Andrea's Story, cont.
Jun. 15th, 2007 06:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jeriendhalIn which the offal impacts the oscillating air circulator.
The next morning she followed Master Tez to the meeting pavilion very quietly, not trusting herself to speak. Her master had not said more than five words to her before clipping her silver leash to her collar and escorting her to the pavilion. There he’d instructed her to remain at parade rest again, while he took a chair this time, sitting at the table and listening to both sides’ arguments with considerably more interest than he had before. Though Kinkaid was there, he spared only a single glance at Andrea before placing all of his concentration
Things actually seemed to be proceeding well. Apparently there had been some back room dealing the evening before, and the issue of permitting trade caravans through the Barrier was resolved to both sides’ satisfaction. After that it was lengthy discussion of troops permitted near the border, with tentative agreement to mutual inspections, slightly complicated by the elven practice of not actually maintaining an organized militia. On the few occasions elves went to war, every able-bodied male and female who was not needed elsewhere was capable of at least providing a strong arm for a bow, and most were trained in the use of the sword or more esoteric weapons as well. But Ambassador Veritelli was willing to accept that, with a promise of access to a routine census of the Elven Domain’s population.
She managed to stay awake through the discussions this time by occasionally biting on her tongue, which also helped keep her mouth shut. At least until the subject came around to slavery.
“One final matter, before we break for luncheon,” Count Veritelli said, looking uncomfortable and glancing up at a tight lipped Jonathan. “The matter of living chattel.”
“What of it?” Kavin asked, one eyebrow raised in curiosity.
“We understand that it is common practice for the Domain to use slaves as laborers, as was done in our homeland for too many… for many years,” Veritelli said. “Our king has declared the practice outlawed, except in the sentencing of criminals and those slaves to be held by the Crown, not individual owners.”
“If that is what your king chooses in his own nation, we certainly have no objection,” Kavin said agreeably.
Veritelli nodded. “In that same spirit, we do not object the elven practice of taking slaves from other lands. So long as they do not come from our kingdom or ones that we hold treaty with.”
“A most admirable viewpoint,” Kavin said, voice grown carefully neutral, apparently waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“As a token of goodwill, and recognition of the right of the Crown’s citizens to live free…” Veritelli spared a glance towards Jonathan, “we ask that any former citizens of ours that may still live in the Elven Domain be granted their manumission, and permitted to return to their former home.”
Andrea felt her face grow flush with embarrassment, as Kavin said, “you’re talking about half-elves.”
“Yes.”
The White Rider steepled his fingers, then turned towards Tez. “Eldest, what is your opinion on this matter?”
He paused a long moment before answering, his gaze focusing on Jonathan. “I am curious as to your reasoning in making this request, Ambassador. Surely you know how very rare the half-bred are in the Elven Domain. They are almost always despised, by either humans for being the product of a woman’s weakness, or by elves for standing in mockery of supposed elven perfection, reminding them of their close relation to humanity. As if elves aren’t as susceptible to physical urges as other races find themselves. Why even bother asking for this?”
The count looked uncomfortable. “It was merely a suggestion. I will withdraw it, if it is too controversial a notion.”
“Uncle, no!” Jonathan suddenly exclaimed. “I can’t let this pass.”
“Boy, for the love of the Lifebringer, quiet down,” Veritelli ordered. “It’s done. We will discuss it no further.”
“No, it is not,” Jonathan went on, pushing away from the table and standing up. “What is the point behind the negotiations, if the people we’re negotiating with are a bunch of hypocrites?”
Veritelli, looking alarmed, gestured for his nephew to sit down. “Eldest Tez, please disregard this boy. He speaks from the heart, but he doesn’t speak for either myself or my king.”
“Oh, no. By all means let him speak. I’m curious to hear what he has to say,” Tez said mildly. Veritelli shook his head, but sat down and let Jonathan continue.
“I accuse you of hypocrisy, Tez the Eldest,” the young man went on. “You hold the woman beside you in bondage, so deeply that she doesn’t even dare allow the notion of a life of freedom.”
Andrea, unable to control herself despite her master’s orders, blurted out, “Don’t drag me into this!”
“Andrea, I ordered you to remain silent,” her master snapped. “As for you, young man, I will have you know that I gave Andrea the opportunity to leave me freely shortly after I first bought her and she refused it. Now she is mine, to with as I wish.”
“You mean leave her alone? When she was what, ten or twelve years old, in a land full of people who wanted to kill her?”
“Eight, actually,” Andrea muttered, then lowered her head at her master’s warning glare.
“And what if she decides one day she wants to leave you?” Jonathan demanded.
Master Tez tightened his grip on Andrea’s leash. “She no longer has any choice in the matter. She is mine, until the day she dies.”
“I can’t accept that,” Jonathan said.
“Jonathan, that is enough. Sit down, boy!” his uncle demanded. “Eldest Tez, I apologize for my nephew’s words.”
But his nephew, instead of sitting down, strode forward and slapped Master Tez sharply across the face. The sound cracked across the room, seeming to freeze everyone in their places.
“Eldest Tez of the Elven Domain, I challenge you to a duel for Andrea the Half-Bred’s freedom!” he declared.
Master Tez blinked, then touched a finger to his face where Jonathan’s blow had struck. A queer half smile grew on his lips and he said, “Oh, my boy, that was a mistake.”
TBC
The next morning she followed Master Tez to the meeting pavilion very quietly, not trusting herself to speak. Her master had not said more than five words to her before clipping her silver leash to her collar and escorting her to the pavilion. There he’d instructed her to remain at parade rest again, while he took a chair this time, sitting at the table and listening to both sides’ arguments with considerably more interest than he had before. Though Kinkaid was there, he spared only a single glance at Andrea before placing all of his concentration
Things actually seemed to be proceeding well. Apparently there had been some back room dealing the evening before, and the issue of permitting trade caravans through the Barrier was resolved to both sides’ satisfaction. After that it was lengthy discussion of troops permitted near the border, with tentative agreement to mutual inspections, slightly complicated by the elven practice of not actually maintaining an organized militia. On the few occasions elves went to war, every able-bodied male and female who was not needed elsewhere was capable of at least providing a strong arm for a bow, and most were trained in the use of the sword or more esoteric weapons as well. But Ambassador Veritelli was willing to accept that, with a promise of access to a routine census of the Elven Domain’s population.
She managed to stay awake through the discussions this time by occasionally biting on her tongue, which also helped keep her mouth shut. At least until the subject came around to slavery.
“One final matter, before we break for luncheon,” Count Veritelli said, looking uncomfortable and glancing up at a tight lipped Jonathan. “The matter of living chattel.”
“What of it?” Kavin asked, one eyebrow raised in curiosity.
“We understand that it is common practice for the Domain to use slaves as laborers, as was done in our homeland for too many… for many years,” Veritelli said. “Our king has declared the practice outlawed, except in the sentencing of criminals and those slaves to be held by the Crown, not individual owners.”
“If that is what your king chooses in his own nation, we certainly have no objection,” Kavin said agreeably.
Veritelli nodded. “In that same spirit, we do not object the elven practice of taking slaves from other lands. So long as they do not come from our kingdom or ones that we hold treaty with.”
“A most admirable viewpoint,” Kavin said, voice grown carefully neutral, apparently waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“As a token of goodwill, and recognition of the right of the Crown’s citizens to live free…” Veritelli spared a glance towards Jonathan, “we ask that any former citizens of ours that may still live in the Elven Domain be granted their manumission, and permitted to return to their former home.”
Andrea felt her face grow flush with embarrassment, as Kavin said, “you’re talking about half-elves.”
“Yes.”
The White Rider steepled his fingers, then turned towards Tez. “Eldest, what is your opinion on this matter?”
He paused a long moment before answering, his gaze focusing on Jonathan. “I am curious as to your reasoning in making this request, Ambassador. Surely you know how very rare the half-bred are in the Elven Domain. They are almost always despised, by either humans for being the product of a woman’s weakness, or by elves for standing in mockery of supposed elven perfection, reminding them of their close relation to humanity. As if elves aren’t as susceptible to physical urges as other races find themselves. Why even bother asking for this?”
The count looked uncomfortable. “It was merely a suggestion. I will withdraw it, if it is too controversial a notion.”
“Uncle, no!” Jonathan suddenly exclaimed. “I can’t let this pass.”
“Boy, for the love of the Lifebringer, quiet down,” Veritelli ordered. “It’s done. We will discuss it no further.”
“No, it is not,” Jonathan went on, pushing away from the table and standing up. “What is the point behind the negotiations, if the people we’re negotiating with are a bunch of hypocrites?”
Veritelli, looking alarmed, gestured for his nephew to sit down. “Eldest Tez, please disregard this boy. He speaks from the heart, but he doesn’t speak for either myself or my king.”
“Oh, no. By all means let him speak. I’m curious to hear what he has to say,” Tez said mildly. Veritelli shook his head, but sat down and let Jonathan continue.
“I accuse you of hypocrisy, Tez the Eldest,” the young man went on. “You hold the woman beside you in bondage, so deeply that she doesn’t even dare allow the notion of a life of freedom.”
Andrea, unable to control herself despite her master’s orders, blurted out, “Don’t drag me into this!”
“Andrea, I ordered you to remain silent,” her master snapped. “As for you, young man, I will have you know that I gave Andrea the opportunity to leave me freely shortly after I first bought her and she refused it. Now she is mine, to with as I wish.”
“You mean leave her alone? When she was what, ten or twelve years old, in a land full of people who wanted to kill her?”
“Eight, actually,” Andrea muttered, then lowered her head at her master’s warning glare.
“And what if she decides one day she wants to leave you?” Jonathan demanded.
Master Tez tightened his grip on Andrea’s leash. “She no longer has any choice in the matter. She is mine, until the day she dies.”
“I can’t accept that,” Jonathan said.
“Jonathan, that is enough. Sit down, boy!” his uncle demanded. “Eldest Tez, I apologize for my nephew’s words.”
But his nephew, instead of sitting down, strode forward and slapped Master Tez sharply across the face. The sound cracked across the room, seeming to freeze everyone in their places.
“Eldest Tez of the Elven Domain, I challenge you to a duel for Andrea the Half-Bred’s freedom!” he declared.
Master Tez blinked, then touched a finger to his face where Jonathan’s blow had struck. A queer half smile grew on his lips and he said, “Oh, my boy, that was a mistake.”
TBC
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-06-15 11:33 pm (UTC)And my first thought upon reading this was: "Wait, you didn't name someone Thomas Kinkaid, did you?!"
Heee. Silly me.
no subject
Date: 2007-06-16 08:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-16 05:21 pm (UTC)Poor, poor foolish Jonathon.