I’m brought into a room with high, vaulted ceilings, covered in ornate paintings showing teal men–though these are hornless–in white robes. Some of them are holding strange, glowing machines, others are holding each other, and others are killing each other.

“Look down,” Titus hisses at me. “At the floor!”

I look away from the ceiling, but then I notice very far in the distance, a gleaming throne, with floating lamps on either side. There is a purple carpet in front of us, and it leads to the throne, up a dozen or so widely spaced steps.

“Down!” Titus says, grabbing my arm.

I look down now, at the carpet and at my feet. I count the paces as we walk forward. We travel thirty or so steps before we reach one of the steps, which Titus scales easily, but which I can barely clear without climbing.

It feels like it takes ages, and I’m soon out of breath, but finally a booming voice shouts. “Stop!”

Before I can even stop, Titus grabs me and hold me still.

“Magistros Vesuvius Archinaidus Maxillius,” the voice booms, “Will now receive you! Bow down, and then you may face him.”

I watch Titus, not sure what kind of bow they want.

Titus lowers himself onto one knee, then presses his chin into his chest. I copy him, and I wait until he stands to stand myself.

I look up and see the Magistros seated on his throne. He’s wearing a purple robe, but his horns are only half the size of Titus’.

He leans forward, and his eyes widen when I look up at him.

“What’s this?” he asks.

There’s an armored guard on either side of him holding a gun. I notice they are not wearing masks, nor the severed balls of eunuchs.

The eunuch is just behind us, and he’s smiling wide at the Magistros’ reaction to me.

The Magistros stands from his throne and takes several steps toward me. I notice then that the two guards, who were standing still as statues, begin fidgeting, almost trembling.

“What is this smell?” The Magistros says, coming closer to me. “Is it coming from this divine barbarian?”

He’s calling me a barbarian, that must mean he’s speaking his own language. It must just mean “alien” or “outsider,” I realize. The original meaning of the word.

I look down rather than meeting his eyes.

“No, no,” he says, “Look up. Let me see those strange eyes.”

I look at up at him, trying to look defiant more than demure. Despite everything Titus told me, I don’t want this man to want me. I don’t want to be owned by someone. I’d rather be miserable and free than a pampered slave.

As I look up at him, I notice that he is noticeably smaller than Titus. His muscles are not as pronounced, and his shoulders are much less broad. He’s still larger than most men on Earth, but not by much. His face would be attractive, but his violet eyes dart around wildly, and his smile makes me uneasy.

His nostrils flare and he sniffs loudly. Soon he’s on me.

I feel my skin crawl as he grabs me. I want to curl up into a ball and die as he pulls me against him. I feel his face and nose press against the nape of my neck, and I feel his drool drip onto my skin as he inhales me deeply, snorting as if he were doing a line of cocaine off of my body rather than just smelling me.

“Yes!” he shrieks. “It’s exceptional! Who brings this glorious gift to me?”

Titus clears his throat. “The Emperor himself.”

“Ah!” the Magistros says, his voice changing pitch several times within the same syllable. “I don’t know how I can repay him for such a fine thing. What world is it from? Earth? Is this an Earth woman? I’d heard only rumors! I’d not believed them!”

The Magistros has pulled away from my neck, but he reaches down to my lower thighs, then gropes his way all up my body. I tremble as he does it. I always thought that in this kind of situation, I would fight back. I wouldn’t take it. But I’m frozen by fear, and I feel tears welling in my eyes as I tremble.

There’s a low growl from Titus as the Magistros touches me, but Titus doesn’t move.

“Yes,” the Eunuch says. “She is a woman from Earth. Close to her prime age.”

The eunuch gestures toward me.

“Yes…” The Magistros says. “I see it. It’s wondrous. My spear is hard already.”

The eunuch clears his throat and points back toward the throne. The Magistros seems to struggle to tear his eyes from me, and when he finally does I feel intense relief.

He looks back to see his two guards shaking violently.

“This one,” the eunuch says, slapping Titus on the shoulders, “And the rest of the uncut males in your household, are wearing masks. Do you see why, master?”

The guards struggle to hold themselves still.

The Magistros cocks his head at them. “Do you like what you smell?”

They snap to attention, but they both shake uncontrollably even as they straighten their bodies.

“I see…” the Magistros says. “Their spears are hard as mine. They cannot resist the temptation, just as I cannot. These are two of my most loyal guards, yet even they cannot resist such temptation.”

I turn toward Titus, and I look up at him with pleading eyes full of tears. “I can’t do this. You have to save me.”

He looks at me for the briefest moment, just long enough to give me a look urging me to shut up. To be quiet. To take whatever will happen to me in stride.

I want to kill him for giving me false hope. Here I thought he’d keep me safe, or at least watch over me. Now I realize he’s powerless before this mad king. He’ll bow and scrape and do whatever is asked of him. He “does jobs for money,” and I am just another job to him.

“You’ll betray me then?” I hear the Magistros shriek at the guards.

I look up to see the two guards eye each other, then me. Their nostrils flare as they look at me.

“Speak!” The Magistros shouts.

“Yes,” one says. “The urge is too great. My spear is too hard. I would betray you, Master of Masters.”

“Then kill yourselves,” the Magistros says, his voice perfectly level now.

“Master?” the other asks.

The Magistros looks at them like they are idiots. “Can you or can you not control yourselves? Will you respect my property and keep your eyes off her? Or will you lust for her, even if you wear these masks?”

The eunuch clears his throat. “The Emperor told us, master, that it’s impossible. All must wear masks. All who remove their mask must be killed. It’s the only way.”

“Then kill yourselves,” the Magistros says. “That’s an order.”

The guards lean down and place their guns on the floor. Each reaches into a holster on their thigh and removes a long object about the size of a baton. In unison, each baton extends out to four or five times its original length, ending in the sharp tip of a spear.

“Now,” the Magistros says, laughing hysterically, “Your spears are truly hard! Your skullspears!”

I see each guard press the tip of their spear toward their throat and lean over it, when I see their muscles tense up–and when I realize they are actually going to kill themselves–I close my eyes and cover them with my hands.

I don’t see it happen, but I hear it. It’s somehow worse to only hear that horrible sound, but I still don’t open my eyes. I just hear the gurgling sound of death, and the Magistros’ high-pitched cackling, which makes it all so much worse.