Wamleck's Conqueror Ch. 02

******Special thanks to jryanwest3rd for helping edit!******

******If you're searching for the sex, it's at the end!******

******Hope you guys enjoy! Sorry, it took so long!******

*****

"And what of the port in Amica?" asked Gorgan, the raider leader as he pointed to the map on the table.

"That city has seen enough instability for too long. I think that in this region—" said the king as his voice faded from Naira's ears. She frowned as she heard a light snore beside her. Her head snapped in Harper's direction to find her dozing off in her seat.

"Harper!" she scolded in a low and threatening whisper. "Harper?" Her eyes were closed, and her lips were parted slightly; she was asleep. Naira looked around anxiously, attempting to appear casual before pinching Harper hard on the back of the arm and coughing loudly to muffle her yelp as she awoke.

"What the hell?" she protested with an irritable gaze.

"You fell asleep, you idiot!" She informed her through a clenched and toothy smile.

"Asleep?" asked Harper, blinking over and over as she tried to reacquaint herself with her surroundings. Suddenly, she realized that every eye in the room was on her.

"Ahem... as I was saying—" said the king in a displeased tone. "In this region here—"

"Actually, your majesty, before we continue," interrupted Gorgan as he eyed Naira, lingering over her bountiful bosom and then zooming in on her tiara. "I would like it to be known that I'm quite taken with your daughter, Naira. A marriage between us would certainly help to strengthen the treaty."

"I'm sure it would, granted that she wished to marry you of her own accord," he replied, glancing back at Naira and staring with kingly encouragement.

"But of course. Do you mind?" He asked politely, extending his arm out towards the princess.

"Not at all," nodded the king. "We have been negotiating for hours now. Perhaps a refreshing break is in order." Gorgan nodded in agreement before strolling over to his target.

"My lady, your beauty is stunning, and your details are lovely. Princess Naira, you would make a beautiful bride," he purred, seizing her hand and kissing the back. Her face flushed red, and an adorable giggle escaped her lips, triggering him to smile. "Princess Naira, would you accompany me on a walk through the palace gardens?" he asked, then turning back to the king. "With your guard's escort, of course."

"Gorgan, leader of the Southern Raiders, I would be delighted," she smiled, bowing her head respectfully. Harper rolled her eyes so hard they nearly dislodged. Naira's never-ending dedication to pleasing the king and the people was nauseating. Even more so was the punishment of having to sit quietly beside them as they continued their sappy flirtation. Forced giggles and fake smiles. How much longer was this going to take?

"I am delighted that you are delighted," he laughed with a cheesy smile. He took her by the hand and helped her to her feet. But when Naira pretended to trip and fall so that Gorgan had to catch her... that's when Harper lost it. In a swift move, she rose up, shoved her chair back, and stomped out of the room. The further she could place herself from all that lovey-dovey crap, the better.

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"Harper?" Asked the castle's with a raised brow as Harper burst in through the kitchen's doors and slumped down at the servant's table. She began to groan to herself before resting her forehead down against the table. "Marian, we're going to need another batch of cookies," he scowled.

"Another batch? Why? We have more than enough to—Oh," she complained, stopping suddenly as Harper came into view. "Oh dear—Poor thing. I'll get the eggs. Julens, get her a glass of milk." Julens nodded, and Marian disappeared into the palace's pantry.

"Hey, pri—kiddo... Whatever it is this time, try not to eat too many, okay? You'll get sick... again," he whispered before placing a tall glass of milk and a plate full of cookies on the table beside her. She didn't reply. Instead, she exhaled into the table and reached out for a cookie to bring back to her mouth. Julens rolled his eyes. He didn't have time for her drama. Not today. Julens turned around and disappeared into the pantry after Marian.

"Sulking already," chuckled a low voice as he sat down at the servant's table. Harper groaned again, not caring about whoever it was that decided to intrude upon her solitude. If she ignored him long enough, he'd leave sooner or later. She just had to be patient. "Not much of a talker, huh? I can understand that." Harper rolled her eyes and attempted to sleep. But before she could doze off, her ears twitched, ever so slightly, as the soft crunching cookies echoed through her ears.

"Hey! Those are—"

"Delicious, I know," smiled the man as she shot up, her eyes beaming with a mixture of confusion and annoyance. The man had a scruffy beard, hair long enough to fit into a ponytail and beautiful set of brown eyes. "Would you like one?" He dunked a cookie into the milk and pressed it against her pink lips.

"No. These are my cookies," she glared, snatching the treat from his hand and eating it in one bite.

"My, you have quite the appetite," he laughed.

"If you're bothered by the way I eat, I suggest you relocate yourself to a prissier audience," she retorted. "What are you staring at?"

"Nothing. I'm just admiring the view," he smiled. Harper's face was unamused.

"You know, it's kind of funny to see Gorgan's most ruthless warlord, eating desserts. Don't you think?"

"If you're questioning my reputation, I'll simply allow my past to speak for itself. Enjoying 'desserts' doesn't make me any less of who I am. It doesn't take away from my manliness... On another note, I can now see exactly what it is that the king was talking about when he warned me about you." Harper raised a brow in curiosity, her gaze now locked onto his. "Oh, I now have your full attention, do I? Don't worry, he didn't say anything bad. Although, he did mention that you like to distance yourself from every unlucky suiter that crosses your path."

"Excuse me? Unlucky—" she started, having been offended.

"Your father's words, not mine, but I see things differently. I find myself lucky to have crossed your path. You see, you're not the average girl. In fact, from what I hear, you're a soldier, and I find that quite attractive."

"You find a girl that wants to wield a sword, attractive?" She asked skeptically. "You don't seem like the type."

"Is it really that hard to believe?" He shrugged innocently. Harper looked away and frowned.

"Kind of."

"I'm sorry you think that way. How about this. Allow me to prove myself." He extended his hand to her, and she took it, despite the queasy feeling in her gut.

"How? Where are we going?" She asked as he led her out of the kitchen.

"You'll see," he smiled.

"That doesn't sound at all creepy."

"It's not creepy. Trust me, it's—"

"Stop. Where do you think you're going with Harper?" Jack asked in a stern voice with his hand on his sword.

"Relax, soldier. We are going to go for a stroll—"

"If you want to leave the grounds with one of the king's soldiers, then you'll need an escort," he interrupted.

"Jack," scowled Harper, widening her eyes so that he could fully see how displeased she was by his interruption.

"A soldier that needs an escort?" He asked suspiciously.

"Yes. She is one of the king's favorites and holds a high honor," he replied without skipping a beat.

"A favorite, huh? Well, then, by all means, come along, kid," sighed the warlord as he brushed past him. Jack signaled to nearly a dozen guards to follow him. The group hiked through the grassy fields outside the palace until the warlord stopped them atop one of the hills. "This'll work."

"I don't understand. What are we doing, exactly?" She asked with heightened curiosity. Jack gripped the hilt of his sword, ready for any kind of ambush or foul play. He didn't like that they were in the open and he didn't like that this man was holding Harper's hand.

"Allow me to explain. You see, I heard that you are the best swordsman in your kingdom. Perhaps that is why the king favors you so dearly, or perhaps it is your beauty," he said, retrieved the two swords he had sheathed on his back and then stabbing them into the ground. "Which sword would you choose?"

"Harper, I—"

Shh," she snapped, cutting Jack off as she selected the sword on her right. They both appeared to be the same, although the one she chose, had a thinner hilt which would allow her to better grip it. "I would choose this one."

"Perfect choice, 'Harper,'" he said, lingering over her name. "That blade was made by the finest blacksmith in the Southern region." He retrieved the second blade from the dirt.

"You know my name. However, the only one I've come to know you by is 'The Marrow.' What is your real name?" she asked playfully, her nerves loosening up a bit.

"As if I'd surrender it so easily, even to you. No. Best me in a fight and you may have it," he said, his lips stretched into a wicked smile.

"Harper—"

"While I'm in a dress?" she asked, cutting Jack off and ignoring his concerns. "Hmm, that'll be quite the embarrassment," she shrugged before kicking off her boots and lunging at him. Their swords clanked with force, but the warlord's defensive maneuvering sent her flying past him.

"You'll have to try harder than that," he teased, masterfully dancing his blade through the air. Harper just smiled at him and lunged again, except this time, she bent her knees and lowered her swing so that the hilt of her sword smashed against his fingers.

"Ah!" he hollered painfully, but Harper ignored his cries and knocked the blade out of his hands with a high kick.

"Your name?" she panted, pointing the tip at his throat as her dress settled around her.

"Harlock," he grinned with an impressed look as she lowered her weapon.

"Harlock. Interesting name, not one I would have picked for my child. Shall we go again?" She taunted as she tossed her blade from hand to hand.

"A chance to redeem myself? Absolutely." He retrieved his sword and returned to a defensive stance.

"Your funeral," she shrugged, digging her feet into the grass and driving forward. Harlock's smile widened. How predictable. As she swung her sword at him, he ducked low and kicked a foot out to trip her. Harper landed hard on her stomach, her blade sliding through the grass.

"Harper?!" Jack yelled, nervous as he took a step forward. "Are you—"

"I'M FINE, JACK. I'M—" she cut herself short as Harlock held a sharpened edge to her jugular.

"Hmm, it seems as though I've won this round," he smiled as he brushed his hair back. Harper rolled her eyes.

"Best two out of three, then. Whoever wins this next one is the better swordsman," she declared, shoving the blade away from her.

"I agree to your terms. But know that I don't intend on losing to you," he informed her, spinning the sword's hilt in his hand.

"Neither do I." Harper took a deep breath and attacked harder than before. Her blade met his, locking against each other. Harlock grabbed over her hands and shoved her back. Harper staggered back then struck again. CLINK. CLANK. CLANK. Their swords produced small sparks each time they met. Harper realized that Harlock was undoubtedly stronger than she was, however, with her small frame, she was much faster... even in a dress.

"You're quite fast!" He complimented as he drove his sword at her. She quickly dodged it and returned a strike of her own.

"Thanks! Can't say the same for you!" She taunted as he took a step back. Then a devilish grin crossed his lips. He swung his sword swiftly, the tip slicing at the strap on her shoulder with precision. Harper looked down at her dress to see that he had managed to cut it without cutting her.

"Huh, I think it looks better like that," he said as he studied her damaged apparel.

"Perhaps I should do the other side as well. That is if you're going to leave yourself so open. Or maybe you were doing it on purpose so that I could undress you."

"A lucky strike, that's all," she snarled as her face turned red. Two could play his game. She pierced her blade through the air and nicked the metal clasp holding the cloak on his chest. Harlock unconsciously cupped his hand over the broken clip and staggered back.

"A little too close, Harper," he said, wincing as he pulled his hand away to reveal blood.

"Crap!" She gasped, dropping her weapon and rushing to his side. But Harlock took a step back and lifted his blade before him while making disappointed clicking noises with his tongue.

"Never abandon your weapon on the battlefield, Harper. You just gave me the final victory," he informed her.

"One, this isn't a real battle, and two you're bleeding," she scolded, pushing the sword away. She removed his hand and inspected the cut. "It's not too bad. But we need to get back to the castle and stitch you up, so it doesn't get infected."

"If you escort me, I'll go," he said playfully. Harper simply glared at him with a silent and impatient demeanor. "Okay, sheesh. Just trying to lighten the mood a little bit."

"Hold pressure and let's go," she instructed. "Jack, go on ahead and fetch me a fresh set of clothes.

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"That should do it," said the castle's doctor as he tied off the final stitch. He then grabbed a small bottle and poured a few drops over the wound. Harlock's nose curled a bit but was otherwise unphased. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a toddler that has a thorn lodged in his toe that I must attend to."

"Of course. Thank you, doctor," nodded Harlock as the man placed a clean cloth over the stitches and then left the room.

"How do you feel?" Asked Harper, emerging from one of the exam rooms in a long pair of trousers and a long, silk tunic.

"You do realize that it's just a scratch, right? Honestly, compared to past injuries, this feels no more painful than a mere bump of the knee," he assured her before donning his own tunic.

"I know, but I still feel the need to ask. I feel bad. I should've been more careful," she said sheepishly.

"Harper," he said in a deep voice, rising to his feet and approaching her slowly. "I'm the one that challenged you to the duel. If anything, it's my fault." Harlock grabbed ahold of her shoulders and leaned in close to stare into her deep blue eyes. His hands slid down her arms and gripped her hands warmly before pulling them up to his lips and planting a soft kiss on each one.

"Your hands are rough," she told him as his callouses rubbed against her small fingers.

"Years of training and fighting will do that to you," he explained. "But despite their outer appearance—"

"HARPER!" cried Jack as he burst in through the door. The sounds of the war bugles and shouting roared in behind him.

"Jack?! What's going on? Why do they sound the war bugles?" asked Harper in a panicked tone.

"Is it my people? Have we done something wrong?" asked Harlock nervously.

"NO! There's a new enemy. They just beached our shores. They have numerous vessels and hundreds of soldiers. Come quick! We're gathering in the great hall!" He said ushering them out in a hurry.

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"I've never seen this insignia before. Are you sure you've drawn it correctly, Malek?" Asked Gorgan as he examined the sketch his lieutenant had placed before him.

"Yes, sir. That is exactly how it appeared on their warships," he replied.

"Might I take a look?" Asked the king sternly. Gorgan slid the paper across the table and watched as a strained look appeared on his face. "No... it can't be!"

"What is it? You know this symbol?" He asked impatiently.

"Yes. It belongs to the Wamleck Nation on the mainland to the North. They are a brutal and evil people. Savages," he said with disgust before shoving the parchment away.

"Wamleck? I've heard of them before... from stories during my childhood. They were said to be the reason that the elders—our elders ventured to this island in the first place," said Gorgan as he rubbed his temple.

"They were more than stories. They were our history. A violent and bloody history." The king spat as he slammed his fist against the table.

"Your majesty. I've sent out a peace party to greet the visitors," said a short soldier covered in armor from head to toe.

"Thank you, Orem. I hope that perhaps the Wamleck Nation has bettered themselves when it comes to peace. However, knowing their history, I'm willing to bet they haven't. We must ready the troops. I want every man and woman that can fight, ready. And—"

"Your majesty, if I might interrupt. These invaders, they are a mutual enemy, and I offer the aid of my men and kingdom to quell their forces," said Gorgan loudly for everyone in the war room to hear.

"Gorgan, I gladly accept your help. Your men are notorious for their swordsmanship, and together, the Wamleck Nation doesn't stand a chance."

"Very well. Harlock?" Gorgan called as he searched the room. "Come."

"Yes sir," he said, releasing Harper's hand and approaching the table.

"I want you to take half of our army and surround this cove here. It has the calmest waters and easiest inclinations for a water-fronted attack. Take to the cliffs with archers and hide the rest in the trees. Mecoh?"

"Yes, sir?" answered Mecoh, his second warlord.

"I want you to take the other half and travel to Manatee's Pass."

"Yes, sir."

"Why not place every man at the cove? It's one of the only safe places to land on this island?" The king asked.

"Your majesty, if I were conquering this island, I would want to make sure that I invaded through multiple ports. I'd want as many fronts covered as possible. And if these warriors are as bad as you say, that's exactly what they'll do," replied Gorgan.

"You're right," he agreed. "In that case, I will send half of my men to the Trade Port with Jack, and the rest will remain here at the castle with us. Soren?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Send word out of the assigned posts."

"Right away, sir," he bowed before darting out of the room.

"MEN, TO YOUR POSTS!" Gorgan barked, spit flying out of his mouth. His men quickly pumped their fists into the air before spilling out of the room. "Your majesty, I will be taking a small group to check on the peace treaty. I want to know exactly what we are up against."

"Very well. Gorgan, I wish you and your men the best, and once this is all over, my people will throw a large feast in your honor!" The king announced.

"The same to you, your majesty! Let's move!" He yelled at his men as they exited.

"Harper!" Harlock called as he dove through the crowd of warriors.

"Harlock!" She waved at him.

"I'm glad I caught you. Where will you be stationed in all this?" He asked as he took her hands. The simple gesture made her blush, but she refused to show any new emotion.

"I'm not sure. I have to ask the king personally for my assignment," she replied.

"Well, if the king is comfortable with being separated from his 'favorite' soldier, I would be honored to add you to my war party. I'll protect you until death," he declared.

"Protection is the least of my worries. However, the invitation to join your war party... To be able to fight... That, I do like," she smirked as she thought about finally being able to put her skills to the test. She had trained for endless hours over the years, but she had yet to encounter a real enemy and was anxious to see what it was like. "Follow me so that we may speak with the king." She grabbed his hand and led him through the crowd and towards the throne. "Fa—Your majesty?"

"Harper! There you are!" He said with relief as he held his chest.

"Your majesty, I would like to ask permission to follow The Marrow and his war party into battle," she said quickly, nearly tripping over her words. The king's focused face soon turned stern as he stared into her eyes.