Silently a young man enters the room caring a box. He appears to be no older than eighteen or so. From his olive skin and the cloth wrap he wears around his loins you guess he is a slave from the eastern Caliphates. He is barefoot, and besides his loin wrap, he wears only a thick leather slave?s collar with strange runes around his neck.
Though not tall or broad like the Northman his body has a pleasant wirily muscularity to it. His face is handsome, though slightly on the feminine side.
The Northman gives a grunt of contempt at his entering and refuses to acknowledge or even to look at him. The slave just looks at the ground, his eyes show submission and a broken spirit.
As he turns his back to you to put the box on the judge?s desk in front of you, you can see flog marks across his back. He turns and quietly goes and stands behind the large jewel decorated chair behind the judge?s desk. You see he has been branded on his right pectoral muscle with the same symbol as the guard?s tabard.
A small bead of cold sweat runs down your face as your realize how sadistic and sick the judge must be.
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