I'zara grimaced as the human named Bramwald entered their house; she had gone to bed at a late hour, and had been inebriated enough that she had simply collapsed across the bed. Her head ached with the buzzing like a swarm of hornets, made worse by the incessant talking of her human slave.
"Escaping slavery through death is not a good way to die, but if you keep up your chattering then you will soon be quite free... or what is left of you will..." I'zara grumbled, throwing her thick zebra hide blanket over her achig head.
"It's not my fault you over-indulged in Wiley's Wicket Ale, mistress," answered the human from the cooking stove. "Besides, if you kill me, you won't have anyone to make your morning coffee... although technically, its more your 'afternoon coffee' now." Bramwald seemed undaunted by I'zara's grumbling threat.
Slowly I'zara recognized the scent of the black coffee available from the Broken Keel, which imported it by the bag for select customers. "I guess I will have to show mercy, then..."
"Yes, my most amenable and beautiful mistress! Show everyone the kindness and mercy you show everyone, even a miserable slave!" Bramwald wore an iron torc and wrist manacles denoting his legal status as I'zaras slave. He wore a simple cotton tunic, and carried no weapon openly; arming slaves was considered the height of stupidity in Azeroth.
Bramwald come to where she was still huddled in the hell of deserved hangovers, and made her wrap her hands around the large porcelain mug. She sniffed the beverage, and almost smiled when she recognized that Bramwald had added cream and sugar, the way she preferred (although in hard times she would take it any way they could afford).
"A second cup is ready when you need a refill. Are you eating breakfast today?" he asked, knowing that sometimes her post-bacchanal condition precluded aught but coffee.
"Just coffee is fine," I'zara grumped.
The town of Ratchet was a goblin port in Kalimdor, near the Northern Barrens. Owned and operated by the carefully neutral goblin Steamwheedle Cartel, it had unofficially - meaning there was no solid, tangible proof - that Ratchet had served the Horde. Ratchet's mayor, a goblin named Gazlowe had taken over the Horde-aligned Bilgewater Cartel. As with most things goblin, solid answers were unclear and changed with circumstance, but Ratchet was still available to Alliance merchants and visitors.
After all gold had no loyalty.
After I'zara's wolf partner Freke had adopted Bramwald as his "cub", I'zara had found registering Bramwald as her slave covered a variety of legal nuance with one overriding truth; anyone threating or mistreating Bramwald would be repaid with a bullet.
As he grew, Bramwald had learned how to scrape and cure the pelts that I'zara brought home. Wiley, the innkeeper of the Broken Keel taught the boy other skills while the boy did odd jobs for the tavern; goblin accounting, cooking, and the proper way to make coffee.
If I'zara and Wiley taught him other skills, like how to throw knives, or fight with axe and dagger.... it was nobody else' business. The wharf ad warehouses were kept remarkably free of rats, and Freke was well-fed.
I'zara was troubled; Bramwald was almost an adult by the reckoning of the humans. Orc and goblin children would long since been sent out into the world to make a place for themselves; it wouldn't be long before Bramwald should be allowed to do the same. He seemed content to continue indefinitely as I'zara's bondsman, but one of the skills that Bramwald had learned from his goblin neighbors was to lie with skill and guile.
(WIP)
No comments:
Post a Comment