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Glen
Why, thank you dear
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There was despair in that voice.
Even a little panic.
“PULL HARDER, YE LILY LIVERED MONKEY!” Stiles bellowed, veins popping on his neck and both hands on the side fastener.
“HE’S TOO FAT!” Liko replied almost as loud and deeply affronted, hanging desperately from the shoulder leather strands to put more weight on them, feet barely touching the ground.
“No, I’m not!” Glen protested, sounding strained and full of indignation.
“Yes, ye are. Ye eat too fuckin’ much!” Liko accused him, voice dripping vitriol.
“ENOUGH!” Emerson thundered, putting a stop to the spectacle. “It’s tight enough, Mr. Stiles.”
“I second that,” Glen agreed and the knight cast him a glare to keep his mouth shut.
“Everybody leave,” Emerson ordered them and his helpers walked out, but for Zola who stayed back, what looked like a pair of leather pants in her hands. “Let me have a look at it, lad.”
Glen turned this way and that, the better for him to look and the knight examined the bindings and the straps of hardened leather one by one. He slapped hard at the pieces of plate on his chest, riveted on the leather at the top front of the cuirass. A later addition to his rebuilt armor. Satisfied, he handed Glen a pair of mail brigandines for his upper arms and helped him secure them at the shoulders. The vambraces came as a last piece, mostly plate over hardened leather, or so the former thief thought.
“Put them on as well. I’ll run and fetch you, two plate-reinforced shoulder pads from the blacksmith,” Emerson said, sounding satisfied with how everything had gone. Glen could barely turn his torso, or breathe, the thick gambeson he had underneath as heavy and cumbersome as the leather armour.
Wearing them both would be exhausting, he thought.
“These are padded leather pants,” Zola said, just as the knight turned to head out. “Mine, but haven’t worn ‘em much.”
Glen frowned at her words.
Surely she’s kidding.
“Gratitude, Lady Zola.”
That was Emerson.
Carrying out a blatant act of sedition.
“Wait,” Glen objected, but the knight had already gone out, so he turned at the bountiful Issir woman that approached him with an alluring leer, pants in hand. “I’m not wearing, no fuckin’ woman’s pants!”
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“They don’t fit!” Glen protested, the tight pants stuck on his thighs.
“Let me see,” Zola offered, but he stopped her turning away and putting his hand out, palm opened.
“I need no help for this, woman!” He warned her.
“Pfft. Is it the open breeches? I’ve seen what ye got there lad, many a times,” Zola snickered and slapped his hands away, to try for herself, standing behind him.
It was futile.
“Are ye sure you wore that?” Glen asked, puffing hard, her breasts pushing on his back distracting.
Ever?
“I did, so stop fidgeting. Suck yer stomach in and breathe out. Push yer junk out of the way,” She advised and tried again, pulling with all her might, before he’d time to process it in his brain. The pain was immense, but Zola managed to pull the pants up all the way this time.
“Arggh,” Glen growled miserably the next second and doubled down, hands between his legs. “Oh, my god, have ye lost yer mind?”
“There,” Zola declared, standing back to examine her work. “Stop crying and push yer cock to the left side,” She advised with an evil smirk. “Yer not wearing a tunic.”
“This is madness,” Glen protested, still in considerable discomfort and made to wipe his face with a sleeve, almost peeling his nose off with the gruff iron vambrace. “Fuck, dammit!” He cried and stumbled back, just as Jinx popped her pink head through the door to look inside, as curious as a hungry cat.
“What did I miss?” The Gish asked, with a toothy grin and watched him shifting his weight from one foot to the other, in embarrassed silence, to alleviate some of the discomfort.
“Glen’s a little too well-endowed for my pants,” Zola explained, as ambiguous an explanation as Glen had ever heard. Jinx burst right in, her interest piqued.
“Nonsense,” She decided, after a small pause, looking him up and down. “Yer lying,” Glen narrowed his eyes, understandably taking it personal, but Zola was faster to respond.
“No lie,” She offered him an all knowing smile that brought some color on his cheeks. “There’s a lot of man in the boy,” Zola added and walked away towards the door pushing a dumfounded Jinx out of the way.
“I appreciate the help, Zola,” Glen said, his voice steady, chest pushed out and feeling taller, than a minute ago.
“Any time, milord,” Came her reply, before she walked outside. Her words heartening and full of future promise, such as only an older woman could offer and a younger man appreciate.
“Fuck are ye doing?” Jinx hissed, almost in his ear, snapping him out of his reverie. “Are ye serious?”
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“Huh?” Glen snapped angry, stumbling back to avoid her spittle getting him in the face. “Twas a compliment!”
“Yer a darn fool,” Whisper retorted, grimacing as if she’d swallowed something sour. “Don’t go about thinking there’s more than that to her words. Her addiction to cock is legendary!”
Glen stared at her silently after that outburst. Then at his boots. Smacked his lips at the end of it and took a deep breath. In through the nose and out the mouth.
“I honestly can’t see anything wrong with that,” He replied at last at the gawking expectant Jinx. “What?” The young man queried, seeing her recoil in horror. “It’s the god’s darn truth!”
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Half an hour later they stood afore the newly constructed barricade, the opening where the door would be, the latter an euphemism, blasting cold air through that blew Glen’s hair back and chilled his ears something fierce.
“Right then,” Former Decanus of the Legion Marcus boomed, staring at the young man standing next to a still miffed Jinx, trying to keep his teeth from rattling and failing. “You’re okay there, milord?”
“F..ine, do… go on, Mr. Saunio,” Glen managed to say.
“Armour seems a nice fit, milord,” The hale man pointed with a smile.
Glen nodded, a tear traveling back towards his sideburns slowly.
“Are we finished, Spurius?” Emerson asked, not one for small talk. The former Centurion snorted, looking at the almost a hundred meters long wall of logs.
“If yer asking if it will stop an army, I’ll counter ye need an army for that,” He replied. “Want us to close it up? We can bar the cover from the inside.”
“How fast can you do it?” Emerson probed.
“Less than five minutes,” He looked through the three meter wide opening, the pass extending as far the eye could see, the mountain slopes cut vertical, the rock walls on each side intimidating. “Reckon it’s fast enough.”
“Aye,” Emerson agreed and turned to stare at the rest of the people present. Dante standing with his back on the barricade, next to the opening to better avoid the draft, the only one the knight couldn’t see. “We need to know, what’s coming. If it is at all,” He said, crooking his mouth in a grimace, the cold getting to him probably, Glen thought with a shiver. It shook him to his core.
“Ye should’ve worn yer coat,” Jinx said, fur leather jacket leaving only her eyes showing and her small forehead.
“I know,” Glen replied, hearing bits and pieces of the discussion, between Emerson and the soldiers. “Thought we would just look at the damn thing from afar, or something.”
Like from the castle walls for instance, he thought.
Over a fire.
Cup of hot tea in hand.
“Plus ye wanted to showcase yer new armour,” Jinx added.
“Yeah,” He reluctantly admitted, eyeing her sturdy jacket suspiciously. “Where did ye get that?”
“Had it all the time,” The Gish lied.
“No, ye didn’t.”
“Hmm, ye might be right,” Jinx relented, raising a pink brow. “I found it, a couple of days ago.”
“You found it?” Glen asked, turning his head.
“Remember those bandits, or whatever,” Jinx looked at him suggestively.
“What was that?” Glen asked, stooping towards her a bit.
“I told ye,” She replied firmly, shoving him back.
“No you didn’t. I heard nothing!” Glen protested.
“I whispered,” The Gish clarified. “Not my fault ye have a hearin’ problem.”
Luthos shriveled cold balls!
“You took it from their corpses?” He asked with a sigh, a bit weirded out, before catching himself. He was being hypocritical here, if he was being honest. Jinx though, didn’t have to know.
“Their camp,” Jinx explained patiently. “Tracked their footprints back there. Found their stuff. The jacket was in a sack.”
Glen narrowed his eyes, not convinced this was the whole story.
“What else?” He probed.
“Couple of coins,” Jinx said dismissively. “They had visitors though, so they probably were part of a bigger gang.”
“Hmm, we better keep our eyes open. Maybe form bigger hunting parties,” He thought out loud. Jinx patted him on the arm a couple of times excited for thinking of her safety probably, the metal ringing loud. She’d a really heavy hand for such a small bodied girl.
“Lord Reeves, we would like yer input,” Emerson said, his tone patient, but cautionary. “If you’ve finished wit Lady Jinx.”
Glen cleared his throat and turned to face the expecting men. He slapped his hands and arms hard to return circulation, making a show of it and stalling for time, while assuming a solemn austere look, to hide the fact he’d no idea, what to give his input to.
“We decided to send a scouting party,” Emerson helped him, seeing through his shenanigans. “Through Hellfort’s Pass.”
Why in Luthos name…
“When you say through,” He started, realizing his nose had frozen up, unbeknownst to him. He was afraid to move the darn thing for fear of it breaking. “How far are we talking about?”
“Do you intent on taking it upon yerself, milord?” The knight asked, a little surprised.
Well, not what I was suggesting, Glen thought, painted into a corner out of the blue. Then again, it beats training all day, assuming one remembers to dress for the cold.
“I can do a scout mission,” He said nonchalantly.
Once a fool, twice the idiot.
“It might be a long trip,” The knight warned. “Assuming you don’t run onto company.”
Glen returned his knowing stare silent. The moment dragged, turning awkward, Marcus glancing towards a frowning Spurius, who shrugged his shoulders wanting no part of it. Everyone was waiting for him to decide, the pressure mounting, the cold biting and unforgiving.
I’m bound to lose body parts fast here.
Not to mention I stepped into a hole.
Still I can’t exactly backtrack now, without losing face.
He opened his mouth to accept the assignment, the knight’s frown showing his skepticism, even amazement for his newfound courage, when Jinx stooped and whispered in his frozen ear, stopping him dead.
“He means Cofols, milord. The army.” Pretty explained.
Oh, crap.
Ahm, dodge.
Say something you fool!
“Perhaps a more prudent approach is needed,” Dante commented from the wall, his Common perfectly delivered and Emerson after shaking his head at the deflated and on the verge of panicking Glen, turned towards the mercenary Captain, who finished his words poignantly, crossing his hands over his chest. “Or a more seasoned scout.”
Emerson snorted. “You’re volunteerin’ Mr. Blackwood?”
“Good grief, no,” Dante replied with a shudder, the suggestion ludicrous to him. “Jinx is the best option here.”
“Fuck you very much, love,” Jinx said all sugary and Dante deadpanned, not batting an eyelid.
“Why, thank you dear.”
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