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Slave Warrior Chapter 8

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The beginning is in Chapter one of The Slave Warrior.  Please consider Tribute or a subscription to the Web Mistress' OnlyFans page to keep her in Chocolate

The progression that left for the Grand Stage of the Festival was large.  The King and his nobles were on horses draped in the King’s bright green.  Lady Laun and her people were much more motley, but the dark green of the Salam-Dir household was visible on all who rode alongside the carriage Laun was in.  The chair and staves that had provided transport for Laun to the carriage had been strapped to the back of the cab, held partially in place by the footman.

The 30 or so people who drew up to the Grand Stage created more space around the King and Lady Laun than normally would have been done.  They all had been somewhat briefed on the possible attempt on their lives, and to look out for Bregnan.  Only seven people mounted the stairs to the main level of the Grand Stage from the group.  The rest reassembled just a little away from the crowds that had gathered to see the closing ceremonies and entertainment from the host.

Falmir himself had not arrived, yet.  Some of his household were at the stage, that almost impenetrable wall of dark blue and grey servants that seemed to just always be impassively watching.  There were a few benches on the stage, one of which Laun and Disa sat on after Laun had slowly, but gracefully, climbed the stairs to the stage with the help of the King himself and one of the staves.  Geralk took up a position behind the women and started to scan the crowd.  One of the impassive servants blinked and looked slightly confused for a moment before his face became unreadable again.

The crowd was getting restless.  They could see people on the Grand Stage, but nothing was happening but the nobles talking amongst themselves.

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