id: 584
name: Finding a Mistress
author: Subbyjim
date: 28th November 2021
text len: 14224
views: 61

Anon set the long square piece of wood into the jig carefully and lined it up with the markings. Satisfied the wood was in place he picked up a small plane and ran it down the length, shearing off one corner. He turned it over, shearing off the next corner and the last two afterwards. He kept repeating this with the newly made corners, gradually putting less and less pressure on the plane, until he had a round piece of wood. Running his hand down the simple thing, he set it on the pile of identical arrow shafts and started cutting another square section off a wide board. His hands continued their work of skillfully crafting the shafts as his mind fled the mundane task.

He had heard that the Orc raids on the frontier had lessened considerably as of late. Could such a thing as an Orc really exist? They say that an Orc woman is stronger than any man, and an Orc man stronger than any ox. He had never seen one, of course, in the cozy town he had lived his whole life in. He was blessed to be exempt from the levy as his trade of a fletcher's apprentice was much more useful than one more scared young man holding a spear. The tales of Orc women relayed by traveling bards featured prominently in his fantasies, but he doubted there were any truth in them. There was a rumor that due to the new alliance between the king and the neighboring Elf kingdom that elven artisans may share some of their secrets. His opinion on elves was rather low after he made a fool of himself chasing after a dashing elf lady only to discover it was really an elf man. It caused quite a stir in the town when it was revealed that all the elven travelers passing through were in fact men; Elven women ran their husband's estates and almost never left their kingdom's well guarded lands. A pity, the stories he had heard of those women tore at his heart. 

Anon bit his lip as he thought of the decree the town crier had read nearly a month ago now. The King had declared that the laws regarding Drow had changed for the first time since the King's great great grandfather The Lawbringer had codified the previously oral tradition. The fifty years had passed without even a single slaver's party of Drow stealing humans from their quiet villages. The Drow were to be treated just as any other Elf were. Trade with them was permitted, they were allowed to rest in inns, and they could enter cities during daylight. Nothing had changed fundamentally in the underground society of the dark elves, but their ancient queen had decided that this human kingdom was worthy of diplomatic ties and agreed to only purchase slaves from these lands and never take them by force. It was not expected that many Drow would be seen regardless of the changes as the kingdom was at peace with all its neighboring human lands and no change in that was expected, and thus no glut of slaves existed. 

Anon was positively captivated by the idea of the Drow. Human society didn't treat men like him very well, men who wanted nothing more than to submit to the women he loved and do anything to make her happy.  Despite his moderate status as a skilled apprentice he never had any success with the girls of his town, each of which it seemed wanted a warrior to throw them over his shoulder and carry her off to be ravaged. He didn't care about his almost certain financial security, or his safety, or duty to king and country or any of the other meaningless things everyone around him cared about. All he wanted was a woman to put him in his place and give him a reason to keep on living. Sighing, he looked down at the arrow jig. There was a half cylinder of wood, one side completely shaved off after he had planed it in one spot again and again while his mind fixated on the mysterious dark women from below. Throwing the wood away he stood up and stretched, his back popping pleasantly after the extended period sitting down. It was getting late in the day, and he had made more than his quota of shafts, so he took off the thick apron covering his thin body and made his way out of the master fletcher's workshop.

His master was out finding young trees to be made into strong bows and thus no one else was in the shop, which didn't help his vague loneliness at all. There were a few coins in his pocket, so he decided to drive the melancholy away at the tavern while his pocket change lasted. Outside the tavern a strange sight was present; A large wagon hitched to four bizarre creatures stood in front of the tavern entrance, barrels stacked high in the back. Cautiously he entered the old building, glad it was quiet inside as it usually was. It was early in the evening and the crowd he knew would gather soon had once again been beaten, allowing him a more comfortable drink. 

"You won't take it? Are you stupid? Let me speak to your mistress! Ah, damn it, you savage humans don't have mistresses, you're another loose male. How can you get anything done with such barbarity?" An annoyed woman's voice met his ears as he entered, and a strangely tied up mass of snow white hair seemed to vibrate in rage across from the tavern keeper, he looked away from the stranger, nodded at Anon, and returned his gaze to the incensed speaker. "Listen miss, I know your kind isn't used to doing trade in these parts, but I can't just buy whatever booze is offered to me. I have a contract with the brewer's guild, and if I break it then no supplier in the kingdom will deal with me. Do you think I can run off nothing but imported wine and whatever 'Mold Whiskey' is? You're going to have to deal with the guild itself or a wholesaler. There's nothing I can do, regardless of how I may like it." the tavern master told her, his tone placating, as if talking to an angry child. Composing herself, the woman replied "Thank you for that information. It seems our trade practices are very different. Prosperity to your owner." in a monotone voice before turning on her heel and making her way back to the entrance. Anon finally got a good look at her and marveled at her appearance. Her skin was pitch black, difficult to see her outline in the dimly lit tavern. Her hair was flawlessly white, and even when not bound seemed perfectly straight to a strand. Her features matched what he assumed an elven woman's looked like in shape. She was not supernaturally beautiful as many men had guessed, but she was rather pretty. Her most striking feature, however, was her unyielding confidence. She did not so much as acknowledge his existence, though, and her mind seemed elsewhere as she briskly walked past him into the street beyond. 

"W-would you like to have a drink with me before you go?" the words escaped his lips without thinking, but his nervous quaver was obvious still. The Drow half turned and looked over her shoulder. "Another boy running after any whiff of a woman? You humans are so backwards. I've had no less than four men proposition me since I entered this hovel you call a town." the woman quipped before returning to her march on the cart. Anon's mind raced. He couldn't let this opportunity pass him by. How could he get her to stay? What could he possibly have to say that would interest this woman, likely centuries old with unfathomable wisdom? "Then w-would you like to buy a slave?" he asked quietly, almost to himself. She was climbing up onto the cart's seat behind the reins when he said it, and he knew she hadn't heard. His heart fell, and he knew he'd missed any chance to even speak to the mysterious Drow merchant. "Trying to scam the foreigner? There's no way a boy like you could afford a slave, even for resale. There hasn't been an auction here in decades from the records I've read. Who are you trying to kid?" 

Anon's neck snapped up as he looked at her, noticing her sharp, long ears as if for the first time. "I swear by the King's seal I'm not trying to lie or trick you" he cited nervously. "Just hear me out, please? Surely you'd like to have this stop in town not be completely pointless, right?" She glared down at him for a few moments before nodding. "Very well. Ride with me as I leave this town, we can have a taste of my wares. Even if you are scamming me, you'll tell that oaf in there how lovely Drow wine is, it may help me in the future.Climb up then, loose male." Anon scrambled up the oddly designed wagon, noting that the steps seemed to wobble slightly as he put his foot on them as if they were made for a much lighter build passenger. She handed him a glass cup, a luxury he wasn't used to, full of a thick, black liquid. He sipped it as the clacking creatures began to pull the cart around. They looked almost like beetles, he thought, except with legs far too long and thick. 

"So, this slave, does it have any useful skills or features?" she asked as she sipped her own glass. Looking down at his own cup he realized he had drank half of it. It wasn't exquisite in taste, but it filled him with a warmth much greater than the normal glow of alcohol. It felt like he was wrapped in a fine fur from some beautiful northern creature. "H-he uh, knows how to work wood. To fletch, deal with contracts. Oh! He can read! a-and write, and he knows arithmetic sufficient to change money" he sputtered out before taking another drink. "and he's very loyal, you needn't worry about him trying to escape or do you harm." The Drow looked supremely skeptical at him, taking another small sip of her drink. "And is this slave legally owned? It would be my head if I took a human slave so soon after we were allowed to walk openly in human hands and even the smallest irregularity was found in his acquisition." Growing silent, Anon pondered for many long moments. "Go to the magistrate's office. We'll have everything done officially and with his signature, so that even if there were an irregularity, it would be on his head, not yours." This was met with a chuckle "Well, boy, that does sound appealing. Lead me to the magistrate, and we will see what happens from there."

During the short ride to the opposite side of town Anon did his best to learn more about her and her business. "So, how much does a barrel of this stuff go for? It makes me feel much better than a bottle of wine ever did with just that cup you gave me." Pondering, the dark woman finally replied "I am not very familiar with your currency, so I was going to ask for a half pound of gold for each barrel." This provoked a choking noise from Anon, and he stared in disbelief. "You should have been asking a count's steward for your business, not a tavern master!" She looked at him in confusion. "Are your common folk that destitute?" "Yes! Don't let it get out that your cargo is that valuable, you'll be robbed for certain." She put her hand on her chin and seemed to start pondering something. Absentmindedly she handed him her cup and said "Put this in the chest back there, boy" in a commanding tone. When he froze up and looked at her in confusion she laughed softly. "Oh, forgive me, I keep forgetting that men here are loose, or 'free' I guess you'd say, I'm used to all men I deal with being slaves."

The cup glistened in the last rays of sunlight, and Anon's hand reached out and took it despite the woman no longer holding it out to be taken. "It's the least I can do for giving me a taste of such an expensive wine" he said casually, before standing up and carefully stepping into the cart's rear section. A cold sweat ran down his entire body as he quietly set down the cups and squatted law. "Where did you say the chest was?" he asked as he drew a small knife from his belt. As she answered him he plunged it between the iron band and the wood of the closest barrel and with all his strength levered it back and forth. He vocalized mild distress when the cart wobbled from an uneven portion of the cobblestones they rode over, and at last he loosened the band enough to get the blade all the way in between. Feeling the animals slowing as they doubtless approached the magistrate's office, he savagely yanked the knife, snapping the band at a weak spot where it was pinned to the wood with a spike. Shoving the blade between the two boards he twisted it until the knife's tang snapped, leaving the blade buried inside but causing a gap big enough for the wine inside to slowly trickle out. He rapidly put the glasses into the chest and stood up, careful not to let the wine get on him. "Ah, if we hurry we should be able to catch him before he leaves." he said, instilling a sense of urgency in his voice as best he could. As soon as the cart stopped moving he vaulted over the side of the cart and motioned for her to follow him.

When they entered his office the magistrate was pouring over some stack of paper he seemed glad to be distracted from, although the sight of a Drow before him caused his face to darken. "There hasn't been trouble already, has there? The situation is very tenuous, if you so much as sneezed on someone I'll have you sent before the duke, Drow!" Anon interrupted before she could bark out a response and, using a lot of guesswork from his dealings with the smith's and the forester's guilds, began asking for clarifications on how the Drow might do business legally with the Brewer's guild. 

Anon drew out this part as long as he could stand to, before finally growing silent for a few moments. "Magistrate, we have come to settle a debt. I owe far more than I could ever hope to pay, and would like you to preside over a debt slave contract." The drow looked supremely confused, head jerking back and forth between the young man and the old magistrate. "Well, that should be no issue, how much do you owe?" "A half pound of gold, as recompense for destroyed goods." The Drow could take this no longer "What ARE you talking about? You've done nothing of the sort!" Anon smiled nervously. "Go check your cart, miss." She stormed out, neck turned to hold his gaze a moment longer as she left. Anon quickly finished what was required of him on the boilerplate contract as they heard a screech of rage. Before she could say a word as she stomped back inside he handed her the contract and the inked quill. "Um, please write your name, mistress" he said sheepishly. "I don't know what it is yet."