Warning: This chapter is particularly dark. The contents are extremely non-consensual. If you're sensitive about this kind of think, I recommend skipping this chapter specifically. Go read the Ponce & Tobin chapters again; they're a lot more light-hearted and fun.
Trevor stood watch outside the general’s tent. It was his second week of garrison duty, and he already felt that he would go mad before he completed his service. He missed Caitlyn so.
A trio of soldiers pushed forward two dark-skinned Vermaini women toward the general’s tent. The women were finely dressed, not like the service women on the far side of the Welkon (who the other soldiers seemed to visit any time they could sneak away from their posts, whish wasn’t often). The women appeared to be of noble stock, or whatever passed as nobility among the Vermaini. Having their hands bound only seemed to make them more irate; as the soldiers force-marched them, they struggled, kicked, spat, and cursed in Vermaini.
“None can pass.” Said Trevor. “The general’s orders. None may enter the tent.”
“Step aside, you fool!” Behind him, General Otis was drawn by the commotion. Sizing up the prisoners with his good eye, he nodded. “Why are you bringing these whores way up here, Kline?”
Sergeant Kline saluted sharply. “We caught them near the bridge, sir. By the way they’re dressed, we think they’re spies, mebbe.”
“The older, more robust of the two women spoke up. “No whores! No spies!”
“They don’t speak Coltoni, you fool! General Otis grunted. “Fat lot of good they are to us.”
The younger woman spoke for the first time. “You make mistake, sir. Please. We are no spies.”
“Oh, so they DO speak Coltoni.” General Otis’s tone changed. “And just who in the Ender’s name are you?”
“Please.” She responded. “While the younger woman’s mastery of Coltoni was somewhat better than her companion’s, she still seemed to struggle. “I am Shasay, and my father is Hoolvint, Second Seat of the Great Plains Sodality. She is Dhesay, my… father’s sister. We are no spies. Please give us free.”
“Slim chance.” General Otis responded. “Great Plains Sodality, is it? And we have the daughter of one of the important ones. You’ll make a valuable hostage, lass. I have no reason to release you. Now tell me what you were doing down by the river.”
The older woman let fly a string of invective in her own tongue, ending with “You are pig! We no harm you, no harm bridge. You free now!”
General Otis merely snorted.
She continued. “You pig! My brother… he find you all… his men they cut your kiliki off!”
“More than one has tried, lass. Sergeant Kline, I see that our honored guests are lacking in manners. Why don’t you and your patrol help me in teaching them some?” He turned to Trevor. “What do you say, Corporal? Ever swived with a Vermaini lady before?”
“Sir!” Trevor protested. “There are regulations about prisoners. You can’t do this.”
“There are regulations about prisoners, Corporal, but none such about whores. Kline and his boys are good soldiers, and I’d wager they haven’t had a woman in weeks, so a couple of high-high Vermaini quims will suit them just fine. Are you going to be trouble?”
Trevor considered. What was about to happen to the unfortunate women was bad, nigh unspeakable, but General Otis, as commander of all of the Duke’s armies in the border shires, was no one to cross. As much as it turned his stomach, he held his tongue.
Kline and his men were already prodding the women into the tent at spearpoint. No. As horrible as what was about to happen was, what would happen to him if he defied General Otis was much worse. “No, sir. There won’t be trouble.”
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