Azaniel, Prince of Slavers

After all, your people, the Tellians consider themselves a god-fearing moral people. Since you were a girl, attendance at church was mandatory for you. As it was for every child growing up. Sex out of wedlock was a rare and scandalous affair. Meanwhile, the habits of dress emphasized chastity and dignity. A woman parading in public with her skirt above her ankles would be enough to draw gossip.

Yet, your people always prided themselves on their equality. Women in Telos were considered near-equals of men and allowed in most formal professions. Your people's church emphasized the equality in spirit between the sexes.

All of which made the barbarous, hedonist city-states of the Slaver's Coast the object of scorn. Your good-folk recoiled from the practice of selling slaves, an act considered barbaric among your people. They were disgusted by (although not without any fascination) the tales of wanton sexuality and sadomasochism. And they seethed at the persistent subjugation of women among them.

The scattered Slaver-Cities of the coast, your kingdom's erstwhile neighbors, had a rigid and cruel society. The lower classes were kept in shackles as slaves, tormented by the whims of the smaller, overseer class. The male slaves were kept in chastity to keep them away from the women, who were routinely impregnated by their masters and overseers. Vast, ornate estates rose along the water, built by calloused hands.

This elite class of pirates, merchants, taskmasters, and mercenaries, played cruel power games. They were often at war with neighboring cities, or even with rivals within their own cities. The title of "Prince", the ruler of a city, could be a very short lived position.

Meanwhile, the women among this upper cast were little more free then their lower-class counterparts. From a young age, they were brought up as high value concubines. Whatever independence and freedom they had was stamped out early. The Taskmasters of the Slave-Cities gave their own Daughters as Ritual Slave-Concubines to each other. The highest thing a woman could aspire to being nothing but a prettier pair of shackles.

For all of these reasons, you knew that the coming suitor would never be accepted. Much less because of the mismatch in rank. He was the mere lord of a city-state. You were the Queen of a mighty kingdom.

And yet, the man you were dressing for was none other then Prince Azaniel of Black-Brand. The dashing new Prince of a cruel slave city.

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