By lancellot
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Sergeant Jeff Wilkins's hands kept slipping. His palms were wet and tingly; his fractured mind refused to comprehend why. He kept trying to sit up despite Derrick's commands. Derrick didn't know what Jeff wanted to do or where he wanted to go without legs. Jeff probably didn't know either. Derrick did his best to tighten the tourniquets around the stumps where Jeff's knees used to be.
"It's okay; you're going to make it. You'll be alright, I swear." Derrick was lying, of course. Jeff's vampire-like pale face and wide vacant eyes told him the man had already lost too much blood. But, even as he thought it, Derrick knew the word lost wasn't entirely right. Jeff's blood wasn't lost. Some of it was on Derrick's boots, and the rest was pooled under what was left of the Sergeant's once-perfect body.
Tall, tanned, athletic. A light-skinned black man with hypnotic grey eyes did not come from the man Jeff's mom named his father. The guys in the squad often joked how women loved to lie under him and stare into those stormy greys imagining a house with a white picket fence and two-point three kids as Jeff pounded away at them, wondering if he should come in their face or flip them and go balls deep in their ass. The young Afghan women in that shit-hole village were no different, or so Jeff thought. If he hadn't tried to get a little honey, as he called it, none of them would be in a world of shit.
"Oh, shit… oh shit. They're coming over the ridge. They're coming," screamed Lewis. Just twenty-one, Lewis was so full of youth his voice hadn't yet lost that high-pitched bitch-like whine.
Derrick often compared Lewis' voice to pigs being slaughtered, as if the city boy Derrick was, knew how dying pigs sounded. He was thankful for Lewis at that moment as nothing else could've cut through the shock, trying to cloud his mind.
"Switch to night vision. Two by two, short bursts, short burst! Confirm your target and conserve your ammo. We've got five minutes before the Evac chopper gets here. Five minutes, people." Derrick watched his team's last four capable members take up positions along the ridgeline. He spared a final look at Jeff. Blessedly, he had gone quiet. Passed out or dead, in the end, it didn't matter; he would be spared what was coming. Derrick had only a glimmer of an escape plan forming in his mind if the chopper didn't come. Could it work, perhaps? If God truly favored the foolish, they had been very, very foolish.
Derrick took a position between his remaining friends when a blood-red flare lit up the night sky. As one, they all looked up with dirt-stained faces knowing that a hundred fierce eyes would see their exact position. Captain Derrick Mathews stared at the slowly falling light and thought: How lonely that little flare was in a sky empty for miles. Shit!
| Author Notes | There is another 67000 words to this story. I'm testing to see if there is any interests in Derick's story or fate. |
By lancellot
Derrick’s next memory was of darkness. Not the dark of night when there is no moon and only a sprinkling of stars or that of a child’s bedroom with only a creepy sliver of light seeping under the door. No, this was an inky indigo black, like charcoal on your hands. Better yet, that all-consuming ebony where your heart races and bile surges up and burns your throat because you fear you woke up blind.
Wherever Derrick was, it was warm and a bit cramped. He could feel his body, but it was…different. Derrick flexed his hands, arms, and legs; something was wrong. The feeling led to a rapid increase in his heartbeat, which he could somehow hear. He tried to speak, but no sound came from his lips. Dear God, I’m blind, and I can’t talk.
Derrick wanted to check his mouth; his arms and hands felt sluggish and stiff. He had to concentrate on moving them, but eventually, they obeyed. His hands roving over his face and head led to his next shock.
My hair is gone. The baldness didn’t upset Derrick too much, as he lost his hair in college. When Derrick finally entered basic training, all he had was something shameful and sickly clinging to his scalp for dear life. It took the barber less than thirty seconds to redeem his dignity. It took another thirty seconds for Derrick to accept his genetic fate.
His quick acceptance of a changing reality led to Derrick’s rapid rise through the ranks. Derrick drew on that trait as he calmed himself and took stock of his current circumstances. He noted his arms were short and didn’t extend much farther than his head. He heard a distinct swooshing sound when moving, and his fingers rubbed against a smooth bag-like material. He was either in a body bag filled with water or-.
Now, you may have figured out where and what Derrick was, and in truth, the thought had occurred to him as well, but to go from a 32-year-old Army Ranger to a preemie in an instant wasn’t something even Derrick could easily accept. Still, in doubt, Derrick forced his hands to his belly, and 10-4; there was a cord connected to him. Shit! A wave of adrenaline surged through his little body. How could this happen? Did I die? Why am I awake? What’s going on? Derrick began to lash out with his tiny legs at the sheer injustice and insanity of it all.
Derrick had been reincarnated, and he wasn’t even religious. He had been in his prime; young and handsome with a respectable family, educated, a beautiful girlfriend, and a decent-sized… dear God. He reached down as far as his stubby arms would go, bumped into his cord. That hurt, but he was on a mission. Dear Lord, let it be there. He had to bend over and tuck his legs a bit, but finally, he reached it. If he weren’t breathing water, he would have sighed in relief. It was small, but so was he. Regardless, his dick had made the trip with him. Derrick was still a man or baby boy. Then, suddenly, he heard the soft unmistakable sound of a woman singing. Derrick didn’t know if it was her voice, the song, or his exertions or something in the water, but he was drifting off to sleep, and he couldn’t stop it.
It turned out he did a lot of sleeping. He intended to stay awake and plan his escape. Yes, that sounded silly in his mind too, but he got bored with nothing to do. Plus, it was difficult to measure time with all the naps, nothing to see, limited mobility, and near lack of outside stimulus, besides muffled sounds. In the end, he tossed his escape plans and settled down; after all, he didn’t want to be born undeveloped.
It would be tedious to describe what Derrick did while in prison. But, that is how he viewed his circumstances. The day he was born was the happiest of his new life.
~
Derrick was ‘re-born’ to two smiling, medieval-looking parents. Derrick soon learned the lady was a seamstress, and the man was a soldier with the city watch. The lady’s name was Rosetta Escamilla, and Dominic Rubio Escamilla was the man. Derrick was immediately re-named Paul Escamilla.
Derrick, rather, Paul did not complain. Well, that’s not exactly right. He could not speak or couldn’t for a few weeks after birth; apparently, it takes a while to strengthen never used vocal cords. He did it when the man and lady were around and for good reasons when he could talk.
What were they? Well, the first, they were primitive-looking, simple folk, and he didn’t want them thinking he was a demon-possessed baby. He thought they would toss him out or burn him alive. Next, they spoke a language he had never heard before. In his old life, then Derrick never made it past Spanish 1 in high school. Not that he remembered anything, most American kids take a semester of foreign language in high school and quickly forget everything after the last test. But what these two people spoke wasn’t close to Spanish, English, or Farsi.
Now Paul didn’t have an issue with being in a foreign country, but he wasn’t prepared for the world outside his new home. So when Rosetta finally carried her baby boy into the sunshine, it was the sight of what seemed to be giant, but completely tame, lizards pulling carts down cobblestone roads that let him know he wasn’t on planet Earth. Well, that and the moonless nights.
Despite the wonders before his eyes, Paul’s thoughts often drifted home. Seeing his new mother smile as she cooked dumplings made him remember his ‘real’ mother back home. He imagined her getting a knock on her door and then opening it to a blank-faced Army lieutenant, making his sixth “I’m sorry for your loss” speech that day. There would be no hero’s welcome, no wedding dance with mom, and sadly, no grandchildren for her to spoil.
Derrick, now Paul, tried not to think of his old family, friends, or life, but the more of this new world’s differences he saw, the more he missed not sharing the wonders with his loved ones. That was an annoyance for him. A broken record, he could not stop. Life in a fantasy world was nothing like the books he had read.
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Derrick Williams, former soldier. reborn as: Paul Escamilla , baby Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress |
By lancellot
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of sexual content.
In Derrick’s now Paul’s previous life, he was a middle-class black guy from the northside of Chicago, and his favorite pastime was reading sci-fi novels and Manga. The only adventures in a strange world he had as a child were when he visited his cousins, who lived on the city's south side. Derrick survived the dangers of the hood by always having an escape plan. No matter the sticky situation, his cousins knew he had an idea to get them home.
Things were different here. Derrick, now Paul, had no idea how he got to this world or how to escape. The only hope he had was nature. But, he knew what goes up must come down. And if there was a way to this world, there must be a way back to his world. And, he would find his way back home, back to his life, back to his real family.
Paul had to gather all the facts and accept them, no matter how wild, before he could form any plan. Fact one, he had been reincarnated. Fact two, he retained the memories of his former life, right down to what he was doing before ‘it’ happened. Yeah, I remember the hell I left my squad in and my promise to get them home, he thought.
Paul left them and got sent to a new world, without any say in the matter, and wound up safe in a baby’s body. He was pathetic, pitiful, pink, and pleasantly plump, but he had surprisingly good control of his tiny body. He could see perfectly at birth, though he had heard babies couldn’t see clearly until months later. His hearing and muscle control were excellent; stomach and bladder control were not. Within a week, he crawled in his crib and stood in three weeks.
Paul did many things when left alone at night and safely unobserved. Baby Paul viewed himself as a captive soldier; as such, it was his responsibility to keep hope alive and take stock of the smallest assets available to him.
One asset he was lacking was a bottle to feed himself. But, seeing how poor his guardians were, he didn’t complain or cry about it. Paul didn’t cry about anything, even when he was hungry. It confused the hell out of his parents. Paul learned, mothers in his new world only fed their babies the old-fashioned way. So, they were accustomed to silencing hungry babies by shoving a nipple into their mouth until mother and baby fell into a routine. Rosetta and Paul never did.
One day, about six months into his captivity, Paul was relaxing in an old baby rocker on the floor of their small two-bedroom cabin. Rosetta was asleep on the sofa. As was stated, Paul wasn’t a crier; that was beneath his pride as a man. He was a very reasonable and patient prisoner. However, his stomach was grumbling, and he didn’t feel like waking his usually tired caretaker.
Paul had to admit she did a lot around the house. There was no dishwasher, washing machine, or electricity, and she worked as a seamstress for a merchant about six hours a day. She could hold a job due to Paul not being a fussy baby. Oh, he got hungry; he just waited until quitting time. And, yes, all the other women in town thought Rosetta was a genius in training Paul so well; he was widely considered the perfect baby. Well, he was after tests revealed he wasn’t mute, deaf, or in any way dysfunctional. That had been a concern of his parents.
Now, Paul’s body was that of a baby, but he was 32 years old in his mind. While he kept a low profile, played the baby role, and learned the language, the day came when his resolve lapsed a bit. He was hungry, and food was within reach. So what else am I supposed to do? He reasoned before enacting his plan.
Paul quickly did a visual and audio recon, and with the coast clear, he quickly untied the straps holding him down and climbed out of his rocker. He re-taught himself to walk months ago and did nightly baby calisthenics to build his muscles. This Paul also kept a secret as babies didn’t tend to do anything but poop and cry until at least one year in Valeria. Oh, Valeria is the name of the kingdom he was in. Paul learned that from listening to Rosetta and her friends during playdates. He refused to play with babies. Anyway, Paul walked over to the sofa and climbed up. His exercises had served him well. His upper body was more reliable than most toddlers'.
Paul knew his plan was a bit reckless; so, he decided to take precautions. First, he gently tapped Rosetta’s shoulder to see how deeply she was asleep. She didn’t move. Then in rudimentary Valerian, he whispered in her ear, “Hey lady, you awake?”
Not being a sleaze, in this life or his last, he asked for consent, “Um, do you mind if I help myself to your… food?”
There was no word for milk in Valerian that he was aware of, and he didn’t know the term for breast. Paul didn’t feel the terms Rosetta used when she was shoving her boobs in Dominic’s face to get him in the mood were appropriate in this instance. Now that he thought about it, Rosetta did many sexually inappropriate things around him, more when she assumed he was asleep. Where does she get the energy?
Receiving no answer, and yeah, he knew the Earth or at least California rules of affirmative consent, but he wasn’t on Earth. Paul took her silence as authorization to proceed. Valeria hadn’t yet invented buttons, only clasps, and ties as far as he knew. While the strings on his rocker were simple, those holding in Rosetta’s bosom were another matter. It didn’t help that her boobs were big, and the strands holding those massive jugs in were double knotted. Fortunately, his nimble fingers were up to the task.
Paul balanced himself on Rosetta’s chest and leaned into her pillow-like bosom. Staring and concentrating as hard as he could on the last remaining knot, Paul ignored everything else around him. It must have taken several minutes because he could feel his little legs trembling from balancing on Rosetta’s uneven lap. Though awkward, the tie eventually came loose, and the top of Rosetta’s dress burst open like a beautiful spring flower.
Paul was both ecstatic and impressed, but more than that, he was hungry. Wasting no time, he slid the remaining cloth from her left boob, placed both his little hands under it, and then lifted that life-giving brown nipple to his salivating mouth. He was careful of his two emerging teeth as he began to feed quietly. He didn’t know why; perhaps it was some throwback to his life as a man, but while sucking Rosetta’s sweet nipple, he glanced up into her face. Rosetta was looking back at him.
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Derrick Williams, former soldier. reborn as: Paul Escamilla , baby Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress |
By lancellot
Rosetta’s hazel eyes were wide open and looked directly into his. Paul didn’t have the power to stop time. As far as he knew, he had no magical abilities at all, but at that moment, time did seem to stop. Indeed, Paul had no idea how long they stared at each other. His mind went blank, his hands were heavy, his lips quivered, and a small stream of milk ran down his smooth chin.
Not knowing what else to do, Paul eventually released Rosetta’s nipple. Then, very slowly, he grabbed the open ends of her top and tried futilely to cover her exposed chest. He didn’t even bother with retying the strings. He took a chance and waved one chubby hand from left to right in her face. Still, her eyes never blinked or moved from his.
Alrighty then, he thought and then carefully backed off her lap and dropped to the wooden floor with a small plop echoing in the room. He saw Rosetta was still staring at him when he slid back into his rocker. He grabbed both ends of his safety strap and started to tie them when her mouth opened, and her lips moved, but no sound came out.
Paul glanced at his hands and noticed breast milk sticking to his skin. He sighed, dropped the straps, and then scooted his diapered bottom to the end of his rocker. There he sat, with his hands on his tiny knees while looking up at Rosetta’s unmoving eyes and exposed chest.
Then in his best Valerian, he spoke, “I know you’re probably in shock right now, but if you think it would help, we can both pretend this is all just a dream?”
To her credit, Rosetta did not run from the room screaming or, and for this, Paul was eternally grateful, she did not grab a knife, and attempt to kill the talking demon spawn.
She slowly shook her head no, moved to the edge of the sofa, and said, “I… I fell asleep before feeding you. I’m sorry.”
“That’s alright. I fed myself,” Paul replied and smiled.
“Oh, you can smile. Thank the three gods.” And then she laughed.
Paul laughed too, and they both laughed until tears came to their eyes.
After that, Rosetta grew quiet and a stern expression formed on her usually jovial face. “Are you… really, my baby?” she asked with moisture brimming in her eyes once again.
Paul stared at her and felt the pain within. He wanted to say no, my mother is on my world thinking I’m dead. All I want is to get back to my real family. “Of course, I’m your baby boy. I just seem to remember my past life. That’s all, and I don’t know how this accident happened.”
Then Rosetta cried.
Paul waited a few minutes while she cried, what seemed like tears of joy and relief. When she had finally composed herself, she stood and snatched him up.
A thread of fear shot through Paul’s little body, but when Rosetta pressed him against her bosom and smothered him with kisses, he relaxed and sighed in relief.
Rosetta plopped him on her lap and peppered him with all kinds of questions, and he asked a few of his own. Paul learned more in those few hours than he had in many months on his own. He explained the world he was from and who he was in it. Rosetta told him some things about her. As a somewhat follower of the Church of The Three Gods, the state religion of a neighboring kingdom, the concept of reincarnation was not unknown to her.
“I have heard of reincarnation, but I was not permitted high-level learning. I suppose those higher in the church could give you the answers you want, but…” Rosetta looked away, and her lips trembled slightly.
Paul had a feeling of what was going through her mind. “It’s okay, you can say it.”
“You are my child, and I love you, no matter what. I believe you have an old soul and remember your past life, but many commoners and a few nobles widely believe in demon possession. If they saw you as you are now, they would kill you, and then they would have to kill me too, after I burned their houses down.” She tilted her head and grinned. “Of course, then Dominic, the crazy man that he is would kill a dozen of them before they brought him down.”
“Don’t tell me.” Paul smiled. “Then, the three of us would be reincarnated, and the entire saga would begin again.”
They talked on until Paul’s baby stamina eventually gave out. Rosetta took her strange child into her arms and gave him an awkward feeding. Later, she carried him to bed and then prepared the evening meal. During her cooking, she thought about how to explain Paul to her husband, without him killing her baby or disowning them both.
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Derrick Williams, former soldier. reborn as: Paul Escamilla , baby Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress |
By lancellot
It was a dreary gray spring day. The dark clouds hung low in the sky and appeared fat and pregnant with rain. Rosetta envied them; she wanted to be just as fat and just as pregnant, but she wasn’t a healthy woman, and bearing a child was a death sentence for both. Rosetta and Dominic had been married for a year, and he was third in line for a promotion to sergeant with the City Watch.
Dominic assured his bride, he could get it, despite the heavy odds against him. He was strong, fast, even-tempered, and his handling of the near food riot last month had saved countless lives. The Commander had personally commended Dominic and made him a lead watchman of the night shift.
That posting would prove to be a curse and then a blessing. It was towards the end of the great war between the kingdom and the Southern desert tribes. When the kingdom’s main army was away, the city came under siege. If the gates fell, the city and the entire southern district would have been taken. All seemed lost and then Dominic took command of the remaining forces. He held the Southgate against unimaginable odds until help arrived days later. He was a hero to the city and the region. The Duke offered him a gift of a hundred gold coins. It was a gift the honorable Dominic Escamilla graciously declined.
When the Duke asked if there was anything else he could do for him, Dominic didn’t hesitate. “My wife has a persistent cough and weakness of spirit, and our town surgeon cannot heal her. I fear the worst. Your Grace, I know it may be too much to ask, but will you allow your Royal Surgeon to look at her, if only for a moment?”
The Duke opened his mouth, then closed it. His face became flush, and for a few seconds, he could find no words. He nodded his head. "Young Champion, your wife shall be more than an honored guest at my castle. She will receive all the care my house can provide. You may leave her safety on my honor."
***
Though Rosetta thought the Royal Surgeon strange and she heard rumors from the servants about bizarre experiments. After three months at the castle she had to admit she had never felt better in her life after receiving his treatments, though she couldn’t remember them. The Duke treated her as if she were his third child; a daughter to add to his two sons. She was happy and finally healthy. All her life, she had been inflicted with weak lungs. She had been unable to run as others did, swim in the lake during hot summers, or get overly excited in typical womanly ways with the man she loved.
When Dominic began to pursue her, she had tried to dissuade him. She ignored him, insulted him, did everything, including attempting to run from him. That had led to her collapsing, and when she awoke, she was in his arms. She immediately began to protest, but he simply smiled at her and then lowered his head to her ear.
“Hush girl, what’s done is done. Did you truly not know you would faint if you tried to run? Did you believe I would leave you in the road? Did you truly not know I would carry you home?” Dominic stared into her eyes, but Rosetta said nothing.
She looked and saw that he had stopped at Miller’s road. If he turned left, that would lead to her parents’ house, and all he needed to say was that she became ill, and he carried her home. No one would question this, as her sickness was known to all. But if he turned right, that road led to the home he shared with his parents, and as soon as they began down that road, all would naturally assume, she had finally given in to him, as his pursuit of her was also well known, if not understood.
Rosetta looked up at Dominic and then leaned her head against his muscular chest. “I knew,” was all she needed to say.
Dominic turned right with a smile on his face, and a deep shade of red blossoming on Rosetta’s face. The sound of cheers and well wishes from people along the road accompanied them home.
***
Rosetta stood at the bakers, enjoying the scent of fresh sweet bread, a hand instinctively went down to her flat belly as her mind wandered. They had made love all day and night when she returned home. Rosetta closed her eyes and allowed her mind to feel the tiny presence of Dominic’s seeds deep within her. They were moving franticly, so alive, so strong, so much like her Dominic. Like he, they wanted her, and all she had to do was make a tiny adjustment, and they would live long enough to reach her womb. She could practically feel them surging. She imagined they were close to the waiting egg that would become fertilized and become their child.
“Yes,” she whispered and invisible to the naked eye, a small hormonal shift, known to the women of Valeria occurred. She smiled and envisioned thousands of tiny seeds within her notice the change and rejoice with renewed vigor as they now sensed the presence of her egg. She gave a silent prayer of thanks to Vallis, the Duke’s royal surgeon, the Duke, and the Three Gods, naturally.
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Derrick Williams, former soldier. reborn as: Paul Escamilla , baby Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. |
By lancellot
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Derrick Williams, former soldier. reborn as: Paul Escamilla , baby Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. |
By lancellot
The weeks turned into months, and the new parents settled into their roles with fantastic ease. In time they found that most of the advice they were given about caring for a newborn they didn’t need. Paul was an amazing baby. He wasn’t fussy or spoiled or needy. He didn’t cry, scratch himself or do much of anything most babies did. When it was time to change his diaper, Paul seemed to raise his bottom, close his eyes, and patiently wait until done. There were never any accidents when changing him. Sometimes he would turn his head as if he were ashamed.
Once Dominic was left alone with his son. He placed Paul on the kitchen table to change his diaper when there was a knock on the door. Though he should not have, Dominic left Paul there and went to the door. A friend from the Watch had stopped over. Several minutes had passed as the men talked when Rosetta came into the house. The men were sitting on the sofa, chatting.
“Welcome back, Rosie.” Dominic rose from his seat and kissed his wife.
His co-worker said hello, noted the falling shadows outside, and bid them a farewell.
Rosetta looked at the sofa and then the empty baby rocker on the floor. She turned to her husband. “So, you tired Paul out and put him to bed. You know, now he’ll be up all night,” she said, grinning at her husband. Her grin quickly fell.
The blood drained from his face. His lips twitched and his eyes grew wide.
“What is…” Rosetta began.
Dominic darted past his wife and bolted into the kitchen, all while shouting, “Gods, no, no, no!”
Rosetta didn’t hesitate; she was right on her husband’s heels.
The couple ran into the kitchen, and there they both skidded to a sudden stop.
Sitting up in the middle of the table was four-month-old baby Paul. He turned to his parents and briefly returned their stare, sighed, and then returned to doing whatever he was doing.
Rosetta flew to the table and scooped her baby up. She carefully examined him for signs of injury or mishap. Finding none, she smothered him with kisses, which he fought off, and then carried him away.
Dominic let out the breath he had been holding and slowly walked to the table. On it, he found the soiled diaper neatly folded and baby powder with a picture that almost resembled a flag with what appeared to be stars and stripes. For the rest of the lonely night, as Rosetta was not talking to him, Dominic could not remember if he changed Paul before leaving him. He was sure he hadn’t, but then he did not recall leaving the baby power open either.
Two months later, after Rosetta had resumed her Job as a seamstress, with Paul in tow. Dominic had come home to find Rosetta had cooked his favorite meal of chicken, dumplings, and sweet biscuits. At first, he did not think much of it, just assumed Rosetta was in the mood again, as she usually was. He knew well by then that Rosetta had much more time and freedom than most new mothers.
His son was remarkably well behaved and smart. He never touched things he shouldn’t, never fell, didn’t put things into his mouth, or cried a single tear. He did laugh and smile when Dominic or Rosetta made a joke, and that was only recently. Dominic had been delighted to see that change. For a time, Paul seemed to be either apathetic or bored, if one could say a baby could be bored. Dominic had foregone buying him any more toys, as the boy looked at the new item, appeared to examine it, and then finding it useless, gave his father an annoyed look, and then crawled away.
After the toys failed, Dominic figured his son was more of the physical type. He tried playing peek-a-boo, horsey, or chase the lizard, but Paul was uninterested. Dominic tried tickling his little belly, but Paul would simply close his robe and flick Dominic’s hand away. At times his baby appeared to be on the verge of yelling at him but then seemed to think better of it and crawled away. His baby did a lot of that. Paul never grew happy or excited when Dominic or Rosetta came home. He never begged to be picked up, nor was he afraid of strangers. He simply stared at them for a few minutes, appear to listen to what they had to say, and then dismiss them as useless.
The only time Paul seemed to enjoy himself was bath time. Dominic would heat some water and fill a large pot with it. The first time he did this and began to ease Paul into the pot, Paul reached out with his little hand and dipped one finger into the water, almost as if he were testing the temperature.
Dominic, thinking he had discovered a new game, took the kettle of hot water and added a bit more. “Is this good?” he asked.
Paul again reached out and dipped his finger into the water. The boy turned to the kettle and pointed at it.
Dominic getting into the new game tipped the kettle over and added more water until the water in the pot was steaming. “Okay, I think that’s enough, you don’t want to boil.”
This time Baby Paul pushed his entire hand into the water and then smiled.
Dominic tested the water too, and found it hot but tolerable, at least for him. He wasn’t sure about Paul, but there was no mistaking the smile on his son’s face; such a rare thing it was. Dominic slowly looked around and made sure Rosetta was still asleep; then, he eased his naked baby into the pot.
Dominic stared in silence as Paul leaned back, stretched out his arms, held onto the sides, and slid deep into the water until just his head and hands were above. The baby pursed his lips and slowly exhaled. He then flexed his little toes, closed his eyes, dipped his entire head under for a few seconds, then came up and appeared to relax.
Dominic held out a rubber lizard toy. “Do you want your…?”
Baby Paul appeared to roll his eyes before turning his head.
Dominic, not knowing what else to do, picked up a towel, some soap, and began to wash his son’s body.
Paul opened one eye, looked at his dad, and then shut it again. He made no move of resistance as Dominic did his job. When it over and Dominic lifted the boy out, Paul merely sighed but did nothing more as Dominic toweled him dry.
From that day forward, Dominic gave Paul most of his baths. He decided not to tell his wife about Paul’s unusual enjoyment. At least he didn’t until the night Rosetta made his favorite meal.
Rosetta kissed her husband on the cheek and said, “By the way, Paul can talk.”
Dominic dropped his spoon, turned to his wife with a huge smile. “He… he said his first word! Was it dada, or was it…?”
Rosetta shook her head and sat down. “No, he… said he was a reincarnated soldier from another planet. Well, no, first, he walked across the floor, climbed up the sofa, untied by bouse, and fed himself on my breast.” She raised her hand to stop Dominic from interrupting. “Then he walked back to his rocker and… apologized for scaring me, and then we had a long three-hour talk. He fell asleep a while ago, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he is awake and listening right now.”
Dominic stared at his wife, and then burst out in laughter, nearly spilling his dinner. He stopped laughing when he saw his wife looking towards the open bedroom door, where baby paul stood with his hands behind his back.
Paul slowly walked forward, with his eyes glued to his father. “If it would make you feel better, I could say dada or mama if you want.” Paul stopped a few feet away from the table and waited to run for his life.
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Derrick Williams, former soldier. reborn as: Paul Escamilla , baby Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. |
By lancellot
In the sixteen years since being born into the Kingdom of Valeria, life hadn’t been that bad for Paul Escamilla as far as he was concerned. He had dutiful caretakers and lived in stable conditions, but he was having no luck in discovering a way back home. In many ways, his second childhood was better than his first. Back in America, he was an only child, raised by a single mother with limited resources. He still missed his old mom and extended family, but he was okay with the new one he had. The Escamilla family was all of three people. Since Paul was male, there would be no other children. The Kingdom of Valeria had a strict one family, one son rule for commoners. You could have as many daughters as you liked, but the instant you had a son, your family was complete.
Under normal circumstances, only having one child for the working poor meant less help around the house. Fortunately, as Paul often reminded Rosetta, she had an ex-army ranger from twentieth-century Earth for a son. He could chop wood, fight, cook for himself, and hunt. Paul learned to use a bow and sword from his father. He was no expert, but Dominic was satisfied that Paul could hold his own against one or two average opponents. He could read, write, and count Valerian since he was three. As a bonus, Paul made it known he did not require any oversight, babysitting, or the normal child-rearing burden normal parents had.
Paul’s days since ‘coming out’ to his parents were not those of a typical child. For one thing, he was table fed sooner than normal children. Walking up to his mother and asking for a breast in an adult tone, but a baby’s voice just became too awkward. Once he got at least one upper and one lower tooth, Dominic cut him off of breast milk. Paul didn’t blame him, though at times it appeared Rosetta had some regrets. Paul figured her motherly instincts were hard to break. All the other baby and child norms ended around that time too. Paul was no longer changed and had to use the outside privy. He did bathe in a pot for some time, though, as it was a good fit. He also dressed himself, though Rosetta still washed and laid out his clothes for the day, those instincts again, and he had chores in the house where no one could see.
Outsiders were always a constant problem. The rules were, he could be himself inside the house when they didn’t have company. If someone came over, he had to pretend to be a normal child. Paul understood his parents' caution. Valeria had a strict class system, and school for poor commoners was unheard of. So, having a child as smart as Paul would draw all kinds of unwanted attention. For Paul, this made obtaining information about magic or reincarnation slow and painful for him. Plus, he was bored senseless. He spent most of his days going to town and asking odd questions of Earth or the army to kids around his age or people exiting caravans. In his reasoning, it seemed plausible that he may not have been the only person of his team reincarnated. If his friends died on that ridge with him, perhaps they too came to Valeria. If that was plausible, then it was possible, they had found some clues to getting back home. This search became his only goal and a bit of an obsession.
***
There was a saying in Paul’s old life: Shit happens. Those two little words covered a great many things. They could mean a natural disaster just wiped out your home, a flock of locust ate your cornfields, or in his mother’s case, a mangy looking teenager saw her getting paid and all she had was one young teen by her side. Well, shit happens.
Paul was sure the boy spotted them before he saw him, but that small advantage was not enough. Rosetta had just tied her coin pouch to her sash, as the women in Valeria tend to do. They hadn’t invented the purse or handbag yet, but they made sure their sash color matched their clothing, something that intrigued Paul from time to time. In his former life, he was recon, so it was still instinctual for him to be on the lookout.
“Some habits last more than one lifetime,” he would whisper when his Rosetta caught him scanning the area.
There were two teens, not one as Paul had first noted; a tallish blond youth and his companion, a shorter dark-haired boy with just the hint of manly whiskers over his lip. Paul judged them to be about 16 and 18. They were at least 50 yards away, spying at mother and son from behind some barrels on the far end of the market. Paul could tell they were looking mostly at Rosetta.
This by itself didn’t concern him; men, young and old, often gazed longingly at his mother. She was a tall, shapely woman with huge breasts that seemed to defy both aging and gravity. She also dressed well, for a commoner, and she always wore a smile. Paul figured life had treated her well. She had a good husband and well… she had him, for a son. So, none of the effects of hard labor or worry touched her beautiful face, and a far as he could remember, she was never sick. Therefore, he thought little of it when the boys were checking her out. It wasn’t until one disappeared, and the remaining lad began to follow them, that he knew they were trouble.
It would be a classic hit and run. There would be a small bump, a quick snatch, and then off to the races. If Paul or Rosetta noticed the theft, the 1st teen would round a blind corner. A handoff would happen, and all evidence would vanish before the city watch arrived.
Paul knew he could have simply gotten his mother inside one of the shops until the thieves grew tired or picked another target. But he was curious about them. Their tactics were almost military-like.
Paul thought, There is no reason to assume my team was reincarnated at the same time I was. They could have come to this world years before or years after me.
He had no idea what the rules were, but this was a chance he couldn’t pass up.
“Um… Rosetta, I have an errand to run,” he told Rosetta while eyeing her approaching assailant. “I’ll see you at home.”
“Alright, but don’t be too long, and remember the rules.” With that, she watched Paul disappear into the crowd with a strange tingle deep in her stomach. "He won't do anything wrong. I trust him. I do. I... I. Dear Gods, help him understand where and who he is now."
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Derrick Williams, former soldier. reborn as: Paul Escamilla , baby Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. |
By lancellot
Paul didn’t intercept the blond teen. He walked a short distance away and watched the show. Seeing him leave must have been all the boy was waiting for. Like a rookie in basic training, he took off with a burst of speed, a spin around an old man, a duck under the hands of a loving couple, and then a sudden and slight bump.
“Oh, excuse me,” he said with a smile.
Rosetta blushed and returned his smile. “No harm was done.”
She was such a good person Paul knew she would never guess she had just been robbed. Paul felt a pang of guilt at using her as bait, and then a burst of anger. Though no physical harm was committed, Rosetta had been victimized before his eyes. The sudden realization brought an unexpected spike of heat within him. He took off in pursuit.
Paul slowed his pace, seeing he could not run the older boy down. Instead, he headed down the side streets. It didn’t take long before he spotted teen number two. The dark-haired puberty-stricken teen crouched under a deserted awning. Paul was about to approach when he noticed his lips move. Paul looked across from him and hidden in the shadows was another person; slender, smaller, and dirtier than the other two. The face was slight and difficult to assess. Well, dirty or clean, two or three, it didn’t matter much to Paul. Even at his size, he reckoned he could handle at least four unarmed teens.
Paul decided to conceal himself. He needed all three at once, and like a wish come true, the older boy arrived wearing a huge smile of success.
He came into the alley like a conquering hero. “Who has the fastest hands in the land,” he crooned and tilted his head to the filthiest boy.
“Joqumoe,” came a high pitch reply.
“Who captures hearts with only a glance?”
“Joqumoe,” repeated whom Paul now realized was a female.
“Who runs faster than a speeding…”
Paul had heard enough. He needed to question them, not watch a bragging show. He stepped out into the middle of the alley.
“Who is that?” Joqumoe asked.
Joqumoe’s two companions instantly jumped to either side of who was clearly the leader of the trio. Paul didn’t think they would run from someone of his size, and he was right, but they weren’t fools either. While Joqumoe stared him up and down, the eyes of the other two quickly scanned everything around them. Paul had no doubt they were well-rehearsed in team fighting and, if needed making a strategic exit. The look in the braggart’s eyes showed curiosity at first as his brows narrowed, and then recognition but not an iota of fear.
“Yes, you’re the… son?” His smile returned, just as big as before. “Come to get your mommy’s coins back, little man?”
He was a pretty boy, and his bright smile seemed to be a weapon he used to disarm his victims, while his hands…
Paul closely followed his hands. He held the pouch up and bounced it in his right. His left hand slipped behind his back, and just as covertly, the other boy slid what Paul guessed to be a small knife into his palm. Well, that explains why they aren’t running. Paul was a bit amazed at how quickly and silently the decision to kill was made. They had to know he could never catch all of them if they ran, but it was clear they did not want to leave anyone who could identify them. The ruthlessness and efficiency of their thinking impressed him. But he needed to be sure they weren’t his friends in despair at arriving in a new world and took to a life of crime.
“Recon Squad 31 will never die. Rangers for life. Is that you, Jeff, Frank, Marty?” he shouted in English.
Joqumoe’ s face instantly changed. His smile dropped, his nostrils flared, and his eyes narrowed to thin slits. “Are you trying to cast a spell on us, you little shit? You don’t know magic.”
Paul raised his empty hands and slowly approached them. There was a slight tremble in the dark-haired boy and the girl… the girl, looked… her small brown eyes darted from her leader to Paul. She took a half step back but got no further. Joqumoe looked down at her for just the briefest moment, but it was enough.
In that slight glance, Paul read his message. “You can run, but after I kill this little rat, I will find you, and then you will wish you were dead too.” Or he could have just said, “Bitch don’t leave me.”
Paul didn’t believe in magic, but it was evident he was alone in that. “I have no magic. I thought you were someone I knew,” he said in Valerian and then added. “I see you’re not, so if you would just hand over my mother’s pouch, I’ll be on my way.” Paul thought it was a reasonable request, that wouldn’t happen.
The fight lasted longer than Paul initially figured. Paul had to admit, he was horribly out of shape, and his smaller body simply couldn’t do the things his mind asked of it. Second, what began as a one on one match quickly, though not unexpected, devolved into a three on one struggle to the death. Despite Joqumoe’s larger size and strength, he was no match for Paul's military training, experience, and Dominic’s lessons. Paul disarmed him twice, but each time he did, one of the others would produce a blade from within their robes and toss it to him. But by then Paul had, acquired two knives of his own.
After a few superficial cuts to his arms and legs, the fearless leader became fearful. “Enough, surround him and take him down.”
The girl was the easiest. She was the smallest and weakest. A backhand to the jaw and a solid jab to the liver put her down for the count.
Seemingly in disgust, Joqumoe gave her a swift kick to the face.
The sound of her small nose popping and the spray of blood as she whimpered in pain infuriated Paul. Yes, Paul had just beaten her down himself, but that was self-defense. Plus, as a modern soldier, seeing females fight was one thing, seeing them abused after they lost was something else.
It became apparent the two older boys were used to fighting together as their moves and counters flowed better without the girl. It was also evident that the female meant next to nothing to either male as they didn't give her a second glance. Paul didn’t know why, but this enraged him even more as he thought about what possible use she was for them.
Paul allowed puberty boy to get a glancing hit on him so he could fake dizziness. As expected, the fool leaped at the chance to finish him off.
Joqumoe must have sensed the tactic. “Ben, wait, he’s fa…”
But he was too late. Ben took a wide lefthanded slash at Paul’s seemingly exposed neck with his blade. Paul quickly ducked under his attack, slid inside his guard, and stuck his knife about three inches into the left side of Ben’s abdomen, away from any vital organs. It was a disabling blow, a non-fatal hit designed to disable. At least that was the intention.
Ben howled in pain, but instead of dropping his blade, he reversed it and attempted to bury it into Paul’s ear. Having no choice, Paul slid to his left. But this had two effects. First, it made Ben miss, as his blade whisked past the top of Paul’s head, which was good for Paul. The second was as Paul was moving to his left; Ben was twisting his body in the opposite direction. Unfortunately for Ben, Paul’s knife was still inside him. Paul’s blade traversed half of the teen’s body. Paul rolled away just as Ben’s intestines were getting their first-ever taste of fresh air.
At that point, things got even more hectic, as they tend to do when death enters a battle. Joqumoe screamed something about killing his brother before he lunged. Yes, Paul killed Ben, that was never his intention, but internal organs aren’t meant to be seen.
Where Joqumoe had been precise in his fighting before Ben’s disembowelment, he quickly became wild and sloppy. Emotion can blind even the best fighter and usually at the worst time. Joqumoe wasn’t the best, he was good, but it was the worse time for him. As for Paul, he simply fell back into his training. He ignored the blood-soaked body on the ground, the howling girl, and his role in killing a boy. He simply marked the corpse as an obstacle to be avoided and focused on the task at hand. A quick dodge of an errant kick, followed by a slice across an exposed tendon, a spin and a stab to Joqumoe’ s knee, and the fight was over. It should have been over there but-.
“You little piece of shit.” Joqumoe bared his strangely perfect teeth and raised his fists. “You think you’ve won. You think you can just walk away. I’ll find you and kill you. I’ll get you and your mom. I’ll slit her throat and fuck her dying body, right in your face.”
“All this for a few coins you didn’t earn. You could have just given it back. I never wanted to fight….”
“I’m going to kill you. Do you hear me? I swear it. I swear before the gods. I’ll wipe out your entire family.”
Joqumoe wasn’t listening. He continued like that for several minutes. Telling Paul all the vile things he was going to do to strangers, he robbed and attacked. Anyway, Paul lent him his ear; after all, he had killed the thief’s brother and crippled him for life. Paul figured he owed him something.
The sun was getting low; the girl was lying on the ground in a fetal position, silently looking from Paul to Joqumoe as if she was seeing both for the first time.
Her leader, or whatever Joqumoe was to her, had gone from screaming at Paul to yelling at her. “Crista, you bitch. Get up and kill him. Throw me your knife, and I’ll kill him. Crista!”
Paul shook his head, as if either of those options would work. He figured Joqumoe was in shock or insane. Paul didn’t much care which, but there were three things he quickly understood as the sun began to set.
1) He was running out of time; sooner or later, someone would come into the alley.
2) If someone did come, it was two voices against one, and he would be accused of murder.
3) Paul began to believe every threat Joqumoe made.
When Paul laid it all out logically, there was only one option.
While he was distracted, Paul jumped down upon the bleeding boy, pinning his arms.
“You little fuck. I’m going to kill you…” Joqumoe's mouth hung open, and his eyes grew wide as Paul pressed the tip of his knife to his throat.
Paul leaned to Joqumoe’ s ear. “I believe you.” He pushed the knife deep into the teen’s trembling flesh. When it hit resistance, Paul shoved harder, until he heard the crunch of bone. His throat was still spasming when Paul gave the blade a sharp twist. Joqumoe was terrible, but he was a fighter. He deserved a clean death.
Paul pulled out his bloody knife and then locked eyes with Crista. "Well, I guess you're not going to just forget all this, are you?"
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Derrick Williams, former soldier. reborn as: Paul Escamilla , baby Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. Joqumoe and Ben Garven. Teen thieves and robbers in town. Crista. ???? |
By lancellot
What was he supposed to do? Yeah, Paul knew he said that before, but she wouldn’t get up, she wouldn’t answer him, and he couldn’t leave her with two dead bodies. So, he picked her up, thankfully she was small, and put her on his back. He asked where she lived but only got silence, so he decided to carry her home.
Paul thought he was lucky as he was sure they looked like two innocent kids playing piggyback or that Crista was hurt, and he was carrying her home, which wasn’t far from the truth. A few people gave him a smile and a wave. He guessed they were friends or acquaintances of his parents who recognized him and were happy the Escamillas’ weird son had finally made a friend or was being chivalrous.
“Are... are you sure about this?” Crista’s voice was soft and timid, not to mention so unexpected Paul nearly dropped her.
He didn’t blame her for being frightened. He had just killed her two friends right before her eyes. Now he was whisking her off as if she were the spoils of war. “Yes, I’m sure. I’m taking you home.” That didn’t sound good, he thought. “My mom will take care of you like you’re her daughter,” he added, hoping it softened things.
“Oh.” After that, she went silent again for the rest of the trip through town.
Paul was grateful people seemed to guess he was struggling, and kindly they all moved out his way. Though no one offered aid beyond stepping aside and waving, he was satisfied with what he got.
At first, he didn’t intend to tell his parents the entire truth, but since he couldn’t be sure, Crista wouldn’t, he told everything. He did this in front of both his parents and Crista, who, having lived through it, simply stared off into space.
“I see,” Rosetta said, “and you carried this girl down Main street all by yourself through town?”
“Yes, she’s not that heavy, and people moved out of the way for me,” Paul answered.
“Of course, they did.” She smiled at Crista. “Well, what’s done is done. I guess I should look at those injuries. Come along, my daughter.” Rosetta extended her hand, and to Paul’s surprise, Crista took it without hesitation.
When both women left the room, Dominic stood and walked to the front door. “Come with me, Paul.”
Tired as he was, Paul followed his father outside.
Dominic stood on the small porch staring up at the cloudless night sky. “Close the door.”
Here comes a lecture, Paul thought, remembering his old uncle from Chicago. Paul shut the door and then turned to face his dad.
The fist came before Paul finished turning. It was so quick and unexpected; he had no time to react. Dominic’s huge right hand caught him just under the chin and lifted Paul off his feet. He crashed into the wooden door with a loud thump. Pain and stars filled his world as his legs gave, and his ass hit the floor. When the stars and colors cleared from his vision, he found himself looking directly at his father’s knotted brows and flaring nostrils. It took a few seconds for Paul to realize his father wasn’t kneeling. Paul was in the air looking straight at him with his feet dangling beneath him.
Paul was a soldier, or he used to be, so though Dominic was technically his father when under attack, his mind was conditioned to defend. Dominic held Paul up with one hand by his robes. When Paul saw his father’s left fist pull back, he acted on reflex. Paul reached out, grabbed his father’s ears, and pulled. He delivered a crashing headbutt into Dominic’s nose. It was a good shot but not as good as if he had more leverage, and it showed. Instead of dropping his son, he staggered back two steps, regained his balance, twirled on his heel, and sent Paul flying off the porch like a sack of garbage. Ten yards away, Paul hit the ground chest first and slid several more yards on the clay surface. Dazed, he vaguely thought he heard his mother’s voice, followed by the harsh barking of his father, and then the front door slamming shut.
Paul turned his head in time to see a colossal boot racing towards him. He half-rolled, causing the blow to just miss his ribs and scrap his skin. With his father’s right leg still in the air, Paul quickly slipped under him and delivered a sweeping kick to Dominic’s left leg. Paul’s ankle screamed out in protest as his father’s knee buckled.
Dominic grunted and quickly pulled himself off the ground. “Is that all you got? I expected more from a soldier.”
Paul didn’t know what had gotten into his usually reserved father, but it was clear he meant business. Paul staggered to his feet and raised his fists. “I got a lot more in the tank, old man.” That was a double lie. Dominic wasn’t old, and Paul was already exhausted from his previous battle, carrying Crista all the way home and taking his dad’s initial attack. Paul’s legs trembled as he stood and swallowed the salty blood in his mouth. In the back of his mind, he couldn’t understand how he was still standing.
“Oh, you do?” Dominic slowly began circling his son with his fists up. “The man inside the boy is ready to come out. Is that it?”
“Don’t let my size fool you. The man has always been out,” Paul replied, trying not to show his pain and fatigue.
“Prove it.”
Dominic came even faster than before. His right fist seemed a blur as it swung at Paul’s temple. Paul instinctively ducked, but as he went down, his father’s left fist came up, seemingly out of nowhere. The right fist had been a feint, and Paul fell for it. Dominic’s calloused knuckles dug deep into Paul’s jaw for a second time. Paul felt his entire bottom row of teeth die as he fell straight onto his back like a toppled tree. The teen expected to lose consciousness the second his head hit the ground, but a sharp burning pain in his scalp refused to let sleep take him.
Man, or boy Paul screamed in agony and grabbed hold of the mighty hand entwined in his dusty hair. He kicked franticly, futilely, sobbing and screaming like a child as he found himself again dangling in mid-air. For what seemed like hours, but wasn’t, Paul experienced the worst pain he had since being reborn. He was beyond knowing the difference between boy and man, beyond embarrassment over who heard him or saw him screaming, and he was beyond escape. This time he was held several feet away by his father’s single outstretched arm.
Through water-soaked eyes, he saw his father’s angry face and tightened his stomach muscles for the knock-out blow.
“A man… is that what you still think you are?”
To Paul’s surprise, tears were streaming down his father’s face too. “Let me tell you what a man is.”
Dominic opened his hand, and Paul dropped to the ground, landing hard on his narrow butt.
Paul struggled to lift his head as his father towered above him, full of masculine adult power, rage, and something else.
Dominic squatted in front of his boy and brought his fist to Paul’s face.
Paul was done; his throat burned like acid on sandpaper, his arms were dead weights, and his head felt like a red balloon about to burst. He closed his eyes and accepted his fate. When Paul dared open his eyes, Dominic’s thick finger pointed at his runny nose.
Softly Dominic spoke, “A man is responsible for his family. You are not a man, but I am, and I failed you, Paul. As a man and as a father. I blame myself for that. The day you spoke, walked, and generally behaved like an adult, I allowed myself to believe I couldn’t teach you much of anything. So, I didn’t. Things a father normally teaches his son, except for some light sword work, I didn’t do.”
Dominic withdrew his hand and sat on the ground, shaking his head as his tears freely fell.
The fight was over, Paul had lost, or perhaps they both had. Paul didn’t know for sure because it was apparent, they both were in pain just from different causes.
“Son, a man doesn’t expose his family to danger because he’s curious. A man doesn’t walk through the world blindly, as if nothing he sees is real. For sixteen years now, I’ve allowed you to live like you were visiting. That was wrong of me. I should have taught you how this world works, the rules, the customs, the expectations, but I... I didn’t. You were so different, exceptional even. I didn’t teach how to walk, how to dress, or about women. I never saw your first steps or heard your first words. Hell, you can read and write better than I can. You seemed so old, so lived. When you spoke of returning to your old world, I thought, what am I but a guardian at the least or a landlord at the most? I began not to see myself as a parent. The truth is, I resented losing what normal dads have in raising a boy into a man. So, I mostly turned away.”
The guilt began to hurt Paul more than his aching body and throbbing scalp. He didn’t know what to say about his father’s feelings. They were genuine and honest, but it was too late to begin pretending to be something he never was. So, he decided to focus on his present mistakes. “I’m sorry what I took from you, and today, I know I should never have allowed mom to be -.” Paul wiped fresh tears from his eyes. “That was dangerous and probably the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. It could have easily led to her being hurt or gotten myself hung.”
Dominic burst out in full-throated laughter. “Oh, you really don’t know anything.”
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Derrick Williams, former soldier. reborn as: Paul Escamilla , baby Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. Joqumoe and Ben Garven. Teen thieves and robbers in town. Crista. ???? |
By lancellot
Again, his father shook his head. “I am a captain in the City Watch. Do you think I would not have trained my wife in self-defense? You are fortunate she wasn’t out here instead of me. When she gets going, she doesn’t know when to stop, and she seldom tires. I still don’t know how or why she didn’t take you as a demon and kill you the first time you... um fed yourself at her teat.” He immediately started laughing again.
Paul could not believe what he was hearing. Rosetta had never shown any sign of aggression or anger. “I didn’t know.”
His father’s face became still. “No, you didn’t, and that is the problem. You are here, but you’re not. You behave like a man on holiday, like a tourist who expects to go home at the end of the week. Paul, I do not pretend to know how your - reincarnation happened. I am not well versed in such things, but I do know you are here. And I see no reason to believe you will not remain here until you die unless you know of another way to return to-. What did you call it, Murica?”
“America, and no, I don’t know how to return. I’m sure my old body has long been buried and turned to dust, so-.” Paul looked around and then at his torn robes and bruised hands. “Well, at least there was no harm done.” As soon as he said it, he knew he was wrong.
Dominic sighed deeply. “Perhaps, perhaps not. You murdered two people, Paul.” Before he could protest, Dominic raised his hand, cutting him off. “As far as the King’s law is concerned, that is what you did, and you have no witnesses to say otherwise.”
Paul could not let that slide. “There is Crista. She saw…”
Again, his father shook his head. “Your woman does not count.”
Paul stared at his father with a blank look on his face.
“Slaves have no voice in the Kingdom,” he continued.
“Slave? I didn’t...” he couldn’t finish. The look in his father’s eyes and his words echoed in his head. Of course, I didn’t know.
“And that’s your problem. You don’t know. You probably didn’t know slavery existed here at all. You didn’t know about the youth gangs. You didn’t know that as our minor child, you can not be held responsible for your actions. Your mother and I would be held accountable for the lives you took today.”
Paul’s eyes opened wide, and his swollen lips parted in silence. He wanted to protest, but his father was right. He didn’t know one meaningful thing about Valeria, not a single law, nothing at all. No wonder father was so angry. Only one thought has been my mind. My God, what have I been doing?
They sat in the silence for several minutes before Dominic rose and extended a hand down to his son. “As your mother stated, what’s done is done. Fortunately, there were no witnesses, and I am a Captain in the City Watch, so suspicion should not fall upon my son. I trust you at least concealed the bodies?”
“Yes, I put them…,” Paul lowered his head. “Well, I put them in a trash bin.”
Dominic nodded and led Paul back to the house. “Good, perhaps it will be days before they are found. That, at least, will make it look like a robbery, and you would be nowhere near the scene. Tomorrow, we will go to the town hall and register your woman. I will scribe you a bill of sale with Joqumoe’s mark on it. Thank the three gods, I’ve seen it enough times over the years.”
Paul did not argue as it was clear he was more than a little ignorant, but he was so confused he had to get some clarity. “What do you mean, register my woman? If Crista is a slave, can’t we just free her?”
For the third time that night, his father broke out in laughter. This time it was so boisterous that Paul laughed too briefly before his swollen lip split, and he realized he didn’t know why he was laughing. Dominic laughed to the door where Rosetta stood, holding it open for them. She didn’t say anything, just pulled the robes off them both, leaving them only in their kilts. She sat them down and began tending their wounds. Dominic had only a scratch on the bridge of his nose. Paul appeared to require most of her attention.
As Rosetta worked on her boy, Dominic turned him, “Son, when you carried your… Crista on your back through town, did she say anything to you?”
It was an odd question, and Paul had to concentrate. He remembered Crista was mostly silent. “Yes, I think she asked me if I was sure and where I was taking her.”
“And your response?” Rosetta asked, dabbing ointment on his split lip.
Still, not seeing the point, he answered, “I told her yes, and that I was taking her home. I may have said something about you accepting her or something. I couldn’t leave her, and I didn’t know where else to take her.” Paul looked up at his mom, who strangely had a small grin on her face.
She finished up by washing his puffy face and kissing him on the forehead.
Dominic sighed again. “This isn’t your fault alone. I should have taught you this long ago. When your mother and I were betrothed, I was but two years older than you." He looked up his wife. "I knew she was the one for me a year earlier, but I was too afraid to say it. I was proud to carry her weight through town for all to see when I got the chance.”
Paul still didn’t get the point, and a part of him didn’t care. He was minutes from collapsing, and his entire body throbbed like his fat lip. He looked from his father to his mother.
Smiling, Rosetta said, “You see, Paul, by carrying Crista through town and to your home, you were declaring to all that she was yours, and you would bear her weight in the world from this day to your last day. You told everyone Crista was your wife.”
Paul gasped. He had briefly wondered why Crista did not struggle as he carried her. He simply assumed she was in shock over what she witnessed. It also explained the people’s weird behavior. “But… wait, you said she was a slave.” Paul understood he was grasping at straws, but he couldn’t help himself.
Rosetta simply shrugged.
His father winced as Rosetta tended to the small cut on his nose. He then looked at Paul. “When you were beating Joqumoe, did he ever ask Crista for help?”
The image of Joqumoe begging Crista for a knife flashed in my mind. “I do, but she…”
“Did nothing, right? You were proving your dominance over her master. She was a piece of property that went to the winner. Not only did you win, but then you took her in marriage. It is a great day as far as she is concerned.”
It was too much. Paul shook his head in denial but immediately stopped as a wave of dizziness washed over him. “I don’t want a wife or a slave.”
This time both his parents shrugged.
His father put his hand on his shoulder. “You are of age, Paul. You took her from her master by trial of combat. You then, ignorant or not, told the world she was to be your wife. By law and custom, you cannot sell Crista. She is your slave until you formally wed. She can only be free upon her death or yours.”
Rosetta completed her pretend doctoring of Paul and picked up her supplies. “And, as this is your home, so it has become Crista’s home. She is now a part of this family and your responsibility, as you are ours.”
Dominic stood, wrapped his arm around his wife, and they both headed towards their room. They stopped at the door, and then Dominic said, “Go, wash yourself up and get to bed.” He raised a finger into the air. “Go to sleep, Paul. You need to recover your full strength, for tomorrow, your apprenticeship begins.”
Rosetta then raised her smaller finger. “You are still our child, and our rules still govern this house. Crista is fifteen, and I do not know if she is ready for the full duties of a wife yet. I have already spoken to her. She will do as you command, so long as those commands are in line with our rules. There is one important rule you two must not break until I am satisfied she is ready. I don’t think I need to tell you what that is, do I?”
“No, Mother,” Paul answered, remembering his father's words about his mother's fighting abilities.
“Good night, Paul,” they said as they entered their room and shut the door on his second childhood.
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Derrick Williams, former soldier. reborn as: Paul Escamilla , 16 yrs old Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier, 36 yrs old Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress, 35 yrs old Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. 50 yrs Joqumoe and Ben Garven. Teen thieves and robbers in town. Crista. Paul's 15 year old slave/wife (sort of) |
By lancellot
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of sexual content.
Paul awoke the next day stiff and pleasantly warm. Sunlight streamed through his single window, and his instincts told him it was between nine and ten o’clock. The slender tanned arm draped around his waist told him everything from yesterday was not a dream. He laid there, shamelessly enjoying the warmth of another body, when it occurred to him that he could feel all of Crista’s body on his. Paul quickly lifted the blanket and gasped. He was naked, and he wasn't the only one; Crista’s gown was gone too.
Shocked, he began to recall bits and pieces of a tender and romantic dream. He was back in college, and his girlfriend was lovingly caressing and kissing him under the covers—something they frequently did as quietly as possible not to embarrass his roommate. Paul looked at Crista’s arm again and realized just how low on him it was, and when he followed it down to her hand. He quickly understood the seeds of his dream were planted in reality.
He carefully disengaged himself from Crista and then sat on the edge of ‘their’ little bed. On a peg on the wall, he saw both their nightgowns neatly hanging. It seemed that Crista misinterpreted his expectations last night, or he talked in his sleep, and she obeyed.
There was a single knock on his door, and then it opened. Dominic took one step in, looked down at Paul and Crista, and then simply shook his head. “Well, I see you are determined to be a man. Get dressed and meet me outside, Mr. Man.” With that, he turned and closed the door behind him.
You may be wondering why Paul didn’t tell his father that nothing happened between him and Crista. Well, the truth is, Paul wasn’t sure what took place. Briefly, he considered examining the sheets but assumed as a slave Crista wasn’t a virgin, and perhaps no longer was he. Paul decided to check himself for signs of…crustiness. He saw none. But then she could have cleaned him afterward. He was thinking hard when he felt her move.
Smiling, Crista threw off the blanket and sat next to him. If she was embarrassed about being naked with him, she showed no sign of it.
Paul felt like a young boy caught playing house with the neighbor girl... again. He fought hard not to look at her but failed miserably. He had to admit, Crista was petite but exceptionally well built, like a young gymnast. He knew he was blushing because he could feel the rush of blood filling his face, and his heart pounding like crazy in his chest. He glanced over at Crista, who was calmly looking down at his lap. Paul followed her gaze to discover that his face wasn’t the only thing filling with blood. He knew he should be embarrassed, but the old adult part of him was quite proud of the above-average display he presented.
Luckily, Crista only gave him a kiss on the cheek, before slipping on her gown and leaving the room.
Wasting no time, Paul pulled on his gown and sandals then ran outside to the privy. The cold morning air instantly chilled his hot blood. Paul was relieved his erection was retreating. He stood in the grass for a few seconds allowing nature to do what he was unable to. He was almost back to normal when Crista exited the privy.
She walked up to him, looked at his shrinking bulge. “Oh.” She shrugged, gave him another peck on the cheek, and then walked into the house.
Paul said nothing. He shook his head and went to the privy. His bladder emptied, his manhood relaxed, and his mind cleared. Paul laid a hand on the damp wooden wall of the little 6 feet by six feet box they used as a privy and shook his head. I’ve got to do something about this. It is too many of us for this medieval trash, he thought.
By the time Paul got back to his room, he had convinced himself that nothing more than a little gentle caressing occurred last night. Crista not doing anything when she saw him erect meant she was following his mother’s orders. Or she was just emptying her bladder before the fun began, as women tended to do.
He found the bed made in their room, his clothes for the day neatly laid out, a rinsing bowl, pitcher of water, and no Crista.
Cleaned and dressed, he found Crista sitting in the kitchen with her head down and Rosetta frowning. A single plate with buttered toasts, a piece of fruit, and a cup of water was on the table.
Rosetta pointed to the plate. “You’re late. Grab that and join your father outside. Don’t worry about Crista; we’ve got a few things of our own to do.”
Paul grabbed the toast, looked at the now two females in his life, turned for the door, and then a voice in head shouted, wait. Paul turned, walked to Crista, and kissed her on the lips. He meant it as a reassurance as she would be all alone in a new place with a new person. When her face turned a deep shade of red, he realized the kiss meant something else to her. Having no time to deal with that, Paul ran out of the house.
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Derrick Williams, former soldier. reborn as: Paul Escamilla , 16 yrs old Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier, 36 yrs old Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress, 35 yrs old Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. 50 yrs Joqumoe and Ben Garven. Teen thieves and robbers in town. Crista Escamilla. Paul's 16 year old slave/wife Note: In this fantasy world, as it was in our own during the past (and still in some places), most people married and began family while in their mid teens; as life expectancy was usually less than fifty years for common folk. |
By lancellot
Father and son walked down the dusty road leading to town in silence. Paul knew he should be enjoying the perfect weather, the clear sky, or the full green trees, but none of that kept his attention. Occasionally, he would glance at his father expecting a word, but got nothing. It was also a bit weird to see him armed and dressed in his light armor on his day off. His face showed no expression, which meant to Paul that he was on business. Paul wondered if he was still a bit angry about all the things Paul had done wrong.
“Father, I realize that I am not quite a man in this world, both body and mind, but I am not a boy either. I have made many errors, and I want you to know that I intend to do all I can to make amends for the troubles I have caused. I know it has not been easy for either of you. Having a son like me can’t be a dream come true. And, and I love you both.” That little speech had been rolling around in his head as we walked. Paul thought it was concise, with just the right amount of manly emotion.
Dominic still said nothing, just kept walking. Once in town, several men greeted them warmly. A couple of people patted Paul on the back and offered warm wishes on his impending matrimony.
“Well, young Paul is a man now. Out from under Rosie’s shadow at last.” A man Paul knew of as Gilford the blacksmith stopped them. He was a big man with arms like tree trunks and a chest three times as thick as Paul’s. “I take it, he’ll be apprenticing with you now, ah Dom?”
For the first time that day, Dominic smiled. With a little extra bass in his voice, he said, “Yes, my friend, it seems the time has come at last. My son,” he placed a heavy hand on Paul’s shoulder, “has been smitten and now has to pay.”
“Yes, I saw him the other day carrying the little lass’s weight. He seemed a bit shaky, but knowing his father, I was sure he was going to make it home.” Gilford laughed heartedly and patted his fat belly. “Yes, he reminded me of when I carried my Deloris through town. Although she denies it, she was at least twelve stones. If not for my apprenticeship as a smith, I doubt I would have been able to carry her. Gods know I can’t now, but don't tell her I said that.”
Gilford and his father laughed and talked a bit more before saying their farewells.
Dominic suddenly stopped and looked at his son. “Paul, you do know Valeria is the name of the kingdom in which we live and not this city?”
Paul merely nodded. He did know the actual name of their town was Florence, and the lord of the region was his grace, Duke Cedric Reinhard III. He did not tell his father he only recently learned that and quite by happenstance. He didn't want to appear too ignorant.
His father paused a second, seemingly wanting to say more but thought better of it, and they continued walking.
Florence Town Hall was three stories high and twice as wide as the local inn. It served as the center of town government and a satellite site of the Adventurers Guild. The first floor was their destination. After sixteen years, it was his first time entering the building. Paul found the scene heart pounding as it resembled something out of a fantasy novel or Japanese manga.
Covering an entire wall was a map of Eastland, the continent containing the three kingdoms on the planet of - Paul didn’t know. If the world had a name, he had never heard it mentioned or seen it written.
The map on the wall showed the continent of Westland. Think Australia, roughly divided into three slices, like a somewhat round pizza. God, I miss those, Paul thought. The three kingdoms: Valeria, Agathon, and The Amarion Union. Well, that last one was more of a collection of cities, unified into a country. It was once a Kingdom, so most outside of the Union still called it one.
Most importantly, the three kingdoms were bordered by The Great Divide, an inhospitable stretch of desert separating the kingdoms. Think of a thick giant “Y” in the middle of that pizza. The empty spaces are the kingdoms, and the lines are hellish desert, but not deserted, oh no, if only it were. If there were other lands beyond the oceans bordering Westland, the map did not show them, and he had never heard of any other lands.
Now, Paul was unaware of all of this. After his father had signed them in (they had to wait their turn), they stood in front of that map. It was then that Dominic began filling in the many gaps in his son’s knowledge of the world.
Dominic quickly looked around to make sure they were not within earshot of anyone before he spoke. “More than once you’ve mentioned, in your previous life, you were a soldier. Before, I had some doubts about that, but after last night, I have come to see it was true. You still have much to learn, but I was impressed considering your size and condition."
Paul’s father had complimented him and mentioned his previous life. Unlike his mother, that was something Dominic rarely acknowledged beyond last night. “Thank you,” Paul said.
“Well, it is true, and it makes our task that much easier.” He pointed to the map and proceeded to tell his son about Westland and Valeria. “Can you tell me where the town of Florence is?”
Paul pointed to a black circle on the lowest portion of the upper kingdom.
“Yes, so you can read maps. I had assumed military training in any world included it. As you can see, Florence is the southernmost city closest to the Great Divide. Unlike the rest of our border, the forest between our region and the desert is thin. It is for that reason, the City Watch and the Duke’s guard play an important role in keeping the desert bandits and occasional wild creature at bay.”
Paul’s father explained his role in the Watch and his post on the main gate. Paul asked questions, and Dominic answered. They talked for at least an hour, and it was the longest time they had ever spoken. They even spoke of Paul’s accidental marriage declaration. When Paul again asked if there was any way out of it, Dominic just laughed.
Paul decided to come clean, “When you saw me naked with Crista this morning, it was not because I took her. Nothing happened last night. We simply woke up that way.”
Dominic laughed again. “Your mother and I argued about you two last night. She assured me that Crista would not rape you or become pregnant without her consent.”
Paul thought that funny, but considering Crista’s possible experiences, he had to concede that, at least in this life, Crista probably had more experience than he. Paul was also shocked when his father explained that Valeria's women differed from those on Earth or in other kingdoms in one crucial way.
“Most women in Valeria can choose when to become pregnant.” Dominic shrugged. “Exactly how, I do not precisely know as I am not a surgeon, and it is something women do not openly speak of with men.”
Last night when Paul was getting his head bashed in, his mother confirmed that Crista could ‘somewhat’ do this. Because of her age and small size, Rosetta thought it best to prevent them from having sex until Crista was more mature. Paul thought the no-sex thing was more because they were not yet married, but his father explained again, Paul and Crista were married in every sense but a ceremony, which some didn’t bother doing.
“Paul, Crista is your slave, and by custom already your wife. Because of those two factors, she would do whatever you request, be it wise or not, and even if you do not expressly state it. That is a huge responsibility, Paul, so always be aware of it.”
Paul again thought about waking up naked and what may have happened in his sleep. He never asked Crista to do anything, but he couldn’t deny his body likely responded to her presence, and she, in turn, responded to it.
When the clerk finally called their names, Paul was sad their talk had come to an end, but he was hopeful it would be but the first of many such conversations.
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Derrick Williams, former soldier. reborn as: Paul Escamilla , 16 yrs old Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier, 36 yrs old Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress, 35 yrs old Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. 50 yrs Joqumoe and Ben Garven. Teen thieves and robbers in town. Crista Escamilla. Paul's 16 year old slave/wife |
By lancellot
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Derrick Williams, former soldier. reborn as: Paul Escamilla , 16 yrs old Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier, 36 yrs old Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress, 35 yrs old Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. 50 yrs Joqumoe and Ben Garven. Teen thieves and robbers in town. Crista Escamilla. Paul's 16 year old slave/wife Sara. Clerk with Town Hall and Guild. 25 yrs, single. |
By lancellot
| Author Note: | The photo is Rosetta |
Previous chapter:
On the way out of town, Paul spotted a florist shop that had just what he needed. Paul purchased a bouquet that got a roar of laughter from his father. Paul had lost track of the credit he owed, but his father hadn’t. He said Paul should break even in about six months. Paul had other ideas about that. He was beginning to think of money-making opportunities only he could do, but that would require capital he didn’t have.
~
Today's post:
It was dark when they finally got home. Dominic and Paul found the table set, the food untouched, and steam rising from the four plates. Rosetta and Crista stood by the table with huge smiles on their faces.
“Well, it looks like our timing was perfect,” Rosetta said as she leaned in to kiss her husband. She then stepped back and gave him a sideways look. “What?”
His father pulled his hand from behind his back. “For you, from...”
“Flowers! Oh, you did remember.” She snatched the colorful arraignment from Dominic’s hand, did a little twirl, and immediately showed them to Crista.
Paul looked at his dad, and he looked at him. Paul quickly shook his head. He had no idea what his mother was talking about. Paul bought the flowers to thank Rosetta for the trouble he caused her. He knew enough about women to know she had been just as angry and hurt as Dominic but wouldn’t resort to beating his ass across the lawn. The only reason his father held the flowers was that Paul’s arms were full.
Paul didn’t know what his father was going to do, and since his mother was happy, he didn’t care who she thought the flowers were from.
Rosetta flew at Dominic and began to smother him with more kisses. Paul motioned to Crista to follow him, and they left his parents alone.
Inside his room, he tossed his purchases on his little table, closed the door behind Crista, and then pulled out the contract. He held it up to her. She stared at it in silence for a few seconds before he realized she couldn’t read. He didn’t know anything about her, but as a slave, Paul should have guessed she couldn’t read or write. He would have to begin teaching her as soon as he could.
“This contract makes it official. You are now part of our family. As far as anyone is concerned, I purchased you from Joqumoe for marriage. But, if that’s not what you want, I will find a way to set you free.”
“What I want… I… I am yours. You killed Joq. You killed them both. Then you took me. You took my weight and let everyone see it. You did that for me. For me.” Her eyes began to pool, and tears soon ran down her face. “I belong to you now. I have a home.”
She began to sob uncontrollably. Paul didn’t know if it was joy, relief, or confusion. He opened his arms wide, and she fell into him. They held onto each other for what seemed liked hours. Paul was way out of practice, but he remembered enough not let go until her tears stopped, and they eventually did. They didn’t talk during that time. They didn’t need to. Paul stroked her short brown hair and held her close, and that seemed to be communication enough.
When they went back to the kitchen, Paul’s parents were gone. Two plates were covered and left on the table. The savory aroma of cold rabbit and onion stew filled Paul’s nose and reminded him that he had skipped lunch. He wished for a microwave for at least the hundredth time, but he was hungry, so cold or not, down it went. Later, Paul cleaned and put away the dishes while Crista fetched water for their nightly wash up. To Paul, it didn’t feel so weird being nude together in the family’s small washroom as it was waking up that morning. To him, it felt as if something had changed between him and Crista, like somehow, they were a bit less than the strangers they had been.
***
Dominic and Rosetta lay in bed, covered in sweat. Rosetta’s head was on her husband’s chest. It was one of her many favorites positions as she got to listen to his heartbeat. She loved how it pounded; many times, she tried to get him to match that same rhythm from behind. She smiled, thinking back to just a few minutes ago. “You almost got it tonight, Dom, but for a minute, I thought you were going to have a heart attack.”
Dominic laughed. “I almost did. I swear by the gods, woman. One of these days, you’re going kill me. I don’t where you get the strength.” He rubbed his callused hand over the soft skin of her back. “You know, those flowers were…”
“From Paul, yes, I knew the moment you came into the house.” Rosetta placed her warm hand on Dominic’s muscled stomach.
Dominic shivered at the touch. He wasn’t cold, just afraid. He knew once or twice sometimes wasn’t enough for his wife. “If you knew, then why didn’t you say it? Why all this?”
Rosetta sat up and straddled her husband. She reached below her and repositioned his softness to where even limp it could do some good. “First, Mr. Escamilla, I don’t need a reason to take my husband.” Her eyes bore into Dominic’s eyes. “Second, I had a good day and a nice talk with Crista. I like her. It is almost like having a daughter. I think she is just what Paul needs to grow up. So, I was happy.” She wiggled her hips upon him. “And third, Paul doesn’t have any money, so in the end, you purchased the flowers anyway. Besides, I don’t care which of my men brings me a gift. When I want you, I’m going to take you.” She began slowly grinding her hips. “And, now I want you again.”
Dominic sighed and threw up his hands. “I sorry, my love, I don’t think I can.”
Rosetta smiled, leaned forward, placed her lips against his ear, and whispered, “If you can speak, then you have all the strength you need for what I want next.”
Dominic’s eyes were wide open when soft, warm darkness descended over them and he got to work pleasing his insatiable wife.
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Derrick Williams, former soldier. reborn as: Paul Escamilla , 16 yrs old Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier, 36 yrs old Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress, 35 yrs old Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. 50 yrs Joqumoe and Ben Garven. Teen thieves and robbers in town. Crista Escamilla. Paul's 16 year old slave/wife Sara. Clerk with Town Hall and Guild. 25 yrs, single. This section really is a look into Rosetta. I know it may look excessive, but trust me. There is a reason for everything, including how Rosetta behaves. It is important to the story, what has already happened and what will happen. The devil is in the details. |
By lancellot
| Author Note: | Mind the warnings. |
Captain Mathews and his squad were in-country. It was dry, hot, and dusty, the kind of place most Americans were lucky enough never to see, and they couldn’t understand people fighting over it. Derick’s luck had not made the trip from the states with him. The captain knew that because he had drawn latrine duty.
The Army was like that; unless you were a Major or above, your name and squad went into the hat. Most didn’t complain, officer, tech, or ranger; they all had to take a dump sooner or later, and that meant digging a big ass hole. Fact is next to water and food; a proper latrine kept more soldiers alive than his M-16. Derick’s buddy, Frank, who also had back luck, was shoveling next to him.
Frank was a natural redhead, complete with porcelain skin, strawberry red hair, and freckles. So, it made sense that working in the relentless sun was agony for the man. Frank often prattled about anything he’d read to keep his mind off the pain and burns everyone knew would come. As his friend, Derick pretended to listen with interest to the man’s tales.
“You know, some scholars think it was the Romans, who made the first public waste system to carrying away shit, but it was Africans. They built a running water network and a sewer system that carried human waste away from their city. That’s the sign of an advanced civilization, not electricity, not roads, or even schools. It is a proper shitter. Ha, when it comes right down to it, humanity rises and falls one dump at a time.”
It was a theory Derick heard from Frank before, and each time he told it, the names of the people changed, Mayans, Greeks, Turks, and Japanese, but the punch line always remained the same. Frank went on with one historical tale after another as they dug sewer lines and put up prefab toilets. It was hard work, but when your friends are with you, it didn’t matter.
Paul awoke to the sound of knocking. “Sir, yes, Sir,” he responded in English, as his dream began to fade.
“Skip that crazy language, Paul. It’s time for training.” His dad’s voice was like a splash of cold water.
Wide awake, he lay in bed on his back and enjoyed the warmth. That night he and Crista went to bed in their nightgowns. There was no need to look; he could feel Crista’s nude form nestled against his, with one of her legs draped over his hips, her left arm encircled his right arm, her tiny right hand rested over his heart, and her soft exhales tickled the teen whiskers on his chin.
The teen that he was enjoyed every moment. The older man inside also did but with a bit of trepidation. A part of Paul was still Derick, a 32-year-old man. That part felt a sharp pang of guilt over being in bed with, as his old friend, Frank, called it: Louisiana jailbait.
“Do you have to go now, Master?” Crista whispered in his ear.
Paul’s muscles tensed and then relaxed. He didn’t know why he was surprised if his dad woke him; it was only logical that he woke Crista too. Paul supposed that she didn’t attempt to untangle herself from him because he did not order it. Paul looked at his little window and saw that it was still dark. Sunrise was about an hour away. His father would not leave until then, as he did not like carrying a lantern, and there were too many dangers in the dark. “Not now, but in an hour,” he replied, then added, “You can call me Paul or whatever you like.”
Crista pulled herself even closer to his body, her slender thigh resting over his growing happiness. She pressed her open hips closer to him, and Paul felt her heat and dampness express what was on her mind. She lightly placed her lips to his ear. Her hand left his heart, slid down under her thigh, and wrapped around his hardness. “I like Master or maybe... Husband.”
If she said more, he didn’t hear it as she kissed and nibbled his ear while gently stroking him. Paul should have stopped her, but when she began grinding herself upon his leg and moaning seductively, his mind became foggy. Paul reached under her small frame and lifted her onto him with ease.
Instantly, their mouths found each other.
Crista was without hesitation or fear. Her gyrations and enthusiasm spoke of her desire.
Far, far in the back of Paul’s mind, was his mother’s stern voice. “Do not take her.” But, even louder was another voice urging, Do it, do it. Just a little; she wants it. She belongs to you; take her. It’s been so long. And it had been. From Paul’s point of view, it was over seventeen years since he had last known a woman. Almost two years on active duty away from his girlfriend in the states, and fifteen years in his new virgin body. But Crista was fifteen in mind and body. Only fifteen. Much too young to be a mother. A mother in this world, with no hospital, no real doctors, and I. What am I doing?
“Wait, wait, Crista,” he said in between kisses. He wanted to stop, but he still held onto her petite waist and moved with her as she ground back and forth, faster and faster. So, warm, so slippery, back and forth, almost, almost. He felt himself slide into her just a little.
She gasped, and they froze in place.
Heat and pleasure twirled in his mind like two gladiators fighting. One a champion of reason, the other a slave of lust, and lust was winning. Paul pushed his hips up while pulling hers down. She didn’t resist as her warm body parted to accept more of him inside.
“Oh!" Her internal muscles squeezed upon him. Her face rested on his neck, and her teeth found his earlobe.
Paul stopped there, half in, half out. “Are you okay? Am I hurting you?” he asked in trembling voice.
“I’m fine. It's not my first time. I like the way you feel.” She reached back, wrapped her hands around his wrists. "You can go deeper.”
Paul held her still. His mind was screaming at him: No, no, you’re too young to be a dad. She’s too small to be a mother. What’s wrong with you? Stop!
But he didn’t want to stop. Burning inside him was a desire, unlike any he had ever felt before. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. His toes curled, his teeth ached and manhood felt like it was giant sized. He wanted Crista, no, that wasn’t it exactly. His mind screamed the truth. More! I want it. I want it! And he really didn't care what woman was with him.
Paul felt his hands squeeze Crista’s narrow hips and begin to pull her down. He felt more of his hardness sink into her, and it was glorious. She was no longer Crista. She was ice cream, sugar, cocaine; she was warm wet heaven and he was only halfway in. Somewhere, far off, he heard her moan or speak or whimper. Paul couldn’t tell, and the horrible truth was. She could cry out in agony, or burst into flames he was going to fuck her until his penis fell off. He was never going to stop.
“Paul!” Dominic’s voiced boomed.
The shout had come from outside the house. Paul turned to the window and saw sunlight streaming in. The sun had risen without his noticing. Actually, half the roof could have blown off, and he would’ve missed that too.
Paul’s mind began to clear. He turned his eyes from the window and sighed in relief. He silently thanked his dad. “That’s was close, we almost…”
Paul expected to see Crista’s face looking down at him in disappointment for teasing her, but instead, her face was on his chest, she was panting, and her body trembled as it rose and fell.
It was then that he noticed they were both covered in sweat, and he was no longer partially inside Crista; he was entirely within her throbbing like a wild heart, and his hips were still moving up and down.
“What, how, when?” He quickly rolled Crista off of him and onto the bed. He couldn’t believe his eyes as he looked upon her. Crista had dark handprint bruises on her hips, thighs, waist, and breasts. She also had teeth marks surrounding her now red engorged nipples; her vagina was in the same condition and soaked in what could only be semen. Paul shook his head as tears began to roll down his sticky face. “No, I didn’t. We didn’t. I don’t… no!” He felt his wet erection wilt in shame.
Crista’s eyes fluttered open. Her small hand rose and settled on his cheek. “It’s okay, Master. You can do me back there again. I can take it this time."
Paul's gagged. “What? I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to. I don’t, I don’t know what happened.”
Crista meekly smiled. "I'm fine." She pulled Paul’s face down, and kissed him.
As their quivering lips touched, Paul felt heat flare within him, his awareness dim, and his penis throb as it slowly began to enter her warmth again. He quickly yanked himself away. "When did...?"
He jumped off the bed. His eyes looked down at Crista's raised and spread legs. When did I do that? I just leaned and kissed her. I never-. Movement below called for his attention. He looked down at himself. “That can’t be.”
Crista also stared at Paul's erection. The look on her face mirrored the one on her master, except her eyes. "So, you aren't sleepy."
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Derrick Williams, former soldier. reborn as: Paul Escamilla , 16 yrs old Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier, 36 yrs old Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress, 35 yrs old Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. 50 yrs Joqumoe and Ben Garven. Teen thieves and robbers in town. Crista Escamilla. Paul's 16 year old slave/wife Sara. Clerk with Town Hall and Guild. 25 yrs, single. This Chapter is not specifically about sex, as with the last. It is about characteristics within Paul. Not just what, but how and why. All these clues are important to the story so far and later on. |
By lancellot
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
With Crista’s tired but dutiful help, Paul was dressed and out in less than ten minutes. As he walked with his father, Paul was still shaken about why he didn’t remember ravaging Crista or losing control of himself, but as she assured him she was okay, he decided to put that mystery off until later. Paul took several breaths of fresh air and attempted to clear his mind.
One of the great things about Valeria, Paul noted, was the complete lack of smog or pollution in the air. He mentioned that once to his mother and got only a quizzical shrug. She, like everyone else, had no concept of the modern world's gifts or curses. Paul turned his face to the clear blue sky and took another deep breath of nature’s wonder.
Dominic looked over at his son. “Should I even ask why you took so long getting out of bed or what all that moaning was about? Or, should I have your mother question Crista when I return?”
Paul had never lied to his parents. He didn’t consider his silence as a baby lying. But, when he looked at his father, with the memory of Crista’s bruised body replaying in his mind, he knew he couldn't confess.
Dominic took a deep breath before continuing, “Your mother worries. It’s not like she doesn’t believe you would be a good husband or Crista, a good wife. She likes the girl. I think she wants you to be sure of your path before making a family.”
“Teen pregnancy is a worrying thing, no matter the world. I will take better care. I must teach Crista to read and write first. For myself, I know I need a trade, money, and land to build a home if I’m to stay...” Paul let his voice trail off. The idea of staying in this world was something he had always avoided speaking of openly. Now with Crista, what do I do? If I found a way back. Do I take her with me? Could I take her with me? Was my old world better than this one? So many things he had not considered flooded his mind. As they walked, Paul marveled at how fast the introduction of a woman altered your life.
“We will be there soon.” Dominic stopped and lay his hand on his son’s shoulder. “I don’t know if you can return to the world you came from. I know you’ve always wanted to go home. Your mother… your mother and I want you to be happy, and you need not worry about your woman. Your mother is already teaching her to read, write, and the other things a free woman and wife must know.” He turned and began walking again.
Paul was glad his mother was teaching Crista. Dominic spoke of Paul being happy, but Paul knew his happiness wasn’t all that mattered. Paul was his son, reincarnated soul or not, he was Dominic’s blood, and Paul wanted to leave him. That desire had nearly gotten Rosetta killed... maybe. Paul would not let it ruin anything else. If a way back existed, great, he would cross that bridge when he found it, but until then, he had to make the best of the home he had. He had to protect and provide for his family in the here and now. Paul thought that was a fear his mother had about Crista becoming pregnant. That he would not truly be there for her or their child if he made one.
“This is a good world. I have a wonderful family and home, father.”
They said no more on the subject that day, and Dominic did not press his son on breaking his word about Crista. Paul would find out later his parents had assumed he would; they were young once too.
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Derrick Williams, former soldier. reborn as: Paul Escamilla , 16 yrs old Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier, 36 yrs old Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress, 35 yrs old Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. 50 yrs Joqumoe and Ben Garven. Teen thieves and robbers in town. Crista Escamilla. Paul's 16 year old slave/wife Alfred and Algar: 16 twin boys from town. Watch cadets Parcell Chambers: 16, male Watch cadet. Master Fenwick Dougal: 50s, former soldier in the Kingdom�????�???�??�?�¢??s army, Watch instructor. |
By lancellot
Six weeks into their training, Fenwick had only one squad and seven loose cadets lined up in the courtyard. Over half the original cadets were gone, but if one looked at the way Master Fenwick behaved, one would not be able to tell anything had changed.
Fenwick smiled. “Tomorrow, we will go on a little training exercise. A northbound merchant caravan will be a day out by then. We’ve received word that she had been hit twice by bandits already.”
A small murmur rose from the cadets. Fenwick raised his hands, and quiet fell on the group.
“Don’t wet yourselves. They aren’t likely to face much this close to us. But, the Watch must aid all within a day of our border if requested.” He held up a thin slip of parchment. “And they have so requested.”
The younger cadets all looked at each other with smiles on their faces. The thrill of adventure was in their eyes. The three older men wore no such expression. Paul’s face mirrored theirs. Patrolling streets in town and rousing drunkards too stupid to find a hole to sleep in was all the excitement they wanted. Paul understood that all too well. For a soldier, boredom meant safety and the promise of going home.
Fenwick turned his sharp eyes at the sinking sun to the west. “That’s all for today; go wash your backsides, grab some chow, and then hit your bunks. I suggest you don’t spend the night flapping your gums and get as much sleep as you can. The sands can drain a man of more than water. Dismissed.”
Squad A headed straight for the showers. When Paul, Parcell, Algar, and Alfred got to the washing stalls, three cadets were waiting outside the four empty stalls. As the only squad left, they had the privilege of washing and eating first among the cadets. Individually, they were not the best, but as Master Fenwick predicted, they fit perfectly and had top marks as a unit. It was never openly discussed, but Paul became their unofficial leader due to his odd maturity, knowledge of tactics and being the only one who could read and write properly. It was a position even Fenwick recognized when addressing the squad.
Bedtime was incredibly hard for Paul. He did not like spending five nights in the barracks, and he treasured his two nights at home, more so, since he had learned to control himself better. Rosetta made it clear, either he took better care with Crista, or he would sleep alone - outside. He was thinking about his last night with Crista when he felt a kick from the bunk below him.
“What?” he asked Parcell in a tone harsher than he intended.
“If you’re going to start beating off, at least let us fall asleep first.”
The sound of barely stifled laugher came from the bunk bed to Paul’s right.
“Yes, you’re way too loud,” snickered Algar.
“And, you last way too long. Gods, how do you not kill that poor girl?” added Alfred to additional laugher.
Paul smiled at their jokes. He had heard that from them for weeks now. “Jealousy is so unbecoming, gentlemen. You only wish you had more than your right hands.”
“It’s not Jealousy.” Parcell tapped Paul’s bunk again. “Its concern. Your being away all week is probably saving Crista’s life. And for the record, mine takes two hands. One isn't big enough."
Paul had to laugh at all that. Parcell and the twins had somewhat known Crista for years. They were fond of her and remarked to him that they were thankful he bought her away from Joqumoe, whom they described as a bully. Alfred had confided in him that Joqumoe once offered the girl to him. Five minutes for five coppers, and eight coppers for him and Algar together with Crista. Alfred had refused, of course, he was not that kind of guy, but he wasn’t so sure Joqumoe hadn’t offered Crista to others in town. Paul had taken the information to heart. Alfred did not intend to shame the girl, only to inform Paul that she may need a gentle hand and a trusting soul in her life.
“You’re not one to talk, Parcell,” Alfred added to the sound of his brother giggling.
“Oh, Jamie, Jamie. I love you, Jamie. If only I were strong enough to carry you.” Algar’s girl voice was terrible and probably meant to be so, as Jamie Reynolds, the baker’s eldest, had a deep, joyful voice to go with her rotund size.
Parcell threw his pillow at Algar. “She’s not that big. I just need a little more upper body strength, is all."
Algar easily caught the pillow and threw it back. “I’m just kidding. Jamie is a fine girl and much too pretty for the likes of you. Now, a handsome fellow, like Alfred or me.”
Parcell threw the pillow again. “Maybe you, but Alfred is too scared to even talk to a girl.”
“No, I’m not.” Alfred’s wounded pride could be heard in his quivering voice. “I just… I just haven’t found the right girl.”
“Sure, you have,” replied Parcell, “she’s attached to your wrist right now.”
The boys all burst out laughing again.
Paul heard the unmistakable sound of men grumbling under their breaths. “Alright, guys, that’s enough. We have a long march ahead of us. Let’s get some sleep and no beating off from anyone. We’ll need all our energy in the morning.”
No more was said that night, and Paul closed his eyes with the idea of joining with his own woman in his dreams.
Master Fenwick glared at his cadets as if they had done something wrong or was about to. “Alright, you have fifteen minutes to grab your gear. We head out immediately. They’ll be half a day out by the time we reach them. Then we add our arms to theirs and walk them home. Questions?” He didn’t look around for hands; all knew he expected none and would answer any stupid questions with a shot to the gut.
Paul clenched his stomach muscles in remembrance of an attempt at clarity. He was strapping on his Watch loaned sword when he heard his name.
“Paul.” Dominic was striding towards him with his hands full. “You can leave that old thing. Master Cowlings had these delivered for you.” He handed his son his new short sword, with leather scabbard.
Paul pulled it out and marveled at the shine and craftsmanship. To the guys looking on, it was just a new sword. But to Paul, it was ‘Sting’ from The Hobbit and Lord Of The Rings movies.
“And your dagger.” Dominic rolled the short blade expertly through his fingers, then handed it over. “The rest, which looks like a pile of metal scraps, powders, and cloth, I’ll take home with me.”
Paul strapped his new dagger to his left thigh, under his hated kilt. The weapon felt good there, but he preferred it were strapped to the outside of sturdy camouflaged pants. He silently vowed to remedy that problem when he returned home.
“Line it up, ladies,” came a shout from Fenwick.
Paul slung his sword across his back. His father gave him a funny look but said nothing. Paul knew swords were carried on the hip, and he suspected he would get looks. Then again, Paul toyed with the idea of making a pistol; he knew that would cause all kinds of questions and more than a few problems. It was Star Trek’s prime directive that stayed his hand. He wasn’t sure how much of his old world he should bring to his new one.
Paul turned to his dad. “Thanks. I’ll see you all tonight.” Paul then ran to join the line before Fenwick could reprimand him in front of his father.
The team left the South Gate at 8 am. The cadets lost three of the older men before the journey began; apparently, they reconsidered their life choices.
Paul thought that was an ominous sign but kept it to himself.
The current team consisted of two instructors on horseback, Master Fenwick and Scouting Instructor Vetch Rawls. The eight cadets, Paul, Parcell, 16-year-old son of a merchant, now 17-years-old Algar and Alfred, who had a birthday three days ago, twin sons of a city clerk and four 14-years-old boys whose fathers paid extra for their early apprenticeships.
All the cadets were on foot. The Watch had no horses to spare. Also, the instructors did not give the cadets the option of providing their own, not that they had a horse or even a lizard. Still, it was supposed to be half a day’s march. The weather was good for the last days of fall, and the rainy season had yet to begin, so no one expected any problems. But then that’s how most horror stories start.
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Derrick Williams, former soldier. reborn as: Paul Escamilla , 16 yrs old Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier, 36 yrs old Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress, 35 yrs old Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. 50 yrs Joqumoe and Ben Garven. Teen thieves and robbers in town. Crista Escamilla. Paul's 16 year old slave/wife Alfred and Algar: 16 twin boys from town. Watch cadets Parcell Chambers: 16, male Watch cadet. Master Fenwick Dougal: 50s, former soldier in the Kingdom army, Watch instructor. |
By lancellot
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Outside the city gates, the main roads leading east, west, and south were cobblestone for at least half a mile from the city; after that, you got a dirt road. The road south grew sandier the closer you came to the Great Divide.
While cobblestone was underfoot, the cadets seemed jovial. That changed when dirt and dust began to fill the air. Coughing or sneezing brought a quick rebuke from Master Fenwick. It became apparent silence was more important than their breathing. It only took twenty minutes of eating sand and dust for the cadets to recognize that both Fenwick and Rawls had scarves over their nose and mouth.
Paul understood why Master Fenwick didn’t tell them to cover up. He likely thought: If they’re too stupid not to follow our example, then they’re too stupid for the Watch. Luckily, they weren’t that stupid and soon followed their instructors’ example.
Vetch Rawls regularly left the group to scout ahead and then returned. After three hours, Master Fenwick called a halt and a brief ten-minutes rest. The boys had covered about nine miles, and the terrain had shifted from sparse woods to mostly sand and rock. The cadets hurried under a nearby boulder. It was the only shade from the sun and shelter from the wind they could find. Vetch trotted away to scout ahead. He either didn’t require as much rest as the boys, or he couldn’t stomach their weakness. Paul, who wasn’t tired, figured it was a little bit of both.
Master Fenwick led his horse to the group, looked them over, and found them worthy enough to hear his voice. He cleared his throat. “As you should be aware, if you were paying attention in class, we’re almost ten miles out and will be officially entering the Divide soon.”
There were a few groans from the boys. It was apparent some of them had hoped the caravan would reach them early, but unless Vetch rode back with them in tow, that wasn’t going to happen.
Fenwick smiled. “Well, ten miles is the official line that exists in heads of royals and nobles, but I’m here to tell yah, that desert folk don’t give a lizard’s tail what some soft pink perfumed pecker thinks. To the average bandit, we’ve been in their territory since the road ended. Hell, to the more adventurous devils, since we left the gate.” His smile suddenly dropped.
Fenwick slowly turned to look around; his deep blue eyes seemed to meld with the horizon. A swift, dust-filled wind blew in from the east, reminding them that they were indeed within the clutches of the desert. Then Fenwick’s horse turned too. The mare’s large eyes opened wide, and her ears turned to listen to something the cadets couldn’t hear.
“Swords!” Fenwick yelled and drew his broadsword.
The boys hastened to their feet. The thin sand made poor footing as they scrambled to pull their swords and assume proper stances.
“To me, lads, arrow formation.” Fenwick and the cadets rounded the boulder. Their instructor turned his back to them and faced south. Without being told, the mare sought shelter behind the boulder where the team had sheltered moments ago.
Arrow formation meant for the team to divide themselves evenly on either side of the leader and to taper back one after the other. Instantly Paul knew, the danger was not a man. That formation was meant to draw attention to the leader. It was a tactic used against wild beasts, who were hierarchal by nature.
The theory is the animal would charge what it assumed was the leader of a rival pack. When it did, the remaining men would sweep forward and flank the beast on either side, trapping it within and efficiently dispatching it. That was the theory, at least.
Parcell squinted. “I don’t see --.”
In a burst of sand and howling fury, the beast bounded over the ridge, separating it from the group.
“Scrapper!” yelled Fenwick.
Think an eight-foot-tall Spider, with a body about the size of an elephant and the speed of a tiger. It was a creature formed from a child’s nightmare, and it charged straight for the group with no sign of slowing.
“Brace!” Fenwick’s command was pointless.
The scrapper jumped straight over their heads at full speed. Paul strained to keep his eyes open as sand rained upon him. The scrapper hit the ground only for an instant before bounding up and over the boulder.
Promptly they heard the sickening shriek of a horse screaming in terror and then agony. It was a sound none of the cadets had ever heard before, and their legs froze despite the desert heat.
After scant seconds the horse’s cries diminished, and all that remained was futile whimpers before the wind regained dominance.
Even before it happened, the cadets knew what was next. Empty eyes turned to Master Fenwick.
The old soldier did not scream, did not yell a war cry or say a word to his charges. Fenwick covered his nose and mouth against the swirling sand, regripped his sword, and ran for the boulder without looking back.
Master Fenwick did not go around the boulder. He leaped onto a small outcrop and propelled himself up and over. When he disappeared, the boys finally heard his battle cry; the clang of steel striking armor and a shriek of rage immediately followed.
The cadets stood in place as shadow puppets of man and beast played out on the ground left of the boulder, like some sadistic play. There was no grand musical score. No howls, cries and vows of death accompanied this battle. When your life is on the line, talk is wasted energy. The two raged on for untold minutes, and still, the boys, who would someday be men, found no will to join in.
But time, like life waits for neither man nor boy, and time is harsher on men of Master Fenwick’s age. For a time, anger and loss fueled old muscles and sharpened dull reflexes. Fenwick danced left and right, parried and slashed at legs and mandible, ever searching for a fatal opening.
Alas, the more Fenwick struggled to reach the spider’s head or soft underbelly, the more the beast seemed to protect them. But, where Fenwick had two arms, the spider had eight, and in a battle of life and death, it was a great advantage. Another advantage the beast had over Fenwick was in having just fed. Rage only lasts so long, and eventually, fatigue joins the battle.
Fenwick slashed at an approaching leg; out of the corner of his vision, he saw another coming towards him at the same time. He instinctively reached for his dagger with his left hand to parry the blow. But, Fenwick was not the man he used to be, and an arm once steady and covered with muscle was now marked in scars and trembled. To his credit, he did manage to pull his dagger, but no more. The spider’s leg arrived first directly between the master’s spread legs. The blow lifted him off the ground and hurled him at least thirty feet into the air. None of this Fenwick knew. The impact on his exposed testicles was too much for any man, and his brain blessedly shutdown.
It was a limp and unconscious body the boys saw soar through the air and then skid along the ground in a cloud of dust that awoke something within them. For the moment, Fenwick’s body was all they saw, and perhaps it was for that reason, concern overrode fear. Seven of the eight cadets, led by Paul, raced towards their downed master. Only Alfred, the younger of the twins by five minutes, remained frozen in place.
Paul stood in front of the boys with his sword drawn. The six boys who accompanied him formed a ragged line in front of Fenwick. Paul was the first to run, and as leader of squad A, it was only natural that the other cadets stood behind him. Paul counted six men with him and came to a decision. Without turning, he shouted, “Last two stay and defend Master Fenwick, the rest with me. We kill it if we can; if not, we keep it at bay until it gives up or we do.” Paul heard a shout behind him and felt four of the boys move closer to each side of him. Paul raised his sword and his voice, “Char...”
Battles are about more than strength and power. A pack of dogs can bring down a mighty lion. So it was that when the spider went to finish off the wild two-legged creature that attacked it while it fed, it encountered not one but a pack of two-legged creatures. A scrapper was only a giant spider; it had no real intelligence, but it did have incredible instincts. So it quickly discerned that the group was more potent than the one. Now there were seven of the annoying things, all with a long sharp claw that could hurt it. The simple-minded beast that it was did what any animal would do at such a disadvantage.
Before Paul could complete the order, the scrapper turned and ran to its right, kicking up rocks and sand as it quickly scampered around the boulder and away from them.
Paul blinked sand away from his eyes and started to give thanks to the Lord.
Then a scream cut through his prayer.
Because of the dust, it was difficult to see, but the scream was Alfred's voice and that explained everything.
Instinct and fear. The scrapper’s instinct told it to fear great numbers, so it ran, but when it saw the lone creature, with a distinct scent of fear emanating from it, the scrapper could not resist. It had fed well today, but there was always tomorrow.
The boys watched in horror as the scrapper, without slowing, opened its mandibles and snatched the petrified teen up in mid-stride. Algar, Paul, and two others gave chase.
The cadets were young, and Algar’s desire to save his brother was like a flame spurring them on. But, where the boys had two legs, the scrapper had eight. It was a race that was never in doubt. In seconds the distance between them had grown from yards to half a mile, and then the scrapper was gone.
When they reached the apex of a small dune, they looked out in despair at a sea of barren sand where the scrapper’s tracks were being erased by the wind as if nature herself was aiding her favorite.
Algar, let out a scream that echoed across a completely uncaring land. The scream was not just that of pain, anger, or frustration. For the first time in his young life, Algar felt... alone.
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Derrick Williams, former soldier. reborn as: Paul Escamilla , 16 yrs old Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier, 36 yrs old Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress, 35 yrs old Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. 50 yrs Joqumoe and Ben Garven. Teen thieves and robbers in town. Crista Escamilla. Paul's 16 year old slave/wife Alfred and Algar: 16 twin boys from town. Watch cadets Parcell Chambers: 16, male Watch cadet. Master Fenwick Dougal: 50s, former soldier in the Kingdom army, Watch instructor. Vetch Rawls: 45, master scout of the Watch. Desert tracker. |
By lancellot
Sound travels far and wide in the open desert. The vibrations of a horse’s shoe falling, the hiss of a lizard, the rattling of a carriage’s wheel, and the cries of a teenage boy. But to hear those sounds, a person must first be paying attention. Engrossed in feelings of despair and hopelessness, the boys never noticed the approach of Master Rawls or the caravan that followed him.
“What transpires here?” Rawls announced.
The sudden voice startled the boys so much, several lost their footing. Seeing Master Rawls and a full caravan of armed men, the boys quickly descended on the scout, and began shouting and pointing.
It took Rawls at least thirty minutes to get a full understandable story from the boys. The caravan’s medic assured them Fenwick would make a full recovery in a few weeks. Of course, Fenwick disagreed and claimed he just needed a stick to balance himself. Master Fenwick, only admitted to having a concussion and a broken leg.
Fenwick and Rawls discussed the situation in private, and then returned to boys. “The decision has been made.” Fenwick, indeed, stood, braced on a pole. “We will complete our mission and escort the caravan to town. Then and there, we will properly honor our fallen comrade.”
“What?” Algar shouted, his face red, his eyes dark and wild with anger. “That creature took my brother. We can’t let it escape. I can’t - I can’t go home without him. I can’t - not without even his body. I can’t let that thing - eat him. I…”
“Algar, it’s too late.” Young Parcell did not rise from his seat. His head hung low, and his eyes never left his boots, but in the quiet of the desert, his voice carried what they all knew. “It’s gone. That scrapper must be miles from here by now. There’s no way we could track it in the dark, and even if we could, dear gods. It's already - already - gods! We don’t even know where it went to kill it or to get Alfred’s remains for burial, if - if there are any.”
The reality of the situation was too much for the young man. Algar fell to his knees and openly wept, and he was not alone; the younger cadets and several of the women from the caravan who had been listening from their tents cried as well.
Paul sat in silence next to Parcell. It had only been two months, but he had grown to think of his squad as more than just work friends. Paul couldn’t help wondering: If I had a P-90, a grenade, or even a pistol. Hell, a musket and one shot to the head would have killed the damn spider. If only I had made one. If only I hadn’t wasted so much time.
“Perhaps, perhaps, we could come back. The scrappers usually discard what they can’t consume, to keep their dens clean.” Master Rawls threw another log on the fire. “Perhaps.”
“Den?” Paul raised his head and stared at the scout. “You mean like a hole in the ground? Like a trapdoor spider?”
Rawls turned to Paul. “Yes, a hole just south of here is where that scrapper took him, but I know not what a trapdoor spiker be.”
Algar suddenly stopped crying and lifted his head. “Wait, how do you know where it went?”
“Because I saw it, I did. On the way back, I saw it enter its hole. Though I did not know what was struggling in its grasp.” The scout lowered his head and kicked up a small cloud of dust that sparkled in the fire. “I thought it was just an animal. I must be going blind.”
The group went silent, but the desert, though dead in appearance, was alive with activity and sounds.
Paul lifted his face to the always strange moonless sky and listened to the shifting sands, the whispering winds, and the ever-present screeching of the vultures waiting to get at the horse's remains. Wait, thought Paul. It killed the horse but carried Alfred home alive. Why would it do that? Why didn’t it just kill him? Why would a giant spider? Paul shot up. “He’s not dead!”
The heads of the men all turned to Paul with bewilderment or annoyance on their faces.
Paul ignored them all. “The spider… um, the scrapper killed the horse but took Alfred alive. Master Rawls saw him struggling when it went into its den.” Paul looked at each man for understanding but saw only confusion. “Don’t you see. It’s a spider. It ate the horse because it was hungry, but a spider doesn’t kill and then eat its prey later. It saves them and then eats them alive later.”
Algar stood up. “What? It ate Alfred alive?”
“No, no.” Paul lowered his voice and stepped to Algar. “A spider stuns and cocoons its prey, but it doesn’t kill them, not right away. It keeps them alive for later. It needs them fresh; the opposite of a vulture.” Paul turned to the others. “We know where it lives. We may still have time. We can sneak in and -.”
“Forget it!” Master Fenwick slammed his pole on the ground cutting off all conversation. Even the desert itself seemed to pause. “I’ve lost one boy; I will not lose anymore. I’m sorry, Algar. I truly am, but I’ll not stand before your father and tell him I lost both his heirs.”
To that, no one had a reply. All present knew Algar and Alfred's parents only had one older daughter. If both sons were lost, their line would end, as no more children could be born into the family. In Valeria, the one son law for commoners was absolute and irreversible. After the birth of a son, the woman is immediately sterilized. The law was enacted to keep the population in check and prevent a repeat of the Great Blight hundreds of years ago when over farming led to rapid growth, which led to even more need for farmland until sun blocking dust storms and famine swept the barren land.
The horror of seeing thousands of children starve, their small bodies bloated and littering the roads with only the rats having enough to eat scarred the souls of three generations. Never again, the survivors cried, and the King had no choice but to give the people the only assurance he could. As far as nature was concerned, women carried life and were more valuable than men, so you could have as many females as you could have first, but only one male, and then no more. Because babies had a 66% chance of being a female vs. 33% male, there would always be more females than men in Valeria. If you had male twins, you were fortunate. Algar and Alfred were rare, and their good looks made them highly desirable to young maidens who believed having twins was an inherited trait.
Algar grumbled under his breath as he stamped away from the group and towards his bedroll.
Soon Parcell and the several others got up and headed to where they would bed for the night.
Master Fenwick had spoken true, and the debate was over. Alfred was gone, and they had no choice but to accept it.
Algar did his best to walk silently. He held his sword tight against his hip and took a wide track around the picketed horses and lizards. It would not do to startle the animals any more than they already were around so many unseen predators.
“So,” Paul whispered into Algar’s ear.
The lad jumped a full two feet backward and hit Parcell in the chest as he stumbled for balance.
“You see, Parcell, he was just going to leave us behind, and here I thought we were friends.” Paul’s bright smile almost glowed in the darkness.
“Yes,” replied an equally smiling Parcell, “some guys want all the glory.”
Algar did his best to hold back his tears of joy. Despite his fear, he would go alone; having Paul and Parcell boosted his confidence to new heights. He and Alfred had been friends with the teens over the few months, but he never expected they would risk their lives, especially without him asking or begging, on what was probably a one-way mission. “Are you guys sure you want to do this? I mean, I’m grateful, and three swords are better than one, but…”
Paul put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “No, buts, and -.” He opened a sack and passed bottles of a liquid to Parcell and Algar. “We have more than swords. We have a plan.”
| Author Notes |
Thank you for sticking with me thus far. The story is in the middle or main body. The introduction of most of the supporting characters are coming fast now. The main plot is starting. Enjoy.
Characters so far: Derrick Williams, former soldier. reborn as: Paul Escamilla , 16 yrs old Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier, 36 yrs old Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress, 35 yrs old Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. 50 yrs Joqumoe and Ben Garven. Teen thieves and robbers in town. Crista Escamilla. Paul's 16 year old slave/wife Alfred and Algar: 16 twin boys from town. Watch cadets Parcell Chambers: 16, male Watch cadet. Master Fenwick Dougal: 50s, former soldier in the Kingdom army, Watch instructor. Vetch Rawls: 45, master scout of the Watch. Desert tracker. |
By lancellot
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Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.
It took nearly an hour to find the trapdoor leading to the scrapper’s den even with torches. The directions Rawls had given Paul were right; it was only his tracking skills that were poor without modern equipment or moonlight. Fortunately, Algar just seemed to know the right direction. The trapdoor didn’t appear to be a door at all; it was packed sand and rocks glued to a sheet of webbing.
“Alright, you two get on either side of this lid and lift when I say go.” Paul held his torch in front of him as Parcell and Algar bravely stuck their hands under the sticky door. “One, two… go!”
Expecting the spider to jump out at him, Paul thrust the torch before him like a shield of fire as the two boys threw the door back and then grabbed for their swords.
There was no spider or immediate danger. Paul let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding while his brave companions formed up on either side of him.
“It’s deep.” It was all Paul could think of as he stared into the darkness.
“It looks like a tunnel.” Parcell joined his torch with Paul’s. “It kind of slopes down.”
“Well, if we’re going, then…” Algar took a tentative step. “It’s not that steep, but we should be careful, and it’s big enough that we can walk standing up.”
“That not a surprise. It is a big ass spider,” said Paul, following Algar inside.
“What… why do keep calling it a spider?” asked Parcell, bringing up the rear.
“Because that’s what it is.” Paul considered his words but then thought he was likely going to die. “You call them scrappers, but… in a book I read, they used to be called spiders, only they were tiny, no bigger than your hand in some cases, but usually smaller than your toenail in most cases.” Paul didn’t like lying, so he pushed past the slow walking Algar to avoid more questions. “I’ll lead; we should hurry. Come on.”
Soon, the tunnel leveled out and widened. The boys could now walk side by side with room to spare. Also, the temperature and humidity had gone up. Sweat began to collect on their faces and chest.
“Should it be getting hot down here?” Parcell opened the top of his robe. “And what’s that hissing sound?”
Neither Algar nor Paul answered.
Algar imagined snakes slithering in every shadow.
Paul figured it was steam considering the high humidity in the air and the apparent heat radiating beneath their feet. They had gone deep underground, so Paul assumed there must be natural hot springs under the desert surface. Perhaps the extra heat is why this area is a desert in the first place, he thought.
“Hey guys,” Algar’s voice echoed off the walls. “Don’t you think this tunnel is a little too big to be made by a scrap… um, spider?” He drifted to the wall at his left and placed his hand on the stone. “I mean, this is rock, not sand, and I haven’t seen any webbing since we left the entrance. It’s kind of like we’re inside a stone snake.”
The boys stopped and held their torches up. They walked towards the walls, touching them here and there. For some time, Paul had noticed how unnaturally straight and wide the tunnel was. He did not say anything because he wasn’t too sure how much the boys knew of mining techniques.
“Yes, it’s strange, but we can’t worry about that now. Let’s keep going.” Paul resumed his pace.
The boys walked along the tunnel for another two minutes when a brisk draft rustled their robes and streamed through their damp hair.
“Do you feel that?” Parcell grinned. “There must be an opening to the outside up ahead.”
“Maybe a back door for the scrapper,” Algar added.
Paul didn’t voice his opinion; for some time, a sick feeling deep within his stomach had been growing. The length, depth, and shape of the tunnel had a familiar texture to it. One that he didn’t want to explore.
Within a minute, the three explorers stopped. At first, none of them could speak, and after walking around for several minutes, they came back together in the center of what could only be described as a large conjunction point.
“It’s six,” Algar said, leaning over and panting for breath after he had run around the entire chamber. “Including the tunnel, we came from, there are six tunnels in all.”
Paul had been walking around much slower. His focus was on the ground, as no matter how high he raised his torch, he could not see the ceiling. His search of the floor didn’t reveal the metal he was looking for, but he did find rust and parallel grooves worn into the stone where they had once been.
But what confirmed his suspicion was a brick section between two tunnels. It was worn and faint, but Paul could barely make out a few long-ago engraved letters. San Di. “It’s not a tunnel; it’s a subway under what used to be San Diego.”
Parcell and Algar looked at each other and shook their heads. They had no idea what Paul was talking about, and they were growing concerned. For a time now, he had been quiet and distant. Now he was talking gibberish.
“Ah, Paul…. what does it mean?” Parcell asked.
Paul began to giggle and then to laugh. “It means I’m Fucked. F.U.C.K, fucked. It means I can’t go home. I can’t go back because I’m already here. Dear God, I’m already home.” Paul took a deep breath and yelled at the top of his lungs. “FUCK!”
Paul’s scream echoed in the chamber so loud that Parcell and Algar had to cover their ears. They were both confused and a bit afraid; after all, Paul was armed, yet they dared to approach their friend.
“Paul, have you lost-.” Parcell began.
“Wait!” Algar raised a hand and then cocked his head to one side. “Do you hear that?”
“I don’t…” Parcell cupped his ear. “Is that yelling?”
“It’s Alfred!” Algar cried.
Paul held his breath, temporarily forgetting his anguish. “I hear it too. Where is it coming from?”
Algar closed his eyes and slowly turned in a circle. His finger rose in the air and then pointed. “That way.”
Algar was pointing to a tunnel ahead and to the right of the one they came through. The boys pulled new torches from their packs, lit them, and then proceeded where Algar directed.
“Al…” Paul quickly put his hand over Algar’s mouth.
Paul shook his head no and placed a finger to his lips. He looked at Parcell, who nodded his understanding. They could hear the cries for help getting louder as they went. Paul stopped and pulled a bottle from his pack.
Algar and Parcell did the same. Each of them pulled out the wooden cap. A quick whiff of alcohol escaped their bottles before they stuffed the openings with a dry rag, being careful to keep the bottles away from their torches.
“Okay, we all know the plan,” Paul whispered.
Parcell and Algar nodded.
“Good, lets’ go.”
The trio had only to advance a few yards before they stopped with mouths agape. Hanging on a wall were six large white cocoons, and in the last one was Alfred, or at least his head.
Alfred’s face was pale, but his smile was huge and bright. “What took you so long?”
“Dinner, of course,” Algar replied before running towards his bother.
“Wait!” Alfred shouted, his voice sounding horse and drained.
Algar stopped in place. Paul and Parcell joined him a few feet away from the wall.
“It’s not gone.” Algar tilted his head toward the end of the tunnel. It was partially collapsed with a large opening on top. “It’s in there. Maybe asleep, I don’t know. I don’t think it can hear, but you must be careful of the big strands, leading into the hole, do you see them?”
White webbing covered most of the walls, the floor, and Alfred, so it took the boys a few seconds to notice the thicker strands, like cables crisscrossing nearly everything.
Paul knew what the strands meant. They transmitted vibration to the spider. If they began cutting Alfred out, the spider would come charging out at them. Plus, there was something about the way Alfred’s face looked and the way his head moved that concerned him. “Alfred, can you move?”
The boy smiled. “I can’t feel anything from the neck down.” His smile dropped, and he looked at his brother. “It bites me sometimes. Down there.” His hollowed eyes dipped down to two dark holes in the web. “I think… I think it’s been eating me, but… I can’t. I can’t feel anything.” Tears began to roll down his sunken cheeks. “It doesn’t hurt. It’s supposed to hurt, right, Algar?”
Paul looked closer at the two dark puncture holes in the side. He looked at the other boys and saw fear and worry in their eyes. For about a minute, no one spoke. Paul’s mind raced, had the spider been feeding on Alfred, or had it merely poisoned him to keep him paralyzed? They would have to cut him out to find out.
“Change of plans.” Paul pulled the rag out of his bottle. “We stop the damn thing first, and then get Alfred out.”
“What?” Parcell threw up his arms. “The plan was too…”
“Forget it.” Paul walked to the pile of rocks leading to where Alfred said the spider’s lair was. “We’ll never be able to outrun it while carrying Alfred. We have to kill it, cripple it, or trap it.”
Paul began climbing the mound on debris below the hole and then stopped. Parcell was right behind him.
“Parcell, give me your flasks and then help Algar. Try to cut Alfred out in one slice, while the other catches him when I give the word.” Paul took both flasks and then carefully went up to the hole alone. He made sure not to touch any of the thick strands.
He poured the alcohol across the opening at the top, trying to keep the liquid from running inside the hole. He wanted to create as thick of a barrier as he could. He didn’t know how fearful a spider was of fire but hoped it was a lot. With the last alcohol of his bottle, he made a thin trail as he scrambled back down.
Algar stood in front of Alfred’s cocoon and Parcell at the side with his dagger in hand. All three boys looked at Paul.
Paul took a deep breath and then put flame to the alcohol. Fire immediately snaked up the mound and burst into towering flames. “Now!”
Parcell sliced down the cocoon's side from head to toe, and Alfred’s limp body fell free into Algar’s arms.
A piercing shriek boomed from the other side of the hole, and the spider's black head flashed before it immediately ducked away from the flames.
“Go, go!” Paul yelled as Algar and Parcell each took an arm and followed Paul down the tunnel.
The boys had little trouble carrying Alfred as he was much lighter than usual. They quickly made it to the conjunction chamber and then faced another problem.
“Oh shit,” Algar shouted, his eyes darting left and right. “Paul, did you mark which tunnel we…”
“No, did you?” came the terse reply.
A glance at Parcell’s facial expression was all it took.
Paul pointed. "Going right is always right."
They ran into darkness.
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Derrick Williams, former soldier. reborn as: Paul Escamilla , 16 yrs old Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier, 36 yrs old Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress, 35 yrs old Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. 50 yrs Joqumoe and Ben Garven. Teen thieves and robbers in town. Crista Escamilla. Paul's 16 year old slave/wife Alfred and Algar: 16 twin boys from town. Watch cadets Parcell Chambers: 16, male Watch cadet. Master Fenwick Dougal: 50s, former soldier in the Kingdom army, Watch instructor. Vetch Rawls: 45, master scout of the Watch. Desert tracker. |
By lancellot
Captain Dominic Escamilla, Day Leader of the South gate, stood atop the wall looking out into the thin forest beyond the gate. It was a spot he held for the last four days since the caravan returned to Florence.
Masters Fenwick and Rawls had given Captain Escamilla a summary of what took place and what they believed happened upon entering the gate.
Fenwick then visited Algar, Alfred, and Parcell's parents to deliver the bad news to them. His visit to the Escamilla home, he saved for last. Though Dominic already knew his son was dead. Fenwick's honor demanded he addresses the entire family. Fenwick stood in the family's small living room. The faces of Rosetta and Crista were flush and streaked with dried tears. He knew Dominic had informed them, but still, he had a duty.
Fenwick set aside his crutch and slowly sank to one knee. He did not whimper or show any discomfort from doing such with a broken leg. "Rosetta, you have my deepest condolences for the loss of your son and heir. It was my responsibility to oversee him, and in that, I failed miserably."
He turned his gaze to the young girl sitting next to Rosetta. It was his first time meeting Crista but having spoken to Paul, he was aware the young man had recently taken a girl's weight. "Young lady, I..." His voice failed him. To lose a husband so soon was something almost unfathomable. "I am sorry. I should have known that a brave and honorable young man such as Paul would not easily abandon a friend and comrade in need. I should have known. The fault is entirely mine."
When Fenwick raised his eyes to Captain Escamilla, they were heavy with barely contained tears. He opened his mouth, but Dominic simply shook his head.
The two had spoken upon the caravan's return. There was no need for more words. Master Fenwick had offered his resignation from the Watch and Dominic refused it.
Dominic laid a hand on his old friend's shoulder. "I do not hold you responsible. The actions of the son fall upon the father. I knew my boy, and I know no one short of me could have prevented from doing something - foolish."
Dominic found the night peaceful on top of the wall. It was quieter than the wailing of Rosetta and the softer sobs of Crista at home. Dominic had requested a rescue mission, but the Commander of the Watch had wisely refused. His reasoning was sound and straightforward. Rawls and five men had gone into the scrapper's den the morning the boys were discovered missing.
They got no more than a few feet before two scrappers attacked them. The men manage to make a fighting retreat without losing anyone, though two men were seriously injured. Fearing the beasts would attack again to protect their nest, they made no further attempts. It was clear to all that the scrappers must have massacred the boys upon their entrance.
After that, the Commander of the watch and the Mayor ended all discussions of rescue and declared them dead. Paul, Parcell, and Algar were officially recorded as AWOL after abandoning their post and disobeying a direct order. Then they were considered having been killed by scrappers. The Mayor scheduled a funeral for the four young men for the following week, and he ordered the city's flag flown at half-staff for Alfred. He alone was honored for having died in the course of his duties.
For the last four-and-a-half days, Dominic stood alone atop the wall from sunrise to well after sundown. No one interrupted him, and no one dared tell him when to leave even though he reeked and was unkempt.
Dominic knew his wife needed him. He knew he should at least attempt to comfort the young girl Paul had married, but all his thoughts rolled back to his fight with Paul and all the things he should have done better.
Besides his son's untimely death, the only odd thing in Dominic's world was Hell's Tree, a long-dead tree just beyond the gate. For as long as he could remember that dead tree was the marker between civilization of the city and the hellish desert. The old folk also called the tree, The Station down to Hell Town. Now that snarled old thing was ablaze as if Hell had finally come to claim it.
One morning it was leaning there as always, and then there was smoke coming from it that afternoon. By nightfall, the tree was engulfed in flames. Since it was well away from any other tree, the Commander decided just to let it burn itself out. It provided light for the night watchmen, and the flames helped keep wild beasts away from the gate, so it was a good thing as far as anyone was concerned. Scrappers were naturally foremost in everyone's mind.
The next morning Dominic was still at his station above the now open gate. A small stream of merchants and peddlers were coming into town. Dominic turned his eyes to where the tree had burned. Now there was only a thin trail of smoke, some blackened roots, and a gaping hole in the ground where the tree had been.
"I really should have some lads fill that or at least cover it." Dominic didn't like that hole. His watchman mind saw it as a potential hiding place too close to the gate and the road.
He was about to call down to the gate sergeant when one of the dark roots going down into the hole began to move. Despite the long drop to the ground, Dominic leaned as far over the edge of the wall as he could.
Suddenly, a mass of frazzled black hair popped out of the hole and then vanished back inside.
Dominic ran to a closer area of the rampart and stared at the hole, not trusting what he thought he saw when an arm appeared. A dark, soot-covered face coughing in the remains of smoke soon followed it.
"Paul," he cried, instantly recognizing the shape of his son's head. "It's Paul." Dominic turned and ran down the stairs to the ground shouting for men to follow him. He pointed to a watchman. "Sound the bell."
Warm tears, praise to the three gods, and celebrations the likes not seen in years filled the next few hours. Three mothers, and a couple of sisters, came to the gatehouse and openly wept until they became dehydrated. Three fathers, one slave/wife, and a plump young maiden who smelled like fresh bread, also cried tears of joy. Word soon spread throughout the city and beyond.
In a castle miles from the town of Florance, a powerful man of noble birth read a report and then rang for his Swordmaster. "Saddle the horses. We ride for Florance immediately."
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Derrick Williams, former soldier. reborn as: Paul Escamilla , 16 yrs old Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier, 36 yrs old Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress, 35 yrs old Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. 50 yrs Joqumoe and Ben Garven. Teen thieves and robbers in town. Crista Escamilla. Paul's 16 year old slave/wife Alfred and Algar: 16 twin boys from town. Watch cadets Parcell Chambers: 16, male Watch cadet. Master Fenwick Dougal: 50s, former soldier in the Kingdom army, Watch instructor. Vetch Rawls: 45, master scout of the Watch. Desert tracker. |
By lancellot
The day would be forever known as The Fire at The Gate, or The Return, depending on who told the tale. It didn’t matter to the boys’ parents what the day was called. Alfred went directly into the loving care of his mother and the city’s surgeon. He had been poisoned repeatedly by the scrapper. Luckily the poison was only a toxin to keep him paralyzed, and he began to regain feeling in his body before he ended his life as a gopher.
Rosetta and Crista both smothered Paul with kisses and stuffed him with food for two days. Crista’s affection and joy were on full display, and Rosetta did not seem to mind. The young couple slept until noon, and when awake, Crista made no attempt at hiding her pleasure from anyone with ears.
On the third day of their return Paul, Algar, and Parcell were summoned to the mayor’s office. The Watch Commander and two of his captains came too.
The boys wore new City Watch robes. The only difference between their short tan robes and brown kilts were the green apprentice bands on their arms. Paul hated the kilts and the constant breeze on his junk. He had shown his mother his designs for pants; she claimed creating them would be easy, and she would, if he really wanted to wear such an uncomfortable-looking garment.
The Mayor’s office was on the top floor of City Hall. When they arrived and began walking up to the fourth floor, Paul immediately knew Alfred would not have made it without being carried. Algar assured Paul and Parcell that his twin brother would make a full recovery and return to the watch within the week. The three were still smiling about the good news when they entered the office. The room was long and wide, with paintings, and a huge city map divided into wards adorning the walls. The Mayor’s desk was the biggest Paul had ever seen in Florence, and the chairs were plush and looked expensive. Paul’s cheap leather boots seemed to sink an inch into the soft blue velvet carpeting. He knew the city was doing well, but not this well. Large bay windows were behind the Mayor’s desk flooding the room with bright and warm morning sunlight.
Paul had seen the Mayor a few times before. He was a solidly built man with graying hair at his temples and a joyful laugh. Paul likened him to a young Santa Claus without the belly. His parents thought well of the man, so Paul had no complaints. Paul was surprised to find him standing to the side of his desk alongside the Watch Commander, Master Rawls, and a tall well-toned man with an ornate sword he didn’t know. Paul also did not recognize the thin, dark-haired young man seated at the desk. The calm and confident expression on his face, his fine clothes, and the single huge golden ring on his well-manicured finger screamed of nobility. Paul had learned to show such people the highest respect, less you went home without your head.
Both captains flanked the three cadets. Before leaving the gate, the boys were reminded only to speak when spoken to and do precisely as the captains did. They were to ask no questions and begin and end each answer with ‘my Lord.’ That was the plan, but as they had learned earlier, few things ever go as planned.
The captains stopped several feet before the desk and bowed deeply at the waist. The boys did likewise and held their eyes slightly downward. They were also cautioned not to stare or look at the Mayor in the eyes as equals. They were not. Although the Mayor was a lessor noble, he was still a noble, and they were commoners. Paul learned that Mayors in Valeria were not like those of his old world. They were not elected, and not considered public servants.
The man behind the desk rose and a huge smile formed on his face. “Dominic, it is good to see you again. How have you been?”
Dominic bowed his head. “Your Grace, you honor me. I am well, your Grace.”
“Good, and how is that lovely wife of yours? You know, had I been older when she stayed at the castle, I might have challenged you to a duel for her. Of course, you would have chopped my foolish young head off, and then my father would have taken yours. Poor Rosetta would have been left with two headless suitors. Not a good outcome for any of us." He laughed.
All the men in the room laughed as well, and stopped when he stopped.
Dominic smiled. “Your Grace, Rosetta is very happy and in perfect health, your Grace.”
“Good, good, and enough of the ‘your Grace’ stuff. Save that for my father.” He looked around the room to let everyone know he was addressing the group. “You all know Baron Lecher, my father’s Swordmaster.” The tall man gave a slight nod to the group.
The young noble paused a moment and then continued. “We may well be here for some time today. Things will go much faster if, at least in this room, we dispensed with the formalities. John, can you have your staff bring in more chairs and refreshments?”
The Mayor bowed. “Yes, your -- um, Raymond.” He blushed slightly and then left the room.
When chairs arrived, the Earl motioned for everyone to be seated. “Some of you, I know, and some are new to me. I am Earl Raymond Charles Reinhard, 2nd son of his Grace Duke Cedric Reinhard III. Here you may address me as Raymond.” He looked to where the cadets were seated next to each other. “The others in the room are known to me and to each other. Why don’t the three young cadets stand and introduce themselves?”
The boys all stood; they knew this might happen, so they were not surprised by Raymond’s order, and it was an order, no matter how he phrased it.
“Cadet Parcell De Roma, son of Gregor De Roma,” Parcell said and then sat down.
“Cadet Algar Whitmore, son of Harold Whitmore.”
“And how is your brother, Alfred doing?” asked Raymond with a genuine look of concern on his face.
“He is recovering at home, your Grace, um… I mean -- he’ll be himself soon.” Algar sat down, his face turning red. It was clear he had not expected that question.
Raymond nodded. "Good, he is the first man we know of to have ever been taken by a scrapper and lived to tell the tale. Simply remarkable." Raymond looked at Paul.
Paul stood. “Cadet Paul Derick Escamilla, son of Dominic and Rosetta Escamilla,” Paul answered. He had added his old name as a middle name some time ago, and his parents did not mind, though they told him it was not usual for a commoner to have a middle name. He added his mother’s name because he did not like the idea of excluding her. Gender inequality in Valeria was something he wasn't yet used to. Paul sat down
The Earl smiled. “Yes, of course. I was going to ask who led your defiant group on its unauthorized rescue mission, but I see there is no need for that.” He looked at Algar. “And, I already know whose foolish idea it was.”
Algar lowered his head.
The Earl laughed and waved his hand. “It’s quite alright and downright understandable. If it were my brother, though we’ve never seen eye-to-eye, I'd like to think I would have done the very same thing. I would be fortunate if I had two honorable friends to risk their lives with me.” Raymond circled the desk, picked up the Mayor’s ornate chair, and carried it back to where he had stood. “Well, I’ve read the written summary of your reports to the Watch Commander, and I have many questions, but first.” He turned to Commander Barnes. “James, what is the status at the breach?”
“We’ve two squads stationed at it at all times. No activity so far.” James looked over at Rawls.
Rawls cleared his throat. “Two men and I entered the tunnel three times now. We’ve scouted maybe four hundred yards from the breach. Though we saw signs of scrappers, we encountered none.”
The Earl looked at the cadets. “You’re probably wondering what’s all this is about, am I right?”
The boys all nodded.
“Well, your little adventure may have altered the course of relations among the three kingdoms.”
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Derrick Williams, a former soldier. reborn as: Paul Escamilla, 16 yrs old Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier, 36 yrs old Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress, 35 yrs old Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. 50 yrs Joqumoe and Ben Garven. Teen thieves and robbers in town. Crista Escamilla. Paul's 16 year old slave/wife Alfred and Algar: 16 twin boys from town. Watch cadets Parcell Chambers: 16, male Watch cadet. Master Fenwick Dougal: 50s, former soldier in the Kingdom army, Watch instructor. Vetch Rawls: 45, master scout of the Watch. Desert tracker. Earl Raymond Charles Reinhard: 2nd son of his Grace Duke Cedric Reinhard III. Mayor John: Mayor of Florance, Minor noble Baron Lecher: Swordmaster to Duke Reinhard III Commander Barnes: Commander of the City Watch |
By lancellot
Paul looked at his friends before speaking. “You want to know how extensive the tunnel system is and, more importantly, does it cross the Great Divide into the other kingdoms. You also want to know if there are other exits or breaches and where they are.”
The Earl laughed and pointed his finger at Dominic. “He’s definitely your boy, Dominic.” He walked over to the far wall where a small map of Valeria hung. “You are right, Paul. That is what I thought when the reports of your exploits and the breach just outside the city gate crossed my desk. I was especially curious about that hub you mentioned with six tunnels going off in different directions. You did not exit the same tunnel you entered. If we count the breach at the gate and the one you entered at the desert’s edge, for we believe the scrapper merely concealed it but did not excavate it, that is at least two exit/entrance points. And if two shallow passages are leading into the tunnel system, this close together…”
The commander nodded. “Then, why not more?”
“At least two per tunnel. So perhaps twelve, maybe more,” Rawls finished. “I'd say more because we did find two small offshoots, though we did not enter them.”
“Service tunnels,” Paul mumbled.
“What was that?” Raymond asked.
“Nothing. Nothing. I was only thinking out loud,” Paul said, trying to cover his slip.
“Then let’s hear it, Cadet. You were down there, you made it out alive, and you faced a scrapper twice and lived. Why else do you think you're here?” Raymond took a step towards Paul. “I want all ideas on the table.”
A red-faced Paul nodded. “I was thinking; the smaller passages may have been service-ways in between the main tunnels. Whoever built the tunnel system must have needed a shortcut between the lines, to maintain them. It would be inefficient to always go back to the central hub.”
The mayor nodded his head. “Yes, that makes sense. This is like the old tales my nana used to tell me; a time before the Cracking when men were masters of the air, sea, and underground. I thought them only tales to fill the heads of children, but now I wonder.”
Paul had never heard such tales. “The Cracking.” He looked at his father, but the man had only a blank look on his face. “What is that?”
The Earl waved his hand and returned to his seat. “Oh, there are tales of a time when the world… um broke. It is said a great war took place between the new men and the old. When the Earth shook, and something called the Moon was ripped from the heavens. It all supposedly happened over a thousand years ago, but who knows.” The Earl shook his head. “It is as the mayor said, old folk tales told to frighten spoiled noble and royal children. ‘Do not get too big-headed, or the world will crack again.’ Just nonsense. No kingdom or people has any history of such an event.”
“And yet there have been artifacts found, drawings, and now these tunnels that are unexplainable.” Baron Lecher looked around. “I went down into the tunnel yesterday with the scouts, and they are not natural. They are not such as we can hope to create. Yet someone did.”
Paul wanted to ask more, but his father glanced his way. Paul had told his father what he discovered underground, and Dominic cautioned him of speaking publicly of it. Paul had been looking down. When he raised his eyes, he saw the Earl staring at him.
Raymond said, “My father once had a Royal Surgeon by the name of Vallis in his employ. He cured Rosetta of her illness during her time at the castle. A brilliant man he was, and a bit odd. He used to tell me and my brother all sorts of stories about a time of -- oh what did he call it? Ah, science. Vallis claimed it was an age when men bent nature to their will. He claimed the Aerials and the Aquatics aren't natural people. The man wanted my father to give him funds to go on expeditions into the Great Divide in search of lost relics and knowledge. Vallis once spoke of metal machines that carried people great distances through the air, over land, underwater, and even in the blackness beyond. He also claimed he had discovered an ancient repository of knowledge as a teen but somehow lost its location. He was quite mad. Brilliant, but out of his mind. Or so I thought.”
“Well, the tunnels are real.” Parcell shrugged. “The rest, we will have to see.”
The Earl stood, “And see we shall, young man. In three weeks, we will officially begin our exploration of the tunnel system. We map it out, discover the extent of it; such as time allows and claim it in the name of his Majesty.” He looked at the cadets. “Yes, you three will join my house. From this day forward, you are in my employ, as Squires to Earl Raymond C. Reinhard.” He turned to the watch commander. “You don’t mind if I take them, do you, James? I believe the punishment for disobeying a direct order or abandoning one’s post for cadets is expulsion.”
“You are correct, my Lord.” Jaemes looked at the boys and then to Dominic. “Though what they did was brave, heroic even. They've committed major violations that caused injury to their comrades and could have caused their deaths. Except for young Alfred, they must answer for their actions. There is simply no way around that.”
The boys said nothing. Dominic had explained all their violations with them after their return. He told them there would be a tribunal, and because they were cadets and not full members, the only outcome if found guilty was expulsion, and they were, without a doubt, guilty. Alfred was living proof of that.
Raymond nodded. “Good, then we will break for now and reconvene later if needed.” He walked up to the three former cadets. “You three will report to Baron Lecher downstairs at sunrise tomorrow morning. He will instruct you on your new duties, as he will be your direct commander throughout your training. I suggest you listen closely, as he is not a man accustomed to repeating himself. Also, I agree, what you lads did was brave and honorable, but be warned, to violate your oath to your Lord means death.” With that, he nodded to Lecher and then they both left the room.
When the door closed, the mayor picked up his chair and returned it behind his desk. Then he sat down. “Well, I guess the meeting is over. I do not believe I need to say this, but I will. Everything discussed here was meant for our ears alone. Do not repeat a word of it outside these doors, not to your wives, your friends, anyone.” He looked directly at the boys. “Please stand.”
The boys stood.
“Naturally, there will be no tribunal. Summary judgment has been passed upon you. You are officially discharged from the City Watch by order of his Lordship, Earl Raymond Charles Reinhard, for dereliction of duty.” He took a deep breath and spread his fingers on the desk. “Also, if you were unaware, what the Earl said to you at the end was not a request. It was a command.” The mayor nodded. “Your oaths of allegiance will be recorded in the City’s records. You three are now Squires of the Duke’s court. Congratulations.”
Paul looked around. “My lord, what if we don’t want to be squires?”
All the men in the room except Dominic burst into laughter.
The mayor smiled in a way Paul had never seen, and a dark shadow of madness fell over his eyes. “And when exactly did the Earl ask what you wanted?”
Paul was silent.
The mayor leaned forward, and his voice took an icy tone, “Did you think the Earl was joking when he warned a violation of your oath to him meant death? I believe the method of execution for refusal of a command from a noble of his rank is beheading. Is that right, Commander?”
“Yes, it is, my Lord.”
“Are there any more questions?” The mayor’s kindhearted smile returned. “Good, then this meeting is adjourned.” He winked at the boys. “Sleep well, squires; you’re going need your strength for what’s to come.”
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Paul Escamilla, 16 yrs old, Squire to Earl Reinhard. formerly, Derrick Williams, US soldier. reborn as Paul. Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier, 36 yrs old Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress, 35 yrs old Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. 50 yr. Crista Escamilla. Paul's 16 year old slave/wife Alfred 16, male, Watch cadet Twin brother of Algar Algar: 16, male, Squire to Earl Reinhard. Twin brother of Alfred Parcell Chambers: 16, male Squire to Earl Reinhard. Master Fenwick Dougal: 50s, former soldier in the Kingdom army, Watch instructor. Vetch Rawls: 45, master scout of the Watch. Desert tracker. Earl Raymond Charles Reinhard: 2nd son of his Grace Duke Cedric Reinhard III. Mayor John: Mayor of Florance, Minor noble Baron Lecher: Swordmaster to Duke Reinhard III Commander Barnes: Commander of the City Watch |
By lancellot
After leaving city hall, the new squires made plans to meet just before sunrise at the fountain in front of the building. The group then separated. Dominic had been silent since leaving the meeting, and Paul thought he knew why. He decided the direct approach was the best.
“I am sorry, Father. I know it seems like I am always saying that after disappointing you.”
Dominic stopped and turned to his son. “You need not apologize, Paul, and I am far from disappointed. What you did to rescue young Alfred made me proud for reasons I can’t express in words. As for the city watch.” He shrugged. “It was beneath your talents anyway. I have always known it. You are on a different path now. One most born to our status never reach. Continue doing your best, and you will always have a proud father.” He wrapped his arm over his son’s shoulder. “Now, how shall we celebrate your good fortune?’’
“Good fortune?’’ Paul asked. “I have become a servant, no, a slave to a noble.”
Dominic tilted his head back and laughed. “Son, servant to the Earl you are. I’ll grant you that, but you are far from a slave. As a squire, you are one step removed from a knight and nobility. You will have access to a world most never see, and you have done this, not by chance of birth but by your noble deeds.”
They ended up forgoing the celebration for Rosetta and Crista’s cooking. When the ladies heard the news of Paul’s becoming a squire, they screamed and jumped for joy. Rosetta openly thanked the three gods; she knew Paul would be kicked off the Watch and was worried about his future.
After dinner and a quick washing, Paul and Crista retired to their little room and prepared for bed. Paul informed Crista that he had to get up before sunrise.
“Everything will be ready for you, Master.” She leaned in, rose on her toes, and kissed him. “But tonight, we must celebrate. Just command me, and I shall make it so.” She kissed him again. “Please,” she whispered in his ear, “I want to.”
Paul felt his excitement rise and thought, Why not? Why should I deny my bride? He leaned down and whispered into Crista’s ear.
She giggled. “I’ve never heard of doing it like that before. How does that work?”
Paul opened her robe and again whispered to her.
“What! You’re going to lick that?” She giggled again and let her robe fall to the floor.
~
True to her word Crista had everything ready for Paul when he awoke that morning, including breakfast. Paul didn’t notice when she left the bed, as they both slept like logs after two rounds of passion. Paul wanted more, but he remembered his promise to his mother, and Crista needed more rest than he did. That was beginning to concern him. He was by no means a superman, but he felt something wasn’t right.
Dressed and armed with lunch, his sword and dagger, Paul set out to town. His parents were also up and said their goodbyes too. The pride and happiness were on their faces. Paul wasn’t sure what a squire’s job was precisely, but it seemed his parents had an idea, and they were thrilled. As he thought about it, Parcell and Algar hadn’t seemed upset about the change in careers either.
The men lined up before Sword Master Lecher as he circled them in a silent inspection. He did not say anything, but the numerous sighs let them know he was not pleased with what he found.
After three minutes, Lecher stood in front of them and gave them his appraisal. “Terrible, just bloody awful. In all my years of service to the Duke and the Earl, I have never encountered such a decrepit group of wannabe men. I have half a mind to march you all into the Earl’s office and demand he reconsider.” He took a deep calming breath before continuing in a lower tone, “But that would reflect poorly on me, and I’ll not have my reputation besmirched by the likes of you.”
Like his friends, Paul stood still and silent throughout Lecher’s tirade, but deep inside, he was laughing like crazy. Master Fenwick had been gruff, but Sword Master Lecher was a carbon copy of a drill instructor. He knew his days of relative comfort and being less than at his physical peak were over.
“Well, I can see-.” The sword master leaned over Algar and took in a deep breath. “And, I can smell that you boys don’t know how to wash your asses properly. You are the Earl’s squires; you must always be presentable, as you are a direct reflection of his lordship. When you are on duty, you must look, speak, walk, and even die like someone worthy to be in the presence of nobility.”
Lecher looked at each squire. “I am a soldier by trade, a swordmaster by choice, and a killer by command. That means you will be all that I am; if you live long enough. Now, let’s see what you peasants are working with. Draw your swords.”
The boys drew their swords and held them vertically before their chest for inspection as they had been taught by Master Fenwick.
Lecher nodded at this but said nothing as he began a close inspection of their weapons. He stopped in front of Algar and stared the boy directly in the eyes. “What in the hell is this?’’
“My lord?’’
Wham! Algar staggered as Lecher’s gloved hand smacked him on the side of his face.
“I am not your Lord. Your Lord is Earl Raymond C. Reinhard. My Lord is how you will address him or other nobility. I am a Sword Master. Master Lecher to you three. And before you think you know something. You are not to refer to me as Baron outside of the Duke’s court. Now, boy, explain to me what I see on your weapon.”
Algar looked at his sword.
Wham! Another blow caused Algar to stumble but he recovered quickly. His cheek throbbed and his eyes narrowed as he glared at Lecher. His sword hand fliched back just a second before he forced it straight. His left hand hovered dangerously over his daggar but did not touch it.
“What in the hell do you think you’re doing, boy? Did you take your eyes off an armed man, a hostile armed man who just knocked you in the head?’’
Algar opened his mouth, only to close it a second later. His jaw twitched but he said nothing. Taking his eyes off Master Lecher is precisely what he did. For several seconds the boy stood with his face going through rapid changes as he held his sword out for inspection. He knew something was wrong with his sword. Something Master Lecher saw, but without looking down at it, how was supposed to know? Without moving his eyes, Algar slowly ran his left hand over the flats of his sword until he stopped. Then his fingers detected something, and his stomach dropped even further than it already had.
“Master, it is a bit of rust, Master.” Algar swallowed and braced himself for another hit.
“Rust, well, that’s a relief; for a moment, I thought it was shit. I figured you were the type of guy who used anything to clean his ass. It’s good to know you’re not a nasty fuck, just a lazy one. Do I need to say it, boy?’’
“No, Master. I will polish it right away, Master.”
“See that you do.” Lecher took a few steps and stopped in front of Parcell. “Hmm. Squire Parcell, tell me. In a combat situation, what would you do if you lost your sword?’’
Parcell was silent for a second before swallowing. “Master, I would use my dagger in defense of my lord, Master.”
Master Lecher raised an eyebrow. “And if you lost your dagger?’’
“Master, then I would use my body or anything I could get my hands on in defense of my lord, Master.”
Lecher smiled, “Well, at least someone is using their head this morning.” He then moved down to Paul. He leaned over the teen and sniffed his hair and neck. “I see. Are you married, Squire Paul?’’
“Master, I have not yet officially wed, but I have taken the weight of a young woman, who is my...um’ my--.” Paul did not want to say the word, but he couldn’t think of another description.
“Your slave. Is that the word you’re struggling with, Squire Paul?’’
“Master, yes, Crista is considered my slave, Master.”
“Ah, considered, you say. So, you do not consider this young woman your slave?’’
“Master, no. I do not, Master.”
“I see. But you just told me Crista is not ‘officially’ your wife. Is she a whore? I can smell her on you. Did you pay her?’’
Paul had to swallow to prevent himself from reacting. “Master, no. She is not a whore. I did not pay her, Master.”
“Well, then either you took this lass against her will, or you have dishonored her, yourself, your family, and your Lord. Which is it, Squire Paul?’’
Paul knew he had errored. Master Lecher had him trapped in illogic of his own making. Again, he had let the morals of his previous life intrude upon his new one. Lecher was right; he was a squire since yesterday, and now a member of the Earl’s household. Anything as small as a lie or dishonorable behavior reflected upon his Lord. Women did not have the same rights as men, but they were not without social protections.
Wham! The facial blow was no less than the one Algar received, but Paul knew it was coming. The knee to his groin he did not. Paul doubled over as some of his half-digested breakfast flew past his teeth.
“I hate rapists, almost as much as I hate people who dishonor my Lord. Please tell me you did not misuse your new position to take advanage of a young lady? Please tell me, I misunderstood you, boy?” Letcher's fist pulled back.
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Paul Escamilla, 16 yrs old, Squire to Earl Reinhard. formerly, Derrick Williams, US soldier. reborn as Paul. Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier, 36 yrs old Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress, 35 yrs old Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. 50 yr. Crista Escamilla. Paul's 16 year old slave/wife Alfred 16, male, Watch cadet Twin brother of Algar Algar: 16, male, Squire to Earl Reinhard. Twin brother of Alfred Parcell Chambers: 16, male Squire to Earl Reinhard. Master Fenwick Dougal: 50s, former soldier in the Kingdom army, Watch instructor. Vetch Rawls: 45, master scout of the Watch. Desert tracker. Earl Raymond Charles Reinhard: 2nd son of his Grace Duke Cedric Reinhard III. Mayor John: Mayor of Florance, Minor noble Baron Lecher: Swordmaster to Duke Reinhard III Commander Barnes: Commander of the City Watch |
By lancellot
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of sexual content.
Paul forced his voice to remain steady. “Master, I was wrong in my statement. I should have said yes. Crista is my registered slave.”
Lecher nodded and then took a step back to address them all.
“Your honor reflects your Lord’s honor. You must always speak the truth unless otherwise ordered by your Lord.” He pointed his finger at Paul. “There is no room for half measures. Squires are not slaves, but not by much. When you stand behind your Lord, you will not look at women with lust in your eyes. The ladies of the court, royalty, nobility, or those in the employ of the Duke and Earl are beyond you. You will address them as my Lady or by name if they are of common standing. You will not compliment them, gaze upon them, or touch them.” He pointed his finger at Paul’s nose. “You will not come into their presence or your Lord’s presence smelling of sex. Rest assured, if I can detect the scent, then your Lord or any person of experience can as well.”
Lecher looked at the rising sun and then at the growing number of people in the street. “You may sheath your swords.”
The boys put their weapons away and stood at attention.
“The Duke’s colors are black and red. Black for the night sky above us, and red for blood within all life. These are the colors you will wear while on duty.” He then reached into his robe, withdrew three small coin purses, and tossed one to each squire. “As I said, you are not slaves, and therefore will receive a weekly wage. What you have now is slightly more than the normal amount you will earn. Use this to purchase the items you require. The better I or our Lord views your work; the more your pay can be, but --. Do I need to say it?”
“No, Master,” the boys all replied. If they did poorly in their duties, then their wages would drop.
Lecher again looked at the people filling the square and gawking at them. “That is all for today. We will meet here tomorrow at sunrise. Today, I expect you to acquire clothes befitting your new status and in the right colors. Black kilts and red robes are fine, or any combination, so long as you look worthy of being the Earl’s squire. Dismissed.”
Paul quickly stepped forward. “Master, a final question?”
Lecher nodded.
“Should we be uniform in appearance?”
Algar and Parcell looked at each other and then towards Master Lecher as if they too wondered the same.
Lecher grinned. “You are not in the watch, nor are you soldiers. Squires are not military.” He raised a finger. “Under normal circumstances, that is. But, we shall cover that later. No, you only need to wear the Duke’s colors and be presentable.” He turned and walked away.
Paul tilted his head towards City Hall. Parcell and Algar followed him inside. There they found an unoccupied booth in the corner of the Adventures’ Lounge.
Parcell opened his purse and immediately whistled. He then looked around before dumping the contents in his hand. “One large gold coin, five small gold coins, ten silver coins, and five copper coins.”
The other squires emptied their purses and ogled at their glittering coins.
“I’ve never had so much money at one time before.” Algar counted the coins twice. “It is more than my father makes in two months. Do you think our standard wage is much less, Paul?”
Paul counted the money he had too. The money system was quite simple: ten coppers equal one silver coin, ten silvers equal one small gold coin, and ten small golds equal one large gold coin.
Paul pocketed his money. “That may be. Master Lecher tasked us with getting clothing befitting our new rank. If we fail in that, we can’t blame lack of money.”
“Ah, we have shopping to do,” said Algar stuffing his purse into his robes. “And then perhaps a visit to the bathhouse later tonight.”
“Count me in,” said Parcell rising from his seat. “You, coming, Paul?”
Paul rose from his seat. “No, I have some things I need to do. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”
Parcell smiled. “You mean, you don’t bathe without your woman anymore.”
“As long as he bathes alone in the morning, he will be alright.” Algar stood. “Come along, Parcell. We need new sword cleaning kits before we get clothes.”
Paul left the building and headed home. He knew Crista would be alone taking care of the household chores, as Rosetta had resumed working. Even if Paul didn’t want to think of his girl as a slave, she was. She could not get a job or walk freely about town unescorted. Rosetta had assured him that most people knew Crista was a part of the Escamilla family, soon to be Paul’s wife, and no one would harass her. But, her status still irked him. Master Lecher had made it clear; Crista was a slave, and there were no half measures about it. As a slave, she had no official rights. She could not leave the city without authorization from her owner. She could not go shopping alone, as she was not allowed to hold money without written permission from her owner.
Paul would have to marry her soon, but he needed a house of his own and stability for that. Squire to the Earl was a good start, but only time would tell how that progressed. In the meantime, he would go home and get his woman. If he were going shopping for new clothes, Crista would get new things as well. At present, she wore hand-me-downs from his mother. Crista was much smaller than Rosetta and lacked Rosetta’s exotic curves, so her clothes required a lot of alteration; luckily, Paul’s mother was an expert.
The plan was to quickly pick up Crista and then go shopping for clothes. After shopping, lunch in a cozy café downtown, but -- having an empty house to themselves proved too much of a temptation to resist.
***************
Parcell and Algar lay immersed in steaming hot water, while sipping beer with two lovely mermaids. A mermaid’s job was an accepted and honored bathhouse tradition. The young unmarried women put their all into cleaning, scrubbing, and seeing to all their clients’ needs.
Algar was especially pleased. He loved ladies with long slender legs. When his mermaid spread her legs over his shoulders as she washed his hair, he felt like nobility.
Parcell sighed for the millionth time as he leaned back and snuggled his soapy head between his mermaid’s massive breasts. He occasionally tickled the young woman’s toes making her squeal. Suddenly a thought came to him.
“Hey, Algar, are you okay with living at the Earl’s estate without Alfred?”
Algar shrugged. “I’ll miss him, but this is how it is. Besides, I’ll see my family when we’re off duty and can get back here. Though that may not be as often as I would like.”
“Do you think Paul understands we will be leaving the city, and he won’t see Crista much either?”
Algar rolled his eyes. “You know our fearless leader. There are things he knows but shouldn’t and --"
Together they sang, “Things he should know but doesn’t.”
The woman rinsed Parecell’s hair and then leaned into his ear. “Your bath is complete, Squire, or would you like—" Her hand slid down his smooth chest and dipped below the water. "Extra services?"
Parcell sighed. “I would love to, but Baron Lecher seems to frown upon--"
“Hold on a minute.” Algar held out his hand. He turned to look at his mermaid. “Are you also offering your services?”
The tall blonde smiled. “We do everything together – for a fair price.”
Algar turned and pulled the woman onto his lap.
“Wait, Al, you heard what Lecher--” Parcell began.
“I did, but like Paul, you did not. He did not say partaking in a young lady's -- extra services was not allowed; only that she must be compensated for those freely given services, if she is not your slave or wife.” Algar lifted the slim woman. “Two silvers apiece?”
The mermaid reached down under the water. “My lord is very generous.”
Algar gently lowered the woman to where she needed to be.
Parcel looked at the raven-haired beauty behind him. “Two silvers?”
The woman smiled. “Two and your promise to request us again upon your next visit.” Giggling, she spun the young squire around.
| Author Notes |
No, this chapter isn't about sex, but it is about what actual teen males, who have risen in rank, become town heroes, overcame death, and were given more money than they've ever seen, would do under those circumstances. If they did anything else, other than get laid, that would be unrealistic. Even fantasy tales require realism.
Characters so far: Paul Escamilla, 16 yrs old, Squire to Earl Reinhard. formerly, Derrick Williams, US soldier. reborn as Paul. Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier, 36 yrs old Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress, 35 yrs old Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. 50 yr. Crista Escamilla. Paul's 16 year old slave/wife Alfred 16, male, Watch cadet Twin brother of Algar Algar: 16, male, Squire to Earl Reinhard. Twin brother of Alfred Parcell Chambers: 16, male Squire to Earl Reinhard. Master Fenwick Dougal: 50s, former soldier in the Kingdom army, Watch instructor. Vetch Rawls: 45, master scout of the Watch. Desert tracker. Earl Raymond Charles Reinhard: 2nd son of his Grace Duke Cedric Reinhard III. Mayor John: Mayor of Florance, Minor noble Baron Lecher: Swordmaster to Duke Reinhard III Commander Barnes: Commander of the City Watch Pays 10 points and 62 member cents. |
By lancellot
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of sexual content.
Paul and Crista lay in bed, enjoying the warmth and relaxation of being young and adventurous, when it occurred to Paul that Crista really enjoyed sex, even the non-traditional. Not that he was surprised a woman would. In his past life, he knew women who were always down for some action. But Crista was a slave to a brute and mentioned that she was not clean before she and Paul got together. He was no psychologist, and Parcell had hinted she might need therapy for some trauma. The odd thing was, during all their time together, Paul didn’t see anything wrong with her. Although, she could've been concealing it as a dutiful slave. In the movies, slaves always had some trauma, didn’t they?
“Crista, are you… are you happy doing-” He waved his hand over their naked bodies. “Doing this? I know things were difficult with Joqumoe and Ben.”
Crista was silent for some time. Paul began to worry that he had opened an old wound or re-traumatized the girl.
“Master, you are not Joqumoe. I did not enjoy my servitude to him or Ben. I was relieved when you dispatched them both and took me as your own. As far as-” She waved a hand over their bodies as Paul did. “This is concerned, the answer is, yes. I enjoy it very much. More so when you use your tongue down there. Indeed, I have not been a virgin for many years. As for Joqumoe and Ben, yes, they did try me a few times at first, but I was not to their liking, and they soon ignored me. They seemed to find greater pleasure in each other, rather than me. They kept me around mostly so people would assume they shared me instead of each other. But that was a good thing, as they assumed other men were hiding their dislike of women also. So, they did not offer me to many men, mostly women.”
“I see.” Paul felt a bit better. I will just ignore the women part.
Crista faced Paul. “Master, may I ask you something?”
“Sure, anything.”
“What is wrong with you?”
“What?” Paul was stunned, and a bit worried. “Nothing. I’m fine.” His hand instinctively covered his deflated penis.
“No, not that; well, not exactly.” She paused and took a deep breath. “When we thought you dead. Your parents sometimes argued. Some things I did not understand, but some of it--” She placed a hand over Paul’s heart. “Master, I have been with enough men and women to tell you are different. You do not tire after one or two times, and you last so much longer. It scared me at first, but your mother said she would make sure you did not injure me.” She stared into his eyes. “And you haven’t since our first time, but your mother was not surprised by you.”
Crista paused. “Master, your parents spoke of you being reborn to them from another world. I thought it was their grief, but now I’m not so sure. And, then there is the matter of your wounds.”
That last line caught Paul off guard. His parents arguing about his reincarnation after he went missing was logical. Crista was uneducated, not stupid. Like any woman, she would come to intimately know the man she slept with.
He sat up. “Okay, I’ll tell you everything, but first. What about my wounds?”
Crista silently stared into his eyes for a few seconds. “You don't know?”
Paul shook his head. “No, I don’t.”
“You… you heal faster than anyone I've ever seen.”
Crista again paused, then abruptly sat up too, causing her small breasts to jiggle.
The move brought a grin to Paul’s face and his mind temporarily wandered.
“When you killed Joqumoe and Ben, you were injured, but your cuts healed before we got home. And when your father punished you, and you were able to fight back, after carrying me home and fighting for me."
Paul almost stopped Crista. He didn't actually fight for her, or intend to take her weight. All of that was his ignorant mistakes. He simply didn't have the heart to tell her that if she had been a he, as Paul had first assumed, he would have likely killed her too. Now, he was glad he didn't.
Crista continued, "I watched your mother go out and yell at your father. He said, ‘you know he will be fine, woman.’ At the time, I assumed he meant he would hold back and not hurt you, but he beat you pretty badly."
Paul thought back to that night. Yes, he got his butt kicked. He also remembered his mother briefly coming outside. His parents exchanged words, but he couldn’t make it out. He looked up at Crista and noticed she was still talking.
“Then that night as you slept, I watched your bruises disappear. Your ribs appeared cracked at first, but then -- you were fine when the sun came up. And your--” Crista reached over and gently stroked Paul’s semi-erection. It responded instantly. “You see; we did it twice, and still you rise with the slightest touch, as if nothing happened before.”
“Well, I’m--” Paul was going to say he was young now, but he knew that wasn’t enough. He was young before, and what Crista described he couldn’t do then. No normal man could; his drive and recovery were beyond porn-star ability. He could keep going after multiple ejaculations. He only stopped because Crista had limits and his mother's warning about losing himself. I will have to speak with Mother when I get the chance. “For now, let’s assume I’m just an extremely healthy person.”
Paul climbed out of bed and began to dress. “We can talk about my oddities later. Right now, we have shopping to do. I need suitable clothes for work, and you need new clothes, period.”
Crista climbed out of bed. “Wait, your mother made some things for you.”
She ran from the room naked. Paul almost stopped her, but then he remembered they were alone. We do need our own house. When Crista returned holding up his mother’s creations, he could only smile.
“Yeah, now we’re talking, and the right colors too. I guess that's from her time at the Duke's castle,” he said, taking the items in hand. “I hope they fit. My designs weren’t exact.”
“I can adjust them. Mom has been teaching me.”
Paul thought the smile on her face was brighter than sunshine, and he noticed she called Rosetta, mom. “You two are amazing, but there are still a few things I want to pick up, and you are getting new clothes. Get dressed, and let’s go.”
****
Algar watched the two mermaids wrap towels around themselves and silently leave their room. He glanced over at the small table next to his bed and at the coins spilling out of his purse. He did not need to count it; he knew the ladies took four silvers and no more. Mermaids were professionals, and their honor was unimpeachable. Nothing that happened inside the room would ever escape their lips. The laws that covered them forbid them from disclosing their clients' secrets and it protected them from reprisals or harm.
Algar remembered years ago when a drunk client struck a mermaid and refused to pay her. He could still hear the man’s screams when the mayor had him whipped in the public square. The mermaid he hit was even allowed to deliver the last three strikes on his naked body, and she hit what she was aiming for.
“Al, you sleep?” Parcell asked.
“Nope. I’m tired, but my heart is still pounding like crazy.”
“Mine too. Can I ask you something?”
“Yes, it was my first time. You?”
Parcell exhaled loudly. “Yes. Jamie and I fooled around some, and she offered to let me go all the way after we made it back.”
Algar propped himself up on his pillow. “Why'd you pass it up?”
“I wanted her, still do, but I kept thinking, what about tomorrow? I knew we’d be expelled from the Watch, and I didn’t know what I was going to do. If I took Jamie, I would’ve had to take her weight too. She is just that kind of girl, but then what?”
“Yeah, I see. To be honest, I didn’t think we would survive either. So, I never thought about what would happen next. To be expelled and then made squires to an Earl. It’s all so surreal.” Algar turned to his partner. “You know, you could take Jamie’s weight now. Why don’t you?”
Parcell closed his eyes and sighed. “We’re going back underground. Baron Lecher is a Swordmaster. We aren’t his squires, but he is training us. That means the Earl expects us to face dangers enough that we may not survive without Lecher’s expert training. I don’t want to leave a widow. I can’t do that to Jamie.”
“You broke up with her, didn’t you? That’s why you’re here drowning your sorrows in mermaid breasts.”
Parcell smiled. “Not just breasts. Did you see Teresa’s butt?”
Algar threw a pillow at his friend. “See! I can still feel the both of them when they tag-teamed me. I can also see us getting thumped by Master Lecher if we’re late tomorrow.”
“Yeah, I know.” Parcell blew out the lantern by his bed.
“Parcell.”
“Yeah.”
“Mermaids are nice, but I think wives are better. Maybe, you should talk to Jamie. At least, wait to see what serving under the Earl is like. Nothing so far has happened as we expected.”
“Hmm. Maybe. Don’t forget to set and wind the alarm.”
“Yeah, yeah. You know, tonight was better than I imagined it would be.”
“It was, but still, Al — something was missing.”
“Maybe you should invite Jamie next time.”
A pillow hit Algar in the head. "Ha, that's a love reaction."
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Paul Escamilla, 16 yrs old, Squire to Earl Reinhard. formerly, Derrick Williams, US soldier. reborn as Paul. Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier, 36 yrs old Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress, 35 yrs old Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. 50 yr. Crista Escamilla. Paul's 16 year old slave/wife Alfred 16, male, Watch cadet Twin brother of Algar Algar: 16, male, Squire to Earl Reinhard. Twin brother of Alfred Parcell Chambers: 16, male Squire to Earl Reinhard. Master Fenwick Dougal: 50s, former soldier in the Kingdom army, Watch instructor. Vetch Rawls: 45, master scout of the Watch. Desert tracker. Earl Raymond Charles Reinhard: 2nd son of his Grace Duke Cedric Reinhard III. Mayor John: Mayor of Florance, Minor noble Baron Lecher: Swordmaster to Duke Reinhard III Commander Barnes: Commander of the City Watch |
By lancellot
The second son of Duke Reinhard finished his proposals. The Earl’s presentation should have been twice as long, but the men's faces around the table encouraged him to end it quickly.
“Thank you, Earl.” The Duke’s voice showed no sign of what he was thinking. His mild blue eyes lingered on Raymond. “You’ve all read the Earl’s report, and you’ve listened to his… suggestion. What are your thoughts?”
Several of the men around the table quietly conversed with each other. Some kept their counsel to themselves. Earl Raymond Charles Reinhard already knew the outcome. His father had referred to him by title and not by name. That slight deviation would be noticed by the powerful men in the room, including his brother.
“Father, your Grace.” The Marquise Edward Hall Reinhard, the first son of Duke Reinhard, stood. “Gentle noblemen, I love my little brother, but even I cannot support his ill-advised exploration at this time. The kingdom and our territory stand at a crucial moment. The king expects us to face the challenge of this pending attack realistically and decisively. We cannot assume assistance from the crown or the other regions without a solid defense grounded in the here and now and not our wishes. I support General’s Alexander plan. A quick preemptive strike is the only way to convince the desert tribes we are not to be trifled with.”
There were mumbles of agreement and nodding of heads from the Lords in the room as Edward retook his seat. Ever so slightly, he displayed the briefest of grins to Raymond.
General Yosef Alexander stood. His full gray hair shone like silver in the torchlight, in stark contrast to his solid well-toned body. A veteran of two wars and numerous skirmishes, he was a man whose military judgment was second to none. Though born of a lower noble family, his skill and reputation elevated his name above all except the kingdom’s highest-ranked families.
“Your Grace.” Yosef slightly bowed to the Duke. “The Marquise echo’s my assessment. We cannot afford to wait and fight on the invader’s terms. We have sixty thousand men stationed here and another ten thousand in reserve. The young Earl’s idea is bold, but we have no way of knowing if these tunnels lead anywhere but circles and dead ends. I encourage his Grace to approve the plan of a preemptive attack on our enemy.” The General sat to the sound of men banging their fists on the table in support.
Raymond knew the outcome before he entered the room. His spies had been delivering the same reports since his return to the castle. While he was away, his brother had been busy gathering support and trashing his name, not for personal reasons, of course, just for the benefit and wellbeing of the territory. Edward always reminded everyone how much he adored his brother. He only hoped young Raymond would get his head out of the past and stand in the present as their father wished.
Yes, Raymond knew the council would dismiss his plan. His father had no choice given the politics of the situation. That’s why Raymond never planned on the council’s approval.
Raymond stood. “Father, Councilmen. I will not stand against my elders’ vast wisdom. Men, supplies, and finances are needed against the threat we face, and I would never think of diverting a single soul or coin for what my dear brother rightly calls my little exploration. Brave men fight wars head-on, but brave men also go where none have gone before. With my father’s blessing, I will take a small group of non-combat men, at no cost to the war effort, and explore these tunnels.” He held open his empty hands. “Perhaps nothing will come of it beyond finding a small place to use as storage or, in case of the worst, a refuge for our women and children.” Raymond bowed his head and then retook his seat at his father’s left.
The room was silent. The Earl’s concession and words were unexpected, and if the worst happened, an underground space would be safe for – at least the women and children of nobility to shelter.
Edward glared at Raymond, his lower lip occasionally twitching as his mind swirled. What is he planning? Why is he so calm? Women and children, my ass. Though that was smart; most nobles are cowards always seeking to save their fat asses.
The Duke cleared his throat. “I appreciate the wise counsel I have received today. We will proceed with a preemptive strike. We must bring the Desert tribes to heel. Ruling in the wasteland is one thing but threatening the kingdom is another. General, prepare your men and move when ready.”
The Duke turned his eyes to his sons. “Edward will represent me in the field of battle. Raymond, you may conduct your survey of a possible refuge for our most vulnerable. May the three Gods see such a place is never required.” He looked across the table. “Though we fight today to preserve our present, we must never forget that the children are our future.” The Duke pulled his chair back and rose. “For his Majesty, and the people of Valeria, go forward. Dismissed.”
As the men filed out, the Duke and his two sons remained. No words were said but seeing the three men remain motionless was all the signal the others need. When the last man exited the room, a guard firmly closed the door behind him.
The Duke turned to his eldest. “Edward, I want you to proceed with caution. There is much we do not know. Should victory be at hand and the villains flee, do not give too much of a chase. The desert is their home, not ours; even great numbers can become a disadvantage in the unknown.”
“I will, Father, but--” Edward's face was ripe with concern. “It would be beneficial for Raymond to join my command to gain experience. The men need to know that he can--”
The Duke raised his hand. “I have made my decision. There will be other opportunities for Raymond to gain battle experience. Go see to your preparations.”
Edward stood, bowed to his father, spared a piercing glare to his brother, and then left the room.
Alone with his youngest, the Duke stood, rubbed his temples, and then walked to the room’s single window. Raymond followed his father. They looked out to the garden below in silence for several minutes.
“I had hoped,” the Duke began, then shook his head. “I guess it was a futile hope. I did not want to believe Edward’s disdain for you went that deep. I thought, officially naming him as my heir would be enough, but I see that power alone can not quell his hatred of you. A hatred, born of my own -- weakness and not of your doing.”
Raymond offered nothing and asked nothing. He knew all too well why his half-brother hated him. The death of Edward’s mother had left him heartless. Many years ago, the then Duchess was heartbroken when she discovered the only man she had ever loved could not keep his vows. Then, one of Cedric’s affairs with a beautiful young noble resulted in her pregnancy, a thing she could not or chose not to prevent. Either way, her pregnancy could not be brushed aside or hidden. It proved to be the last straw for the Duchess. The humiliation and betrayal were too much for the gentlewoman to bear. She jumped from the balcony of her room into the courtyard garden. She was likely unaware that her young son, Edward, played in that very garden at that exact moment. The child witnessed his mother cry out his father’s name in anguish before plummeting to her death.
The young Duke was devastated and filled with guilt, but he had impregnated the daughter of a powerful noble, and grief or not, the honor of the man’s house was at stake. And so, a mere week after his late wife’s funeral, Duke Cedric Reinhard III remarried. Six or nine months later, who could say for sure, the new Duchess gave birth to a son, christened Raymond Charles Reinhard. But the realities of marriage are not those of an affair. Cedric’s passion for the young woman soon cooled, and the young lady found motherhood, not to her liking. The Duchess Romania Reinhard now spends most of her time in the family’s country estate pursuing – personal interests. Edward’s hatred did not lessen with her absence, and finally, Duke Reinhard understood, it never would.
Raymond did not want to say it, but he knew they’d come too far for it to go unsaid. “Then you know why he wants me with him in battle?”
The Duke nodded, and a single tear rolled down his face. “It would be a battle where you would not return. I am sorry, Raymond. I am so sorry. At times, it feels all I have felt for decades is sorrow I can never escape from.”
“You do not need to apologize, Father. I know what it means to be a young noble, and I understand the forces protecting Edward. Worry not; I can handle my brother.”
The Duke embraced his son. “This tunnel exploration; are you sure it is wise? Perhaps you could spend some time at your mother’s estate. You’ll be safe there. With her families’--”
Raymond smiled. “Mother does not need me intruding on her. You know how she likes her privacy. Besides, I do believe those tunnels are important and need to be explored sooner rather than later.”
Raymond parted from his father with assurances he would be careful. In the corridor leading to his room, he met up with Swordmaster Lecher. “You’re looking chipper this evening, Kreo.”
“It has been a fascinating couple of days, my Lord.”
“Oh, and how are my new squires working out?”
“They are good lads, though they have much to learn about serving nobility. Are you sure that--”
Raymond waved his hand. “Unfortunately, my brother’s reach goes far. I cannot trust the sons of even lesser nobles. Those boys may be commoners, but they have proven their courage and loyalty. Today, those are qualities in short supply. Besides, I’m sure you’ll whip them into proper shape. You did a great job with me.” The Earl paused as a servant walked by. “Are the preparations complete?”
Lecher lowered his voice. “Mostly, and speaking of squires. Young Escamilla had a unique idea for a weapon against the spiders.”
“The what?”
“Scrappers, my Lord. For some reason, he calls them spiders. It seems to fit. Anyhow, I have your blacksmith working on the weapons.”
The Earl nodded. “Good, I’ll take whatever advantage we can get. I’m sure my brother has a contingency plan. Gather the men. We leave immediately.” He grabbed Lecher’s arm. “Let it be known we are heading to my mother’s estate. That may give us a day or two.”
“Yes, my lord.” Lecher bowed and then left the Earl.
“Brother, what am I to do with you?” Expecting no answer from the air, Raymond hurried on his way.
| Author Notes |
Please ignore the bold type. I can't remove it for some reason.
Characters so far: Paul Escamilla, 16 yrs old, Squire to Earl Reinhard. formerly, Derrick Williams, US soldier. reborn as Paul. Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier, 36 yrs old Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress, 35 yrs old Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. 50 yr. Crista Escamilla. Paul's 16 year old slave/wife Alfred 16, male, Watch cadet Twin brother of Algar Algar: 16, male, Squire to Earl Reinhard. Twin brother of Alfred Parcell Chambers: 16, male Squire to Earl Reinhard. Master Fenwick Dougal: 50s, former soldier in the Kingdom army, Watch instructor. Vetch Rawls: 45, master scout of the Watch. Desert tracker. Earl Raymond Charles Reinhard: 2nd son of his Grace Duke Cedric Reinhard III. Mayor John: Mayor of Florance, Minor noble Baron Lecher: Swordmaster to Duke Reinhard III Commander Barnes: Commander of the City Watch General Yosef Alexander: Commander of Duke Reinhard's Army. Marquise Edward Hall Reinhard: Eldest son of Duke Reinhard, half-brother to Earl Raymond Reinhard |
By lancellot
For over a week, Baron Lecher used his title when it was to his advantage, held squire training in a half-constructed arena. With a few words Baron Lecher convinced (bullied) Mayor Hamilton into allowing him to use the space for training.
The squires sweated, ran, climbed, and fought ten hours a day. Then for two hours before leaving, all four students learned the manners and customs of nobility. Master Lecher would accept nothing less than excellence from those who worked for or could encounter the Earl.
The day after giving them their funds for new clothing, Lecher again had them line up for inspection at the town’s fountain. The first two times, they began alone, but this time they had a spectator. Paul had given in to Crista’s pleading to come and watch. He didn’t think it would be of interest to the girl, but the simple fact that she had asked and then kept asking after he said no amazed him. It was a new side of her, and he had to admit, he liked it. Paul wrote her a travel pass, just in case the Sword Master did not want her present, but Lecher was okay with her presence.
The boys had been in line for at least five minutes, holding their swords in front of them before Master Lecher spoke. He circled the boys three times, seemingly searching for--whatever he was looking for. Lecher finally stopped in front of Paul, and then beyond anyone’s expectation, laughed. He laughed so hard and so long that Crista, sitting on the edge of the fountain in one of her new dresses, began laughing too. A few onlookers also pointed at Paul and laughed.
Paul’s face never felt hotter. He was warned by his father.
Dominic stared at his son. "You look like a fool and not the kind kids laugh with; the kind grown men and women laugh at."
But, Paul didn't listen. Wearing pants made him feel like his old self. The new garments resembled black cargo pants, complete with oversized pockets along the legs and two back pockets with latches. A black leather belt kept them up. But that wasn’t the end; while in town, Paul purchased small sleeping gowns he had dyed red and several black leather robes.
That night Rosetta and Crista, under his guidance, adjusted all the new garments to his specifications, despite his father’s constant pleadings.
So it came to be that morning, Paul stood in black cargo pants, with a dagger strapped on his thigh, dark red long-sleeved shirt with a black hoodie, modified black leather boots with dark red trim, a black leather trench coat that stopped just above his ankles and his sword’s scabbard, also dyed dark red, strapped to his back.
That night, Paul had envisioned himself as a white teenage Blade. He thought he would revolutionize Florence and bring a new age of style to her people; along with money for the family.
The morning’s constant laugher convinced him otherwise, but without anything else to wear, he had to endure.
Finally, Master Lecher regained control of himself. He walked in front of Parcell and Algar. “Well, at least you two look the part of competent squires. I see you’ve worked together as a team, without my having to tell you, good.”
Parcell and Algar both stood a bit taller after the compliment. They had indeed worked and shopped together. Algar was used to buying two of everything with his brother. He convinced Parcell to play Alfred’s part. They wore matching black and red kilts, black shirts and boots, and dark black robes, with red sashes around their waist. Their swords hung from their hips in the typical fashion. They were clean-shaven and their hair neatly trimmed. They could pass as two young minor nobles or, as Master Lecher pointed out, two aspiring young squires.
“Now you two,” Lecher started and then sighed when he looked at Paul. “I mean three. We are moving locations. I have secured us a proper training ground where we can work without interruption. Worry not, I have purchased you separate training garments.” He took one last look at Paul. “I suppose in future, I will have to be more specific with my instructions.”
Master Lecher set off for the new area followed by two impeccable squires, one oddball who kept attracting attention, and one cute young woman in a very colorful summer dress.
The squires fought well during their sparring sessions. Master Lecher was moderately pleased with the knowledge they had learned from their time with the Watch. Parcell seemed to have a natural ability with the sword and was by far the best of the three. Algar worked well in team trials. Master Lecher figured that had to do with always working in pairs with his brother. He was very impressed with Oddball in tactics and endurance, a nickname he took to calling Paul. It was clear Paul had some additional military training and command experience. Master Lecher assumed Dominic was responsible for that, but the boy didn’t take to archery or swordsmanship very well. Paul's skills were below average in those areas.
On day one, Crista sat in the stands watching. On day two, she had moved to the sidelines and had brought Paul lunch. On day three, she had a chair, table, and a parasol on the edge of the field, and she brought lunches for everyone, including Master Lecher.
On the fourth day, Crista wore a thinner form of pants under her, now knee-length dress. She said Paul called them yoga pants, and she liked them. The other squires liked them too, but they kept that to themselves, besides the occasional stare.
Since the girl was obviously going to keep coming and her food was pretty good, Master Lecher decided to put her to work. Crista became his assistant, complete with pencil and pad to keep notes, a whistle, and a stopwatch.
They had been training for a week when Master Lecher announced they would have an hour for lunch, as he had a meeting to attend.
Paul and Crista were sitting under her parasol eating when Paul again noticed the silver stopwatch hanging from Crista’s neck. He took the roughly five-inch diameter disk in his hand and watched as the tiny second hand ticked away on its circular journey.
“Do you like it, Master? This one is very nice but expensive. There is a watchmaker on Main Street. You can get a tin one for two silver pieces, maybe less if you haggle.”
“Hmm, you know, it’s things like this that make this world seem strange to me. There are fine watches, but no pants. Giant lizards and spiders but normal horses and cows.” He let go of the watch and looked up into the blue sky. “At night, the stars shine as they always have, but there is no moon and usually no strong wind. When I thought this was a different world, I just accepted it, but now that I know this is my world, I wonder what happened?” He smiled and then kissed Crista on the cheek. “I guess I shouldn’t complain; at least the people are the same. No one with horns, green scales or wings flying in the sky.”
Crista blinked and laid a hand on Paul’s arm. “Wings; you mean like the Aerials? Though most adults can’t fly anymore, the small children do, or so I’ve heard.” She smiled, happy to be able to contribute to the conversation.
“Wait. What?” Paul wasn’t sure he heard her. “Aerials, Crista, are you saying there are people with wings, and they fly?”
Crista nodded emphatically and then paused. “Well, I have only seen two Aerials in my life, they were both adult merchants, and they didn’t fly. I have never seen an Aerial fly, but then they mostly keep to the northern region in the mountains, but I have heard that when young before they get too heavy, they fly all the time.” She giggled. “I wonder if it’s hard to catch a flying baby.”
This time it was Paul who stared in confusion. His mind was suddenly filled with questions. He had to pace himself when asking. Over the hour, Crista answered most of his questions with a shrug. She knew more than he, but the depth of her knowledge and experience were only what she had witnessed. Though born in another town, she thought, she had no memories before being sold into slavery as a small child.
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Paul Escamilla, 16 yrs old, Squire to Earl Reinhard. formerly, Derrick Williams, US soldier. reborn as Paul. Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier, 36 yrs old Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress, 35 yrs old Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. 50 yr. Crista Escamilla. Paul's 16 year old slave/wife Alfred 16, male, Watch cadet Twin brother of Algar Algar: 16, male, Squire to Earl Reinhard. Twin brother of Alfred Parcell Chambers: 16, male Squire to Earl Reinhard. Master Fenwick Dougal: 50s, former soldier in the Kingdom army, Watch instructor. Vetch Rawls: 45, master scout of the Watch. Desert tracker. Earl Raymond Charles Reinhard: 2nd son of his Grace Duke Cedric Reinhard III. Mayor John: Mayor of Florence, Minor noble Baron Lecher: Swordmaster to Duke Reinhard III Commander Barnes: Commander of the City Watch General Yosef Alexander: Commander of Duke Reinhard's Army. Marquise Edward Hall Reinhard: Eldest son of Duke Reinhard, half-brother to Earl Raymond Reinhard |
By lancellot
Eventually, the hour came to an end, and Master Lecher had not returned. But, he had given his assistant instructions on what he wanted, so Crista had them doing laps, with a rock-filled pack on their back.
When Parcell asked Crista why? She answered in Lecher’s voice, “Do you expect your master to carry his pack?” She then giggled and blew her whistle. She liked the whistle.
Paul tried to ask Parcell and Algar questions about the Aerials. At first, they shared what little they knew, but they became too tired to talk as the laps went by. Paul showed less fatigue and eventually pulled ahead of them.
Master Lecher and Mayor Flinn watched them from the shadows. They knew the packs Parcell and Algar carried were thirty pounds each, and unknown to Paul, his pack was fifty pounds. They were closing in on twenty minutes of running, and Paul had lapped his friends twice already.
“How does he do it?” Lecher asked. “I know he’s odd, but he doesn’t appear any stronger than the others. Hell, Parcell’s muscles are more developed.”
Mayor Flinn shook his head. “He has always been odd. My wife is friends with his mother. I remember her saying years ago that Rosetta had it easy because her baby didn’t cry and was never sick. I remember seeing him as a baby a few times. Rosetta works as a seamstress, and once I visited the shop in which she works, Paul must have been about six or seven months old. I saw him sitting in his rocker next to her. He looked at me with these huge brown eyes, and I felt like he was appraising me. He never cried or did anything to disturb her. I made nothing of it. Rosetta eventually kept the boy home, and he never had any friends that I know of. It was quite a shock to everyone when he purchased Crista and then took her weight.”
“Hmm, yes, he doesn’t think of the girl as a slave, and she doesn’t act like any I’ve known. I wonder what made him purchase her. He doesn’t seem the type to own a slave.”
“To tell you the truth, none of the Escamillas appear that way. But I’m glad he did. She used to belong to two brothers. They were always causing trouble after their parents died. That’s how they inherited Crista, by the way. I heard they disliked her and treated her poorly. I guess that's why they sold her. A good thing too with the brothers getting killed so soon after.”
Lecher perked up. “Killed?”
“Yes, their bodies were found a day or so after they sold Crista. They probably got in a scrap over the money or owed someone a lot tougher more than they got for selling the girl. It happens, even in Florence.” The mayor pulled out his pocket watch. “Well, I better be getting back. Let me know if you need anything.”
Master Lecher turned his eyes back to the field. Parcell and Algar were laid out on the grass, while Paul and Crista stood over them. Killed, he thought. The mayor didn’t seem all that concerned with the death of two troublemakers. He was probably relieved. Lecher stared at Paul. The boy is barely competent with a sword but far better with a dagger. Hmm, the mayor didn’t say how the brothers died.
Lecher shook his head. He couldn’t see Paul as a murderer, but a killer; now that was something different. The boy seemed a natural soldier, and at the end of the day, a soldier was simply a state hired killer. The more Lecher thought about it, the more reasonable it seemed. Say, the boy was out and about, and he witnessed the two thugs abusing the girl. What would he do? What would a soldier who treated a slave like a lady do?
Lecher could see Paul attempting to talk it out and getting nowhere with young street thugs. Eventually, a fight would happen, and with Paul’s greater endurance, tactics, and knife skills. Yes, he could easily kill two untrained ruffians. Then what? He wouldn’t or couldn’t leave a small thing like Crista alone; his honor wouldn’t allow it, not the son of Dominic Escamilla. And if he killed the two, who better to help him cover it up than a captain of the city watch? Who would even question such a man’s word when he showed up to register the slave transfer?
Master Lecher looked up at the falling sun and then at the group of happy teens. Like the mayor, he decided he didn’t care about the death of two thugs. If the Earl wanted to know more about the lad’s past or the girl’s origins, he would relay his thoughts, but it was of no concern until then. And, if Paul was capable of killing, then so much the better. That was one less lesson he would have to teach the boy.
The last few days of training consisted of protocol, custom, and expectations. The first two were not much of a problem for Paul or Algar and Parcell, but the last was something they had known would come but chose to put off.
“His lordship will be returning soon,” Master Lecher addressed the boys as they stood in a line. He had his assistant a step behind him. “He has assembled an exploration team for the tunnels you lads discovered. We will be away no more than three weeks, assuming the tunnels lead that far out. Once we return, his lordship will return to his estate, and as his squires, you will return with him.”
Parcell and Algar already knew this, so neither of them reacted. Paul couldn’t keep his eyes from turning to Crista. He was, of course, noticed by Master Lecher.
“Squires are housed in the guard’s wing of the estate. There, two quarters have been set aside. One is a dorm-style room, large enough for three squires with a common lavatory, and the other is a midsized suite with a lavatory. This larger room is reserved for the Head Squire. No, I will not be leading your day-to-day activities. I have a real job. That means one of you will lead. Normally, that position would fall to the most senior, but as you three all began together, you’ll have to decide who...”
Parcell and Algar both took one step back, leaving Paul in the forefront of the line.
Master Lecher nodded his head. “Well, I guess that takes care of that.” He pulled out his pocket watch. “No more training today. For those who don’t know, and I won’t even ask why you don’t, the Earl’s estate is about fifteen miles north of the city. I’ll have a wagon at the fountain tomorrow morning at dawn to take you to your new home. If you’re late, you walk.”
Master Lecher began to walk away, then stopped. “I forgot. The position of Head Squire comes with a newly added benefit. The presence of a wife or betrothed.” He allowed a rare smile. “Besides, I’ve become quite fond of having a competent assistant.” Master Lecher winked at Crista before sauntering off.
The girl jumped into the air and was in Paul’s arms before he could react.
The four stayed in the arena a few minutes, clearing away their things before heading home, perhaps for the last time. Paul and Crista stopped at a few shops in town. Paul wanted a few things for his projects. Crista had no idea what that meant, but the thought of moving to a noble’s estate, living with a husband, and working for a Baron was so beyond her wildest dreams that she practically floated on air.
Paul was happy and relieved. He knew he would get a horse. So, the distance from his parents’ house to the estate wasn’t a huge problem, but the separation would hurt. He discussed the matter with his parents, and they assured him, Crista was his, so her staying with them was only natural. Now, Crista would be with him, and Paul felt good about that, but that also meant that his parents would be alone. Paul experienced a heavy ache in the pit of his stomach. When did I begin thinking of them as my parents and not caretakers?
Paul tried to recall the day it shifted in his mind. Not wanting to bring himself and then Crista down, he reminded himself that he would only be fifteen miles away, with no traffic. College kids moved longer distances from home than that, or they used to. He didn’t know if Universities were still around. He vowed to spend time in Earl's library. There was so much he needed to know about the world.
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Paul Escamilla, 16 yrs old, Squire to Earl Reinhard. formerly, Derrick Williams, US soldier. reborn as Paul. Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier, 36 yrs old Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress, 35 yrs old Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. 50 yr. Crista Escamilla. Paul's 16 year old slave/wife Alfred 16, male, Watch cadet Twin brother of Algar Algar: 16, male, Squire to Earl Reinhard. Twin brother of Alfred Parcell Chambers: 16, male Squire to Earl Reinhard. Master Fenwick Dougal: 50s, former soldier in the Kingdom army, Watch instructor. Vetch Rawls: 45, master scout of the Watch. Desert tracker. Earl Raymond Charles Reinhard: 2nd son of his Grace Duke Cedric Reinhard III. Mayor John: Mayor of Florence, Minor noble Baron Lecher: Swordmaster to Duke Reinhard III Commander Barnes: Commander of the City Watch General Yosef Alexander: Commander of Duke Reinhard's Army. Marquise Edward Hall Reinhard: Eldest son of Duke Reinhard, half-brother to Earl Raymond Reinhard |
By lancellot
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.
When Raymond arrived at his estate, the place was abuzz with activity. Raymond’s team comprised of a few guards, a historian, a surgeon, three archaeologists, two miners, and two mapmakers. The entire party was twenty men. Swordmaster Lecher wanted more, but after an all-night consultation with his squires and miners about the tunnels, they decided the smaller the group, the better. If they encountered resistance, his squires would take the place of the left behind guards. Besides, Lecher did not like the idea of leaving the estate with a skeleton crew of defenders. Edward was no fool, and his hatred of his little brother included everything Raymond cared for.
The squires arrived at the estate two days before Raymond. Paul was grateful for that as it allowed them time to settle in and learn a few things. Crista, as a female servant for Baron Lecher, would offically work under Hilda Birch, the female servants' supervisor. When the newcomers met Madam Birch, Paul worried Crista would have problems with the older woman.
Madam Birch immediately took note of their odd clothing but directed her displeasure at Crista. "Young woman, just what are those... things you have painted onto your legs and where is the rest of your dress?"
Crista wore black form-fitting tights Paul designed and a light red short summer dress with a black silk sash around her tiny waist.
She smiled at Madam Birch. "Oh, this is just a little something my briliiant husband designed for me. The Baron likes that it doesn't restrict me from performing my duties. If you would like, I can ask Squire Escamilla to design something similar for you. It will take a lot more material but I think he could still accomplish it, no matter the size."
Madam Birch spoke no more about Crista's clothing, but the way she narrowed her eyes made Paul concerned. Crista assured Paul she could handle the woman on her own.
The newcomers toured the estate once with Hilda and then again without her. Master Lecher wanted them to be as familiar with the estate as they were with their parents' home. He said, “A squire can be sent anywhere at any time by his Lord, and 'I don’t know the way’ is not an acceptable excuse. In fact, for you three, the only acceptable excuse is, you died along the way.”
The Earl’s estate consisted of three primary buildings. In the middle stood the main section. It was three floors, where the two adjoining wings were two floors. The main building's top floor was where the Earl and Swordmaster Lecher’s chambers and offices were located, plus two suites for high ranking nobles. The second floor held the library, a conference room, and more guest rooms. On the ground floor were the kitchen, laundry, dining room, stores, surgeon’s room, and Hilda’s office. A basement level held a cold room, master bathhouse, sauna, and weapons’ cache. One sub-basement could only be described as a jail and what Raymond called an interrogation room with the necessary equipment.
The left-wing connected to the main building from a corridor on the first floor; the same was for the right-wing. The left was primarily where the female servants’ quarters were. The right was the same for the guards, male servants, and squires. As no other married couple stayed at the estate, Crista was the only female in the right-wing. That was another thing that irked Hilda.
That Crista was a slave was not shared with Hilda or the other staff. Lecher felt this was no one’s business but Paul’s and ordered Parcell and Algar to keep that information to themselves. Though Crista was working like everyone else, officially, her wages went to Paul. The King's law could not be broken.
The day after the Earl arrived, the team of twenty mustered in the courtyard just before dawn. The Earl wanted them gone before any spies working for his brother discovered he was nowhere near his mother’s retreat. The Marquise was another issue Raymond and Lecher discussed with Crista and the squires. Raymond made it clear his brother was not to be trusted. Edward was the heir to the Duke and outranked Raymond, so they must behave accordingly around him, but they should not let their guards down. The Earl’s staff already knew that his whereabouts or actions were never voluntarily shared with the Marquise. If questioned, his servants were to say: I wasn’t told, my Lord, and nothing more. The only exceptions were if the Duke or the King asked them. Crista, who would be staying at the estate, was further warned as she was a slave; if the Marquise or any other noble arrived, she was to keep out of sight as she officially had no rights. The staff did not yet know she was a slave, but Florence's people did, and gossip traveled faster than light.
At dawn, Raymond addressed his team, “The plan is to enter the city’s north gate and head directly through town without stopping to the south gate, where Captain Dominic has the rest of our supplies. The Watch will see to the horses and carriages. Let’s move out.”
| Author Notes |
This is the beginning of the final act. It includes some recapping of things shown in more depth in previous chapters, just to catch readers up. It also includes characters telling things, and you may be like, why is he telling us that, it has nothing to do with what's going on. I assure you, it will later on.
Characters so far: Paul Escamilla, 16 yrs old, Squire to Earl Reinhard. formerly, Derrick Williams, US soldier. reborn as Paul. Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier, 36 yrs old Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress, 35 yrs old Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. 50 yr. Crista Escamilla. Paul's 16 year old slave/wife Alfred 16, male, Watch cadet Twin brother of Algar Algar: 16, male, Squire to Earl Reinhard. Twin brother of Alfred Parcell Chambers: 16, male Squire to Earl Reinhard. Master Fenwick Dougal: 50s, former soldier in the Kingdom army, Watch instructor. Vetch Rawls: 45, master scout of the Watch. Desert tracker. Earl Raymond Charles Reinhard: 2nd son of his Grace Duke Cedric Reinhard III. Mayor John: Mayor of Florence, Minor noble Baron Lecher: Swordmaster to Duke Reinhard III Commander Barnes: Commander of the City Watch General Yosef Alexander: Commander of Duke Reinhard's Army. Marquise Edward Hall Reinhard: Eldest son of Duke Reinhard, half-brother to Earl Raymond Reinhard |
By lancellot
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
A human being is a marvel of craftsmanship in both body and mind, be he a creation of the one God, the three gods, or an accident of nature. Most people can be afraid and nervous for only so long before their conditions become familiar and appear less threatening. Where first the eyes see dark shadows and the mind imagines venomous fangs of death ready to kill, as time goes by and nothing happens, the eyes still see shadows, but the mind now ignores them.
Things were no different for the exploration party; after four hours of jumping at shadows and odd sounds, the men slowly began to relax. Someone began to whistle, another to hum an old tune. Then one guard began to tell his partner about a juicy serving wench he met while training in the capital, and well, one good conquest story deserves another, and then another. After all, every man has one, real or imagined.
The two columns weren’t paired by rank or job. Other than the scouts, the rest sort of happened. Paul found himself paired with Raymond. This worked well as Paul was responsible for serving and protecting his master. Paul made a mental note to tell Crista that Raymond insisted on carrying his pack just like everyone else.
“So, Paul, I’ve been informed that you were chosen as Head Squire,” Raymond said after five hours of silence.
“Yes, my Lord. My friends honor me. I will not let their faith in me down, nor yours, my Lord.” Paul wasn’t sure how to speak to the Earl but hoped what he said was good enough.
“I would expect no less of Dominic and Rosetta’s son. When we return, do let them know, I regret having taken you back underground so soon after they thought they’d lost you here. Also, let them know they are more than welcome at the estate anytime they wish. The same goes for Parcell and Algar. Family is more precious than gold.”
“I will tell them, my Lord.” Paul hesitated a moment. “My Lord, may ask a question?”
“Paul, if a squire never asks his lord questions, he will never know his lord’s mind, and that makes a poor servant. You may ask.”
“My Lord, you’ve mentioned that you knew my parents before I was born. I was wondering…”
“Ha! I can happily tell you of the time I first fell in love.” The Earl smiled broadly. “It was the end of the last war with the desert tribes. I was only nine at the time, and was visiting in Florence with the then mayor, Lord Franklin who is a distant uncle on my mother’s side. Please do not think poorly of my father for placing his son in harms way. When I came to Florence, we believed that war was all but over. I was clerking in the mayor’s office when a runner burst through the door.
'My Lord, the Southgate is under attack!' he shouted with seemingly the last of his breath. His head was bleeding and his clothes were ragged.
'By the gods, no.' My uncle, grabbed his sword and ran for the door, followed by his aid. There he paused and shouted to me, 'Raymond, stay here and bar the door.'
I clearly heard his command, but I was young. I could feel my blood flowing and my heart racing. In my mind I believed adventure was within my grasp. I convinced myself that as the son of a Duke none could command me or would dare harm me. It took no more than a few seconds before I too took flight towards the gate.
I had never seen fear in the masses as I did that day. The streets were swarming with screaming women and crying children, all racing to the Northgate as if hell itself was at their heels.
Where once people parted as I approached, that day I was but a small ball bounced and jostled by a raging current. Again, I was young and small, that enabled me to dodge and sift my way through.
You may think I was mad. A boy with a death wish, but I did not believe the gate would be breached or our men could fail. It was not until reaching the wall that youthful fantasy gave way to adult reality.
It was winter, and the previous day the snow fell heavily upon the town. Where once the ground was pure white, at the gate the world was red ice and snow. I saw men fleeing their posts with arrows protruding from their bodies like pins in a cushion. I recall thinking how much does it take to kill a man. I had no way of knowing what I was seeing was merely the walking dead; men with no hope of survival. They were not running from soldiers but death itself.
The shock was too much for me and I froze in place. It was my immobility in a sea of madness that singled me out to a soldier upon the wall.
'Boy! Boy,' came a thunderous shout, somehow cutting through the screams. I looked up to see a large man pointing at me. 'A torch, lad. Bring me a torch.'
His arm shifted and my eyes naturally followed it to a barrel with unlit torches close to a fire pit. Before, my mind could register what I was doing, I had two flaming torches in my hands.
'Come. Hurry, boy. Hurry.' The man was waiving and directing my movements like I was a puppet.
I ran up the stairs, my nose burning from the smoke and ash from the torches. At the top the man, whom you may have guessed was Dominic snatched a torch from my hand and ordered me to run along the wall to a nearby cauldron. Though a spoiled noble, I was still a child and instinctively did as commanded by an adult.
The cauldron was filled with thick black oil-like mixture and it sat on the edge of the wall. I stared into its blackness mesmerized until an arrow flew past my head breaking the spell.
'Light it, lad. Light it.' Dominic was standing by an overturned cauldron and gesturing madly at me. My gaze turned to my torch and then I did what I should not have. I looked down the wall and into the faces of living men staring up at me as they climbed. I saw the color of their eyes. I heard the accent of their curses. I smelled the foulness of their bodies. 'Light it!' came another command.
I felt my arm extend and ever so carefully touch the torch to the mixture. Fire and heat instantly roared in my face and fear gripped my heart. Fear gets a lot of criticism, as it should, but fear can also spur a soul into action as it did me. I pressed my small hands against the scorching brim and pushed with all my might. Luckily, it did not take much as the cauldron was positioned to be tipped over. This time, I did not look. I could not, but I heard. Yes, I heard the sizzling of flesh and screams of men dying in unimaginable pain. The backwash of heat and steam knocked me on my ass. The rancid scent of cooked human stung my eyes shut.
When finally, I opened my tearful eyes, Dominic was at my side. 'Well done, lad, but we have no time to mourn. Save tomorrow for the dead. Today, we fight for the living.'
Throughout that day and night, I fetched arrows, torches, water and did whatever I was told. Occasionally, the fighting got so bad that I too dropped stones over the wall. I watched many men's heads explode like overripe melons. So hot was their blood and so cold, the air, that steam burst from their open skulls as if it were their souls leaving their dead bodies. Mind you, to the eyes of a boy, that is just how it appeared.
I observed much that day. I saw a commoner command as if he were the bravest of lords.” Raymond turned to Paul with a smile. “Your father saved my life several times but more than that, he taught me that the line between nobility and commoner was only an illusion. Dominic and the men he inspired fought like the knights of old. By the time reinforcements came, the remaining desert fighters had given up and retreated into the sands.”
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Paul Escamilla, 16 yrs old, Squire to Earl Reinhard. formerly, Derrick Williams, US soldier. reborn as Paul. Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier, 36 yrs old Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress, 35 yrs old Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. 50 yr. Crista Escamilla. Paul's 16 year old slave/wife Alfred 16, male, Watch cadet Twin brother of Algar Algar: 16, male, Squire to Earl Reinhard. Twin brother of Alfred Parcell Chambers: 16, male Squire to Earl Reinhard. Master Fenwick Dougal: 50s, former soldier in the Kingdom army, Watch instructor. Vetch Rawls: 45, master scout of the Watch. Desert tracker. Earl Raymond Charles Reinhard: 2nd son of his Grace Duke Cedric Reinhard III. Mayor John: Mayor of Florence, Minor noble Baron Lecher: Swordmaster to Duke Reinhard III Commander Barnes: Commander of the City Watch General Yosef Alexander: Commander of Duke Reinhard's Army. Marquise Edward Hall Reinhard: Eldest son of Duke Reinhard, half-brother to Earl Raymond Reinhard |
By lancellot
“After the battle, I secreted back to my uncle’s home and changed into fresh clothes. I learned later that Dominic had indeed known who I was, having seen me before. I begged him not to tell my father of my actions, though Dominic thought me heroic, I knew my uncle would carry the blame for my being in harm’s way. Your father kept his promise to this very day. You are the first person I’ve ever told.
Anyway, my brother and I were with my father when he thanked Dominic, and as a reward for his heroism, offered him one wish. Mind you now, my father could have given Dominic a title and land on the spot. He could made him a knight, a baron, rich, or the mayor if that was his wish.
Most men would have instantly asked for such things, but not your father. No, Dominic did not think of himself, not then nor when he held the gate. He thought only of others, and at that moment, he thought of his new bride, Rosetta.”
Raymond took a deep breath, and his eyes held a faraway gleam. “Dominic saved thousands, but he had not saved his love; not really. Rosetta had an illness known as the drowning. It is a sickness that afflicts the lungs of children. It is an evil, degenerative disease, and once acquired, most perish before adulthood.”
Paul was deathly silent, and so were the men around him. Whatever conversations they were having had long ceased as Raymond’s deep baritone echoed through the tunnel, accompanied only by the crackling of torches and weary footsteps.
“Your mother, and I mean no disrespect when I say this.” Raymond’s eyes seemed to sparkle in the torchlight. “She is a stunning woman, arguably the loveliest woman in all of Florence today.”
Paul heard a few sighs and whistles from some of the men, including Parcell.
Raymond continued, “Now, imagine what she was like when she was your age. When your father asked for the duke’s surgeon to help her, no one could blame him, even if most thought it hopeless, as none till that point, royal, noble or commoner had ever survived the drowning.”
Paul couldn’t help but interrupt, “But she seems perfectly healthy. I have never known her to have so much as a sniffle.”
“I cannot speak to her current health, but I take you at your word. But, seventeen years ago, this was not the case. Naturally, my father consented, and your mother was moved into the castle, under Chief Surgeon Vallis’ care. That is when and where I met Rosetta.
Though Dominic taught me a great deal during the battle, I was still a child, and it is not natural for a nine-year-old to see what I saw or to kill men. I often heard the screams of my victims and saw the agony on their faces whenever I closed my eyes. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat, and I would have fits of crying hysterically. Questions tormented my mind. Did they have names, wives, or children? Were they forced to be at that gate? My father did not understand my anguish, and my mother, well, the duchess, isn’t the nurturing sort.
One day I was crying in the garden when Rosetta happened upon me. I was immediately embarrassed. ‘Go away. Go back to the kitchen or wherever.’ I did not know Rosetta by sight and assumed her to be a servant. But, she did not leave. Instead, she sat bedside me. ‘Leave, or I’ll have you whipped.’
She did not say a word. This young woman grabbed me and pulled my face into her bosom. Soon, my tears returned with a vengeance, and still, she held onto me.
Never before had I felt such warmth and such gentleness. I cried for over an hour, soaking her dress, but she paid it no mind. She held me close, running her fingers through my hair and softly singing to me. Eventually, I fell asleep. When I awoke, I was in my bed. How she had the strength to carry me in her condition, I’ll never know.
In the days that followed, she would join me for breakfast, and lunch. She ate dinner with my family, but she never mentioned my problems. When the horrible images overwhelmed me, Rosetta would hold me and sing until my nightmares passed. I will never forget the song she sang:
'Never hold onto your tears.
Never run from your fears.
Let the past flow out like rain.
Let your soul release the pain.
Come to me when you weep.
Come to me and fall asleep.'
I openly confess that had she not been married, I would have begged for her hand even if I had to wait years. After Vallis cured her, I heard rumors that Edward did ask my father to annul her marriage. Doing that is wrong, but it happens. Some nobles are less honorable than others. If my brother made such a request, my father refused it. In all too brief of a time, a healthy Rosetta returned to her first love. And like that, she was out my life, and free to live happily-ever-after, or so the saying goes.”
“I’ve never heard that story,” Paul said. “My mother could have had a life as a noble lady, but I can see that she and my father belong together. At least her illness led to a cure for the drowning. That makes the story even that much better.”
Raymond shook his head. “Oh, I’m afraid it was no happily-ever-after for everyone.”
“What? But I thought you said-”
“Well, after Vallis cured Rosetta, word of his discovery spread like -- well, like a disease. Surgeon, or Doctor Vallis as he liked to be called-”
“Pardon, my lord.” Paul’s curiosity suddenly spiked. “Did you say he called himself, Doctor?”
“He did; Vallis was even more of an oddball than you, my young squire. He was a bit mad or eccentric. Vallis believed mankind's greatest times were behind us, but Vallis also believed we could reclaim some of what we’ve lost or something like that. As I said, he was a bit mad. Anyway, after he cured your mother, his name spread far and wide. As you could guess, royals and nobles from the three kingdoms all wanted him to teach his discovery to their surgeons. Well, he couldn’t be everywhere at once, so my father permitted him to travel to the Royal Surgeons Academy in Agathorn for the summer.” The earl’s shoulders slumped, and he exhaled. “While crossing the Great Divide, his caravan was struck by desert raiders. There were no survivors. Thus, we lost a great man and the cure for the drowning. To this day, your mother is the only person known to have survived it.”
After the earl’s story, silence again fell upon the group. They eventually reached the central hub. Algar pointed out the spot where the scrapper held his brother. Thankfully no other bodies were hanging. Several men carefully approached the den where the spider had slept and found it empty.
Parcell poked at what resembled a large deflated snowball with his sword. “What do you think this is or was?”
Master Rawls and Paul joined the squire for a closer look. Master Rawls sighed and then began to look around. His keen eyes lingered on every recess and shadow.
“Master Rawls, do you know what this is?” asked Parcell.
“I do. It’s an empty egg sac.”
Algar walked up and looked down at it. “So, the scrapper had a baby.” He raised his head. "You don’t think that is why it didn’t kill Alfred. That it was -- it was-”
“Keeping him alive to feed its babies, probably dozens of them, gauging by the size of this thing,” Raymond added, having joined the group. “That means it probably took them out to forage for food.” He looked at his master scout. “How long ago would you say they hatched?”
Rawls squatted down and touched the dark hole with his bare hand. “I’d say about three weeks.”
“So, how… how big would they be now?” Parcell asked, looking around at all the men now surrounding him.
Rawls stood up and kicked the empty sac over. “Big enough to kill one man and be killed by one man.”
Raymond walked to his two mapmakers as they squatted, scribing. “How long do you need?”
The older of the two, whose name was Ned, answered. “Thirty-minutes, my lord.”
Raymond nodded and looked at his men. “Thirty-minutes rest, and then we leave.” He pointed to the squires and the guards. “I want men at each entrance. Switch up in fifteen, so you all get a drink and relieve yourselves.”
Paul and Algar walked to one of the entrances and began their watch. Though Paul’s eyes stared into the darkness, many questions filled his mind. Raymond's story had ignited a firestorm within him. He wanted desperately to speak with his parents. He wanted to know so much, but what put a smile on his face was his father’s great love for his mother. He turned down a genie’s wish for a woman. Could I do that? Do I love Crista that much? Do I love her at all? Yes, I do. Damn, I don’t think I’ve ever told her that. I wonder if she knows. Of course, she does. Doesn't she?
“You look like a man with too much on his mind.” Algar sat on the ground with his back to the wall. “I’ll let you think while I nap. Wake me in fifteen.” No sooner had his eyes closed then the rumbling of snoring began.
Paul looked around and noticed that half of the men were doing as Algar, while the others watched the tunnel openings. He leaned against the wall and stared into the dark tunnel with a grin on his face. Unlike the last time, there is no way a spider could sneak up on us. We have every direction covered, north, south, east, and west. Even Spider-ma-
Paul’s eyes grew large as a veil of horror fell over his mind. “We don’t have every direction covered.” His head slowly turned upward, and his eyes struggled to see into the vast gloom above his head, when suddenly he saw hundreds of descending red eyes staring back at him.
| Author Notes |
You may note that I use only one set of quotation marks when Raymond speaks in long paragraphs. This is not modern method but I find it more clean and orderly this way as it seems to avoid confusion with the average reader.
Characters so far: Paul Escamilla, 16 yrs old, Squire to Earl Reinhard. formerly, Derrick Williams, US soldier. reborn as Paul. Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier, 36 yrs old Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress, 35 yrs old Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. 50 yr. Crista Escamilla. Paul's 16 year old slave/wife Alfred 16, male, Watch cadet Twin brother of Algar Algar: 16, male, Squire to Earl Reinhard. Twin brother of Alfred Parcell Chambers: 16, male Squire to Earl Reinhard. Master Fenwick Dougal: 50s, former soldier in the Kingdom army, Watch instructor. Vetch Rawls: 45, master scout of the Watch. Desert tracker. Earl Raymond Charles Reinhard: 2nd son of his Grace Duke Cedric Reinhard III. Mayor John: Mayor of Florence, Minor noble Baron Lecher: Swordmaster to Duke Reinhard III Commander Barnes: Commander of the City Watch General Yosef Alexander: Commander of Duke Reinhard's Army. Marquise Edward Hall Reinhard: Eldest son of Duke Reinhard, half-brother to Earl Raymond Reinhard |
By lancellot
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Crista paced back and forth in front of her rather large bedroom window and empty bed. With Paul away, she had too much energy to dispense with on her own, and not only that, she couldn’t shake the feeling her man was in danger. With Sword Master Lecher also gone, she had very little to do during the day, which led to her having even more energy. Twice, she tried to please herself like she used to before meeting Paul, but that was long ago. Crista discovered that she had grown too accustomed to having something larger than her fingers.
Her hungry eyes scanned the bedroom for a suitable replacement. She briefly picked up an ornate candle holder before coming to her senses. It was too sharp and oddly shaped. The last thing she need was to visit the surgeon in the middle of the night. The thought of being the subject of a scandal in the morning made her shiver. What would she tell Paul?
She glanced out of the window. The night appeared warm, the grass was lush and green under a sky full of stars. Her mind went back to a night she and Paul slept outside and the strange way he talked.
“I like the stars here,” Paul said while holding her close. “The air is so clean, and without all the city lights, you can see every star, but I do miss the Moon.”
“What’s the Moon?” Crista asked, half-listening to his words and half-listening to the beat of his heart.
Paul sighed. “That’s hard to explain. Earth has a natural satellite that orbits it; we call it the Moon. It is about one sixteenth the size of Earth. At night it reflects sunlight and shines bright white. This world doesn’t have a moon. Perhaps, that’s why there’s so little wind. There’s barely enough to fly a kite.”
Crista didn’t understand what he was talking about and decided she preferred the sound of his heartbeat.
She turned away from the window and the past. “Perhaps a walk is what I need.”
With Raymond and his party gone, the estate was quiet and peaceful at night. Crista slipped on her tights, robe, and protection. She looked at the clock, and a smile formed on her face. “Maybe, I will have some company?”
On her way out, she stopped in the kitchen and waited. She did not need to wait long.
Gliding into the kitchen with one of those dangerous candles in hand was Pam, an assistant cook. Crista had befriended the young blonde minutes after they met. Pam was also sixteen and was once a slave from the Kingdom of Agathorn.
“Oh my,” said Pam holding her candle in front of Crista. “Are those the tights you were telling me about?” She bent down to get a closer look at Crista’s legs. “They are so…so clingy.”
Crista smiled a gave Pam a little twirl so she could see the tights from all sides. “Yes, they do hug my body, but I like that. I sometimes forget I have them on.”
Pam lifted her dress and looked at her pale hairy legs. “I sometimes wish I had something to cover these furry beasts. Do you think squire Paul could fashion one for me? I would pay, of course.”
“Oh, Paul didn’t make them; his mother did, but I think I can make another. I will start tomorrow.”
The ladies grabbed some sweetbread and light wine before walking into the night. They paused at the door for a few minutes and allowed their eyes to adjust to the darkness.
“I wonder if Hilda will allow us to wear tights while on duty. She is very strict,” Pam said as the two began walking around the building.
“Maybe not while you’re on duty, but when you’re not, I don’t think Hilda would mind. She has seen me in them and hasn’t said anything more since the first time.”
“Yes, but you have Baron Lecher on your side. I’ve heard those two do not speak. There were rumors that years ago, they were a couple.”
The two walked to a bench under a large oak tree and sat down. The night was warm, and the breeze was light, so they stretched their legs and enjoyed the air.
Crista kicked off her slippers. “A baron and a servent becoming a couple. I cannot believe it.”
“Normally, neither would I, but the earl is not like other nobles. When he speaks to me, I sometimes forget what he is and what I am. Once, while bathing, he --” Pam shook her head and grinned.
Crista nudged the taller girl. “What? What do you mean while bathing? Come on; you can’t stop there.”
Pam’s blue eyes shone like glowing sapphires. “Well, it was two months ago. The plumbers were working on the water pipes in the servants’ wing, so we were allowed to use the master bath downstairs. I think Raymond, I mean, my lord must have forgotten. I was alone in the bath when he suddenly walked in.” Pam covered her mouth with her hands, stood, and twirled around. “He was naked, and so was I. We were both shocked and froze, not moving a single inch, like living statues as we stared at each other.”
Crista grabbed Pam’s hand and pulled the happy girl down to sit on the bench again. “Keep going. I need this. By the gods, I need this.”
“Well, when I said he didn’t move a single inch, that was partially true. As we looked at each other, his manhood grew several inches. I mean, I've seen bigger, but never a noble’s pride. And, it rose tall and thick. But what kept me up at nights and made me blush every time I saw my lord since then, is the fact that it rose for me.” Pam turned to Crista. “Sometimes, when I see him, he blushes and looks away. But, always, I swear, he is smiling.”
Crista wrapped her arm around her small bosom. “Oh, do you think, now that he has witnessed all of you, he secretly desires to take you and make passionate love to you for hours and hours on end, pounding into you with crazy animal lust, until you beg for mercy or your body goes numb?”
"What?" Pam cocked her head and stared at her new friend. “Well, maybe we'll do it for a good ten, if we go slow, but after twenty I just want to sleep or cuddle. It doesn't really matter, no man can go for hours and hours.”
Crista quickly looked around into the near darkness. “Do you want to know a secret?” She leaned closer to Pam and whispered in her ear.
No more than fifty yards away, one of the earl’s guards stood just behind a tree watching the ladies. His eyes grew large when Pam twirled, and her dress rose above her smooth, youthful thighs. “Damn!”
“She’s nice, isn’t she?”
The guard’s hand instantly went for his sword before immediately diverting to the cord around his neck. His nails broke as fingers dug into his bleeding flesh in a desperate attempt to get under what was cutting into his larynx and slicing open his throat. His heels repeatedly slipped and slid on the wet grass as his dimming vision focused on a small garden spider upon the tree.
As the guard’s soul transferred to another place, just for an impossible instant, he thought he saw a smile beneath the many red eyes of the spider.
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Paul Escamilla, 16 yrs old, Squire to Earl Reinhard. formerly, Derrick Williams, US soldier. reborn as Paul. Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier, 36 yrs old Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress, 35 yrs old Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. 50 yr. Crista Escamilla. Paul's 16 year old slave/wife Alfred 16, male, Watch cadet Twin brother of Algar Algar: 16, male, Squire to Earl Reinhard. Twin brother of Alfred Parcell Chambers: 16, male Squire to Earl Reinhard. Master Fenwick Dougal: 50s, former soldier in the Kingdom army, Watch instructor. Vetch Rawls: 45, master scout of the Watch. Desert tracker. Earl Raymond Charles Reinhard: 2nd son of his Grace Duke Cedric Reinhard III. Mayor John: Mayor of Florence, Minor noble Baron Lecher: Swordmaster to Duke Reinhard III Commander Barnes: Commander of the City Watch General Yosef Alexander: Commander of Duke Reinhard's Army. Marquise Edward Hall Reinhard: Eldest son of Duke Reinhard, half-brother to Earl Raymond Reinhard Pam Wright: Servant in Earl Raymond Reinhard's estate, and Crista's friend Madam Hilda Birch: Supervisor of female servants in Earl Reinhard's estate |
By lancellot
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Last chapter:
No more than fifty yards away, one of the earl’s guards stood just behind a tree watching the ladies. His eyes grew large when Pam twirled, and her dress rose above her smooth, youthful thighs. “Damn!”
“She’s nice, isn’t she?”
The guard’s hand instantly went for his sword before immediately diverting to the cord around his neck. His nails broke as fingers dug into his bleeding flesh in a desperate attempt to get under what was cutting into his larynx and slicing open his throat. His heels repeatedly slipped and slid on the wet grass as his dimming vision focused on a small garden spider upon the tree.
As the guard’s soul transferred to another place, just for an impossible instant, he thought he saw a smile beneath the many red eyes of the spider.
Today's post:
Pam shook her head. “No, I don’t believe you. First, you’re a married woman, and married women seldom sleep with their husbands. I know my mother rarely did. It’s a miracle I was born.”
Crista cocked her head to the side. “I’m not officially married yet. Paul doesn’t talk about it. I mean, I guess it doesn’t matter, but…”
“But it bothers you that he’s not in a hurry to do it.” Pam bumped her shoulder against Crista. “I bet he’s just waiting until he gets back and you two settle in. He hasn’t been a squire that long.”
“Yes, I know but, it’s not just that. I mean, I love Paul. I think I fell in love with him the day he took my weight, and it’s only gotten deeper since then. It’s just that…well…”
“Well, what?”
“It’s just that, and I’m not complaining. Paul is the most amazing man I’ve ever known. The things he does, the things he’s shown me, and the simple fact that--” She stretched her arms out and turned her head around. “Look where I am. I’m a slave, betrothed to an Earl’s squire, working for a Baron and living in a magnificent estate. I have a sex life no other woman could imagine.”
“Oh, I can imagine a lot.”
Crista went on, “I can read and write now. My man never looks at me with anger or raises his voice. There is gold in my room, and I have nothing I need to buy. But…”
“But what!” Pam grabbed the smaller woman’s shoulders and gave her a shake.
“He has never said, 'I love you'." A single tear fell from her eye and rolled down her elf-like face. “What if he doesn’t?”
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” a deep voice answered.
Crista and Pam both turned their heads at the same moment. They stared in horror at two men dressed in black and carrying a dagger in their hands.
“Oh, my dears, you two have much bigger problems than love, but if you are quiet and tell us what we want to know, I promise you will live through this night and grow into old gossiping hags that no one wants.”
Crista and Pam shot up with their backs to the estate and the two intruders in front of them, with only the small metal bench between them. Pam’s lips quivered, and her chest expanded.
One of the men quickly brought a finger to his lips and extended his dagger. “Ah, ah, ah.” He waved his blade from side to side. “Judge the distance. The guards will not make it in time to save either of you or catch us.”
Crista’s eyes widened as a third man carrying a short sword emerged from the shadows and stood behind the first two. She looked into each man’s eyes and saw nothing remotely like a soul within them. “What do you want?”
“Well,” answered the talker as he let his gaze flow over the ladies’ bodies.
Pam grabbed the opening above her bosom and closed it.
Crista grabbed her robe, but she let one of her hands slip inside and grasped the cool metal cylinder hidden within. “You didn’t come all the way here for that.”
The talker nodded. “You’ve got spunk, little one. I like that, and you’re right we didn’t come for what you have. Earl Reinhard, is he inside?”
“No, he’s gone to Duchess--” Pam began.
“Don’t,” the talker pointed his blade at Pam. “Do not lie to me. I’m not too fond of that. A woman’s mouth has many wonderful purposes, and lying is not one of them.”
“Earl Reinhard is not here. We don’t know where he is right now,” Crista said, staring the man directly in the eyes. It was true; she didn’t know exactly where Raymond's team was at that moment.
The talker returned Crista’s stare. “I believe you.”
Pam sighed.
“Unfortunately, if he is not here, we've been paid to leave him a message,” said the talker; he nodded to one of his companions.
The talker and one of the intruders began to circle the bench towards the ladies.
Crista pulled a four-foot metal pole from her robe and pointed at the talker.
The talker smiled. “Oh, look, the little one has a stick.” He walked up to Crista and placed his chest against the opened end of the pole. “You know, I was only going to kill you. Now, I think I’ll use this pole on you after I use my own, of course.”
The talker grabbed the end of the pole. “Now what?”
Crista glared at the man. “Die.” She twisted the pole, and a sharpened point stabbed into the man’s chest a half-second before the spear fully extended and shot through the talker’s body.
Everyone froze as the talker dropped his dagger. He had a look of utter confusion and disbelief on his face as he looked down at the spear going through him. He then looked at Crista, opened his mouth, and then fell back and off the spear.
When the talker hit the ground, Pam let out the scream she’d been holding in.
The intruder closest to Pam lunged at the girl with his dagger, just as Crista grabbed her friend’s collar and yanked her back. The blade mostly missed but managed to slice through Pam’s dress and nick the soft skin of her ample breasts.
Pam fell to the ground on her back. When she saw her white dress turn pink, she let out an even louder scream.
Lights in the windows of the guard’s barracks and the women’s wing came on. The sound of dogs barking echoed through the estate, and Pam kept right on screaming.
Pam’s attacker ran towards the woman, only to be confronted by the blood-soaked end of Crista’s spear. The man swung, parried, and stabbed at Crista, but the length of her spear was too great for him to overcome, and after seeing his partner die, he was overly cautious.
“Let’s go,” yelled the other man before he turned and ran into the darkness.
From the house, men and dogs came running in multiple lines of fiery torches and shining steel.
The intruder fighting Crista glanced at the oncoming guards and dogs. “Damn you, bitch. You killed my brother; I’ll be back for you.” He stopped attacking and turned to run.
But Crista did not stop. She heard what the intruder said, and her mind instantly went back to the alley where Paul killed Joqumoe and what her former owner said before Paul killed him.
When she saw the man’s back, she hefted the spear in one hand and threw it at with all her might. Crista had only thrown a spear a few times with Paul, but she gave it all she had. She aimed at the man’s back, with the hopes skewering a heart she didn’t think he had. Instead, the spear sailed right through his moving legs, and planted itself into the ground. Unfortunately, it was too dark for the assassin to see the spear, and his legs hit it, causing him to fall flat on his face.
“Damn!” The unlucky man began to pick himself off the ground, only to crash back down when one hundred and two pounds of screaming woman landed on top of him. “Get off, get off, you little bitch!”
The bad night for the intruders got worse, as Crista only weighed a hundred pounds. The extra two pounds were from the dagger the man’s dead brother dropped.
“I believe you. I believe you,” Crista screamed, while repeatedly stabbing the man in his back, neck, and head.
Crista was still screaming and still stabbing when the guards found and surrounded her. They stood silent for several minutes, not daring to interfere with the blood soaked, hysterical girl until her screams turned to sobs and she stopped hacking into the long dead body.
Hilda escorted Crista and Pam inside the mansion as the guards searched the grounds.
They never found the last assassin, and he never told anyone of what transpired that night.
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Paul Escamilla, 16 yrs old, Squire to Earl Reinhard. formerly, Derrick Williams, US soldier. reborn as Paul. Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier, 36 yrs old Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress, 35 yrs old Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. 50 yr. Crista Escamilla. Paul's 16 year old slave/wife Alfred 16, male, Watch cadet Twin brother of Algar Algar: 16, male, Squire to Earl Reinhard. Twin brother of Alfred Parcell Chambers: 16, male Squire to Earl Reinhard. Master Fenwick Dougal: 50s, former soldier in the Kingdom army, Watch instructor. Vetch Rawls: 45, master scout of the Watch. Desert tracker. Earl Raymond Charles Reinhard: 2nd son of his Grace Duke Cedric Reinhard III. Mayor John: Mayor of Florence, Minor noble Baron Lecher: Swordmaster to Duke Reinhard III Commander Barnes: Commander of the City Watch General Yosef Alexander: Commander of Duke Reinhard's Army. Marquise Edward Hall Reinhard: Eldest son of Duke Reinhard, half-brother to Earl Raymond Reinhard Pam Wright: Servant in Earl Raymond Reinhard's estate, and Crista's friend Madam Hilda Birch: Supervisor of female servants in Earl Reinhard's estate |
By lancellot
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Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
General Alexander didn’t like waiting. He wanted to charge his men into the canyon and root out the tribesmen he knew were hiding inside, but he was no fool. Leading troops into a box canyon was a slaughter waiting to happen. The four scouts he sent had yet to return, and the marquise had sent word by raven for him to wait until his arrival before sending more men in.
Alexander also didn’t like his command decisions questioned by the nobility. In chambers alone or at the council, he expected it. Few nobles knew when to hold their tongues when speaking about things they knew nothing about. The marquise was a young man in his mid-thirties, but Alexander respected the duke’s son. Edward had accompanied the general on more than a few campaigns, and the general personally witnessed Edward hold his own in the heat of battle where other nobles would have turned tail and run. So, Edward had earned Alexander’s respect, but for a higher ranking noble, technically under his command to give him an order in the field, was almost a bridge too far. Almost, and that was the problem. Alexander hated politics like a fish hated -- well, the desert he was currently stuck in.
His aide, Colonel Samuel Reed, stepped into the command tent. “General, the marquise has arrived.”
“Very good, Colonel, see… the captain in and then, see that we are not disturbed.”
Colonel paused for only a moment. “Yes, General.” Colonel Reed knew then that no one was permitted within earshot of the command tent. The general was not pleased, and the marquise, rather the captain, would hear about it.
General Alexander took a seat at the planning table. Spread out on that table was a miniature replica of the Great Divide's southern section, including the canyon that lay before his troops. Beyond the canyon was sand, more sand, and finally the ocean.
Marquise Reinhard swept into the tent unescorted. Alexander was momentarily annoyed, but then he remembered his order to his aide. The colonel was a good man and anticipated his needs as if he lived in the general’s head. The general briefly wished the colonel was his 2nd instead of the marquise, but the hand of politics dug its sticky fingers into everything.
“Captain,” the general decided to assume a semi-neutral tone. “Would you like to explain why my advance team isn’t knee-deep in tribal blood right now?”
“Yes, General.” Edward reached into his robe, pulled out a wax-sealed scroll, and extended it. “From my father. I think this will explain everything.”
General Alexander’s stomach turned as he looked at the ducal signet in the wax. With growing disgust, he broke the seal and unrolled the scroll. With each line, Alexander hated politics and nobility more and more. There was no surprise in his mind when he dropped the scroll over his now pointless war-map. He turned his weary eyes up to Edward. He was half-expecting a smile but then thought better of it. The marquise was devious, ill-tempered at times, especially in matters concerning his brother, but the man was too intelligent to allow petty emotions to show. “I assume you've already formed a negotiating team, and a contingency plan, should this…” He sighed. “Should this action fail?”
Marquise Reinhard looked at his new subordinate. “Should this negotiation fail, and I join my mother in the afterlife, I expect you to kill every last tribesman you see and turn this wretched sand red with their blood.”
The general stood and saluted. “Rest assured, my Lord. If you should die, you will not be alone because I’m coming with you.”
Edward opened his mouth and then closed it. He slowly shook his head. “General, you are needed here.”
General Alexander waived him off. “I have always wanted to ride into battle serving a noble I respected before I retire. I shall not allow my friend's son and heir to face danger alone.”
Edward nodded his head. “I guess, I have no way of stopping you. Very well, we leave within the hour.”
General Alexander, Marquise Reinhard, and a company consisting of two diplomatic aides and five soldiers silently rode their horses into the canyon. Old habits die hard, and the general, despite Edward’s assurances, kept his hand on his sword and his eyes scanning the canyon walls. A veteran of three wars and countless battles, the general knew the scant precautions he was taking were useless. His only saving grace was the thought of Colonel Reed leading his army into the canyon and getting bloody vengeance. The thought of the tribesmen on their knees begging for a mercy they’d never get from Reed put a smile on his face.
“Feeling better now about our mission, General?" Edward asked, seeing Alexander’s smile.
“Yes, my lord,” the general lied. If the marquise wanted to believe he had his confidence, then so be it. Nobles often drew strength from others' faith, even if they would never admit it, he thought.
Soon, one by one, desert soldiers began to seemingly detach themselves from the canyon walls and walk with the marquise’s group. No one was surprised by this. They knew their party would be escorted to the meeting with the tribal leaders.
By the time General Alexander spotted the enemy camp, they were a mile deep into the canyon and surrounded by forty men. The General had stopped thinking of them as soldiers because of their lack of uniformity or discernable rank.
The camp was of modest size with multiple tents, cooking areas, and to Alexander’s surprise, women and children were everywhere. He had heard stories of desert women being just as dangerous as their men, but to see them a mere three or four miles away from his army going about daily life as if they were not about to die was unnerving. Didn’t they know a war was going on, that death was a mere hour away? Alexander wanted to ask about this, but they were on a diplomatic mission, and Edward was in command. Having forced his and a few guards onto the party, the last thing a military man like he would do was break the chain of command and disrespect his commander.
They soon arrived at a large command tent in the middle of the camp. The general had the remaining men stand guard outside while he accompanied Edward and his aides inside.
A lone woman brought drinks and food. She said only, “He who is all wishes you wait here.”
General Alexander watched the woman. He couldn’t help admiring the woman’s exotic beauty. She was of average height for a woman, but her long ebony hair, flawless olive skin, muscular thighs, and dark brown eyes with a slight slant to them were unlike any woman he’d ever seen. Though his travels were extensive, he could not place the woman’s possible origins. The only thing he knew was that her physical perfection matched her facial beauty. She walked with power and grace as if she could burst into a full sprint at a moment’s notice without effort or lie down with the sole goal of providing pleasures undreamt of.
Alexander looked at the two aides who were gazing wantonly as the woman exited the tent.
“Yes.” Edward grinned. “Even women are as fit as the most capable warrior yet possess the beauty of a rare ocean pearl. If one dared the Sea People’s wrath in obtaining one.”
“Agreed, my lord,” Alexander replied. “The women here are as…. different as the Sea People are dangerous. As a lad, I saw them swarm a fisherman’s boat that had strayed across their border. They gave no quarter, accepted no explanation, and showed no mercy. It is the reason I joined the army and not the navy.”
General Alexander took a deep breath and shook off the unpleasant memory. He did not drink or eat the food the woman brought. He was on guard duty, after all. He turned to the diplomats. “I would hold off on eating anything.”
The men both drank and ate the refreshments. “General, if they wanted to kill us, they've had ample opportunity to do so. Enticing us with a beautiful woman and poisoning us would simply be…” He turned to the other diplomat. “What’s the word I’m looking for, James?”
“Merciful,” answered Edward, as he stood and walked behind the one desk in the room and took a seat.
James, the other diplomat, pointed at Edward. “Now see here, your Grace.” He coughed into his hand before regaining his composure. “I beg your pardon. I think sitting in that seat may be…” James started coughing again.
General Alexander stared at the man, who was turning purple. He turned to the other diplomat who had his hands around his purple-colored neck. Within seconds both men were on the floor gagging, struggling for breath and clawing at the skin of throats as if they intended to rip open a hole to breathe through.
When both diplomats finally stopped twitching, Edward leaned forward with his arms on the desk. “Well, that was more painful than I expected.”
General Alexander's hand moved swiftly to his sword.
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Paul Escamilla, 16 yrs old, Squire to Earl Reinhard. formerly, Derrick Williams, US soldier. reborn as Paul. Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier, 36 yrs old Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress, 35 yrs old Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. 50 yr. Crista Escamilla. Paul's 16 year old slave/wife Alfred 16, male, Watch cadet Twin brother of Algar Algar: 16, male, Squire to Earl Reinhard. Twin brother of Alfred Parcell Chambers: 16, male Squire to Earl Reinhard. Master Fenwick Dougal: 50s, former soldier in the Kingdom army, Watch instructor. Vetch Rawls: 45, master scout of the Watch. Desert tracker. Earl Raymond Charles Reinhard: 2nd son of his Grace Duke Cedric Reinhard III. Mayor John: Mayor of Florence, Minor noble Baron Lecher: Swordmaster to Duke Reinhard III Commander Barnes: Commander of the City Watch General Yosef Alexander: Commander of Duke Reinhard's Army. Marquise Edward Hall Reinhard: Eldest son of Duke Reinhard, half-brother to Earl Raymond Reinhard Pam Wright: Servant in Earl Raymond Reinhard's estate, and Crista's friend Madam Hilda Birch: Supervisor of female servants in Earl Reinhard's estate |
By lancellot
The flap on the entrance of the tent opened, and six armed men entered the tent. Two took up stations on either side of Edward, clearly guarding him, while four men surrounded General Alexander. The general knew they were guarding him for a different purpose than Edward and moved his hand away from his sword.
The flap opened again, and two women entered. The first was the same woman from before; she quickly collected and carried out the poisoned items. The second, an equally stunning woman, brought in fresh food and drink. She set the food before Edward and poured him what appeared to be water into a golden goblet.
General Alexander watched Edward eat and refresh himself. Alexander wasn’t offered anything, but then he wouldn’t have taken it if it was. Finally, the general decided to get what was evident out of the way. “I take it my men are dead?” he asked, trying to control the rage boiling inside.
Edward put down a chicken wing he was savoring and then slowly wiped his hands on a warm towel. He stared at the general for a few seconds. “Yes, General, it was necessary to kill the scouts and the guards that came with us.”
The general found the answer puzzling. “And those not killed, my Lord?”
Edward raised a hand. The four men guarding the general each removed the dust-scarves covering their faces.
General Alexander looked at each man, then lowered his head. His right hand clenched several times but did not reach for his sword. “I see.” In a much lower tone, he added, “I take it, for me, the war is over?”
Edward smiled and spread his arms wide. “What war?”
The veteran soldier stared coldly at Edward’s smiling face as the full impact of his words penetrated his mind. This time he did reach for his sword and much faster than the men around him could react to. His blade was inches from the closest guard’s throat when a golden pitcher slammed into Alexander’s face. The pitcher was thrown with such force that the general’s nose exploded in a spray of blood as his eyes involuntarily shut and his knees buckled. The general felt rough hands rip his sword from his grasp and force him to his chair. Alexander struggled briefly until another powerful blow to his broken nose rendered him unconscious.
***
Colonel Reed sat at the General’s desk reading inventory reports when two runners arrived.
“A message from the marquise, Colonel,” one of the soldiers stated.
“Well, bring it over, man.” Colonel Reed took the scroll, broke the wax seal, and began reading the letter. “Your services are no longer needed. Signed Desert King.” He turned his eyes to the soldier. “What--”
Colonel Reed never saw the second soldier bring his short sword down on the back of his head, splitting his skull in two.
“Wait,” the first soldier cried too late. “We were supposed to cut his head off and bring it back.”
The second soldier pulled his sword out of Reed’s neck and then shrugged. “Then get to cutting.”
The first soldier sighed, pulled his dagger, grabbed a handful of wet and slippery hair on half of Reed’s head, and began sawing through his neck.
***
The general awoke to the savory scent of broiled meat, the cheerful sounds of men and women laughing and loving, and the feel of cool desert air blowing across his stinging swollen nose. It only took a moment for him to notice he was unable to move. He dipped his head down, and a wave of dizziness clouded his mind, but he did not lose consciousness. He closed his eyes and took several slow deep breaths. Though still dazed, he opened his eyes and visually inspected the numerous ropes tying him to his chair.
“Ah, you’re awake. That’s good. For a moment, I thought Sabina killed you. She can be a bit overprotective.”
General Alexander instantly recognized the voice, though the man dressed in tan silk desert robes and turban looked nothing like Marquise Edward Reinhard.
General Alexander was a man known for his strategy and tactics in battle. Though bound tight in a windowless tent, he could still gage the emptiness of his stomach, the tightness of his muscles, and the coolness of the night to decipher he had been asleep for five to six hours. He had left explicit orders with Colonel Reed that if he had not heard from him in four hours to attack with everything he had. With luck, my men were already scaling the canyon walls to kill the archers hiding there. All I need do is stall until the troops come. The general held back a grin as his thoughts turned to Edward’s head on a pike. “Tell me, Edward. What did the leaders of the desert people promise you?” The general tested the bonds on his wrists with his fingers. “It cannot be money or women. Though I admit, the women here are -- unique.”
Edward smiled, raised one jeweled finger, and began waving it from side to side. “Now, now, my good general. There is no need for you to attempt to stall. Help is not coming. In fact.” Edward picked up a small bell and shook it. Instantly guards entered the tent. Edward rose from his seat and walked towards Alexander.
“Gentlemen,” he said to the guards. “Please turn our guest around. There is something I want him to see.”
The guards lifted and turned Alexander to face the exit. Then they both walked to the opening and pulled aside the flaps.
General Alexander’s eyes welled with tears, and his lips trembled with emotions his mind could not decipher.
Edward placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned down to the man’s ear. “Your army, or should I say, my army is already here. Don’t you see, General? The leader of these people did not promise me anything. I am their leader. Now, thanks to you and my soon to be deposed father, I have an army three times the size of any other desert tribe. Now, I truly am the Desert King."
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Paul Escamilla, 16 yrs old, Squire to Earl Reinhard. formerly, Derrick Williams, US soldier. reborn as Paul. Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier, 36 yrs old Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress, 35 yrs old Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. 50 yr. Crista Escamilla. Paul's 16 year old slave/wife Alfred 16, male, Watch cadet Twin brother of Algar Algar: 16, male, Squire to Earl Reinhard. Twin brother of Alfred Parcell Chambers: 16, male Squire to Earl Reinhard. Master Fenwick Dougal: 50s, former soldier in the Kingdom army, Watch instructor. Vetch Rawls: 45, master scout of the Watch. Desert tracker. Earl Raymond Charles Reinhard: 2nd son of his Grace Duke Cedric Reinhard III. Mayor John: Mayor of Florence, Minor noble Baron Lecher: Swordmaster to Duke Reinhard III Commander Barnes: Commander of the City Watch General Yosef Alexander: Commander of Duke Reinhard's Army. Marquise Edward Hall Reinhard: Eldest son of Duke Reinhard, half-brother to Earl Raymond Reinhard Pam Wright: Servant in Earl Raymond Reinhard's estate, and Crista's friend Madam Hilda Birch: Supervisor of female servants in Earl Reinhard's estate Surgeon Nevin Vallis: Scientist, doctor, advisor to the Desert King. |
By lancellot
Edward stood, walked to the opening, and held out his hands.
Seeing him, a thunderous cheer went out from the men and women reveling in the camp.
“Why?” whispered Alexander. He turned his head to Edward. “Why would you do this? You are heir to the Duke. You would have had--”
“Why!” Edward roared as rage boiled in his eyes. “Why, oh, there are so many reasons why that man will--” Edward slowly exhaled and then composed himself once again. He nodded to the guards who closed the flaps and then turned the general’s chair back around. Edward smoothed out the invisible wrinkles in his robes that only he saw, then he returned to his seat.
“I hold no animosity towards you, General. You are not noble-born, and I honestly find you to be an honorable man. That you’ve served my father is something you are not responsible for, a soldier does not choose his commander. Plus, you have always treated me with respect and loyalty.” Edward sighed and drummed his fingers on the desk before him. “I will give you a choice. I think you’ve earned that. Now that I have my army, I will unite the five desert tribes of the Great Divide into one Kingdom, under me. Why settle for a Dukedom when you can be a King? It is only logical.”
The general was half listening. His head had finally cleared, and his mind was calculating all the possibilities at hand. He was alone behind enemy lines and miles away from home, with a hostile army and an even more dangerous environment between him and safety. To add insult to injury, it was clear to him the former marquise was insane. But, insanity or not, Edward was not stupid and was not to be underestimated. That crime had already cost him his army and perhaps his life. He noticed Edward’s lips moving again.
“After I have my Kingdom, I may or may not march into Valeria. Believe it or not, General. I have no hatred for my former Kingdom despite its decaying nobility. If they leave us in peace and naturally pay homage to cross my lands, I would consider peace negotiations.”
Having seen how the last negotiation went, the general knew what Edward meant. “I see, your majesty, and may I ask, just what is this choice you have for me?”
Edward shook his head. “My apologies. I tend to ramble a bit. It is very simple, one cannot be a King and an effective general simultaneously, and since your Colonel Reed met with an unfortunate accident. I need a man with your unique skills. Lead and train my armies, and you shall live in a Kingdom where you are truly equal no matter the status of your birth or the gold in your purse.”
“I see, and I assume my other option is death?”
The general watched Edward stare at him in silence. He was no fool, and he knew neither was Edward. Even if he agreed to serve, there was little chance the so-called Desert King would ever fully trust him, least not with an army in his pocket. If every soldier swore allegiance to Edward, how long would that last? The man leading them would not be Edward, the man saving their lives would not be Edward, the man feeding them, inspiring them, training them, claiming their hearts and trust through fire and blood would not be some far-removed King. A man sleeping in a grand tent with dozens of beautiful women and drinking from golden goblets while the soldiers tramp through burning sands would only inspire envy, jealousy, and soon contempt, and who would be there to serve as a beacon of hope, General Alexander.
Edward’s fingers suddenly stopped drumming. He picked up his bell and rang it again. “On second thought, my dear general, your services would come at too high of a price.”
Alexander grinned. He was not surprised and a bit proud. Alexander had a hand in Edward’s training. He would have been disappointed if the young man didn’t see the folly of thinking a traitor of his stature could ever be trusted with power.
As the two guards entered the tent, Alexander prepared himself. “Every soldier knows that life is a war we are all destined to lose. I am ready.”
One of the guards reached for his sword.
“No!” Edward raised a hand. “Not like that. Not for him. I promised you a choice, General.” He turned to the guards. “Take him into the deep. There cut him loose, remove his clothing and leave him as he was when he entered this world. The desert will choose his fate.”
A man with his face covered and long white hair spilling out of his turban entered. He slowly approached Edward and whispered into his ear. A look of anger flashed across Edward’s face before he concealed it.
“I should have known he would not have the decency to die at home, in bed like a good little brother. Very well, perhaps this too is destiny." He looked at the man. "I trust you have studied the plans of Raymond's little exploration?” Edward rose without wating for an answer. “Ah, forgive my rudeness, General. I do believe you know my advisor.”
The man removed his face covering and smiled at the general. “Yosef, it is good to see you. It has been a while, my old friend.”
The general stared in confusion for just a moment before his eyes went wide. “Nevin…but… you’re alive… how?”
“Oh, that’s a long story.” Formerly thought deceased, Surgeon Nevin Vallis walked up to his old friend and gave him a quick but awkward hug. “I tended your nose while you were out. Fear not, the lovely Sabina did not break it. Most men only see her softer side; very sensual that one. Few men survive after witnessing her wrath. You were lucky. I hope that luck holds."
Edward and Vallis began to leave. At the opening, Edward paused. “Goodbye, General; should we meet on the other side, do not think unkindly of me. I do, what I must.”
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Paul Escamilla, 16 yrs old, Squire to Earl Reinhard. formerly, Derrick Williams, US soldier. reborn as Paul. Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier, 36 yrs old Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress, 35 yrs old Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. 50 yr. Crista Escamilla. Paul's 16 year old slave/wife Alfred 16, male, Watch cadet Twin brother of Algar Algar: 16, male, Squire to Earl Reinhard. Twin brother of Alfred Parcell Chambers: 16, male Squire to Earl Reinhard. Master Fenwick Dougal: 50s, former soldier in the Kingdom army, Watch instructor. Vetch Rawls: 45, master scout of the Watch. Desert tracker. Earl Raymond Charles Reinhard: 2nd son of his Grace Duke Cedric Reinhard III. Mayor John: Mayor of Florence, Minor noble Baron Lecher: Swordmaster to Duke Reinhard III Commander Barnes: Commander of the City Watch General Yosef Alexander: Commander of Duke Reinhard's Army. Marquise Edward Hall Reinhard: Eldest son of Duke Reinhard, half-brother to Earl Raymond Reinhard Pam Wright: Servant in Earl Raymond Reinhard's estate, and Crista's friend Madam Hilda Birch: Supervisor of female servants in Earl Reinhard's estate Surgeon Nevin Vallis: Scientist, doctor, advisor to the Desert King. |
By lancellot
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Paul’s eyes grew large as a veil of horror fell over his mind. “We don’t have every direction covered.” His head slowly turned upward, and his eyes struggled to see into the vast gloom above his head, when suddenly-- he saw hundreds of descending red eyes staring back at him.
“To arms!” he shouted, drawing his short sword.
But his call came too late. The shrill sound of men screaming drowned out his warning. Paul had no time to repeat or yell louder. Twin creatures of death quickly fell upon him. His sword slashed once, twice, and then a third time before the howl of life leaving a body graced his ears.
“Die! Die you eight-legged bitches,” shouted Parcel as his spear pierced the head of a lion-sized spider.
Paul did not look over his shoulder; hearing his friend’s battle cries were enough to assure him Parcell had his back.
Minutes seemed like hours. Paul’s hands and arms were coated in blood and foulness from disembodied scrappers. He and Parcell danced in tandem as they crisscrossed the battlefield. Several times he lost his footing tripping over a dead teammate or a severed limb, sometimes a scrapper’s, sometimes not. Paul and Parcell fought hard and helped when they could. If a man was surrounded they quickly added their steel to his, but when they saw an unlucky soul being dragged into darkness -- well, there was only so much anyone could do.
“To the center, men.” That cry came from Raymond as he and Algar stabbed and slashed a path to the middle of the cave.
Around the cavern, men staved off hungry jaws and dripping fangs to join their leader. Paul and Parcell were no different, but the going was not easy. The spiders came in all sizes. Some as big as a bear, others smaller than a puppy, and the small ones were the worst. The nimble abominations often skittered left and right, easily dodging, stabbing spears, and slipping under slashing swords.
By the time Paul and Parcell made it to Raymond and Algar, the young lead squire was thoroughly frustrated. It had not been that long since last he was in the caverns. He was completely mystified by how much the young scrappers varied in size, and still, he did not see the mother.
High above the carnage in the upper shadows of the rocky cavern watched the mother spider. She knew full well why her children varied in size. Unknown to Paul was the fact that spiders were not that particular in what or who they ate, and that included each other. During the time of hatching, some of her stronger babies feasted on the weaker ones. The mother spider was not displeased by this; it was only natural. She occasionally snapped up a sick or deformed offspring.
Over time the remaining men formed a tight defensive circle in the middle of the cavern with Lecher, Raymond, Paul, and Rawls at opposite ends. The men held out torches and spears on the perimeter, while the wounded and those with swords kept their eyes focused above for sneak attacks.
But, the mother spider was done with that tactic. A spider is not as intelligent as an animal, but they are not as simpleminded as an insect either. A spider is something in between, and it is capable of learning, and learn she did. She did not remember the individual two-legged furless creatures who attacked her in the sands and invaded her home, but she recognized their species by sight, sound, and scent. Oh, yes, she did, and she remembered how they teamed up and how they used fire against her. And what she learned she passed on to her children; her many, many hungry children.
It was clear to Paul that their initial plan of dealing with the spiders was not working. They hadn’t accounted for the different sizes, the sneak attack, or the vast number of them. Plus, there was something -- wrong with them.
“We’re okay. They can’t get through,” yelled Lecher. “The creatures are keeping their distance. Though I feel they are working together.” He stabbed at a dog-sized scrapper who immediately jumped back, avoiding death.
Raymond noticed it too. The spiders had them surrounded. They ceased their all-out attack and seemed to be waiting for something or someone's command. He scanned the walls and as much of the ceiling as he could. “The mother must be here somewhere.”
“Careful,” Paul said to the man next to him, whose torch came too close to his face. “Watch where you put that—” Paul quickly looked around him, and his face went pale. “Dear Lord,” he cried out. “It’s the torches! They’re waiting for the torches to go out.”
Algar instantly looked down at his shrinking flame. He quickly reached for his backpack, which wasn’t there. His eyes darted to the floor, but all he saw was blood, gore, and shadows, ever-increasing and growing shadows. “Can… can scrappers see in the dark?” he asked of no one and everyone at once.
No man answered as they all looked to their dying lights.
In the darkness above, if she could, the mother spider would have smiled and answered, “Yes.”
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Paul Escamilla, 16 yrs old, Squire to Earl Reinhard. formerly, Derrick Williams, US soldier. reborn as Paul. Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier, 36 yrs old Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress, 35 yrs old Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. 50 yr. Crista Escamilla. Paul's 16 year old slave/wife Alfred 16, male, Watch cadet Twin brother of Algar Algar: 16, male, Squire to Earl Reinhard. Twin brother of Alfred Parcell Chambers: 16, male Squire to Earl Reinhard. Master Fenwick Dougal: 50s, former soldier in the Kingdom army, Watch instructor. Vetch Rawls: 45, master scout of the Watch. Desert tracker. Earl Raymond Charles Reinhard: 2nd son of his Grace Duke Cedric Reinhard III. Mayor John: Mayor of Florence, Minor noble Baron Lecher: Swordmaster to Duke Reinhard III Commander Barnes: Commander of the City Watch General Yosef Alexander: Commander of Duke Reinhard's Army. Marquise Edward Hall Reinhard: Eldest son of Duke Reinhard, half-brother to Earl Raymond Reinhard Pam Wright: Servant in Earl Raymond Reinhard's estate, and Crista's friend Madam Hilda Birch: Supervisor of female servants in Earl Reinhard's estate Surgeon Nevin Vallis: Scientist, doctor, advisor to the Desert King. |
By lancellot
For five days, Raymond’s party ran from eight-legged demons dogging their every step, denying them rest or recovery.
On the third day, Raymond ordered the men to pair-up. One would sleep while the other watched over him. Algar drew first watch while one of the two remaining mapmakers slept.
An hour later, Raymond was furious. "How, Squire? How can he just be gone? Don't say that again. Don't you dare!"
Algar's bloodshot eyes darted around the shadow-covered cavern for aid, but even Paul and Parcell averted their eyes. "My Lord, I-- I was watching, I swear. There was a bit of dust. I wiped my face to clear my sight for only a second, not even that. I swear it, and then he was--- he was just not there."
Raymond turned and walked away muttering to himself. After that, watcher or not. No man risked closing his eyes.
***
Though the men stayed awake, the mother spider did not. She and her children had fed well, and still they had plenty of food wrapped, poisoned and stored away for later. Hunting the weird creatures had become boring, so she retired and let her children do as they wished. This was but the first blessing for the pitiful humans.
***
For a time, it seemed nature, fate and the three gods were on the side of the beasts, but then on the fifth day, someone changed their mind.
"There are two devils behind us. I can see their evil eyes." Algar's sword scraped the rocky ground. His bruised, bitten, and scarred arms shook uncontrollably. His hands no longer pained him, though that was because he could no longer feel them. "I just wish my bloody arms would stop shaking."
Parcell stood at his friend's shoulder. "My whole body is trembling."
The twin dog-sized spiders suddenly stopped their advance, turned, and dashed away. Parcell and Algar looked at each other with confusion. Then the world around them seemed to come alive. They were tossed in the air as effortlessly as a child throws a ball.
"Earthquake!" Paul screamed. "To the walls. Get to the walls."
The men somehow managed to hug the walls as dust, rocks, and cries echoed throughout.
As suddenly as it began, the quake ended. Spiders, dust, danger, debris or not. When the world steadied, no one moved. There was no talking, no watches, no plans, no torchlight. From noble to peasant, all that was heard were snores and sobs. The men closed their eyes and let fate or the gods do as they willed.
It had been at least two days since the quake, and they last saw a spider. Many wanted to return home, and Raymond agreed. In truth, he could not return in failure without significant risk. Though his father would understand, Raymond knew such a political blunder would be seized upon by his brother, but that was a problem for tomorrow; today, his men needed to survive.
The men had mapped a good amount of the tunnels surrounding the southern desert entrance. Some tunnels were collapsed, so they had to backtrack several times. They found new passageways, lightly sealed but clearable. The mapmaker quickly scribed them and placed markings on the walls. After moving many miles east, the miners had estimated that they had probably crossed the Great Divide and were nearly back to the kingdom.
While moving northwest through an unexplored tunnel, the last miner came to a sudden halt. From his covered package came frantic chirping and fluttering of wings.
The man held up the covered cage and slowly began to back away.
Paul noticed that his spider leg torch had become brighter. “Gas.”
“Torches out,” commanded Raymond. “Back off, everyone back.”
They quickly retreated with the then trailing scout in the lead as he was the only man with a lighted leg-torch.
Soon the bird stopped, and then so did the men. They had made it to a conjunction point and relit their torches.
“Mark that passage well,” Raymond ordered, and the lone mapmaker made signs of fire and death on the passage’s entrance.
The party moved west again. At one point, they encountered what seemed to be the rusted remnants of a train car.
“My God,” Paul said, examining the fragile skeletal remains of mass transit.
Raymond limped to his squire’s side. “It was metal once, but to have lasted this long. I know not of what kind.”
“My Lord,” Paul's voice was high with excitement. “This is the first relic we’ve seen. Perhaps this tunnel was unsealed by the quake. We should look around a bit.”
The earl hesitated at the suggestion, but the earnest look in Paul’s eyes gave him pause. “Alright, we lunch here. Feel free to look around but don’t wander off.”
The men immediately broke out their salvaged spider meat and took seats upon the rocky ground. Aside from Paul, the looks on their faces showed no curiosity, only disguest for the raw flesh they had to consume.
Paul was just about to give up when his foot hit something in the dust outside what used to be a boxcar. He knelt and raked his fingers in what he assumed were rocks but soon recognized as fossilized bone. Further digging revealed a golden skeleton key, something that would fit a little lock. It must have been pure gold, for aside from dirt, there was no sign of rust. But that was not what Paul hit with his foot. He dug more, found a corner of dark glass. After five minutes of digging, he pulled out a small black crystal case, complete with a golden lock, wholly filled with sediment.
“What is it?” asked Algar from over his shoulder.
Paul looked up to see a small group of men surrounding him. He turned the glass box over in his hand and then looked at the golden key. “It’s a keepsake. A child’s treasure box.”
“Treasure,” repeated several of the men.
Paul did not even look but let his annoyance show in his voice. “Not like that. It’s more likely flowers, letters, or such. Young girls used them to hide their diaries from their little brothers. My cou-” He stopped himself, realizing that he was saying too much. “My friend, a traveling merchant and bit of a historian, told me about them. He wanted to fashion something similar for young girls to hide away candy or flowers but never got around to it.”
The earl waved his hand. “A trinket, no more. Alright, men, enough wasting time. Let’s move.” He pointed to the mapmaker. “But I want this area marked on the map for future study. A golden key is still gold.”
Paul stowed the box and key in his backpack. The group lined up and headed off. Hope returned to their faces when they found their previous markings and instantly knew where they were.
Things were quiet when Raymond nudged Paul, “You were quite excited when you saw that rusted frame, and you knew precisely about the glass box at first glance. I will not force you, but it is clear that you know things no common lad should. When I add the things you say, the spear, and the report from Master Lecher and those hideous garments, I am convinced you are not a normal man. When you are ready, I would like to know precisely who the squire serving me is.”
A day later, the party reached the passage that the squires had entered during their mission to save Alfred. There were smiles all around as they made their way above ground with renewed energy.
Outside, Rawls established a watch rotation for the night. They were close to home, but Rawls knew well the desert was just as unsafe as underground, if not more.
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Paul Escamilla, 16 yrs old, Squire to Earl Reinhard. formerly, Derrick Williams, US soldier. reborn as Paul. Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier, 36 yrs old Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress, 35 yrs old Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. 50 yr. Crista Escamilla. Paul's 16 year old slave/wife Alfred 16, male, Watch cadet Twin brother of Algar Algar: 16, male, Squire to Earl Reinhard. Twin brother of Alfred Parcell Chambers: 16, male Squire to Earl Reinhard. Master Fenwick Dougal: 50s, former soldier in the Kingdom army, Watch instructor. Vetch Rawls: 45, master scout of the Watch. Desert tracker. Earl Raymond Charles Reinhard: 2nd son of his Grace Duke Cedric Reinhard III. Mayor John: Mayor of Florence, Minor noble Baron Lecher: Swordmaster to Duke Reinhard III Commander Barnes: Commander of the City Watch General Yosef Alexander: Commander of Duke Reinhard's Army. Marquise Edward Hall Reinhard: Eldest son of Duke Reinhard, half-brother to Earl Raymond Reinhard Pam Wright: Servant in Earl Raymond Reinhard's estate, and Crista's friend Madam Hilda Birch: Supervisor of female servants in Earl Reinhard's estate Surgeon Nevin Vallis: Scientist, doctor, advisor to the Desert King. Pays one point and 2 member cents. |
By lancellot
Master Rawls established a watch rotation for the night. They were too close to the desert to risk being spotted by bandits just for a bit of fresh air.
Raymond deferred the decision to make a campfire to Rawls. The old scout wanted to say no, but the sorrowful look in the men’s eyes touched a not yet dead part of his heart.
“Fine, have your cooking fire, but--” He raised his finger, not his voice. “Keep it small, and the first man who farts into the wind will have my boot up his ass.”
The men rejoiced and quickly set traps and snares. Not more than an hour later, they caught two hares and a vulture. Why the bird of death was there, they did not question; they should have. To the men, after days of raw spider, anything resembling chicken was a blessing. No farts were released, but the scent of rabbit stew and baked bird traveled far across the sands.
Though Rawls kept the flames low, the campfire's mere presence dulled the men’s night vision. Not that it would have mattered. The two tribesmen watching them from across the dunes were of such skill that they could sit five feet from the fire and still not be seen by all except Master Rawls. His keen eyes constantly swept the landscape, and occasionally they stopped on a specific dune to the west. The scout did not see the men, but there was something about how the night air shimmered over that spot that disturbed him.
Master Rawls yawned deeply and stretched his arms out wide. He walked a few yards from the camp, lifted his kilt, and relieved himself with a satisfying sigh. After watering the sand, he returned to the warmth of the campfire.
The earl was showing Paul his compass when Master Rawls saddled next to them.
“Stopwatches, eyeglasses, pencils, and compasses. Yet, no indoor plumbing, gas or electric lights, and no pants.” Paul slapped the leg of his pants. “It is all so… so random.”
There was silence from Parcel, Algar, Raymond, and Rawls.
“I say, young squire,” said Raymond, “there are times I think you mad, and others when you remind me of surgeon Vallis. That old man said similar strange things all the time. Then again he was quite mad also.”
The earl’s gaze drifted to Rawls’s weathered face. “What is it?”
Master Rawls looked around before speaking in a lowered tone, “Perhaps nothing, perhaps something. I cannot be sure, my Lord. I think we are being watched from the west.”
The earl motioned for Sword Master Lecher.
The man quickly came to his lord’s side.
“Master Rawls senses,” Edward began, his voice also low, “that we are being watched. He thinks that they are--”
“To the west of us, just beyond the far dune,” he finished the earl’s sentence. “Yes, I have had the same feeling.”
“Bandits?” said Algar.
Lecher shrugged. “Not sure, at least no bandits such as I have encountered.”
“We must know.” The earl looked at Rawls. “Can you circle and capture them?”
Rawls looked at Lecher. The sword master shrugged again. “We can try, my lord, but they do seem very skilled,” Lecher said before he and Rawls rose and walked towards their tents.
“Should we help?” asked Parcell, fingering his dagger.
“No.” The earl tossed another stick on the fire and then stretched out his legs in the sand. “We would only get in their way. Best for us to remain as we are and give the appearance that we are unaware of their surveillance.” Raymond looked at his scratched and scraped legs and then at the legs of his squires. All showed hard-living or combat signs, all except Paul, whose legs were covered to his ankles. “Paul, are those… what did you call them… pants comfortable?”
Paul looked down at his pants. They were dusty and showed severe signs of needing a wash, but they were otherwise intact. “Yes, my lord. Also, I find they keep my balls better protected.”
“Your what?” asked Parcell.
Paul sighed. “My balls. You know, my testicles, my family jewels.” Paul looked at the other men’s blank expressions. “Oh, come on. What do you call your nuts? Wait, what did my father call them when I was little.” He grabbed his crotch. “My seed sacks.”
“Oh,” the men answered at once and then began laughing into the night.
Master Rawls and one of the scouts, Tim went to the north then slowly tracked southwest. The plan was for Lecher to go south of the camp and then move up northwest. Then they would box in their invisible observer. Rawls and Tim had just begun moving south when they both knew their plan was foiled. A red flare shot high into the sky just west of them. They looked at each other for only a second before turning and running towards camp as fast as they could.
To the south, Lecher also saw the flare and begun sprinting back to camp.
As the flare arched into the sky, the remaining men watched and pointed at the bright red light.
The earl stared up at the falling light. “What is that?”
“My God, it’s a flare,” said Paul tracking the falling blaze. “I didn’t know you had…” his voice trailed off as he saw the confused faces around him. “Shit. It’s a flare,” he yelled at Raymond. “It’s a signal flare. We must go, my lord. They’re coming!”
The earl hesitated for only a moment before raising his voice. “Break camp. Everyone, grab your gear and get back to the tunnel, now.” Raymond did know who or how many were coming, but he did know they could not survive a fight in the open desert or reach the city gates before being overtaken in their exhausted condition.
Not far away, two thousand men looked to the east as a manmade star lit up the night. Edward smiled at Vallis. “Finally.”
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Paul Escamilla, 16 yrs old, Squire to Earl Reinhard. formerly, Derrick Williams, US soldier. reborn as Paul. Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier, 36 yrs old Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress, 35 yrs old Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. 50 yr. Crista Escamilla. Paul's 16 year old slave/wife Alfred 16, male, Watch cadet Twin brother of Algar Algar: 16, male, Squire to Earl Reinhard. Twin brother of Alfred Parcell Chambers: 16, male Squire to Earl Reinhard. Master Fenwick Dougal: 50s, former soldier in the Kingdom army, Watch instructor. Vetch Rawls: 45, master scout of the Watch. Desert tracker. Earl Raymond Charles Reinhard: 2nd son of his Grace Duke Cedric Reinhard III. Mayor John: Mayor of Florence, Minor noble Baron Lecher: Swordmaster to Duke Reinhard III Commander Barnes: Commander of the City Watch General Yosef Alexander: Commander of Duke Reinhard's Army. Marquise Edward Hall Reinhard: Eldest son of Duke Reinhard, half-brother to Earl Raymond Reinhard Pam Wright: Servant in Earl Raymond Reinhard's estate, and Crista's friend Madam Hilda Birch: Supervisor of female servants in Earl Reinhard's estate Surgeon Nevin Vallis: Scientist, doctor, advisor to the Desert King. |
By lancellot
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Edward rode his lizard hard. The beasts were the size of horses, ran on two legs like men but glided over sand as if skating on ice. Giant lizards were common in the three kingdoms but not popular, as they were hard to tame and would occasionally eat a small child or two. The desert people loved them; they bonded with their lizards before they hatched and they had kids to spare, but none of that concerned Edward.
His scouts confirmed his brother’s party surfaced a day’s walk from the Florence. After getting word, two of his best assassins were killed infiltrating Raymond’s estate on a pointless mission he was in a foul mood.
Edward had his men follow some forging scrappers to their nest, in hopes that one led to the tunnels Raymond was exploring. Five dead scrappers and fifty dead tribesmen later, not a trace of Raymond was found. The Desert King, cursed himself for only just skimming a copy of his brother’s exploration proposal. His men had been unprepared for that many scrappers or earthquakes. Only luck allowed three men to escape the eight-legged demons.
When Raymond had first mentioned it during the meeting with their father and the council, Edward had dismissed it out of spite and only listened to half of what his brother said. Sensing or perhaps knowing of his disdain for Raymond, his supporters slash traitors on the council also, dismissed Raymond.
Now, Edward had broken away without killing his insect of a brother. He had counted on his public betrayal, the loss of sixty thousand soldiers, including General Alexander and the death of his beloved Raymond to critically weaken the Duke, and make his eventual defeat that much easier. But destiny is a fickle woman, and it appeared she meant for Raymond’s death to be by Edward’s hands around his brother’s neck.
Raymond and two of his squires ushered the rest of the party down into the entrance. Algar, and the map maker were sent ahead to make sure everyone went down the correct tunnel leading to the gate. Yes, the path had been marked but in haste, fear and darkness men make life ending mistakes easier than an eagle takes flight.
“Leave the blasted supplies,” yelled Lecher pushing the lone miner towards the entrance.
“But, my bird, we need him. I think there's…” the man cried.
Lecher slapped the cage from his hands and kicked the miner down the slope.
“They’re here!” The shout came from Rawls as he and Raymond sent the last man inside.
The Earl looked back to see the greenish brown snouts of a dozen lizards charging at them in a cloud of dust. With the rising sun behind their backs, the riders looked almost like majestic saviors, except for the blood curdling screams and the swords raised in the air.
Even with his face covered, a turban and desert robes adorning his body Raymond knew the intense gaze and riding style of the lead rider. “It can’t be."
“Yes! It's death.” Lecher grabbed Raymond by the shoulders and pushed him into the breach. “Everyone in now!” he shouted.
Seconds after Lecher disappeared into the hole three desert tribesmen jumped from their moving lizards and down the hole. Their twitching feet still searched for the ground as they died suspended upon well placed spears their unadjusted eyes never saw.
Lecher laughed as he pulled his sword. He let Paul and Parcell dispatch two more riders, who did look before they leapt. “Quickly lads, before we are overwhelmed.” Lecher turned and began to run.
Before Lecher could leave the shadows from above, he heard the clash of steel striking steel. More bandits were upon Parcell and Paul. Lecher ran to their aid and a slow battling retreat was on.
The Earl’s last two guards came back to help as more bandits entered form above. Armed also with spears, Paul and the guards were able to keep most of the bandits at bay, while Lecher and Algar threw rocks from the shadows smashing skulls like snippers.
Suddenly a wild swing from one of the bandits struck a rocky projecting from the wall. Paul saw the man instantly cover his exposed eyes and fall to the ground gagging. “Fall back,” he yelled and grabbed Parcell’s arm.
Lecher saw the bandit on the ground as a loud hiss came from the wall. He began to back away. A guard behind him suddenly threw his torch to the ground, quickly extinguishing it. For a second in the soft glow of the distant opening both bandits and defenders paused. One man began to cough, then another and another. The bandits slowly began to retreat while covering their mouth and nose, as did Lecher and his men.
Edward jumped off his lizard and ran to the opening. “Go! Go!” he screamed at three bandits standing around a frantically squealing yellow bird in a wooden bird cage.
Vallis, much slower, climbed off his Lizard, while holding a torch. He began looking around mumbling, “The squire. Don’t kill the squire.”
Edward ran to Vallis. "Must I do everything myself." He ripped the torch from Vallis, turned and stormed back to the breach. He pushed one of the gawking bandits aside and kicked the bird cage down the hole. “Die, just die, you son of a whore!” He drew back his arm.
Vallis was slow in following but he saw the men run from the entrance, a crying bird fly out of the breach and then the torch leave Edward’s hand. Edward had a look of pure ecstasy on his face and flaming stick disappeared. Genius that he was, Vallis’ face instantly put everything together in less than a second. His own face twisted in horror as he screamed, “No!”
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Paul Escamilla, 16 yrs old, Squire to Earl Reinhard. formerly, Derrick Williams, US soldier. reborn as Paul. Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier, 36 yrs old Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress, 35 yrs old Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. 50 yr. Crista Escamilla. Paul's 16 year old slave/wife Alfred 16, male, Watch cadet Twin brother of Algar Algar: 16, male, Squire to Earl Reinhard. Twin brother of Alfred Parcell Chambers: 16, male Squire to Earl Reinhard. Master Fenwick Dougal: 50s, former soldier in the Kingdom army, Watch instructor. Vetch Rawls: 45, master scout of the Watch. Desert tracker. Earl Raymond Charles Reinhard: 2nd son of his Grace Duke Cedric Reinhard III. Mayor John: Mayor of Florence, Minor noble Baron Lecher: Swordmaster to Duke Reinhard III Commander Barnes: Commander of the City Watch General Yosef Alexander: Commander of Duke Reinhard's Army. Marquise Edward Hall Reinhard: Eldest son of Duke Reinhard, half-brother to Earl Raymond Reinhard Pam Wright: Servant in Earl Raymond Reinhard's estate, and Crista's friend Madam Hilda Birch: Supervisor of female servants in Earl Reinhard's estate Surgeon Nevin Vallis: Scientist, doctor, advisor to the Desert King. |
By lancellot
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Eyebrow-less, Edward, the self-crowned Desert King, sat in the sand like a well-tanned beggar as his men tried in vain to clear the collapsed entrance to the tunnels. Some of his advanced scouts were dead, and at least six were missing. Edward didn’t care; if they stood before him, he would probably execute them for failing to bring Raymond’s head as ordered.
For the last two hours, he had alternated between pride and doubt. Pride over the way he had burned his brother to death in the pits of Hell and doubt that maybe Raymond had somehow escaped. He stole a glance at his intelligent yet annoying advisor.
Vallis had finally tired himself out from endless pacing. Vallis reread Raymond’s report on the discovery of the tunnels and his proposed party members.
Edward did not know why the man was so excited one minute and pained the next. All he did was mumble something about an experiment and the Escamilla woman. Of course, Edward remembered her. Not that they had talked much, she was a commoner, beautiful, yes, but stubborn. His bastard brother was fascinated with the girl. He remembered making mild advances on her. He didn’t dislike or like her, but because Raymond doted over Rosetta like a love-struck puppy, he wanted to plow the girl in every hole possible like a deranged mule right in his brother’s face.
In the end, thanks to Vallis, all he managed to do was rape her once while she slept. It was his first sexual encounter. It was stimulating, and he tried to be rough and as degrading as possible, but the more he grunted with effort, the louder she snored. He had almost gone soft from disappointment, but it was his first time, so luckily, he came quickly. He told Raymond he had used her like a common whore, and she loved it. His taunts were only half-true but Raymond didn’t believe him. Why should he? The girl had no memory of it and displayed no injuries, despite his best efforts. Edward soon tired of that pointless game and moved to other ways of torturing his despicable half-brother. He hadn’t thought about that girl since.
A fast-approaching rider caught his attention, and he rose from the sand. It was a spy he sent to the south gate of Florence. Edward had warned the man not to return with ill news.
Vallis saw the man dismount and joined Edward.
The spy knelt in the sand before Edward. “My king, I have news.”
The man was a former kingdom soldier, and Edward was already annoyed with all the formalities he carried over. “Well, out with it,” he shouted.
“My king, there… there are survivors. I counted six walking and one being carried. My king, your… that is, the earl is alive and seemingly uninjured.”
Vallis glanced at Edward and took a few steps back. He knew all too well of Edward’s all-encompassing hatred for his family. Vallis knew when that hatred began and why. He also knew things Edward didn’t know, but those secrets he kept to himself; he liked living too much.
The spy stayed kneeling and his body trembled but not from the cold. All around Edward, his people held their breath. To a man, they all expected an outburst that would rival the explosion that still burned their lungs.
In a low somber tone, Edward turned to his advisor. “Vallis, summon the men.”
Vallis nodded, began to turn, and then stopped and turned back. “Um…my King, how many men?”
Faster than a snake’s strike, Edward’s hand shot out and wrapped around the old man’s neck. With strength born of rage and constant training, he lifted Vallis from his feet and held the man inches from his face. “All--of--them!” His voice echoed across the barren scape like a sudden sandstorm. Seconds later, dozens of red flares set the night sky on fire.
Rawls and Lecher stood atop the south wall and watched the night sky turn into a false dawn. Rawls pointed to young Alfred, who stood duty at the colossal brass warning bell.
The citizens of Florence woke early to a red dawn and the ringing of a bell they hoped they would never hear again.
~
The duke had come to Florence, and he brought a thousand men with him. As his war council took seats in the mayor’s office, they all learned the former Marquise, Edward Reinhard, had at least sixty times that number. There were already more than two thousand camped outside the gate, with more arriving each hour. Fortunately, the breach outside the gate was covered over before their arrival, thanks to Parcell’s quick thinking. The young man had stepped up after Paul went down. He stood behind the earl as the council debated.
“Your Grace, when can we expect aid from the capitol?” the mayor asked. It was the question on everyone’s mind.
“I sent word to the king as soon as I learned of Edward’s betrayal. Another raven was dispatched with a request for aid.” Duke Reinhard lowered his head. “I will be forthright. We will get no aid from his majesty.”
There was an immediate clamor as civility and decorum gave way to fear. It was understandable, and for almost a minute, Duke Reinhard allowed them to express their concerns for their homes and families before he raised his hand for silence.
“Your Grace.” Commander Barnes stood. “Two of my men have returned from the capitol no more than an hour ago. They claim the Royal army was massing and preparing to march.”
The duke nodded his head. “Yes, I expect they would. But their destination will not be Florence but the border of my region. Once at the border, they will form a line and await the outcome of our battle.”
“But.” Mayor Flinn stood as Barnes sat down. “Your grace, why would the king do this? The desert tribesmen are…”
“Led by my son,” the duke’s voice thundered. He inhaled and visibly calmed himself. “Edward’s mother, my first wife, is…was a cousin of the King. I--” He looked at the earl. “Raymond and I, are not related to his majesty by blood or the bonds of marriage anymore. So, from his majesty’s standpoint, what is happening here is an internal power struggle, and…” The duke lowered his head.
“And as far as the king is concerned.” Raymond rose from his seat. “If my brother claims the region, that only makes the royal family’s position stronger.” He sighed. “Also, it is entirely possible that the king may consider an alliance with the Desert Tribes beneficial to him and the Kingdom. Hell, he may have known about my brother all along, who can say.”
The room fell into silence as each man weighed his thoughts, position, and relationship with Edward. Raymond scanned the faces around the room and did not see much optimism in them. His brother did not make friends; he made subjects, and he openly wore his disdain for his fellow nobles.
Mayor Flinn rose. “It seems the king is taking a huge risk. Would your... um…Edward do all this for a title that would have gone to him anyway?”
“No.” Lecher stood. “Edward doesn’t want land, and he doesn’t care for titles. He would likely burn the duke’s castle to the ground right after Florence. The king believes in the ties of family. Edward, begging your pardon, your grace, could give a rat’s ass about family. He wants to destroy everything belonging to the duke, the region, the castle, Florence, and his son. But, speculation on all that can wait. First and foremost, we must defend this city.”
“Which brings us back to our problem.” Commander Barnes slammed his fist into his hand. “The only reason Edward isn’t attacking now is because he doesn’t want to take the city; he wants to destroy it. When he has enough men to accomplish that easily, he will attack, which may be in a day or two at the most. We need a plan before then.”
“Yes, right now, my son’s army is more of a threat than he is.” The duke turned to Master Lecher. “Sword Master, can you lead the troops we have? Forgive me for thrusting this upon you, old friend, but you are the most experienced military commander we have with the loss of General Alexander.”
Just then, the office doors opened, and all the men gasped.
“Not lost, just delayed.” General Alexander strode into the room. Captain Escamilla and Squire Algar followed him. “The captain here has filled me in on the way. I have faced Death, and sent the bitch home wanting. With your help, we shall do it again.”
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Paul Escamilla, 16 yrs old, Squire to Earl Reinhard. formerly, Derrick Williams, US soldier. reborn as Paul. Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier, 36 yrs old Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress, 35 yrs old Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. 50 yr. Crista Escamilla. Paul's 16 year old slave/wife Alfred 16, male, Watch cadet Twin brother of Algar Algar: 16, male, Squire to Earl Reinhard. Twin brother of Alfred Parcell Chambers: 16, male Squire to Earl Reinhard. Master Fenwick Dougal: 50s, former soldier in the Kingdom army, Watch instructor. Vetch Rawls: 45, master scout of the Watch. Desert tracker. Earl Raymond Charles Reinhard: 2nd son of his Grace Duke Cedric Reinhard III. Mayor John: Mayor of Florence, Minor noble Baron Lecher: Swordmaster to Duke Reinhard III Commander Barnes: Commander of the City Watch General Yosef Alexander: Commander of Duke Reinhard's Army. Marquise Edward Hall Reinhard: Eldest son of Duke Reinhard, half-brother to Earl Raymond Reinhard Pam Wright: Servant in Earl Raymond Reinhard's estate, and Crista's friend Madam Hilda Birch: Supervisor of female servants in Earl Reinhard's estate Surgeon Nevin Vallis: Scientist, doctor, advisor to the Desert King. |
By lancellot
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
The general stared in confusion for just a moment before his eyes went wide. “Nevin…but… you’re alive… how?”
“Oh, that’s a long story.” Formerly thought deceased, Surgeon Nevin Vallis walked up to his old friend and gave him a quick but awkward hug. “I tended your nose while you were out.” In a lower tone, he whispered, “Take this. There’s a dagger in your boot.” He slipped a small razor into the general’s hand.
“Fear not, the lovely Sabina did not break it. Most men only see her softer side; very sensual that one. Few men survive after witnessing her wrath. You were lucky. I hope that luck holds, for your sake.”
Edward and Vallis began to leave. At the opening, Edward paused. “Goodbye, General; should we meet on the other side, do not think unkindly of me. I do what must be done.”
Vallis turned to the two guards. “Take two lizards and a wagon. Let him have the respect afforded his rank by being alone with his thoughts before he dies.”
The guards nodded and then left to prepare the wagon as ordered by their King’s advisor. General Alexander wasted no time. The ropes binding his wrists were thick and many. It would take a while to cut through them with the small razor Vallis supplied, but the general didn’t complain. He quickly put his fingers to work.
Within five minutes, the two men were back. Confident in themselves, they did not bother examining his bonds. They cut through the ropes holding him to his chair. After standing him up, they gave him a few seconds to get the circulation back to his legs.
“It’s not personal, General,” one of the men said. “For what it’s worth, I’m happy the marquise, I mean, the desert king didn’t outright order your death. I hope the three gods smile on you in the desert.”
“Whatever,” mumbled the other guard and pushed the general out of the tent. “Let’s get this over with. I have plans to be six inches deep inside Isabella's fuzzy-wuzzy tonight.”
“Six inches, my ass,” replied the first guard as he loaded the general into wagon. “I was at the last orgy; it looks more like four inches.”
“It doesn’t matter, Brada. Isabella can motivate an extra two inches out of any man. Trust me, you kingdom boys don’t know what good fuzzy-wuzzy is, but you’ll learn.”
As the men drove the wagon out of camp and headed into the desert, their conversation became more sexual. The general didn’t mind. The more focused they were on female flesh, the less attention they paid to him. Since he had no idea what constituted the deep desert to them, he worked as fast as possible.
After they left the coolness, the shadow of the canyon walls provided, the temperature increased drastically. Even the shade provided by the wagon’s canvas was of little comfort. The general was sweating profusely. He was working his fingers so hard; his hands cramped on him twice. Each time he fought against the pain and spasming muscles. There were gaps in the flooring of the wagon, and if he dropped the razor, it would be lost in the sand forever, and so would he.
About thirty minutes into the ride, the wagon began to slow.
The man called Brada looked around at the landscape. “I think this is enough. What do you think, Siros?”
Siros did not look at his surroundings. Instead, he turned and glared at the general. “I think if you weren’t here, his head would have been rolling down the dunes ten minutes ago, and the buzzards would be feasting on his eyes.”
Brada stopped the wagon. “I’ll take that as Yes, Brada, this is far enough. By the gods, you’re impatient.”
“I’m not impatient. I’m horny. I had sentry duty last night and didn’t get any.”
The guards climbed down and walked toward the back of the wagon. The general palmed the razor and pulled his binds with all his might. Just before the rope snapped, he began coughing as loud as he could.
Brada opened the back and pulled the general out. “It’s the sand. It gets into your lungs. Don’t worry about it; you’ll get used to it.”
“Or not,” said Siros fingering the hilt of his sword.
Brada stood the general upright. “The sooner you help me get his clothes off. The sooner you'll get Isabella's clothes off, or would you like to waste more time and let someone else ravage her holes.”
“Good point.”
Before Siros could take a step, the general lunged forward with a head butt right into Brada’s nose. The man’s eyes instantly closed as his hands went up to his busted nose.
Siros, shocked by the event, froze. The general never stopped moving. Half a second later, he was behind Brada grabbing his hair. The man’s watery eyes opened in time to feel his head yanked back, and the general’s right hand quickly cross his neck.
Brada wanted to scream. He wanted to beg for mercy. He wanted to apologize for his betrayal, but his adam's apple was split in two. It wasn't quite a soldier's death, but it was mostly painless.
Siros was not a former kingdom soldier, but he wasn’t a rookie either. His shock lasted only seconds, and he was armed; Brada was not. He liked the man, but he liked Isabella’s fuzzy-wuzzy more. But by far, his greatest love was killing people. He was never commanded to join a raiding party; he always volunteered. Seeing and hearing women and children beg for their lives and virtue as he took both filled him with ecstasy.
As Brada fell to his knees deep in death’s cold embrace, Siros smiled at the general and slowly drew his sword. He thought Edward should’ve cut the old man’s head off hours ago, but now that was something he could rectify and with pleasure. In Siros’ mind, his smile, the slow pull of his sword, and menace that he knew shone in his eyes had the old man terrified of his impending and agonizing death.
In the general’s mind, Siros was clearly a killer, but he was also a fool. While Siros was slowly enjoying the moment, in one fluid motion, the veteran of countless battles dropped to one knee, pulled the dagger from his boot, and threw it. The blade was four inches deep into Siros’ throat before he felt the impact.
Siros’ smile dropped, as did his sword. In a haze of disbelief and partial paralysis, he watched the general approach. Beyond the pain in his neck, he wasn’t too sure what was happening to him. His body tingled, the back of his tongue was on fire, and his erection was fading as if he had spent himself inside Isabella.
General Alexander stopped in front of the dying young man. He placed one hand on the hilt of his dagger and then leaned into Siros’ ear. “I’m sorry that was only four inches. I know you longed for six.” He shoved the blade in to its hilt and then gave it a full twist before violently wrenching it out. He didn’t care about the blood spraying his uniform; he didn’t plan on wearing it much longer. He was careful with Siros’ clothes, though, as he laid the man’s head downhill while he stripped him.
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Paul Escamilla, 16 yrs old, Squire to Earl Reinhard. formerly, Derrick Williams, US soldier. reborn as Paul. Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier, 36 yrs old Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress, 35 yrs old Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. 50 yr. Crista Escamilla. Paul's 16 year old slave/wife Alfred 16, male, Watch cadet Twin brother of Algar Algar: 16, male, Squire to Earl Reinhard. Twin brother of Alfred Parcell Chambers: 16, male Squire to Earl Reinhard. Master Fenwick Dougal: 50s, former soldier in the Kingdom army, Watch instructor. Vetch Rawls: 45, master scout of the Watch. Desert tracker. Earl Raymond Charles Reinhard: 2nd son of his Grace Duke Cedric Reinhard III. Mayor John: Mayor of Florence, Minor noble Baron Lecher: Swordmaster to Duke Reinhard III Commander Barnes: Commander of the City Watch General Yosef Alexander: Commander of Duke Reinhard's Army. Marquise Edward Hall Reinhard: Eldest son of Duke Reinhard, half-brother to Earl Raymond Reinhard. Surgeon Nevin Vallis: Scientist, doctor, advisor to the Desert King. Isabella: female desert tribeswoman; attendant and guard to Edward, the desert King. Brada: Former soldier in the duke's army who followed Edward in betrayal Siros: Desert tribesman, guard, killer of women and children. |
By lancellot
Neither dead man was a perfect fit for the general, but he managed a convincing costume of a desert tribesman between the two of them. He didn’t bother with burying the bodies; the sand or vultures would consume them within an hour in the desert.
Before long, General Alexander was back in the camp. In a few minutes, he discovered that Edward and some of his men had ridden off to Florence. He knew Edward had a plan; so, he developed a plan of his own.
He stared at Edward's command tent. "I failed my lord once; I will not fail him again." He boldly walked between the guards and into the tent as if he was on urgent business and had every right.
As expected, neither guard moved to stop or question him. They did turn to look at each other, but neither had information on who the general was, so they feared being wrong more than making an honest mistake and dying. That was something the general noticed with Edward's quick executions of his negotiators. Edward's reign was built upon fear and reward, not respect. Those who defied him were put to the sword and swiftly. Those who followed were given, according to Siros and Brada, lavish orgies with beautiful willing women.
Like those two idiots sent to abandon him in the desert, Edward’s army was a mixed bunch. He had yet to create a command system or give symbols of rank. There were over sixty thousand people in the camp and many strangers to each other. Without Edward or perhaps Vallis, no one knew who was next in command. And as any experienced soldier knew, authority went to whoever grasped it with the most confidence. Besides that Alexander knew his greatest weapon was their lack of knowledge. At the end of the day, Edward was a traitor. So, naturally Edward saw himself in others, and did not trust many with important knowledge. That was a weakness, one that Alexander intended to exploit.
Alexander waited, then stuck his head out of the tent and addressed the two guards in his most commanding voice. "One of you stay here; the other fetch me food and drink immediately. I have much to do for our king and little time. Also, see that I am not disturbed unless the matter is urgent."
Soon, Alexander had turned the two guards into loyal messengers. He drew up orders, and because he didn’t know who the subcommanders were, he ordered the guards to take them where they needed to go. When they looked to be in doubt, Alexander fell back into the character of-- well, that of a commanding general.
He gave the men an unflinching glare. "Our king doesn't need men who cannot think on their feet," he roared. "I am our lord's military adviser. You are his swords. Now don't stand there looking stupid; make his word happen, or in the next orgy, certain warriors will be lined up to get ten inches into you." He narrowed his eyes. "And you know who those warriors are, don't you?" The men jumped to it. They knew who the bulls were; Alexander didn’t, but he knew soldiers not only killed, they also pillaged, and for some dark souls taking loot wasn't enough. They desired taking from a man what he valued most of all.
Within three hours, he had an entire staff and a vivacious secretary serving him food and drink. He stifled a laugh after asking the lovely woman her name.
"My lord advisor, this one's name is Isabella. I serve under Sabina." She bowed low, purposely providing a clear view of her perfect twins.
"Isabella, you do not resemble the other women. Where are you from?" Alexander didn't really care; he only asked to distract himself from the blooming heat within his old but still functional loins.
His heart was pained upon learning the woman was not native to the desert tribe but had been captured ten years prior during a raid on a Union caravan. She was essentially a sex slave under the command of Sabina, trained to service Edward's vast army. Of course, that alerted him to a potential problem that he quickly took care of.
"Isabella, bring me parchment. Our king left orders that must be attended to quickly."
The woman bowed swiftly left the room. Seeing her go was both a relief and a disappointment. However, Alexander did enjoy the view of her walking away.
Disorganized or not, Edward had too many men for the duke’s remaining forces to handle. Alexander's new goal was to send most of now his troops to their secondary camp, which Isabella told him was a hundred miles deeper into the desert. He ensured that most of the traitors who could identify him and a certain woman named Sabina were among the first groups to depart.
Hours later, one of his runners rushed into his tent, all excited, the camp was already down to nearly twenty thousand. "Lord advisor, the sky is filled with signal flares. The king summons us."
Alexander smiled, but inside he cringed because his time was up. Being a nomadic people, the tribesmen were accustomed to moving at a moment’s notice, which made the general's job somewhat easier. But they were also warriors, and when Edward signaled for them to come to his aid for an attack, Alexander knew there was no stopping them.
Alexander stood tall with his eyes focused as if looking ever forward.
His staff and Isabella turned to the commanding and confident figure who temporarily gave them purpose and leadership.
The general amplified his deep baritone voice so that the air itself vibrated when he spoke, "Go, prepare the warriors for battle, and let those who dare defy our king tremble with fear and regret at our coming, for death rides with us."
With Isabella at his side, Alexander strode out of the tent and called the men to war. He gave a quick yet thrilling speech and then sent ten thousand screaming tribesmen to wage war on his kingdom.
The remainder he ordered to make for the second camp. "Our wise king predicts the enemy will attempt a counterattack where they think we are weak. I say, Nah! They will find our arms strong, our spears long, and our knives sharp." He took Isabella's soft hand in his and raised it high. "The brave and powerful women of this tribe will repeal the foolish infidels and teach them that our mothers and daughters are both beautiful and dangerous."
That got a screaming cheer from the women as they held their daggers high with a fire burning in their eyes. They had the camp broken down in minutes and were on their way to the second campsite as fast as humanly possible.
After gathering a few supplies and items he found in Edward’s desk, Alexander ordered two lizards be brought to him. He watched his warriors ride off to Edward's aid while he and Isabella took up the rear. But, the general and his sex slave went in a slightly different direction than Edward’s reinforcements. Alexander knew of a secret entrance in the kingdom wall to enter Florence for the east. And thanks to a cloud of dust, they headed there undetected.
There was a slight delay at the hidden east entrance as the general didn’t look like General Alexander; he looked like the enemy. Even when he removed his turban and face covering, the guards still didn’t believe him. To be honest, the idea of killing Alexander and taking the beautiful Isabella was foremost on their minds. Even covered from head to toe, her extraordinary form was easily discernable, and her grey eyes were nearly hypnotic.
It wasn’t until Alexander threatened to have them hanged by their testicles for treason that their higher minds convinced them to alert the south gate Captain, who soon arrived.
Dominic quickly recognized Alexander and let him in. Dominic happily filled the general in on what was happening and the duke's war conference.
"I see," said Alexander. "Captain, do you have someone trustworthy I may leave my companion with? She was kidnapped, and I would see her safely returned to her family if possible."
Dominic looked at the young woman and instantly knew that he could not trust her with any of his men. They would not rape the girl, but they would try very hard to seduce her or marry her on the spot. "My wife is in my office at the gate. She will take good care of her."
Rosetta promised to look after the woman for the general and get her proper clothing as Isabella drew too much attention.
The general was pleasantly surprised when Isabella kissed him on the lips and made him promise not to abandon her. He promised to return for her, and this brought a smile of relief to the woman’s face. The general suddenly realized that Isabella must have understood his intentions early on, for even now, she offered no resistance to his switching sides. He wasn’t sure if it was the kiss of a young woman or the thrill of war, but he felt thirty years younger and woe to whoever stood before his mighty sword.
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Paul Escamilla, 16 yrs old, Squire to Earl Reinhard. formerly, Derrick Williams, US soldier. reborn as Paul. Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier, 36 yrs old Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress, 35 yrs old Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. 50 yr. Crista Escamilla. Paul's 16 year old slave/wife Alfred 16, male, Watch cadet Twin brother of Algar Algar: 16, male, Squire to Earl Reinhard. Twin brother of Alfred Parcell Chambers: 16, male Squire to Earl Reinhard. Master Fenwick Dougal: 50s, former soldier in the Kingdom army, Watch instructor. Vetch Rawls: 45, master scout of the Watch. Desert tracker. Earl Raymond Charles Reinhard: 2nd son of his Grace Duke Cedric Reinhard III. Mayor John: Mayor of Florence, Minor noble Baron Lecher: Swordmaster to Duke Reinhard III Commander Barnes: Commander of the City Watch General Yosef Alexander: Commander of Duke Reinhard's Army. Marquise Edward Hall Reinhard: Eldest son of Duke Reinhard, half-brother to Earl Raymond Reinhard. Surgeon Nevin Vallis: Scientist, doctor, advisor to the Desert King. Isabella: female desert tribeswoman; attendant and guard to Edward, the desert King. Brada: Former soldier in the duke's army who followed Edward in betrayal Siros: Desert tribesman, guard, killer of women and children. |
By lancellot
| Author Note: | Reader discretion advised. |
Dominic helped carry his son into the Watch’s infirmary. His burnt clothes were peeled off; pieces of his charred skin came with them. The city surgeon didn’t need to tell them what his face and their sense of smell already had. Death was in the room, and she would not be leaving alone.
With his charred clothing removed, Paul was laid on a bed. He did not move or cry out when layers of burned flesh seemed to melt in the men’s hands as they carried him. All present knew he was far removed from pain.
When Rosetta and Crista entered the room, his mother let out a wail of despair so deep it triggered grown men to begin weeping. Several had to leave the room lest they lose what remained of their courage.
Raymond slowly walked to Paul’s bed. He wanted to lay a hand on his squire, but he could not bring himself to touch what covered Paul’s body. Instead, he drew his sword and held it over Paul. Some thought he was about to end the boy's suffering, and neither family nor friend made an attempt to stop him, but then...
“For courage and honor above and beyond his status and standing as a Squire. I, Earl Raymond Charles Reinhard, in the name of my father, Duke Cedric Reinhard the third, hereby proclaim Squire Paul Derick Escamilla is promoted to the rank of Knight from this day until his last. All hail Sir Paul Derick Escamilla, Knight of Valeria.”
The remaining men in the room drew their swords and raised them into the air. “Hail, Sir Paul, Knight of Valeria, son of Dominic Escamilla.”
Rosetta wailed again then rushed to her son. She was grabbed and held by her husband before she could embrace Paul. There she turned and sobbed into his hard chest as he gently stroked her auburn hair.
Soon the room grew quiet, the men withdrew, and all that was heard was Paul’s haggard last breaths. The surgeon shook his head and picked up his medical bag. His heavy eyes turned to Dominic and then fell to his boots. “Captain, I… I must go. There are…other wounded men, and...” He did not say, 'and there is no hope,' but everyone heard it just the same.
Raymond stepped forward, thanked the man, and then walked him out.
Parcell put his arm around Crista and walked her to the door. There she stopped and tore herself away.
“Wait, he’s not dead,” Crista said with tears streaming from her pleading eyes. “Why isn’t he dead? I’ve seen people with less injury who died instantly, but Paul is still alive. Why?”
“Crista.” Parcell placed a hand on her narrow shoulders. “Please, I know you--”
“No!” She slapped his hands away and turned to Dominic and Rosetta. “Paul is different. He heals fast, faster than anyone I’ve ever seen. You know this. I know you know he's different. He’s never sick. He has no scars, none.” She turned to Raymond. “Please, he won’t die. He just needs… he needs a little help this time. He’s waiting for us to help him. I know it. I feel him. Please! He’s a knight. You said so. You must help a knight. You can’t leave him while he still lives. You can’t!”
Raymond stared at Crista and then turned to Dominic and Rosetta. He knew Paul was different too, but he hadn’t known about the accelerated healing. “Why, isn’t he already dead?” he asked aloud. "I too have seen men die from less burns in minutes."
Rosetta stopped sobbing. She looked up at her husband and then down at her charred son. Slowly, her shoulders straightened, her eyes dried, and her head rose. She turned to Parcell and Crista with a fire in her eyes that would scare Death herself. “Crista, go, get me clean water and fresh bandages; lots of them. Parcell, go to the Surgeon’s office, get all the burn salves and anti-infection creams you can find. Then run to the kitchen and fetch me a sharp flat blade, something used for shaving meat.”
Parcell hesitated for just a moment, but one look into her eyes and he flew from the room.
Rosetta went to the bowl of water on the nightstand, dipped a cloth into it and then brought it to her son’s cracked lips. She let drips of water trickle into his mouth and then waited. When he didn’t cough, she let a few more drops rain down. Slowly the tip of his blackened tongue extended just a bit. She gasped and held her chest. “Gods, it’s true.” She hurried back to the bowl and got more water. She leaned down and whispered in his ear. “Hold on, baby. Mommy is here. I’ll take care of you. Just hold on.”
“He can drink!” Dominic exclaimed. “But he’ll need more than water to recover what he’s lost. He can’t eat in that condition.”
Rosetta let her gaze travel over Paul’s disfigured form, and for a second, she shut her eyes. She then leaned close to her son’s ear. “I don’t know if you can hear me, and I don’t know how much you can feel. I’m sorry, but if there is a chance you can grow new skin and flesh,” she paused and took a deep breath. “Be strong, my son. I will try to be quick and remove only that which is beyond repair.” She looked up at Raymond. “My Lord, I will need a--”
The earl nodded. “I understand. I will find a container for… for your use.” He turned and left the room.
Rosetta stood and faced her husband. “Go to the maternity building. Find one of the midwives. Tell them the earl demands a feeder come to the gate’s infirmary in two hours.” She reached out and grabbed her husband’s arm. “Get one of the older women. Someone strong. Someone who has seen… the worst.”
Dominic looked into his wife’s eyes, and understanding was communicated to him. Then he was gone.
Alone with her only child, Rosetta again knelt by his side. She dipped her cloth and let precious drips of water fall onto what remained of his lips. Rosetta looked upon her son with eyes only a mother possesses and saw the baby he was years ago. That little boy who climbed up her body to feed himself at her breasts when he thought she was asleep. What once, she watched with shock; she now looked back upon with pride for the miracle he was. She closed those loving eyes and prayed to the three gods for one more miracle.
Then as her eyes snapped open, she turned to a dark corner of the room. "Get out. You will not have my son. Not while I live."
Perhaps it was a breeze from outside that disturbed one of the candles or maybe it was just tired eyes readjusting, but the shadow seemed to vanish.
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Paul Escamilla, 16 yrs old, Squire to Earl Reinhard. formerly, Derrick Williams, US soldier. reborn as Paul. Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier, 36 yrs old Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress, 35 yrs old Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. 50 yr. Crista Escamilla. Paul's 16 year old slave/wife Alfred 16, male, Watch cadet Twin brother of Algar Algar: 16, male, Squire to Earl Reinhard. Twin brother of Alfred Parcell Chambers: 16, male Squire to Earl Reinhard. Master Fenwick Dougal: 50s, former soldier in the Kingdom army, Watch instructor. Vetch Rawls: 45, master scout of the Watch. Desert tracker. Earl Raymond Charles Reinhard: 2nd son of his Grace Duke Cedric Reinhard III. Mayor John: Mayor of Florence, Minor noble Baron Lecher: Swordmaster to Duke Reinhard III Commander Barnes: Commander of the City Watch General Yosef Alexander: Commander of Duke Reinhard's Army. Marquise Edward Hall Reinhard: Eldest son of Duke Reinhard, half-brother to Earl Raymond Reinhard. Surgeon Nevin Vallis: Scientist, doctor, advisor to the Desert King. Isabella: female desert tribeswoman; attendant and guard to Edward, the desert King. Brada: Former soldier in the duke's army who followed Edward in betrayal Siros: Desert tribesman, guard, killer of women and children. |
By lancellot
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of sexual content.
Paul wasn’t dead, and he hadn’t been reincarnated either. The one good clue he had to that was the unbearable pain coursing through his body. It was slightly more reassuring than the cold numbness he felt earlier, as bad as the pain was.
Unfortunately, he fully remembered his foolishness thinking he could grab Raymond and outrace the fire. The searing flames eating him alive laughed at brief sense of courage and duty. He felt blessed when last of skin burned away and the inhumanly agony went with it. When the darkness took him he wondered if another life and another womb awaited him.
He vaguely remembered hearing Crista and Rosetta's voices, and then, he was home again. It was the 4th of July weekend; his mother opened the door and screamed his name.
“Derick? Oh, thank you, Jesus.” She wrapped her thin arms around him and cried tears of joy onto his uniform.
“It’s good to be home, Ma,” he said, guiding her back into the house. “I missed you.”
Kisses adorned his face, and tears flowed freely. Soon enough, he was sharing stories of the hijinks he and his buddies got into. He was careful to edit out the gory and rated x parts. His mom was a God fearing woman.
When he'd finished, she told him about the neighbor’s dog, digging up her flowers, his cousin Kevon going back to prison, and how the girl he used to date still stops by to say hello and did he know she was divorced now. Derick laughed and promised if he had time, he would give Susana a call if only to thank her for checking on his mom. As things turned out, he didn’t have to make that call. Just before dinner, there was a ring at the door.
Derick opened the door, and there stood Susana, looking more beautiful than when he last saw her. Later she would confess the reason for that was she had just left the beauty salon. His mother had secretly texted her. Somewhere between several nights of lovemaking, Susana became his girlfriend again.
When Derick redeployed, they would skype every other day and write to each other the days in between. Derick wasn’t sure it was love, but it certainly was going in that direction. He was happy about that; Susana was pleased, and his mother was hopeful the laughter of children would once again fill her lonely home.
Then Derick was in pain. Green flares lit the night sky; terrible screams surrounded him. He and his squad were fighting for their lives. A flash blinded his eyes, and he smelled the flesh on his face cook. He remembered thinking, why is it so cold? Isn’t fire supposed to be hot?
After that, he was in a white room. He wasn’t sure if he was alive or dead, but he couldn’t move. There were people, who looked like doctors, but they didn’t have that; We’re going to take care of you, feel to them. What Derick was sure of was that he was afraid of them, very afraid.
Then he was in pain yet again, and he was hungry, but the hunger soon passed as he drank something delicious. It was warm and thick, like a vanilla smoothie. He was happy because he didn’t have to chew; he just had to suck. The more he drank, the better he felt, like he was literally putting on weight. In his mind, he saw himself as a plump baby.
Pretty soon, the pain was almost gone, and he could move a bit. His head rested on something softer and warmer than a pillow, and though he could move, he didn’t want to. This must be heaven, he thought. He reached his hand up and felt soft, warm skin. It felt so good it made him tingle below.
“I think he likes it,” came a soft feminine voice from the darkness.
Then curiosity surged within him as the voice didn’t sound like Crista. He let his hands roam a bit more, and the fullness under his fingers didn’t feel like Crista either. It was a woman and a much more blessed woman than his own. Finally, he realized he wasn’t dreaming and forced his heavy eyelids to open.
“Oh, the baby is awake,” came the same voice.
Things were blurry at first, but soon Paul’s vision focused on huge white breasts and dark areolas. He gave one last suck and then released his hold on the large nipple with an audible pop. He rolled his head flat on the woman’s lap and stared up into her smiling face.
“I think he’s much better now.” She looked to someone else. “I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.”
Paul tried to speak, but his throat immediately protested. He swallowed to clear his throat. “Who are you?”
The woman looked down at him. “Oh, you’ve forgotten me. I was one of the midwives who helped deliver you.” She looked down at his nude body. “And look how much you’ve grown.”
Paul felt his manhood throb, and he quickly looked down. He was indeed naked, and all of his skin was bright pink with an almost reddish tint as if he just peeled from the mother of all sunburns.
“Yes, he has.” A sheet was thrown over his body, making a tent at his groan. “So, you like them big, huh?”
Paul tried to sit up and immediately regretted it as his entire body sizzled. “Oh, damn.”
“Easy.” Rosetta was at his side, bracing him. “Slowly, Paul, you're still not… um… yourself.”
Paul carefully sat up on the bed and looked around as the midwife slid off. His mother, Crista, and a stunning woman he didn’t recognize were all smiling at him.
“Well,” said the midwife, fastening her dress to cover her breast. “As I felt a full set of teeth, I think my job here is done. I have,” she blushed slightly, “less excitable babies to feed.” She winked at Paul and then walked through the door.
Paul rubbed his hand over his head once and then twice. He looked at his mother.
“Yes, son, you’re bald, but I think, after what I’ve witnessed these past days, your hair will grow back quickly.”
Rosetta briefly left and then returned with a large bowl of soup and soft bread.
Paul had not noticed he was hungry until he bit into the bread; within minutes and asked for more. He was finishing his fourth bowl when he felt his eyes lids grow heavy. He fell asleep with the spoon in his hand and a chunk of bread between his lips. The ladies laid him back in the bed and blew out the lights. Paul didn’t hear Rosetta and Isabella leave, nor did he feel Crista climb into bed with him, but he smiled as she wrapped her arms around him. He drifted into another world feeling twice blessed.
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Paul Escamilla, 16 yrs old, Squire to Earl Reinhard. formerly, Derrick Williams, US soldier. reborn as Paul. Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier, 36 yrs old Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress, 35 yrs old Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. 50 yr. Crista Escamilla. Paul's 16 year old slave/wife Alfred 16, male, Watch cadet Twin brother of Algar Algar: 16, male, Squire to Earl Reinhard. Twin brother of Alfred Parcell Chambers: 16, male Squire to Earl Reinhard. Master Fenwick Dougal: 50s, former soldier in the Kingdom army, Watch instructor. Vetch Rawls: 45, master scout of the Watch. Desert tracker. Earl Raymond Charles Reinhard: 2nd son of his Grace Duke Cedric Reinhard III. Mayor John: Mayor of Florence, Minor noble Baron Lecher: Swordmaster to Duke Reinhard III Commander Barnes: Commander of the City Watch General Yosef Alexander: Commander of Duke Reinhard's Army. Marquise Edward Hall Reinhard: Eldest son of Duke Reinhard, half-brother to Earl Raymond Reinhard. Surgeon Nevin Vallis: Scientist, doctor, advisor to the Desert King. Isabella: female desert tribeswoman; attendant and guard to Edward, the desert King. Brada: Former soldier in the duke's army who followed Edward in betrayal Siros: Desert tribesman, guard, killer of women and children. |
By lancellot
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of sexual content.
Again, Paul dreamed. This time he was back in basic training. A drill sergeant went over basic explosives and the dangers of idiots playing with things they didn’t understand. The sergeant spoke fast, and Derick furiously wrote notes on the composition of gun powder, its discovery by alchemists, and all the lethal and non-lethal applications.
“When you celebrate the fourth of July or light a flare in the field, give thanks to the Chinese. Though it was accidental, those clever sons-of-bitches revolutionized modern warfare. Who knew a mixture of sulfur, saltpeter, and charcoal would end up killing more soldiers than Ghonorheia and Syphilis combined?” The drill instructor didn’t laugh, but the cadets did. They all knew of at least three people in the platoon who had to visit the medics for a shot in the ass after returning from leave.
Paul opened his eyes. He untangled himself from Crista and sat up. It took a moment to remember where and who he was, but he knew what he was, and what he had to do. Paul felt the top of his head and smiled. It was only about half an inch thick but not bald anymore. “Good enough,” he said and climbed out.
He looked back at Crista. She was still asleep. Paul thought that unusual. The girl must have been exhausted not to rise before he did. They took care of me. I genuinely have a great family. The twice blessed man I am, he thought.
Paul tried to be quiet, but the floorboards creaked when he walked to the door. He was reaching for the handle when he heard a voice behind him.
“Your mother and I don’t mind seeing you naked, but I don’t know about Isabella. After what happened with the midwife, I think she would cause even more of a reaction in you.” Crista was sitting in the bed. She was nude with only a sheet covering her legs.
Paul looked at his woman and felt heat rise in his body.
“Yes, it has been a long time, and you have fully recovered." Crista slowly climbed out of bed and walked to Paul. "It doesn’t take much, does it?” She playfully flicked his erection. “I know your body has needs; mine too, but I also know your duty comes first. Wait here, and I’ll bring your clothes.” She walked to the door.
Paul grabbed her arm. “Wait. My body alone does not speak for me. I have more to say. When I was dying, I called out. I thought no one could hear me, but then I heard your voice. My Crista, my love, my partner. You heard me. I know I wouldn’t be here if not for the many who love me, but it was your love I sought when all was dark. I should have said this long ago, and I almost died without doing it.”
“Master, you don’t have-”
Paul placed a finger on her lips. “Yes, I do. I love you, Crista Escamilla.”
“Oh, I love you too -- Paul.” Crista wrapped her arms around her husband and let the tears of joy she had been holding flow freely.
Paul easily lifted his woman into his arms and carried her back to his bed. "My first duty is wax that boo-"
Crista put one finger on his lips. "No more talk. A knight is a man of action. He takes what he wants. So take it. Take all of me."
Outside the room, Rosetta wiped tears from her eyes and set Paul’s clothes next to the door before turning away, knowing there is a time for mothers and a time for wives.
An hour later, after speaking with his mother, Paul and Crista were on the streets. Typically, his unusual outfit would garner attention, but with the problems at hand, the people hardly noticed him as they ran this way and that.
“Where are we going?” Crista asked, trying to keep up with Paul’s longer strides. “Your father and the earl are at the gate. The Desert King has been attacking since morning.”
Paul only nodded. His mind was elsewhere, and his eyes were scanning the storefronts for the place he had visited only once. He was told General Alexander was leading their soldiers, and he had nothing but confidence in his father. If what Isabella and his mom told him was correct, the odds were ten to one against them. Those were terrible odds under normal circumstances, but Edward’s knowledge and experience of kingdom tactics made things worse. The city needed an edge, something strong enough to tip the scales before the enemy breached the gates. Paul knew from his other life that there was no more brutal fight than city fighting. With both sides in close combat and civilians everywhere, defenders were limited, attackers weren't. If this war was to be won, it had to happen before the Marquise or whatever he was now calling himself broke through.
Paul suddenly stopped, grabbed Crista by the hand, and then ran across the street. Crista raised her eyes just in time to read the sign: “Harrison & Son, Alchemists.”
Paul and Crista entered the shop. Crista’s eyes opened wide and as she gawked at shelves and rows of rocks, crystals, powders, and plants of all kinds. She stopped and sniffed those she knew, but was wise enough to shy away from those she did not.
A short round man with a full black beard and bald head walked through a curtain at the end of the shop. He wore a thick leather apron over his protruding belly. Though his gut was large, the muscles of his arms and legs were larger. Despite his fearsome appearance, the man also wore a massive smile on his face when he saw Crista. The smile grew even wider when he saw Paul.
The ground seemed to shake as he stomped on the wooden floor, coming towards the pair. He opened his huge arms. “Ah, praise the three gods. Young Escamilla, I am so happy to see you. When I heard you were near death, I said no, not the Captain’s son. No, that boy is special; he will not let Lady Death take him, no sir. And, here you are. You’ve come to see old Patrisse.”
Paul hugged the big man and held back a moan from the pain of the man’s squeeze. “Master Patrisse, it is good to see you again.” Paul stepped back for introductions. “This is my wife-to-be, Crista. Crista, this is Master Patrisse, the greatest alchemist in Florence.”
The big man bowed. “Ah, I am the only alchemist in Florence. It is nice to meet your lovely bride even in these terrible times, but I think you are here for your special order, no? Follow Patrisse. I have much to be showing you.”
The alchemist led the couple through the shop. Crista leaned towards Paul. “Special order. How do you know this man? I did not know this shop was here.”
Paul smiled. “I came here with my father just before I entered the Watchmen’s Academy. We were buying supplies and a new sword. We also bought flowers that were intended for you. Sorry about that. Anyway, when I saw this shop, I had an idea about making a gun to go with my sword.”
“What’s a gun?”
“Hmm, never mind that right now. The point is, to make a gun work, you first need gun powder. So, I ordered the ingredients: saltpeter, sulfur, charcoal and explained the proper mixture to Patrisse” He laughed. “And since the shop is still here. I guess the Master heeded my warnings.”
Master Patrisse opened the door to the storeroom. “Here we are. I mixed them as you asked, and I keep in a cool, dry room.”
Paul’s mouth opened, and his knees nearly buckled. “Oh my God!”
The dark storeroom was filled with dozens of large barrels filled with the deadly black powder going back and disappearing in the shadowy recesses of the room.
Parisse smiled. "Ah, after a few tests, I may have gotten a little carried away in my excitement, but rest assured, I've told no one of your amazing discovery. I still get twenty percent of the gross, no?"
Crista peeked into the room. “It’s too dark. I’ll get a candle.”
“No!” screamed both men.
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Paul Escamilla, 16 yrs old, Squire to Earl Reinhard. formerly, Derrick Williams, US soldier. reborn as Paul. Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier, 36 yrs old Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress, 35 yrs old Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. 50 yr. Crista Escamilla. Paul's 16 year old slave/wife Alfred 16, male, Watch cadet Twin brother of Algar Algar: 16, male, Squire to Earl Reinhard. Twin brother of Alfred Parcell Chambers: 16, male Squire to Earl Reinhard. Master Fenwick Dougal: 50s, former soldier in the Kingdom army, Watch instructor. Vetch Rawls: 45, master scout of the Watch. Desert tracker. Earl Raymond Charles Reinhard: 2nd son of his Grace Duke Cedric Reinhard III. Mayor John: Mayor of Florence, Minor noble Baron Lecher: Swordmaster to Duke Reinhard III Commander Barnes: Commander of the City Watch General Yosef Alexander: Commander of Duke Reinhard's Army. Marquise Edward Hall Reinhard: Eldest son of Duke Reinhard, half-brother to Earl Raymond Reinhard. Surgeon Nevin Vallis: Scientist, doctor, advisor to the Desert King. Isabella: female desert tribeswoman; attendant and guard to Edward, the desert King. Brada: Former soldier in the duke's army who followed Edward in betrayal Siros: Desert tribesman, guard, killer of women and children. Master Patrisse: Town Alchemist and Paul's secret business partner. |
By lancellot
The sweat evaporated before it could run down Edward's face, but it wasn't because of the sun. His brother was hiding like a coward behind stone walls and an iron enforced wooden gate. No doubt his accursed father was there too. He knew the duke could not have rallied more than a thousand men, and his contacts in the capital told him any conflict in the duke's household would be considered a personal matter.
Edward didn’t care for the king, he knew the man was technically a cousin, but the king never raised a finger to protect the honor of Edward's mother. No, he didn’t blame the king for his mother’s death. That fault lay at his father’s feet and, by extension, his bastard brother. Edward knew full well that nobles and royalty in Valeria treated their women as no more than high-priced whores, objects to be sold off for political gain or to seal alliances.
His mother was sold to Duke Reinhard, and her family never cared a lizard's tail about her wellbeing. They didn’t give a rat’s ass about his either, beyond the occasional birthday present or gala invitation. If his father was guilty of murder, they were no better than accessories to the corrupt system that aided him.
They were all going to pay. Maybe not today but one day. Edward looked out at the roughly ten thousand men at his command. “Not today.” He glared at his advisor.
Vallis quickly found something that needed his attention and walked away. He had survived all these years by being both valuable and knowing when to disappear. After Edward received the report that most of his soldiers followed his military advisor’s command to relocate to their secondary campsite, he fed the messenger to the lizards, alive. Vallis knew who gave those bogus orders right away, but he didn’t answer Edward when he demanded to know how it happened. Instead, he suggested Edward send his fastest runner, or now his second fastest, to the camp as soon as possible. Edward did so, but they both knew it would take at least a week before the round trip was completed.
Edward might have waited. He might have dug in and prepared for a drawn-out siege, but while scanning the city walls, he saw him. Raymond stood alive and well, like a reigning prince, looking directly at him with a spyglass of his own. Then Raymond did the unspeakable. He smiled and waved to his brother.
Vallis knew what was coming. He briefly considered trying to talk Edward out of it but then he remembered the messenger’s screams as two ravenous lizards fought over his testicles.
The attack order was immediate and entirely out of the blue. Edward's men were disorganized and charged the gate in small groups instead of a solid force.
Raymond stood on the wall and never moved. He was not in command of the actual defense and was glad of it. General Alexander’s role for him was doing precisely what he just did.
“My Lord,” Alexander explained in the war council. “Even with ten thousand men, Edward’s forces are too great. He is intelligent and, when calm, a competent commander. We need him as far from calm as possible. Their army has no clear chain of command. Edward is a traitor; they can’t be trusted, and in return, they are slow to give trust. So, he has no one other than Vallis, who is not a soldier, to share power with. Disrupt Edward, and you disrupt his army.”
General Alexander coolly watched the bandits; he refused to call them soldiers, rush the gate. “The fools don’t even have shields.” He raised his arm. “So, it begins.” His arm dropped.
From their hidden positions behind the ramparts along the wall and above the gate, dozens of archers stepped out and fired volley after volley. The arrows blotted out the sun as they soared through the cloudless sky. Soon, screams filled the defenders’ ears, and blood muddied the ground at the attackers’ feet. At least two hundred men died in the first three minutes before Edward pulled his forces back.
Even as they retreated, Dominic ordered his long-distance archers to continue firing into their backs as long as possible. “This is war,” he cried. “Every dead enemy today is once less to slit your throat tomorrow.” That was what he said, but what he thought was that those are the bastards who tried to murder my son, they will pay.
Neither General Alexander nor his forces cheered. Edward was rash and angry, but he learned quickly. He soon ignored his brother’s presence and rapidly reorganized his men. Large wooden shields were brought out, and coordinated ranks formed.
Edward’s archers were good; they were used to hitting targets from a lizard or horseback, so firing from solid ground was child’s play to them. Their lines were in two-man teams. One held a shield while the other leaned out to fire. Their aim was so true they forced the defenders back behind the ramparts. Even when one of Dominic’s aces peeked, an arrow entering his eye was the last thing he saw.
Raymond had to seek cover as well; he was sure there was a massive reward for the man who could put an arrow through his eye. He quickly rejoined the general.
“We’re fine, my Lord. We’ll let them think they have us on the ropes for a bit, then have a few men go through the west passage in the wall and pepper their flanks.” Alexander turned to Dominic. “Captain, are the fire brigades ready?”
Dominic creped forward, careful to stay under his shield. “The water barrels are in place, and the oil is stowed below out of harm’s way.”
The General nodded. “Give the order for the lads to release the water. I want the gate and nearby buildings soaked before Edward tries to torch them.”
Dominic pointed to his aid.
Alfred stuffed two fingers in his mouth and whistled. Above the gate, men took axes to huge barrels, and water rained over the gate and every nearby wooden structure.
Down below, Edward watched the slow advance of his archers through the killing zone. He turned to Vallis. “We’re not moving fast enough or hitting that many. Have the archers torch the gate and fire into the town; if we can burn through, we can end this.”
Vallis relayed the order. The archers pulled back and changed out their arrows, while diggers and men with shields covered them as they made fire strips along the ground. Vallis ordered pitch run into the shallow ditches and then had them lit. The flame burned brightly in the coming dusk, signaling to the soldiers along the wall what was coming.
Raymond ran down the steps from the wall and shouted at his runners, “Have the fire brigades stand by and alert everyone for incoming fire. Clear the streets.”
Parcell and Algar ran off shouting at the top of their lungs. Raymond turned and believed he saw Algar return, but the uniform was different. It was Alfred. He thought for a moment, then motioned for the twin. “Go to the alchemist’s shop and ask Sir Paul for an update. And watch the skies.”
Alfred took off down the street, occasionally looking over his shoulder as he ran.
Raymond returned to the command post above the gate. There he found Alexander and Dominic. “General, I’ve sent a runner to check on Paul’s progress. It’s been nearly three hours, so he should be ready.” Raymond took a seat.
“Good, I hope whatever he’s cooking up works.” The general smiled at Dominic. “That son of yours already performed one miracle; let us see if the three gods will grant him another.”
“I believe they will. Rosetta always called him our miracle baby.”
The general tilted his head to the side. “Rosetta. I thought your wife's name sounded familiar when said it before.”
“Yes, she is Paul’s mother.”
The general looked at Raymond. “She wouldn’t happen to be the same Rosetta who stayed at the castle under Nevin’s care all those years ago, would she?”
Raymond smiled and nodded. “Ah, you remember her, General. She was the light of the castle for a short time. I remember her well, though I was but a boy. Dominic found her first. The lucky dog, but Paul favors his mother, so perhaps Paul is the luckier."
Raymond and Dominic laughed because it was true. Dominic was big, strong and a good man, but not what women would consider attractive. Rosetta was a rare beauty and Paul had grown into a very handsome young man because her.
Alexander was silent for a time as fire-arrows rained upon their shelter. By then, all the wooden structures of the gate and walls were well saturated, so he paid them no mind.
“And Paul, is about 17 now?” Alexander’s voice was low.
“Yes, he is, soon to be eighteen,” Dominic replied, a slight edge in his voice.
“What is it, General?” Raymond asked as his mind began to wonder why Paul’s age was significant.
Finally, Alexander looked up. “When I heard about your son’s recovery, at first, I thought, I had never heard of a miracle where death was all but certain, but then defeated. But that isn’t true. You’ve both heard of it happening once before, haven’t you?”
Both men shrugged and shook their head.
Alexander nodded. "Miracles made by the gods are remembered, those at the hands of men are soon forgotten. That is something once told to me by an old friend who performed more than one miracle in his time."
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Paul Escamilla, 16 yrs old, Squire to Earl Reinhard. formerly, Derrick Williams, US soldier. reborn as Paul. Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier, 36 yrs old Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress, 35 yrs old Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. 50 yr. Crista Escamilla. Paul's 16 year old slave/wife Alfred 16, male, Watch cadet Twin brother of Algar Algar: 16, male, Squire to Earl Reinhard. Twin brother of Alfred Parcell Chambers: 16, male Squire to Earl Reinhard. Master Fenwick Dougal: 50s, former soldier in the Kingdom army, Watch instructor. Vetch Rawls: 45, master scout of the Watch. Desert tracker. Earl Raymond Charles Reinhard: 2nd son of his Grace Duke Cedric Reinhard III. Mayor John: Mayor of Florence, Minor noble Baron Lecher: Swordmaster to Duke Reinhard III Commander Barnes: Commander of the City Watch General Yosef Alexander: Commander of Duke Reinhard's Army. Marquise Edward Hall Reinhard: Eldest son of Duke Reinhard, half-brother to Earl Raymond Reinhard. Surgeon Nevin Vallis: Scientist, doctor, advisor to the Desert King. Isabella: female desert tribeswoman; attendant and guard to Edward, the desert King. Brada: Former soldier in the duke's army who followed Edward in betrayal Siros: Desert tribesman, guard, killer of women and children. Master Patrisse: Town Alchemist and Paul's secret business partner. |
By lancellot
Then Dominic said, “My son is… unique, a miracle even; he has always been a fast healer all his life. My wife has never had to worry about--”
“And how about your, Rosetta?” Alexander leaned forward. “When was the last time she was ill? I would wager she hasn’t been sick either, not since a certain old friend of mine cured her of the Drowning some 18 years past.”
Captain Escamilla suddenly stood. He opened his mouth, then closed it and slowly sat back down. “I will speak openly with you gentlemen, but first, I would have your word that it goes no further.”
Alexander and Raymond both covered their hearts and swore nothing shared between would be shared with another soul.
Dominic took a deep breath and then slowly blew it out. “My son remembers being alive before, in a past life. I don’t mean he has feelings, as some folk claim. I mean, he remembers everything from his previous life, and always has, since birth. He came into this world, fully aware, like an adult in a child’s body. He knows things that no one else does. I believe he is finally using that knowledge now, and you’re correct. Paul and his mother have never been sick, at least not since she became pregnant. So long have I pondered this, and I believe that whatever Paul has, he passed to Rosetta as she carried him, or perhaps it is the other way around.”
Raymond nodded. “That would explain the spears he crafted, the strange clothes, and his knowledge of the tunnels, but his healing ability? Could that have passed from child to mother? I suppose anything is-”
“It was Nevin Vallis’ experiment.” Alexander turned and looked out into the night sky. “His crowning achievement, he called it back then. It all makes sense now. That’s why Nevin helped me escape. He wanted me here to prevent Edward from taking the city and killing the boy. He knows. He is Edward’s only advisor. He must have read reports from his spies about Raymond’s activities. Those would include the addition of new squires.”
“Wait, are you telling us, Surgeon Vallis, the old nutjob is alive and with my brother?” Raymond stared hard into the general’s eyes.
Alexander nodded. “They say fate weaves itself together, that it always ties loose ends.” He looked at Dominic. “Captain, you may not want to hear the rest. I tell you now; I do not know this for certain. I did not witness it, and Vallis may or may not have been telling the truth. I did not think he was at the time as he was drunk from celebrating, but now that I remember the rumors of the Castle back then concerning… no, I dare not say. Forget it. We have more pressing things, like surviving.”
Dominic was silent for a time, then he stood. “If you are afraid to tell me that Paul is not my… my true son, then you need not burden yourself. I have always suspected that since the day he was born. Though I do not believe Rosetta does, or rather, she does not wish to. How that could be, I have never known. I just knew that tiny baby did not resemble me, not in appearance or manner.
“I see. You must also have done the math as I have.” Alexander sighed. “As for how Rosetta does not know. You can blame Vallis for that.”
Dominic turned, and there was fury in his eyes. “I had heard that the duke’s surgeon had died at the hands of bandits. That spared me the conflict I felt over killing him or not. He cured my Rosetta and took her as his reward. Now that I know he lives, we will have a reckoning.
Alexander raised his hand. “No, Nevin cares not for the joys of the flesh. His obsession is with his experiments, and in that, he has no morals.” He turned to Raymond. “When drunk, he mentioned certain things… things about Edward. He mentioned regret over what he tested on Edward’s mother, her going insane, and then he mentioned helping him hurt you, Raymond. He said he put her to sleep and let Edward have his way with her. He said it was penitence for some crime he had caused Edward.” He turned to Dominic. “I swear by the three gods; I did not know he meant Rosetta, or I would have cut him down. He never mentioned her name. He fell asleep mumbling about her being so pretty, so very pretty.”
Raymond sat stock still. He slowly covered his face with his hands. When he pulled them away, there were tears in his eyes. “I said I loved her. I said I would marry her when I grew up. I was nine. I didn’t mean it. I knew she was already married, she told me so. She was so nice to me.” He rubbed his eyes. “Edward hated me, even then. One day, he taunted me. He said he…that he had taken Rosetta.” He looked up at Dominic. “I did not believe him. You must believe me. I thought he was trying to hurt me. I mean, she never said, never showed any signs that anything happened. She was happy, and she was looking healthier than she ever had. Who would have believed it? I didn’t. No one did. Edward always lied; always.”
Dominic said nothing. He looked down at Raymond and recognized pure pain in the man’s face. The earl had truly loved Rosetta as a child, and it was clear he still held her in high regard. He cared so much for Rosetta that he made her son his squire when he failed his duty to the Watch. And then he elevated Paul to a knight. “You are not to blame, my lord. The debt owed to my wife belongs to Edward and Vallis, and it is a debt I will see paid in this world or the next. I swear it.”
“My Gods!”
The three men quickly turned to the door of the command center and gasped as they saw Duke Reinhard and Sir Paul standing there. They did not know how long they were present, but one thing was crystal clear; it was long enough.
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Paul Escamilla, 16 yrs old, Squire to Earl Reinhard. formerly, Derrick Williams, US soldier. reborn as Paul. Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier, 36 yrs old Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress, 35 yrs old Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. 50 yr. Crista Escamilla. Paul's 16 year old slave/wife Alfred 16, male, Watch cadet Twin brother of Algar Algar: 16, male, Squire to Earl Reinhard. Twin brother of Alfred Parcell Chambers: 16, male Squire to Earl Reinhard. Master Fenwick Dougal: 50s, former soldier in the Kingdom army, Watch instructor. Vetch Rawls: 45, master scout of the Watch. Desert tracker. Earl Raymond Charles Reinhard: 2nd son of his Grace Duke Cedric Reinhard III. Mayor John: Mayor of Florence, Minor noble Baron Lecher: Swordmaster to Duke Reinhard III Commander Barnes: Commander of the City Watch General Yosef Alexander: Commander of Duke Reinhard's Army. Marquise Edward Hall Reinhard: Eldest son of Duke Reinhard, half-brother to Earl Raymond Reinhard. Paul's biological father. Surgeon Nevin Vallis: Scientist, doctor, advisor to the Desert King. Isabella: female desert tribeswoman; attendant and guard to Edward, the desert King. Brada: Former soldier in the duke's army who followed Edward in betrayal Siros: Desert tribesman, guard, killer of women and children. Master Patrisse: Town Alchemist and Paul's secret business partner. |
By lancellot
Duke Reinhard stood at the window in the mayor’s office, watching his people. Some were running to the gate carrying arrows or barrels of water, and still more were loading crying children onto carriages. He gave the evacuation order two days ago, but Florence was not a small city. It took time to get thousands of families out, and once they left, then what?
The duke designated his castle as a fallback shelter and Raymond’s estate a rallying point, but they were miles away, and many of the soon-to-be refugees were on foot. Suppose Florence fell, how long before his son’s bandits overtook them on the road or overran Raymond’s estate. He did not want to think of what horrors the tribesmen would inflict upon the victims they caught.
Duke Reinhard was a veteran of war and fought in many battles in his youth. He did not like to think of it, but he knew there was little difference between the actions of a kingdom soldier or a desert bandit when taking an enemy city, town, or home. He kept it to himself, but during the heat of battle and after he did things he was now ashamed of. Whenever poor foreigners came before his court, he always braced himself for that moment of recognition in their eyes. When their voice would choke and they cry out, 'You, you are the one who took my--' But so far that moment had never come. Maybe one day.
“Men are both angels and demons, but more often than not, we are demons.” He turned away from the window, and made himself walk to the desk that was now his. He looked around the small office that he had appropriated as well. The mayor had a map of his city, paintings of his wife and children, and items he was proud of. In a few hours, his son would probably turn all those things another man held dear into cinders. The worst part of it was that it was entirely his fault. He raised Edward to be the man he was. He ignored the anger and hatred growing within his son like a parasite taking over its host.
Could he have stopped it? Could he have spoken more to the boy? Explained harder how things were? How adults, men often did things that children can’t understand. He could have made the boy see that he loved his mother, and…. and what? What could he say? That he didn’t mean to have sex with another woman and destroy his marriage. Should he have told his son that he had only betrayed his mother once and by accident? That the other woman meant nothing to him? How could he do that when he not only married the woman, he brought her into his dead mother’s home, laid her in his dead mother’s bed, gave her his dead mother’s title, and then bore a son from the woman? Every day, a reminder of Edward’s pain paraded in front of his face and bade him call her mother.
“And what did his father do? I ignored it. I ran from it like the cowardly noble I am.” The duke suddenly noticed the contents of his desk were now on the floor. “When did I do that?” He had lashed out in rage but had no memory of it. Now my mind is running from every poor decision I make. “No more!” The duke rose from his seat and strode through the door.
Startled, his guards hustled to catch up to him, as the duke did not wait for them.
No more would he run from his mistakes. No more would he ignore his eldest son. He was sorry for the mess he made. Sorry for the pain he caused Edward, but sorry or not, he had a duty to take Edward's head. No more would others suffer for a sin he committed years ago upon a dead woman and a broken child.
The duke had never seen Raymond’s squires, but when he saw Paul exit the Alchemist’s shop dressed in odd black and green clothing, with a pretty girl at his side, he immediately thought of himself when he was a teen, and the more he looked at his face, he thought of Edward.
“You there!” he called and quickly crossed the street.
Anyone else crossing the road would have been struck by a carriage or pelted with a thousand choice words, but the duke had been in town for days, and everyone knew him by sight. So traffic instantly stopped, and people, even in a panic, dropped to their knees as he passed.
Paul had also never met his lord’s father, but he had seen paintings of the duke at the earl’s estate. Having been appropriately trained by Master Lecher, Paul and Crista quickly went to a knee. Paul groaned as soon as he went down; his body was not yet fully healed.
“Rise, rise, all of you rise.” Duke Reinhard raised his voice and turned in a circle. “There is no time for this. Hurry, everyone, hurry on your way.”
After a few gentle nudges from his guards, people rose and began to move along.
“By your colors, I take it you are one of Raymond’s young squires.” The duke carefully looked Paul over. “No, I am mistaken; by your flushed skin and short hair, you must be our newest knight come back from the brink, Sir Paul Escamilla. It pleases me to know that Dominic and Rosetta have produced such a fine young man.”
“Thank you, your Grace.” Paul made a slight bow.
“And this must be your wife-to-be, Crista. I have read the reports of your heroics at my son’s estate. Are you well, my dear?”
“Yes, your Grace.” Crista curtsied.
Paul turned to Crista and raised a thinly grown brow at her, not knowing what heroics the duke was referring to.
The duke finally noticed the cart filled with bottles and clay jars, each with a rage sticking out. The duke inhaled and detected the strange scent of a mixture he could not identify. “Yes, this must be the miracle Yosef spoke of.”
“Yes, your Grace. We’re taking them to the gate,” Paul said, sweat now running down his face.
“Not just you, son.” The duke motioned for his guards to step forward. He looked at Paul. “Are there more inside?”
“Yes, your Grace, two more.” Crista stepped up and spoke for Paul.
The duke nodded to his men. “Take these carts to the gate and be careful with them.” He looked at Crista. “I will escort Sir Paul to the gate with the rest. I would ask you to evacuate, but I can see in your eyes that you will refuse.”
“I’m going with Paul; he needs--”
The duke raised his hand. He turned to one of the guards, not pulling a cart. “Take the Lady Crista to wherever she wants to go, other than the front. If the gate should fall, get her to the castle as fast as you can.” He looked down at Crista’s frown. “And if she refuses, pick her up and carry her. The battlefield is no place for a lady.” He again raised his hand. “Yes, you are a fighter, but you are now nobility. Your place is protecting those women and children fleeing the city. As a knight has his duties, so does a lady. The suffering will need your strength in the days to come.”
“We should go, your Grace.” Paul gave Crista a quick kiss and a pat on the butt. “My mother went home to get a few things. Meet up with her and escort her to the castle.”
Paul didn’t wait for a replay. Instead, he, the duke, and his remaining guards hurried on their way. Paul wanted to look back, but he was afraid he would see Crista’s pouting face and give in to her. He understood her desire to want to be with family in times of trouble.
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Paul Escamilla, 17 yrs old, Squire to Earl Reinhard. formerly, Derrick Williams, US soldier. reborn as Paul. Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier, 37 yrs old Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress, 36 yrs old Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. 51 yr. Crista Escamilla. Paul's 17 year old slave/wife Alfred 17, male, Watch cadet Twin brother of Algar Algar: 17, male, Squire to Earl Reinhard. Twin brother of Alfred Parcell Chambers: 17, male Squire to Earl Reinhard. Master Fenwick Dougal: 50s, former soldier in the Kingdom army, Watch instructor. Vetch Rawls: 46, master scout of the Watch. Desert tracker. Earl Raymond Charles Reinhard: 2nd son of his Grace Duke Cedric Reinhard III. Mayor John: Mayor of Florence, Minor noble Baron Lecher: Swordmaster to Duke Reinhard III Commander Barnes: Commander of the City Watch General Yosef Alexander: Commander of Duke Reinhard's Army. Marquise Edward Hall Reinhard: Eldest son of Duke Reinhard, half-brother to Earl Raymond Reinhard. Paul's biological father. Surgeon Nevin Vallis: Scientist, doctor, advisor to the Desert King. Isabella: female desert tribeswoman; attendant and guard to Edward, the desert King. Brada: Former soldier in the duke's army who followed Edward in betrayal Siros: Desert tribesman, guard, killer of women and children. Master Patrisse: Town Alchemist and Paul's secret business partner. |
By lancellot
Alfred stood on the south wall watching the vultures and crows pick at the dead bodies beyond the gate. He wanted Edward’s bandits, that’s what the men called them, to collect the dead and give a proper burial. That’s what the seventeen-year-old boy in him wanted, but the watchman and aid to Captain Escamilla was dutybound to put an arrow into anything that didn’t have feathers. He had already sent three souls to the three gods that night, and he was pretty sure the last person seeking to move a body was a woman. “Gods, what’s the point of it all?”
“Good question.”
Alfred jumped, dropping his bow and nearly wetting himself. He quickly turned to see General Alexander standing behind him. “Sir, I… I didn’t see you, General. I was… I was just-”
“I know, son. I know. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Alexander stood beside Alfred and looked out at the fires of Edward’s camp. He sighed. “You are not the first lad to wonder what’s the point of war and death. Let me tell you a story of another young man who asked that very same question.”
And this is what he said:
It was the year 2589 of King Randolph’s reign.
Sir Blunt stood just outside the beaten and battered but still standing city gates. He inhaled the smokey, acrid air and let the sick coppery taste of dried blood and decay settle on his tongue before spitting.
Joseph saw his master’s thick wet phlegm coming his way at the last second and barely managed to jump aside in time. The boy briefly glared up at the knight before turning his young eyes out to what his mind could only describe as the Devil’s nightmare.
In the vast field outside the tall blacken stone walls surrounding the city were thousands of dead men, horses, and even a few war dogs. Months before, they were loyal subjects of the king, but now they were not worthy of being named.
Some men were still hanging on to the life force, but those surviving dogs once trained to attack their master’s enemies now turned their hunger and rage on the helpless soldiers before them. The only creatures in the field that showed the slightest mercy were the vultures; at least, they waited until death had taken a man’s soul. The dog gave no such quarter.
Sir Blunt walked through the pile of death and debris. Finally, he stopped at a one-legged soldier. The man had taken his nation’s colors and tied it around the stub where his knee used to be. It was a poor job. The knight watched the man leave an ever-widening bloody trail as he crawled to nowhere.
The boy stepped on a discarded arrow, snapping it in two.
The dying man turned his head and spotted the knight and his squire staring down at him. He extended a two-fingered hand. “Please, help me. I surrender. Help me.”
Sir Blunt pulled a spear from a nearby corpse and stepped to the soldier. “As you wish.”
“No!” Both the soldier’s suffering and screams ended after Sir Blunt drove the spear through the man’s heart.
The boy turned his head away as tears streamed down his pale cheeks. He wiped them away, but new ones instantly replaced them. Through the tears, he looked around and shook his head and cried out, “Why? I hate it. I hate it. What was the point? What was it all for?”
Sir Blunt did not turn back to look at his squire. He did not cry. He did listen, and by sound alone, he knew where Joseph stood. The back of Sir Blunt’s hand whistled through the air at amazing speed.
The boy only saw a momentary blur before his master’s thick knuckles crashed into his face, splitting open his top lip and adding new blood to an already saturated ground. The boy hit the ground hard. His eyes watered even more, and it took a few seconds for him to clear the stars and colors from his distorted vision.
“You are dismissed for the day. Take your bellyaching home. I will not entertain it this day or the next. When you get home and open your door, you will find the answer to your questions. Now go before I lose my patience.” Sir Blunt continued walking through the carnage, occasionally dispensing mercy to the suffering when needed; there were plenty of spears around.
Squire Joseph went straight home. His lip had crusted over, and the swelling had only begun. He opened his front door.
Joseph’s mother and his two younger sisters turned and immediately rushed to his aid. They tended his wound, brought him cool water, and his mother fed him lamb stew.
Joseph looked at his family, that since his father passed, were his responsibility, and new tears threatened to burst from his eyes. Then, with a fat lip and renewed resolve, he said, “Now I understand.” He pushed aside his bowl, took up his father’s sword, and walked to the door. He turned to his mother. “I’ll be back later. I still have a duty to perform.”
The general deeply inhaled and nodded. Then he stood in silence and watched the night sky.
Alfred took this to mean the story was over. He thought hard about what he had been told, and a single question arose in his mind. “General, were you the boy in that story?”
Alexander placed a surprisingly strong hand on Alfred’s shoulder. “Son, I was never a boy.” He moved a step closer to the edge. “The sun will rise in a few hours. You’ve done enough. Go and get some sleep. Tomorrow is the day the world changes.” He glanced back at an unmoving Alfred. “Go on. You are relieved.”
Alfred saluted and then turned to leave.
“Alfred,” Alexander called.
“Yes, General.”
“Tomorrow, bring a spear.”
Alfred swallowed. “Yes, Sir.” He turned, quickly descended the steps, and vanished into the darkness.
General Alexander rested his hand on the hilt of his father’s sword and waited for the sun to rise on a new day for him. The last for many more.
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Paul Escamilla, 17 yrs old, Squire to Earl Reinhard. formerly, Derrick Williams, US soldier. reborn as Paul. Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier, 37 yrs old Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress, 36 yrs old Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. 51 yr. Crista Escamilla. Paul's 17 year old slave/wife Alfred 17, male, Watch cadet Twin brother of Algar Algar: 17, male, Squire to Earl Reinhard. Twin brother of Alfred Parcell Chambers: 17, male Squire to Earl Reinhard. Master Fenwick Dougal: 50s, former soldier in the Kingdom army, Watch instructor. Vetch Rawls: 46, master scout of the Watch. Desert tracker. Earl Raymond Charles Reinhard: 2nd son of his Grace Duke Cedric Reinhard III. Mayor John: Mayor of Florence, Minor noble Baron Lecher: Swordmaster to Duke Reinhard III Commander Barnes: Commander of the City Watch General Yosef Alexander: Commander of Duke Reinhard's Army. Marquise Edward Hall Reinhard: Eldest son of Duke Reinhard, half-brother to Earl Raymond Reinhard. Paul's biological father. Surgeon Nevin Vallis: Scientist, doctor, advisor to the Desert King. Isabella: female desert tribeswoman; attendant and guard to Edward, the desert King. Brada: Former soldier in the duke's army who followed Edward in betrayal Siros: Desert tribesman, guard, killer of women and children. Master Patrisse: Town Alchemist and Paul's secret business partner. |
By lancellot
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
An hour before dawn, Duke Reinhard assumed command of the forces protecting his region. He did not take this action because he had no faith in General Alexander. He did it because when one is about to order the death of a Duke’s son and the king’s cousin, one had better be in line for the crown himself. Besides that, Reinhard knew his actions caused the war, and it only made sense that his actions end it.
The sky was a deep shade of purple. Somewhere to the east, the sun reluctantly broke his nightly embrace of Mother Earth and wearily rose for work.
The duke raised his hand. He looked to his right, and catapults along the wall readied their torches to light the rags on their jars. He quickly looked left, and those on his left did the same. Then his eyes narrowed, and his head tilted to one side as he gazed into the rising sun. His hand instinctively went to his brow. “What is that?”
One of the duke’s guards came to his side, and he, too, stared into the looming sun. “They... look like… like birds, my lord. Really big… birds.”
The duke’s eyes went wide. “By the Gods. No!” He turned his eyes to the men along the wall. “Get to-”
A resounding thump and the sound of air escaping a bag filled the duke’s ears. He turned to his left to see a small shaft embedded in his guard’s chest. It was quickly followed by second and third. The guard fell. Duke Reinhard felt a sharp pain in his thigh and he too crumpled. As he fell, he filled his lungs and shouted, “Aerials!”
Out of the blinding sun, they swooped down in waves of five, six, seven; it was difficult to tell. The sky was filled with small slender men firing crossbows while floating on giant wings.
Men along the walls scrambled and fell in panic as death came out of the sun. The aerials were quick and accurate. They yelled no battle cries. They shouted no curses. They gave no warning. They dived, looped, and strafed the defenders along the wall without care or mercy.
This does not mean the scene was silent, far from it. Defenders screamed while dying, yelled out warnings when they briefly glimpsed the fast-moving assassins. For assassins is just what they were.
***
In his command tent, Edward howled in ecstasy as his father went down. He jumped into the air, almost knocking poor Valis to the ground. “How do you like that, Father? Ha! You never saw that coming, did you?"
Valis took several steps back to keep from being injured. He stared at the highly paid killers as they expertly picked men off the walls. He looked at Edward. “We must be ready, my king. The aerials do not carry large amounts of weight. They will exhaust their ordinance soon, or someone may figure a way to--”
A loud crack of thunder cut Valis off. His eyes and Edward’s both turned to the cloudless blue sky as another boom echoed in their ears. Strong men gasped as hundreds of bloody feathers drifted down on the wind. All smiles and laughter in the command tent fell as dark acrid smoke filled the air and assaulted noses.
***
Paul and Parcell ran along the walls in different directions lighting homemade bombs and slinging them into the air, while Alfred and Algar held massive shields over their heads.
General Alexander sprinted up the stairs along the wall with a shield carrying Dominic at his side. Alexander pulled, shoved, and kicked his men back to their positions. “Man, the catapults, you damn dogs.” He spun in a circle. “Archers, where are my damn archers?”
But there was no need. As quickly as they came, the remaining Aerials scattered and fled the battle.
“General, they're retreating.” Dominic pointed to aerials quickly becoming dark specks on a blue canvas.
“Aye, the winged bastards are paid assassins, not soldiers. They have no stomach for a prolonged battle. Edward wasted his gold if he thought they would--” He ran to the edge of the gate and looked down. “Gods!”
Down below, thousands of bandits carrying ladders, ropes, and hooks approached the wall. Hundreds of mounted lizards followed them.
Edward watched in silence as the aerials died and then fled. He didn’t care; he had always thought the small bird men were creepy. Their women were exotic to look at but too fragile for his sexual needs or those of his men. The aerials had no allegiance to any land walkers, but gold was another thing. Besides, their job was not to win the battle, only to distract Alexander, while his troops got into position.
“Go. Bring the gate down so that I may care for my injured father.”
Valis heard Edward, but he knew the man was not speaking to him, only the demons that ate at his dark soul. Valis had other things on his mind. He saw the explosions that drove the assassins away, and he was worried.
While Edward watched his men streak to the wall, Valis quietly slipped from the tent, also talking to himself. "They smell like my flares but burn differently. How is their fuel different so that it instantly explodes? What if they have more? Can they deliver them this far out? If so, then--"
*****
With the bolt removed and his thigh bandaged, Duke Reinhard leaned on one of his guards. He refused all suggestions of leaving. Instead, he stood with Alexander as the bandits threw their wooden ladders against the wall. He looked to the men now back at their posts on the catapults and those holding torches. “Kill them. Kill them all."
The twang of drawstrings and the snap springs echoed across the wall. Small trails of smoke drew lines as bombs streaked through the air.
Men on the walls dropped individual jars over the side and then ducked behind shields. They were warned what to expect, but nothing compared to what they witnessed.
The explosions hit like fists made of wind and fire. Eardrums shattered below and above the gate. A sickening mixture of burning sand, glass, bone and blood painted the walls and saturated the ground. Terrified men fell from their busted ladders and into rising flames.
In Edward’s camp, men raced from blazing tents only to run straight into glass jars exploding in their faces. Burning horses and scorched lizards pulled up their stakes. The ensuing stampede trampled the wounded and the slow as the injured animals ran into the desert to feed the vultures and the spiders who watched from a distance.
Standing above the gate, young Algar looked out upon the horror. His breath caught in his throat as he watched a once beautiful woman frantically shedding her flaming clothes, only to reveal blackened, cracked flesh beneath. Then, with a single tear escaping his eye, Algar pulled back the string of his bow and let an arrow fly. How he struck the suffering woman at such a distance, only the gods know. Algar was grateful when she collapsed and did not move again.
Five minutes into the bombings, some tribesmen walked in a daze through burning grass and shrubs. Many fell screaming as their skin flaked off; others cried out in pain, struggling to remove nails from their flesh. Sir Paul packed nails into the gun powder of a few jars to enhance the effectiveness. It worked.
Still, others couldn’t hear anything at all. Those jars not delivering death exploded much too close to ears unaccustomed to explosions of any kind. Those men would never hear again. Modern warfare had come to Valeria.
Alexander never imagined Paul’s inventions could win the war. At best, he hoped they would give them an edge or make Edward cautious. Paul gave him a general description, but the results were far more horrible than his mind could fathom.
Where the bombs didn’t fall, Dominic, perched atop the walls, had his archers fire at bewildered tribesmen. He smiled with each death, imagining that was the one who hurt his boy.
An hour after the duke’s attack, the land outside the gate resembled a painting of hell. Those men who had not fled into the waiting desert did not only because they needed two legs to run, and they were short one or two. Finally, Alexander ordered the gate opened, and his troops spilled out into the smoldering field to grant mercy to the dying.
Sometime after that, the command staff toured what was left. No man spoke a single word because no man had ever seen destruction on such a scale, aside from Paul.
Paul looked at the blackened earth, and for a moment, a long moment. “Those who do not learn from the past are doomed to repeat it,” he whispered.
“What was that?” Parcell asked.
“Just a bit of wisdom I had forgotten.”
“Your Grace,” Master Rawls shouted from a spot at the end of the field.
Duke Reinhard using a wooden staff, hurried over. “Is it my--” His voice cracked, “Have you found the enemy’s commander?”
Rawls pointed to several things on the ground. “I…don’t, no, I don’t see any bodies.” Rawls motioned to three of his scouts, and they began to scour the ground around the destroyed tent.
Ten minutes later, Rawls returned. “I’m afraid it appears that Edward and a few others near the limit of our range escaped.” He pointed to unburnt grass. “The first volley didn’t make it out this far; neither did the second. That gave him time to understand the danger and withdraw.”
General Alexander nodded. “Yes, with the battle lost, Edward would have retreated. Remember, he only had ten thousand men here. He still has at least another fifty thousand at his secondary camp.” Alexander paused. “But, without knowing how or what we did. I expect him to hold through the coming winter and lick his wounds.”
“No.” The duke stared off into the distance. “He will attack the other desert clans. He lost here, and the sting of defeat will threaten his leadership. Edward must give his people a victory or risk rebellion.” The duke sighed. “We won’t see my son for some time, but we will see him again.”
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Paul Escamilla, 17 yrs old, Squire to Earl Reinhard. formerly, Derrick Williams, US soldier. reborn as Paul. Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier, 37 yrs old Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress, 36 yrs old Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. 51 yr. Crista Escamilla. Paul's 17 year old slave/wife Alfred 17, male, Watch cadet Twin brother of Algar Algar: 17, male, Squire to Earl Reinhard. Twin brother of Alfred Parcell Chambers: 17, male Squire to Earl Reinhard. Master Fenwick Dougal: 50s, former soldier in the Kingdom army, Watch instructor. Vetch Rawls: 46, master scout of the Watch. Desert tracker. Earl Raymond Charles Reinhard: 2nd son of his Grace Duke Cedric Reinhard III. Mayor John: Mayor of Florence, Minor noble Baron Lecher: Swordmaster to Duke Reinhard III Commander Barnes: Commander of the City Watch General Yosef Alexander: Commander of Duke Reinhard's Army. Marquise Edward Hall Reinhard: Eldest son of Duke Reinhard, half-brother to Earl Raymond Reinhard. Paul's biological father. Surgeon Nevin Vallis: Scientist, doctor, advisor to the Desert King. Isabella: female desert tribeswoman; attendant and guard to Edward, the desert King. Brada: Former soldier in the duke's army who followed Edward in betrayal Siros: Desert tribesman, guard, killer of women and children. Master Patrisse: Town Alchemist and Paul's secret business partner. Pays 10 points and 52 member cents (and maybe more). |
By lancellot
Valis did all he could to contain his glee on the ride through the desert. He watched Edward go from shock to fury to regret and then nothing. Valis was sure his majesty was at a loss over what he witnessed, but Valis was not at a loss. He had a pretty good idea of what happened and who did it. Before that last bomb, aided by the wind, knocked him on his ass, and Sabina dragged him away, he had known. It was something he briefly wondered about when he fashioned his alcohol-fueled flares. Still, as he was interested in signaling men at the time and not killing them, he didn’t pursue the thought.
Valis pulled his scarf over his mouth as he could not hold back his smile. It was him. It was Rosetta and Edward’s boy, Paul. It had worked. His experiment had worked, he thought as he struggled to suppress his laughter. All he had to do now was find that room again and retrieve the others. Yes, there are four more there. If only I had the time before. I could’ve gotten more than two. I must find it again; I must, I must.
Sabina, who was riding ahead of Valis, looked back to check on him.
Valis waved to the woman, and she waved back. She had saved his life. He owed her a debt. At that moment, he decided he would repay her by making her the mother to his next past-man, and this time he would father and raise the child.
*****
They were all guests in the duke’s castle and treated as nobility. The Reinhard family and the Escamilla family talked for a long time. There were tears, doubt, rejection, apologies, and then finally acceptance.
Rosetta had done most of the crying, but surprisingly everyone had shed more than a few tears too. Crista didn’t know what to think and mostly stayed silent. She held Paul’s hand and hoped that was enough.
In the end, the evidence, and Rosetta’s hazy memory, that she had long convinced herself was only a nightmare, could not be denied. They all agreed, at least for the moment, nothing would be made public aside from informing the king. Duke Reinhard explained, he had an obligation and a duty to report Paul’s true lineage to the king. As Edward’s son, he was also related to the king, not to mention in-line for the duke’s position. Technically, as Cedric’s first-born son, Edward was his legal heir. This placed Paul ahead of Raymond in the line of succession. But, not surprisingly, Paul insisted that Raymond be named heir before him.
After a fiery discussion, the duke and Raymond reluctantly agreed to Paul’s wishes, for now. Of Paul’s reincarnation, no one else would know. Dominic and Rosetta were correct about that much. Reincarnation bordered on magic, and that was the domain of the Church of The Three Gods. Duke Reinhard confirmed, even nobility trod carefully with the Holy Mother. It would be wise if Paul avoided her notice.
After the meeting, Duke Reinhard led Dominic and Rosetta to his study to speak alone. He dropped to one knee before Rosetta and gently took her hand in his. “I beg your forgiveness. What I allowed Edward to take from you is beyond words.” He looked to her husband with tears now falling from his eyes. “Dominic, you once entrusted me with what you hold most dear, and I failed. I cannot take back what was done, but if it is within my power to grant. You need only ask, and this time I will not fail you.”
Dominic shook his head. “My wife is alive and well, and my son. Yes, Paul is my son and also your grandson. I have already repaid the man responsible as much as I needed to. There is no more anger in my heart. I cannot think of any--”
“A baby.” Rosetta squeezed the duke’s hand. “I love my son. I always will, but-” She looked at Dominic. “Paul was never a baby; not really. I want that experience. I need that.”
The duke rose and shook his head. “I understand, but the procedure given to common women cannot--"
Rosetta smiled. “Oh, I recovered from that days after it was done. I never spoke of it, for obvious reasons.”
The duke was silent for a moment. “Ah, I see, but it is still not within my power to break the King’s Law. No common woman may--” He shook his head. “No! Come to court tomorrow morning. I have an idea.”
~
The following day Duke Reinhard sat on this throne and presided over his Regional Court, this time with Raymond at his right hand, and beside him stood a nervous-looking Sir Paul.
When all the petitioners and nobility had been ushered in, Duke Reinhard rose from his seat. “Before we begin, I have something to say. Our people have gone through a traumatic ordeal. We have lost many fathers, sons, brothers, and husbands. But we are a strong people, made that much stronger by the heroic deeds of those men who gave their lives, the men and women standing before me now and others still recovering. But, first, let it be known that I renounce my son, Edward Reinhard. His lands, wealth, and title have been stripped and reassigned. Should he ever show himself within my domain, he is to be executed on sight. His treasonous actions can never and will never be condoned or forgiven. Therefore, let none utter his name in these halls again.”
There was an immediate murmur from the people. Duke Reinhard raised his hand for silence.
He went on, “My son Raymond Charles Reinhard, having distinguished himself in battle and having honored his family and his friends through his actions and loyalty, is raised to the rank of Marquise and named my immediate heir.”
A roar of cheers erupted, and nearly all present called out Raymond’s name. There were some whispers about the duke’s use of the word, immediate. The Duke let the people have several moments before once again raising his hand.
“But my son was not the only hero of the kingdom. Therefore, I command Captain Dominic Escamilla of the City Watch of Florence to step forward.”
Multiple people looked around, and even Dominic and Rosetta looked at each other.
Having been summoned, Dominic walked in front of the duke and kneeled.
The duke looked down. “Dominic Escamilla, you have demonstrated courage and honor in two wars now. Each time you have fought and led men in successful defense of this kingdom and the city of Florence, which I love.” The duke drew his sword. “In the name of his majesty the king. I, Duke Cedric Reinhard the Third, anoint thee, Sir Dominic Escamilla, knight of the Kingdom of a Valeria, and defender of the people. Rise, Sir Dominic. Congratulations to you.” The duke winked at him. "And, to the Lady Rosetta. May your noble family be blessed."
Cheers rang out from all the commoners and more than a few of the nobles. Many had never seen a common man knighted before, but all knew of Dominic’s actions in the last war and his service since.
For the next few hours, the duke handed out medals, commendations, and promotions to soldiers and city watchmen who fought and protected the city of Florence. Raymond also made one promotion. As Paul was a knight, Alfred was made his third squire, and Parcell was chosen as Lead Squire.
After the hall had been emptied and only the Marquise’s squires, Baron Lecher, General Alexander, his new assistant, Isabella, the Escamilla family, and the Reinhard family remained.
Duke Reinhard granted Paul the title of Earl and gave him Edward’s former lands, wealth, and estate. After all, with Edward dead in his eyes, they were all Paul’s by birthright.
Paul tried to decline, but a swift elbow to the ribs from Rosetta shut him down. She leaned in and whispered in his ear. “Do this for his Grace. He lost a son. Let him gain a grandson in return.” She smiled. “Besides, our family has grown and will only get larger. We will need the space.” Rosetta winked at Crista.
Paul bowed before the duke. “I humbly accept, Grandfather. I shall not fail you or our family.”
The duke cleared something from his eyes before continuing, “Now, we have but one last bit of business.” He turned a hard face to Paul. “Taking a woman’s weight is an honored tradition, but as a noble, more official measures are called for. I think three days hence is a good day for a wedding.” He turned to Crista. “What do you think, my lady?”
Crista smiled. “I think right now is better, if you don’t mind, your Grace.”
The duke laughed. “Don’t you want your family to come?”
“They're already here,” Crista replied.
He looked around to a sea of smiling faces and then added one more. “So true. Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to begin another life..."
| Author Notes |
Characters so far:
Paul Escamilla, 17 yrs old, Squire to Earl Reinhard. formerly, Derrick Williams, US soldier. reborn as Paul. Dominic Escamilla. Paul's new father, Soldier, 37 yrs old Rosetta Escamilla. Paul's new mother, Seamstress, 36 yrs old Duke Reinhard. Ruler of the Southern district. 51 yr. Crista Escamilla. Paul's 17 year old slave/wife Alfred 17, male, Watch cadet Twin brother of Algar Algar: 17, male, Squire to Earl Reinhard. Twin brother of Alfred Parcell Chambers: 17, male Squire to Earl Reinhard. Master Fenwick Dougal: 50s, former soldier in the Kingdom army, Watch instructor. Vetch Rawls: 46, master scout of the Watch. Desert tracker. Earl Raymond Charles Reinhard: 2nd son of his Grace Duke Cedric Reinhard III. Mayor John: Mayor of Florence, Minor noble Baron Lecher: Swordmaster to Duke Reinhard III Commander Barnes: Commander of the City Watch General Yosef Alexander: Commander of Duke Reinhard's Army. Marquise Edward Hall Reinhard: Eldest son of Duke Reinhard, half-brother to Earl Raymond Reinhard. Paul's biological father. Surgeon Nevin Vallis: Scientist, doctor, advisor to the Desert King. Isabella: female desert tribeswoman; attendant and guard to Edward, the desert King. Brada: Former soldier in the duke's army who followed Edward in betrayal Siros: Desert tribesman, guard, killer of women and children. Master Patrisse: Town Alchemist and Paul's secret business partner. |
By lancellot
“Sir Paul, my Lord,” the little man shouted, running down the main corridor of the Escamilla estate.
Paul stopped and searched his mind for the man’s name. “Yes, um-”
“Willard, my Lord. Your head craftsman.” The man held out a small canvas bag. “I did it, my Lord.”
Paul carefully took the bag, reached inside, and pulled out the shiny black crystal box with golden hinges. Paul found the black box in the forgotten subway tunnels months ago.
The craftsman was bubbling with excitement. “It’s not glass, my Lord. I think… and I can’t be sure, but I think-” He quickly looked around to see if they were alone, then whispered, “I think it is black diamond.” His hands flew to his mouth as if he had just blasphemed. Then he pointed to the hinges. “And these may look like gold, but they’re not, at least not entirely. I’m not sure what it is because I can’t scrape off a sample.” He quickly shook his head. “Not that I was trying to take some, my Lord, I was just… just-”
“I understand.” Paul investigated the keyhole, then turned the box over and nodded. “Wonderful work, Willard. It looks brand new.”
“Do you have the key?”
Paul did, but he wasn’t going to tell Willard. So instead, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a gold coin, and placed it in Willard’s hand.
“Thank you! Thank you, my Lord. Thank you!”
“You’re welcome, Willard. Have a good day, now.” Paul turned and hurried to his chambers to the retreating sound of Willard madly giggling at his new wealth.
Paul found Crista inside, opening the drapes and letting sunlight fill their room. He almost said, “We have servants for that.”
But Pam and the others were Crista’s friends, and she didn’t like making them do things she could do herself. So there was much they both had to learn about nobility.
Crista saw the box in Paul’s hand. “Is that the box you found? How did you get it so clean?”
He walked to his dresser and opened the top drawer. “Willard did it, and I have no idea how.”
“Well, open it.”
“I am, I am,” said Paul, finally finding the golden key.
He sat on their bed with Crista and slowly slid the key in. Paul held his breath as he turned it.
The lock clicked as if it had been waiting a lifetime to do just that, and in a way, it had. Paul cracked the top, and a slight waft of air was sucked inside. “Vacuumed sealed.”
“What?” Crista asked.
“I’ll explain later.” Paul opened the lid, and then he and Crista simultaneously gasped.
“Wait, it’s just a little book,” Crista said, disappointment weighing her voice. “I thought it would be something valuable.”
Paul lifted the book and read the gold embossed name on the cover. “For Jessica, it was.”
Under the book was a thin golden pen, two small diamond stud earrings, and what looked like a silver credit card with a black picture of an apple stamped on it. All the items sparkled in the sunlight. He put the box aside and opened the diary to a random page.
Crista squinted at the pages. “What language is that?”
Paul wiped away a tear. “It’s English.”
“Inglosh? Can you read it?”
| Author Notes | Well that's all folks. I want to thank all those you read and helped me with this story. FanStory members have been wonderful. I appreciate all the reviews during this year long journey. |
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