Chapter 4
Thog’s trial takes place two days after the robbery, and it’s a fairly boring affair.
He has the same “advocate” (their word for lawyer) that I did, Naruk Redwish.
I still don’t trust the guy after he lied to me and Khazak, manipulating us into fighting each other, but I have to admit, he’s good at what he does.
There was a lot more talking than at my friend’s trial, not that I could understand a word of it.
Even though we know he was working with someone else, we can’t prove anything, and since Thog confessed to everything, there’s not really anything to argue against. He’s sentenced to five years in the city’s prison (which is different than where my friends are) for stealing from the city’s militia.
I can tell Khazak and Ragnar aren’t exactly happy about it, but Ragnar seems more upset.
The rest of the week drags on, and the knowledge that something fun awaits us after work on Aquaday only makes it feel longer, especially the last couple of days when I can see the booths and stages being set up.
By the end of the week, there’s this weird energy in the air, and I can barely concentrate on anything.
I’m practically bouncing in my chair waiting for Khazak to tell us we can go home.
I want to find out what’s gonna happen already!
“Should we eat before we go out?” I ask as we pass the kitchen.
“Definitely not.’’ Khazak shakes his head as he marches confidently toward the bedroom. “There will be more than enough food tonight.”
“Yay, I love food.” I sit on the bed while he rummages through chests.
“Really? I had not noticed,” he snarks, and I throw a pillow at his bent over form. “That is ten,” he tells me as he stands back up, some clothes in hand, moving to the other chest.
“Worth it, Sir.” We’re both referring to the new system we have regarding my “behavior” and correcting it.
I now earn demerits. Spanking demerits—to be doled out at the end of the day before bed.
I’ve actually been pretty good lately; I made it the entire week in the woods without earning a single one.
Being around the other rangers helped I think, but once we got back to the city, well. .. Ragnar and Nylan are bad influences.
“I wonder if you will feel that way by the end of the night,” he threatens ominously, arms full and headed to the bed.
The first thing I notice is the black leather harness, something his friend Brull crafted for me weeks ago.
I haven’t worn it since I tried it on. Next to that is a pair of black pants, pants that frankly have gotten a little tight since I’ve put some weight back on.
On top of the pants is a green jockstrap, which seems to be a favorite of his. ..and that’s it.
“No shirt?” I look over to verify.
“You will not need one,” he tells me with confidence, still gathering his own outfit.
I almost have to squeeze myself into my pants when we get changed.
Gonna be time for new clothes soon, I think.
Though judging from the way Khazak is looking at my ass, it might be worth hanging onto these a little longer.
I need help getting the harness on. I’m not even sure which way is up, but Khazak gets it over my head, adjusting my collar to lay on top.
Khazak is dressed similarly, though his pants are less tight.
His harness is also bigger. Where mine stops above my nipples, his is angled down farther, the straps crossing under his pecs entirely.
Over that is a tight dark brown leather vest, which wouldn’t be a color you’d think would work, but it fits in with his skin tone perfectly.
Calling it a vest is also a stretch; it’s basically two strips of leather down both of his sides.
His shoulders are completely exposed, and it seems like it serves only to emphasize.
..all the good stuff. His arms are just as beefy as ever, accentuated more by the dark tattoos around his bicep, while the muscles of his chest are framed perfectly, coarse black hair covering his torso like a small forest.
“Like what you see?” He smirks when he catches me staring.
“Maybe.” It is a nice package.
We throw on our boots, which go really well with the rest of our clothes, and Khazak grabs his trusty satchel.
We stop at the front door on the way out, Khazak running back to the bedroom for what is apparently the final thing we need to complete our look, and something I’m still not crazy about: a leash.
This one is more intricate than the others he’s used on me.
It matches my collar, all metal and made of up thousands of tiny rings like chainmail.
On one end is a leather strap to act as a handle, and the other has a clasp that attaches to my collar.
Given the entire outfit, I’m less annoyed about it than usual.
“Remember our training on protocol?” Khazak asks as he clips on the leash.
“Is tonight going to be one of those times?” I ask, adjusting my collar.
“In some ways, but less formal and more fun. Does that make sense?” He looks me over as he asks.
“I think so, Sir.” And if not, I’ll figure it out.
It’s still light out when we step outside, the sun still has a couple of hours before it goes down for the night.
We walk south, which is where most of the city’s bars are located.
There are more people out than normal at this hour, and that number only grows as we get closer.
Coming up on a cross street, I see two guards posted on either side of the road ahead of us, watching the crowd as they pass through.
“Are they looking for the brimstone thief?” I ask Khazak.
“Yes, but they are primarily there to ensure no one underage wanders in.” Khazak sounds amused. “As the nights progress during the festival, things tend to get more than just clothing optional.”
My face heats up as I consider the implications of that statement.
Now that we’re walking around it, the entire red-light district seems more like a well-lit district.
There are even more people here, men and women dressed like Khazak and me, including some in collars and leashes.
I can hear the sounds of music being played coming from multiple directions and smell all kinds of food.
My stomach growls, and Khazak’s orc hearing must be good enough to pick it up over the crowd because he gives me a look before leading us to one of the food carts.
He holds up two fingers to the orc working the cart and reaches for his pouch.
The guy reaches back, grabbing two kabobs of something that smells very much like chicken, before pausing to look at us.
His eyes are drawn to the leash connecting us, then to Khazak’s face.
He waves off Khazak’s attempt to pay with a smile, saying something cheerful as he hands over the food.
I manage to catch the word “kritar,” which I have learned means “captain,” so this guy knows who Khazak is, and me by extension.
“Expect a lot of that this weekend,” he tells me, his voice a little excited as we walk away.
“Being the captain’s avakesh has its perks,” I declare happily before digging in.
“That helped, but that is not why he gave it to us.” Khazak smiles, taking a small bite of his and swallowing before continuing. “Have you noticed all the couples around us?”
“Yeah, I didn’t realize there were so many avakesh-kavan pairings in the city.” So far, I’ve seen a few out in public and only met one personally.
“There are not.” Another bite. “These people probably all enjoy our...style of doing things, but do not, or cannot, take things further. The festival is an opportunity for them to play a little more publicly, while those of us in a real uzu’gor pairing tend to reap a few extra benefits from their admirers. ”
“So, how’d he know we were really together like that?” We certainly look the part, but so do most of the other people here.
“That is where my public persona came in handy.” He winks.
We walk around the district, taking in the sights together.
A few outdoor bars have been set up, complete with impromptu dance floors.
There are a lot of people here, the most I’ve seen in one place since fighting in the arena.
It’s not just orcs either; I see elves, humans, dwarves, gnomes, halflings…
“You weren’t kidding about the tourism thing.” The crowd is still like 80% orc, but this is the most non-orcs I’ve seen since my arrival.
“Yes, and the number grows every year. It seems we are starting to become more and more of an open secret,” Khazak adds wryly.
“Isn’t that kinda dangerous with the whole ‘hidden city’ thing?” Seems like something you’d try to minimize at least.
“Honestly, I am not sure how much longer keeping the city hidden will be sustainable. Given our size and population, it is rather impressive we have been able to do it for this long,” he says bluntly. “It will only be a few more years before the city will be forced to expand.”
“Really?” Expand how, exactly?
“There is only so much room left inside the walls,” he states, “and our population continues to grow. That is one of the reasons we started keeping livestock—there is not enough room for everyone to hunt.”
We pass (and stop at) even more food and drink carts.
Some are selling dar-buk, which are these fluffy little pastries stuffed with a sweet red jam.
Khazak showed me some of the berries used to make it when we were on patrol.
They were unripe, squishy-looking green orbs, almost like a raspberry but with the outside covered in tiny seeds.
He said they turn red as they grow, which also indicates how sweet they are.