The room I find myself in is not a room at all. It is a balcony that looks out over a grand space that must take up a good three stories in the belly of this ship. There are people down at the very bottom, and others on similar railed edges on the other floors. I imagine that this was set up stadium style so that they could all watch something happen on the lowest floor. A sport, maybe.
I am facing a good three thousand Vikar. I do not have eyes for any of them. I do have eyes for Thor, who is brought out next to us in chains. He has been stripped to his underwear, andhe shows signs of bruises and abrasions consistent with either fighting or having taken a beating.
“This is where we sacrifice our prisoners,” Drako declares to a throaty roar of applause from the ship’s crew.
“But today, we will not be impaling this pretty little prisoner on anything other than my dick,” he declares.
The answering cheer is slightly muted, and I realize that many of these people came here to watch us die. It’s not often I decide I hate three thousand guys at once, but I definitely feel a combination of fury and fear that makes my pulse quicken.
Drones fly around me and Thor and Drako, projecting our images onto large screens so everyone can see what is happening as if they were up close and personal. I realize that I am about to be put on public display in a manner I never imagined before.
“We attempted to establish a colony!” Drako continues. “But the Frayer ship made an appearance and was removed from play. Almost all perished, save these two.”
I hear a reluctant sound of something that might be admiration, or at least begrudging respect coming from some of the crew.
“These two banded together and acted as allies when our position was overrun with the vile flesh eaters,” Drako continues. “For that, they have earned some mercy.”
There’s grumbling. I think I start to see the crowd thin. They wanted blood. They’re not interested in how mercy tastes.
“But this man thought he would bring me to Frayer justice,” Drako says, gesturing at Thor.
A roar of disgust goes up at the very idea.
“And in so doing, he got another full vessel of his people killed,” Drako smirks.
A bold laugh goes up around the arena. Oh, yes. I definitely hate this crew. They are here for blood and treachery, and terrible, painful, awful things. They want us to suffer. They want to revel in it. They are not that different than those flesh-eating creatures really.
“And of course, they were captured,” Drako says. “And now they will be punished before you, until we are all satisfied that they have atoned.”
“Don’t touch him!” I shout, suddenly panicked at the idea of what they might do to Thor, and how many things are worse than death. “Do it to me! Do it all to me!” My anguished outburst echoes around the arena, bathing the ears and minds of the assembled crowd.
“Oh, don’t worry, I intend to do it all to you,” Drako replies.
A rough laugh goes up again.
“I will take that deal,” Drako says. “And do not be disheartened, men, because we are getting much more in the way of vengeance than you might imagine. This little scrap of a Frayer girl is more than she seems. She seems coddled. She seems spoiled…”
He looks at me, and something in the moment tells me this is the time to engage with this fucking insanity.
“I am a spoiled little Frayer girl. And I am the daughter of the founder of Weltheim. I am your enemy, and I hate you.”
Drako smirks at me, his smile so broad I almost feel as though I have made him proud. He wanted that moment. He wanted me to reveal my parentage. If he said something to me now Iwouldn’t be able to hear it because the roar coming from the crowd is overpowering.
“Enough! It’s not her fault that her father was one of the Frayer bastards who took land that did not belong to him and helped found a cursed city. She is an innocent.”
Again, the crowd grumbles, thinking it is going to be denied.
“And what is done to innocents?” Drako’s voice is strong with that rhetorical question booming out to the audience.
“They are defiled,” he says, to uproarious effect.
Drums start beating somewhere.
“I would have disrobed you myself, but you made that difficult with that knife,” he says while the ship clamors for my ravaging.
“Strip!” he shouts.
I hesitate, but I know if I do not obey, then I will be stripped anyway, and Thor will be hurt. More than he has already been. I know they’re capable of truly terrible, absolutely dark things, and I know that I already agreed to this, though I did not understand how overwhelming it would be.
