Barbarian Tales Ch. 07

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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TRAINING GROUNDS, THE PALACE, CITY OF YELEDOR

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The ball of fire swallowed Girn whole, his body engulfed in a blazing vortex. Where he had stood now only remained a billowing cloud of black smoke, the ground scorched. Gasps escaped from the onlookers, then a dragging silence.

From the smoke Girn emerged, roaring, muscles bulging, lifting his magical greataxe high. The crowd joined in, yelling and cheering at the top of their lungs for the fiery climax of the performance.

"Completely unharmed," Magister Rebus said as he walked up. "Extraordinary indeed. Truly a worthwhile quest north for the artifact weapon."

"Aye," Girn said. More than worthwhile, he thought, remembering all the beautiful women he had encountered along the way. From Kaylie and Sophia in Woodend, to the imprisoned sorceress Lyra Frostkiss, and all the Forest Nymphs in the Grove of Eternal Summer, especially Aryana and Astris. If not for them, the recovery of the legendary weapon would've been plain boring. "Aye," he repeated.

"Talking of quests," the magister continued. "I would be most pleased with your presence in my office later this evening. There are delicate but urgent matters we should discuss."

"Of course, Rebus," Girn said, not needing to use the formal 'magister' as Rebus was his friend. He could do nothing to prevent the anticipation and eagerness showing on his face. Experiencing the busy market square earlier that day, Girn was convinced to be more at ease when sent back out into the wilderness on another mission.

They both looked at the dispersing crowd in the stands. They were as versatile as the crowd in the market square: lords and ladies in clothing styles he had never seen before, an assembly of wild colour combinations, from layers upon layers of sweat-breaking attires to barely concealing gowns, knights with differently coloured sets of armour, bright silver, sunny golden, dark steel, some blue-green alloy, and more.

"Quite a show we performed," Rebus concluded. "The crowd sounded pleased."

"Throwing fire balls at me instead of straw dummies will do the trick," Girn reasoned. "Although next time, mentioning that I will be the target of spells for more than an hour would be appreciated." His gaze fell on the western sky behind the stands, dark clouds like dreadful omens still threatening from afar. Had they moved since the market square? Since he had left The Amazing Chest brothel?

"Oh yes," Rebus interrupted his thoughts. "The court always hungers for another spectacle. I had the impression that the ladies rather appreciated your involvement."

Girn smirked, looking over the plethora of women from all corners of the continent. "And in turn I do like their attendance."

"No shrivel of doubt in my mind about that," the magister chuckled, prodding Girn's side with his elbow.

They stood a while observing the stands. Girn recognized King Gideon in his regal attire and flanked on one side by Chancellor Lynch. On the other flank walked a man in full armour scrutinizing Girn.

"Who's that?"

"Ah yes," Rebus began. "That is Lord Jesper Bordis."

Clad in heavy plate armour, Lord Jesper held his helmet under one arm, his other resting on the pommel of his longsword. He resembled the knight in shining armour every maiden craved for. But then Girn saw his clean shaven face, accentuated by a pointy chin and bushy eyebrows meeting in a knot above his beak-shaped nose. Not exactly Prince Charming. Also, his arrogant stance, pompous look, and twitching mouth told Girn he wasn't pleased at all.

"Ambitious man, Lord Jesper. Climbed from soldier to general in record time. He arrived only moments after you left Yeledor, taking up the position of Royal Guard Commander. He'd been fighting skirmishes in the borderlands. Mainly against raiders, mostly your fellow barbarians."

"Explains his hate-filled look," Girn surmised.

"Yes, well, make sure you don't remain in the room when he's the only other one present."

"Think I can't handle him?"

"Girn, Girn, Girn," Rebus tutted. "It's not about the ability to handle anyone. It's about keeping peace at court and prevent any more tension." The magister sighed deeply, then continued: "Just stay out of his way, okay?"

Girn grunted as his only response.

Girn's eyes then fell on a woman in a black dress with red lining. He knew her as Lady Madison Drac but nothing more. Lady Madison looked otherworldly, her tanned skin shining in the sunlight, her pretty face framed by flowing brown hair and highlighted by chiselled cheekbones. Even from this distance her piercing blue eyes were clear. From the crown of her head protruded two horns. She too was intently looking back at them both.

"She's been at court for a long time," Rebus began, noticing Girn's gaze resting on Lady Drac. "Although, only recently her presence became more notable. Beware her smooth-talking," Rebus warned. "She winds every lord around her finger, swaying them into doing whatever she wants. She trades in secrets and information. A dangerous one, I've learned. I'm not really sure what her goals are... Better stay away."

With her tempting body, Girn definitely believed Madison Drac got what she wanted from anyone. Captivated by her beauty, he also weighed Rebus' warnings. After the regrettable interruption of the Mistress of Foxes' show in The Amazing Chest, Girn yearned for some pleasure. The stunning Lady Madison surely looked like she could provide that.

"I know that look," Rebus said seriously. "Don't think with your cock, Girn. It's not hard to work out the reason behind your delayed arrival in the city!"

"Aye, sure," he simply said, deciding against Rebus' advice and wanting to get acquainted with Lady Madison anyway when the opportunity arose. But Rebus was also right. He had been mostly thinking with his cock when staying with Kaylie and Sophia in Woodend. However, he would never regret the wonderful time they spent together. It's not like Rebus, or any man for that matter, would easily decide to leave when kissing Sophia, kneading her large breasts, and being balls-deep in Kaylie's tight ass while she also fingers herself.

"Who's that peacock?" Girn gestured at a colourfully dressed gentleman.

"Lord Favian Seaworth, a very amicable man. He is certainly one to befriend."

Lord Favian had slick, black hair, pulled tightly back in a pony tail. On top he carried a captain's hat, complete with feathers and the like. His skin was bronze, accompanied by amber eyes, indicating he originated from far south of Yeledor. His nose, swollen and red, betrayed he enjoyed drinking rum, or whatever alcohol sailors drank. Across one cheek he sported a long scar.

"Lifted from mere merchant to Lord Merchant and Admiral of the Royal Trading Fleet. You want to stay on his good side for two things: his influence with the council and king, and his infinitely deep pockets. I sometimes suspect Lord Favian dabbling in conjuration, making gold out of thin air."

"He's a wizard too?"

"Of course not, but the speed by which he accumulates wealth and fills the royal treasury is astonishing."

"Anyone who needs money can be found circling around Lord Favian," Girn concluded, confirmed by Rebus' nodding. While the poor are sleeping in the piss-soaked streets, Girn thought, the rich act like vultures to accumulate more and more wealth.

"If my memory serves me well," Rebus continued, pointing at a group of Ladies, "they are..."

"Princess Eleanora," Girn interjected. He recognized the princess but like Lady Madison Drac, Girn still had to meet her personally. "But the flock of ladies around her are unknown to me."

Rebus named them all, and Girn committed them to memory, more focussed on their appearances than Rebus' elaboration.

First was Lady Lilith, timid in posture and expression, but a captivating cleavage and hair the colour of the fiery hearth beside which Girn would like to get to know the redhead. Lady Helen was an elven brunette with long legs, pointy ears, and a cute face with extremely inviting lips. Next was Lady Maeve, a buxom blonde with a grey-blue hue to her skin and unbelievable curves, making Girn suddenly salivate a little. Finally there was Lady Aenys with a stern expression but an exquisite figure with generous assets.

"All arrived recently, sent by their fathers to get acquainted with life at court, and, more importantly, make alliances. To strengthen the bonds between houses, as they say." Rebus ended his summary by clearing his throat and turning his back to the stands. "Right, I've some other business to get to, but I'll see you this evening."

The stands were as good as empty and Girn walked to the bench to take his waterskin. He could use the refreshment. Drinking large gulps and wiping his mouth, he noticed a piece of paper where his waterskin had been. He picked it up and read: "Swan tower, third floor, second chamber on the left, after dark. --Lady SD."

How had the note gotten there, slipped under his waterskin? Girn had not noticed anyone other than the recruits and some knights lingering near the training grounds. Nevertheless, it looked like Girn's schedule for the evening had just filled up. He would visit Magister Rebus to discuss some so-called delicate business, and afterwards find out who this Lady SD was and what she wanted. Girn went over all the names he learned: Lady Aenys, Lady Helen, Lady Lilith, Lady Maeve, but only Lady Madison Drac had the surname to fit the abbreviation SD. Maybe she had also a sister at court? He would find out soon enough. He shrugged and started towards the mess hall.

Suddenly, thunder reverberated through the air. Girn watched the undulating clouds on the western horizon. He had to ask Rebus about them, surely the magister would know what the unnatural clouds meant.

"Greetings," a woman with straight blonde hair interrupted his thoughts and journey to supper, his stomach rumbling in protest. "I'm Lady Aenys, pleased to meet you."

"My name's Girn," he politely introduced himself, absorbing Lady Aenys' presence. Earlier, from afar, Girn had already seen how perfectly curved her figure was. But close-up now, Lady Aenys did not look as stern as Girn had first thought. Crow's-feet betrayed she was middle-aged, however, that didn't impede upon Aenys' gorgeous sapphire eyes and foxy expression. Her bright blue-and-purple dress hugged her figure tightly, toned body with wavy curves and large bosom clearly outlined. She deserves praise and respect, Girn thought, around forty summers and still a body that fit. He found it quite the accomplishment. "Pleasure is all mine, m'lady."

"You flatter me," she said. "What a performance, by the way, engulfed by fire, yet emerging unscathed."

"Only a feature of my greataxe," Girn pointed with his thumb to the weapon strapped on his back.

"Oh no, no," Lady Aenys objected, placing a delicate hand on Girn's bicep. "Don't be humble, Lord Girn-"

"Just Girn, not a lord."

"Don't be humble, Just Girn," Lady Aenys keenly joked, giving a wink. "Not every knight could wield that weapon, let alone dare face fire magic voluntarily. You need to retain unbreaking courage and possess supreme strength." She applied light pressure on Girn's bicep. "Two properties you've proven to enjoy."

Lady Aenys' pearly smile was dazzling, and she challenged Girn's so-called unbreaking courage by stepping closer, her bosom lightly brushing his torso.

"Abilities I've trained my whole life for," Girn said and cursed himself for clearing his throat, making him look nervous.

"Trained until exhaustion, I'm sure," Lady Aenys bit her lower lip and raised one leg so her inner thigh caressed the outside of Girn's upper leg. Her dress parted and revealed a golden leg choker curling around her thigh. "Trained until you were sweat-soaked, muscles taut, fully spent, panting--"

"Alright alright," Girn interrupted, liking the passion Lady Aenys radiated, but not the place this was happening. He nodded cordially to passers-by; a page leading a horse to the stables; a maid carrying a bucket of water; a librarian with a bag of scrolls. "Not accurate but close," he smiled, taking Lady Aenys by the shoulders, literally picking her up and placing her at arms length.

"Yes, put me in my place, Girn," the naughty blonde said, desire in her sapphire eyes.

"Not exactly the place, or time, for that," Girn insistently whispered.

"Your loss," Lady Aenys responded, suddenly more serious. She looked as stern again as Girn had first imagined her in the stands. "Anyway, if you change your mind, ask any guard or maid to show you to my chambers. Welcome anytime not-a-Lord Girn." She turned to leave.

"Not tonight, but maybe later," Girn tried not to be too harsh in turning her down (for now), but he was not sure Lady Aenys had heard since she kept walking. Girn shrugged, then chuckled, finding humour in the vast difference in approach between the secret note of the mysterious Lady SD and the overt candor of Lady Aenys.

It seemed maturity didn't bring composure and restraint, at least not in Lady Aenys' case. For a woman of forty-odd summers, she was open and impulsive in making her wants clear, not caring in the slightest who witnessed. Still, Girn respected her clarity and followed her swaying ass until she disappeared around the corner.

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MESS HALL, THE PALACE, CITY OF YELEDOR

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An overwhelming smell of roasted meat and other delicacies hit his nose when he walked through the doorway. At a long table, knights were busy stuffing their faces. Girn walked past, surveying everything that had been prepared.

Stuffed partridge with boiled potatoes in sweet berry sauce. Honey-glazed ribs with grilled vegetables. Roasted chickens with cooked apples and pears. Meat pies with an arrangement of fillings. Poached quail eggs. Large smoked hams. And much more. There must've been a hundred cooks working in the palace kitchen to prepare this amount of food.

"Over here, Vanquisher of Fire!"

There was Lord Favian Seaworth, the bronze-skinned Lord Merchant, waving at Girn, beckoning to take a seat at his table. Girn nodded his thanks and began filling his plate with delicious food as soon as his behind touched his seat. He heard Lord Favian chuckling beside him.

"Quite the hunger, but I wouldn't expect otherwise from such a bear of a man." Lord Favian placed his hand gently on Girn's shoulder and leaned closer. "Now tell me, how did it feel, engulfed by magical flames and all?"

Girn looked up, mouth filled with gravy, chicken breast, and steamed vegetables. He only then noticed the other occupants of the table. He observed the diners while chewing loudly and swallowing mouthfuls of food.

Across Girn sat the gorgeous redhead, Lady Lilith, and beside her another lady Girn had not seen during his spectacle with Rebus. Looking between the two, at another table, Girn noticed Lord Jesper staring daggers at him. Girn averted his gaze back to the lady he hadn't learned the name from yet.

"Ah, how discourteous of me," Lord Favian exclaimed. "Let me first introduce these two beautiful ladies." Nodding to Lady Lilith, he said, "With hair the colour of fire, Lady Lilith and," - he smiled at the other lady - "the exotic Lady Nemira."

The dark-skinned Lady Nemira smiled back at Girn, her smile shining white in contrast to her skin. She had large hazel eyes, and Girn noticed them gazing across his torso. Lady Nemira also wore a golden nose-piercing and a golden torc around her neck.

"And I am the humble Lord Favian Seaworth, honoured by your presence at our table."

"Pleased to meet you all," Girn said and put another drumstick in his mouth, grease dripping from his chin.

"What a display it was!" Lord Favian boomed, throwing his arms into the air.

Dinner continued with the extravagant Lord Seaworth prodding Girn to talk about the spectacle and other adventures he had been on. Then, Lady Nemira talked in her surprisingly seductive accent about growing up in the desert. Lady Lilith timidly avoided Girn's gaze throughout everything and didn't say a word.

Feeling the need to also exchange words with the redhead, Girn attempted to strike up a conversation and said, "Lady Li-"

He was promptly interrupted by someone tapping his shoulder. The same messenger boy from The Amazing Chest was stood behind him. He offered another note and left. What was it with these lords and ladies leaving notes?

The note read, "Available to discuss delicate matters. --Magister Rebus."

Girn sighed and crumpled the note. Why was that note necessary? He had already agreed to speak with Rebus. The magister must be really impatient and the matters in question much more important than Girn thought.

"Lady Lilith, it would be a pleasure to talk with you later," Girn offered, then excused himself and left the table.

He tossed the crumpled note into the fireplace on his way out of the mess hall.

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HAWK TOWER, THE PALACE, CITY OF YELEDOR

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The office of Magister Rebus was in the Hawk Tower on the top floor. Outside the door were posted two guards, trusted individuals Rebus himself had appointed as his own Magister's Guard. As an important player in the politics of Yeledor, advisor to the king, and master of the arcane arts, the Magister had quite the influence. Although an age difference of many decades, Girn considered himself lucky to be friends with the older man. They also made an excellent brains-muscles combination. Girn was the muscles. Obviously.

The guards let Girn pass and he entered an exquisitely adorned room. Gilded chandeliers hung from the ceiling, large bookcases filled with tomes and scrolls along the walls, a large window overlooking the city flanked by long, colourful tapestries. In a large armchair sat Rebus, mostly hidden behind a desk stacked with manuscripts.

"Thank you for attending on short notice, Girn," Rebus stated matter-of-factly.

"I'm of mind to believe it was not a request, but a command," Girn retorted.

"You know me too well," the magister chuckled. "I'm of mind friends may command each other once in a while. You are here, that's what matters."

"Before I forget," Girn said, looking through the glass panes behind Rebus. In the west, the sun was descending, already partly hidden behind the ominous clouds. "What're those dark clouds on the horizon? They seem unnatural."

"Precisely what we'll be discussing," Rebus gestured for Girn to take a seat. His bulk barely fit between the decorated arm rests, the chair creaking under his weight. The magister's eyebrows formed a tight knot above his nose bridge.

"Your expression betrays the situation is dire," Girn observed.

"Painfully so," Rebus regretfully said. "The clouds are summoned by the necromancer Voxir Doomweaver. He's taken his seat in the ruined Harrow Keep. His undying army resides under that darkness; they don't like the sunlight. Wherever the clouds drift, utter destruction follows."

"I've seen necromancy at play before." In his mind Girn saw crackling beams of black energy streaking through the air, vaporizing anything in its path.

"It's abominable magic, twisting the beauty of nature into something corrupted," Rebus said, clearly disgusted.

"No commoner, or even soldier, can hope to stand a chance against its destructive magic. By the size of the darkness in the sky, his army must be considerable."

"He's had time to recruit villagers and the like, willing or unwilling, either way growing his forces. That's without whatever dreadful abominations he has summoned."