Adventuring with Lauré Part 1; Letters to Kamala by Danny-Chama (Patreon)

Dear Kamala,

Hello my friend, I hope this letter finds you well. A little birdie told me that you got promoted recently, congratulations! How’s it feel to be a member of the Queen’s Crimson Guard? I hear they’ve got you teaching interrogation tactics to the sisters and brothers among the Red Guard. Sounds like the perfect calling for you, sweetie. You always could be a sexy, malicious, bitch when you needed to be!

Things have been good for me as well, my knighthood in Lioncourt hasn’t been as limiting as I thought it would be. In truth, I’m barely ever there. As a Knights Errant of House Dalen my job is to travel the land, get into mischief, save a few lives, and kiss a few asses, all while singing the praises of my ‘Lord’s’ house. Other than being called to act as one of the House’s ‘Champions’, I’m more or less free to do what I want.

I thought maybe I’d spend a couple years bowing and grovelling at the foot of some foppish lord just to honor Lauren’s memory, but her brother turned out to be a pretty nifty kin. A bit of a dandy, but handsome and interesting. Though his fiance doesn’t seem to want to leave me alone with him for some reason. The stuck up shrew of a jerboa was the one who suggested I serve the House elsewhere. I bet I could knock some of the chill off that frigid bitch if I had ten minutes and a bottle of cream. She’s not bad looking, just really annoying.

But I guess I should feel blessed for her insecurity. Things have turned out far better for me than I could have imagined. Especially seeing as how House Dalen has to pay me to travel about and do whatever the hell I like!

Life is funny like that. It has this odd way of taking a turn on you. You never know where the next moment will lead, no matter how many times you plot your course on a map. Times like this I often remember running wild and free through the fields of Sonam, letting the wind blast through my hair, whilst bending the reeds of tall grass as I ran and roughoused with my friends. You were the only other little girl who would play with me. The rest of those jealous bitches never had a kind word for me... funny how that never stopped them from wanting to romp and roll!

Speaking of romping and rolling, you should meet my squire. The boy is a fascinating and lovely specimen that is as impressive with his blade as he is with his sword.  You know what I mean! He’s barely eighteen, but that boy’s got the stroke of a seasoned paramour, though I’ve much to teach him about swordsmanship. Goddess knows I’ve got little I can teach him about being a ‘proper knight’.

My dear Addy can be an exhausting apprentice. How do you teach someone who seems to already know every damn thing? At least, all the academic stuff. Don’t get me wrong, honey, he’s easy to get along with. Witty, interesting, very easy on the eyes; but infuriatingly difficult to challenge. I often get the feeling that the kid knows more about knighthood than I do. Hell he seems to know more about histories and culture too... Far more than you’d suspect from even a Duke’s son; at least in a practical sense. He’s all facts and skill. Abundant talent with little wisdom or experience. He’s pretty naive at times. The boy’s humble, but takes everything way too seriously. So I’ve decided a bit of wreckless adventuring will be good for him.

I’ve taken to waking the boy in my favorite manner. You wouldn’t believe how hard his cock is every morning. Reminds me of Bastal’s old farm hand, that boy Tau with the fetching citrine eyes. He was so pretty and cute to have such a manly dick. I remember when we started visiting him in the mornings before he had to work the fields. Though he didn’t have the raw stamina my little squire has.

Don’t get me wrong, the boy isn’t stuffy or prudish like most Courtians. Something I’ve come to love about the Dalish especially, but he’s no Pandorican. He’s still squeamish about nakedity and still handles me like I’ll break. He hasn’t truly loosened up to me and it’s frustrating. He insists on calling me Ma’am or Master, which just feels wrong. I’ve been countering by calling him m’lord or by his title Count in return, which irks him; though I’ve yet to get a proper rise out of the boy. Give it time, I’ll break him of that genteel rubbish soon enough.

You always told me that I’ve never been much for order and routine. You were right, and I despise the overmodest practices of the Courtian peerage like no other. My boy doesn’t act like most of them, and certainly is less so when he thinks I’m not looking; but there’s too much drilled into him about our dynamic and how he ought to act with me. I blame his mother, scary bitch that she is. Woman sends chills down my spine and makes the boy stand up straighter at the mere mention of her name. Getting him out of Lioncourt and away from her influence was step one in my plan to learn the boy proper. A little organized chaos is more my style, so we’ve been exploring dangerous ruins in the central continent.

Since that business with the Valdinians had sent us north into the Naedlynn plains, I’ve been putting the boy through his paces as often as I can; I decided I wanted to finally check out the ruins of the citystate of Marmoria, in the southern plains. It’s said to have fallen early during the Baptism and I’m not sure why the Marmortini never resettled it.

Unlike some of the furkin races whose numbers dwindled after the genocidal war, roderen like the marmots, prairie dogs, and xerini are still plentiful about the central continent. The free timberlands are littered with them.

I once entertained a rather handsome marmot admirer a few years back during a week of wine and fun during the summer friendship festival they celebrate in the Free Timberlands every Quintillis. The kin was quite the eager lover. Not one great filling meal, but a dozen different courses over the span of a long session of love making. It was from him I’d first heard of Marmoria.

The boy is worried, of course. Says he feels something disturbing the flow of mana. Creatures or beings scurrying in the darkness, living in the catacombs of the city. There’s said to be a river down there so I wanted to check it out. He thinks it’s dangerous. I know it is, that’s why we’re going. A knight doesn’t avoid danger, they meet it head on. Death is waiting around every corner you know.

A dagger in every hand, a hand in every shadow, a shadow down every corridor. It may not be as prestigious as working directly for Queen Asura, but I’m sure it’s more fun. Little Addy’s awake again and I want to see if he can focus on the stirring shadows and my loins as well. Multitasking is a skill all knights need and I want to see how good the boy's awareness is under ‘pressure’.  I’ll write to you again when our business here is done.

Always amazing;

Lauré Tani