AU: Bishop survived the last battle with the King of Shadows, and fled far away, ashamed by his cowardice and hating the thought of being tied down to someone. But the night before his betrayal, he slept with his ladyship, Amelia, a graceful half elven assassin, clever and sarcastic. After 22 years, Bishop will come back to the places he once knew, and will accidentally discover what he left behind.
This is just a sample chapter, so to speak. If you like it, I'll try to write more about it at the best of my possibilities.
If you notice any mistake in my English, PLEASE, let me know.
R&R appreciated!
Note: what I express here is how I believe the characters would act. This is my OPINION about them, which may differ to yours. So, please be kind. I'll happily discuss it, but only in a polite manner. This told, I hope you'll enjoy your reading!
Chapter one, in which a mysterious game hunter confronts an unhappy purchaser.
"I made a mistake. I should have not come back here."
Bishop thought, drinking some wine sitting at the darkest table in the worst tavern in Port Llast. He had not been in those places by a long time, by now. Twenty years, or something like that.
An old wolf was standing next to him, crunching a bone. He loved to hunt, but was pretty old to do so. Bishop tried to buy him something to eat every time they stopped at an inn, but it was easier said. The old wolf was still pretty proud, and not always accepted to eat something his companion bought with gold. But sometimes he just gave up, like that time. Bishop secretly hid his relief … Karnwyr was the only friend he ever got, and the thought of losing him was… pretty unpleasant, even for a fallen ranger like him. When he was young, he never thought about his life without Karnwyr, didn't even imagined it. He was a criminal, a murderer, a traitor… and this kind of people had one thing in common: they didn't last long.
But he did. He was in his middle forties, by now. More or less. His hair and beard were already grayish. More he thought about it, more it seemed laughable. But he was still there, which was more the most of his former companions could say. Oh, his former companions… sometimes he just thought about them, no matter what. Every night their faces were in his dreams, like those of the many he killed with the years passing by. But that was only one face that could keep him awake at night. Was beautiful: it has to be, for him to lose sleep. Her face populated his dreams, like a cancer he just could not fight. Those sharp cheekbones, those carmine lips, so full and sweet. That, he could stand. What really drove him mad, were her eyes. Wide, bright as stars. They were so deep and green, that more than once he found himself looking into them praying for losing his way in those abysses. She often joked about her elven inheritance to be all in those eyes. He never really listened to her those times, but thinking about it he just came to the conclusion it was incontestable.
Closing his eyes, he almost could see her standing in front of him, looking proud, majestic, and arrogant…
Could you really kill me, Bishop?
The rage threatened to take hold of him, and he tried to make it disappear by shaking his head, and taking a generous drink of wine. Felt better.
As he put down his flagon, a girl entered in the tavern. He looked at her with badly concealed interest: she was pretty beautiful, wearing her long dark hair in braid, dressed as a ranger. As she stepped in the tavern, Bishop sensed that Karnwyr stiffened. She was carrying a bow with her, and a dead deer, which she put quite ungentle on the bar.
"Bran! Bran, come in! I got something to eat for your gentle costumers!", she sneered.
All the costumers looked at her after they heard her words. She was really pretty, maybe daring, but surely stupid for talking like that in front of that scum. Bishop tried to focus again on the meal he paid for, when Karnwyr shocked him with a deep growl. Knowing that his companion's warnings rarely were mistaken, Bishop put quietly a hand on his old hunting knife. Was old nearly as him, but still sharp and deadly. Another thing they had in common.
Still, Bishop could not sense a threat against his person. That made him feel uneasy, and he looked carefully at his fellow costumers. But none of them was looking at him: all their attention was focused on the slender girl at the bar. Some of them looked at her lustfully, others greedily, and for sure, none of them had any good intentions. Still, the young woman seemed relaxed, and Bishop could catch a glance of a smirk on her face. Was she the one putting him in danger? He had to stay focused and ready to hit the target. He tried to estimate the distance between himself and the woman. She was using a bow, but he could have react faster with his knife. A mere matter of luck.
A strapping man came out of the cellar, wearing a filthy apron, covered with blood's stains. He was a fat man, but seemed very strong: he came by the girl, who in comparison appeared little and frail, and said in a deep voice:
"Oh look, the bastard girl came back, with some venison nonetheless! Well, bad news for you, little brat: the last prey you sold to me was sick. Almost unfit to eat. I lost a bunch of money, and that's your fault."
"You didn't ask for some good meat. I bring you what I can, and you know it. If you'll ever find anyone else willing to sell anything to you, good riddance. For now, alas, I'm your only dealer. So save your breath for what really matters: the gold."
The innkeeper, Bran, examined the deer. It was pretty big, a male adult, for sure. That deer could earned her some good money. But Bran didn't seem very happy about it.
"Last time you literally ripped me off. You should pay, or at least give me this one for free. Looks like a good piece of meat."
She shook her head, whipping her braid. "No, thanks. I can be young, but I'm not stupid. You're insulting me implying that I am. Why should I even brother showing this awesome prey to someone like you, who obviously can't appreciate it or my skills?"
Now, some costumers were laughing under their teeth. The girl smirked, which got Bran pretty furious. His cheeks were red.
"Now, Dhaera… you don't want to see me upset, don't you?"
Bishop saw the girl's, Dhaera's, left hand grab a dagger. Karnwyr growled a second time, louder. Bishop took aim.
Dhaera came closer to Bran with a knowing smile. She was attractive, and aware of it: "No need to be upset, my dear. –she whispered- You know, a good dealer wants his purchasers happy and… satisfied. I'm sure we will have a deal, here…" and then, she stroked gently his penis through the breeches with her right hand.
There was lust in Bran's eyes, for sure. He looked at Dhaera, a young beautiful woman, in the bloom of youth. Her clothes were pressing against her firm breast, caressing her nipples and showing their shape through the fabric every time she took a breath. He thought about her, moaning, sweating, with his hand between her thighs. She could feel his penis hardening in his breeches. Dhaera knew that Bran thought often about her, and was ready to use it to her advantage.
Feeling his reaction, she relaxed, even loosing her grip on the dagger. Her smile became wider.
"BRANDON! What is this wench doing with her filthy hands on your cock?!"
Hearing that piercing voice, both Bran and Dhaera step back. A woman came out the cellar, presumably Bran's wife, with an apron filthy as his husband's one. Bran face was definitely purple, and the whole inn burst into laughter, Bishop included. Dhaera snorted, trying to prevent herself from laughing.
"Nothing, my beloved rosebud! This… this whore was trying to ensnare me!" he yelled at his wife, turning over and pointing a finger against Dhaera. His movement shown to the entire inn his erection, making them laugh even louder. Bishop was literally crying.
"Well, I think I should go! Bran, you convinced me: you'll have your deer for free – this time. Now, time for me to disappear!" said Dhaera, moving across the room. The laughter slowed her down, cause Bran grasped her left wrist, stopping her and preventing her from using her dagger at the same time. The humiliation brought anger and fury in his eyes: as Dhaera looked at him, she felt the great risk she was taking.
There wasn't any time to think at all: Karnwyr leaped up, barking, and rushed against Bran. Dhaera opened wide her eyes in alarm, as the wolf bit Bran's arm. The innkeeper's screams threw everyone into a panic, and in a moment anyone in the tavern was taking his weapons and running across the room, with his wife running and crying louder than everyone else.
Dhaera freed her arm, falling on her back. In the same moment, Bran, screaming, took with his free hand the biggest butcher knife Bishop had ever seen.
Karnwyr was in a great danger.
Bishop stood up, instantly: with his hunter knife still in his hand. He didn't even took the distance, he just throw his knife straight to the innkeeper's head, between the eyes, as he lowered the blade on Karnwyr's cranium. Bishop's rapidity was amazing, but he wasn't a young man anymore.
He had become slow.