Chapter III: Scales of Justice
"The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword."
- George R.R. Martin (A Song of Ice and Fire)
"The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword."
- George R.R. Martin (A Song of Ice and Fire)
General Shadowleaf returned to Alicante by evening the same day of the incident at Aboran. By the time she reached the palace it was already late, so audience with her mistress took place in the Sorceress' private quarters. She found Ilhirel outside on the balcony, leaning against the marble railing. The sun had already set but the eastern horizon was still somewhat bright, fading to a dark blue. The she-elf was just finishing explaining what happened at the Great Library.
"My men chased them all the way to the docks, where they got on a ship and sailed off." Her usual determined tone of voice was marred by uncertainty and fear. Ilhirel was not used to failure.
"And?" the Sorceress said, still staring idly across the city.
"And we... I... didn't react quickly enough." Niara's voice wavered. "I lost them."
"You lost them." Ilhirel repeated without turning around.
"F-Forgive me, Mistress. There is... There is no excuse for my incompetence. It's my fault. I s-should have anticipated what might happen, been more prepared, done more to..."
"Silence." Ilhirel turned to face the she-elf, who looked more like a chastised scullery maid than a general. "You should have done more, yes. Should have, could have, would have. It's too late now, isn't it? I am disappointed with you, Niara."
Disappointed. That one word struck Niara like a physical blow. "I'm s-sorry." she stammered, looking down at the ground. "Give me a second chance, please, I will fix my mistake..."
"Look at me. Don't you dare look away." Ilhirel said, walking up to her with the aura of a predatory animal. "Of course you will fix your mistake. You will hunt down these thieves and bring them to me. But first, you will be punished for your failure."
Niara was just as afraid of Ilhirel as she was captivated by her, right down to the core of her being. As soon as she was commanded to look at her, it became impossible to take her eyes anywhere else. Her flawless beauty, her deadly grace, her inner power. Everything about her was fascinating, addicting. It was like being under a spell. As if she were bewitched. But if you asked Niara, she was in love.
Clearly pleased with the effect she had on the she-elf, the Sorceress continued. "You need to be disciplined, Niara. You understand this, don't you?"
Breathless, Niara whispered: "I need to be disciplined."
"You want to be disciplined. You know how good that is for you. How it makes you better."
"I... Want to be disciplined." Niara agreed, swallowing hard. She could feel her fingers and toes clench involuntarily, hungry to serve her Mistress. To do at least something right, anything, just to make her satisfied. "Please," she begged in a shamefully whiny voice, "Discipline me."
"Oh, yes." said Ilhirel, producing a black leather collar from somewhere. "I will."
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