Tears For The Dragon Ch. 02

The situation finally seemed to penetrate through their alcoholic haze. Mr. Beard looked as if he was going to make an objection, but Mr. Bald put a hand on his partner's shoulder and steered him away. In moments they were through the door and out into the night.

Petra finally managed to start breathing again as Gard reseated himself and picked up his ale. The ogre shook his head. "Damn. I hate having to do that. The aura itches something fearsome." He grinned across the table towards Petra's astonished face. "But it does have an effect, doesn't it?"

"Itchy or not...that was bloody sexy," purred Celia. "I knew there was somethin' more to you. You're a prince of some sort."

Gard smiled over at her with warmth. "I told you before, I'm not a prince."

"Maybe yer a, whaddyacall, Duke?"

"I am not royalty of any sort."

Celia grinned. "You know I'm gonna figure this out eventually, mate. Howzabout a general?"

"Ogres don't have generals."

The burglar leaned over and kissed Gard's shoulder. "Well, prince or general or whatever, you're gettin' a damn good shagging tonight. Call it a reward for bein' amazing."

__________________________________________________________

The coach rattled off down the road, leaving the four of them staring at a wrought-iron gate that was overgrown with vines. The gate stretched twenty feet above them, and was crowned by the word KATONA. The letters were formed of cunningly worked iron bars.

"Is this...the place?" asked Celia. She couldn't help asking, even though it was a bloody stupid question. In her defense, it didn't look like anyone had been through here in years.

"It is! Quite nice, yes-yes?" chirped Miklos with delight. He strode forward and produced a huge iron key from somewhere within his many layers of waistcoats and vests. The gate unlocked with a thick and rusty-sounding CLUNK. He swung one side of the gate open with a loud creak and then waved them all through.

The grounds inside the gate were equally overgrown. "Bit of a problem with ivy," said Miklos as they trudged along. "Unfortunately need full-time gardener to keep it in check." They rounded a bend in the gravel road and saw the Katona family manor for the first time.

It wasn't a ruin. To Celia, that was the best thing that could be said about it. The manor had once been...white, maybe? It was now more of a pale yellow. The overall shape was rectangular, and there were many windows with semicircular tops arranged in rows along its walls. Most of the windows appeared intact, which was another bonus. At the manor's corners there were large towers topped with black conical roofs. In front of the house was a circular gravel driveway for coaches. The center of that driveway held what once was a row of planters. But now it was just a bit of greenery choked with more vines. The ivy also grew up the walls of the manor, adding to the abandoned air of the place.

Celia held her tongue. She was getting paid more money for this one job than she'd ever seen in her life, and if it meant that she had to go squat in some moldy house somewhere for a bit then she'd do it with a smile.

The four of them trouped up to the front. There were several shallow steps leading up to the pair of massive wooden doors, and Miklos strode up to them with ease and rapped sharply on the door with his knuckles. There was a very long pause, and just as Celia began to ask if anybody was home there was a long squeak as one of the doors slowly swung open.

The face that peered around the door reminded Celia of a buzzard she'd once seen. The man was completely bald, and his throat was wattled with age. He had a nose that gave Miklos' own prominent beak a run for its money. The man blinked pale blue and watery eyes in the light streaming in from outside. If he was put off by the profusion of different humanoid shapes on the porch, he gave no indication of it.

His watery eyes focused on Miklos. "Sir, it is very good to see you back." His voice was firm, in sharp contrast to his eyes. The man stood back from the door and Miklos strode in with a nod.

"Very good to see you as well, Finlay," said Miklos with smile. "How have you been?"

"I have been well, sir," replied Finlay. The servant stood and watched with utter non-surprise as the rest of them trouped in behind Miklos. Finlay was clad in a black suit that was made of fine silk...but which had also been patched and repaired many times

"These are my companions," said Miklos as he waved at them all. "Petra Varadi, Gard Hansen, and Celia Darrington. They will be staying for at least two months. Oh, and I will be expecting two others, who will be arriving shortly by air."

Celia was by now watching this 'Finlay' character very closely. And yet he gave not a twitch of surprise at the 'by air' part.

"Very good, sir," said Finlay smoothly. He looked them all over. "Perhaps Lord Viktor's old suite for the larger gentleman? I believe the bed should be large enough to suffice."

"Of course," said Miklos. He pulled out a bulging coin purse and handed it to the servant. "Have secured funds for provisions. One of the guests yet to arrive has a...rather large appetite. Need to be fully stocked. Also need to clean out the carriage house for her."

Finlay gave the Duke a low bow. "I shall see to it sir, after I show your companions to their rooms."

Miklos patted him on the shoulder. Celia half expected to see a puff of dust rise up from the ancient servant's clothes. "No need, no need. Will take care of them myself, yes-yes?"

As Finlay walked off, Celia half expected to hear his knees creak. But the old fella seemed to move pretty good in spite of his age.

She then turned and looked at the rest of the room. The entrance hall was gloomy and only lit by some dirty windows along the front of the manor. A wide sweeping staircase led to the upper story, and the stairs themselves were covered with a threadbare carpet. The lower half of the walls were covered with dark wood paneling that was now faded and broken in a few places. A massive and ornate chandelier hung above them. But the candles in it were long gone and had been replaced by spiderwebs. Every surface she could see was covered in dust.

"It's very...quaint," she finally said.

Miklos was already bustling up the stairs. "Of course, very historic building! Every Katona heir for the last three hundred years has been born here."

Celia shouldered her pack and followed the Duke. She saw there were paintings along the walls beside the staircase. She stopped suddenly by one which showed a soldier on a horse. Her profession tended to focus on smaller and more easily-fenced items, but Celia also knew about famous (and expensive) paintings.

"This can't be right," she said softly. "I've seen this one before. In the Temple, here in Vasalat."

Miklos came bustling back. He smiled as he stood next to her and regarded the painting. "Quite good, eh? Painted this from memory."

By now Gard had joined them and was looking at the painting as well. His head was right over her own, and Celia resisted the urge to reach up and fondle one of his ears. She knew by now all of his ticklish spots.

"You painted this?" asked the ogre.

"Of course!" replied the Duke. "Such reproduction is main profession."

Celia gave a belly laugh. "Oh, that's rich, mate. Yer a forger."

Miklos looked mildly offended at the term. "Not as such. Provide ability for others to see great works of art that might otherwise be locked away. Sometimes...rewarded for showing such consideration."

__________________________________________________________

Metternich had subtly interrogated the king over the last few days. He'd mentioned the growing unrest regarding Timea, and the steps that he was taking to head it off. And he'd not seen the slightest flicker of recognition in the ruler's eyes. He seriously doubted that Bognar had even bothered to get the girl's name before taking her virtue. The king certainly wouldn't remember what she looked like. So that was one possible issue taken care of.

The remaining issue was now coming through the door to Metternich's office. The agent's name was Henrik, and this was going to be the hardest part of the whole plan. Metternich hated getting rid of good help. This tow-headed young man had been a very good agent in the past. But now he was nothing but a liability.

"Henrik! Thanks for coming so late. Please, shut the door and have a seat. I apologize for not getting up, but I'm utterly swamped."

Henrik smiled. "That's all right, sir." He seated himself with a casual motion.

Metternich motioned to a tray set upon one corner of his desk. The tray had some bread and cheese, along with a bottle of wine and a glass. "Care for a something to eat? I usually don't indulge while working, but I had to dine here in the office."

"I, well...certainly, sir. Thanks so much." Henrik leaned over and placed a slice of cheese on a piece of bread and began chewing both with satisfaction.

Metternich poured a glass of wine. "I forgot to tell them to not bring the wine. I'm still working and I need a clear head." He pushed the glass over to sit in front of Henrik. "But feel free to indulge if you like."

He didn't miss the hungry glance that Henrik gave the glass, and he felt a little relaxation upon seeing that. It was only a matter of time now.

"What is this regarding, sir?" asked Henrik. He took another bite of his bread and cheese.

"A few weeks ago, you made a report to me on the king stopping a servant girl and asking her to attend to him in his bedchamber."

Henrik finished chewing and swallowing. "Ah, yes sir. I believe I remember the incident. Was there anything further you wished to know?"

"Did you find out the girl's name?"

The agent coughed, and almost automatically reached for the glass. He took a swig to wash down his snack. "No, sir. But I would be able to recognize her if need be."

Metternich scribbled something on the paper in front of him. It was actually nothing but scribbles; all of his attention was on the agent seated before his desk. "Good. Does the name 'Timea' sound familiar?"

"It does, sir." Henrik took another swig. "I believe I've heard the name from those in the general populace. She was apparently someone who worked in the palace and disappeared..." His eyes widened. "Oh, dear."

Metternich looked up with a half-smile. "Oh dear is right. I am still trying to get a detailed description of Timea so that we can both know for certain. Have you told anyone else about this?"

"Of course not, sir. This was on the job, after all. It's not a subject for gossip." Henrik sat with fear and curiosity warring on his face. "Sir, if it...well, if it does turn out that Timea was indeed the girl I saw, then what do we do?"

"What *you* do is follow my lead," said Metternich smoothly, and then he smiled. "Don't worry. I'm sure we'll get a description and find out that it isn't what we fear. But in the meantime I wanted to make absolutely certain that there were no unsavory rumors that could be attached to the king."

Henrik nodded. "Of course, sir. I understand completely. I've kept quiet and I'll continue to keep quiet. If I can be of any service, just let me know."

Metternich looked more closely and saw Henrik's eyes beginning to droop as the poison took effect. "My dear Henrik," he said, "I think that, for the moment, all you need to do is keep your silence. I have every faith in your discretion."

__________________________________________________________

The next day the team all pitched in to clean out the carriage house next door to the main manor. It was over Finlay's objections, but they'd gently shooed the butler out of the building and kept working. It appeared that Finlay was the only servant left in the manor, and while he was doing well for his age he was only one man. The carriage house had apparently been used as storage for decades, and was mostly filled with unused furniture and broken pottery. Celia found a couple of valuable-looking trinkets tucked away here and there in the debris, and instead of pocketing them she handed them over to Miklos. It gave her a pang of regret to give up such easy cash, but it would be kind of rude to steal stuff from the guy while he was letting them stay there.

That night there was a substantial thump on the ground outside the manor. The team had been waiting for it, of course. Celia would have been the first out the door, but somehow Finlay got there ahead of them all.

As Celia flowed out of the door in a crouch, she saw the butler standing tall in the moonlight like a black-clad scarecrow. He looked up at the dragon that had just landed in the driveway with his usual utter lack of surprise.

"Are you expected, Madame?" Finlay asked of the bloody great lizard looming over him.

Emsari raised one scaly eyebrow. "Er, yes, my good man."

Then the Duke came all but running out of the door. "It's all right, Finlay. These are the two remaining guests I spoke of, yes-yes?"

"Two?" asked Finlay, just as Tibor got himself unlatched from his flying harness. The young mage slid off of Emsari's back and into view. Finlay nodded to him. "Ah, I see. Very good, sir. Shall I show Madame to her lodgings?"

"Our lodgings, actually," said Emsari. She curled a protective tail around Tibor.

"Of course, Madame. Please follow me."

As Finlay led Tibor and the dragon off to the carriage house, Celia leaned back against Gard. "One day, I'm gonna see that Finlay guy at a loss for words."

"Well, I wouldn't want to see that," replied Gard with a little laugh. "Because I think it's going to take something like the end of the world to accomplish it."

__________________________________________________________

Tibor was surprised at the 'pseudo-nest' that the team had managed to put together in the carriage house. Half of the space was now occupied by old feather mattresses, and on top of those was a profusion of cushions of all shapes and colors. It wasn't quite as plush as what was in the dragon's lair, but it looked perfectly comfortable...if a little dusty.

Emsari gave a rumble of approval. "Better than I expected." She stretched her neck in a graceful arc, which resulted in a a deep crackle from her vertebrae and a sigh of relief. "I'm exhausted from all of the flying, sweetie. Do you mind if we just sleep tonight?"

Tibor moved around behind her. "Not at all. Now put out your wing."

The dragon gave a little grumble of protest.

He wasn't having any of it. "Come on, now. You never stretch enough before flying. If I don't massage the kinks out now you'll be sore for a week."

Emsari sighed like a put-upon child. "Oh, fine." There wasn't quite enough space for her to unfurl her left wing fully, but it was enough for him to get at the muscles that attached the membranous appendage to her body. From previous experience, he knew that he couldn't use his fingers to get any muscle knots out. It would be like trying to squeeze steel cable. Instead, he had to pound his fists into her like he was tenderizing meat. Even then, such punching should have resulted in broken knuckles and torn skin...except that Tibor was no longer the normal man he'd once been.

He suspected it was due to having multiple dosages of dragon's milk. Twice he'd drunk directly from her breast, and once Emsari had slipped some into his drink when she'd been in a particularly silly and randy mood. Every time he'd been overtaken with a primal lust, and the subsequent fucking (and it was fucking, not making love) had left him raw and sore all over. But every time he'd come back stronger than before. He could now do pushups until he got bored. And he noticed that his skin was no longer prone to cuts or scrapes.

When Tibor had asked Emsari directly about his changes, she'd given him a draconic grin and claimed ignorance. Oh, well. At least he could now give her a proper massage. He smiled to himself at her little squeaks and moans of protest. He knew just how to take her mind off of the pain.

"Who's the toughest and the strongest dragon of them aaaaalll?" he asked in a slightly sing-song voice while he pounded his fists into her.

There was a little pause before Emsari responded quietly. "I..I am."

"Who's got the biggest and the shiniest hoard of them aaaaalll?"

Another pause. "I do."

"Who's got the prettiest scales and the most graceful tail of them aaaaalll?"

There was no pause this time. "I do." She shuddered a little bit, and not from the pain.

"Who's my big scary, sexy, and most wonderful dragon?"

She gave another, larger shudder. "I am."

He patted the root of her left wing. "Damn right. Now open your right wing."

By the time he was done pounding on the other wing's muscles, Emsari was damn near purring. She turned to him with dilated eyes and flared nostrils. It was a look he knew very well by now.

"I thought someone was all tuckered out from flying," he said with a smile.

"That was before someone decided to manhandle me and get me all worked up," she replied. The dragon's tail whipped around him and threw him into the center of the nest. He was ready for it, and managed to shuck his trousers off before Emsari fell on him.

The dragon rumbled and rubbed her belly against his. Her tits were right in Tibor's face, so he took advantage of the opportunity to lick and gently nibble on one of her nipples.

"Who's the one who's about to get his braaaaiins fucked out?" growled Emsari in an imitation of Tibor's sing-song tone.

Tibor left off his ministrations to reply. "I am," he said with a smile. Her softer belly scales had a subtle ribbed texture to them, and as they slid along his member he became rapidly erect.

"Damn...right." Emsari gave a little groan as she rose up a little and then impaled herself.

Tibor gripped her flanks and groaned as well. Her insides were hot, they felt damn near boiling. He was amazed once more how tight she was in spite of her larger size. And then he gave another, louder groan as her pelvic muscles squeezed him even tighter.

He felt her hand stroke his head, and he looked up to meet her huge red eyes. By now, Tibor was now an expert at reading draconic facial expressions. He saw nothing but love and affection in her face. Then she growled louder as she began to move.

Tibor couldn't do anything other than hold on and try to match her rhythm as she bounced on his shaft. He was jiggling around too much to try to attend to her breasts. His cock was gripped and massaged as she slid on and off him with a quickening beat. Emsari must have been truly horny, because it seemed like only a short while before she gave one final slam down on him and shook in climax. The dragon gave out a happy squeak while she trembled, a tiny sound greatly at odds with her size.

Then she relaxed and looked down at Tibor again with a little smile on her face. "Aw, my little bauble didn't come yet."

He patted her thigh. "It's okay, we can go again in a bit..."

Tibor yelped as she reached down and grabbed his torso with both hands. He was unceremoniously pulled out of her with a wet squelch as she raised him up and pinned him against the wall of the carriage house. He was now level with her eyes, and he saw them fully dilated with lust. For one little moment he knew what it felt like to be a mouse being played with by a cat.

Her thick tongue slithered out and licked up his face, leaving a trail of hot saliva. Then her tongue moved lower, roving over his bobbing and erect shaft and then probing lower. It pressed in between his thighs, and its tip probed between his ass-cheeks while the thicker portion of her appendage wetly cradled his balls.

Tibor gave a gasp and jerked as her tongue-tip gave his rear pucker a firm press, then her tongue retreated and slid back up and around his shaft. The warm, textured embrace of that organ on his cock made Tibor squirm.