Chapter 4.

Interlude to a bigger picture.

"Do you know what trousers are supposed to go with this shirt?"

No answer.

"Dilandau? Are you even listening to me? DILANDAU!"

Dilandau, who had previously been staring out of the room in Van's room with a wistful expression, jerked to attention, spinning around to face Van. Seeing the angry on his face and the hands on the hips, Dilandau dropped his gaze to the floor, clasping his hands behind his back, adopting a submissive pose befitting one of his station. Nothing more that a slave, minus the brand. Yet.

" I..I..I apologise Lord Van… I.."

No other word passed Dilandau's lips as he was struck forcibly across the face, his wild silver hair covering one side of his face, splitting a lip, and leaving a heavy handprint in its wake.

"Listen here Dilandau," Van hissed, stalking towards him, forcing Dilandau to take a step back, trapping himself between the hard cold stone wall and the angry wrath of Van.

"You are my slave, all but marked. You do as I say, when I say. You stand to attention, when I talk to you. You don't look at me in the eye, and you certainly don't think that I will ever, ever let you go! Got it! You. Are . Mine . Got it?"

"Yes, Lord Van. I understand. It wont happen again." Dilandau ducked his head, hiding the pain he felt at being degraded so badly. This was not what he was supposed to be doing! he was supposed to be razering villages to the ground with his team of dragon slayers, but all that was over. He was nothing but a pathetic slave, running to do every whim for that insufferable half breed Van.

The worst was yet to come.