Tears of the Neko
Tears of the Neko
By
Taylor Ryan
Text Copyright@ 2014 Taylor Ryan
(Craftingmom/Oh2Bwriting)
All Rights Reserved
This ebook is licensed for your personal
enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to
other people. If you would like to share this book with another
person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If
you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not
purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite
ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting
the hard work of this author.
Table of Contents
"I think you have chosen the perfect slaves
for the Duke, my Lord. We are very proud that you have chosen us to
provide his newest slaves," the slave master grinned, fawning over
the nobleman who had just chosen ten of his best slaves, both human
and hybrid.
"Yes, well, my brother is starting some work
on the east wing of the manor, so we thought this might be the best
place to pick up some suitable labor," Lord Whitmore smoothed over
the front of his elegant coat.
He gracefully ignored the numerous other
patrons of the slave market who were eying him with interest. He
was bored with the whole task of coming down to the slave market,
watching the human and hybrid slaves preen for the noblemen who
wandered around between the large cells displaying them, hoping to
catch the eye of the best master possible.
These slaves had offered themselves to Farth
to be sold in return for serving at least a year as a slave. They
had come to the slave master in hopes that they would be sold to a
master who would care for their needs. Some had been sold to the
slave master from previous owners who no longer needed them. At
that point, they could choose to be free, and thus be on their own,
or accept being sold to the market in hopes of getting a new owner.
When any slave market owner accepted a slave, he accepted the
responsibility of caring for them until they could be sold.
"Anything for the Duke," the portly man bowed
slightly as he led the man back towards his personal office to
conclude the transactions. "Count Whitmore, will you want the
Duke's seal put on their slave collars here, or will the Duke's
slave master do it?"
Harrison Whitmore withheld his grimace at the
continuous mention of his esteemed brother. He loved his brothers,
but his oldest brother was so severe and stoic that he was
downright annoying. Of course, Harrison thought, he hadn't always
been that way. Not until... five years ago.
Damien Whitmore had become The Grand Duke of
Marsten and the current heir to the throne five years ago at the
young age of twenty. Being that their uncle, King Eudon, had never
produced an heir and the three Whitmore brothers were his closest
living relatives, it left Damien next in line to become king. With
his brother's twenty-fifth birthday arriving in a couple days, he
would officially be eligible to take the throne should King Eudon
wish him to.
Damien and Roman had been old enough to
remember when the man had actually been crowned king, while
Harrison had only been a few years old. Harrison knew that their
uncle had been thrust into the role of king over fifteen years ago
as suddenly as his brother had become the Grand Duke when their
parents were killed. Both men wore their titles with the utmost
integrity, but both had lost part of themselves in their service to
their kingdom.
Harrison knew that Damien had no real desire
to be king and neither did he, although their middle brother Roman
would be more than willing. Roman had often tried to talk Damien
into giving up the title to him, knowing how much it weighed on
Damien's head. But Damien took his new role very seriously, and
Harrison always thought maybe it was because he felt guilty about
not being more attentive and helpful when their father was alive.
This was Damien's penance, he figured, to live and work for nothing
but the kingdom.
Being the youngest, Damien had often tasked
Harrison with the workings of the estate. Damien often left the
socializing part to Roman, who was definitely more flirtatious and
charming. He tolerated the uptight, snobbery of the others of their
social class a lot better than Damien did. Of his two brothers,
Damien was the more unemotional. Roman usually called him uptight
and callous. But Harrison always believed his brother felt that he
could never let his emotions show because he was the oldest and
head of the family now.
Roman, however, enjoyed his title and all the
delights that came with it. He enjoyed his power as a high ranking
noble, and sometimes Damien had to chastise him for taking his
power a little too far, especially with the servants and
slaves.
"Arnett will do the collars at the manor,"
the stately blond waved off the eagerness of the slave master. "He
has several slave collars ready to go. Thank you anyway, Master
Farth."
"Very well then. My Lord, if you will just
follow me this way," the man gestured past the last large display
towards his own office. His assistants would be working the market
with the lesser nobles and merchants while he took care of the
Duke's brother.
Harrison Whitmore strode past the rows of
slaves with little more than a glance. The slave market grouped the
slaves in their large display cells based on abilities--labor
slave, house slaves, even pleasure slaves--of course separating
them by male and female as well. The last few cells had held some
of the less desirable, less fit, older slaves that had probably
been passed over before. Nonetheless, most of them were trying to
attract his attention--the females smiled at him coyly, and he saw
several curvy feline features on many of them, while the males
straightened their shoulders and puffed out their chests to look
more able than they probably were.
He paused at the last cell. It was a small
single cage, and he was surprised to see the single slave in it not
trying to vie for his attention. The small form of the little
cat-like human was cowering in the back of its cage. He could see
ribs showing through the thin back of the neko. There were faint
scar lines lacing across the boy's pale skin. Black hair flowed
from the head tucked in the corner, obscuring any features. A dingy
white linen wrapped around the waist of the tiny creature. The
black furred tail peeked out from under the linen and wrapped
tightly around his thighs that were tucked under him. Small black
furred ears twitched slightly at the sound of the slave market's
master stopping nearby.
"What about that one?"
Farth stopped and turned to see who had
captured the attention of the count. He frowned at the little slave
that had been a bane to try to sell.
"That one's too small and too skittish to be
of much use to anyone. I can't even put it with the others because
they won't let it eat and nearly killed it once," the slave master
waved off the slave as he led the gentleman past the cage of the
little neko curled up in back corner.
"Really? Why?" a bemused expression appeared
on the Count's face as he took in the shaking creature.
"Well, look at it," Farth snapped, annoyed by
the neko's existence. He banged his hand on the side of the cage,
rattling the cage noisily, "Hey, Kay!"
If it was possible, the little figure curled
tighter into the corner and started shaking even worse.
"See?" the slave master gestured as if
everything were explained. "It's ridiculously skittish."
"Why would the others try to kill him?"
"Well," Farth hedged, "I don't think they
were trying to kill him, specifically. It was in with some of the
other males, neko males, who had gone into heat, and well..."
Harrison's eyes darkened at the implication
that the little neko had been attacked and raped by several of the
larger neko hybrids. "I see," he growled.
But the slave master continued without seeing
the dark look that crossed the noble's face. "But that was over a
year ago, when I first got him. I almost got rid of him then, not
worth the money to feed him. But thought maybe, he'd grow--"
"Get rid of him?" Harrison queried, his tone
having changed to something more menacing.
"Well, uh," Farth stammered anxiously, afraid
he'd now angered the noble, "I mean--"
"You were going to put him down," Harrison
concluded.
The slave master had no response, and thought
it better not to admit to the infraction. While not illegal, it was
frowned upon to kill hybrid slaves, unless they were so sick they
couldn't serve anymore. "Lord Whitmore, my apologies, but this one
isn't fit for serving--"
"You know it is not generally accepted to put
down an unfit slave," Harrison frowned at the man. It was rare that
slaves were put down, since they could choose freedom, but
occasionally it was determined to be best to relieve society of the
burden of someone who could no longer be of use rather than waste
precious resources on them.
If a slave couldn't function as a freeman,
but was not useful to a master, usually because of sickness or old
age, then sometimes the slave would be mercifully put down.
Harrison hated the idea in general. He and his brothers had debated
the issue on more than one occasion, with him and Damien arguing
against it and Roman not seeing the problem with it.
"Well, sometimes, resources are best used
elsewhere," Farth argued, which was the same argument he'd heard
from Roman many times. "And this one is simply a drain on my
resources, since he is so useless."
A slight smirk appeared on the nobleman's
face. "Actually, this one might be perfect for what I have in mind,
Master Farth."
Farth's eyebrows shot up in surprise at the
thought that anyone would be interested in the pitiful creature.
"Really? I don't see how. It's not worth much in labor, and it'd be
a horrible servant..."
"Yes, well, my brother's birthday is coming
up. I think it might be amusing to present him with a little pet,"
Harrison smirked.
He knew Damien would be annoyed beyond words
at the timid creature. His brother had always hated the simpering
women who fawned all over him, and the men who acquiesced to
anything he said without thought. He believed everyone should hold
themselves with pride, defend and protect what they thought was
right, and as such he treated them with respect. It would be
amusing to watch Damien deal with the little neko.
"Ahh, well," Mr. Farth beamed at the thought
of selling the filthy little creature, "Of course, it would make a
great little pet," he started to try to build up the little hybrid.
He reached to the lock on the cage door, then grabbed at the chain
laying on the cage floor, yanking it. "Get out here. Someone wants
to look at you, boy."
Harrison grimaced slightly as Farth pulled
the chain that yanked the neck of the neko. The critter hissed
slightly before it crawled to the door and unfolded itself to stand
in front of them, head and shoulders still hunched forward, fine
ebony hair falling over his face. One small arm crossed to hold the
other elbow nervously. The small black ears were flattened back on
his head in fear, his tail wrapped tightly against his body and
curled around one leg.
"How old is he? Fifteen?" Harrison asked,
walking around the boy, studying the little creature's back as it
tried to curl in on itself and looked even smaller. Even if the boy
straightened to full height, Harrison doubted he'd be much taller
than five feet. At over six feet, Harrison and his brothers would
tower over this creature. Well, for that matter, almost anyone
would.
"Not sure, actually," Farth said proudly, "I
believe about eighteen. It just looks younger since it was a runt.
His former master sold him to me with several others last year. I
haven't had any luck selling him, though. No one needs a slave so
small and--" he stopped, about to say useless, but thought better
of it. He didn't want to talk the Count out of buying the runt.