Chapter 22: A Day with the Earl


Headsup- Hello again! I know...the vial was cool, it came to me as a flash of inspiration and I kicked my sibs. off our computer to type...oh, hold on:

General Announcement: Not only are my teachers complete.....(well you know what I'm thinking) but I'm suffering from writer's block...not much inspiration is coming at me lately...so I'm sorry if the chapters are crummy.

Kk, where was I? OH, Headsup, I'll try writing one scene this chapter...I dunno how well I can hold off, but I'll try...k? Ummmm, I'm never too sure who to write about, so again, I'll take a while to update, but then by the time I've posted this, you will have realised that because you will already be in a wheelchair complaining of the hip surgeries you are scheduled for.

Cheeky, now where would I be if I told my readers/reviewers whether my seemingly sweet characters are evil or not? I'm not answering. .: shakes her head in disgust:. Bah-fooey to you! Lol, joking I love ya! Whaddya mean 'whats so important about them?' !!!!!!!! hellooooo...Natalia is Keosha's cousin, the Queen is the King's wife, King's advisers include the Count, Marcus is the Count's son, Marcus is infatuated with Abby, Abby is Keosha's friend and employer. Ya, a lot of peeps are sayin' same as u with all of the stories at once...please don't get mad....I just can't get enough inspiration from one set...ooopsie. Oh, yes....and watch for them singing woodland creatures! Not is this chappie, but the next.

Misty!welcome back!...hmmm, friends with the Mothers of the Green Coterie...that would be the logical, boring, unoriginal choice....I hadn't really considered it.... interesting....don't worry, their in no danger of meeting and joining forces.

Do a little dance...make a little love....get down tonite....yaya, get down tonite!!!!! by now you all know the drill, I HAVE A NEW REVIEWER!!!!!!!! .: smiles like a retard:. Yay Queena! Yes, very, very disturbing...ew. But hey, that's y she's mad...and sad...boohoo....I know again with the swtiching bit... lalalala, I'm not listening .: dances around with hands over her ears:. Hmmm, engaged... after 21 chapters, you'd think more woulda happened, I guess. OH WELL!

Boothaa...hehehehe, oh, funny name! Thank you...NEW REVIEWER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!yay!


The Earl of Mattensworth swished the red wine in his glass, waiting on the noblemen's decisions. They sat around a large table, their heads bent towards one another as they listened to each man's opinion. The voice of the Duke of Marling's Point filtered out of their huddle,

" What he proposes is in the best interests of three quarters of the Council. If we were to agree to such a scheme, the King would have our heads on a pike by eventide!"

A nasal tone drifted towards the Earl's chair, " May I remind you that the half who would benefit from this plan of his are seated at this table...he chose his audience well."

The Earl grinned wolfishly to himself and the fern beside him. 'Of course I chose well. And I know you all and your pathetic attempts at business too well not to know that you would die for an opportunity like the one I am offering.'

He tuned them out again and stared idly at the books behind the glass on the shelf.

The Histories of the Known Lands by Sir Trebor Procter, Seven Coteries by Lord Dirhime, Fourteen Ways to Pardise by Count Franc of Solominia. 'Gods forbid that they would have books written by people that know what their writing about. Sir Trebor, a weathered scholar, has never left Arulanthu....pathetic old geezer. Lord Dirhime, as far as I know, still holed up in his country manor. Count Franc.... Solominia, not even Arulanthian, and his attempts to write on the Afterlife are humorous, at best.'

The Earl shook his head and turned his attention to the still-arguing noblemen. He glanced at the grandfather clock opposite his seat. 'Disgustingly inefficient use of time.'

Earl Mattensworth stood, his height of 6 feet, two inches drawing the attention of the clustered men at the table.

" Gentlemen, I am through waiting silently, either you accept my offer or you decline and I turn to another group of gentlemen, perhaps wiser and quicker than you lot." One gnarled old Lord pursed his wrinkled lips and said,

" You are not a polite man, Mattensworth, there are those here who are your superiors, remember that."

" I am not concerned with your hierarchy. I came with an offer and in reply to your drawn-out conference, I leave with your presumed refusal." He walked briskly towards the doors and reached out for the handle.

He had reached for the door handle when the Duke of Marling's Point stopped him.

" You need not attempt thespian talents, Mattensworth. We accept." The Earl did not turn but opened the door whilst replying,

" 'Tis well you do. I shall contact you with details. Good day," The Earl paused before adding in an ironic tone, " gentlemen."

Later that morning, after the Earl had secured his deal, he made his way towards the King's Chambers. The four guards stationed at the door watched his approach with vague interest.

" The King does not see petitioners, whether noble or common in his quarters. I would advise you to return to your regular schedule."

" I realise that. What you don't seem to realise is that the King will see me. Send one of your comrades in to petition him for my audience." The Earl spoke with authority that their spokesperson hesitated before saying,

" I regret to inform you that his Highness will see no one today. You are wasting your time."

" No. You are wasting my time." The guards exchanged an uneasy look, but stood firm in their decision. The Earl fingered the small vial of Hebetude Liquor his pocket. He smiled in false understanding.

" Well, I suppose if his highness is indisposed then I shall call another time." The guards nodded, noticeably relieved nodded as he moved away.

The Earl turned the corner. He shook his head in disgust. 'He says he is King, and yet he takes so few security measures.' The man thought as he viewed the empty hallway. 'Not a guard nor soldier in sight.' The man dug into his other pocket, opposite the one containing the Hebetude Liquor vial, and looked over the spell he'd bought previous his arrival at the palace.

He opened the small scroll and recited the spell words.

Four in deep lull of sleep,

Four in amnesia of on hour.

Four to wake from the curse of sleep,

Four to loose their power.

The enchantment in the scroll caused the paper to vibrate for only a second before it ceased to exist. The scroll vanished from the Earl's hands and he peered around the corner in a comical fashion. The guards lay slumped on the floors in front of their posts. Smiling, he straightened and walked over to them. After checking their consciousness (they were asleep and snoring), he rifled elegantly through each guard's pockets.

The Earl brandished the small key triumphantly after his search and left the Royal corridors.

A hour-half later, the nobleman returned to find the guards untouched. Their quiet snores and the pool of drool from one guard's mouth were proof of their continued slumber. The Earl replaced the key in it's owner's pocket and left, leaving the guards to be found by the next shift.

The tall nobleman gazed over the run-down gardens, waiting. If his tip was correct, a servant of the Queen's would be arriving at any second to deliver a package. 'The Queen thinks she is paying for that fertility elixer....what she doesn't know is that she is single-handedly financing illegal precious jewel operations.' The Earl glanced down at his pocket watch and then to the door of the servants' quarters. The stone arch was empty and the flickering of the torch in it's bracket made the fleeting daylight seem even more elusive. The man tightened his grip on the watch. ' Where are they? Stupid servants, always dawdling!'

The Earl waited for three hours. As the cold air whipped around him, he strode into the castle, intent on the rooms of one Duke Hubert of Lormington.

He hammered loudly and uncompromisingly on the heavy oak door. "Hubert!" The Earl banged again. " Hubert! Open this door this instant, get off her and open it!" There was a muffled cursing and a thump, then footsteps towards the door. The Earl stepped out of the doorway just as the door opened and a fist jabbed where his face would have been. Grabbing the arm, the older man pulled and twisted it behind the Duke's back and shoved him inside the rooms.

Pinning him against the wall, the Earl leaned into his back, smushing his face into the wall. The Earl turned so his mouth was beside the nude Duke of Lormington's ear.

" You gave me dissatisfactory information, Hubert. I would suggest your informer is unemployed by sunset." He glanced towards the bed. A voluptuous woman half-lay, half propped herself up under the canopy of the bed, watching the events, only her bottom half covered. She drew attention to her long neck and ample breasts

as she brushed a stray lock of chocolate-brown hair from her naked breast. She looked directly at the Earl and smiled enticingly, her light eyes beckoning.

" And you, I may arrange for an outing with you where?" She smiled,

" 27 Baker's Corner, above the Barley Reaper's Tavern."

" Thank you," He turned back to Lormington, " And may I arrange your limbs in anyway I like the next time you set me wrong information?" It wasn't a question. He released his own informant and walked out the door.

The Duke stared after the Earl, his fists clenched. 'First Mother Iku, then Mattensworth. Damn them!' He closed the door and turned back to the bed.

" You going to come back?" She asked. He glared at her and shivered as he walked over to his drawers and took the key out of his breeches. He opened the drawer and pulled out a pouch.

"Here, take your money, we're done here." She slipped from the bed and into her clothes, turning her back to him, a silent demand for his help with her corset.

She took the coins on her way out, leaving the Duke with an empty bed and death threats to think of.

The brunette walked quickly from the Duke of Lormington's room, her cloth, leather soled shoes hardly making a sound as she caught up with the Earl, his long strides making it necessary to jog. He barely glanced at her, and she waited a while before he spoke,

" I will send a messenger for you, wench, when I want you. You name and age?"

" Iloria, milord-"

Stupid girl. Doesn't even know that, " An Earl, as I am, is referred to as 'your grace', girl." He finished his thought aloud and she nodded, " Your age?"

" 18, your grace." Ah. Abigail's age. He paused, 'or is she 17?' He dismissed the thought, realising that is hardly mattered. What mattered was that she was of legal prostitution age...she was well above, actually. But he'd never taken a 14-year-old to bed since he was that and two. He nodded and kept walking.

" Your grace?"

" What now?" he demanded, quite irritated. He stopped to find her paused a few feet behind him.

" You won't say where you found me, will you? Only it's supposed to be a quite business." The man raised an eyebrow,

" The business you are in is hardly a quiet one, wench." He turned again, but was stopped by her saying,

" You must promise not to tell!" She sounded terrified at her own words, but the Earl would not let that bit of impertinence go. Turning, he advanced upon her, and when he was not a coin's breadth away, he leaned down, and was rewarded to see her full breasts heaving and her eyes wide with fear.

" Don't make demands on me, slut. Not until we're in bed, and that is a relative term. Even in bed, it is I who dictates your every move, and makes all demands. If you want your cut of coin that my business would bring you, keep your demands quiet." She nodded, her mouth trembling, reminding him of his like for fightened women. He stooped and kissed her hard, intending the bruises he knew would mark her later. She struggled briefly, but stopped after realising it was in her best interest.

The Earl pulled away and slapped her. The cracking sound, echoed horribly in the deserted corridor. He whispered,

" That was a punishment, whore, for making demands above you. Let that be a lesson." He turned and left. Iloria watched him go, rubbing her cheek.


Come on, we're one away from 70.....11 away form 80, 21 away from 90, and 31 away from 100!!!!!!!!! that's right, the big ten-oh! Hehehehehe.

Don't worry, people this story won't become one of Sadism and/or masochism....but it's to give you a jist of the Earl's character.

Also, I'm finished apologising for not updating...it's getting too repetitive.

December 21st 2004