Melay laid on the bare floor, leaning against the center tentpole. He was grateful for it, the tentpole. The General had specifically made sure there was no carpeting on this spot, next to the tentpole, so he could be allowed to rest there and have something to lean against while sleeping. The narrow pole pressed painfully into his upper ribs, but it was better than lying flat on the floor, a mode of sleeping that would have required a level of relaxation he could hardly dream of.
He’d almost managed to go to sleep when the alarm sounded through the camp.
The General was on his feet in a flash, and it took Melay a moment to realize he himself had startled to his feet as well. From the look the General threw him, he knew he’d be in trouble for it later — he hadn’t been ordered to get up and this was outside his pre-arranged duties. He hated his flighty legs for betraying him like that; he’d managed almost two weeks without a beating.
Without further orders, he stayed stood in place while the General stormed out at a canter.
The General's threatening look had distracted him, for a moment, from the implications of the alarm. But along with the sounds of fighting, a new fear crept up on him. What was happening? Who would attack an army encampment - here, so far from the border? What would they do to him, when an honourable general was already treating him like this?
He flinched again when someone burst into the tent - two other centaurs, armoured, but not uniformed. He forced himself still as they too stopped, clearly surprised to find him.
»A slave, look.« The one in the back pointed at his branded haunch, snorted.
The other lost no time. »The big man got any plans or maps lying around?« she barked at him.
He hesitated, not because he had it in him to refuse obedience, but because he wasn't supposed to speak. »A good slave is seen, not heard,« the General had repeated at him, in the beginning, beating after beating after beating, until it stuck.
»Listen up, you're ours now. Answer your masters.«
He pointed an outstretched arm at the chest that contained the General's papers, trembling.
»There we go, good boy.«
Good boy? Since when did slaves get praise?
The two — bandits, they must be bandits — broke the lock with a few forceful blows of the first one's sword pommel, forcing him to suppress another series of flinches, looked into the chest, then, satisfied he'd told the truth, grabbed a hold of its handles, one on each side.
»What about the gelding?« The one who'd stayed back nodded in his direction.
»Part of the spoils, isn't he?« Her helmet concealed her expression, but there was a grin in her voice. »Come along, slave.«
They led him to the centre of the camp, where the bandits were already gathering, bringing in what valuables they'd found. It was a large band, as was to be expected from a group bold enough to attack the royal army. Soldiers — those who had survived — were being rounded up at sword-point, until their arms were bound and legs hobbled.
The General was one of them, and the fury on his face was enough to freeze Melay's heart in his chest. But he couldn’t hurt him now. What was worse was the attention he was drawing from the bandits.
»A gelding? How cute.«
»He's a pretty one, too.«
»Do we get to fuck him, boss? Pretty please?«
»One thing after another.« It was the mare right next to him who answered, the one who had come into the General’s tent first. »We’re going to set up for the rest of the night, ready to move at daybreak. Loot gets divvied up at home, y’all know what happens if you hold something back. Come on, let’s go.«
Melay hadn’t been given any fresh orders, so he followed the bandit commander as she approached the General while everyone else went about whatever work needed done, against his every instinct. She dropped the chest in front of him.
»We’ll figure out what all of this is about, so care to help us out? Might make your captivity a little more pleasant-«
»I am not a traitor,« the General hissed. »Why don’t you ask that useless little whore? Not surprised he follows you around mere moments after his master’s capture.«
The commander looked around, evidently surprised to find him still right behind her, which meant he’d fucked up, despite doing exactly as he was told. He cast his eyes down. It was easier anyway.
»Huh, I could. Would I find out anything from him?«
Melay’s heart skipped another beat. He didn’t know anthing about the military goings-on, but there would be no way of convincing his new mistress of that.
Even if he was allowed to talk.
He’d never been more relieved to hear the General’s derisive snort. »He barely knows how to darn a sock. Worthless thing.«
»You can go, then. Stay in the camp, I mean. We’ll get to you.«
He stumbled to the campfire the bandits were restocking, his legs trembling with fear. We’ll get to you.
It would probably be best for him to lay down and get what rest he could, but he found himself far too anxious.
