I am excited to announce Lion of Zarall’s preorder sales have started. See the list of all the retailers where you can order the book at a discounted price. Lion of Zarall is scheduled to be released on 12th June 2018. Here is a short excerpt from the book.
In this excerpt from Chapter 2, Master Gladwiel is trying to get rid of the Lion of Zarall by selling him to an unsuspecting customer.
“I don’t need any help at my farm,” says a woman. She turns her head to Gladwiel as she speaks, so I get the chance to have a quick glance at her. Young, petite, auburn haired. Dressed in a dark brown travel cloak, a plain green dress, and a long-strapped leather bag. She’s sitting in the chair right in front of Master Gladwiel’s desk. “I need my hundred and fifty Blues,” she insists.
“Look,” says Master Gladwiel, gesturing a hand towards me. “He’s twenty…”
… Except when I try to strangle my owners with my bare hands.
“He’s good looking…”
“Wait until the fight season begins, he’ll be worth at least five hundred Chinderia Blues.”
A big lie. Not anymore.
“Believe me, I don’t want to sell him. I don’t!”
“I’m giving him to you at a loss!”
“Master Gladwiel, you don’t understand,” she interrupts. “I have payments to make. I need my money in cash.”
“Look, honey,” Says Gladwiel, standing up. His voice turns into a loving uncle’s tone, patiently giving advices to his ill-behaved niece. He walks around his desk to stand next to me. “Do you see his tattoo?” He lifts my chin up and turns my head to reveal the tattoo on my neck. “Come, come over here, have a look at it up close.”
Young woman stands up with a sigh and walks over. She crosses her arms, looking up and down at me with a frown. She looks younger than I first thought, not older than eighteen and she smells like herbs. When she steadies her brown eyes on my face, I quickly look away.
Gladwiel pokes his finger on my neck, pointing at the dog-like beast on the tattoo. “Do you see this?” She mumbles an acknowledgement. “This means he is a beast, a trained fighter.”
“I know what a beast tattoo stands for.”
“Do you know what these three lines stand for?” She doesn’t know, waiting for Gladwiel to explain. “Three lines mean he is a purebred. His parents are matched deliberately and he’s been trained to fight in the arena since the day he was born. His kind are the best slaves you could possibly find.”
“Master Gladwiel…” she starts, but Gladwiel doesn’t let her continue.
“Purebreds like him never disobey. Never disrespect. They don’t think, they don’t feel, they don’t even have any rhoa.” She touches four fingers of her right hand on her forehead at the mention of rhoa. Superstitious. Gladwiel doesn’t miss this. “That’s right, they are less than humans, even in the Twelve’s eyes, they are empty shells. That means, they don’t have any human urges, nor desires. They never want anything. Not even their freedom.”
Lie. Blood and tears, that’s a lie.