After the Victory

The Firelands

The dust of battle still clung to Liandrin's skin as she entered the courtyard of her mother's house. Her battle armor was cracked, and the blood of rebels had dried on her hands. Yet her eyes burned with the glow of victory. She had not only won the battle, but had also taken ten new slaves from the enemy camp as spoils of war.

Kairen knelt at the entrance to the courtyard, his head lowered, hands resting on his thighs. Beside him, nine other men knelt in a row, each wearing a newly forged iron collar around his neck.

Liandrin dismounted her horse. Her leather boots echoed across the stone courtyard. She stopped in front of the line of slaves, towering over all of them. Her shadow fell across their frightened faces.

“Welcome to my home, slaves,” she said, her voice calm but heavy. “You belong to me now. Your breaths, your steps, your gazes—everything belongs to me. Do you understand?”

The slaves all bowed their heads.

Except Kairen.

His eyes remained lowered, but his lips were pressed tightly together.

Liandrin stepped closer. She slid the tip of her boot beneath his chin and **** his head upward.

“You still have that defiant look, Kairen. Do you think that because I bought you in a market rather than capturing you on a battlefield, your place is somehow different?”

Kairen took a deep breath.

“No, my lady. I only thought... perhaps victory had put you in a better mood.”

Liandrin laughed—a short, cold laugh.

Then she removed her boot from beneath his chin and placed it on his shoulder. With a firm shove, she pushed him backward until he fell onto the ground.

“Get up and clean my boots,” she said. “With your tongue.”

Kairen's eyes widened.

The other men held their breath.

Yet Kairen did not hesitate. He crawled on all fours toward her feet, lowered his face, and began licking the dust and dried blood from her boots.

Liandrin glanced at the newly acquired slaves.

“Pay close attention. A month ago, this man was free. Now he uses his tongue to clean my shoes. Your fate will be no better unless you prove yourselves.”

She placed her foot on Kairen's back and pressed him firmly against the ground.

A weak groan escaped him.

With the sole of her boot, she slowly increased the pressure against his lower spine.

“Remember this, Kairen. Every time you give me that rebellious look, remember how it felt to be beneath my feet.”

Then she removed her foot and headed toward the veranda.

“Take them to the baths and give them new clothes. Tomorrow morning, I want them all in the hall.”

The next morning, Liandrin sat upon her ceremonial seat in the great

had been carved from firewood trees and covered with tiger skins.

The ten new slaves knelt before her in simple, short garments. Kairen was the closest among them.

Her mother, Valeria, sat beside her, drinking tea.

“My daughter, these aren't much use for training. They belong in the fields, nothing more.”

Liandrin smiled.

“Mother, sometimes training someone is a battle in itself. And I love battles.”

She pointed toward one of the new slaves.

“You. Come forward.”

A man with dark hair and frightened eyes crawled toward her.

Liandrin stretched out a leg and rested her foot on his shoulder.

“What is your name?”

“Eldin, my lady.”

“Eldin, from today onward, it will be your duty to clean my feet every night. Do you know how to do that?”

He shook his head.

“No, my lady... but I will learn.”

Liandrin extended her bare foot toward him.

“Then begin.”

With trembling hands, Eldin took hold of her foot and started massaging it.

Liandrin frowned.

“Not with your hands.”

The other men watched in silence.

Eldin swallowed hard and complied, doing as he was ordered despite his discomfort.

Liandrin leaned back against her seat.

“Better. But not enough.”

Valeria smiled.

“This one needs more training, daughter.”

Liandrin rose and stood before him.

“Move aside. Kairen, come here.”

Kairen crawled forward.

Liandrin took his hand and pressed his palm against her cheek.

“Look at me.”

Kairen met her gaze.

“You are smarter than the others,” Liandrin said. “I knew that from the first day. But intelligence in a **** can lead either to advancement or to ruin. Choose.”

Kairen spoke softly.

“I want to be useful to you, my lady.”

A broad smile spread across Liandrin's face.

“Then prove it.”

She returned to her seat.

“You know that in the Firelands, men and women do not live together. But that law does not apply to slaves. You will be in my chamber every night. Your duty is to serve me.”

Kairen paled.

“You mean...”

“I mean whatever I tell you to mean.”

She lifted his chin with a finger.

“And if you ever disappoint me, I will send you to the lowest ranks of slavery.”

She pushed him down onto the floor.

“Say it: I am Liandrin's ****.”

His voice was muffled but audible.

“I am Liandrin's ****.”

“Again.”

Kairen repeated the words.

Valeria rose to her feet.

“I'll leave now, daughter. This is something you should handle alone.”

When the door closed behind her mother, Liandrin helped Kairen back up and seated him beside her.

She turned his face toward hers and looked into his eyes.

Tears had gathered at the corners.

“Don't cry, Kairen.”

Her voice softened slightly.

“This is our land. These are our laws. You can either learn to live within them or be crushed by them. I do not want to crush you.”

Kairen bit his lip.

“Then why are you doing this to me?”

Liandrin placed a finger beneath his chin.

“Because you're different. And I want you to become my most exceptional servant. But in this world, being exceptional often means enduring more hardship before reaching the top.”

Then she embraced him—a gesture he had not expected.

Leaning close, she whispered into his ear:

“Tonight, I want you with me. Not as a ****, but as a man. Just for one night. Tomorrow, you will be my **** again.”