A Tournament at Midsummer

Vesian smiled. His toes curled as she licked, but he soldiered on with his tale. "We hired a boat and went out into the swamps where they had lost their last shipment. It was dark and foggy, we could barely see a thing even with our lanterns. We blundered about for hours, getting colder and wetter and surlier until, just as I was about to turn back—"

There was a knock at the door to their chamber. The maids rose, and Vesian looked to the door, though he felt unable to move due to the countess' control of his cock. But Tiburge barely stirred from her seat, slowly turning a disinterested eye to the door as she touched a finger to the cum leaking from her shaven sex. Celia crossed the chamber and pulled the door open a crack.

"What is it?" she asked. "Her ladyship is— Oh, of course, your highness!" she stepped back suddenly and Princess Adeline swept into the room with her maid in tow.

Vesian started in surprise and bolted to his feet on the far side of the belt, fumbling about for a pillow with which to cover himself. "Apologies your highness!" he yelped pitifully. "We were not expecting you."

Adeline stopped in her tracks when she spotted him, her pale cheeks turning rosy. She stopped so abruptly that her maid ran into her back and nearly bowled her over. The princess stood still as a statue for a moment, considering Vesian, who pathetically covered his nethers with a green silk pillow.

Though it all, Tiburge merely sat naked and dripping on the bed, sipping boredly from her goblet.

"Did you wish something of me, your highness?" the countess asked, stretching herself out on the bed languidly. Adeline bit her lower lip and raised her eyebrows in consternation, but quickly regained her poise.

"Apologies for the interruption, Countess, but I needed to speak to Sir Vesian. His squire told me where to find him."

"If you're looking for some fun with him, I'm afraid I've gotten to him first. Even a strapping young man like him will need some time to recover from that."

"No, I... That's not why I'm here," Adeline stammered, and Tiburge smiled, taking another draw of wine from the goblet. Vesian could not but help notice the red print of his hand on her backside, and also felt his cock hardening behind the pillow.

"Sir Vesian," the princess continued, "I wanted to ask your help in something."

Vesian tried to stammer something in reply, but words failed him and instead he continued to hold the pillow in front of himself. Adeline looked from him to the naked countess and her maid smirked behind a hand.

"Apologies, my lady," the princess managed at last. "Could I speak to Sir Vesian alone?"

Tiburge looked from Adeline to Vesian, then back to the princess with an arched eyebrow.

"These are my chambers, highness. If you want to speak, speak in front of my or find somewhere else."

Adeline's eyes narrowed slight, and she set her shoulders firmly. "Very well. Sir Vesian, my maid has seen suspicious things about the tournament grounds and the castle, and I would like you to investigate."

Vesian paused, one foot creeping across the floor to where his breeches lay discarded, and looked to the princess again. Her maid in the yellow dress also squared her shoulders and stepped up beside her mistress. He shrugged.

"Very well, your highness. I am at your service."

Adeline looked to the countess again. "Is she... circumspect?"

Tiburge laughed. "My dear, I am well-practiced intriguer and a dear friend of Sir Vesian's/ You have nothing to fear from me."

"Aye," Vesian confirmed. "And her maids as well. They help Countess Tiburge arrange discrete liaisons at every feast and tournament and keep them from the attentions of more prudish lords and ladies of the realm."

"And by liaisons," Tiburge added in a stage whisper to the princess, "the good sir knight means orgies." She gave the princess a knowing wink, and the younger women both blushed bright red. "You should drop by sometime," Tiburge added, casually sipping from her goblet. "Damn, empty again. Celia!"

Adeline ignored the countess as her goblet was refilled. She turned to her maid. "Very well. If he says they are trustworthy, I shall trust them. Tilde, tell Vesian what you saw."

The other woman nodded and folded her hands in front of her. "I was asked by her highness to fetch some wine from the cellars. While down there, I heard voices. I am naturally curious, and for that I apologize, but I crept closer to listen. I spied several men conferring, but I could not make out their faces for they were hooded and cloaked. I heard them speaking of a sorcerer, his spells, and the king. I am sorry I couldn't hear more, it was echoey and they were moving. I had to stay back to stay hidden, but I heard them mention a meeting tonight at the base of the wall and to keep it secret. Sir Vesian, I fear something sinister is afoot."

"Tournaments are known for being rife with intrigue," Tiburge murmured, sipping on her goblet again. "And sorcerers are always trouble."

"Have you brought this to your father?" Vesian asked. "Or his spymaster?"

"I did," answered Adeline. "But he dismissed it. He is here to enjoy himself and won't hear talk of intrigue or skulking schemers. So, I came to you."

"Do you not have your own knights to help you?"

Adeline raised her hands helplessly. "I am my father's youngest child. All my brothers and sisters have their own servants, but I must make do with Tilde and just two others. None of my household knights will tear themselves from the feasting and jousting to investigate my maid's claims."

"Unless they are still down in the cellars, what would you have me investigate? 'The base of the wall' isn't much to go on," Vesian asked. Celia held out his breeches to him, and he considered how to put them on while still shielding the princess from the sight of his nether regions.

"Well," Adeline began, and then stopped. Her brow furrowed in thought and she crossed her arms beneath her breasts. Vesian sighed internally and threw aside the silken pillow to dress himself. The princess was too distracted to react, but he noticed Tilde eyeing him, and specifically his cock. "They must mean the base of the castle wall. Perhaps they mean to meet by the sally port."

"The wall could be any wall," Vesian protested, struggling to get his foot through his breeches. Tiburge turned over to eye him with undisguised amusement, and he returned her stare with an annoyed look of his own. "In any case, the castle's walls are long."

"Then we had better get started," Adeline replied. "Look, the sun is low already."

Vesian sighed as he looked out the window. He had been looking forward to the banquet in the great hall. "Very well, princess. Just give me a moment to get dressed."

"I will meet you just beyond the castle gates, but first I must change," she proclaimed and turned on her heel. She vanished through the door in a rush of skirts.

"She is quite something," Tiburge mused, and Vesian could only shake his head.

"I am sorry, my lady, you will have to find someone else to escort you to the feast." The countess stood up from the bed and patted him on the shoulder.

"Oh, it's no bother. But you will have to finish your swamp monster story another time," Tiburge sighed. She stood up and handed the goblet to Celia. Her other servants raised her dressing gown from the floor and she extended her arms for them to dress her. Vesian eyed her bare ass with great intent until the dress was pulled over her to shield her from his hungry eyes. Tiburge noticed him looking all the same and shot him a sly smile.

"Run along and play with the princess now. You know where to find me when you're done."

A short while later, Vesian passed through the main gate from the outer bailey to the village. He had exchanged his blue surcoat with the Order's crest on it for a plain white tunic and a gray cloak to cover himself, for it was now nearing sundown. The gates were usually closed at this time, but a steady stream of peddlers, revelers, and well-wishers continued to pass through it in either direction, all under the not-so-watchful eyes of two sentries leaning casually against the castle wall. Vesian passed between them unnoticed in the wake of a cart laden with empty casks.

Beyond the wall, he turned away from the road and melded in with the shadows. He kept an eye on the gate, waiting for Princess Adeline. His idle eyes wandered to the village, where even from this distance he could hear the night's revelry. Music, laughter, and the cheers of drinkers floated across the expanse before him, and Vesian could only smile. He wished he was there.

"Sir Vesian!" a voice behind him hissed and he turned with a start. Pressed against the gray wall of the castle was the princess, shrouded in a plain dark cloak that betrayed none of her royal status. She had changed into man's clothing, and wore a plain doublet of white wool and dark green breeches. With a hurried look, the princess signaled for him to come closer. Vesian cast a furtive look around, then slipped into the shadows to join her.

"Your highness," he bowed, and she seemed to blush in the darkness. "Where is your maid?"

"I left her behind to cover for my absence," Adeline replied, pulling her cloak tighter. "She couldn't see anyone in the cellars, so we don't need her to identify the men she saw."

"Have you any experience with this sort of thing?" Vesian asked. Adeline pressed her lips together and looked to one side. "I see. Follow my lead, then."

Vesian set off along the wall with Adeline in tow. The midsummer night was warm, only broken by an intermittent chill breeze from the east. Twice Vesian looked back over his shoulder to ensure that the princess was keeping close. The ground near the base of the wall was uneven in places and one careless step could lead to a painful fall. But Adeline kept pace with him. The princess moved with one hand on the wall to steady herself, always staying one step behind him.

They rounded the base of a corner tower and Vesian halted suddenly. Adeline, right behind him, ran full into his back with a muffled "oof!" Her legs buckled beneath her, and she clutched at his surcoat as she fell. Vesian caught her arm, but as she slid down the slope, he lost his footing and was dragged down as well. They tangled together in the cool grass, and Vesian dug his heels in to arrest their slide. He came up on top of the princess, prone in the grass.

Adeline turned over to glare up at him, but Vesian covered her mouth with one hand and pointed ahead of them. Adeline squinted into the darkness in confusion, her mouth screwing up under his hand. There was nothing to see.

"Wait," he whispered and Adeline lay still. There was no sound but the wind in the grass until at last, the moon broke through the night cloud cover and illuminated what Vesian had seen. A cloaked gray figure crouched against the wall beneath the castle sally port, still and silent, looking for all the world like a stone gargoyle. "There's our man," Vesian whispered into the princess' ear.

It was only then that he realized his position, laying atop the king's youngest daughter with a hand over her mouth, and his cheeks turned red. As quickly as he dared, he rolled off her to lay beside her in the grass. Thibault may have been right, he conceded to himself.

But Adeline did not seem to mind. She lay beside him, looking intently up the slope at the figure crouched before the wall who had not noticed them despite their fall. Neither of them dared to speak.

The sally port cracked open, and another figure emerged. It too was cloaked in gray, and descended the narrow steps from the door quickly to stand beside the first figure. They conferred in hushed whispers for a brief moment, then set off determinedly down the slope toward the tournament grounds. Vesian waited until they had nearly disappeared into the darkness before he rose from the grass, pulling Adeline along with him.

The two skulking plotters moved swiftly through the open fields until they disappeared into the sea of brightly colored tents that surrounded the lists. A ring of torches marked the edge of the tournament grounds, posing a brief opportunity for those within to spot them as they emerged from the darkened wilderness. With the princess following close behind once again, Vesian hurried across the illuminated ground and into the sea of tents beneath waving pennants.

"Where did they go?" Adeline whispered, her eyes searching for any sign of them. The paths between the tents were largely empty, with only a few people strolling casually along them, mostly drunk or otherwise oblivious to their presence. But there was no sign of the two cloaked figures.

"Damn," Vesian muttered. "We'll have to search for them. Come on."

Without waiting, he set off down the rows of tents. Even in darkness their brilliant colors shone red, blue, golden, white, purple, and more. Striped, fringed with gold, and emblazoned with their occupants' heraldry, the tents were a riot of color in the darkening night. But none of them gave signs of where the two cloaked figures had gone.

They prowled the rows of tents, even daring to peer into the mouths of those that were open. Many were empty, their owners still off at the night's revels, while others were occupied by sleepers or servants preparing for the next day. Vesian could find no sign of the cloaked men who had come down from the castle and sighed with disappointment. Yet even as he felt about to give up, a fresh breeze blew in and he turned up his nose.

"Hold on. Do you smell that?" Adeline looked to him and pulled back the cowl of her cloak, sniffing the air. She nodded.

"Spice," she agreed. "That will lead us to the sorcerer."

And it did. They wound their way around a line of tents to where a great red pavilion stood in the center. From the red tent emanated the unmistakable scent of indigo spice, a sorcerer's fuel. Vesian gestured for Adeline to stay back as he crept closer. No sentries stood watch, though the tent flap was pulled closed and an eerie light flickered from beneath its walls. He knelt beside the tent and peered underneath it.

His vision was limited, as he looked out from beneath a cot set against the outer wall, but he could see a man that resembled one of those he had followed from the sally port. He was a tall and thin, standing in the middle of the tent unhooded before a tall mirror. Of his companion, there was no sign. The man held a smoking censer before him, slowly waving it about the room while chanting softly under his breath in a strange tongue.

Vesian looked around the room, which was partitioned off with many shelves stacked with bowls, bottles, and jars. Some were empty, while others held strange plant cuttings or animal corpses preserved in water. A table beside the mirror was covered with tomes and scrolls, many left open as if in the middle of a search. Also on the table was an azure orb set in a silver filigreed tower, softly glowing in the dim lit of the tent's solitary brazier.

Vesian lowered the flap and sat back on his haunches. It was not uncommon for sorcerers to appear at tournaments, though usually they were little more than entertaining magicians. This man had come with the trappings of a powerful mage and, coupled with the cloaked schemers, portended something unusually sinister for the king's midsummer tournament.

Within the tent, he heard the sorcerer's voice rise and bent to look under the flap again. Inside, the sorcerer had turned his back to Vesian, now staring intently into the mirror. The censer hung from his hand by its chain, slowly swinging to a stop, but it had been nearly forgotten by its wielder. The mirror in front of him turned dark and red clouds swirled in its depths. Vesian suddenly felt a new presence and the sorcerer bowed.

"Greetings, Master." Vesian felt a chill run up his spine. The mirror showed only dark red clouds in a void, but he had the distinct sensation of being observed. He dropped the tent flap and turned away.

Princess Adeline stood next to him, and he started. She put a finger to his lips and pointed to the tent flap he had let drop. He thought to chastise her for disobeying his orders, but she knelt beside the tent flap and looked underneath, just as he had been doing. Exasperated, he knelt down again and joined her.

"I have given you all that you need," rumbled a voice from the mirror. It slithered like a snake, oozing from the mirror and winding its way up Vesian's spine to his ears. He felt his hair stand on end and could feel the princess tense up next to him. But the sorcerer before the mirror replied, unperturbed.

"I seek clarification on the nature of the spell cast upon my ally."

The entity in the mirror seemed to laugh, a sharp scoff of derision. "Your ally? You mean your pawn." The sorcerer began to protest, looking to one side to an unseen figure, but the voice in the mirror continued. "You lack confidence. And yet, that is what you need."

"My ally must keep winning to enhance the power of his aura?" the sorcerer asked.

"Yes, I have told you as much. Why do you trouble me for this?"

"But winning how? What are the conditions of the spell? If he cheats in the tournament, will the spell break?"

Two great, angry yellow eyes flared to life in the mirror. They fixed the sorcerer in their terrible gaze and a sinister silence descended over the tent. "Cheat," the voice rumbled, and Vesian felt it in his bones. "Don't cheat, it matters not. Those who see a winner will see a winner, and the aura will grow stronger. Mortals love a victor. The spell will amplify their admiration. If he wins it all, his aura will be so mighty that none will be able to resist him."

"Except me," the sorcerer added hopefully, and Vesian thought he could see the eyes smile.

"Except you," the voice replied in an oily voice.

"That is all I needed to know. Once I have what I desire, I will fulfill our bargain. You will have your sacrifices, Master."

"See that I do," the strange voice replied. "You swore an oath, need I remind you? I will have the sacrifices, or your immortal soul."

"I do not need to be reminded," the sorcerer snapped. "Do not think to frighten me with the price of failure, for I will not fail."

"So you say," the voice replied with cruel amusement. "It matters little to me. I will be a victor either way. Run along now..."

The eyes closed and the dark clouds swirled again. The sorcerer turned away from the mirror and Vesian hurriedly let the tent flap fall. He grabbed Adeline by the arm and pulled her away into the rows of tents and out of sight.

"What was that?!" she gasped when they were safely hidden. Vesian shook his head.

"Sorcerers commune with all manner of otherworldly beings. This one may be in over his head."

"He was talking about an aura, a victor's aura. Have you any idea what he means?"

"No, except that his pawn will win the tournament."

"Who is his pawn?"

"I don't know, but I expect we will find out as the results come in. As the list of victors narrows, we will find his minion."

"Surely there must be a faster way. If we wait, it might be too late."

"Indeed. Let us return to the castle and see if Tilde has any other insights. Perhaps we can put our heads together and learn something new."

With cautious looks over their shoulders, they slipped out of the camp and down the path toward the village, where they vanished into the crowds. With Adeline close behind, Vesian wound his way through the village, back up the path to the castle and into the bailey without so much as a second look from the sentries. Inside, they navigated the less-used halls to return to the princess' chambers.

As they reached the spiral stairs toward her chamber, they came upon a small crowd at the bottom. Servants and lords alike were huddled together facing the stairs. Vesian slowed his pace as he approached, dread creeping into his mind. He pushed aside one of the gawkers and stepped through.