Lipizi, a Nubian

Author's note: This branch of the story starts approximately two weeks before the other main branches. The arial battle for control of the sky above Athenapolis is in its final stages and even the most optimistic realize that the City's Riders are badly outnumbered. On land, the siege has been pretty much completed, and no one can enter or leave the city without making their way through the United Armies checkpoints. The only gap in the ring encircling the city is through the River Gate to the South and some brave ships still slip in along the short stretch of the slow-moving river between the walls of the city and the great Middle Sea.

Warning - this branch is heavily dominated by themes of race-play and .

"Lipizi!" You stir on your thin straw mattress, instantly recognizing the voice of your fellow Djuba. Though usually when Djuba woke you, his voice was quiet, even mournful. Djuba's voice this morning is excited, almost exultant.

You rise from your modest sleeping quarters in the back of the barn and pull your ragged trousers on tying them around your hips with and old bit of twine. Usually, your morning routine would be to care for the horses and sit down to a pitiful breakfast before beginning your day of manual labor. But this is no ordinary day.

No sooner had Djuba roused you than Milos, the household bodyguard, arrives in full armor demanding a steed. You prepare his mount as he explains unnecessarily that the city is under attack. Siege engines have been hurling projectiles at the walls for days now and although you are deep enough from the outer edges of the city to worry about being hit, there have been daily assaults testing the defenses of the outer walls. None of this affects you yet, but both you and Djuba know that it is only a matter of time before the attack starts in earnest and when that day comes, your life as a is going to change. Once mounted, Milos leaves without any farewell, or even an extra glance - after all you are worth less than the spirited horse that you saddled for him.

For several nights now you and Djuba have been considering your situation. Your master is a rich merchant from the north named Janus Kjellborg, and he is currently out of town on business. A merchant with his connections probably had warnings of the coming danger to the city and slipped away, though why he left his wife and pretty teenaged daughters to face the dangers of war is beyond you. You saw the trio in the estate gardens just the other day and decided that all three of them would make lovely slaves; their pale skin glowing in sharp contrast to the black chains that would bind their wrists and ankles. Presumably, all three are still in the house, now undefended since Milos, the last of the household guards, rode off to glory.

You've spoken often the Temple of Athena and the riches that you could find there. Your master was a patron of the temple. and you were often brought to the great white building at the base of the Citadel for festivals and family celebrations. Djuba repeatedly reminded you of the many treasures within, gold and silver chalices, plates and candlesticks left out for all to see. The pair of you chuckled too at the thought of all those fair-skinned priestesses in their loose white gowns overseeing them.

Another plan you worked on is to go down to the Slaver's Quarters, where others of your people are likely to be. If you could free and arm the warriors chained in the grim holding cells by the river there might be some kind of organized action to take down the walls from within.

Djuba says he knows of a place where escaped can hide out along the swampy salt-water marshes south of the city. According to the thick-bodied at least, escaped slaves can float down the river using reeds to breath when they have to avoid the watch posts on the River Gate. Once out of the city, the now free men continue floating on the muddy currents until they wash up on the sand bars surrounded by the wetlands.

Finally, you could help with the defense of the city. Better to die fighting with a spear and shield in your hand than locked inside this fucking stable with a collar around your neck.