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King Delerion giving orders to Jamal
Deep within Delerion's palace, the air was filled with a mystical green that filtered through the Gothic windows. The high walls were adorned with arcane symbols and glowed faintly with the reflection of the magical lights that floated about the room. Delerion stood tall, wrapped in his dark velvet cloak with purple edges that rippled as if alive. In his right hand, he held a staff adorned with a spherical green jewel, from which emanated unmatched power. In front of him stood Jamal, the imposing, newly hypnotized servant who remained motionless, his muscles tense, but his eyes empty and obedient.
The servant, a burly man with dark skin and enormous strength, had been subdued by the sorcerer's power only a few hours ago. He no longer had a will of his own; his mind was completely subject to Delerion's whims. Despite his intimidating appearance, he was reduced to a puppet, unable to think for himself, only awaiting the commands of his new master.
Delerion watched him with satisfaction. He approached, his leather boots clicking softly on the marble floor. He raised his staff, letting the green light reflect off his slave’s expressionless face. He had perfected the art of magical domination, and each servant under his command was living proof of his mastery.
“You have proven yourself a more than suitable subject,” Delerion said, his voice silky and condescending. “Your manhood and muscles are ideal for the games I have in mind for you and the other servants. But…” his smile widened dangerously, “your unwavering loyalty is what satisfies me most.”
The servant, whose muscles tensed with each word from his master, remained attentive to his master’s words.
“I am at your service, my lord,” he said in a deep, but emotionless voice.
Delerion walked in circles around him, like a predator stalking its prey.
“I will soon need you to carry out a task that your companions are doing very well,” the sorcerer whispered. “You are to help me recruit attractive, manly men. Friends, family, whatever, but bring them to me.”
The servant did not blink. He did not question. He simply waited for the next instructions, like an automaton waiting to be activated.
“I will do as you command, master,” he replied.
Delerion smiled, satisfied with the absolute submission of his new acquisition.
“Perfect,” he said as he raised his staff and placed it in front of his servant’s chest. “Now, remember well, if anyone stands in your way, you will not hesitate. Nothing can be an obstacle.” For you, my dear servant, are the extension of my will.
The green light of the staff glowed brighter, as if reaffirming the magical connection between master and slave. Delerion knew that with his army of servants under his control, his dominion would be absolute. And this man, with his strength and blind obedience, was but a piece on his vast chessboard of power.
The sorcerer let out a soft, dark laugh as he retreated to his throne, leaving the servant to await his next command. In this palace shrouded in shadows and magic, everything seemed to conspire to extend Delerion's control over men.