Trysha & Sebau

The idea that even the clergy needed human companionship and consolation was a growing ill ease these days with the people. It was both unfortunate and becoming all too common; especially in such days when human numbers were low and cities lay waste in ruin and rubble. Trysha, massaged a chill from her arms, mentally pushing away the loneliness and sadness such thoughts brought upon her. The level of consolation for one small group of people—the priests—to bear was growing increasingly heavy. To try to lighten the days of others, and to try to keep a positive front, and to be expected to do so with only the consolation of one's faith, was becoming an impossible burden.

Her mind wandered unbidden to battlegrounds that would not leave her nightmares. Places she had been. Visions she had seen. So many vicious battles scarred the land where broken bodies and skeletons of the fallen littered the countryside, their bones part of the landscape. What started the war? She couldn't remember. She did not want to remember. It had not even begun in her lifetime. It was not her quarrel. It wasn't even a war any longer. It was scattered skirmishes that flared up and refused to go away. It was conflicts made up of racial hatreds and clan scores with blood-pacts of vengeances that ran deep and would not be mended, wounds that would not heal—would not be allowed to heal.

No human or dwarven city was untouched. All gnomish cities were gone. What gnomes remained took refuge mostly in dwarven towns. Elven cities were barely whispers amongst trees a full continent and half a world away. So many families were torn asunder, shred apart like paper and withering in the rain. Decay and disease obliterated any who remain behind unslain, yet they were just as beset under the foot of armies on both sides. Entire clans were exterminated in single clashes.

So many surviving peoples of all races were in need of comfort of all kinds: emotional, spiritual, physical. Humans were so few—while at the same time seemingly so many—and the clergy even fewer; so overwhelmed. So few to do the job presented to them by need beset upon them by the ravages of war from all sides. The people wanted leadership and they wanted their leadership undistracted by personal interests. It was a matter of time before the church buckled to the pressure of popular opinion and passed decree to forbid their leading members to seek the private company of others even to the point of spousal interests.

"A sad turn of events," Trysha murmured and sipped at her juice-sweetened tea. She set the bronze cup back down upon the splintery tabletop. The table was thick and dark and able to withstand many abuses as it bore deep gouges and stains and burn marks of many abuses already. The battered table reflected the mindset of its visitor.

Trysha watched patrons come and go from the common room of the inn, nodding her head at one or another as her dark eyes met this one or that in social accordance. She was a priestess of the Light of the Land and the everyday folk looked to her for spiritual comfort and social graces to which she was accustomed to providing, especially for the children. It was the children who fared the worse in these times of war. There were so many, many orphans. Trysha sighed, thankful that she was no orphan matron. That was the job of other good souls.

So many patrons moving through the inn today, young, old, she thought. There were those with grand designs on becoming mages, and a few others with skills of the darker arts alongside their summoned demonic pets. Although the warlocks were sinister denizens of darker powers their presence did not perturb the priestess of the Light, the war had made for some unusual alliances, of which warlocks and priests was one. Some powerful warriors walked side-by-side with their roughish companions, who were often enlisted in the armies as spies and scouts for their now-valued skills. Hunters were readily available along with their combat-trained animal companions. Occasionally, a dwarf wandered through with a grand snow leopard or wolf at his side. Other patrons of the inn were also clergy, but their numbers were few. Most of the patrons of the inn were paladins.

So many paladins, she mused.

Paladins came and went in droves these days because of the war. Their numbers continued to climb staggeringly. They came in younger and stronger and eager. But, unfortunately, most of them lacked the understanding of what they really stood for. Most of them were no more than glorified warriors. They were bullies with a shiny suit of armor who were promised a free horse when they passed the test of their paladinship. When they passed their test of vigil.

She watched as a fight broke out in street between new paladins. One of them in particular was bullying all-comers who passed by. He strutted about clucking like a chicken taunting those who refused him and laughed at those he deemed inferior.

Trysha felt her heart fight itself in her chest at the conflict of what paladins really stood for and of what the order had degraded into. A fraternity of mean, selfish, arrogant…

"Fruit or bread pastry, my lady priestess?" the innkeeper's wife asked her breaking the priestess from her contemptuous thoughts. Bread pastry was made available only because the little inn was so close to the capital city and it was well protected due to the closeness of the recruits' training grounds, but even it was prone to occasional raids.

"Please," Trysha replied with a brave smile. When she reached into her bag for copper to pay the woman pressed her hand closed to it.

"Not this time," she smiled. "It's been paid for."

"By whom?"

The woman indicated a rather good-looking man across the room near the large fireplace. "That young paladin over there," she said.

"A paladin? No."

"The lad's had his eye on you for a while now."

"I fear my appreciation for paladins is about as good as their order's reputation."

"I don't believe he knows your mind, miss," she smiled.

Trysha gazed over toward the paladin at the fireplace and nodded her thanks as the innkeeper's wife left her side. As she completed her nod the paladin slid his booted foot from the iron rail it rested on and made his way over to the benefactor of his generosity.

Trysha felt her throat constrict. No! Not this way, she thought. It was just a thank-you, not an invitation. By the Light he's yummy. No! Go away!

A smile warmed the young man's face. It was a smile that made his blue eyes sparkle. "Is the pastry to your satisfaction?"

Trysha swallowed hard. The fruit baked into the flaky bread was sticky and everything balled up into dough and absorbed all moisture in her mouth. She reached for her tea for more than a sip. Had she not froze socially the pastry would have been very much a delight. Swallowing was made easier with the tea but for her near choking on the fluid trying to go down the wrong pipe. "Oh! I—" she coughed. "I'm s-sorry."

His smile turned to surprise as he gently took her arm and made ready to pat her on the back. "Are you all right?"

Trysha nodded and sipped a bit more at her tea to clear the bread. "Sit," she motioned. "Please sit. I'm sorry. I'm just not accustomed to rich food."

"Everything is fine?" he asked, genuine concern showing on his face.

"Yes, yes," she said grabbing up the loose sleeve of her robe to cough into. She watched him move as he sat down. There was grace in his muscular lines as he moved. A noble, she thought.

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

He recomposed himself. His deep black hair rested in twin braids over the front of his armored shoulders framing a fair-complected face that, at present, was fixed in some unease. "This is not how I intended to make introductions."

"I've made things difficult, haven't I?" Trysha replied.

The paladin tilted his head as he looked back at her. "I've never seen a young woman with white hair like yours," he told her. "It's quite fetching. Especially against your darker skin."

Trysha felt herself straighten back taken completely by surprise. "Thank-you. I think."

"Amber," he said.

"What?"

"Your eyes," he said. "They're amber, not brown. Not really."

Trysha grabbed her tea, downed the whole thing and made ready to leave. "I have vespers I need to attend."

"It's early morning. Vespers aren't for hours. I do vespers too."

"I need time to prepare and reflect."

"You just got here."

"Don't you have a vigil to do? You're a paladin, right?"

He smiled again. "I'm not like any paladin you know."

Panic made Trysha's heart beat faster. He was staring her down. His eyes dared her to move. She knew that if she moved he would be in front of her serpent-quick. This was a man who when he knew what he wanted he went after it with no remorse. "Who are you?" she demanded in an attempt to regain her self-composure.

The paladin stood and bowed, metal and chain from his mail suit rattled as he moved. "Sebau en el Iskandaria, at your service, my dear lady." He gently took the trembling priestess by the hand and brushed his lips across the back tasting hints of fruit juice and tea along with the hint of her natural skin. The fingers of his other hand traveled lightly up the underside of her arm up from her wrist until she just shivered. "Might I have the pleasure of knowing who it is the company I have been graced with this morning?"

"Trysha," she said, envious that Sebau was a man who knew his lineage, who knew his family. She was orphaned young and raised by the church. She didn't even know if Trysha was her family given name from birth. By the Light, she thought, when this one wanted to he had noble graces. "Trysha Stuart, priestess of the House of Light."

Sebau continued to hold Trysha's hand. He tightened his grip slightly as he felt her try to pull away. "Trysha. What a rare pleasure," he told her enveloping her hand inside both of his and pulling her toward him. His eyes stayed focused on her face watching her expressions, watching her. She had no choice but to move toward him.

Trysha was beginning to realize that this paladin did in fact have a higher grasp on his knowledge of how to intimidate than most of his counterparts had. The fact that he used an unusual friendly manner unnerved her that much more. She would have sworn that her heart's pounding was making her priest's robe flutter upon her chest. "What is it I can help you with, Sir Sebau?" she asked.

"The possibilities boggle the mind," he grinned. With her sudden back step he pulled her forward. Her tiny gasp appeared to please him. Her eyes darted to and fro looking for something from his. With unfair strength he held her hand in only one of his without hurting her, with the other he drew it along the underside of her forearm. Then her brain re-processed what he had actually done. Sebau had held her arm and puller her closer by the hand to him. He pressed her hand against his chest plate. "I have a pain, here, that I believe you can help me with."

Trysha swallowed. Her hand pressed flat against his chest plate with his hand firmly on top of hers holding it in place. The metal was warm from his body heat. Before she realized it Sebau's other had was around her waist pulling her up close against him. Now, not only was her heart pounding in her ears deafening her, but her breathing was going out of her control. Blood tingled in her veins. How could this be happening?

Trysha gave a meager push against Sebau's chest. "Please, Sir Sebau," she breathed. "I don't care for paladins. They're-"

"Nor do I," Sebau agreed. "Most are pompous snobs who act like spoiled children, bully the less fortunate, beg for riches in return for nothing, demand what they do not deserve, and walk around acting as though they have pikes stuck up their backsides. They care for no one but themselves. They have no sense of chivalry. No sense of gentry. No sense of charity. No sense of camaraderie. It's because of the depths of the war that we've been hit and sheer desperation of the kingdom that is forced to recruit from the dregs of what we have left of society. Why, did you know there are those so-called paladins who are pressing to try to convince the higher-ups to permit the order to allow the use of ranged weaponry! Absurd! Where is the honor?"

Trysha blinked. Her thoughts echoed almost exactly in the words Sebau spouted so heatedly. "Honor…"

"Exactly! See, you understand." Sebau gazed down on Trysha. "I chose well."

Trysha felt her knees give way. Chose? The paladin who was beginning to prove himself to be unlike any other paladin she knew responded to her unexpected weight shift with an easy catch and a smile. "Sorry," she offered and tried to force herself back to her senses. She could hardly believe how forward the man was with her in a public place. "I really can't. There's a … an injunction taking place that restricts priests from—" Oh, Lights what a smile!

"What?"

"Huh?"

"An injunction that restricts priests from what?"

"Oh!" she rubbed her temple to clear her thoughts. "From what you're trying to maneuver me."

"Has it been approved yet?"

"No."

His smile took on a wicked charm. "Then, we must hurry."

"Hurry?" she objected as the paladin began to usher her upstairs. "But, sir, I've hardly said yes to anything!"

Sebau paused to take the priestess' chin gently in his fingers. "You are a delight. Did you just say yes?"

Trysha was stunned. "Well, yes, just a moment ago."

"Then what are we waiting for? Would you prefer my room or yours?"

"M-mine. But wait!" She stopped at the first landing in the stairs. When did we get to the stairs? "I barely know you. Sir Sebau, I am not some strumpet to be taken from the streets for a moment's pleasure. Nor am I a common woman who can be plucked at whim by a passing nobleman because of landed rights. I am a—"

Sebau stepped in close to her, took her face in his hands and pet her soft hair on one side. "You are an ordained priestess, a shield of the Light. I am a sworn paladin, a sword of the Light. One of the better ones, remember? We are of the same material, the same cloth. You are a healer of the faith. I am a defender of the same faith. If you fear for your honor it can be in no better hands." He bent to move his face close to hers. He lowered his voice to a near whisper, "And, right now the sight and the scent of you is driving me insane. Don't turn me away."

He spoke to her with respect and desire. The desire part Trysha had heard before, often, from higher-ranking priests and cathedral soldiers alike when they wanted the same thing from her. The respect was something unusual. That combined with his eagerness to get her upstairs had the effect of some curious magic on her. She turned and continued to her room.

"I don't have any squire training, so I will need some coaching on where some of your buckles are if we're going to get you out of some of this armor," Trysha surprised herself by saying as she closed the door to her inn room. Lights, please, please, don't make a fool of me by making this sweet-talker actually one of those dolts I hate. Please!

Sebau seemed so sincere downstairs, but then anyone could if they were clever enough and tried hard enough. Trysha would hate the world and everyone in it, and herself the most, if it turned out she was played a fool. After closing the door she turned and helped Sebau slide his dark cloak from his armor-bound shoulders. So wide, she thought, gazing on the man's shoulders from the back. She bit her lip. I can't believe I'm going through with this with a paladin.

Sebau turned to face her and wrapped a hand around one of her wrists and pulled her toward him into an embrace, into a kiss, their first kiss. She tingled and shivered uncontrollably as she felt one of his hands find its way into her robe gently seeking around for any bare skin inside. Her belt gave way allowing her robe to fall open. It fell to the floor exposing her kilt and shift she wore beneath it.

One layer gone, Sebau had only one layer to go. He moved one of her hands to a side buckle for her to work his chest piece. With the robe gone he could more easily view the curve of her chest beneath her shift as it teased him with its partial view down the front. Her chest appeared shapelier without the constriction of the robe. He saw that her dark skin also continued down her throat into what he could see of her breast.

Trysha had the side buckle undone and urged Sebau to snake through slipping the heavy thing off. She watched as he moved with practiced ease taking off the chest armor leaving only a red shirt beneath. His arms and chest strained the shirt in places as he moved. Trysha quickly slid her hands beneath the material to loosen it and had him slip through and it was off in a second. Her breath caught as she gazed upon hard, well-defined muscle and healed scars – life before healing magic and potions. She didn't realize she was biting her lower lip again.

"My turn," Sebau said and gripped the hem of her white shift and pulled her forward when her eyes widened. "Not shy are we?"

"Uh, well, actually," she stammered.

"Don't be," Sebau took her face in his hands and kissed her again. "So beautiful," he murmured.

Before Trysha knew it Sebau was kissing along her neck and her arms were over her head as her shift was sliding passed her face and then her elbows and away from her body. Sebau pulled her close. Her breasts pressed warmly against his chest as he distracted her with kisses.

He guided her hand to his belt. She had to stop kissing to see what she was doing more than a couple of times. "I told you I was no squire," she said lowly.

Sebau ran a hand through her snowy locks. "We can fix that," he told her. "A little more practice and no one will know the difference." He kissed the side of her head taking in her scent enjoying the softness of her hair. He stole a look at her bare chest; completely tan with pink nipples! "The leg pieces too, unless you only want to remove the codpiece."

"How difficult would that be on you? With just the codpiece gone, I mean?" she asked innocent enough.

"Minx!" Sebau grinned. His grinned faded quickly. "Ahem, it has to come off. Now!" He squirmed in discomfort until buckles came free and the codpiece at his groin loosened. He snickered at Trysha and pulled her to him, "Intentional or not, that one you pay for."

In a few short seconds Sebau had the strings of Trysha's kilt loosened and the kilt slipped down over her hips. Anything that was underneath her kilt had slipped down with it. Curls of white peeked up at him from the feminine Vee of Trysha's legs. Beneath the white curls were shades of pink flesh blushing, almost glowing, from below. Where Sebau was made uncomfortable moments ago he was aching now. "Oh my ancient gods, I have got to have you!"

Sebau crawled forward forcing Trysha down to her back on the bed beneath him. She reached up between them stopping his advance with her fingers to his lips. The moment allowed Sebau to notice her amber eyes had taken on a more tawny-golden quality, like ale warmed by the back glow of a distant flame, during the last several moments. "You should know that although I have not lain with a paladin before, you are not my first."

Sebau kissed her fingers. "Good," he told her. "There's that much less I have to teach you."

Trysha relaxed back into Sebau's kisses. She allowed his mailed knee to come between her bare thighs letting him in closer to her. As he drew in his kisses moved to her throat, his weight pressed her deeper into the bed, her legs naturally moved open and up to his waist. The skin of her inner thighs was sensitive to the metal protecting his legs and she gasped at the heat of his cock, as it soon pressed against her anxious to be inside her.