Queendom 11: Original Offense

"Haha, skutočne! Wolkenshire má tie najlepšie kurvy!"

"Nie ďakujem. Len mi požičaj dvoch silných robotníkov. Je pekný deň na prechádzku."

Soon Elanor felt her weight being lifted up, quite effortlessly, with the basket swinging slightly, but her gaze remained fixed on the half-eaten fruit. The sentry-man had taken a large chunk, like only an animal would, deforming the ripe fruit to a near-violated state. His teeth-marks, and the shining, drying saliva, still visible. With her nostrils filling with its ripe aroma, her trembling fingers drew it closer. Her throat protested belching at the last minute, spotting a couple fallen facial hair in the chewed up fleshy slime, but his one command kept ringing in her mind.

E A T

Poor Queen squirmed within, for her Master had spoken.

Pets must please, after all.

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"Bruder! Keep up! We'll pass the ravine in thirty."

"General! Wait.."

Tavok paid no heed. There is no time to loose. The ambush last night came out of nowhere, and now the warfront is in chaos. The pesky humans won't let such an opportunity go to waste. Another attack could come any minute, from any angle. They could have wormed their way to the flank last night, while my kin burned. Once the King is safe, I must get back. They need me at the front. We can't afford to forfeit the stalemate.

"TAVOK!! It's the King. HALT!"

Bruder yanked the reins, and with great difficulty helped the King down. Kragorth had a massive build, and Bruder was dead-tired, and disheartened. Tavok jumped off the horse, and ran back, unfurling his water-pouch.

"no.. Tav, don't." Kragorth struggled to speak.

"It's only water, my King. Please, don't strain yourself."

"I said NO, General!"

Kragorth roared, and clutched his left clavicle in pain, gritting his teeth. Tavok helped him lean back, and said.

"My King.. What do you remember?"

"I.. I remember fine, Tav. What's the plan of action? Give me a brief."

Plan of action? Well.. The General took a deep breath, and said.

"We were ambushed my King. The arrow to your chest was a direct hit. It pierced right through. Your whole left arm has turned dark and veiny. Poison-dipped tips, clearly. Please have some water, it has the general antitoxins."

"You think I don't know that?"

"My King please don't strain yourself." As Tavok urged, Bruder looked at him astonished. He had never heard the General plead. Kragorth explained.

"It's no natural venom, Tavok. I can taste the metallic tang, it's some new concoction from their alchemists. We can't risk drinking our usual remedies, we don't know how it'll react. Humans are cunning snakes. Take me to Vehmeth, this instant. And Tav, even if I wither, or beg, don't feed me a thing. Not even a drop of water. I don't feel so good, I might collapse any moment now. Did you contact her?"

"Yes my King. The message must have reached by now. Go to the edge of the ravine, and signal with whistle. She'll come find you. She knows the quickest routes, she was once our best scout."

"The Dark-eyed.?" Bruder looked up, as he helped the King up.

"Yeah, her. Yevel Nishca! I don't trust her, but he does. And we don't have a choice."

"But Tav, what about you?" Bruder asked worried.

"We can't left those slimey fucks get away so easy. I've saved up my wrath all night, that I won't sleep until the whole of Chimes turn red.."

"Tavok.." The King called.

"I'll surely give your regards my King, but I must go now."

"TAVOK! Listen. You are taking me to Vehmeth. And Bruder.. You fuck-annoying swine, go hold the line. Die fighting this time, alright. I'm sick of your stupid mug. Haha.."

"Yes my King." It was rare for an orc to smile, especially when tearing up. They will pay, my King.Their flesh will rot, and feed the greens of Yevelshka!

"Kragorth, I'm a General. And there's a war that needs me. Our people need me at helm."

"I'm your King, Tavok. My word is your command."

Tavok shook his head, while ensuring the bandages were secure. Kragorth rephrased.

"I'm asking my friend, Tavok. My most faithful. My very best. Take me to Vehmeth. There's a lot you should know.."

The prophecy asks a lot of you. And not just in faith. You have a better shot, my friend. That, I can see clearly now. Listen to Vehmeth, make the most of Nishca, and trust Soren. You'll lead our kind to supremacy, in no time. So long as you.. The thought stopped, as his mind slipped into the unconscious. He had stopped talking a while ago, blacking out abruptly. Laying the King on horse-back, Tavok said.

"Bruder, tag along. Those slimey fucks could be trailing, I need you watching my back."

Bruder looked at him, confused by the sudden change in demeanor. Tavok was known to be ruthless, but this was different.

"But the war.."

"I need someone I can trust. And I don't trust that Nishca bitch. Let's move."

"But the King said.."

"The King is down, you swine! I'm in charge, so wipe the fucking tears AND GET IN LIIIIINE..!!"

His scream echoed all around, as Bruder felt genuinely terrified.

As they rode through the woods, Tavok felt as if the world was spinning.

Kragorth is down, and I am to lead.?!

I am to keep the tribes from breaking apart, by the time he recovers.

I am to replace the Great Philosopher Orc King, the rarest of the rare, the one who takes head on, half the tribe-chiefs with just words, and all of them at once if needs be, with fists..

I am to replace him?

! Perhaps I can manage the latter, but this isn't about a single fight, its about war, about crushing those slimy fucks. The Orcdom needs now a unifier, a mix of wisdom and valor.

And yet, I am to lead?

Hooo..

Okay, if I am to do this, I'll need help. Bruder will follow, because he's Bruder, but the rest are unpredictable. The only reason half of them tolerated my gut was for the King. I must approach it like a war. Forming alliances, and offering incentives. Start with Drugin, use our mistrust of Vehmeth, and that Dark-eyed bitch for common ground.

The orc kept thinking about ways of persuasion, as his King lay right next, trapped in hallucinatory nightmares. The noise of strategizing helped Tavok quiet the part of his mind that was bleeding for the King.

That's how he copes. How he had always coped.

***

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It was a pleasant afternoon in the countryside.

Three kids were guiding a flock of ducks, the youngest running around playfully, disturbing the formation, much to the annoyance of her two elder brothers. The ten year old boy yelled at his little sister, which made no difference, for she was too deep in her own merry, till she caught sight of the incoming pedestrians. The oldest, a skinny kid on the verge of puberty, ran up to the front making strange whistles, and using his long stick to guide the flock into formation, giving way for the walkers.

The man walking upfront, wearing bright maroon robes, smiled at the kids, while the two tall ones behind paid no heed. The young girl watched in fear and awe, as she always did, as the pair walked on, their long sinewy limbs slightly waving. The reddish pants matched their sun-tanned orange bare torso, and lack of fat made it seem like they were cast right out of clay. Hill-tribesmen! She stepped back, her little hand reaching for the elder sibling.

The kids watched wide-eyed, how effortlessly the men balanced that long piece of wood on their head, supported with coarse cloth rolled into a foot-high cushion, but the impressive part still was how they managed stabilization, by bending their knees to match the bumps in the terrain with each step, perfectly complementing each other, while keeping the wooden beam undisturbed. Two large baskets hung from both ends of the beam, headed for the market-square, no doubt.

When the trio reached closer, the man upfront threw something at the eldest kid. He caught it, without breaking gaze. It was an apple. The finest kind. As the boy smiled in gratitude, the man gave two more to his siblings. The kids stood watching as the three men walked past. The little girl ran up to the eldest, and snatched his apple as well, giggling infectiously, unaware that her brother had loosened his grip, sensing her approach.

Waving at the hill-tribesmen, the younger ones went back to tending the ducks, while the eldest stood there, looking. The hills-tribe never spoke much, and when they did they were very kind, but distant. And they had immense stamina, being able to trek for days, without much food, or rest. They had always fascinated him, and feeling how his body grew strong every day, he hoped to could grow up to be like them.

As he stood there empty-handed, forgetting the flock behind, it felt as if being watched. His eyes bulged as the top-cover of the hanging basket slowly lifted. A soft fair hand reached out, and threw something. His body reacted on instinct, the right hand catching the ripe mango effortlessly, but his eyes stayed frozen on the basket-top. As a beauty beyond his dreams smiled wide, the boy's jaw dropped, mesmerized. A twinkle right from heavens. He was so captivated that it dawned on him only way later, that she was topless the whole time. All he could remember was the vague shapes from periphery, the perfect pair in his imagination, the stuff of pubescent nightfalls. By the time him was awoken from the trance, by his yelling siblings fighting for the fruit, the tribesmen were long gone.

"Who gave you the mango?"

"A nymph!" He said, as someone snatched it away.

"A mountain nymph.."

No one would believe him, but he couldn't wipe the grin, as her face came to mind, every time.

That was too risky, Nora!

The Queen smirked, while scolding herself. Yes, but it was fun.

She knew she should be more cautious, more fearful, given the current predicament. But soon as they left the Fort, this strange liberating fear filled her soul. Through the gaps in the weave she could see everything around, even feel the breeze at times, and yet.. No one could see her, mainly because no one had a reason to stare at a hanging fruit-basket, large as it was. So long as she kept quiet.

bonk.. bonk.. bonk.. bonk..

There's that distant drumming again. What's the special occasion, I wonder.

Elanor slowly lifted herself, shifting her weight to the right butt-cheek. Her left was numb from sitting on ice for so long. How long has it been? It felt like hours, and it felt like a blink. Every moment since getting into the basket had her on edge, yet strangely elated, that it rarely felt like a task. If anything, she felt like she was just strolling the countryside at a pleasing pace, in her birthday suit. A naked parade, with all the rewards, and none of the risks. A close second, at the very least. Maybe I judged too harshly. Maybe this Handler-thing isn't so bad, after all.

It was a bit scary the first fifteen minutes, when they got out of the fort, took the short-cut through the jungle, instead of the long cobbled road. It was a steep climb down, with the terrain slippery for the untrained. She nearly laughed watching Hoyt struggle to maintain authority, wobbling with each step. The Queen was scared as well, for one of the native carrying her to slip up, and toss her basket down hill. Good Lord! That would have been a disaster.

But once she got used to the weird rhythm of the men stepping downhill, while balancing her,and another giant fruit-basket, hanging from a long wooden beam, her focused shifted to nature. She had never been to a forest so calm and beautiful, that it almost seemed unreal. A strange bird-cry may startle her every now and then, but for the most part, she felt a strange sense of belonging. Like her nakedness belonged to these greens.

Closing her eyes, she imagined herself, walking down the slope, her knees trembling for balance, but doing much better than poor Hoyt. She could feel the muddy wetness on her soles, feel the dirt splatter on to her calves. Some even reaching up to her bare butts. She felt one with nature. Any artificial construct of shame, seemed sinfully out of place. Even the feel of hair felt like a cover so unnatural. For a second she wondered, how it would feel, being totally bare. To commune with nature, just as smooth and spotless, as the day she was born.

Her hands went for the third mango, for it was time for the late-lunch. With every bite of the best produce, the only taste that rushed to her mind was that of the meady-saliva of her very first bite. She had never felt so weird, when she could tell men apart from sperm, but recognizing the taste of another's spittle.. Somehow that made her feel dirty. A thing out of mouth, made it discomfortingly personal.. Ewww..

Bonk.. Bonk.. Bonk.. Bonk..

Is that getting louder?

Elanor tried focusing on the sounds of nature, and went back to daydreaming. She remembered the shallow stream they crossed. And walking now, she felt her feet get wet. It felt unnatural. Like she had been doing it wrong. Though she couldn't tell why. As she took a couple more steps, a gentle breeze caressed her rear. And it dawned on her why.

I'm in nature, I must act natural.

"All fours, pet."

The Queen suddenly found herself, on all fours. As her both open palms dug about an inch into the wet forest floor, it felt as if, nature herself reached back and embraced.

Like telling, Welcome back, child! The soil felt soft, not sticky.

Bonk! Bonk! Bonk!

The drumming suddenly stopped. Elanor noticed that the men had halted as well. Looking through the gaps, she could see the silhouette of a big fat man, with a drum to his side, talking with Hoyt. Is this part of the task? Is Hoyt even authorized to involve others in Handler-business? The Queen noticed that they were standing next to an unusually long carriage, like a cargo-vessel. It had long iron-barred windows by the ceiling, and strange bell sounds could be heard from within. Elanor remembered seeing a few shepherds on the way, with some of their herd wearing bells. Perhaps this is a cattle-mover, to transport goats in bulk. Is that even a thing?

Suddenly the basket started swinging, and she knew they had resumed. The drummer went back to hitting, with much enthusiasm, as the carriage slowly followed him. What were they talking about? The Queen noticed something like a satchel hanging from Hoyt's shoulder. Did he get that from the drummer? Ouuch.!

She squirmed suddenly, struggling not to shake too hard, as her right shin cramped. Gritting her teeth, Elanor shifted weight to the other bum, while rubbing the pained area. A couple of deep breaths, and it relaxed. Ho! That was so close.

The pain may have shifted pulled her back into reality, for she didn't go back to daydreaming for a while. She had another mango, and licking the icky mess from her finger cracks seemed natural now. When it got too messy, she simply rubbed it on her skin, needing no napkin. In a way, she really enjoyed this trip. It was just as she imagined earlier, riding through the countryside, but only better. For now, she didn't have to worry about the sun, with her own personal air-cooled capsule.

The Queen didn't worry much about what Hoyt had in store. Mainly, because it was Hoyt, and not Jezeb. Hoyt wouldn't take advantage of her, he wouldn't even look at her naked self, so the task has to be something tame. She felt irritated that her nipples remained erect. It's just the cold. I'm not enjoying this. It's just the ice. She kept telling herself.

Her focus shifted to the two hill-tribesmen carrying her. She was impressed by their stamina, their complementary balance, and that incredible neck-strength. Almost as if both their body and mind, even reflexes have to align to a single aim, of stabilizing the goods on either end of the pole. Is that what Father Benedictus meant, that day? About alignment.. What was it he said? The subtle awareness of the multitude of patterns, patterns of intend and randomness.. Have the presence of mind rooted in the moment, as all coalesce around.. and aligns?! Big fancy words, but do they actually help?

No, it's no help at all. Elanor thought deeply, as to what the dream means. Finding no connections, she focused on what worried her lately. Then about the days were worry wasn't in the picture. Thoughts of troubles during the hiatus came to mind. Then her mind shifted back to the birthday, the one she had told Bella the other day. Her mind bounced on, between times of worry, and times of bliss, a couple more times, before finally reaching the midpoint of it all.

The night those first hints came in.

In unverified whispers, of losing contact with the King's convoy. Not lost, not dead, just missing. Elanor remembered the turmoil rising from within, all the pained gazes and consoling embraces being not enough. When the surety of loss began to settle in for most, she remember her denial only strengthening. No, it wasn't denial. But a determination to steel through, to keep her spine erect, head held high. To not bow to the fate, and never waste a single tear. She remembered waiting in the castle balcony, the couple's favorite spot in the whole kingdom, as search parties returned spend, having lost all hope.

The rest was foggy, like a watercolor bleed. All a confusing blur, all but for one. The very moment it grasped her deep.

It came as a breeze, as she waited by the balcony. A warm fuzzy embrace, blanketing her from behind just as he used to. She was simply being present, at the right spot at the right time. And the patterns around coalesced, to give her enough of a hug, to well up from within. She remember her vision blurring, and the insurmountable lightness of relieving realization, as a part so deep in her heart began softening.. Began healing..

Yes, she remember tears rolling down. She remember the feeling of it, never stopping. But above all, she remembered that it was the closest her came to feeling alignment. Such an overwhelming sense of being present in the moment, as the universe aligned itself around her, to give that which can only be given.

What the hell?

Elanor looked around as the basket jerked. Why is it so noisy? Is that people I hear? The Queen squinted, her palmns muffling a yawn.

Wait, did I fall asleep?! Seriously?

Looking out, she felt that familiar knot deep in her core. There were people all around, shouting at each other. No, not shouting. More like haggling. Am I in the middle of the town market?

Hoyt, what the hell?

Looking around, her throat dried up quick. She couldn't spot Hoyt. There were people of all ages, and sex, all around, but Hoyt wasn't one of them. As the hill-tribesmen slowly walked upto what looked like a storage, Elanor spotted something new inside the basket. A satchel, likely the one Hoyt got from that drummer earlier. It had a note sticking out, that read..

LAST RESORT!

***

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Hoyt kept whistling the tavern-song as he walked into the Vigile Tower. The watchmen outside bowed, assuming rank from his sheer confidence. He was after all dressed in casuals, clothes the Castellan provided earlier, so no one could have suspected him for being a lowly sentry-man. The Vigile Tower is the office of the regional watchmen, who were responsible of policing and general security. Hoyt looked around and finally found the short, bulky man with balding greys, sitting at the inner chamber. Ignoring the guards around, he confidently walked in, without even bothering to knock. The Chief Guard looked up, annoyed and offended by his disrespect. But failing to gauge the rank, he played it safe.