“Message for you m’lady.” The butler said, giving a slight bow as he extended the silver tray, upon which sat an envelope.

Duchess Sophia Reathom took the envelope, pausing only to note the seal on the back marking it as having come from the Kaldeshi Ambassador before tearing open the envelope and unfolding the letter inside. Her bright green eyes scanned across the sheet of parchment for a moment. As it worked its way through the flowering diplomatic language, all laid out in a perfect scribe’s hand, she gave an exasperated sigh.

“It seems the Kaldeshi have also declined my request for asylum.” She said, glumly, tossing the letter onto the ornate mahogony table, on which several other letters sat, bearing the seals of the ambassadors of Triesall, Jorfa, Hedam and Mokar.

“What about the Iathen Consulate?” She said, snatching up parchment and quill. “They’d surely be receptive to a request? I mean, they probably wouldn’t turn it down… after all it’s been years since that incident with the trade delegation from Kush. They’d surely have forgotten.”  

“Might I remind M’lady that the Iathen Consulate is on the other side of the city and it will take some time for a messanger to get there and back…” The Duchess’ butler replied in the soft but firm tone he often adopted when delivering an unpleasant truth to his social betters. “And I do not think the mob outside will wait that long…” Through the open window in the next room, they could hear the muffled, but very angry murmuring of a vast crowd of people. It had been gathering all morning. It wouldn’t be long before they started testing how sturdy the gates really were…

“What would you have me do? All of the other Consulates have refused my request for Asylum.” She paused, thinking, “Well, all except one...but the terms they requested are completely unacceptable! It is beneath the dignity of my rank and title! I won’t do it!” She was interrupted by a crash from outside, in the direction of the front gates of the estate. From the sound of things, the gate had held, this time, but the crowd’s growing enthusiasm said that would not be the case for long. Already there were shouts from people to fetch something sturdy and heavy to use as a battering ram.

“Oh very well. I suppose I have no choice…” She said with a long sigh. “Send a messenger to the ‘esteemed’ representative of the Rebach Sultanate telling him I accept his proposal and get a sedan chair down to the... “ She listened to the sounds of the crowd outside. “Western garden gate to meet me there.” She thought a second longer. “Oh and fetch that costume I wore to Lady Unethi’s Masquarade. If I’m really doing this, I suppose I may as well look the part…”  

An hour later, a sedan chair borne by a pair of slaves stopped in front of the gates of the Rebach embassy. As they set it down, the curtain was pulled aside and Duchess Reathom stepped out. She’d wrapped herself in a grey cloak that covered her from head to toe. As she approached the gate and the robed guard, she pulled back part of the cloak to reveal her face. “I’m expected.” She told the guard who nodded, opening the gate. She was quickly ushered inside the embassy and into the entrance hall, where the Ambassador was waiting for her; fat, red faced and an eager expression on his face.

“I am so sorry to hear of your troubles, Duchess…” He began with an insincere expression.

“Spare me.” She replied, irksomely. “I am ready to accept the terms your Sultan has given me.”

“Then on behalf of his esteemed majesty, I hereby offer the Duchess Sophia Reatham asylum within the Kingdom of Rebach.” The Ambassador replied with a leering grin.

With a sigh, Sophia threw off her cloak and she had the momentary pleasure of taking the Ambassador by surprise. “If I must resign myself to the Sultan’s harem, I’d better make the best of it, yes?” She said with a wry grin. She was certainly dressed for it. Her costume consisted, principally of a pair of baggy pants and a vest-top, both made of blue silk of material so sheer her lithe, curvy body was clearly outlined.

Mindful that, even now, the mob would be breaking down the gate of her mansion, she’s loaded up as much of her jewels as she could and the glint of gold glittered across most of her otherwise bared body: armbands, necklaces, bangles and earrings, all set with different previous stone.  

“You’re certainly dressed for it, yes.” The Ambassador replied. “But for one thing…” He turned to a table, on which a fine mahogany case stood. “Some more jewelry, to go with what you brought with you.” Sophia sighed as he opened the box, revealing an engraved, gilded slave collar. It closed snugly around her neck with a click as it locked shut. A pair of gilded shackles also appeared in his hands and were just as quickly locked around her

“Just a precaution, in case you started to have second thoughts, my dear.” He teased. “There’s a boat waiting down by the docks ready to carry you off to the harem and your asylum.”