Ch: 154 …I Can Make You A Man
Protocol and noble duty required the nobles to lodge as guests in the palace with a bodyguard commensurate with their respective ranks. As dukes in their own right, Holloman the elder, Rummel and Mubarak could be accompanied by up to three guards.
They, as a matter of hospitality, honor and tradition, were accompanied by a single, lightly armed retainer as an honor guard.
Baron Holloman rated a single guard, who he had in his full panoply and bearing a shortspear whose point was scabbarded and tied in place.
Leroy felt a fool, marching about the town in armor. Even the city guard wore only leather and carried staves… in town at least.
They seemed quite martial, outside the walls. That lent credence to some awful rumors and gossip about slavers and murder he had heard in Port Ellis, when last he passed through…
The baron was determined to find some hedge witch that rumor and speculation said Belen had found somewhere. Leroy’s unenviable task was to follow his lord and keep him safe.
Wheatford was the kind of town where a garden society member could step on a rake and the news would be on every tongue for a week. Dull, pleasantly, wonderfully dull, orderly and clean.
Or it had been, as the baron’s winding path and constant inquiries carried them into the market ward, the guards were much more alert and proactive than even in most fringe townships.
Spears and man-catchers were on display, as they patrolled in trios, alert and dangerous. Belen was a mercenary town at its heart and the guards had the look of veterans.
Veterans who were not going to be answering any questions for the baron. Likewise, the common people clenched up tighter than a wallowbear’s butthole when his lordship pressed the issue.
“Cursed commoners… I’ve never known them to be so tight lipped.” He grumbled at his guardian. “Let’s swing by the orphanage, take a peek at Otho’s latest crop, I fancy expanding my stable.” He mused, speaking to himself, not Leroy.
“...I might sell Orlando, he’s unexceptional.”
Leroy ground his teeth and followed, a step behind and to the left, as dictated by tradition. They walked to the Adventure compound, only to be halted at the gate.
“Requests and inquiries may be filed here at the gate, my lord, but the compound is closed to non members. Would you like to request an appointment?”
“This place has never been closed to me before! I demand to speak with Otho!” Holloman snapped at the middle aged, one handed man in the green silk cap.
“Master Otho, Beloved of Joy and Cowl’s First Celebrant… is unavailable… if that is who you meant.” He replied, icily.
Just as icy was the feeling in baron Holloman’s indenture contract to Leroy. Cold, frozen refusal.
“Yes… Well, I will return.” He sputtered lamely, as he spun on his heel and stomped away.
#
Seahorse cruised down stream with Shai at the tiller and Gary in a loose puddle of limbs at her feet, snoring loudly. She leapt to the pier, long legs flashing as the music from the common room took her.
“Wake yerself boy! I’m fer the dance!” She chided, while prodding him with a boathook. In the end, Tallum and Harlan came down to haul him up to the house.
They dumped him on a sunny patch of lawn beside the private pool. Shai concentrated for a few seconds, causing herself a headache and making his clothes vanish into his storage gift. That would be fun later…
She left him sprawled out face down in the late afternoon sun, buns up naked.
A group of orphans were on the little stage in the common room, making a delightful ruckus with a mixture of Gary’s shop instruments and their personal noisemakers.
Their setlist hit all the local favorites and they played well, as a tight knit band. All in their late teens, they wore red ascots and seemed very athletic, even by Wheatford orphan standards.
Mustafa was big, wide and muscled like a prize racehorse, his wispy and inconsistent mustache sapped a little of his intimidating presence though. He didn’t hammer the drum kit, he played it, with care and precision. No wasted energy, steady as a waterclock and buoyant, somehow his fills and runs seemed to take flight like startled birds.
Ingrid strummed and strutted behind her bass, her pretty gray eyes sparkling with mischief. At every opportunity the pale brown haired girl would launch a slap bass solo and take the band to a funky place, before taking them back home safely.
Lean and quick, she had a runner’s build and seemed tireless, even while dancing with an instrument that looked to weigh more than herself. She danced like a wisp of spiderweb on the breeze, drifting here and there weightlessly.
Sammy clutched the weird guitar with the metal disk built in, as though he was afraid it would melt in his hands. While also looking like he intended to lick it off his fingers with sensual delight, if it did…
The kid could play though. He showed Otho and Dannyl’s tutelage, with a smooth strumming, folk friendly grace. Handsome, fit and dark haired, he had rugged good looks, rather than Liam’s anime protagonist, chiseled perfection.
Waldor Penzel was an outlier, the son of a local innkeeper, Wyeth Penzel, rather than an orphan. His flute work was impressive, carrying much of the band’s melody and the whole upper register, on his pursed lips.
He played with a hunger in his eyes and had an Adventurer’s badge pinned proudly beside the masks of Joy, Knowledge’s autumn leaf and the sunrise crest of Light.
A few other red ascots circulated on the dance floor, moving with grace that was hard to miss. One was swift and smooth, the other sure and almost ponderous in his movement. Two men, obviously twin brothers, and just as obviously identical, though one could never be mistaken for the other.
Saul was a lean and acrobatic dancer, with tremendous leaps and stunning tumbles carrying him around the floor. Isaac was muscular, precise and measured in every movement, but seemed to exude an aura of strength under restraint.
Colette’s long chocolate brown ringlets and athletic dance moves always attracted attention, as did her snug bodice of low cut and brightly embroidered linen. Her olive skin, dark eyes and sinuous, twining dance drew eyes and created smiles on the dance floor, as her deep scarlet skirts twirled.
A string of brass and bronze bells tinkled at her hips, as well as left ankle and right wrist, adding depth and whimsey to her band’s music. Her scarlet ascot held her hair back framing her smiling face.
Together with Becky and Shai, they controlled the dance floor, drawing in and exhausting any poor fool that wandered too close. There was no shortage of fools to choose from.
Nobles kept trickling in, singly and in groups, throughout the day, by carriage and boat. The number and variety of craft that tied to the bank and piers kept growing, as magically powered or sail driven boats drifted in.
While the primaries found the palace diverting, the commoners and indentured warriors that formed the greater part of the average noble entourage had less refined tastes.
The orphanage was bustling and rapidly became the spot for any qualified orphan to lodge. The local inns and temple lodges filled rapidly as well.
#
“We are not licensed as a tavern or inn, sorry we only barter…” Ivy explained to yet another group of merchants and trade guild leaders.
“Nope, can’t sell chocolate either… Talk to the cult of Order and the Trade Association… Barter only, until the Patissier’s lawsuit ends. Why don’t you go buy theirs?”
Ivy grinned at the richly dressed merchant and winked. “Right, cause theirs is awful. Sorry your ladyship, we have no chambers to let and no provender that can be sold for coin.”
Lady Jaspreet strolled in the door, on the arm of her sister, Baroness Leticia Hind. “Ivy darling, do you have space for my sister?” She spotted the woman at Ivy’s bar and sang out happily. “Emma, my dear…!”
Poor Ivy groaned as yet another person joined the already crowded inn. Becky, Nara, and the three little ones were all bunked together, freeing up two rooms that were vacant at night anyway, since both women despised sleeping alone and were voracious snugglers.
Ivy refused to move back into the orphanage, since Tallum would not be allowed… that was a non-starter. They did move into Becky’s room in the carriage house temporarily, for some space, if nothing else.
Herlick and Bannock had regretfully decamped for their own quarters in the temples of War and Order.
Dannyl had moved back to the dorms with no provocation, it was the place to be.
A bit of re-shuffling with Shai’s help and a bit of what Gary called ‘gaslighting’, had a number of nobles in the bridal party lodging at Shai’s inn… For an undisclosed time and an undisclosed compensation.
They were fun guests though… and as noblewomen went these were less noble and more just women. Wealthy, but not ten servants and six maids wealthy.
Baroness Leticia was in the lumber trade, not directly, but she knew what it took to get her harvest in. She was a regionally well known figure in trade and carpentry circles, being able to source almost any lumber through her vast network of friends.
Lady Emma Fernlowe was in the Adventure trade, managing her family’s stable of indentured Adventurers very successfully. Extraordinarily successfully, despite having no experience or training in the field.
#
Tawny was back in the palace… as was proper for the unwed daughter heir. Liam took on the role of the duchess heir’s bodyguard, staying in the chambers attached to her suite for such guardians… officially.
Duke Belen had fixed the first noble bold enough to make a comment about the handsome guardian’s possible nighttime duties, with a deadly glare.
Liam remained strictly professional in public, staying at her side and slightly behind during official functions and remaining rigidly decorous, no matter how she teased him.
The beautiful, gregarious and immensely popular young heiress was already striking and attracted a lot of attention. Her improbably handsome escort and the general aura of excitement and mystery about the much rumored young duo was a potent attraction as well.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
A coterie of young noble and merchant women gathered wherever they lingered; with the fun and games beginning shortly thereafter.
“Oh, Liam… Sarafina has dropped her fan, be a dear and pick it up please…?” As he invariably found the object to have been dropped in a corner or other tight space, he was always forced to turn away to pick it up… again.
The giggles and soft gasps of delight had been flattering, if embarrassing as well, at first. Now he just felt like a piece of meat on a line, over a shark tank.
“Tawny, your tailor is a miracle worker… or is the miracle inside those trousers?” Bernadette asked in a whisper designed to carry to his ears.
“Both actually… The tailor is skilled, but his backside…” Tawny began before She caught the look he shot her. “I’ll show you some sketches later…” She whispered more softly, earning another look.
“Tawny, it’s embarrassing…” He hissed in a quiet, private moment. “You can’t keep showing sketches of my ass to your friends…”
“Those drawings are art Liam. ART!” She hissed in mocking tones of superiority. “Don’t worry, I’ll show them the ‘Nightsoil Terrors’ collection too, not just Dannyl’s studies of that glorious rump of yours.”
“Oh, well in that case… wait.. Why should embarrassing Gary help me?” He demanded quietly.
“Ask Becky about that, perhaps she knows… It does help right? Knowing that Gary will do that thing, where he complains, but secretly finds as much amusement in it as anyone.” Tawny replied with a knowing smile and a pinch of the much discussed bottom.
In an instant, she was once more the dutiful heiress, when a group of lesser nobles strolled into the section of the garden they were hiding in.
“Lady Constance, lords Ferril and Witcomb… have you seen the greenhouse? We have some lovely orchids, let me show you…”
#
Every once in a while one of the gang would come out and roll the boy over, for even toasting. The opportunity to arrange him in hilarious poses was just extra fun.
“No, that’s just rude… make it look like he passed out drunk, I’ll conjure some fake vomit.”
Dannyl looked at his sister sadly. “You can touch this cosmic power and all you can think of is fake barf?”
“He’s already naked and hilariously out of it… don’t take this in a weird direction Dannyl.” Becky had a warning tone in her voice.
“Make you a high priestess and all the sudden, no more fun…” He grumbled.
“You can draw him in any humiliating scenario you could imagine and everyone would believe it… leave him this at least, for pity’s sake.” She nudged the insensible mook with the toe of her slipper.
“Besides, what if Shai checks on him next? She’ll laugh off a humiliating pose or a shameful diaper…”
“Gods Becky, I just wanted you to conjure a seat of some kind and some flour, so we could pose him like a garden statue… what did you think I was planning?”
“Curse Gary and his ‘hentai’... Marduk keeps reading those weird picture books and they creep into my dreams.”
Becky complained, just a second too late, she realized she had let slip the dark secret she shared with Shai.
Gary was too uptight to ever openly admit to, never mind reveal the quantity and general weirdness of, his porn consumption. Esperanza had an inkling of the depths of depravity lurking under those messy locks.
The true nature and scope of the smut collection irrevocably inscribed in his soul was breathtaking.
“Picture books?” Dannyl asked breathlessly. “He has books of pictures, like art?” He trembled with excitement, nearly vibrating.
“I feel like I’m on the edge of something, I need some energy, vision, space, a new vista, or a fight, if I’m gonna get there… Art from another world… maybe.”
“Yeah, art books, of artists’ work… he has those.” Becky sighed her relief slowly and carefully. “I’ll start curating a selection for you tonight, with Thirp.”
“Thanks Becky, I need to get this sorted out. I might be ready for another Contract…” He paused for a moment with a wide, happy smile.
“Tell your spider goddess friend, I love her work… very tasteful.” He said as he walked away
#
That night, Gary was still out cold in his bed in the other house, zonked. Ducky, Becky, Shai and Thirp stood over him, or clung to the wall… different strokes.
“He’s like a moth, stuck in his own chrysalis… he will escape when the time is right and conditions are favorable.” Thirp sang softly.
“It took a moment of careful thought to see it. The pair of you, Shai and Gary must rank up together. Pushing him harder at this point is not going to help.”
Shai nodded happily. “Truth be, I hae been holding off, lest we both hae as much troubles. I would nae hae both of us in this state.”
“Good instincts my dear, but misdirected. Your bond is too tight, he is trying to drag you into iron rank all unready; like a spiderling still anchored to her parent’s web, while trying to sail on a thread in the breeze.” Thirp sang softly.
“You must let go and sail with him, wherever you fly. together.”
Shai nodded, and gave Thirp’s free hand a squeeze. She was in a curvaceous and busty bipedal form with six arms… there were plenty of free hands.
“Thirp… would ye Contract wi me, tonight?”
“Oh sweet Shai…!” Thirp tried to bob on her knees in spidery exultation and nearly fell, having only two at the moment. She was very top heavy, even discounting the eight arms.
“Those be some mighty bosoms, fer an entity whae dinnae usually hae boobs.” Shai remarked as she steadied her new deity.
“My new worshipers are very… enthusiastic. You will see when you join my cult… I made them hold a place for you, especially my love.” Thirp dashed into the house and reemerged in her much more familiar spider form.
Together, they vanished into Shai’s personal island.
“Should we form another Contract, Ducky? Most clergy have at least two bonds with their deity.” Becky asked, sitting on the bed beside Gary, watching Shai and Thirp dash off.
“No, Becky. We are bonded so tightly already, your soul would begin to suffer stress were another Contract sealed between us directly.” He mulled it over for a moment.
“Becky, have you ever considered a fae Contract, or an outsider? There is a cat spirit a few worlds downvoid, he is a little cursed, but that is more a matter of perspective…”
“You mean the big white one with the red ribbon around his neck and that iron bell?” She shuddered.
“No thanks… Contracting with Shiro the Nekomancer would get me burned at the stake in some towns.”
“Perhaps Thirp will have some insights when she returns…”
#
Thirp strode back in a new form, four armed, four legged and furred all over in white. She was still very clearly on the beautiful feminine side of the humanoid spider spectrum, but much more stable.
“Ahhh, that fresh Contract feeling!” She chirped happily.
“Ducky and I were thinking about my next contract… Any ideas?” Becky asked after a hug with her spider friend.
“Gritzsck, the huntress comes to mind. She and Gary were incompatible, he has no love for the hunt and truly loathes violence.” She sighed in arachnid sorrow.
“It was my predatory nature that both appealed to him and made us incompatible for a Contract as well. He is deeply terrified of that part of himself.”
“Interesting.. You and I couldn’t…” Becky wondered aloud.
“You already know the answer to that. You are no huntress, a weaver of traps, nor spinner of webs, nor do you enjoy a comfy burrow of your own crafting. You will find a more compatible entity for your Contract my dear. We will always be sisters.”
“Yes we will spider sister… yes we will.” She melted into one of those hugs she had started dispensing. They felt like when Gary, or Shai hugged her… like home.
After a timeless embrace, they parted warmly. “Mmm, Dannyl said to tell you he likes your work… I don’t understand, but that’s the message.” She told the spider goddess as she was waking.
“That naughty scamp!” Thirp sang as Becky vanished.
Shai stumbled in from the orchard a few minutes later, flushed, exhausted and dizzy from forging two Contracts in one night.
“Brigid be a tough taskmistress. She did make me forge the contract in truth, wi her mighty an hefty hammer.”
She gasped as she crawled into bed with her still, slumbering mate. “Twere a job of work, but well forged, an I do say… which I do.”
That took all she had left. The poor dear began to vanish with a snore that stirred Gary in his deathlike slumber. He rolled over to embrace her and followed into normal sleep, disappearing with her.
#
Gary was up and working in the shop singing something weird, when Becky found him. He had all the windows and doors flung open to catch a fresh breeze. The place was lit brightly and had walls again, firm stone walls with lovely flowers painted on the largest stones, in the colors of childish whimsey.
There’s a li-ight,
Over at the Frankenstein place…
“Ah, Becky! Victor is awake. He’s going to be waiting tables and helping out for a few days, to learn something of incarnate life. Look out for him, please?”
He smiled up at his sister, looking more clear eyed and lively than in a while. The ragged, fresh ground edge had been honed and polished, now he seemed more sharp, than dangerous.
“He wants to see what’s happening upstairs, but doesn't know what to do first. You can be a little bossy, he won’t mind.” He turned to the slim blue armored form with the elaborate mask.
“Follow Becky’s instructions and remember the rules. I’ll be down here working.” He swatted the creature on the rump, sending him upstairs into the bustling common room.
#
Liam’s personal murdershovel was almost done and it was a beauty. Wide,. only slightly tapered to a rounded point, its hewing edges were formidable. The hefty bronze step and rigid blade were optimized for brutal chopping.
The haft of blackthorn felt alive in the hand; while a wicked, black iron knob balanced the weapon.
Fallowfield Spade, enchanted spade, ax, farm tool, spiritual enchantment. Rank, iron. Quality, unique. Elemental affinities: Earth, Death, Spirit, Life, Nature, Light, Darkness.
Effect, Ghost Whomper: Undead and spiritual entities may be struck with this weapon, regardless of tangibility.
Effect, Entropy: on wounding target, weapon may apply the following afflictions: Call Of The Grave, Entropic Decay, Unholy Vigor. Base chance to afflict, ten percent, scaled against: Rank, Might, Will, Animus, Resilience, Mind.
Call Of The Grave: curse, undead or living entities gain a heal over time effect, fueled by minor mana and energy drain. Healing energies are highly destructive to undead entities.
Entropic Decay: curse, constructs, objects and artificial entities degrade rapidly, increased effects of: friction, gravity and inertia. Mana and or magic drain.
Unholy Vigor: boon, curse, living plants damaged by spade in gardening activities gain a heal over time effect. Plant will be considered ‘haunted’ for one lunar month, after which, curse ends.
Haunted: curse, fruit or vegetal material from ‘haunted’ plant will be more magically active. Necromantic and spiritual forces will attract and adhere to any trace of ‘haunted’ material. Consuming ‘haunted’ substances is inadvisable. Consult a qualified witch before consuming.
“Multi purpose… Noice!” He cheered himself, before going back to work. That mangrove they had lumbered over Wicklowe’s bottle was burning a hole in his storage gift.
The timber felt good, like it had soaked up a lot of mojo while the poor dude had been trapped in its roots.
He’d perfected his own magical wood drying kiln a few weeks ago, using magical bullshit and his own brand of ridiculous.
Mangrove lumber, fuel, crafting material, moderate magic. This sample may accept enchantments up to copper rank plus.
“Never worked timber like this before…” He muttered, lost in the mysteries of wood grain. “Resonant… Dense, resinous…”
#
He was still down there working when Shai woke, feeling both awful and great at once. She had a swirling headache around her eyes, just a whirlpool halo of pain.
A woman she didn’t know brought her a mug of raspberry leaf and dried blackberry tea, while Gary’s armored nightmare moved between the tables gracefully enough, but with an alien, and deliberate gait.
“The comestibles you have requested, humans…” He droned softly, as plates and mugs landed on the table with care. “Consume fodder, prosper and reproduce…”
The being departed while the three sailors from the ‘Golden Spray’ dug in, after gazing at their meals in mild suspicion for a moment.
“Becky, love, why be that mad boy’s new friend waiting tables? If ye need help ye could wake me…” She mumbled into a mug of tea that seemed dangerously strong.
“Dannyl has the kids at the orphanage for music lessons with Otho, we have a full house, but everything is fine… Victor is really helpful.” Becky hugged Shai from behind and danced off to supervise her new employee.
In the kitchen, two women were working, as they chatted, preparing meals from a simple menu of local dishes. There were hot, crusty loaves, muffins and simple hand pies, along with sandwiches and sack lunches wrapped and ready to go.
They had everything in hand, managing her kitchen as though it were as familiar as their own homes.
Shai rose, once the bottom of her cup was visible and walked into the kitchen. She wasn’t miffed or feeling territorial at all… about the two chatty strangers at her stove. Not at all…
“Apologies good mistress, employees only in the kitchen!” The young brunette sang through a friendly smile. “One of the staff will be with you shortly…”
Something must have shown on her face or in her posture, because the slightly older woman with chestnut hair and flashing eyes turned on the confused smith and brandished a porridge covered wooden spoon at her.
“If I have to summon mistress Becky to resolve this, it will go poorly.”
“Now look ye here…” Shai began, building up to a simmer, about to boil over.
“Journeyman Shai,” Becky said softly behind her. “ May I present Baroness Leticia Hind and lady Emma Fernlowe of Shiraz, visiting with us and your guests, at lady Jaspreet’s request.” Becky stepped around her enormous sister with a smile. “Ladies, may I present Journeyman Shai, smith, and our hostess. The good ladies have insisted on helping out and have been an invaluable and joyful addition to our household…”
Shai’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “I did hae a good rage building… Now I must go abuse that fool of mine fer some time.” She mumbled before squaring herself back up and doing her duty by her guests.
“Be welcome ladies, an lady Jaspreet wishes ye tae lodge here, tis our pleasure tae hae thee wi us. Now I must needs go find yer host, an batter him about summat.”
“Our host… Oh, Gary… such a nice boy… He’s yours?” Leticia asked with a giggle. The two women tittered between themselves for a moment.
“A singing carpenter innkeeper is a novelty… but it’s his tailor I want to know more about…” Emma giggled in turn.
Shai’s tense and grumpy attitude drifted away like thistledown on a breeze, as she took a stool at the kitchen counter and leaned on her elbow in languid and sensual relaxation.
“He be his own tailor, an a fine one in all…” She murmured softly. “Tis nae the pants, tis the contents.. I did dance that boy near tae death in the forging of that bonny arse. T’would be a shame tae hide it in loose and draping cloth.”
She sighed long and slow to her new friends, as Gary’s voice and the rhythm of his tools drifted up from below, carried through the open windows and doors.
I’ve got a lov-ely bunch of coconuts…
“I’ll most likely murder him some fine day… till then he be fine fun.”
#