Your mind was hazy, you hadn’t yet recovered from the drugs running through your system. You didn’t really remember what happened on the boat from Readel to Erkos, but at some point you had been drugged. You likely tried to fight back. You now understood how foolish that was.

However, you do remember what had happened before that point. The King of Readel, King Anton, succumbed to sickness. In his place, the next in line Lysander, took the throne.

The Kingdom of Erkos was long time rivals of Readel. After Erkos was defeated in a drawn out war, animosity is held for your people. Lysander crafted a gift, Readel’s finest palace slaves in training. A sort of peace treaty. You were one of those, 12 palace slaves crowded on a boat and shipped off to Erkos. This was a dangerous proposition. No doubt, despite the attempt at peace, Erkosians would not be very fond of a Readelian.

Weeks ago, you laid knelt beside the crown prince of Erkos, Simon. Soon to be named king in ten months, Simon had the air of a royal. Spoilt. He barely regarded you, lazing upon his throne. He has a particular distaste for your people, its common knowledge that he regards Readelians as undignified barbarians. Funny, you think the same as Erkosians.

He was not as decorated as the other Erkosian Councilors in the room. He wore intricate deep blue garments, but no jewelry like the others. His hair is a light blonde, his skin fair like a maiden’s. But he still retains a dominant air around him. Some may foolishly view him as a small blonde buttercup, but he is conniving like a snake.

But now, several weeks later, you suppose you’ve gained Simon’s attention. After a week of being ignored and ordered around, Simon seems to have built up a liking towards you. He keeps you by his side constantly, in his bed, at his lap, attending to him in the bathhouse. This is the life you were taught to expect; serve your master and be treated like a pet. Now, it was glorious. This is what you had been trained to do since you were a young boy.

The servants that wash you in the bathhouse chattered to you all night the day you arrived. As they cleaned you, they talked all about how Simon was cold, never eager to let another into his bed. They truly are a gossipy bunch.

And now is one of those moments. It’s rare that Simon enjoys the extravagances of parties. But today, he attended because his uncle forced him to. While the next months pass until Simon becomes king, his uncle is in charge. Whatever he says, goes.

So here you sit at his side. You sit on the floor next to his chair, your head resting in his lap. He watches the entertainment that goes by in the middle of the room, slowly picking at the food on his plate. Occasionally, he spares you a small piece of meat, bread, or fruit. He seems, uninterested by the pleasantries the unfold before him. But later in the night diplomacy will begin, so he must remain.