The Thief and his Willow

The Thief and his Willow

Before the story continues, I want to say that I do plan on continuing this story as long as you, the readers, are enjoying it and wanting more. I plan to write this entire story, already having the entire thing in my head. Enjoy!

Chapter One: A Thief’s Fate

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The city of Amtine blew cool air one bustling night, with the arrival of many new slaves for the Dark Lord Zorc. A line of many beautiful women, all standing with their heads bowed, their shoulders slumped. All wore different clothing, many beautiful long gowns or robes showing off their chubby to bony thighs and curves. But each woman wore beautiful silk cloth provided for them to make quite an appearance when they’d face their new owner.

No woman was to see him wearing rags over their bodies, nor dirt on their faces. They were to be properly freshened and polished. What perfect pets.

And the man in charge of making sure each and every woman was perfect -- Bakura. He stood there, examining each woman thoroughly, only nodding his head at the ones fit on giving the ‘Master’ a visit in his chambers.

A man stood behind Bakura, leaning with crossed arms against a cold, dark wall. He was the slave trader, a gruesome man with missing teeth. But Bakura was used to seeing the bastard’s smutty face, forced to see it once a week. But Bakura has seen far worse.

The man grew impatient with Bakura’s pacing. “Well?”

Bakura stops pacing. He turns to the man, sneering at him. He turns back to the ladies, eyeing each again, wanting to make sure he did a perfect job. Though, he always did.

He was still alive. That was proof enough.

“You’ve done a fine job this time,” Bakura said. He steps up to a short brunette. “You, what’s your name?”

The young lady looks up at Bakura in shock. Slaves were not allowed to speak to anyone but their masters. But when her slave trader nods her his approval, she gently answers. “M--Mallie.”

“Mallie?” Bakura lifts her head, staring deep into her dark, purple eyes. “Aren’t you a bit young to be a slave? How old are you?”

“I--I am fifteen, sir.”

“Fifteen?”

Bakura growls. He turns to the slave trader, his eyes shrinking in disgust. “Fifteen?”

And the slave trader shrugs. “I don’t ask for ages. If they’re cute and well-equipped, I accept.”

Grumbling under his breath, Bakura takes Mallie by her arm, forcing her to sit at the ground beside him. “She’s too young. I’ll take her, but not as Zorc’s sex slave. She’ll work in the kitchens.” And Bakura could hear Mallie’s soft ‘thank you’ escape her breath. He only snorted, continuing his job.

He walks over to a lovely blonde next. Her skin was pale white, and she had beautiful gray eyes. “You, how old are you?”

She answers him. She’s twenty. Bakura nods. “She’ll do. I’ll also take that redhead and the one with the very long hair. The rest can go.”

The slave trader rubs his hands greedily together. “Tell your Lord that it’s always a pleasure doing business with him.”

“Whatever,” Bakura grumbles. He pays the slave trader fully before forcing the slaves he purchased to follow him.

--

Barker’s Bar was nearly empty that night.

Good.

Bakura needed a long break. The day had been overly long, it seemed. Very busy. Again, his Master, Zorc, was pleased with the new arrivals, thanking Bakura for his excellent service. And every time, Bakura would bow his head before being excused for the remainder of the day, until the next.

And after every day finished, Bakura was always in desperate need of alcohol. Drowning his sorrows in sake would brighten his mood.

He hated his life.

Once, he had been the best thief known to man. Man had feared him. He used to work alone, depending on his quick and cunning skills to get him out of sticky situations. He never got caught. That is, until he decided one day to try stealing Lord Zorc’s valuables. Bakura had heard of the Dark Lord through many individual citizens, even though no man has ever seen Zorc’s face.

Many women have, but no men.

Bakura was the first. He regretted it. Now, he served Zorc as Zorc’s official slave attendant. Yes, Bakura chose Zorc’s slaves. What joy! Bakura once had a heart made of black, but after taking this job, he knew he felt sorry for most of the slave women, especially those of a younger generation. He knew he could not protect them all. The young Mallie got off lucky: one of thousands. Bakura tried not to think of what his mighty ‘Master’ did to most of the girls. He knew his master could not fuck them. He was a giant -- he’d split a girl in two if he dared go between one’s legs.

At least that’d never happen to them.

Sitting at the bar, Bakura is greeted by Barker, the bar’s owner. He was wiping a glass clean when he notices Bakura’s gloomy form, slumping tiredly over the counter. “The usual?”

“Yes,” Bakura nods. “But double it.”

“Rough day, I take it?”

Bakura sighs. He brushes back his wild white hair, revealing tired violet-grey eyes. “Every day is rough.”

Barker sets a double glass of sake in front of Bakura, watching Bakura swipe the glass and clean it in one gulp.

“Another,” Bakura tosses Barker the glass. Barker satisfies, filling Bakura’s glass near full with more of the strong sake beverage.

Setting the drink in front of Bakura, Barker’s eyes lift to the ringing bell, indicating another customer. His eyes locked onto three men, two standing like bodyguards around the one man standing in the middle. He had dark jet hair, falling smooth to his shoulders. And his eyes, dark as night. His skin nearly as dark and tan as Bakura’s own.

“Don’t look now,” Barker whispers. “But here comes your favorite person.”

Turning his head, Bakura sneers at the man he’s learned to distaste. And when the man spots him, Bakura moves his attention down on his half-empty glass.

Barker shakes his head. “Told you not to look.”

Bakura rolls his eyes at Barker’s remark, wishing to just shoot himself at the sound of his worst enemy’s oncoming footsteps.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Bakura,” snickers the man as he leans against the bar counter. “How’s business, ol’ Thief King.”

“What do you want, Jalal?” Bakura asks, obviously allowing the temper in his tone to shine.

Jalal snickers in his throat. “Just giving you a greeting. Is that so terrible?”

‘Yes, now get the fuck away from me!’ Of course, Bakura never shouted anything rational to Jalal, for Jalal was one of the top slave traders in all of Kumal, banking and selling millions of slaves from all three cities. And he sold most of his slaves to Zorc, making him one of Zorc’s finest tradesmen, even if the two have never met eye to eye. Bakura knew if he dare insult or ruin Jalal’s reputation with Zorc, Zorc would be very, very pissed.

Barker, noticing Bakura’s agitated frown, decides to lean Jalal on to a new topic. “Are you just going to sit in my bar for no reason, or do you plan on ordering something?”

Jalal sits beside Bakura, and his two bodyguard buddies sit, as well. One takes a seat next to Jalal, the shorter with wild orange hair and hazel eyes. The other, a large, dark man with brown eyes, takes a seat beside Bakura. Jalal smiles at Barker. “I think I’ll have what my good friend, Bakura, is having.”

“Fine.” Barker nods and gets Jalal’s order. His two ‘buddies’ each ordering stronger drinks, ones not even Bakura could handle.

Chugging his drink, Jalal sets his glass down before looking back at Bakura. Bakura felt trapped, like a mouse surrounded by three starving cats. Irritated, Bakura moans a “What?” as he stomps his fist into the bar counter. Jalal’s eyes grow fiercer, glowing dangerously at Bakura. He sneers, ordering Barker to get him another drink.

“I have new slaves coming in tomorrow,” Jalal said. “As you already know. But my question I want to ask you, is the chance if I could possibly…”

“You already know that Zorc sees no one besides me and his slaves,” answers Bakura. He turns, smirking at Jalal. “He’ll never see you, so get over it.”

It is true. For a long few years, Jalal has been on the desperate urge of discovering Zorc’s identity. Yes, Jalal has seen the faces of many Lords, including Basat, a very large, ugly Lord with a taste for largely made bowls of fresh greens: a vegetarian Lord. But Zorc, Zorc, as all new, was something special. But Jalal was not letting out more than he craved, for in truth, Jalal was an extremely evil man.

He has always wanted to be immortal, Jalal. He has dreamed it, dreamed of ruling and being best of the best. And he wanted Zorc’s job, for Zorc was the best.

Snorting, Jalal stands to his feet, throwing down a few coins before storming out. His two men following close behind.

Barker shakes his head, gathering the coins, a few short, that Jalal had left for him. “That man never learns.”

Smirking, Bakura takes down one final glass before paying Barker full pay. “And he never will. See you tomorrow.”

-Chapter One End-

Do not worry, folks. The excitement and romance is coming! I know this started out slow, but I wanted to introduce Bakura well, and Jalal also. Stay tuned for chapter two!