She was a bit nervous as she narrated them to me. I stayed silent, just listening. Not that I suspected any of these, they were all new to me. I did know there was a compromise somewhere but I didn't know it would be this bad. They almost had me. No way she is alone in this, but I don't trust to ask her the necessary questions. Based on what she said, the witchcraft didn't make her turn her back on me, she just wanted me dead because she feared she might have done somethings while under. I can understand why she wouldn't want to kill herself, but why didn't they use her when she was under? They can't? Or they don't trust what she's capable of? Is she under now?
"When was the last time they took control?" I asked.
"It's been days" she answered.
I can't lose her. I really can't. But what good is she to me if she isn't mine?
"Leave" I told Ophelia, and the moment the door shut close, I turned back to the barbarian. "Strip"
She hesitated—confused, defiant— but then her fingers worked. One by one she unbuckled them, weathered leather straps falling away to the floor with a dull clatter, pooling at her feet. She was before me completely naked. My eyes unconsciously went to the thick bush between her legs. Unless she is really small I don't think she has a penis. My eyes went up to her breasts. If I hadn't been spoiled I would have considered them big. They were rather firm, as to be expected, I guess.
"Go lie down on the bed"
She looked at me. It was like been stared down by a bear, but her big legs began to move like there was nothing wrong. They showed no reluctance or disturbance as they approached the bed.
I was leaning against my new desk in the temporal room. Risks are nothing new to me, but this one seemed more daring. She would be able to snap me in half before even the doors open, but it has to be done.
She settled onto the bed, lying flat on her back, eyes fixed on the ceiling.
I hate that the room was tensed. That wasn't the feeling I wanted passed across, and so I waited a few moments before taking my clothes off.
I wasn't excited but there's always a vial of Helene's potion in my drawers. With mother having been gone for awhile there was more than enough.
I took one and gulped it down, and in seconds my penis became engorged and covered with heavy veins. I felt the need to take a deep breath but I fought back against it in fears she might hear.
In casual, confident steps I approached her. Her eyes were on me, seemingly unfeeling. I tapped her to part her legs, and she did, though with hesitation. I climbed in between those mighty legs and had her arched them.
"No don't look away" I said.
She had turned away when I pushed against her slit. Again hesitated, then turned and face me. She hides her rage poorly. I held her eyes as I pushed my penis through her lips and secured inside her. I leaned forward, planted my hands beside her and lunged deep into her. She barely jerked. She was too tight and dry, but I didn't break through anything so she probably wasn't a virgin. I withdrew, then slammed back in, and then continued, building momentum with steady motion. I felt a burning sensation as I was slamming through but I didn't want to show the discomfort or unpleasantness of the sex so I tried my best to maintain my blank face.
She lay rigid, almost lifeless, if not for her shallow breath. Her breasts looked better formed than I thought and tipped with large brownish black nipples. Those mounds jiggled with the force of my persistent thrusts until I grasped them with both hands and crushed them cruelly.
Her eyes, suddenly, brimmed with tears, but no sobs escaped her. That caught me off guard—I hoped my unease didn't show. Her breath hitched slightly, the only sign she was still human beneath this ordeal. My grip on her breasts tightened and soon I just unloaded into her. A couple more final shoves and then I climbed down.
I turned my back to her as I wiped my still very hard cock with a piece of cloth.
"Call a maid on your way out" I said to her.
She didn't move at first. After a moment, she slid off the bed, slow and mechanical, ignoring my presence. She dressed sloppily—enough to cover herself—and headed for the door.
"Be here in the morning if I don't have to worry about your loyalty ever again" I called after her. She paused. "If you can't trust yourself to do that, go to the treasurer and he will give you your salary for the next five months"
She lingered, considering, then left. That was the first time I thought of killing her, I should have, a smarter man would, but it felt like such a waste. It's like hanging on to a cliff with a backpack full of cocaine. I should drop it but my arms have not ached enough to warrant that, and the rushing steps of a friend is very close. Just a few months.
┌─────── ♕ ───────┐
About him the tavern was bustling with activity. His bulky form attracted attentions and whispers, but not as much as he thought. Most couldn't care. They were in a festive mood, loudly going about their pleasures, gambling, whoring, carousing.
He watched Daega walk in, glanced about before he found him.
"I couldn't find you in the king's castle and I thought you ran off" he said, sitting across him, the chair squeaked in protest.
"One more moment on that bed and I would have gone mad" the barbarian grunted, downing another hefty drink.
They watch a group of thugs glare at them in hush whispers.
"They receive us better than I thought" Daega said.
"They know you are of the king, and he is held in high reverence and fear amongst this people."
Daega is the only of the 8 tribes that Ragnar is in any form of relative peace with. A relationship formed, not on the basis of marrying his daughter, that came later, but that threat of a common main enemy--The Vroth'kal tribe. The largest tribe in Elgwood, and the tribe whose chief the wallborn king killed by himself without putting efforts. A ripple had passed through the gathered chiefs--subtle but unmistakable.
"Too much time away from the wallborns made me forget what sorcery users are capable of." Ragnar said. "Remember they use to chant?"
"That was no sorcery" Daega said, signaling for a passing tavern maid to refill Ragnar's mug. He carelessly tossed her 3 bronze coins from his pouch.
"I thought as much" Ragnar replied. "But I still don't understand what he wants from us"
Daega waited until the tavern maid was through then he leaned closer and said in a low voice, "There are whispers of a great war coming. Whispers from outside the walls"
Ragnar held his gaze. "What war?"
He leaned back. "One at a level the continent has never seen"
"Amongst wallborns?" Ragnar wanted to know.
"No." Daega shook his head. "This one whispers of something more beyond"
"So he wants more warriors?"
Daega shrugged. "They can never be enough warriors with a war that big"
It wasn't making sense to Ragnar, but he could accept it. It was very reasonable and very well within the arrogance of the wallborns.
He looked at Daega and said, "And you are okay with this?"
Daega looked at him for a moment, then began drumming with a thumb. "I'm undecided" he finally said. "I would have to hear what he has to say"
Ragnar was nodding slowly in pretend understanding. Daega is strong, that is well known, but he is old now, and getting older fast.
Age has always been an enemy of their people, robbing them of their strength and limbs many times faster and sooner than wallborns. Sooner than later he will be useless, and if Ragnar knows that Daega's son is frolicking with Vroth'kal then Daega knows as well. The young king could be an end to his fears, or the fall of the tribes.
Daega couldn't mind either, and he will push for it. He can be very persuasive and that makes Ragnar uncomfortable, especially that he came all the way here.
Whatever Daega would have said next was halted by the approach of the thugs that were glaring at them.
"Its about time you leave" the leader snarled, upon reaching them. A youngin. "One filth we can endure, but two is just too many"
The barbarians ignored them.
"Are you deaf?" muttered the youngin, and his hand flickered to his hilt.
But quick as the stroke of a great cat, Daega's arm shot across the table and his fingers locked on the first thug's forearm. There was a snap of breaking bones, and a terrible cry. Almost immediately, another swung at him. He leaned back, dodging it and smacked the wallborn at the back of the head, grabbing him by the hair and slamming his face immediately on the hard table. More attacked and he held up himself easily, while still holding on to the first, who he was dragging along as he fought barely noticing the man's desperate punches.
The scene became even more chaotic as more wallborns who weren't involved decided to join. Ragnar watched casually with his occasional gulps. Daega was slower than he had thought, and it made Ragnar wondered if perhaps he was going for the second alternative.
"Are you fit to live, wallborn?"
His smile did not alter as the corded muscles rippled in knotting ridges along his forearm and his fingers ground into the wallborn's quivering flesh. There was the sound of broken bones grating together and blood oozed from the wallborn's lip where his teeth sank.
It was clear this was the worst pain he had ever endured and only sheer will, or terrible fear had kept him standing. They were the only two standing from the ones who decided to join the fight.
With a laugh Daega released him and the wallborn sank to the ground, trembling with broken arm. A wallborn whose head had been forced through the roof crashed to the ground behind Daega while he was looting the unconscious body of his victims.
None of his victims were dead, and he took the recovered coins to the tavern maid and also gave her some from his, telling her it was for damage cost. Quite uncharacteristic,Ragnar feared, downing his last ale. What are you playing at Daega?
┌─────── ♕ ───────┐
It snowed even heavier the night before, and it was still snowing when I glanced out the window. The maid was wrapped up inbetween the sheets, still sleeping. I wonder what she would tell her husband when she finally gets to go home. I climbed down from the bed. Ophelia was by the fireplace, alert.
Hunger gnawed at me—I hadn't eaten yesterday. I grabbed an apple and walked to the window.
I took a bite, thinking. I don't know how to go about the Vojnka issue. How deep is it? How many are compromised? How do I even go about finding out? I can't trust whatever she says, I might be playing right into their hands. What are they waiting for? What are they planning? Why am I still alive?
"Get some things ready" I said to Ophelia, not turning. "We will be going out in a bit"
"How far are we going?"
"I don't know yet"
She left. Moments later, I approached the desk, scratched a few words onto a scrap of parchment, folded it roughly, and stepped toward the maid's bedside. She lay still, breath soft in the dimness. I nudged her shoulder. Her brow furrowed, eyes fluttering against the weight of sleep. A groan escaped her lips as she squinted at me, confusion clouding her gaze but almost immediately realization or the memories of last night hit her.
"Take this to Helene" I said, handing her the scrap. She grabbed it, clutching the sheets as she scrambled out of bed, fumbling for her clothes. The door creaked open. Vojnka stepped in, stopping dead center. Last night had rattled her more than I'd guessed—she was sulking beneath her bravado.
The maid darted out, leaving us alone. Weeks ago, I'd have taken Vojnka with me.
Now, I studied her.
"Return to your duties." I finally said.
She looked at me, then turned and left, without a bow. So simple minded. It was like I was dealing with a child.
So far as her people are under my care she poses no threat of her own accord. I need to be more proactive of my own safety, rather than waiting for it to come to me. As of right now, especially with what she told me, it doesn't feel like I'm in control.
Finally Ophelia came back. She was in new clothes and she had the proper forethought to come with a hooded cloak.
"Any word on the little elf?" I asked. She shook her head.
I don't need her now, but I'm curious where she's gone. Doubt she's left the capital, though I never knew her as well as I let on.
"Wait for me outside the city's gates" I told her, and she looked at me, a bit confused, but still turned and left.
I crossed to the wardrobe—smaller than my old one, but it's more or less contained what I thought were all my clothes. I picked the cheapest looking cold sensitive clothes within my immediate view, and a hooded cloak. I was in a hurry. I need us to take advantage of the darkness of the dawn until it becomes unnecessary.
I picked up my druid sword, but thought better of it. I didn't want any form of recognition. I pulled the hood up and stepped onto the balcony. The cold was heavy, but not overwhelming. I climbed over, settled as I stared down, then I jumped.
That was careless of me. I should have known they would be watching.