Arel summed up, “in any case, there will be two votes against one.”

“I’m sure Tol would be in favor too,” Nik put in.

“Yes, I think so too,” Arel agreed. “Vitor Kors, we want to see you in our team and voted for you unanimously.”

Kors barely suppressed a condescending grin.

“Thank you, prince.”

“Now you must follow my orders. It will be your initiation, and if you pass it, you will remain in the team,” said Arel.

“Well?” Kors, slightly smiling, looked at such a serious Arel without any respect, although he himself asked to be a part of his team. “Everything is so difficult for you, it turns out. Frankly, I didn’t expect such complex actions from you, Prince Arel. What task do I have to complete? I even became interested.”

Arel turned to Nik, who was sitting next to him:

“Nik, tell Verniy to bring someone who gets caught first.”

“Well,” Nik said readily.

Arel kicked Valentine:

“Get under the bed and don’t make a sound!”

Valentine hurriedly lay face down on the floor, crawled under their bed and lay still there.

Verniy appeared very quickly, and under the elbow he led the slave girl. She was wearing a leather muzzle, and in her hands was a large wicker basket.

“Here,” Verniy reported, “she was walking along the corridor. Will she fit?”

“Yes,” Arel nodded.

Leaving the girl in the room, Verniy left. The slave girl stood where he had left her, clutching the basket with both hands, lowering her eyes to the floor and not moving.

“I can already guess what I will have to do,” Kors drawled somewhat disappointedly. “Everything is very predictable. So what? Should I fuck her? I don’t want to, of course, but I’ll try.” Kors approached the slave, looking at her thoughtfully. Walking around, he took the girl by the long black braid, decorated with multi-colored beads woven into it:

“Hmm…” he said and, letting go of the girl’s braid, wrinkled his nose, “she stinks so hard, Arel, can I make her wash at least?”

“You don’t have to fuck her,” Arel replied.

“Seriously? What a twist! What should I do with her then?”

“Kill.”

“Kill?! Oh!”

“You must kill her,” Arel repeated, “right now.”

Kors shrugged.

“Okay. Fine. How?”

“As you wish.”

Without specifying anything else, Kors again approached the girl, who absolutely didn’t react to what was happening, being in some kind of stupor and at the same time reverently delighted that the higher ones turned their attention to her. She didn’t seem to hear what they were talking about at all. Her emotions now reminded Kors very much of those of a blue janitor slave in the Limit. Everything was the same: fear and euphoria.

Kors pulled the basket.