The Feast of the Masked Dancers

Through the door was a study, lit by a lantern. An oak desk stood before an ornate window looking down onto the streets behind the tavern. Shelves were filled with ledgers, documents and the occasional scroll.

Sat at the desk was an older man who looked like he was in his sixties, a thick head of grey hair and a finely groomed moustache. He was dressed in a black frock coat and shirt with white trousers and black boots, like a wealthy merchant. His dark eyes were fixed on him with a keen interest.

"And who might you be?"

"Jack. And you are Arten Breivig?

"Crystina sent you?"

"She thought you might be interested in some artwork I found."

Arten frowned.

"Crystina? What is she doing nowadays? I have not heard that name in years."

"She lives in a hut the woods, just past the farmland near Breagor. I have no idea what she is doing out there, but she thought you would be interested in a painting I found."

"Well," said Arten, raising his eyebrows, looking past Jack. He seemed wistful. It was obvious to Jack that there was some history between these two.

"It sounds like Crystina is playing the role of village witch to the fullest now," Arten continued.

"She is definitely involved in magic, yes," replied Jack, wondering if he was going to show an interest in this painting before having him kicked out. "Her hut is full of herbs and other oddities."

"Interesting," said Arten, before focusing his gaze back on Jack. "And she said you had a painting to show me?"

"Yes, it's right here."

Arten watched as Jack pulled the rag-covered painting out of his backpack. He unravelled it and placed it before him.

Arten gasped. His expression went from dull annoyance to stunned disbelief, as his eyebrows nearly hit the ceiling. He reached forward and ran his fingers across the nude form of Lucy.

"You said you found this?" said Arten, not taking his eyes from the painting.

"Yes. It was hidden in an ancient chapel to Abasis, deep in the woods east of Breagor."

Arten picked up the painting and looked at it. Then he looked back at Jack.

"Do you know who this is?"

"Crystina told me she was a masked dancer from long ago, someone called Lucy Bellevue. I understand she was very popular back in her day."

Arten let out a laugh, the first jovial thing Jack had seen him do.

"Yes," said Arten. "You could say that."

Arten put the painting back on the table.

"Fine. So let's discuss payment. How much do you want for it?"

Jack suddenly realized that he hadn't thought about this at all. He looked at the painting as though appraising it's value, stalling while he thought of a number.

"I would say, 100,000 gold coins would be a good price of a piece of work of this quality."

Arten smiled. Jack instantly knew he had gone too low.

"Done," said Arten. He took a sheet of parchment from under his desk, took out a quill, dipped it in a pot of ink and started writing. He placed a stamp in the corner of the parchment.

Arten handed Jack the parchment.

"Here," he said. "Hand this in to the Karisella Vault, just across the plaza."

Jack looked at the parchment. It read: "I, Arten Breivig, promise to pay the bearer the sum of 100,000 gold coins." Below it was his signature, and a coat of arms, stamped in the same ink. Jack withheld his excitement.

"Tell me Jack, do you have somewhere to stay tonight?"

"I haven't sorted anything out yet, no. I have only just arrived."

Arten raised his eyebrows.

"You didn't book in advance? A risky move. Why don't you stay here? One week, on the house."

"I would appreciate that, thank you," said Jack.

"Talk to the barman, he will sort you out with a room."

"Thank you, Arten. But one thing before I leave. Am I right in thinking that you know the woman in the painting?"

"You're very perceptive. She is my wife."

"Your wife? Crystina gave me the impression that this woman was long dead by now."

"She did pass away. A long time ago now. That painting is not as old as you might have been led to believe."

"I am sorry to hear that. I take it Crystina knew her as well?"

"Yes, she did. We all met while studying at the Grand College. A very long time ago."

The thought occurred to Jack that if Crystina and Arten met at University, then how old was Crystina? She didn't look as old as Arten. He quickly put that thought out of his mind.

"Then how did this painting end up in an ancient chapel in the woods?" asked Jack.

"I have no idea. I suspect Christina might, though. This is a relic from a very brief period in Lucy's life. I suspect she hid it there, wanting to put those days behind her. I don't know," Arten waved his hand. "Now, I'm very busy at the moment, other matters to attend to. Tell the barman you have a room in the upper floors."

Jack left the office, holding the parchment, still a little stunned as he headed down towards the bar.

He spent his silver coins on a drink and a meal in his new quarters, with a wide balcony overlooking the plaza. The lamp lit room had a four poster bed and a dresser, with a rug that used to be an animal of some kind.

Behind him through a doorway was an adjoining ensuite bathroom behind an elegant tapestry, depicting nude ladies bathing.

Jack stood on the balcony with his flagon of wine, watching the drunken crowd, roaring with laughter at the dancing dwarves on stage. Now that his prayers had been answered, he wondered what he was going to do with 100,000 gold.

He looked over at the balconies adjacent to him. Humans and elves in their high-born finery, were stood as he was, chatting and laughing. Some of them noticed him and raised their flagons, shouting something in an unfamiliar language. Jack raised his flagon back and smiled. He suddenly felt very self-conscious about his attire.

As he slept that night on a pillow of goose feathers, he knew that the next morning, his first purchase would be a new set of clothes to reflect his newfound wealth. And then he was going to see those masked dancers.

In the offices of the vault, Jack was met with a bored-looking clerk who suddenly became a lot friendlier when he saw the parchment from Arten. Jack immediately had the gold transferred to his new account.

"Tell me young man," said Jack on concluding their business, "could you recommend me a decent tailor in this City?"

"You want to talk to Ka-Runir Erlshade. He is one of the finest elven tailors this side of Grennskogur. He does fantastic work for humans as well."

Jack thanked the clerk and headed off through the plaza to the streets behind The White Horse, to find this elven tailor who caters to humans. Gold is a wonderful thing, he thought to himself as he wandered through the crowd. When you have it, suddenly everyone in the city wants to be your friend.

Jack entered the tailor's shop. It was a small, unassuming building. Mannequins adorned with frock coats and other tunics filled the small, lantern-lit workshop. Ka-Runir the elven tailor regarded him with curiosity when he wrote out a cheque for an outfit that would be ready for that evening.

The slim, white-haired elf looked like he was Jack's age, although he was probably more than twice as old as he was. He used the tape measure with speed and grace.

"So, you have just come into some new gold, have you?"

Jack couldn't quite read him. He thought there might have been some judgement in his tone.

"I have. I sold some artwork for a significant amount."

The elf raised his eyebrows.

"So you're an artist?"

"No. I got lucky, that's all. I found an antique painting and sold it to a collector."

"Ah," said Ka-Runir. "Relying on fortune alone can be dangerous. Everyone is going to want a piece of you now."

"What do you mean?"

"Some people will want to be part of your lifestyle. Others will want your money, by whatever means necessary, if you understand me."

"That's fine," said Jack. "Those problems I can deal with. Better than dying in poverty."

The elf smiled.

"I agree. Your coat, shirt and leggings should be ready by sundown. Come back then, and you will be ready for tonight's festivities"

Jack thought to himself how astonishingly fast elves can work.

He thanked Ka-Runir and left, walking into the crowded streets of Bremasdon. He had enough time to get a haircut and a shave, before entering the beer halls, crowded with drunks of all races, aggravating the town guard.

Jack noticed a lot of militia types among the crowds in the beer halls. Some were obviously off-duty town guard. Others were less recognizable, but wore uniform-like insignia on their clothes, carrying swords at their waists. Mercenaries perhaps. The local whores would walk right past Jack, and sit on their laps.

As the sun set, Jack collected his new outfit from Ka-Runir, and returned to the tavern to put them on. His shirt was turqoise with gold trimming, beneath a purple frock coat also trimmed with gold. The light material felt strange against his skin.

His black trousers were made of a similar material, fitting him perfectly. They went well with his boots. Perhaps, he thought, these trousers were magically enchanted to look great with anything -- even his common labourer boots.

When Jack walked downstairs, he noticed a couple of exceptionally beautiful Lace whores turn to look at him from their positions at the bar. A few of the merchants sat at the tables stopped talking trade and turned to look at him with curiosity.

Jack strolled out of the tavern and into the night air. For once he didn't feel out of place in the well-heeled crowd, that was making it's way towards the hill on the eastern edge of the city, near the coastline. He followed that crowd through the streets, past the street entertainers and crowded bars.

The hill itself was surrounded by wooden barriers, guarded by more town guards, facing a raucous crowd. The lights of the city were in the distance now, and the crowd spilled out onto the beach.

On the hill was a band, mainly human, lit up by a large series of mounted lanterns dotted around the perimeter of the dancing area.

In the distance, Jack could see the lights of several vessels, docked by the harbour. They were all pleasure vessels, their sails and hulls gleaming white in the light from the City.

The silhouette of a lone robed figure appeared on the hill. The crowd cheered. Jack knew this was the Head Sorcerer of the Bremasdon Court, advisor to Lord Roderick, and the latest successor to Phalinos the First Sorcerer. The professors of all traditions of magic studied at the Grand College all answered to him. And it was his job to walk the masked dancers up to the hill as Phalinos himself did.

The Head Sorceror waved to the crowd as he waited for the cheers to die down. The man's features were barely discernable from this distance. Jack had no idea who he was, never having taken an interest in the courtly intrigues of Bremasdon.

"Greetings everyone!" his voice boomed out to the crowd. "Tonight, on this second night of the Feast of the Masked Dancers, I bring to you the lovely Adela Altichioro!"

He walked back into the shadows as another robed figure emerged onto the hill. The band started playing a percussive beat. Without breaking stride, she threw off her robe to the cheers of the crowd.

The first thing Jack noticed was how tall she was. Her legs were incredibly long and muscular. Her boots went half-way up her thighs, and looked metallic, like iron, but moved like they were leather. Definitely a human, judging by her height and bust.

She had a perfect hourglass figure, her wide hips clad in a high-waisted thong of a similar design to her boots. Her sizeable bust was supported by an exotic-looking bikini top, iron-black but lined with a gold material.

Her mask was interesting to Jack. It was just the face of a woman in reflective steel, with blank unstaring eyes and a strange headdress like two inverted triangles. Normally Jack would see a depiction of a God or Goddess, or an animal. He had no idea what this was, but it was interesting.

She began a gyrating dance to the beat. Jack noticed that behind the mask, she had a long braided ponytail of blonde hair that nearly went down to her ass. The thong left nothing to the imagination - her ass was as finely toned as her thighs, and as curvaceous as her breasts.

Adela kept the dance going as the crowd got louder, arousing the lust of the audience. When she finally whipped off her top, that lust reached a fever pitch, as her huge breasts could be seen from the hill top. Some men scrambled to the front to get a better look.

Jack was mesmerized by her huge tits, dancing in the light of the lanterns. For once he didn't envy the town guard, having to keep their eyes on the crowd and their backs to the performance.

Finally, the music stopped. Adela bent over to pick up her top. Jack couldn't take his eyes off her tits, sagging down as she leaned forward. She stood back up and waved to the cheering crowd with her top in her hand.

Then Jack turned to see a pair of large, circular eyes bearing down on him, and a wide fanged grin.

"She's a fair one, isn't she?" the anacot rasped at him. "Moves with the grace of an elf, yet has the tits and ass of a lace whore."

The anocot was a short-hair, golden-coloured, clad in the black leather armour of a mercenary group -- a human mercenary group. Jack had never seen an anacot recruited into a human milita.

"Well put," replied Jack. "You have fine taste in human women for an anocot."

"Thank you," said the anacot. "And you are an interesting human specimen yourself. A man in the fine clothes of an elf, with the blade of a commoner tied to your belt."

"This is no common blade," Jack replied. "I have killed many with this sword. It has been by my side through many a terrible conflict."

Jack thought of the fleeing ratten whose skulls he crushed.

The anocot's eyes gleamed at him with renewed interest.

"You talk like a warrior, thinking of your blade like it's a companion rather than a mere tool. We should spar some time!"

"You're a curious specimen yourself," said Jack, changing the subject. "An anocot in the uniform of a human milita. How did you come to be recruited into a human army?"

"Come to the beer tent," said the anocot, grinning. "We shall talk some more."

The anocot towered over the crowd as he led Jack towards a crowded marquee.

"I am Rolphus," he introduced himself. "Swordsman of the The Red Company."

"Well met. I am Jack of Breagor."

They reached the beer tent. Jack was distracted by the sight of a group of men pouring an entire flagon of ale into the mouth of a reclining half-naked orc, who looked as though he could barely stand up. The small crowd cheered when he swallowed it all with a loud belch.

"To answer your question Jack, I was never recruited by the Red Company. They arrived in a ship at my village on the coast of Anacot country, and set up camp nearby. I watched them with their swords and their armour. I decided I would rather be one of them than my kindred, who spend all day sitting around, licking their own genitals. I wanted to leave my village, see Leinyere, and experience the rush of combat. I wanted to meet other people, see their villages, and lick their genitals!

So I expressed my desire to join them by giving them a gift. I left the village and hunted down this massive lizard I saw on a rock. I killed it with my bare claws, tore it's throat out!"

Rolphus mimicked the action of tearing a lizard's throat out.

"And then I dragged it's dead body back to their camp and presented it to them as a gift. I threw the dead lizard to them, and bowed, introducing myself. I told them the lizard was a gift, but they didn't seem to understand, and told me to fuck off.

So when they left, I followed them north into the lands near the Grey Wood. What they were doing there, I had no idea, but there were camps filled with orcs.

It didn't matter what they were doing. When the fighting broke out, I joined. I surprised an orc, tearing his throat out from behind, like I did that lizard. Then I stole this rapier, and went into the fray.

The Company seemed surprised to see me, but were too busy fighting to say anything. I took out five orcs, bloodying this stolen sword. They let me join their camp after that."

"Interesting," said Jack. "So you're like an honorary Company member."

"You could say that," said Rolphus. "Although sometimes, I'm not sure if they keep me around for my swordsmanship, or my entertainment value. They teach me sword fighting because watching an anocot wield a sword is funny for some reason."

"So what are you doing here in Bremasdon?"

"I was invited aboard one of the Lord's own pleasure vessels, docked over in the pier."

"Really? How did you get such an invitation?"

"I am very popular with the ladies of the court."

"And how the hell did you gain this reputation?" asked Jack.

"In a recent campaign," began Rolphus, "Lord Roderick of Bremasdon had us fight his orc enemies to the south. After destroying them and burning their camps, we went straight to the Lord's estate to receive our payment."

"Wait," said Jack. "Why are orcs attacking from the south?"

"I don't know," said Rolphus, seemingly unconcerned. "No one told me, and I never asked.

Anyway, we were allowed to stay a week in the wing of the castle where the servants slept.

It was here that I met one of the ladies of the court. I had seen them in the courtyards, but they never spoke to us.

One night, one of these ladies knocked on my door. A beauty she was. She greeted me by rubbing my head, right between my ears, and spoke to me in a strange, high-pitched voice. Like I was a young cotlil, a kitten. It was a bit patronizing, but I let it go because she was very attractive.

Before I could ask her what she wanted, she showed me a jar of honey. She kept asking me if I liked honey, putting it up to my nose as if I couldn't smell it from where I stood. It was all very strange. She asked me if I would like to try some. Of course I said yes out of politeness.

She walks into my room and puts the honey on the bedside table, sitting down on my bed. She then lifts her dress up. She is not wearing underwear. She spreads her legs, exposing her well-trimmed vagina to me, as if this was a completely normal thing to do.

She then dipped her fingers into the honey and started spreading it on her vagina. She then beckons me over. "Come on!" she says, like I'm a kitten being called for supper. "Don't you want some of this?"

I was utterly confused. I assume this is the customary way to take honey among humans."

"It isn't," said Jack. "This sounds like the beginning of a court scandal."

"Well, whatever it was, I wasn't complaining. It was after all, what I had set out to do when I left my village -- to taste the genitals of other races and cultures.

So, not wanting to breach the etiquette of human nobility, I licked the honey off her vagina, clean. She was purring the whole time."

"Women don't purr," Jack interjected.

"Well whatever she was doing, she was having a great time. Her vagina became moist with something that didn't taste like honey, and she suddenly got up, putting her dress down. She thanked me and left.

The following day, another noble woman showed up at my quarters with a jar of honey. We did it again. Word of my genital licking prowess had spread among the ladies of the court, and they all started showing up."

A bar wench arrived at their table with two flagons of ale. She wore a bodice over a low cut blouse that struggled to contain her breasts. Both Jack and Rolpus stopped to admire her immense cleavage. Jack wondered how these beer tents always managed to hire the bustiest women in the City. He politely thanked her, while Rolphus stared at her tits until she left.