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I'm having little trouble with the next chapter of Homecomings, (who'd have thought that coordinating a land air battle would be so hard,) so I thought I'd upload this. It's very much a work in progress. It's set in the Scarborough Fair universe, but takes place in the Cormoran Royal Commonwealth. (And yes, Domina Gloria Paros is the same person mentioned in the Prologue to my current story.) It was inspired by a story by Robert Howard and is very much a work in progress. I hope you enjoy this little vignette.

"Damn Fashion," Kosro thought, wrapping his cloak about him as he got into the aircar Domina Gloria had sent for him, the Paros family crest prominently displayed on the doors. Long cloaks and thigh high boots were this year's Fashion for men, which made sitting down and getting through doors quite the adventure. And you didn't even want to get him started on wearing cloaks on windy days. Zahira had an easier time getting in, wearing nothing but a simple slave tunic and sandals. The translucent white of the low cut, sleeveless gown falling to mid thigh contrasted nicely with her black fur, while her red collar provided a splash of color to the ensemble. After getting in the aircar, the cat morph obediently knelt on the floor in front of him, knees well spread, back gently arched to thrust out her breasts, head up but with her eyes looking down at a spot between her knees, paws on her thighs, palms up, and with her tail raised in a graceful S curve behind her. The leash hung down gracefully between her breasts while she awaited his pleasure. The dark haired human looked down at his slave, wondering again at the impulse that had led to his buying her. Accounting had certainly thrown an epic fit. But it wouldn't do for a nobleman, even a wastrel nobleman of uncertain provenance, to be without a servant of some sort.

As he entered the entryway, smiling fem slaves dressed in nothing but gray collars, lace caps and frilly see through aprons took his cloak, giving him a receipt and directing him to the discreet security station. There, the guards politely confiscated his pistol and scanned him for other firearms, as they had for all the guests. His broadsword and belt knife were left alone. Once cleared, Kosro entered the main audience hall, Zahira obediently following like a good slave. He paused in the doorway so the Portcullis Pursuivant could announce him. "The Count Kosro al'Malik," he called, a concealed microphone on his collar amplifying his voice so all could hear.

Having been announced, Kosro descended the steps leading into the ballroom. Behind him the other guests paused to be announced, then descended to join the party as well.

On first glance, Kosro decided that Zahira's simple slave tunic was rather demur compared to what many of the other slaves were wearing, or not wearing.

The large marble hall was filled with people of all types. Naturally, the most numerous were Cormoran, but many other races and species were present as well. Towards the center of the room, Kosro could see a representative of the alien Varen Conglomerate, standing a head taller than even the Cormorans. He had an elongated head and face, with his chin reaching almost halfway down his chest, and long narrow fingers, four on each hand. His pupils were sea blue, seemingly filling his eye sockets, and contrasting with his dark brown skin. The elaborate robes he wore concealed his body from the neck down, while his raised cowl made him seem even taller. Beside him were two Vroxian bodyguards, two and a half meters tall and covered in brown fur. They grasped the massive greatswords they favored in two of their four hands, and glared suspiciously about them.

Kosro's briefings came back to him. The Varen Conglomerate was a technologically advanced but non expansive alien empire that bordered both the CRC and the Confederation. Little was known about its internal workings. The tall emissaries were generally called Varens and considered to be the dominant race, but even that wasn't certain. Nor was the status of the Vroxians. Some claimed they were a subordinate race, while others claimed they were full partners to the Varens, and still others claimed the Vroxians were the dominant race and the Varens were merely their servants. The Varen Conglomerate was notoriously closed mouthed about their society. The fact that they even had emissaries in the CRC was unusual. And the fact that they were attending a function at the Paros family home underlined how important that family was.

Kosro accepted a drink from one of the many slaves circulating in the hall. These slaves wore naught but gray collars as they offered the guests refreshments, including themselves. Off in one corner Kosro could see one of the male guests availing himself of the oral services of one of the female slaves. A slight curl of his lip showed what Kosro thought of the guest's lack of impulse control. Revealing a potential weakness like that in public was inviting trouble.

Looking around as he sipped at a quite excellent brandy, Kosro spotted an Archprelate of the Universal Church of the Pancreator. He was wearing the formal robes of his office, and was flanked by two Warrior Adepts of the Church, carrying their broadswords unsheathed but pointed down. Despite their empty pistol holsters, they looked competent and deadly, scanning the crowd for any possible threats. The Warrior Adepts wore plate armor that would have looked right at home in the prespaceflight medieval era, but Kosro knew that in actual fact it was some of the most sophisticated powered armor around. The Universal Church was rich, and more than willing to outfit their troops with the best weapons and armor available. He was sure that their checked pistols would be powerful energy weapons, and he would have bet a small fortune that the broadswords incorporated the rare and oh so expensive vibro technology. Once activated, the vibro blades would be able to cut through almost anything.

As he looked out over the crowd, Kosro was acutely aware of his own empty pistol holster. "At least they didn't take my blades," he thought. He rested one hand on his broadsword, and instantly felt a little better. The other hand kept a firm grip on Zahira's leash, even though she didn't seem inclined to wander far from him.

Ranged to either side of her throne were many of Domina Gloria's slaves, male and female, human and morph. They wore silver collars connected by golden chains and were posing as provocatively as possible, under penalty of a stint in the punishment chambers. Transparent veils and shaved genitals emphasized their nudity and vulnerability. Some of the males wore cruel looking chastity devices, while many of the females had pierced nipples, drawing attention to their breasts.

Other slaves lounged around her throne, wearing golden collars and skimpy g-strings to show their favored status. Kneeling to the right of the throne and holding a refreshments tray was a naked Cormoran, chained and gagged. Once a rival to Domina Gloria, after her defeat she had been reduced to an obedient slavegirl.

Four Cormoran Sword Dancers stood in front of the throne, holding the matched swords of their deadly martial art, while just behind it stood two Tssek mercenaries, armed to the teeth with pistols, sliver carbines and curved swords. Tsseks resembled nothing so much as giant snakes with four arms. They were uncommon and insanely expensive to hire, but were totally loyal, as long as they were paid. It was all a very graphic display of Gloria's wealth and power.

And there, on her throne, the center of attention for all, was Domina Gloria Paros herself. Tall and lithe, like all Cormorans, her long chestnut hair was carefully styled to fall gracefully over her shoulders, partially covering the upper part of her midnight blue gown. It was tailored to fit her like a glove, discreetly outlining her body, and giving her easy access to her constant companions, the matched daggers she called Desire and Despair.

She smiled and spoke familiarly with everyone who approached her, yet her red tinted eyes remained cold and calculating, evaluating everyone there as to their potential value to her cause.

Cruel and deadly, she had vast influence with the CRC government, even though she held no public office herself. A patron of the arts, a spinner of plots, and a participant in the deadly games of the Grand Arena, she was every inch the aristocrat and matriarch of her family.

Despite being a veteran of over 200 death matches in the Grand Arena, her beauty was still flawless, a testimony to both her combat skills and the efficacy of her ReJuv unit.

To the left and slightly behind her throne was another, much less comfortable, throne. Seated in it was a male Cormoran, naked, gagged and tightly strapped into the seat with bands around his chest, forearms, waist, neck and ankles. The throne was laced with pain inducers, and they went off at irregular intervals, causing him to thrash and twist his body in agony. The gag allowed only muffled sounds to come out of his mouth. The rumors were that this was Gloria's brother, who had attempted to unseat her as head of the family. He had been defeated and his partisans executed, but because of their family relationship, Gloria hadn't had him killed, but merely imprisoned. During special occasions, he was taken out of his cell and displayed to the public, a graphic example of what happens to those who oppose the matriarch of the Paros family.