Chapter 222: A Display Piece

Riding in the carriage, Isis stared out the window, her finger digging around the corset that tightly compressed her stomach. Although she wished for nothing more than to rip it off, she didn’t dare do more than occasionally tug at it, knowing that Justinian, even if he wouldn’t hurt her, would make sure to say something. Letting out a deep huff, she watched the passing streets of Danmor. The city had changed since her speech in the colosseum. Although it had only been around a month, the atmosphere was tense.

Danmor’s people had replaced their common dress with armoured sellswords. The work the Lesser took part in drifted, focusing on maintaining roads and walls or moving supplies. And for the women, some saw gaps in the food markets, while the men chased the quick, good pay of a soldier’s life, providing the other comforts people still needed. The other half didn’t largely change, continuing their duties as wives, whilst the rest, a very small number, realised the opening in the market to work in a brothel, something a few men who feared war had also done.

“War is brilliant for business,” Justinian said, and Isis looked over, seeing he was watching her watch. “It is simply finding the opening in the market.” His tone was soft as he looked away from Isis and stared out the window at the people, many of whom saw his carriage backing away and slightly bowing even if they didn’t need to. It was surprising to Isis to see his gaze, being able to tell that even when he looked at the freemen and women who entered prostitution, he didn’t find it contemptible, rather having a cold acknowledgement of their ambition for riches using any means. That wasn’t to say he would do it himself; Isis was sure of it.

“War kills many.” With a light chuckle, he nodded and sighed.

“Yes, the manpower loss is rather troubling if a war drags on too long, but war, especially for a side that comes out victorious, is always followed by a massive amount of pregnancy. Fargo is very good at tracking this data, and I have been privileged to see it. Anyway, a man at war can go months without touching a woman and years without seeing his wife. When they return, that pent-up desire can finally be satisfied.”

“People will still die.” Isis countered, not for any reason bar opposing Justinian in a way that was polite.

“Unlike your barbaric homeland, people of Danmor are not forcefully conscripted by Lords. Every single man you see has willingly signed up to fight. Those within the Pantheon fight because of faith; the common man who bought a sword does so for gold; the trained mercenary does it for gold and reputation. There is no reason to force those who can’t fight to fight. After all, someone needs to tend to the fields.”

Isis stared at him for a moment and looked back out the window, seeing a group of collared men. “And the lessers. You don’t force them to fight?” Justinian leaned forward, with a thin smile that didn’t reach his eyes. 𝘧𝓇ℯℴ𝓂

“A Lesser has no rights.” His tone went dark as he spoke in an eerily calm and slow voice. “We place them at the front and force them to charge and take the brunt of combat. Only when the enemy is tired do the important people join the battle.” Isis stared at him, and for half a minute Justinian coldly stared back, his thin smile unreadable. After the thirty seconds, a light chuckle escaped his lips. Lifting his hand, he shrugged, “I’m joking. Sure, some do fight, but those are Lessers who have been trained for war. They are highly valuable, though, because their sole purpose is combat, so they’re kept for elite squads and given high-quality equipment. For the most part, a Lesser is better suited for the logistical and personal side of war.”

Leaning on his hand and looking out the window, Justinian stared at the convoy of Pantheon soldiers marching past, their cries belting out across the street, calling for the blessing of wheat and the lesson of the iron.

“Food, transport. Sex and pleasure. A soldier needs entertainment as much as they need to eat.” Isis narrowed her eyes.

“So what, you send out numerous women in collars to follow the army.”

“It depends. Whoever is in charge of said Lesser will decide how they are moved. They don’t want to think for themselves; it’s why they wear the collar. So if they are told to go with the marching soldiers, they will. If they are told to wait back here for the returning injured and comfort them, they will.” Although she tried to hide it, Isis could tell she had let her disgust show when Justinian shook his head after looking at her. “I will entertain this, my dear, because travel is boring, but when we arrive, all this talk will stop.”

Shrugging, the two fell silent as they travelled for another five minutes. Stopping outside a large manor where numerous carriages sat, Justinian got out and held out his hand for Isis. Pausing for a moment, she took it, but Justinian frowned. “Smile.” Forcing herself to put a pleasing smile on, one she had trained in the mirror, Justinian nodded and led her forward.

Around, numerous carriages carrying equipment and preserved food were being carefully handled, transported back and forth as lightly armoured soldiers ran about practising drills in the large courtyard or directing where to send supplies. Beside them, collared men and women waited, helping with what they could or waiting to care for the soldiers after their training finished.

“The masters are waiting for you, Broker.” A man in a butler uniform, a middle-aged man with a deep gaze, said, bowing towards the two. Looking at Isis, his eyes softened as he smiled. “An honour, Lady Isis.” Lifting his lips up ever so slightly, Isis returned a courteous nod towards the butler as he led the two into the manor. Much like Justinian, it flaunted wealth beyond what she had ever known, but unlike Justinian’s, Isis could tell it was far more subdued compared to his, the disparity clear, having lived inside the man’s manor.

Walking into a comfy guest room , two men sat, and seeing them enter, Rose rose, large smiles on their faces. One was fat, his body bouncing with each step, making the jewels he wore clank; the other equally flamboyant, his hair dyed silver. It made Isis wonder, as she peeked towards Justinian. She knew very well that, if he wanted to, he could dress like them, but he never did.

“Justinian. Old friend.” The fat man approached and took Justinian’s free hand, shaking it before leaning forward and touching the side of his cheek to Justinian’s, Justinian smiling and leaning forward to allow it.

“Caeos.” Taking the lanky hand next, the lanky man leaned down and copied the actions of the fat man, touching his cheek against Justinian’s. “Gallus. Thank you for the warm welcome.”

The two shook their heads and turned to Isis, Caeos grabbing Isis’s hand and leaning forward to kiss her cheek, much like he did with Justinian, but actually placing his lips on it. “You are far more beautiful than when we first saw you, my Lady. Your speech.” Caeos paused for a moment, as if overwhelmed by emotion. “It made me cry when I heard it.”

Isis stayed silent for a moment, only speaking when she felt Justinian squeeze her hand. “Thank you… My lord?”

“I am no Lord; Caeos is fine.” The fat man responded in a kind voice that had a hint of pity.

“I am glad you enjoyed it.” Isis paused for a moment and looked down. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath.

“It wasn’t enjoyable but moving. You have suffered at the hands of the barbarians of Cras.” Caeos turned and pointed towards the seats. “Please sit.” Moving, the two sat before her and Justinian, and Caeos carried on, “Many within this city hate Cras. It is a truly ugly city, and after your speech in the Colosseum, it finally hit me what a disgusting place that is.” Caeos resisted the urge to spit whilst Gallus nodded in agreement. “But whilst I sympathise with your struggles, my Lady,” He looked towards Justinian, “I need assurance.”

Leaning forward, Justinian gave a small smile. It wasn’t his usual thin one- more cordial, lacking the teasing element to it. “My friends, I will not say this endeavour will be a cheap initial investment. Maybe our good Evangelist would be willing to take a loss for this, but you are men of business. Cras, despite all its barbarity, is a store of wealth. Now, in negotiation with the Farsgon Banks representatives, I have managed to come to a deal. Cras will not be able to hide their wealth with them.”

The two looked at one another with intrigued looks before looking back at Justinian. “The bank has always found Cras’s business to be turbulent. After all, whilst many Fargo nobles purchase Cras Slaves, they do not provide much else bar those slaves and that is finite. Now, whatever moral opinions we good men have on slavery are irrelevant to the bank, but what they understand is coin. Danmor has never been reliant on one service or commodity, and capturing Cras will cheapen trade as a whole. But I cannot control everything myself, and I understand others wish to see something from this. So my offer, as you have heard from others I am sure, is prioritisation of investment in the city. Any business you wish to spread to the city is yours.”

The two looked at one another again. Gallus was the first to break from the minute silence, reaching into his inner pocket and pulling out a silver pipe. Opening a small container, he dropped some herbs inside it before pulling out an artefact. Running a hand over the rune, it heated up, and touching the hot side of the herbs set them alight.

With a deep inhale, he blew out a puff of smoke with a strong tobacco smell. “What of the Cras slaves?” Asking in an emotionless tone, Gallus looked towards Isis, his face softening at the smile she never let fall.

“Our dear Evangelist has decided that all slaves of Cras will be given choices. Freedom, service in the Pantheon or the chance to wear the collar. If they decide on Freedom, there is nothing we can do. Should they decide to join the Pantheon, they fall under Augustus ‘ protection. But I am sure many will not be like our brave lady here. They are broken people who can no longer act for themselves and may never be able to. Should they decide to put on the collar of a lesser, it will fall under my jurisdiction.” Justinian smiled, saying nothing more.

The two looked at one another again, and Gallus took a deep inhale of his pipe, blowing out another large cloud. “I am correct in saying that we can expect something from you after this is over, Justinian.” The thin, sly smile returned to Justinian’s face as he gave a single low nod.

“Whatever I can offer, depending on how much you give. My people will be around to get a final count of your investment.”

“We are more than happy to help end this horror, my friend.” Gallus chuckled, making Justinian respond with one.

“Of course.”