Raptor and Rapture Ch. 02: Demon Princess

She was quiet for a long moment before she asked, "Will I have your child?"

He blinked. He hadn't even thought about the prospect of her becoming pregnant, and he almost stuttered, "I... don't know."

Crizet laughed, "Calm yourself; demons are not like humans, we don't fret about childbearing like all of you do. I was just thinking, if I do have a son, for I assume the goddess would have it so, he will be a halfling, and therefore, he may not be well accepted into our lineage."

Tarquin nodded, "How does Makdesh usually handle such things?"

"Well, they won't stone him, if that's what you're asking, but he will have a hard time of things. Either way, I will love him... I just wanted you to know that. When he is old enough, I will tell him to find you... do you understand?"

Tarquin was impressed with her train of thought, and he didn't try to hide it from his tone, "You're an interesting woman, Crizet," he chuckled. "Yes, tell him to find me. If I am still alive, I can think of no greater honor than to meet our child that was raised by you."

Crizet splashed him with water, "You are too much a flatterer!" She giggled again, then sighed quickly, "It would never work between us... would it?" She asked him seriously.

The question caught him off guard, but she'd vocalized what he was feeling as he answered her somberly, "No... it never would."

"I've made peace with that," she said as she turned in the water and took his hands, "Come, let us not dwell on this," she smiled playfully. "I am your arena prize, afterall, you should take advantage of me."

He met her in the water and held her in his arms, "Yes I think I will."

She sighed into the side if his head as he nibbled at her neck, "Tarquin, is it normal for me to get so excited over...being called names?"

He leaned back and laughed loudly, "Yes, it really is. I think, for you at least, it probably feels good to be insulted just a little."

She blushed, "Could I really be that base?"

He kissed her cheek, "No, that's not it, it's just like you said: you are tired of being treated like a doll. Not only that, but how often does anyone call you a whore?" He asked you with a suggestive grin.

She blushed again, "No one would, not here. You'd be the first."

"I won't be the last," he told her quietly as he nestled his head onto her chest, "Someday, you'll meet someone that will talk so dirty to you that he'd probably make me blush."

She petted his head, "Hey, what are you doing down there?"

He bit down gently onto her left breast and sucked on her skin, "Leaving a mark."

She laughed, "Like a dog marking its territory?"

"No, this is so you can remember me; it will only last for a few days," he told her as he kissed his way down her body. He dipped beneath the water and squeezed her rump as he pressed his face between her thighs.

She smiled down at him as she sighed, "You really will ruin me," she said quietly as she leaned back and spread her legs for him.

"My friend...you have returned!" The smith, Ambol, greeted him excitedly as he approached.

Tarquin waved as he approached. He was followed by one of the same bodyguards that had saved him the day prior, and they walked up with him as he stepped up to the man, "Did you watch the fight?" Tarquin asked as he placed his hands on his hips.

The smith looked a little sheepish, "Aye, but I may have covered my eyes a time or two," his face brightened, "Forget about that, though; I have your sword!"

The smith ran back into his workshop, and Tarquin was left alone with the princess' bodyguard. Tamara was her name, and she crossed her arms and sniffed, "You left your sword with this man? Why?"

Tarquin nodded, "It's a nice sword, and it's sentimental to me," he answered with a smile as the smith came out to him once more.

"I polished it up for you, and sharpened it a bit, too," the smith said proudly as he handed the weapon, sheath, riggings and all, to the mercenary.

Tarquin took the weapon gratefully and nodded, "I appreciate it immensely."

"There's something else, hang on..." Ambol dug in his pockets and handed the mercenary a pouch, "Your half of the winnings."

"Aha, many thanks, friend!" Tarquin took the pouch and tucked it away neatly.

"You placed a bet on yourself?" Tamara asked with a wry grin as she raised her eyebrow.

"No, that would be cheating!" Tarquin pretended to look offended. "He did," he thumbed over to the smith. "My sword was collateral, in the event that I lost."

The bodyguard laughed, "You're a merc through and through, huh? Picking up that scratch any time you can."

Tarquin shrugged and faced the smith, "My friend, I may never see you again, but it's been an honor knowing you."

Ambol shook Tarquin's hand heartily, "Likewise. Good luck on your travels."

Tarquin spent several hours in the city as he was escorted here and there to buy supplies for his next journey. A few people recognized him and hailed him loudly, and the mercenary hailed them back with a grin.

"The idea is to keep a low profile," Tamara uttered to him after it had happened several times.

"I doubt it's going to make much of a difference; in any case, it's not very often that I get greeted with such warmth," he chuckled, "It's fun."

The demon warrior rolled her eyes and chuckled along with him "You're one of the most incorrigible humans I've ever met; how do you survive?"

Tarquin scratched his head, "That word goes a little outside my known vernacular, but I'm assuming you mean that I'm flippant?"

"Yes, very."

"Ah, well, that's the secret," Tarquin replied as a matter of fact as he approached a vendor selling tack, "The only way a man like myself can survive is by not thinking about surviving. Doing otherwise makes life perfectly droll and boring. You have a reason for doing what you do, and your goal is clear, mine..." he sighed as he examined a new set of tack for Axis, "I just don't know."

Tamara nodded after a moment, "The princess was quite taken by you, I can see why."

"Oh, what did she say about me?" He smirked at the woman, who was at least as tall as he was.

Tamara smiled, "Nothing, I heard her screams."

Tarquin actually found himself blushing slightly, "Ah... well, it was, honestly... a real privilege."

The bodyguard's face became serious, "I haven't seen her that happy in a very long time, not since her mother passed."

Tarquin gestured to the merchant and held up the set of tack he was holding. As he dolled out the money for it, he said, "She's quite the woman."

"Indeed she is," Tamara turned and walked with Tarquin as they made their way way to the main keep, "Which is why, for her sake, I hope you don't return any time soon."

"I wasn't thinking to; I assumed I wouldn't be particularly welcomed."

The bodyguard nodded, "Already we are being watched. The king won't have you killed publicly, especially in broad daylight, but there's a reason I'm here."

Tarquin had never had an escort before, but he was glad for the experienced woman's company as they came closer to the keep.

Within thirty minutes, Tarquin was reunited with Axis in front of the city gate. He'd become quite attached to his reptilian mount and he frowned as the raptor shirked away his pettings and sweet talk, "Aw, I'm sorry buddy," he told the raptor as he held up the tack, "I even brought a bribe for you."

Axis was clearly off put by having been left in a foreign stable for nearly two days, and he didn't take as much of a shine to the bribe as Tarquin had hoped. Still, he allowed his rider to fit him with the new bridle and was mounted and ready a moment later.

Tamara, who had brought him the raptor from the keep's stables, petted the creature with a smile before looking up at Tarquin, "The king gave me a message for you, mercenary."

Tarquin furrowed his brow as he readied Axis' reigns, "Not surprising. What's his say?"

"He doesn't want you to return... ever," she put emphasis on the last word.

"That's not surprising. has he banned me from Makdesh, then?"

"Not officially, and he knows better than to do something like that. Still, if you do return, we can't guarantee your safety, so it may be best to heed his word."

Tarquin nodded once as he reached down and took Tamara's hand, "I understand, and I appreciate everything you and your comrades have done for me; be steady, Tamara."

She shook his hand firmly and smiled, "Be steady, raptor rider."

He urged Axis forward through the open gate and rode out into the countryside.

It took six weeks for Tarquin to arrive at the next country on his map. It was all too easy for him to fall back into old habits, and by the time he arrived, he was looking quite scraggly.

The journey itself had gone smoothly enough, and the days always ran over each other as they camped and rode. In the more populated areas of the continent, it was a well known fact that anyone who rode a raptor was not the kind of person one would want to attempt an ambush upon, and he was fairly certain that he'd passed a few highwaymen on the way through, but no had made a move.

The name of the country he arrived at was called Carthesis, and the capital city within, Carth. Carth was very different from Makdesh in many ways, and the vast majority of its populus were human. The city was, essentially, run by pure aristocracy, and nobles were not noble by blood but by money.

In order for citizens to achieve a higher standard of living, they were required to buy their way into a higher tier of nobility. The amount of income and liquidatable assets that a person possessed was directly equivalent to their social status, and so the entire country was driven by trade and greed.

Interestingly, there were many citizens who had no interest in moving their way up the social ladder, and many tradespeople avoided the stress of higher tiered living by deliberately staying in a lower tax bracket.

Incidentally, as Tarquin rode in to the supposedly lesser side of town, it suited him just fine.

He asked around for a barber and got a quick answer, then headed straight there. It was midday, and as Tarquin dismounted Axis the sun shone in his eyes. He covered his face and laughed as he nearly got tangled in his own beard, then he headed inside, hoping to get a little more than just a shave.

"That's quite the story, mercenary, but...two Lancers?" The barber asked incredulously as he ran a straight razor against Tarquin's cheek expertly.

"I didn't say you had to believe me, but it's true," A much less hairy looking Tarquin chuckled. He leaned back in the chair and changed the subject, "I travel so much, it's difficult for me to keep track of who's who where; you have a king, yes?"

"A president, actually, but he might as well be, seeing as he's had the seat for over a decade. His name is Havro Nielson; you really must be a wanderer not to know that." it was the barber's turn to chuckle. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, actually, I've heard some stories about how your country is trying to handle the race crisis," Tarquin paused, "Seems a little extreme."

The barber nodded, "Aye, and it's not working, not really. You can't tell people who sleep in the same bed not to put their hands on each other; and even if it was illegal, humans are still going to be human."

Tarquin frowned. He has hoped that the rumors he'd heard weren't true, but it seemed that they were. Carth's council was attempting to keep their population at a minimum until the race crisis had been solved, and so they were actually trying to stop their citizens from having unnecessary relations. Tarquin very much doubted that such an absurd undertaking had been fruitful (or effective) but the stigma placed around his reason for being there would only make his life that much harder.

He tried to play off his concern by casually remarking, "How is the king's, er, president's, daughter handling that rule?"

"Daughter? You mean daughters," the barber corrected him with a chuckle. "They aren't happy about it from what I've been told. None of them have married, but I'd wager the eldest is the least happy about it."

Tarquin blinked, "How many daughters does the president have?"

"You don't know? Havro Neilson has been trying to have a son for over two decades. He's tried with dozens of women, but he's only claimed nine as his own children. All of them are girls."

"Havro has nine daughters?!" Tarquin's eyes went wide.

"Yep, and all of them are under the age of thirty five. I think his oldest is thirty one. I tell ya, one woman is enough for me, too much sometimes. Actually..."

Tarquin barely heard the man as he swallowed hard, nine daughters? How the hell am I supposed to know which one to fuck?!