The clan is the most important unit of stability in Empire politics, which, considering the importance of blood relations, is no surprise. It is even more important in leadership positions where only those with impeccable lineage are allowed to be called scions. The purest representatives of clans' ancestors that exist to this very day.

  Excerpt from 'Living Off The Land: The Dust Empire'

  At the dawn of the second day, every muscle in her body ached. Cecille was drifting in and out of sleep until the discomfort caused by her paper-thin mattress prevented any further attempts.

  Will they just leave me here to rot?

  There had been no sign of Kaseem, something she both welcomed and feared.

  It was obvious to her now that nobody was going to save her. Nobody knew she was here or that she was even alive; even if they did, there was no way Rocam and Ventus could free her from a building filled with soldiers.

  All I can do is try to survive and wait for an opportunity to escape.

  The thought made her feel helpless and she got up from her foul-smelling mattress to stand in front of the room's sole window; her only source of distraction. Outside, things appeared to have calmed down. The column of smoke that had billowed from Valour Keep had finally ceased after being present all day yesterday.

  If the soldiers of the garrison put up a fight, they lost it.

  There was a thumping sound near the door.

  More stale bread for breakfast.

  To her surprise, however, it wasn't just one person tossing her a loaf of bread. There were three of them, soldiers all, with one of them brandishing a sword menacingly at her.

  “Grab her,” the man with the sword said in Enti. He appeared to be a commander of some sort.

  “Where are you taking me?” Cecille demanded in Rion. She still had not let on that she understood Enti and planned to keep it that way as long as possible.

  The soldiers did not answer, and grabbed hold of her arms before dragging her out of the room.

  As they passed rooms and stairs, Cecille noted that the soldiers present no longer appeared tense. In fact, most of them looked almost relaxed, as if the worst had past.

  How can they be so calm? The King will march the entire army upon the city when he learns of the attack.

  Outside the billet, Cecille looked at the alley behind the fence in the futile hope that someone might be waiting there to free her, but there was no-one.

  “What are you looking at?” the man with the sword, who was walking behind her, sneered.

  Cecille did not answer, and concentrated on trying to keep up with the two men who almost carried her between them.

  Inside the trade-house she was dragged up the stairway to the private office where she was pushed down in a chair.

  “This is a pretty one,” one of the two men commented. “Where did we find her?”

  “Too old,” the other grunted. “I like the hair though,” he added, running his hand past her ear.

  “I like these better,” the first said, brusquely grabbing hold of Cecille's breasts.

  Cecille did not respond to the groping. I'm not giving them the satisfaction.

  “You like this, don't you?” He squeezed hard, causing her to yelp in pain.

  “Enough of that,” the commander said. “You can play with her after Kaseem is done with her.”

  With a disappointed grunt, her assailant let go of her.

  Kaseem. Hearing his name made her shudder as she recalled his cold, emotionless stare. So he hasn't forgotten.

  The men withdrew to the back of the room, where they sat around a small table and engaged in small-talk about their invasion. Cecille pretended to suffer in silence while eavesdropping on them. They did not speak of anything of interest though, merely commenting on the battle and the things they had looted.

  After some time, the door opened again. From the corner of her eye Cecille saw Kaseem enter the room, causing her to shrink in her seat.

  The three men got up from their seats until Kaseem gestured for them to sit again.

  He positioned himself in front of Cecille, taking her chin in his hand and lifting her face up. “Now then,” Kaseem said in Enti. “It took a while longer than expected, but I have time for you now.”

  Cecille looked into his cold hazel eyes with a confused expression.

  “We captured all your companions, you know,” Kaseem continued in Enti, letting go of her face and seating himself on top of a nearby desk. “They told us all about you. Before we killed them.”

  Her face remained motionless with a faint sense of confusion. You just want me to betray my understanding of Enti. There is no way you captured anyone else in the outfit. And even if you had, Rocam would sooner kill himself than be tortured by Dusters, Ventus would only talk gibberish, and Hans doesn't know anything about me.

  There was a hint of dissatisfaction in Kaseem's eyes, and Cecille knew she had won this part of the interrogation at least; small victory though it was.

  “How much Enti you know?” Kaseem asked, this time in Rion.

  “A bit,” Cecille said. “For my business.”

  “Your business selling perfumes.”

  “Yes.”

  Kaseem jumped up from the desk towards her. “Liar!” he yelled in her face as he grabbed hold of her wrists. “You're a spy!”

  Panic started to take hold of Cecille. Up until now, she had not given much thought to what would happen if she failed to satisfy Kaseem's need for answers. Perhaps because in the back of her mind she knew that it couldn't be anything good.

  “I'm not a spy,” Cecille said, with fear clear in her voice. “I just sell perfumes, I don't know what you are talking about.”

  “I know all about your business. But you show up at spots where you aren't supposed to be.”

  “I'm just unlucky,” Cecille said. “I don't know anything.”

  “Unlucky, you say,” Kaseem spat. “That might be true.” He retracted his right arm as if he was going to hit her.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Cecille flinched and turned her head, waiting for the blow.

  His fist landed near her stomach, causing a spiking pain to jolt through her body and doubling her over in the chair. Tears started to run down her face.

  “You thought I would hit your face?” Kaseem scoffed. “This hurts far more, no?”

  Gasping for air, Cecille tried to speak, but the pain made her unable to do so.

  “This was just a start. It's going to far more painful if you don't talk.” Kaseem pushed her back upright, sending another wave of pain through her side.

  “Please don't,” she whispered.

  Kaseem laughed his unpleasant laugh. He appeared very pleased with himself.

  “What were you doing at the mansion? Why were you there when Fazir caught you?”

  “I was there to spy,” Cecille coughed. “Like you said.”

  There is no point in hiding it, she thought. If they really were going to torture her, she wouldn't last beyond the first question anyway, so she might as well avoid as much pain as possible.

  “Very good,” Kaseem said, tapping her cheek. “Now, who told you to spy on us?”

  The door of the office opened again and Kaseem looked up with fury in his eyes to see who was disturbing him. The moment he caught sight of the new visitor, however, the fire in his eyes evaporated.

  Clasping her side with her hands, Cecille turned her head to face the new arrival as well.

  The first thing she instantly noticed was that the man who entered the room wasn't a soldier. His outfit was much too fine, and both his hair and the ring beard he wore were impeccably groomed. This was in sharp contrast with the rough cuts of the other men in the room.

  His skin was a dark olive like Kaseem's, yet his eyes were a bright blue set beneath two thick, short eyebrows. The hair on top of his head was of the curl typical of people living in the far south, and shaped like a reversed bowl with the front cut away.

  Behind him, two plain, but well-dressed, young women had entered the room and their meek but attentive demeanour instantly revealed them as handmaidens. As the man approached Kaseem, they positioned themselves along the wall in a manner that made them as unobtrusive as possible. All in all, this was a man that Cecille definitely would have approached had this been a soirée.

  But to her great regret, it wasn't.

  “Greetings, scion,” Kaseem said in Enti, inclining his head. “I wasn't expecting to see you here.”

  “The city is secure, is it not?” the man said. “There is no reason for me not to see the fruit of our conquest.”

  “Of course there isn't,” Kaseem said, showing a subservient side that Cecille would never have thought possible. “Yet I'm somewhat puzzled as to why you came here.”

  “It was the Radiant Dune that was responsible for the swiftness of our victory,” the man said with a flourish of his hand. “It would be rude of me not to visit you all and show my gratitude.”

  “Your gratitude is well received. Serving the scions is our life.”

  “Indeed it is,” the man said, turning towards Cecille. “And who might this be?”

  “A spy we captured. I was just in the process of interrogating her.”

  “How could such a lovely creature be a spy? Or is she perhaps one because of that?”

  Kaseem appeared surprised. “Lovely?”

  After two days without bathing and little sleep, Cecille knew the reason for his surprise. Her clothes were a mess and so were her hair and face. Despite the lack of a mirror, she was sure that the Duster who had hit her before dragging her into the billet had left a large bruise on her cheek.

  “Only a true natural beauty shows itself even in this sorry state.”

  Cecille just stared at him, unable to change her expression.

  “That may be so,” Kaseem said, slightly hesitant, “but she still needs to answer my questions.”

  “Who exactly was she spying on?”

  “Us. A few nights ago at Echeb's house. Fazir caught her in the act.”

  “I see,” the man said, before turning towards Cecille. “My name is Hischi Zahatt Hischi,” he said in flawless Rion. “Who might you be?”

  “Cecille,” she stammered. “Cecille de Alistrin.” A thin glimmer of hope formed inside her. This man might be her way out.

  “And are you a spy, as this man here claims?”

  “She admitted to it just before you came in,” Kaseem said.

  “Yes,” Cecille said. “I was spying on the magistrate.”

  Zahatt gave her a warm smile. “And why were you doing that?”

  Cecille's mind started to work again. As the pain in her side began to fade, she realized she might have a small chance here. This man Zahatt, whoever he was, was obviously somebody high up on the social ladder—perhaps even at the top. If she could get in his good graces, there might be a way out for her; it was obvious that would never happen with Kaseem.

  “I was hired by Klem Tarm to look into the magistrate's dealings.”

  “Klem Tarm?” Zahatt asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “He owns several of the mines nearby,” Kaseem said. “Or he used to, at least.” His unpleasant smile curled around his lips once more.

  “I see,” Zahatt said. “And what did he hope to learn?”

  “He wanted to know if the magistrate had dealings with the syndicates. If that turned out to be true, he would use that to blackmail him in giving up mining rights. When I heard the magistrate talk with Kaseem, I thought I'd found that proof.”

  Her words weren't even very far from the truth. After all, at the time, she really had believed that Kaseem, Fazir and Rishad were part of a syndicate. Only the part about Klem Tarm was a complete fabrication.

  “I don't believe you,” Kaseem said. He wanted to say something else, but a gesture from Zahatt silenced him.

  “Why would a beautiful woman like you do such a dangerous thing?”

  “I needed the money,” Cecille said, starting to cry again. The tears came easily thanks to the pain that still stung her side. “My perfume business isn't doing well, and I couldn't go back to being poor. I wouldn't be able to attend soirées anymore.”

  That should be believable enough, I hope.

  “I see.”

  Kaseem looked shocked. “Do you believe her? She's lying through her teeth. If she heard our conversation—”

  Zahatt raised his hand again, and lightly shook his head as if he had never heard so much foolishness. “If she wasn't there for that, what else was she there for? Obviously she didn't know you were part of a group of mercenaries, or we wouldn't have taken the city as easily as we could.”

  “Perhaps you are right, scion, but I'd rather be safe than sorry.” The finality in his voice pushed Cecille into making a desperate attempt.

  “Please have mercy on me,” she pleaded with Zahatt. “If you let me go, I can help you. I know all the upper-class members of the city. I can point out everyone to you and tell you what they are really like.”

  Zahatt smiled at her. “And why would I have need for that?”

  “You are now the ruler of this city, are you not? I can be very helpful to you... in more ways than one.” She tried to speak and look seductively as she said the last part, despite her current appearance.

  Zahatt brought his index fingers together and placed them in front of his lips. “You make a tempting offer.”

  “Scion,” Kaseem protested in Enti. “You cannot be serious. This harlot is trying to seduce you. She did it before.”

  “I'm aware,” Zahatt said, “but she makes a good point about knowing the people of the upper class. Capturing the city was easy, but holding onto it is the more difficult task by far. Knowledge of what motivates a person is a valuable thing.”

  “We have Echeb for that.”

  Zahatt's smile vanished, and Cecille noticed a hint of disgust flash over his face.

  “No, no,” Zahatt said, “that won't do. We are the invader, remember? We must appear to be one of them, show them our arrival will bring nothing but good. Echeb won't be accepted. A beautiful Geriossa like this at my side, however, will have a great impact.”

  Zahatt placed his hand on Cecille's shoulder and bent forward before whispering in her ear. “I will also look forward to partaking in the other ways you can be helpful to me.”

  Zahatt straightened himself and beckoned to his handmaidens. “Seat her in my carriage. I will take her with me.”

  “I haven't finished interrogating her yet,” Kaseem sputtered. “She still hasn't told me who her companions were.”

  “Irrelevant,” Zahatt said. “And besides, I get the feeling that if I leave her with you, she will be dead before I finish greeting your men. Your reputation precedes you in that regard. Or perhaps I should say, your infamy.”

  Kaseem's expression turned dark and he gave Cecille one last murderous glance before stomping out of the room.

  “Oh, thank you,” Cecille said as she carefully raised herself from her chair. “I will serve you faithfully for this.”

  “That you will,” Zahatt replied. He took her chin between two of his fingers and his eyes turned dark as he brought his face close to hers. “That you will.”

  A short time later, Cecille found herself in a closed carriage with only the accompanying handmaiden seated across from her.

  Despite Zahatt's implicit threat, Cecille felt immensely relieved. She wasn't safe yet, but her situation had improved a great deal compared to when she had woken up that morning.

  She glanced out of the carriage's window. Outside, she could only see a single person: the driver of the carriage.

  Should I make a run for it? The handmaiden was unlikely to stop her despite her hawkish looks, and the driver didn't seem particularly alert either.

  No, that's a bad idea. In her current state she wouldn't be able to run very fast, and there was a chance that Kaseem was hovering somewhere in the air above them right now. Just waiting for her to try to escape.

  She shuddered at the thought. She had never met a man that scared her so much. Not even Rocam's sporadic outbursts came close to the fear she felt in Kaseem's presence.

  If Zahatt hadn't appeared then and there, I would probably be dead now. Or raped by an entire troop of mercenaries. The thought made her feel faint, and she leaned her head into the soft pillows of the carriage.

  It might not even be so bad, Cecille thought as she ran her hand over her forehead. Zahatt appears to be the man who controls all of this, which means that as long as I stay in his good graces, I might learn some interesting things. Maybe I'll even get to be the rich wife I always wanted to be.

  She closed her eyes and allowed her fantasies to run away with her.