~Brynn Steele
)0(
A Ranger's Tale
)0(
“Moggray,
why do you look so sad?”
I stare
at the foolish girl who has yet to understand the impending doom. Quite decent
looking, but I’ve seen better. This is a daughter belonging to Leric Rahm, an
enemy of our Empire. As the cold autumn wind starts assailing the silent park, I’m
reminded of what a soldier should do. Lying, cheating, and stealing just to
obtain one hard earned victory, that’s the greatest bullshit ever.
“War is
upon us, Yriss. Run away swiftly as you can, for bloodshed knows no tomorrow.”
“Huh?
Moggray, you’re speaking funny!”
Oh fuck,
there comes the signal for war. A screaming hawk soaring midair with talons
impaling a dead hare… Moggray Tonn, you’re gonna die alone and without a coin,
I’m sure of this.
)0(
The hardened veteran from Teesside sat up from his
bed, orbs of greying steel taking a glimpse or two at bustling life outside
below. He had believed the thrice damned war was already over nineteen winters
ago, one man’s wish could never change the world. He remembered the horrors
brought forth by war, blood spilt and helpless screams taunting his inner
world.
Hey,
Moggie! Yar late! No bitches left for ye, sorry to break it to ya!
With a roar shaking the surrounding peaceful calm, the
Northern Lion threw a nearby vase out from the window pane. Spiteful bitterness
cursing those causing Yriss Rahm her tragic fate, Moggray Tonn’s sole enemy
became himself. He loathed the fact that he’s now lodging in a brothel, he
detested seeing girls around Yriss’ age selling themselves. All for the sake of
what, the jaded lion questioned his own reflection within a bronze mirror tall
and mocking.
“You and
my love have arms and honour, the girls and I only have tits and nothing else.”
“If you got a problem with that, it means you have a
problem with reality,” grumbled Moggray darkly, Gemma’s words last night not
lost on him. Having nary of a problem with that old hen, the ex-Gaffer’s struggle
was a fire burning against his ilk. Or was it a fire incinerating himself
instead?
Sorry,
boss. I tried, but Yriss… I’m afraid she’s already...
An aging soul baptised by a deluge of self-derision,
this was one of Southgate’s very few sombre moments. Moggray understood his
second only too well, that Southgate Garatt was extremely easy to read even by
a stranger’s standard. Frustration bringing trouble till no end, Moggray
decided to take a bite downstairs. But not before a thoughtful jape surely
sardonic.
Hopefully with no tits bared…
)0(
Morning was a blanket of rain, stoves of stone made merry
meal after meal. So long empty stomachs exist, breakfast will not be far away.
Teesside always had to endure cold and rain, its folks forced to learn the
meaning of strength. For Southgate Garatt, a growling stomach means a happy
stomach…
“You’re eating like some professional glutton,
Southgate love. Some things never change,” sighed Gemma wistfully, “Some people to be exact.”
“Can you blame me for your cooking skills?”
complimented the stocky brunette, his mouth still partially filled, “You’re
especially good with bacon and eggs. Which is what I’m eating now.”
“Fuck it, Southgate,” Gemma threw her arms up in
resignation, “Since when should I love some common swine incapable of basic
manners? Go wash your own dishes after you’re done. I’m off to check on Joyce.”
As Gemma walked off to a corner, Southgate discovered
how much Pleasure Bode remained the same since that fateful split.
Pleasure
Bode. There, I’ve named it. And please don’t ask me when I’ll demand payment.
Take it as some deal too good to pass up.
“Fuck you, Parns,” snorted Southgate in good humour,
“Whatever happens to Teesside’s iconic smuggler all those years back?”
)0(
“I’m not lying!” protested a young girl pretty and
with raven hair reaching down her back, “His cock is that big!”
“Who has a big cock? I’m interested to know,” chimed a
voice all too familiar, “Care to enlighten this old hen here?”
As the girls shuffled out nervously, young Joyce was
left to her own devices. Giggling sheepishly, the girl of sixteen winters
displayed a jangle of nerves. Gemma was always a kind matron to everyone, even
Joyce’s occasional escapades failed to faze her. This time round, however, she
was talking about some free loader. And Gemma normally wouldn’t entertain
unwanted bums.
“Ah… it hurts, old hen!” exclaimed Joyce, a painful
wince indicating the force Gemma used to twist her ear.
“Does it hurt? Good.”
Her pain promptly relieved, Joyce could only rub
gently her red sore ear. Gemma opted to look on with arms folded, her glances
flirting with the main square’s mundane surroundings. Everything was simply
arranged, there were no expensive flowers cultivated or exotic ferns dangled
around. Only plain vases made from clay and cheap budding flowers lined a set
of wooden terraces, the one other prominent sight being a stone pavilion worn
out by merciless years.
“I’m not talking about those two geezers,” whined the
lass, “I’m talking about Ithi’s love!”
“Ithi? What has she done this time round?” Gemma
raised an eyebrow upon voicing her concern, “Did anyone commit some untoward act?
I swear that girl can be gullible at times.”
“Most of the time,” corrected Joyce, Gemma
reciprocating her favour with a glower hard as granite.
“I don’t like tales being told, so spit it out, little
girl.”
“Well,” Joyce began blushing fiercely, her index
fingers fidgeting with each other, “It’s just an accident. I swear I didn’t
peep at Ithi and that man conducting business for free.”
“Good then,” nodded the old hen.
“Huh? You mean…”
“I’m not fine with horny men taking advantage of
Ithi,” Gemma cut off whatever statement Joyce intend to make, a casual severing
gesture more than suffice to send home her point, “If it’s other men, I would
snip off their berries and hang them on an apple tree. Not that young lion
though.”
“You mean Guy?” gushed a puppy eyed Joyce, “I mean…”
“…he’s taken, Joyce. Even Jenn knows that.”
“But Jenn is our watchdog, not one of us!”
“A bitch accustomed to enjoying her heat. I know that
sounds insulting, so do you mind checking when her next litter is due?”
“I hate you!”
Gemma chuckled mirthfully, the sight of Joyce sticking
out her tongue filling her with plentiful mirth. Joyce was her own daughter,
which mother would dare say she doesn’t understand what’s going on?
“Joyce, I know you like Guy Cody, I also know you want
his cock.”
)0(
With noon creeping near, the sun was finally out. From late morn till early dusk, this was to be the only constant period where folks are able to enjoy sunshine. Ale both pale and dark flowed freely, boisterous merry making resounded with impunity.
‘Wait, so you fucked her?” gasped Biggan, a green grubby hand slapping a serving wench’s shapely butt.
“Stop that,” snapped an irate Guy, his hand tightening its grip on a half full tankard, “I know you have a big gun, but no point showing off your horny glory.”
“Erm, did I?” asked the annoying Goblin, an innocent façade barely disguised.
“No point letting others beholding your gun,” hollered a lazy drawl, “As somebody understanding bitches, I can assure you nothing good comes out of this.”
Her arrogant swagger unmistakably true, the one eyed
Half Elf pulled a wooden stool away from some unsuspecting patron. Paying
little interest to the resultant guffaws and a cursing woman forcibly held
back, Guy’s object of displeasure made herself at ease.
“Why such a dirty look?” smirked the impudent redhead,
“I prefer my boys to be tame.”
“Because you delayed our voyage by two cycles!”
snarled a lion with patience frayed, “Listen, bitch…”
“No more of this nonsense,” licking her lips
flagrantly, the voluptuous Half Elf knew how to play her game, “Or I’ll fuck
you thrice tonight. Is that your threat? You make me want to fuck a lion.”
“Hate to break this to you, big tits Lara, but you’re
lucky that pretty ass girl ain’t snooping around,” grinned Biggan as he joined
in the fracas, “Guy’s a gentleman without manners.”
“Bah!” scoffed Lara, “That royal good girl is waiting
to be bad and we both know how hard our bravest lion gets whenever his Lady
Karen shows her ass.”
If there was any reaction from the sandy blond apart
from fiery loins stirring, he merely suppressed it with a guttural growl. He
remembered Aeranath, he recalled how that thrice damned Ranger whistled
suggestively behind Karen. Lastly, he recounted those damning words.
Is it a
sin to appreciate a fine piece of ass? I’m a man, same goes for you. Unless
you’re gay, there has to be a positive response somewhere.
“Enough of your bullshit!” snapped the Kalaran youth,
a sheer force of will being the only factor restraining his pulsating heart,
“When can we start the sails? Answer me or begone!”
Begone to
your bed naked and with my ripe tits hanging? Sounds tempting to me.
Gifting a sardonic smile upon such daring thought, Lara
von Dirkwind chose to hold her tongue. Never withholding secrets concerning her
sexuality, the only truth overshadowing her greatest infamy was an unrivalled
skill in knife fighting. This was a confident pirate whose tight fitting garb
of crimson corset and maroon pants complimented a fanciful pair of high heeled
boots. Despite her prominent hourglass shape, many a foe had found his grave
leagues under the sea. So much for an Half Elf content to play the harlot
unless decided to act otherwise.
“Give me one more cycle,” winked Lara’s good eye, “Or
rather less than one.”
With an assured posture, Lara spun gracefully away
from her seat. If there was any response towards her swaying rear, only
Biggan’s lustful sigh made his intent known. As for Guy, he did not like a
single bit on what he’s getting. She claimed to be a pirate, a seafaring
brigand. Yet, the sandy blond lad sensed something amiss. As if not only
seafaring folks are capable of such profession, mused the lion, sapphire orbs
never leaving his target.
Aubrun tresses caressing her bare smooth back
strangely resembling Alestrial, a crimson bandage exposing an eye of clearest
blue mocked Guy without fail. This was exactly what drives Guy Cody up against
the wall, a seductress reminding him of his only love and only adversary.
Searing pain then shot cruel barbs into his mind, memories of him branded deeply in his soul.
When
you’ve lived long enough with something in hand, that’s where you realise life
is all about laughing at whoever living it out. Good luck and good riddance,
little boy.
)0(
“Lord uncle, the man you’re looking for is here,”
bowed a reverent Jase Steele, “Thus I have fulfilled my duty, herein I now…”
“No, stay here,” answered an impassive Knight Lord,
“I, Louthes Eliaden, bind you to.”
“As you wish, lord uncle.”
As heavy footsteps resounded inside his head, Louthes
Eliaden did not even take a glance behind. He knew who his visitor is, certain
things never change. A young nobleman and
an equally young noble lady, separating the two stood a smallborne youth. That
was more than two decades ago, yet age had failed to dull a Vanir’s edge. Emma
should deserve better, noted the patriarch of House Eliaden in self-mockery.
“Moggray, when was the last time we met?” smiled
Louthes, his customary hard look softening for a brief minute. If the veteran
soldier felt any emotions welling up, he chose not to show. Folding his arms
and seating himself without invitation, such casual attitude had Jase Steele
and Konnor Ripels bristling in anger.
“Three years ago, it seems,” replied the Northern Lion
nonchalantly, “By the way, nice room.”
“You find it nice?” smiled Louthes before Moggray’s
scowl, “It’s just a simply furnished room in a bustling inn.”
Emma
would love that, she’s one for simplistic beauty.
Realising the futility behind reminiscing, Louthes
exiled his wistful thought. As a glass of Bordeu was poured out, Moggray
proceeded to pour his own drink. A glass
of plain water. If there was anything holding Jase and Konnor back, it
would be their liege’s absolute command that no arms must be drawn, no matter
the circumstances. Silence accompanied the duo sipping their drink, then came
serious matters at hand.
“Moggray, I don’t like to beat around the bush, so
here’s my deal. Tell me where the Ranger is, you know who I’m talking about.”
“Ranger?” scoffed the scarred man, “There’s no Ranger
here, have you gone senile?”
“Please…”
“…don’t test my patience,” smirked Moggray abruptly,
his face assuming a dark glower afterwards, “I’m also hunting for that son of a
bitch. It’s either you believe my word or you can call me a swindler.”
“So he really did sneak away without notice,” mused
the Knight Lord, a strong hand rubbing his chin, “What about Karen Tenias then?”
“Granad’s little girl is hidden somewhere unknown. I
wish you good riddance in finding her.”
“You know what your decision constitute to? Moggray, I
know…”
“…Granad’s character. Don’t we all?” scoffed Moggray
with a shrug.
“Lord uncle, Lady…”
“Lady Karen is in safe hands, little boy,” wagged
Moggray’s index finger, “By the way, you got airs of a warrior.”
“My father is Brynn Steele, does that ring a bell?”
boasted Jase.
“Brynn Steele, hero of the masses, a butcher to the
rest,” sighed the middle aged soldier, a hand ruffling his own shoulder length
hair, “Sorry to break this to you, lad.”
“Please don’t be,” said the ginger lad proudly, his
chin raised up, “So long as…”
Before Jase Steele could finish his sentence, Moggray
roared like a wounded lion. A strong hand seizing the boy’s throat in a reverse
grip, the other smashed him hard onto the cold wooden floor. For the first time
in his life, Jase was utterly shaken. Not just physically, but mentally as
well.
His face…
‘tis of a lion, not a man.
As he finished those words in his mind, the ginger lad
felt suffocating pressure suddenly eased off. Getting up on his feet while
coughing, Jase could not muster a sliver of courage to face his worst
adversary. This was a lion walking amongst men, a beast grievously wounded. Old
soldiers never die, such was Brynn’s teaching to his men.
“Enough!” a commanding shout reverberating throughout
the room, order was swiftly restored. Louthes might already be a retired
military man, but fires of war still burned brightly in his eyes.
“So I take it that our talk has finished, no?” replied
Moggray, his muscular back facing Louthes, “Sorry for facing my ass towards
you.”
“Moggie!” hollered a familiar voice with a stranger’s
tone, a heartbreaking whisper following through, “I guess this is the last time
I’ll call you that. Emma was right in choosing you.”
“And I was right in letting you have her,” sighed a
weary Moggray Tonn as he turned back for the one last time, “Even though I know
shit was anything, but happy. And one more thing before I go.”
“Do speak then, my comrade,” Louthes detested the
final word, his ire directed against nobody bar himself.
“Take care of Brynn’s little boy. It’s one thing to
have a ruthless father, quite another to understand why.”
)0(
“Three more days and your comrade will recover in a
jiffy,” quipped the Poulter, “Don’t know whether I should call this good news
though.”
“Thank you very much, good Poulter,” bowed Hye’Na,
“Allow this humble servant girl to show you out.”
As the Cinha girl attended to her duty, Ross released
a wistful sigh. Yeovil, on the other hand, betrayed no emotions. Less than a
week had passed, yet everything seemed so different now. Twong would report
back verily soon, Yeovil should be happy in seeing his old plaything return.
Ross would laugh over Yeovil’s barbs and Twong frothing in anger, the only one
amiss was…
“Don’t worry, Ross,” assured the portly man, “Young
Mistress is a nice girl. I used to say nice guys finish last, but nobody ever
said anything on nice girls finishing first.”
“But the new girl… don’t you think she…”
“Resembles our Young Mistress?” a dismissive wave was given
in answer, “Only a Cinha, nothing more. Quite a fiery lass though, have to give
her that.”
“But perhaps this is what Young Mistress should be,”
tears welled up from Ross’ brown eyes, Yeovil offering his handkerchief in
reply.
“I’d like to say that’s what our late Lord Lady should
be as well,” chewing on his lower lip, Yeovil decided enough is enough.
“Ross, I need a puff or two. Excuse me for a while,
I’ll be back within an hour.”
)0(
Night befallen, Teesside became deathly quiet. Children
were now asleep, their parents put to rest their daily chores. Louthes sipped
his Bordeu with nary a word, his gaze turning on numerous torches lining the
dark alleys below. Remembering clearly why he undertook the Governor’s post,
every image seemed like a jester’s laugh.
“Louthes,
you don’t have to do this. Even if you desire a Governor’s post, why choose
Teesside?”
“Because
I want to do something worthwhile, because I do not want my life to be a waste.
Don’t bother stopping me, Brynn. I’ve made up my mind.”
“Something worthwhile? Not wanting my life to be a
waste?” chuckled the wearied knight, “Why yes, Brynn. I wasn’t lying to you
back then, neither am I a liar now. Come in!”
“Lord Jase, firstborn of House Steele is here,
Milord,” bowed Konnor Riples, “I hereby…”
“The both of you, stay,” gestured Louthes, “Take a
seat in front of me.”
As the duo tried making themselves comfortable to no
avail, Louthes poured them a glass of plain water each. Irony not lost unto
them, both Jase and Konnor nevertheless accepted their liege’s offer. Moments
passed and the clock kept ticking, all three present stayed silent. Then the
most unexpected party broke the haunting silence.
“I just can’t understand it, Milord!” exclaimed
Konnor.
“Why I allow Moggray Tonn to be?” smiled the aging
knight, “It seems to me that your life is tantamount to coincidence, Konnor.
Things do have a knack in falling into place where you are concerned.”
Taken aback by his master’s softening stance, the
young Home Guard could only nod dumbly. Jase, on the other hand, stayed his
tongue. Flashing a glance at the young scion, Louthes knew the time has arrived,
that the moment of truth is now. A sip was all he took to rally courage
faltered via time, mayhap his beloved Emma was right in those words.
“One fine
day, we all will depart. Before then, our time must halt more than once. Living
is not about how many you have, but how much you gain.”
“We used to be closest of friends. Me, him, and Emma,”
a gasp in unison was heard, Louthes took no heed, “Moggray was literally
special in a certain sense.”
“He’s a smallborne,” commented an impassive Jase, his
assumption meeting approval in the form of a nodding head, “Do go on, lord
uncle.”
“I don’t like to tell stories, so I’ll cut short the
chase. When Emma reached her eighteenth birthday, a choice had to be made.
Between me and Moggray,” the Knight Lord paid scant attention to his two
charges’ shock, momentary pause being the only reprieve available.
“Lady Emma chose you,” assumed Jase.
“Moggray threw it willingly,” came the unexpected
reply.
“But that’s because he shouldn’t vie for Lady Emma’s
hand in the first place!” protested Konnor.
“He knew it way before you’re born,” smiled Louthes sadly,
“Why I relate this story to you is very simple.”
Jase and Konnor felt their hearts tightened up, they
foresaw where their short term future lies. Their liege maintained eye contact
for a brief minute, his words verifying their suspicions.
“Konnor Riples and Jase Steele, I hereby relinquish my
duty towards your fathers. From tomorrow’s sun onwards, you two shall fight under
Moggray Tonn’s banner.”
)0(
Background
notes
Tomorrow’s sun: Formal term for the next day, i.e. the
sun symbolizing dawn.
)0(
