the Plenitude

On the plenitude Xianthe was bound to be disappointed by the love letter he Agrippa had left. He wrote steadily in conservative hand.

"My dear Xianthe, if you are reading this it means you have made it safely to the Plentitude. The yacht was built specifically for this trip by men who I employed some time ago after your disappearance from Port Kar. It seemed the wisest thing to do considering at the time I thought I might end up making many trips across the channel. On board I have put six lean thralls which you must keep well fed and well attended during the journey. They will be the oars men and they will be lead by one Tiller man until you can reach the mainland. They are chained at the oar benches along side this cabin and you should take care that they remain that way. See to their water well, and be kind for they were not always slave at the oars."


Xianthe was incensed, of course, instructions?! Thralls? She was to be alone on this boat? She screamed! She balled up that letter and threw it on the ground before she stormed to the deck with every intention of getting off the wretched ship and running back to: the Ubar! "Agrippa!" she shrieked as she reached the top, her hand clenched in the folds of her skirt. Sorp had seen there was more and brought the letter back to her, smoothing it over her thigh and insisting she keep reading.

"The tiller man is a man who I have known and known of and you must be kind to him as well though he is not slave. He has lived ten each of our lifetimes and can confess to more riches then any man should but never will. I chose these men specifically for this voyage as I can not be on the Plentitude with you. The Plenitude is a race built sloop, equipped with masts and as many as four sail when sailing wing to wing. Her hull has been polished and coated in the glazed shell of abalone and her enamel sanded by hand to the finest degree.”

Xianthe was swearing as she read, tears on her cheeks! As she read she sank slowly to sit on the deck in a mountain of my own dress and petticoats. Ridiculously upset for the most selfish reasons. The letter went on.

"Plenitude means the ample amount or quantity of abundance; it is the condition of being full and complete. When I named her on that cool evening looking out at the sunset I gave her the name which gives her the finest meaning I could give to you." Of course foolish Agrippa had written the letter thinking she would feel how much his thoughtfulness had been given to the t ask but of course Xianthe saw only the horror of it somehow, but she did slowly see how much thought he had put into it. It made absolutely no sense at all to her but she could see it. She just couldn't ever feel complete when he wasn't there to tell her to shut up. She could feel the gentle rocking of the boat and tried to let it sooth her and the ache she was feeling in her belly. She had to smooth the crumpled letter out again over her thighs and run the back of her gloved hand over her eyes before she continued. Of course Agrippa should have known that all the thought he put into the plenitude would just be a speed bump for Xianthe’s greed when she realized he wasn't there or might not be there. He should have known her well enough to realize this sort of thing. Perhaps it was the length of separation that had made his letter to be written with happiness and joy and be received with abject tearful disappointment. The letter went on.

" I have seen to the interior myself, and you will find the couch is small but plush with goose down and the bed it is in I hand carved the trailing edge with a little wave. I hope you will forgive my hand init but it was the effort that meant the most to me, knowing you might run your hand over it while petting Sorp."

Xianthe paused and lifted her head a little, the wind tugged at a wisp of ebony curl and she ran her teeth over her lower lip. Agrippa did not do thoughtful things for her. He had never so much as given her a bit of jewelry. She was unsure, seriously unsure, how to react at all to this. He hand carved a bed for her? Had he hidden snakes inside of it?! She glanced at Sorp, who was reading over her shoulder and once more ran her fingers under the bottom edge of her eyes.

"As you are a fine woman and cannot be exposed to vulgarity on a journey such as this, even if the exposure might be to slaves. I have taken the chance to break with the designer of the Plenitude and install for you a privy toward the rear of her interior. As you can see, the entire interior is devoted to your being and you may if you wish never leave her cozy belly. I have put a curtain at the back for your own tastes and again I hope you do not find it too crude to see that I have sewn your name into it in my own rather crude script."

Xianthe laughed. This had to be a joke. Any second now He was going to jump out and demand that she strip so he could whip her for believing this nonsense. It was nonsense right? She glanced in the direction of said privy and tried to imagine what that would even be like to have Agrippa build a ship just for her, with so much attention to details, details just for her. She shifted onto her hip, her legs curled under her skirts and returned to reading.

“In a yacht such as this there is room for a small galley which I think Sorp will find more then adequate for your meals and for the meals of the six above you three to either side. You will be moving quite swiftly and I hope that you will learn to accustom yourself to the little push forward and back of the oars combined with the crest of the gunnels as they skip over the swells. During the test runs I found it immensely compelling. All of this is to say" The letter went on, "That I have missed you Xianthe and have planned for your return to her all along. The plenitude, a sleek and beautiful thing to me, has occupied her at times when I missed you and I hope that you see that in her making. I will rendezvous with you when you make the mainland and look forward to hearing of your time at court. Sincerely, the one who thinks of you as his, Agrippa."

Xianthe was silent for a long time when she finished reading, the letter it was clutched in her gloved hands. She hesitated and then pulled off her gloves so she could touch the letter with her bare fingers. She was so angry with him for not being there with her! She was angry with him for being kind so suddenly, For making her feel conflicted and grateful. Mostly though, she was angry that he was not here now, to show her what he had done for her. To hold her and kiss her and remind her her she didn't have to be everything she had been pretending to be. She needed to give in and relax. Agrippa wasn't here to be her hot bath. After awhile she rose, when she realized he wasn’t actually about to jump out and laugh at her. She wanted to go see this bed and this privy and this bit of embroidery. It was going to be all she had to sooth her on what seemed like a very long and very lonely journey. She did not have to go far to find the bed, or far to go anywhere in the interior and she found it just as he had predicted with some room for her deliberation in the privy and enough room to make herself comfortable. She found the galley well stocked and the fittings all as fine as he could afford them, she could already feel the chuffing as they had put out to sea and hear the little drum above as it beat the mark. A series of small portals gave her a view both below the water and above and she could see the stars on the horizon and the oars as they moved, soon she could feel and see that they were making great speed, miraculous speed in fact. As that was her mission.

I Don't Even Know You.

I don’t even know you.

I sit in the bathroom, in front of the mirror. It hangs off the wall at an angle making my face shorter and older. I pull up the razor in my right hand and pull back the hair with my left. “It only hurts if you let it.” I hear my father saying. I love that man. I wonder if I will ever be able to live up to who he was. He just knew, and sometimes what he knew is the only thing I know. I cut right into the hair, and just drag back. Do you know why you can’t just keep cutting it all at the same length? Why the second hort is longer then the first? Because hair can actually resist the razor, make it slip down the stalk. Hair fights with blade, saves itself a little longer. I chuck a chunk on the white floor and look back into the mirror. Only a patch of grey scalp and then that victorious group nearby cursing, we’re still here you bastard!

Bit is still downstairs. I can hear her moaning, crying, screaming. What ever that damn noise is she’s making, fucking bitch. I almost smile, but the tired man in the mirror isn’t smiling back. I lift the razor again.

At the park, she lied to me. And what got me about it was that it was like the first time I ever noticed she lied to me. It wasn’t, there are lover’s lies and there are lies. Slaves lie. They have a sense of self preservation. Sometimes you let them lie, because its amusing and you know. Sometimes you let them lie because it’s not worth your time to go out sleuthing to make sure they didn’t grab grapes off a cart when no one saw. I’m a man and I have better things to do then spend all my time obsessed with the pettiness of young girls. And that’s what they are. That’s what slaves are. Even the old ones, I’ve seen it. They retain that girl, that little girl.

At the park, Lola mourns. Mourns herself mourns the past mourns the loss of all that was without the hope of better days and feels the pressure of others, who see what she feels, yet interpret it as hate when she sees only sorrow. I spoke to her after the big blow up. The glitter theft of the century, the most vicious whipping any en girl has ever given a second girl. And she really hates it when I tell her what I think she thinks. And I really hate it when she tells me she doesn’t think what I think she thinks and just says nothing more. The list of things she thinks bit should do better, as true a list as any ever made, save a few barbarian girls expectations of what bred slaves are that are wrong; would have fooled anyone else into believing there is hate there. But what do I know of how an earth girls mind works? I just try to accept it now. She’s been with me a long time. Maybe she’s just done with it. Women are like that. They say they will do anything for you, that they have no expectations, and that they exist for you. Then anything turns out to mean anything, and having no expectations means having a host of unspoken expectations.

At the park, Bit lies. Lola cries. Do I know them? Do they know me?

So much going on now and the voice of my father returns to me, “Know your station and let ambition guide you only as well as your talents consume you. Know you’re place, for while there is honor in achievement, there is contentment and joy in realizing ones real ability.” I remember when he told me, after the first time out on that sloop. It was just me and that mast and that chop in the breakers, trying to round the sea wall At Telnus wing on wing, hauling as fast as I could up the streamers. I recall how that sea wall ended my wind on the Telnus side and had me dragging the sloop off the break water a day later when the wind came down. I thought he was telling me I’d never be as good as him while I was pumping and panicking all the way in but now, well now I get it.

“Shut the fuck up!” I shout at the new higher pitched whining from the downstairs dining area where bits been nailed down. I lift the razor to my head again and chop off as much as my hair will allow and ask the eyes in the mirror if there’s a wind on the Thassa side I cant feel. What if when I get around this sea wall, these many sea walls, what if it all becomes clear like it did that day, that the wind that’s driving me is a failing wind, a false friend, a dead end?

“This is what happens to a man whose main comfort is slaves you know.” I tell the man in the mirror pointing the razor at him. “This wouldn’t have happened if you had just companioned that girl and made a place for you right there at home.” My mother, and her interminable concern I would become like my father. An endless pursuit of the sea and a new horizon, how he neglects her, and how right she was that I would become him, even drive myself to become him. He knew, he knew what it was to be real, to be who you were supposed to be. How did he know? How does he know?

“Shut the Fuck up!” I shout at the floor at my left arm, over my shoulder. Shout at the wailing cry Bit has started to make. At the park Bit lies but now she kneels doesn’t she? I smirk as I listen to her try to control it. My father would have killed her straight away and in front of everyone too I don’t doubt it. The ihn he saw that look in her eye. Oh kings what a feeling that was. I couldn’t decided if I cared more because she was doing it in front of me in the park or because I hadn’t seen that look before or if I had even cared. I should have gut her and she’s not going to bring me anything from Valentin. I’m almost convinced of it after even a short time. I should have brought in a free woman. At least I know what he likes now. I feel myself smirking. A young lady of excellent breeding whose youth makes her malleable. Not Xianthe.

“Not Xianthe right?” I ask the man in the mirror with half his head shorn in ragged blocks.

“I’d have to get out there somehow, “ As I pulled the razor across the hair again, “beat the fleet to the Thassa,. Its probably still in the Delta.” Probably impossible, Lucian of Temos thought us all traitors now, though we had assumed this city as part of Cos he would not have it without his word being given first. I shook my head and dropped more hair on the ground rubbing my scalp. He was just too attached to his power, shelled up in his palaces, that’s what happens to all great men who find themselves in constant demand, constant attack from within and without. They grow over cautious, prideful. See betrayal among their loyalist subjects. On the other hand 2300 gold tarns was what any Ubar would take from their spoils. He certainly hadn’t denounced the gold. No not the gold. Only my achievement. My achievement. But not my ability?

Would Lola recall Xianthe? I wondered as I lift up and stared into questioning brown eyes. And where was Lola in all this? She flees me now. Where would she be in all this noise as Bit screams? Could she be huddling in the basement among the finery with the key only she has for the door, no, or I would have seen her when I fetched the hammer and nails? Is she on the roof huddled among the tomatoes with her fingers in her ears?

“She’s gone mate,” I tell the brown eyed fellow. “Even when she’s here she’s gone. Gone to the place love slaves go when they can’t handle it anymore. You know you were an idiot to tell her you loved her.” The brown eyed fellow and I share a laugh. “They start to think you owe them something. And every time they don’t get it, well…” The brown eyed man with the three quarters shorn head seems to sagely agree with me. But he and I continue the work of tearing out the vanity in every follicle.

What was that she said? I look up and take the last of the hair from my head. I watch it fall and run my palm over the thick stubble. High and tight, proper, won’t hold a sweat, won’t catch a hand. Race built hull. Me and the fellow opposite seem pleased. There is blood and dark spots on the skull. The skin is mottled. It looks as though my skull has been telling my story for me while it hid beneath the hair. About time I told it for myself. I hear a word, a sound from below and I get up. I thank the man in the mirror for his sage advice and I can tell he’s the only one who really knows me but I think that a few people might be getting a better idea lately. Then there’s that noise again. I get up and go to the overlook down into the main dining room where I can see her nailed to the table. Her thumbs don’t look good, Distended, too pale. Her calves down look good, too flat, too white. I can still smell it up here in the room.

“Shut the fuck up! Do you want another one you fucking liar!”

Fleet week

I took leave like I usually do around this time of the En Var and it improve my mood substantially. I went ahead and got the new girl and kings I was right to do it. I spent the next few days raping and sodomizing to my hearts content. Glory as I named her, I bought from the slavers house who had the reputation for selling the dirtiest lowest sluts in town. And kings this girl is good. It really makes me think of how it must have been after the slave wars. When men taught women what it was they were going to get for trying to defeat them. She and Valentin went off together at least once. I know that pious man of the people is probably raping them for information, but that’s what they are for. Her and Bit both. I’d probably send Lola out to the taverns too but there is no fucking way I want to deal with her emotional damage. She’s a big enough pain in my ass when I don’t water the daisies out back before they wilt. She cries like I killed her best friend. That girl cries easy and it’s a good thing I like making girls cry or I would have been rid of her already long ago. She’s a good girl though, Happy and sweet, and acts like a little girl when I put it in her. She keeps me happy, and that’s what they are for.

Bits turning out to be very interesting, even though I know she is as freaked out as any slave girl ever is when they come into a house where the other girl has been around for a long, long time. Its painful I can see it that she doesn’t have a history with me, all things in their time. I had a philosophical conversation with Bit about slaves giving birth to their masters children. This is a talk that never ceases to amaze.

Quick summary of the way this conversation plays out every single time. “Master you wouldn’t free me to have your child?” enter pouty face.

Let’s run down why this is the most amazing yet constantly repeating conversation I think every man has had with one of their girls at some point.
A: why would I want to have a child whose mom was my slut?
B: What do you tell said child when they ask what a slave is? Are you seriously going to pretend mommy wasn’t a slut if you leave her free to raise the child?
C: What do you do when all their mates find out they were born from a slave? Wipe their tears and tell them you can be anything you want to be? In a caste society? Bitch please.
D: Have you ever seen a slut go crazy when you take away their baby and re-collar them? “Master I need your collar.” Master where are you taking my baby!” priceless.

So I tried to set Bit straight on it and I think she got it after a while. Then Lola showed up and we had a little discussion of how things were on planet crazy where she was born. As near as I can figure it’s a planet of poisoners where all the men are slaves who only manage to get what they want by tricking women. Its no wonder all the barbarian girls are so happy.


I put Lola in charge of both glory and Bit, which is actually something she isn’t really capable of doing, which means she will make them meals and little outfits and basically mother them and maybe they will come to like her maybe they wont. They don’t have to. Their duty is outside the house, keeping me happy by getting me connected with people in this labyrinth of a city.

I found a basement in the new house on goat hill, and the place needs some things. I’ve got a few ideas knocking around about opening one of the old taverns in town and stocking it. Bit and Lola will have a fit but Glory would drip. Might be worth it, keep the people happy, give me a place to find out what the kings is going on in this place. Before it sets itself on fire.


(*Post not meant to impact roleplay. Meant as background for Agrippas thoughts only. Just meant to be fun.)

Once upon a time there were two blondes

I was still disturbed by the night before. Bit was right only in the fact that Lola didn’t want her around and I couldn’t help but focus on the meaning of that. Lola was possessive and possessiveness was a sin among slaves. A sin I could not broker. At the same time I was angry at Bit. She was feeling sorry for herself for things that were blatantly untrue. And she kept doing it even after I told her where she was wrong about things which meant she wasn’t really believing me, and how much closer to calling me a liar did you need?

The difficulty for me that added to the whole thing was that the way the girls didn’t like each other made me not want to be around either of them. I’m sure I would have heard the whine of complaint about it if I was honest out loud but I don’t think slave girls understood that the demands of a man are often unreasonable. And I didn’t want to have to be reasonable all the time. I wanted to be selfish. That was the prerogative of my gender. It was the victory we had won at the slave wars and one I would not forfeit like so many others of my sex.

It also resolved me to get a third girl. The opposite of what the girls wanted, which is how it often worked when girls weren’t all that interested in my amusement anymore divvying me up like a slab of pie.

“It was so ridiculous!” I pound the table where I sat, I spent time with both of them! I liked them each for different reasons in different ways and all I wanted was to like them both together. Damn them!

I had to put Lola as first girl, Now that it was obvious they weren’t going to get along on their own I had to give up and put someone in charge and seniority was a good way to do it. Yet I knew that I was just asking for a bunch of hang dog looks and self pity over it too, and the ihn that Lola said a single word of pride Bit would be miserable and if she didn’t Bit would be miserable thinking she was kissing ass.

“Seriously, are either of these slaves interested in pleasing me or is it a competition between them?” I went down to the market, to walk off the noise in my head.

A Treasure Fleet Leaves for Cos

(As soon as he received the Ubars letter by tarn messenger he put about getting the treasure fleet together that could sail that much gold back to Cos. It made perfect sense that the Ubar would want his loot from Port Cos now that it was under my control, indeed, it was to be expected. It was merely painful not to have enough time to stabilize things, plan a better fleet, and provide more protection for the gold. It was so much freaking money. I wrote as deliberately as possible.)

Dear Ubar, I gratefully pay your tribute and hope that all is well in Cos. I send you fondest regards and hope that you will send the lady Xianthe my love as well. I am sending her barge home to Cos with the treasure fleet, the Xianthe’s pride. It has served me well. I am sure that Xianthe will be glad to see it and I have left a gift for her on board. She will know where to find it.

Upon receiving your request for repayment to Cos, I was I admit, bewildered. I do not have any records of such a vast sum being paid out to the covert services I have been involved in. Indeed, opening and running a dress shop in Port Kar while gathering information was almost self sustaining and I hardly would have known what to do with 2300 double gold tarns. Are you certain that the money was not stolen enroute? I have no record of receiving it. The venture here in Port Cos was financed using my estates in Cos, primarily from my guardianship of Xianthe, your now Ubara, A destiny for her for which I could not have been more joyful. During the dinner prior to our meeting with you I expressed my great joy that she had come to such heights with all my heart directly into hers.

(I paused, while writing this and reached for more pistachios before continuing.)

In any case, the treasure fleet should arrive in Telnus 20 hands from the writing of this letter should the winds and seas remain favorable. I have set it out onto the Vosk already with regret that I could not provide it with a Cosian crew but only the men I have been able to hire using my own money. I rejoice only in the fact that some of them were once Cosian, before the great struggle.


(I signed the Letter with all the flourish possible and sent it by tarn messenger. News of the Treasure fleet voyage was sure to leak out but there was nothing to be done about it.)