7 – A Little Muck ...
"So who was that?" Don asked jerking his head in the direction Louvel had taken.
"He is called Louvel Nottley, that is all I know."
"I'll find out about him later then," his friend said, picking up a pitchfork readying himself to start with the chore of mucking out.
Sauren grinned. His friend had adapted well to the role of bodyguard it seemed and Sauren did not object. In fact, he revelled in it, but he set the rules.
"You will do no such thing," Sauren said replacing the dandy alongside all the other grooming implements which were neatly contained in a leather holder. He turned and looked at Don who stood with an ambivalent look upon his stubbled face.
The human leaned heavily on the pitchfork. "Sauren, he could be..."
"He is not to be investigated. Do I make myself clear?" Sauren's brown eyes fixed Don with an unrelenting stare. Don nodded, clearly disappointed.
Sauren pulled on his other glove and moved over to take the pitchfork from his friend. Don surrendered the tool without question. With a sigh, he voiced his agreement to Sauren's instruction with a quiet mumble.
"You will, however, acquaint yourself with one of the new trainees who arrived yesterday."
Don's face lit up. He readily enjoyed tasks the sagacious young master set him. They were more often than not simmering with some potential sophistry. Don also considered himself the brawn to Sauren's brain so if anything involved a bit of muscle he was more than up for the job.
Plus, being trusted by such an individual was bound to be advantageous in many other ways too. Don had his sights set on luxury and a recrementitious future was achievable in the employ of one who already enjoyed an exorbitant lifestyle. Not forgetting the fact he actually liked Sauren who, in his opinion, had been treated horribly by the bigoted pigs in the city.
"And to what avail?" Don asked.
"Over the next year, we shall be busy attending to that... list." Sauren held his gaze.
"Year? You think it will take a whole year?" Don's face split with incredulity.
"Longer, actually." The half-elf said with aplomb. Sauren laughed, but the sound had very little mirth to it. His eyes darkened, menace manifesting behind them. "I will not rush blindly into dealing with these imbeciles..."
"Excuse me, but I would hardly call a year rushing! Besides this has been going on since you were knee-high to a murloc."
At that Sauren did laugh out loud. There were times Don helped keep his feet planted firmly on the ground, others where he amused him greatly. Then there were the times where he irked the half-elf to the point he wanted to hit him. Fortunately for Don, it was the middle of the three this time.
With his mirth subsided, he explained. "I want to ensure this is executed perfectly, Don. I do not wish my father to be held accountable or embarrassed by an 'errant' son, so it must be done with the utmost precision."
"Yes, but I thought this was also a way to ensure no others would ever attempt the likes again and a means to make the scum fear you."
Sauren began clearing the soiled straw and hay as he spoke. "The fact is the victimisation has lessened considerably, Don. They will think no doubt that I am... weak, cowardly perhaps. I think they feared for long enough that my father would seek retribution. So, this will give them all a false sense of security."
Don picked up another pitchfork and started clearing the hay on the opposite side from Sauren, but he remained within hearing distance.
The half-elf continued. "I want them to think their little lives are safe within their dark, insignificant existences. Let them believe they are untouchable; superior as some consider themselves. They will learn... in due course. There must be no association, however, with the Crimson Blade. I shall not have that which my father has worked hard to achieve, besmirched by my own hand."
Don grumbled as he swept.
"Oh, they will come to respect this half-elf, Don, believe me," Sauren added. "I'll be damned if I allow their ignorance and prejudices to go unpunished."
With that, the human boy grinned, contented with the chicanery implied in Sauren's statement. "So, what is it you want of this trainee?"
Sauren finished clearing out the soiled bedding and moved the barrow to the next stall before grabbing the broom to sweep out the remainder of old straw. "I will need another accomplice, Don. You are my right-hand, I need someone as my left. I am particularly interested in this Reed Hale. He seems to be of the calibre we need."
Don nodded while he continued with the stalls on the opposite side. "Fair enough. I will check him out later."
"Good." Sauren had no doubt Don would be thorough but with a measured level of discretion. While the boy enjoyed showing off his strength and prowess he was also possessed an excellent degree of guile and shrewdness – essential qualities for a potential second in command in Sauren's opinion.
It was something he too prided himself in. He had often sneaked into the missions room while his father was absent and inspected all the letters from hopeful applicants. Most of these were from individuals with some form of experience albeit dissolute and sometimes amateurish. Others, well...
They had been separated into those "seriously considered", those who were "possibles" and the final pile of individuals whose list of skills with sharp objects would fare better learning "needlepoint".
Sa'themar was not an unkind man by any stretch of the imagination, but he said it like it was and if he felt someone was wasting his or indeed their own time, he let them know. He was fair and just, always impeccably polite and this was also conveyed in the responses he had penned to the applicants. Nonetheless, he was occasionally heard laughing out loud at some of the letters' content.
Sauren had also sniggered when he'd overheard some of the comments that passed between his father, Brett and some of the other trainers as they had ploughed through all the hopefuls.
It was during one of Sauren's secretive visits to the missions room where his heuristic method of prying proved fruitful. He knew he wanted to recruit more reliable individuals for his own purposes, and realised it was only prudent to do so within the boundaries of hopeful applicants. As they would no doubt be novices to the more regimental methods of training rogues and it being within a residential academy they could be easily moulded to his needs.
He'd sat behind the great desk, feet propped up on its edge and leisurely viewed the pile of successful applicants. They came from all over the Eastern Kingdoms, some as far north as Eastweald and the Blackened Woods while others came from the south in Duskwood and Westfall.
It also surprised him to find so many female applicants. Quite a few were suitably impressive by what they had achieved so far in their own little towns and hamlets.
He pondered a little as his mind drifted to Lina Firefury. She was a truly astounding woman; magnificent in fact, in every way. He shifted in his seat; his body having just stirred with admiration of the woman. He chastised himself. This was improper - the woman, after all, was married and old enough to be his mother.
Unfortunately, his relatively newfound "need" seemed unable to disassociate itself from such women. They were... alluring and he often found himself drawn as a moth to a flame.
Grunting, he shifted some more. There was no time for such distractions. Priorities had to be carried out. He needed another bodyguard - he guffawed slightly at the idiom – and this unbidden desire of his had to be quashed. Glancing at the pile of "potentials" a name loomed up at him.
He replaced the letters he had been studying and reached out to select the one which had caught his eye. Relaxing once more in the chair he scanned the contents.
Reed Hale. He was a seventeen-year old whose uncle, a warrior from Stromgarde, had moved the family to a small hamlet on the northern border of Khaz Modan. This had resulted from the war continuing against orcs, and forces had been sent to prevent them from advancing into Southern Lordaeron.
The boy had spent his life under the shadow and supervision of his uncle, having lost his parents to plague when he was but an infant. From his uncle he learned how to fight, to provide and protect. He has been shown the way of the swordsman but it turned out not to be his forte. Instead, he had shown an aptitude for daggers.
This was encouraged by his uncle but it had now reached the stage where he could no longer tutor the boy proficiently. His skills needed honing and that was where the Crimson Blade would benefit the boy greatly. The guild itself would inherit a capable, loyal and dedicated pupil who would more than indemnify the necessary costs for his tutelage. He had the promise of an ambitious Blade in years to come.
Sauren toyed with his bottom lip as he gave the letter considerable adjudication. Why would that have ended up on the "possibles" pile instead of the "seriously considered"? He wondered.
The potential in this individual was too good to throw away. That was when Sauren made his first decision in the selection process of new trainees. Reed's application was slotted into its rightful pile.
Now, weeks later, Don would play his part and confirm or negate Sauren's initial impression of Reed Hale.
The two boys continued with their task of cleaning out the stables and time passed quickly. It was barely mid-morning when they emerged and crossed the courtyard.
The place was already a hive of industry. The odd cart still trundled in under the portcullis, laden with provisions for the rapidly increasing population within the walls of the complex.
Rows of new recruits lined the far side of the courtyard. Four trainers were calling out names and sorting the youngsters into dorms and groups. The trainees dutifully milled around and stood in their appointed lines.
Sauren eyed them all carefully. One or two looked his way. His brown eyes darkened as he noted hints of distaste behind some of those faces. He smirked. This was his domain and any who dared show disrespect would be ousted. One or two admiring glances, however, soon laid rest to the undesirables.
Don headed to the dormitories to freshen up. He would proceed afterwards in acquainting himself with the newly arrived trainees, in particular, this Reed Hale.
As Sauren proceeded to the tower which housed his rooms a pageboy came running towards him. The youngster was one of the kitchen staff's children and went by the name of Thomas. "Master Sauren," the high-pitched voice gasped.
The half-elf's stride slowed until he came to a stop just before the youngster reached him. Peeling off his gloves he stared at the boy who looked slightly nervous to be in his presence. Sauren smiled. "What is it, Thomas?"
The boy's black curls bobbed as he bounced nervously on the balls of his feet. "There is someone to see you, Master Sauren. They said they have been sent by Her Majesty, Queen Liane."
Sauren's breath caught in his throat and he felt a blush rise from somewhere on his midriff. The Queen made good on her promise so soon? "Really?" He managed, trying hard to maintain some control.
He tried to stem the sudden rush of blood south and the oddly confusing bundle of nerves which had just gripped his stomach, but he was faltering. In a bid to appear calm he cast his eyes around the courtyard, systematically nodding a greeting to those who busied themselves with their daily tasks. "Very well," he swallowed. "And where might they be?"
"In your rooms, as instructed apparently."
"Ah. Yes." Sauren's mouth twitched. "Very well, Thomas. And erm, where is my father, by the way?"
"I believe he left an hour ago on business. Somewhere in the Hinterlands, I think."
Sauren inwardly sighed with relief. If the "guest" was who he suspected they were, then he most certainly did not want his father looking for him at an inopportune moment. This also meant that Brett would be at his father's side, so no more training for the time being.
"Thank you," Sauren said.
The pageboy inclined his head in a small bow then scampered off towards the dining hall.
It took the platinum-haired young man a few moments to find the nerve to put one foot in front of the other. This was something he had looked forward to often enough, but now the time was here, he found himself extremely nervous.
He had overheard men boasting of their conquests and by all accounts, they seemed to have left the women gasping, satisfied and hungering for more. Other than the basic mechanics of it all, he knew not what would be considered pleasurable or acceptable.
His nervousness was rooted more from the fear that he would be a miserable failure in the most natural thing known to all species. His confidence in all other matters was contributive to someone with ample experience in life and perhaps more mature. In this matter, however, Sauren was indeed vestal.
He paused at the bottom of the spiral stairs. Nerves or not, the chafing against his britches was becoming most uncomfortable. He tried to adjust himself before he started what seemed to be an inordinately long climb to his rooms.
Even his hair was adhering to his face. He tugged it back, slipping it behind his ears, cursing that he felt so uncomfortably warm and sweaty.
He was only half a dozen stairs up when the stable odour hit his nostrils. He groaned. Gods be cursed! He had some alluring concubine waiting for him and he stank of horse manure. How to make a good first impression, he thought. This was going from bad to worse; not at all how he had envisioned it.
He halted and took a few deep breaths. Then he recalled how the Queen herself had reacted around him. She had been aroused by him, of that he was certain. He remembered the lecherous look in her eyes at the banquet and the husky tone of her voice as he lay in bed, slowly reaching consciousness following his over-indulgence – "Oh, if only you weren't so young." A Queen, no less!
Fair enough, he was not dressed in his finest, nor did he smell good. But, he was still Sauren Nightflame and the Queen had promised him one of her ladies who, being expert in such matters, would tend to his needs. That being the case, his current appearance would be of no consequence. The lady would not want it known that she had failed in a task set by Royal Decree.
His deliberation altered his viewpoint and suddenly he felt a little calmer. He was more like himself. With one more deep breath, he ascended the remaining stairs.
At his door, he hesitated a mere moment and then stepped into his rooms. Closing the door quietly behind him he turned the lock and heard its metallic click. His eyes scanned the large room.
Its opulence could not fail to impress anyone who set foot inside. It was furnished with plush comfortable longues and armchairs with a large fireplace surrounded by a decorative mantle. The windows were dressed in rich heavy drapes pulled back in deep folds and secured by ornamental cast-iron tiebacks. Large sumptuous rugs of the softest fur adorned the floor, removing the chill from the wooden boards.
Such luxury and yet, no-one was there. Briefly, he felt his heart sink, but then a soft voice came from within the bedchamber.
He remained where he was. He reminded himself that this woman was here to serve him and so he would have her come looking for him. It was not long before a slender leg appeared around the partition between the rooms. A gossamer veil slid down the thigh and vanished again. The sight had left the young virgin a little awestruck once more.
"Master Sauren?" A velvet voice spoke his name.
"Y – yes!" He inwardly fumed at the break in his voice.
Soft laughter floated through from the bedchamber. His eyes were riveted to the edge of the wall which separated the two areas of the large quarters. Then from behind the partition, a beautiful woman appeared.
Sauren made a concentrated effort to keep his mouth closed. She was stunning. Obviously a good few years older than himself, she possessed a most copacetic presence. Her hair was like an autumn evening sunset, vibrant copper and it fell in luxurious waves over her right shoulder, covering her naked breast and down to her waist. Around her left arm, the gossamer scarf coiled and rippled as she held up her arm and beckoned him with a slow, seductive motion of her hand.
"Come now. Do not be shy." She said. "I will make of you a man this day."
He felt himself drifting towards her as if pulled by an invisible force; such was her allure. Before he could stop himself he uttered the most pathetic words. "I thought you would arrive at night."
The woman did not mock him, instead, she smiled reassuringly. "Such intimacy is not only for under the cover of darkness, Sauren. It is for any time of day. Pleasure is not ruled by a clock."
He smiled, nervously. His brief assured countenance had vanished entirely. But in its place, a desperate hunger had evolved.
"You have such a charismatic smile," the woman said, almost purring as her fingertips brushed the corners of his lips.
He faltered and glanced at the floor. "I – I apologise, I am ..." He groaned as he observed his stained attire. "Well, I am filthy! Not befitting of a woman so beautiful..."
She cupped his chin and gently lifted his head. His eyes travelled up her legs, rested on her pubic mound for a few moments and then proceeded up over her exposed breast before finally reaching her eyes. They were startling green. "A little muck on a man is good, but worry not, it will be taken care of." She smiled and ran the tip of her tongue over her lips.
Again his mouth trembled. "What is your name?" He breathed, painfully aware of other more insistent twitching within his britches.
"Maya," she replied. Her eyes studied him closely. She took his hand and placed it on her breast. He audibly gasped.
"We have had a bath prepared for you." Maya cooed, caressing the back of his hand, tracing his slender fingers and pressing them against her flesh.
Sauren stumbled back a step. "We?" His eyes widened as another gentle peal of laughter came from his bedchamber. Maya stepped back, pulling him with her to the open doorway.
There sitting on his bed, with arms stretched along the length of the headrest, and legs crossed at her ankles was another extremely attractive woman. This one was blonde, her hair pulled up in a high knot, the tresses of which, similarly to her friend were draped over her very full breasts. She had a voluptuous figure with rounded hips and a gentle curve to her belly. She was exquisite in Sauren's eyes.
"Hello." Her voice was as sultry as Maya's. "I am Leola."
The platinum-haired virgin was rendered speechless. Maya tugged playfully on his tunic. "Are you going to strip, Sauren? Or shall we do it for you?"
The boy laughed, a mixture of his avidity and euphoria taking hold as he glanced from one seductress to the other.
Her Majesty, Queen Liane, had just climbed his ladder of favoured acquaintances. She had more than exceeded his expectations.
With a ripple of mischievous mirth, the two women descended upon a more than eager Sauren.