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Glen
The soft Spring of War
-Leopard at the Gates-
Part I
(The indulgence of noble folk)
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Lady Isla Reeves was tall for a woman, but elegant. If you had to describe her with one word, that would have been it. She’d her long dark brown hair caught in a loose bun and wore a beautiful red-gown with gold details at its bell-shaped sleeves, with a black satin bodice over it, modestly open at the front to showcase the swelling of her breasts.
She turned to look at him, when he entered this smaller chamber. The long table at the middle hinting this was used for official dinners and it wasn’t her private quarters, while the two large windows on the south wall, offered another angle at the city of Rida from above. Isla Reeves resembled her grandfather only in the eyes and her chin, her rotund face pleasant and unblemished, with a straight nose complementing her high girlish cheeks.
Glen guessed she was around twenty-five, almost a decade younger than his ‘father’.
“Do approach, dear Lord Reeves,” Lady Isla said, in a refined feminine voice. Rather agreeable to his ears. “Unless you wish to forgo with the etiquette, in which case, you’ll have to call me Isla,” She kept her amber eyes on him, as he walked to her a bit awkwardly and still rattled after his meeting with Duke Gideon.
“Lady Isla,” Glen said with a small bow of the head. His best of the day no less, and he almost patted himself on the back for that. “Gratitude. I’ve grown up away from the court.”
“You have, but other than these dreadful clothes, I wouldn’t have guessed it,” She replied, left side of her mouth rising in a half-smile.
Glen frowned, these being his best and only set of clothing he owned. Only set of armor and boots. Whatever he’d stolen from the corpse basically, but for the armor. Lady Isla moved, while he was distracted and reaching, placed a soft and rose-smelling palm on his right cheek, her fingers tracing the lines on his face and nose. The gesture intimate and weird, or so it appeared to him, not because Glen minded having a fine woman touching him, but because this was his ‘aunt’.
He had to keep that in his mind at all times.
“You look nothing like Glenavon,” Lady Isla noted softly, examining his face with purpose. “But you have the Reeves eyes,” She pulled her hand back. “Which I suppose, gave you points with my father.”
“As do you,” Glen said with difficulty. Isla was well into his personal space and she made it difficult for him to keep a clear head.
“I don’t question his decision, Lord Reeves—”
“Glen, will suffice,” He corrected her, a little more sternly, than he’d preferred to.
Lady Isla flushed from her exposed long neck to her face and stepped back, a folding handheld fan in her hands, she used to cool off, while looking at him with renewed interest.
“Apologies,” Glen said quickly. “My manners, need refinement.”
“Your father was like that,” Lady Isla replied. “It’s as if he stepped into you just now…” She trailed her words, eyes glassy and stared away for a moment to collect herself. “It’s difficult to accept, I’ll never see him again. It’s been a year, but it still hurts.”
More than yer father’s death?
“You were close then?” He asked instead.
Lady Isla breathed once deeply and turned her eyes on the young Lord Reeves.
“That’s a question, I can’t answer in here,” She whispered coolly.
“I’m not sure I understand,” Glen murmured taking her que, glancing about the empty room. Then again, with so many doors around them –eight in his latest count- one could never be certain, there were no eavesdroppers.
Why would they spy on her though? Or perhaps it’s me.
“Eventually, you’ll hear about it, Glen,” Lady Isla said wryly.
Ah.
Whoa!
“I’d like to meet your mother,” Lady Isla continued, her gaze had changed now and a strange fervor -hidden before- surfaced. “Glenavon’s secret wife.”
Glen cleared his throat, too much weird signaling and obscure bits of information thrown at him all at once and after all that had transpired earlier with the Duke, the young man felt overwhelmed, as he hadn’t had the time to process anything yet.
“She died giving birth to me,” He managed to say, Isla’s stare on him turning uncomfortable and even her nervous fanning, holding now a different meaning. She’s a fine grown woman, ye couldn’t begrudge his… Darn it! He cursed inwardly, stop it ye fool! Fuck is the matter wit you?
“Then she wasn’t around,” Isla thought out-loud. “Perhaps it’s the reason he never mentioned her to me,” She kept her eyes on his for a moment, before adding. “Or my father.”
“You can have the manor in Altarin,” Glen said, in an attempt to change the subject.
“Aww, sweet young Glen,” She replied with a bitter smile, folding the small fan and putting it away. “I never much cared about it and I have this feeling, most of us will never make it out of Rida.”
The last part taking Glen by surprise.
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Marcus fought to keep up with him as he dashed down the stairs of the Pyramid, his many attempts at initiating a conversation shut down by Glen, with mostly grunts, followed by ‘later’.
The official at the base stopped him and waited patiently for him to catch his breath. Glen was covered in sweat and probably smelled like unwashed feet, but the man kept everything professional.
“The Duke has some quarters, readied for you, my Lord,” The well-groomed man in uniform announced.
“Well, I’m grateful,” Glen replied and smacked his lips, mouth dry and tasting of wine. “But I have a wife staying at an inn, near the harbor. I wish to see her.”
“The Lord is married,” The official droned, cataloguing the detail for later.
“And tired,” Glen said, fighting to keep it civil.
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
“The rooms will be available, in your return, Lord Reeves,” The man relented and stepped out of their way.
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“Lad, ye have to tell me what happened,” Marcus implored him, on their long return trip to ‘The King’s Fortune’. The fact they had to drag their horses on foot after a while -due to the amount of traffic in the busy streets- not helping.
“The Duke knighted me,” Glen said, stopping at a market stall to catch his breath.
“He did? Well, that’s great news,” Marcus replied, not sounding too enthusiastic, while looking him up and down.
“What?” Glen snapped, not likening the scrutiny.
“Why did he do it?”
“What do you mean?”
Marcus shrugged his broad shoulders. “Thinking on the reason for it.”
“He felt bad, about the old man’s murder, I suppose,” Glen pushed a thick lock of hair off his face. He needed a haircut and a shave.
“Yeah, that’s not how it’s done normally,” Marcus insisted. “He didn’t know you. Rushing to knight you seems…”
“Suspicious?” Glen added, since the ex-Decanus didn’t finish his thought, a frown marring his scarred face.
“I wouldn’t know, lad.”
“You just hinted at it,” Glen insisted.
“Nah, just thought it weird is all.”
Glen puffed his cheeks out and then pushed the air to the front, in order to balloon the upper side of his mouth, turning into a frog-like creature. Marcus gave him the time to think looking away, by now well-versed in Glen’s peculiar facial expressions, when in contemplating mode.
“I think my father was sleeping with my aunt,” The young man finally said, after letting all the air go.
Marcus did a double take. “Milord? Surely ye don’t mean his sister?”
“Half-sister,” Glen said, looking around them, but while seven out of ten people close by, were sneaky as all hells and probably crooks, no one stood out enough.
Yet.
“That’s… well, noble folk tend to mix it up wit themselves,” Marcus supposed and Glen raised a brow. “Ever heard the saying, ‘keep it in the family’?”
Glen hadn’t.
He’d heard another though.
If ye wanna lose yer purse, spend time in the market.
“Anyway,” The young knight continued. “We need to get moving, Marcus. There are at least four people fixin’ to rob us blind, closing in from all sides.”
Marcus looked around, a frown on his face.
“How can ye tell, lad?” He asked perturbed and Glen responded nonchalantly, with a smug shrug.
“Tis a family secret.”
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Sen-Iv looked like an oasis in the desert. Fine-smelling and fresh out of the still scented water of her bath barrel, her long black hair curling and her wet chemise giving him a fantastic view of her breasts.
She looked even more attractive without her makeup on, also her face was off and as a matter of fact, Glen had thought he’d entered the wrong room, for a brief moment.
“Glen,” Sen whispered, stepping back to allow him entry. “You… are smelling, something awful.”
Yep, that’s her, Glen decided and burst in, leaving muddy prints on the floor.
“Ye always answer yer door like that?” Glen griped and went to seat on their bed, Sen-Iv moving faster than a leopard cutting him off and shoving him towards the barrel. “What are ye doing woman?” He protested, turning around to glare at her.
“Punish me, if you wish, but dear husband you need a bath,” Sen replied, standing her ground.
“I’m not gonna…” Glen groaned in frustration. “I spent half a day walking, in order to get here.”
“What happened to your horse?” Sen-Iv asked, while untying his breeches.
“Well, there was too much traffic. It was either walk, or run people over,” Glen explained, looking at her taking his sword and dagger. She went and placed them on the floor, along with his shirt.
“Most Lords, wouldn’t think twice about it,” Sen commented, with a smile and tried to push his leather pants down. “Are these fused… they won’t budge.”
“Yeah, Zola gave them to me,” Glen said, looking at her efforts with interest. Mostly her fleshy tits moving under her thin chemise.
“Zola is… a friend?” Sen-Iv asked, stepping back, her tone indifferent.
“Yeah. She’s wit the Gallant Dogs,” Glen explained, frowning as he remembered his missing friends. “I hope they made it out safe.”
“I can’t get them off,” Sen said troubled. “How do you do it?”
“I don’t,” Glen explained. “Haven’t removed them since.”
Sen nodded and glanced at the bath barrel.
“What?” Glen asked.
“I need to change into dry clothes, can you manage it? Or should I call on the girls?” She explained.
“To do what?” Glen queried narrowing his eyes.
“Help you bathe, dear,” Sen-Iv replied without batting an eyelash.
Glen blushed. “I need no help, woman!”
“That’s nice,” Sen said, unperturbed to his outburst. “This is a very small bath for three people.”
It took Glen a full minute to realize what his Cofol wife meant.
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“WHO IS IT?” Glen barked at the third annoying knock, submerged up to his neck into the lukewarm soapy water, his eyes glued on a naked Sen, sitting cross-legged on the bed across from him and slowly plucking invisible hairs off her right shin, with a bejeweled silver tweezer.
“It’s Stiles, milord.”
“What do you want?” He snapped, livid at the interruption.
“There’s some commotion to the streets, milord.”
“So what?” Glen asked, as Sen-Iv gave him a side glance and went to work on her other leg. He’d more important stuff to do, than dealing with whatever it was that had Stiles rattled.
“Can I come in, milord?” Stiles probed. “It’s not looking good.”
“I’m taking a bath, you fool!”
“I’ll throw something on,” Sen-Iv informed him and stood up.
No, damnit!
“Milord?” Stiles was heard perturbed.
Luthos balls caught in a bear trap!
“Come in, ye fiend!” Glen relented with a growl, gulping down some of the bath water that had started smelling rather bad and tasted even worse.
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“Milord,” Stiles glanced at the cloaked Sen and then at him, still relaxing in his barrel. Glen wasn’t going to get out, until his toes started freezing. This was a fantastic activity, he’d never thought of trying in the past. At least to this level. Not that he could, seeing he’d rarely stayed in a room, before this year. “Are you well?”
Huh?
“Stiles, people of my station,” Glen started, assuming a haughty look. “Clean up themselves after a journey and don’t walk about covered in shit. Isn’t that right, Sen?”
“My master is correct,” She replied in her whispery voice.
Stiles dumbfounded expression showed his ignorance of finer etiquette.
“It’s alright, don’t worry about it. You can use the barrel, after I’m done,” Glen said, now in a generous mood. “What happened?”
“Ahm, there’s… word on the streets,” Stiles mumbled, snapping out of it. “People are rioting.”
“Why are they… what’s the word?” Glen asked and tried to stand up, his feet sliding on the sludge at the bottom of the barrel and failing.
“Marcus went to find out, milord,” Stiles explained.
“I’ll be down in a minute,” Glen said with a sigh. Well, the next minute was spend in an awkward silence, until Glen finally broke it.
“Come over here and help me get out of the barrel, Stiles.”
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