Time to go

You hear a male voice give out a yell, and after some heavy running, once again hear the sound of metal clashing on metal.

“Someone is fighting someone,” Immestra notes.

Nodding you lean in close to Clymene, “Unless you want your life’s blood to spill on the floor, you’ll lead us to the entrance to the tunnels now.”

Holding Cymene’s chain, you glance into the darkened hallway. Not seeing anyone you nod to Immestra “Grab the food and let's go.” and then to Clymene “You first.”

Moving into the darkened hallway you go farther into the residence coming first to the Master's banquet room. Glancing quickly in, you see one of the other women of the house, slumped against the wall. A dagger had fallen from her hand, as blood slowly spills from a wound on each wrist.

Clymene gasps murmuring “Oh Ninka.”

“She made her choice, and you made yours.” You tell the chained woman.

Before you could say anything else, shrill crying begins echoing from the other side of the estate.

“We need to get out of here now.” Immestra implores.

“Gesturing with your knife “Where to now, Clymene?” You demand.

“It's in the wine storage room off the Pleasure Garden.” She says hesitatingly.

You were never given the freedom to move about the mansion like many of the other pleasure slaves, so you don’t actually know where the gardens are. You looked inquiringly at Immestra who nods and says:

“Its through the training and preparation room.” Now that was a room you well and truly remember.

“Lead on.” You order your former tormentor. Heading farther down the hallway, the three of you cut under an archway moving into a room full of the accouterments for training and prepping of pleasure slaves. A heavy table with leather bindings stands in the center of the room and the shelves are lined with oils, creams, lotions and an assortment of make-up. In addition to these jars there is a whole collection of razors, piercing needles and other more sinister implements that were used in this house to prepare the slaves.

Immestra, points at a small amphora and a stack of earthenware cups, “Amara, do you think we should have a draught? Just in case?” The bitter tasting liquid was given to you every week to prevent pregnancy, Rastos didn't want your youthfull innocence mared by a swollen belly.

Before you can answer you hear a man's voice echo through the house.

“Spread out, and find her, she must be taken alive.” The unseen voice thunders.

Your eyes go wide “I know that voice!” You gasp.