Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 110600 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 553(@200wpm)___ 442(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110600 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 553(@200wpm)___ 442(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
Or how much wine I drink. I take another sip, just because.
The whole “move forward as a couple” thing seems to do the trick, though. Nassakth nods. “Very well. Let us speak of my past.”
And he takes another huge gulp of wine to bolster himself.
21
NASSAKTH
I hate that I must tell Kim my past. I wanted to protect her from it, to parcel it out in small dribbles so it does not seem quite so…bloodthirsty. Humans are different than most races in the galaxy, I know. They do not have battles to the death. They do not encourage slavery as a way to toughen the race and cull the weak. I do not know if she will understand where I come from.
But I must try to explain it anyhow.
I take a large swig of the expensive wine and begin. “My parents come from a very poor sector of Praxii, with no family name or battle honors to distinguish them. I am the third son, and small as a youth, so when I came of age at fifteen, I was honorably sold into slavery.”
Kim sputters and chokes on her wine. She coughs into her hand, then gives me an incredulous look. “You what? Your parents sold you?”
I nod. “It is an honored tradition amongst the praxiian race. A first son is for the glory of the family name…which we did not have. A second son is for the military so he can bring honor to his people. And a third son is usually sold away. Third sons are not needed. They are just another mouth to feed, and as a smaller boy, I was considered unworthy…so slavery it was.” I shrug. I have no bitterness over it. That is how it is in praxiian culture.
Kim gapes at me. “That is awful. Just because you were small?”
“Many reasons. The credits given to my family feed my brothers and sisters, my parents, and any aunts and uncles with no young of their own. And if I died in slavery, then it is considered beneficial for our race to have the weakest culled. If I fought and grew famous, then I would bring honor to my family and much wealth. It is a situation where all sides win.”
“All sides win except you!” She’s incredulous. “They just ABANDONED you.”
“In their eyes, I was not worth keeping.” Perhaps I am a little bitter about it. “I was sold to a slavemaster on Askorthi Prime who made it his goal to bulk me up. I had height, but not much more, so I trained for several years under him and some of the most brutal fighters, learning speed and agility as well as how to fight. Even so, I knew I would not be successful unless I had a way to stand out. Amongst praxiians, I am not an imposing figure, and gladiator arenas have a short attention span for their favorites. So I knew I needed something that would make me stand out.”
Kim’s eyes are huge as she watches me. “What did you do?”
I take another gulp of wine. “In my first fight, I ripped out the throat of my opponent with my teeth and then dismembered him and flung the parts into the audience.”
Her jaw drops.
“He was not a good man. He was an older fighter, and a cruel one. I had heard stories of things he had done to other fighters in the stable in the past, but it does not excuse what I did.” I shrug. “The audience loved it, so I built a career upon brutality. I became very famous and my owner became wealthy because of me.” I stare at my wine goblet. “That is why I did not wish for you to look at the matches in my War Room. I am proud of them, but I think they would be terrifying for someone as gentle as you.”
“Oh.”
She says nothing else, and I feel as if I am frightening her, so I sum the rest of it up quickly. “I was a slave in my master’s pen for many, many years. He did not share his wealth with me as most do, and I watched him put down many of his slaves as they aged out instead of setting them free. It was cheaper that way, you see. So I worried it would be my turn soon…”
Do I tell her that I killed him? Choked the life out of him and took great pleasure in doing so to the man that treated me as less than a pet canine for all my life? Who stole any winnings I might have used to buy my freedom and gave me nothing but a plant?
I take the coward’s way out and lie to her. “Luckily for me he died. I stole a large chunk of his wealth and retreated to this world, and have been here for…” I tilt my head. “Seven years.”