I am Jolaintrimoeca, the head slave.

The first I was, to beg for master's help when He appeared, there, in the pits of hell, like an angel, with an offer to serve Him.

That day, I remember. Yesteday, as if it were. Many of them, my fellow prisoners refused the trickster, refused to be tricked, calling it a play by those who dominate over us.

If it is true, so be it, is what I thought at their words. Even if my now master had been a trickster then, what had I to lose? I had already lost everything, save my life. If I lost that too, happier I would be.

But those of us who clung to that faint hope, forever, had our lives changed. Never had we imagined in our wildest dreams, what our now master would have us to do then.

It wasn't just freedom, it was revenge, as well as insurance of the future. That was what the master gave us. He asked us to steal everything from the Royal Vault.

Never in my life had I seen so much gold, but at the time I wasn't overcome by greed but by fear. Fear of the man who had led us there. Fear of the strange magic he practiced. Fear of what would happen should we cross him.

He was the man who we would proudly call our master.

It has been more than two years since then and the ones who were left, were not even half of what we made out with. Few succumbed to illnesses untreatable even with bags of gold to offer but most were slayed by our own hands. It is those of us left that did it. The ones killed by us were those who were overcome by greed, greed over what they saw that fateful day.

It was a single type of man that I could never forgive: that none of us would forgive. And that was one who tries to decieve master.

An existence to us that can downplay a god, such was our master.

And I was the head slave. Neither the 'head', nor the 'slave' part was ever uttered by our master. It was only something we, ourselves decided. We now lived in a mansion, which we cared for as maids and butlers, with the 54 of us. Of the original 79 that ran from the prison, only 22 of us were left. The rest were slaves later purchased. Later purchased, these slaves were those, that caught our eye. A small wolf girl, was where it all started. Reminded we were, of ourselves, seeing her sorry state and the matter was taken to the master with great hesitance. Even though we were scared, afraid of the consequences of such selfishness, we believed the master to save the poor child. And as expected, without a moment's hesitance, master agreed. It has been the same ever since. Everytime we would see a demihuman maltreated, he would be bought by our master right after we would express our desire to rescue one of our brethren.

Grateful to our master they are, even the slaves that are bought. The treatment in the mansion is akin to heaven, as every need is easily taken care of the lots of us, together by each of us, for all of us.

A side business, start we did as well, nothing to which the master showed any sort of disagreement. There were too many to take care of the mansion even though it was huge. Thus, production of miscellaneous items, is what we did. The income from selling the said products is something we saved together in hope to save another comrade.

Not that master would ever disagree, but we, as his slaves, wanted to do our best.

The master is now hardly ever home. Travelling, he says he does, should I ever show concerns. No one has ever seen him go past the mansion gates so the new ones talk. It is only us, the originals, that withhold the secret, something to the grave, we intend to take.

Lastly I must speak, of the times I've tried to please the master, my body, which is to say, I offered. Each time the master would gain a distant look, the substance of which, I could never detain. Thereafter he would say something about STDs, but once more, fathom I could not, the implications of such words. And never will I, presumably. For comprehending a man of such power is neither the right nor the competence held, in any.