Oly was worn down by being treated like Hesiat’s earring. Oh, how pretty, where is he from? Lucky man, Aoskrali is so far! They’re worth a fortune. Some of them, thinking themselves culturally wise, asked Hesiat what color Oly was blessed with, but this was also a thinly veiled way of asking how valuable he was—some were rarer than others. It was like asking about the kind of gemstones in someone’s ring. The best of them, like Captain Dwek, gave Oly a polite nod to acknowledge he existed, and then paid him little mind if he remarked on the conversation at all. Despite his earlier resolve to help Hesiat, frustratingly, the only way he’d found was to stand still and look pretty. The latter he excelled at. The former…

Looking around, he wasn’t the only slave in the room, and most were much more decorated than he was. Oly spotted a girl lounging on her lady’s lap, her collar a lace-like silver masterpiece that stretched from collarbone to jawline. When she wasn’t idly staring at the crystalline chandeliers or the people going by, she was being fed chocolates from her mistress’s hand. Oly met her eyes and gave a sympathetic smile, glancing around the room as if to say, aren’t you bored? She gave a relaxed little smirk and shrugged one shoulder, then jerked her head towards the other end of the room.

Oly looked and saw another slave being pulled around by the sleeve. The young man was gazing longingly at the comfortable chairs and food around the periphery of the room, but his master only stopped chatting with fellow guests long enough to frown and tug at the slave for lagging behind.

Oly looked back at the girl to concede the point, but she was accepting another chocolate and resting her head in the crook of her lady’s shoulder. He gave Hesiat a considering look (he looked just as bored as Oly did), hit again with the urge to see how far he could push.

“My king.” He whispered, tugging gently at Hesiat’s sleeve to capture his master’s attention. “I need some fresh air. May I go out on the deck?”

There was a serious moment where he thought he’d be turned down, as Hesiat’s gaze went from his collar, to his pin, then around the room. Has the point been made, can he lose face by letting me wander… Finally, he patted Oly’s head and nodded. Hesiat whispered in Oly’s ear,

“There was spiced mead from Little Hill Village up on deck that I never got to try. When you come back, grab some for the both of us.” Oly nodded with a little smirk and slipped away.

Oly climbed the stairs to get on deck, noticed there was still plenty of mead left. And decided to go off and find some privacy. Ready to burn off some of the energy built up from the evening, Oly went to go the gangway.

Reaching the end, there was an unpleasant tug under the skin of his throat. Outside the castle walls, he was tethered to his master by an invisible leash. He didn’t exactly enjoy the constant pressure provoked just by going this far—a sensation that wasn’t quite pain, but bordered on being. It hummed like a warning, ever-present but eventually tolerable. He should return to Hesiat’s side sooner than later. Probably later.

Oly leaned forward against the railing, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath of the warm breeze. Already, it had burgeoning hints of the sea. They were passing through the harbor town of Masaa—neutral territory—and in a few minutes they’d be sailing into the international waters of the ocean. Of course, that left everyone involved vulnerable, so Oly felt safe assuming that there were enough cannons and ammunition to level a small mountain lurking just below the party deck of the ship.

The flames of streetlights and candlelit windows bobbed on by, thinning more and more as the harbor outskirts took up his view instead. There was laughter and shouting on the wind—no doubt the remaining lights were from dockworkers and harbored sailors seeking their company and drink for the night.
His heart squeezed with homesickness. He'd tried to join those voices once as a stupid teenager, he even got some servant’s clothes as a disguise, but his mother caught him sneaking out and gave him the scolding of his life. It’s dangerous out there, you could have been taken advantage of, all the usual talking points. He’d like to say he got smarter about getting his kicks in later, but exactly that kind of thinking had gotten him in this situation. As bitter as the thought tasted, the consequences of his impulsiveness more or less spoke for itself.

Finally they entered the ocean, and the city lights were nothing but grounded stars fading behind them. He watched them shrink for a while, wondering what kind of light this lonely ship gave off, before he turned his attention to the moonlight glittering on the sea.

He heard a faint boom to his left, making him flinch and squint in that direction. The lights of two ships bobbed on the water half a horizon away, with a third light slowly approaching. There was a short, small flash, followed shortly by another boom. Cannon fire. Oly’s eyes widened when a pink glow grew more and more on the deck of the approaching ship, followed by a trail of sparks blasting off from them like a shooting star. He didn’t know what it was until it collided with the side of a ship, where it exploded in a dazzling display of sparkling color. Oly almost laughed; he’d never thought of the combative abilities of fireworks before, especially when a fire broke out on the enemy deck and cast much more light on the situation.
A small, highly decorated ship, dominated by an older ship with moonlight shining through the holes in its sails. The civilian ship was showing no signs of defending themselves, and the interrupting vessel was still shrouded in shadow.

Oly’s eyes darted over the scene one last time before he ran away, following the unseen tether to his master. Hopefully with the king at his side, the captain would listen when he warned of pirates.