Love, Service, and Loyalty: Story by Arealius the Scribe

This Gorean Fan Fiction was generated using MetaAI. 

Please note that the Gorean Saga is a fictional series, and its world,

customs, and values may not align with modern societal standards or moral principles.

Gor is Copyrighted by John Norman

Love, Service, and Loyalty

by Arealius, the Scribe

Dedicated to the Kajirae of Gor, the heart and soul of their communities throughout this life. 

 I, Arealius, Scribe of the City, have watched them for many moons. DeZora, Flower, and Hanwi - three kajira, each unique, yet bound by their service to our great city and its citizens.

As I sit at my desk, quill in hand, I gaze out the Scribe Tower window, observing their tireless efforts for our city. DeZora, with her bronze skin and raven tresses, expertly navigates the city's culinary scene, serving delicacies at the Inn and taverns. Flower, the petite ash-blonde, charms patrons with her innocent smile, while Hanwi, the fiery redhead, dances with abandon, mesmerizing audiences.

But it's not just their individual talents that fascinate me. It's the way they move in harmony, a symphony of service. They laugh together, support each other, and share whispers in the common places of Port Olni. Their bond is palpable, forged through shared struggles and triumphs.

Hanwi's administrative skills are renowned, and I've witnessed her pour over documents, ensuring the Kennel's records are impeccable. Her dedication to Lady Sorana, the High Scribe transcribing the minutes of the city's meetings, is unwavering. DeZora and Flower often assist, their hands moving swiftly as they prepare sites for public events.

What strikes me most is their endurance. Day and night, they toil, never faltering. Their commitment to the city is unwavering, even when faced with difficult patrons or demanding tasks.

As a scribe, I've recorded their exploits, but it's their quiet moments that reveal the depth of their characters. A stolen glance, a reassuring touch, or a shared smile - these gestures speak volumes about their unity.

Port Olni is fortunate to have such devoted kajirae. They embody the city's spirit, and their loyalty is a beacon of hope. I've seen them interact with Isnala, the Ambassador, and Lady Aille, his free companion. Hanwi's reverence for her master and mistress is clear, while DeZora's respect and love for her master, Panner, the poet, is heartfelt. Flower, the Earth barbarian, still struggles to find her place, but her companions guide her. Together, they navigate the complexities of Gorean culture, forging an unbreakable bond.

As I set aside my quill, the city's sounds envelop me - laughter, music, and the clang of hammers. DeZora, Flower, and Hanwi are an integral part of this tapestry. Their stories, woven into the fabric of our city, will endure long after my ink fades.

In the silence, I ponder the mysteries of their lives, the unseen moments, and the whispers shared beneath the city's moonlit sky.

As the seasons pass, I've noticed subtle changes in the trio. DeZora's confidence grows, her culinary expertise sought by the city's elite. Flower, once timid, now navigates the city's complexities with ease, her laughter echoing through the marketplaces. Hanwi's fame as a kajira-dancer spreads, her performances mesmerizing audiences.

But beneath their outward success, I sense a deeper connection. They've formed a family, bound by shared experiences and loyalty. Their banter, once cautious, now flows freely, filled with inside jokes and knowing glances.

One evening, as I stroll through the city, I chance upon the trio in a quiet moment. They're seated together, sharing a simple meal and stories. DeZora speaks of her Schendi heritage, her eyes sparkling with nostalgia. Flower listens intently, her ash-blonde hair aglow in the fading light. Hanwi's laughter rings out, infectious and joyful.

In that moment, I realize their bond transcends mere friendship. They've found a sense of home, of belonging, in each other and their city. Their different masters' ownership may define their legal status, but their hearts belong to one another and us all.

As a scribe, I've recorded countless stories, but theirs resonates deeply. Theirs is a tale of resilience, of women forging strength from vulnerability.

The city's sounds fade into the background as I stand there, an unseen observer. The trio's connection reminds me of the Priest-Kings' teachings: that even in bondage, there is freedom; that even in service, there is love.

I retreat into the shadows, leaving them to their intimate moment. My quill awaits, ready to capture the next chapter in their journey. As I return to my desk, a question lingers: What secrets do their whispers hold? What dreams do they share beneath the city's moonlit sky?

Whatever they are, I know that Port Olni and our community will prosper and grow because of them.