10 This Lord wishes to take a gander… (Patreon)

This Lord wishes to take a gander…

• 26.13.1623

Windy fir woodlands.

THE last days of autumn had arrived, and the world was awash in a riot of colours. The trees once adorned in lush greens, now wore a cloak of golds, reds, and oranges, a final burst of brilliance before the winter chill set in. The air was crisp and cool, with a faint hint of woodsmoke drifting on the breeze. Leaves crunched underfoot, and the smell of damp earth filled Lia’s nose as she walked through the woods.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the landscape. It seemed to cling to the horizon, as if reluctant to let go of its grasp on the world. As the day waned, the air grew colder, and a soft mist began to rise from the ground. It wrapped around the trees like a ghostly shroud, casting an eerie pall over the forest. In the distance, the Priestess could hear the honking of geese as they made their way south, and the rustle of animals as they prepared for the long, cold winter ahead. The last days of autumn were a time of transition, a moment when the world paused before plunging into the darkness of winter. It was a bittersweet time, filled with both beauty and melancholy, a reminder that all things must pass…

…Tradition itself being no exception.

Priestess Lia arrives at her destination with a cold frown masking her face, the two Nameless behind her silently taking point at her sides. “You must be the one they call Outher?” she said, referring to the neatly dressed man standing alone across the clearing from her.

“Yes,” the bandit said. “I hear you have some information regarding the murderers of my Master’s nephew?”

“Payment?” the priestess replied.

“It’s here.” Outhor dug out a small pouch from the folds of his cloth, before tossing it towards one of the Nameless by Lia’s side. The masked man immediately opened it and began digging through the pouch.

“It’s complete, Mistress,” the Nameless said, pocketing the pouch. Lia nodded.

“Your Master’s foolish boy assaulted Duke Aden of Faywyn,” The priestess said to the bandit. “The duke murdered the boy in defence of the Queen and crown princess and is currently under the personal protection of the Matriarch of the Creed of the Twins.”

The clearing fell silent for a few moments after that as the bandit seemingly digested the news. “Should we be concerned about reprisal from the Creed should we desire to pursue this matter.”

“The Duke’s well-being is the Matriarch’s concern alone,” Lia replied. “My mistress guarantees you would receive covert protection, as well as be exempted from the Creed’s reprisal should you, in any event, pursue this matter.”

The bandit fell silent again. “...I take this ‘Matriarch’ and your mistress are not on good terms then?”

Lia gave a small frigid smile. “That should not be of any concern to you, should it now, Outhor?”

“...No,” the bandit replied. “No, It should not.”

***

• 29.13.1623

Faywyn.

Hot pain spread across Levi’s cheekbone as he crashed heavily through the snow into the frozen soil underneath. His ironclad form laid still and crumpled for a few moments before he began to stir, appearing rather dazed and worse for wear. Levi groaned as he rolled onto his back with visible exertion, readjusting his helmet.

“Do you yield, My Lord?” Viscount Lancelot asked blandly as he stabbed his Feder into the soil before proceeding to unclasp then reattach the gauntlet he smashed into Levi’s face just moments ago. Levi, having done this enough times to discern the undercurrent of mirth in the viscount’s tone, proceeded instead to simply ignore the older man.

“Again,” Levi said as he pushed himself to his feet, armour clinking noisily against itself as clumps of snow fell off from his body.

The viscount pulled his practise sword from whence he stabbed it, twirling it with a fancy flourish as he brought it to bear across his chest before levelling into a fool’s guard. “Again, m’lord?” he confirmed, peering at Levi from behind his visor.

“Again.” Levi himself leaned into a long point guard, the tip of his sword raised to eye level, before he struck forward, his blade cleaving into a thrust towards the viscount’s chest. The viscount casually parried the strike before moving forward with a counter of his own, and for a split second, Levi’s breathing stalled as he stared at Lancelot’s blade ascending at an angle towards him. Almost subconsciously, he ditched his weighty longsword, a portion of the momentum in his arms bleeding off with the discarded weapon and freeing him ever so slightly as he pushed his buckler into the viscount’s strike, deflecting it.

Levi collided with the viscount shoulder-first, grappling the older man by the waist to the floor before immediately stabbing at his face with a training dagger he pulled from his belt. Lancelot, in response, crossed his left forearm over the slit of his visor in such an impeccably timely manner that the dull point of the descending blade ricocheted off his arm guard in a shower of sparks as it plunged into the dirt overhead.

Levi felt a painful kick to the guts as he was dislodged from his post on top of Lancelot. With a roll and another two, he leveraged on the momentum of the kick to pull away, creating enough distance to see an already upright Lancelot pouncing upon his earliest position.

A flurry of clumsy footwork brought him back to his feet in just enough time to retreat just quickly enough to retreat as Lancelot again bore down upon him sword in hand. He parried the viscount’s first strike with his dagger, but the second knocked the weapon away and a third clipped off his helmet by the viewing slit in his visor, dazing and knocking him to the ground where a fourth strike froze just inches away from his head.

“Again, milord?” Lancelot asked, barely winded as he raised his visor.

“No,” Levi wheezed, “I yield.”

“...How is the suit holding up?”

Levi patted his chest plate with a sigh. “It still feels chunky around the bust, though, I feel I am starting to get used to it. I almost got you though, didn’t I?”

“You're getting better,” Lancelot shrugged as he unclasped the dented armguard covering his left forearm to examine the bruised skin underneath. “But I must say, My Lord,” the viscount added with a sigh, “you fight like a rabid animal.”

“Thank you,” Levi smiled. “I will take that as a compliment. Though to be fair, you forced my hand.”

“I did, didn’t I? Fair enough,” Lancelot replied after a moment of thought, “but I fear your recklessness might soon, one day, be the death of me, more so if you continue improving at this pace. Had I not seen it with my own eyes, I would have never believed one who once abhorred violence as much as yourself could grow to become so dreadfully proficient at it.”

“Again, thank you,” Levi replied, taking Lancelot’s outstretched hand as he pulled himself up to his feet. “I will also take that as a compliment.”

“You are welcome, m’lord.”

“Well then, I propose we return to your abode at once,” Levi said before adding with a faint shiver. “I can already feel the sweat on my skin freezing over underneath all this armour.”

…

• A few minutes later

Lancelot’s manor.

As Levi entered the humble hall of the manor, his eyes were drawn to the vaulted ceiling above, supported by sturdy wooden beams. The walls made of hewn stone were rough and unpolished, with a few gaudy tapestries hanging on them. The floors were made of large, rough-hewn stones, worn smooth by years of use.

In the centre of the room stood a long, wooden table, surrounded by benches on either side. The table was set with a light breakfast, Lady Junita herself setting down an empty basket of fresh-baked bread, and bowls of vegetables and fruits. The brass goblets and plates glinted dully in the morning light

At the far end of the hall sat a small fireplace, the fire crackling softly as it filled the room with warmth and light. “Thank you, Lady Junita,” Levi said as he took a seat at the table.

“You are welcome, My Lord.”

The earl took a sip of the bowl of soup served to him, relishing in the feeling of warmth that blossomed in his chest as the balmy liquid travelled down his throat. “This is splendid, My Lady,” he purred as he took another sip of the broth. “My sincerest compliments to the chef.”

“Oh, you flatter me, Lord Levi,” Lady Junita cooed as she served bread from a wicker basket before filling his cup with some mead.

“Your Lordship has grown quite bold,” Lancelot commented in between sips from his mug as he also took a seat at the table. “Seducing my wife before my very eyes? Quite bold indeed.”

Levi raised a brow in surprise before smirking, his tone dripping with scorn as he replied. “If this Lord indeed desired to seduce your wife―who by the way is quite an exemplary woman―what made you think you had any choice in the matter, old man? I am clearly the superior specimen here, and I trust m’lady to be of the right mind to make a fitting choice should she have to.”

“That is indeed true, my dear,” Lady Junita affirmed solemnly as she refilled Lancelot’s now empty cup. “I would divorce you in an instant should His Lordship here ever make his desire for me known.”

“Pardon my insolence then, m’lady. Carry on,” Lancelot chuckled to which the viscountess huffed unhappily in response.

“You know, my dear,” she said her tone rebuking as she took a seat at the table, “you could learn a thing or two from the His Lordship here about how to properly treat a woman. A nice compliment now and then would be a great start in my opinion.”

“...Really? Uh, the soup is nice?” the viscount replied and with an exasperated sigh his wife crossed her arms across her bosom, glaring at him.

“With all due respect, My Lord,” the viscount said, as he turned to face a mirthful Levi, “this is your fault.”

“You are welcome,” the earl replied, smiling. “On a lighter note,” he continued, “I haven’t seen Javi since and I know her lessons should be over by now, is she alright?”

“Oh she is, My Lord,” Lady Junita replied with a smile. “She threw a tantrum and missed her morning lessons with Miss Jin so we had it moved. They should be in the study.”

Levi’s gaze turned contemplative. “You don’t say...”

…

The study in Lancelot’s home, although much smaller than the one present in the Keep, was still quite appealing to Levi’s eyes. Rows of leather-bound codices and bundled parchment sheets lined a wooden shelf opposite the door from whence he entered. The stone walls were decorated with the pelts and antlers of wild beasts, and at the end of the room was a table and two chairs upon which two fur-bundled figures sat.

“Le―I mean, Lord Levi!” Javi exclaimed as she jumped to her feet, and only by a hair’s breadth did she manage to restrain herself from bounding over to the earl’s side.

“Good afternoon, Your Lordship,” Javi said with a curtsy as she peeked at her tutoress standing beside her from the corner of her eye.

‘Your back is too stiff,’ Levi heard the Lady whisper to Javi―the girl flushing as she tried to correct herself― before turning to face him. “Good afternoon, Your Lordship.”

“Good afternoon ladies,” Levi replied with a smile. “I trust you are having a wonderful time.”

“Yes, we are, My Lord,” the governess intoned, before turning to face Javi. “Aren’t we, young miss?”

“Ah, Uh, Yes?”

“Good,” Levi chuckled. “Well, I’d hate to interrupt but Javi…”

“Yes?”

“Your mother wishes to see you.”

“...Did I do something wrong?” Javi asked after a momentary pause.

“Did you do something wrong?”

“...No.”

Levi simply smiled in response as the pale-faced girl slinked out of the room.

“Governess Jin,” the earl said as he turned to face Javi’s tutoress as the little girl departed, “may I have a moment of your time please?”

“Please feel free, My Lord. What does Your Lordship wish to speak about?”

“My, you look so much more beautiful in person,” he said in passing as he walked towards the table upon which sat an open book. “The Tale of Varietal,” Levi said immediately upon recognising a few lines in the book. “It’s been ages since I laid eyes upon a copy of this book.”

“You flatter me, m’lord,” Miss Jin replied with a small blush before turning a baffled gaze towards the book Levi was leafing through. “You appear to have read it, My Liege?”

“Yes, I have read all of Countess Leslie’s books and I must say she is quite an exemplary writer,” Levi commended earning a smile from the governess. “That aside, I would like to know if my lady would be free tonight perhaps?”

”Yes, I will be, My Lord. Why?”

“Wonderful. I’m well aware I have only just recently made your acquaintance and this may be a strike of pure lunacy, but would thou like to join me in my hovel for a cup of fine wine later today? If thy codpiece tells it true, I’d much enjoy a night spent knowing you.

“You jest, My lord,” Miss Jin replied with a small laugh, but Levi simply stared back dourly as he awaited her reply. “...Oh. Oh my,” she whispered, a look of realisation dawning upon her. The governess flushed red as she discreetly peeked at the door.

“My Lord, you mean―”

“Yes, Miss Jin,” Levi interjected politely, ”this lord wishes to take a gander beneath your frock so I may so deeply bury my phallus in thy hindquarters, may hap who retrieves it be crowned Emperor of the Seven kingdoms.”

“...Oh,” the governess croaked as she peeked again at the door, a subtle shiver in her voice. “Oh my.”

Disclosable information:

The Tale of Varietal is a tragic love story by Leslie Aiden, a renowned Arien scholar. It was based on the tale of a naive young noble lady who sought the affection of a villainous Demon lord. Due to the soul-stirring emotional implications the story showcased, it became a very popular piece of literary work amongst the many aristocratic women of Udoris.