Aurelian Flaytus a. f. The stepson of emperor Agustus was born on March 14, 1282, CE
Growing up under the watchful eyes of his stepfather the emperor-The servants of the emperor made sure he was taught everything-From sword fighting to Math, he was taught to be an well-obedient son and servant of the emperor-He was said to have born in Ruthenia-His mother had abandoned him-The place guards found a crying boy under dawn-And that's when he was brought to the capital, Byzantium (Constantinople-Present Istanbul) The emperor was said to have taken mercy at him and to make him remain in his palace and adopted him-As he lacked a son-and was mostly focused on the empire's affairs.
He grew up to be a vigilant son-Women of the capital wanted him-Men wanted to be like him. It didn't help that how his broad shoulders and muscular build made him stand out from other men-And his piercing hazel eyes, and the deep-set eyebrows-Furrowing when he didn't get what he wanted. Unlike other men, Flaytus wasn't fond of the unnecessary attention that seemed to be dragging him-He avoided women like plague and only talked to them when necessary. He-like his father-Was only found of political affairs and didn't really spare time for martial matters. Flaytus grew up to be close to the emperor-As he had shared things that were permissible to be heard by only few of the emperors' confidents.
"His duty was to serve the emperor-Even if that meant to give him his life"
--Now he sat, hand clutching on a fine quill. "Your majesty, Augustus, the campaign had been successful, the win will contribute to the overall benefit to our treasury, and it will pave the way for our next campaign"
He pauses, eyes darting to the window, the girl--her face flashed through him. How she had laid on the cold floor as if lifeless. An unexplainable feeling clung to the young master--though he shook his head.
Nonsense... a murmur, though he would never deny the fact that, she looked...
--Absolutely angelic. Admits the war and the bloodshed, maybe that was the only beautiful thing he saw.
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Author's pov: The men of the ship commanded the women and girls to get in line. As they were at the dock and are now ready to de-boarded. The women didn't utter a word, they one by one began to head out.
Eleanor walked out--her eyes darting to the bright blue sky on top of her as she felt the urge to sigh and smile, threads of her golden lock fluttered furiously against the wind. as she too made her way out. The air tugged at her white veil making it a great difficulty to keep it.
The men who were handling the other women watched her struggle--Their seemed to be glued to her, lips curled smugly--No one stepped in.
Just then--OUT! OUT! OUT! Flaytus's back was turned as he yelled for the remaining women to come out. Then his gaze fell to one of his men--How his eyes seemed to be fixed on something or someone. Flaytus's brows furrowed, he turned to the object of attraction
--What... are you! -His voice fell silent--as he watched Eleanor struggle under their gaze. His clenched-His jaw ticked, he made his way to her.
Eleanor's head seemed to be low, just then a strong pair of arms caught her wrist. Eleanor flinched as she then slowly raised her chin to meet his face--The same young man who had said her name as if that meant something to him. He glanced at her-at how flushed her face was-At how helpless she looked. He then without a word draped her nimble body with his cloak--Their fingers barely grazing.
Thank me later... he murmured. Eleanor watched him go. Her brows held a soft frown; it was the same boy who had saved her.
She inched in and tapped at a woman to her right, "Domina... who is that?"
Who is who? ahh the young master? Eleanor nods* He is Flaytus, son of the emperor. Eleanor's eyes widened as she watched him go.
--The sun seemed to be daunting as the city of Byzantium-Roared with enthusiasm. Music and art--they say, "birthplace of Byzantium"
There they entered the slave market-Just near the dock--Where Unlike the screams of joy-Only the yelling of desperate slaves were imminent. the smell of blood, sweat and fear seemed to be daunting Eleanor and the other women as they glanced at the market-at the terrible condition of the other women and children. Some seemed to be dragged away, and some were sold to Tavernas (Think of it like an ancient night club, a place for entertainment)
The women and girls were soon taken to a stall-- buyers drove to the venders--Their malicious eyes roaming the girls.
Eleanor's face was red with shame, "Thank me later" she swallowed dryly, the sheer audacity of that man, what is there to thank?
After being abducted and now... to be tore opened in the hands of men. The vendor approached her,
"You are sold"
Me... dominus? Eleanor's brows shot up, S-Sold to whom? The man sighed, "Too many questions will not help you... He then gestured her to follow a cart that was to her far front.
She gives him a nod* Eleanor reaches the cart; she stepped in and without a word sat. Inside were girls, all her age.
It was obvious, they were hand-picked. An auburn-haired girl gazed at Eleanor, "Why are you wearing that veil?" she asks, curious, "Or...are you?"
Eleanor nods* then silent fell. The veil symbolizes marriage in Ruthenia. So... how is he? do you know? another girl asks.
To that, Eleanor shakes her head, "w-where are we even being taken to?" The girl's looked at one another.
"We are not sure" a raven-haired girl beside her replies. Seeing Eleanor's eyes fell, "Forgive me, I wish I knew"... she then smiles, "I'm Anastasia" extending her palm.
Eleanor nods, then she took it--"Eleanor petronella" Anastasia smiles,
"Such a pretty name, you are from Šumiac? she asks. Eleanor shakes her head, "close, but to the very north"
To that Anastasia nods--the girl's chatter away--though, soon the cart halt as soldiers ordered for them to get out.
The girls did as they said--one by one, they all hopped off. Eleanor's brows furrowed, it didn't look like the capital, there were no stalls, just tents settled on top of the dry land and large fields which were guarded by iron fences.
She took a few stops--then, she felt another hand. Her eyes flickered to her side, Anastasia clutched at her,
"Eleanor... let's go, we shouldn't wander around unknown charters!" Eleanor's lips curl, she nods to that and lets her drag her.
The girl's made their way to the to the other girls who stood in rows. There in front of them stood a woman, she looked to be only a little older than them. She wore a veil, her attire--typical for a byzantine woman. A white, robe. She crossed her arms, amber eyes searching for the girls' face.
Behind her stood two more women--she gives them a subtle gesture as they began to search the girls. Their hands moved precisely, parting the hair that clung at their faces.
Then--a maiden reached for Eleanor, seeing the veil on her, her brows furrowed, she then extended her arms. Eleanor shakes her head,
"What are you doing? L-Leave me...!" The head mistress hearing the ruckus-quickly made her way to Eleanor. She ushers the maid to move then gives Eleanor a glare that told her to behave.
She then grasped her arms, "You! Impudent girl! you are not a free woman, so veiling is forbidden" Eleanor's voice falters as Anastasia vouches for her, "Domina, she is..." Eleanor shot her a look, "Don't"...
The head mistress turns to Anastasia, "Worry about yourself" she says through gritted teeth which mad her shut up.
Eleanor drops her head; it was clear that she could not wear her veil nor will the headmistress bend to any of her request.
"When I visit you again, I must not see the veil" Eleanor gives her a look, she saw the mistress's eyes, how they softened at least just a bit.
The maids left the girls alone--at least for now...
To be continued>>>>>>>>>>