The Sapphire Slave

Parties were second nature to the merchant lord; Baltsaros owned trading posts all across Ridia, and had whole towns rectified in his honor. For as long as Azra could remember, Baltsaros has been the richest man alive. With his wealth and empire, came many, many friends; some of whom were business partners, others who were dignitaries, both foreign and domestic. Many, many people across Greenwald and Ridia knew the Banyam trade empire, and some even believed that the man had more money than even the king.

The grandeur of Baltsaros’ estate was rivaled only by the palace in Greenwald; built outside the city walls, atop a rolling hill, his villa was surrounded by sandstone walls with magnificent bronze gates, decorated with the likeness of various deities and creatures of myth. Once through the gates, one would stroll through beautiful gardens dotted with birdbaths, painted statues, and fountains that seemed to drip liquid silver. Surrounding the perimeter of Baltsaros’ villa was a wide veranda, surrounded by ornate pillars that held up a flat ceiling; here, one could enjoy a tea in the shade, a candlelit dinner at night, or simply listen to the song of birds who played in the waters of the garden. Once one stepped inside from the veranda, they would enter the cool interior of the merchant lord’s villa; immediately inside was the wide dining room, featuring a long feasting table under a high-vaulted ceiling. Dotting the left and right sides of the room were busts of the last ten kings of Ridia, each hand-painted, sitting atop ornate pedestals. Beyond the dining hall, one would find the kitchen, the servant’s quarters, Baltsaros’ study, and the master bedroom. Many other rooms could be found in the villa, but most went unused; Baltsaros spent much of his time either in his study or in his extravagant vault underneath the villa. Azra had yet to even see the vault in his tenure and wasn’t sure he ever would.

It was not long before party guests began to arrive. Baltsaros needn’t even send a messenger; it was expected, after each of Azra’s victory, for the merchant lord to celebrate. Each victory not only solidified Azra’s reputation across the city, but made Baltsaros richer and richer from the arena betting pots, and not a silver was spared on any occasion. More and more guests arrived as the day turned closer into night; most needn’t even see Baltsaros before they began to make themselves at home, having done this hundreds of times before. Most early arrivals were city nobles—business owners, skilled artisans, sculptors, jewelers, bankers, and the like.

The feast began early and would last quite some time. First rounds were light foods—olives, pomegranates, small meats and cheeses served with white wines and light ales. Guests mingled amongst one another in the dining hall and on the veranda as servants and slaves alike moved through the party to assure each guest was happy. In these early hours, Baltsaros excused himself to his study to finish some booking, leaving Azra to mingle with the guests.

“Oh, my dear, when you put your foot on that poor man’s chest I was absolutely breathless!” Lady Hark clutched her pearl necklace as she spoke. She was a skinny lady, but tall, with dark hair and skin to match; her husband was a banker, and while he worked she liked to enjoy herself however she wanted. She had become a regular at the villa. And now she, with two other acquaintances of Baltsaros, stood with Azra on the veranda, each with a cup of wine in their hands. “I nearly couldn’t believe you’d done it! I’d wanted you to win, of course, but that man had a reputation!”

“Of course, no one can best the most skilled fighter in all of Greenwald,” said Razim next, one of Baltsaros’ business partners. “This city has a reputation to uphold. Between you and my Yonca”—he gestured to a pale woman who kept her distance, dressed in full steel plate with a claymore off her back. His personal bodyguard—“I can’t tell who the best fighter in all of Ridia could be.”

It was Bijan who spoke next—a jeweler who’d crafted much of Baltsaros’ accessories. “It was a stunning display! To see you dance with such grace, one could hardly see a struggle.”

“I can’t believe it myself, either,” Azra said. “Thank you for your praise. I shall count each day after today a blessing.”

Lady Hark playfully touched Azra’s arm. He had since changed into a simple tunic, trousers, and boots, yet still wore his scimitar at his side. “We all knew you’d make it, Azra. Baltsaros is too rich for the gods to let down,” she said, and the group burst into laughter.

“And I had to root for my fellow Sapphire—what kind of freedman would I be had I not?” He flashed the sapphire that decorated his forearm. It was true that Bijan had once been a fighter, just like Azra, but once his master had died, he’d earned his freedom. Sapphires were the few slaves who were often granted this privilege; other, less profitable slaves, were often passed on to other masters, or sold once more.

Razim jibed Bijan, saying, “I remember back in your day, you were skillful as well. But of course, you’re now a mere raisin in comparison to this champion!” They erupted into laughter again, and the night continued in this fashion; with drinks and jokes, food followed, and more guests entered through the bronze gates. One wine went, and then another, and Azra felt himself stumble through the night. As darkness set over Greenwald, and the gold and silver stars came to look down upon them, Azra was forced back into reality when two guests of honor rode through the gates.

Prince Abel Nazif wore his pearl-white cape over his finely-stitched, neatly-fitted black vested suit, with modest silver and gold jewels decorating his neck, fingers, and wrists. He rode to the villa atop a gleaming white horse, and as he entered each guest turned to him and cheered. In his wake, came his entourage: bodyguards in silver plate, all surrounding one woman who rode a matching mare: Prince Abel’s concubine, Idris.

Idris was largely agreed upon as the most beautiful woman in Ridia, so beautiful in fact that Prince Abel dared not to marry her; he claimed that a woman so beautiful could not belong to any man, only herself. Tonight, she was dressed in an ensemble of white silk; harem pants and a loose top, with a sheer headdress that layered over her dark hair. In the very center of her forehead sat a white diamond, tying her outfit together. Not only was she a slave, but she was one of the three women left to wear that jewel.

For as long as Ridia has existed, slaves have been branded with jewels, each one representing a different duty or skill. Azra and Bijan were both Sapphires—they were arena combatants, fighting for the wealth of their masters. Idris, a Diamond, was a royal concubine. Previous princes and kings had tens of Diamonds at their disposal, but King Nazif had swore off concubines, and Prince Abel kept only three, who he named the most beautiful women in the world. Now, to see a Diamond was to see a goddess walk the earth.