Lomdus watched as Perd the Wise was escorted to the banquet table by his niece, a proud breasted wide hipped young woman with flowing blonde locks and skin the color of old oak. The older man sighed as his body sank into the cushions of the chair, then reached forward with a shaking hand to pick up the crystal glass in front of him and sip the clear cool water it contained. Lomdus had been nervous until one of his servants had informed him that the giant had removed his armor and clothing and settled into the bath, allowing the servants to clean his garments and armor as well as his person. Now that Lomdus knew the giant would not offend the sensibilities of Lomdus' fellow lords, the statesman felt nothing but relief that they had arrived.
"Tell me, Lomdus, what is he like?" Wuln the Crafty asked, looking up from where her long nailed fingers were busy pulling strips of meat from the baked chicken breast on the plate before her. "Is he like the legends?"
"Yes, Lomdus, tell us, is he noble beyond words? Filled with the light of his God?" Shro the Elder asked, waving his son, Shro the Younger, to silence before the younger man could speak.
"Do you think he will save us in our time of need?" Merl the Shopkeeper asked, stroking his beard with beef grease shiny fingers. "We have examined his legends, and we should have the payment his God demands he ask, so will he assist us, Lomdus?"
Lomdus gave himself a moment of time to collect his thoughts by sipping at his chilled spring water, looking at each of the gathered twelve elders. Most of them were accompanied by youthful relatives or assistants. While they were eating the delicacies before them, they were paying more attention to what their own speech sounded like, and what Lomdus might have to say regarding the legendary mercenary that they all knew was somewhere within their junior member's rather modest manor, as if their speech was being recorded for posterity.
"Well, Lomdus, what is he like?" Gree the Crone asked, frowning at Lomdus' silence, her beady black eyes almost vanishing into the wrinkles on her face.
"Imposing," Lomdus answered, setting down his crystal glass and cocking his head to listen to the whispered words of his servant. According to the servant, Fraker was dressed, bathed and being led to the banquet hall as he spoke. When the servant withdrew, Lomdus smiled, raising his hands to quiet the small murmurs of conversation between a few members of the Circle of Equals.
"Friends, friends, Fraker will be here in a moment, and you can see him for yourself and ask him questions directly rather than relying on my observations." Lomdus smiled. His servant had informed him that Fraker no longer smelled like an abandoned brewery, and the greasy thatch of hair that had been hidden by the visor-less helmet was clean and presentable.
The thirteen old men and women, Lomdus included, watched the doors that led into the banquet hall expectantly. A few of them were fidgeting nervously, and even Lomdus felt butterflies in his stomach. It wasn't every day that a living legend, one of the immortals who strode the world performing tasks unknowable to mortals, graced the rulers of a small trade town with his presence, much less met with them to bestow a favor upon them.
The doors swung open, pushed by two young children dressed in blue robes with the insignia of the house of Lomdus stitched onto the sleeves. Fraker stood in the center of the doorway. Lomdus heard a few gasps from his fellow council members.
To say that the man was massive was an understatement. His shoulders nearly obliterated his neck, his rough sleeveless shirt was stretched tightly over his bulging pectorals, and he seemed to fill the hall with his presence without even stepping within it. His right shoulder sported the tattoo of a set of crossed swords in the middle of the laurel wreath with the number one below it, which silently proclaimed that the man had been part of the Iron Legion from the beginning when it was a scant handful of men rather than an entire army of highly disciplined legions. His left shoulder bore the nine skulls arranged in a V that attested that the bearer of the mark was a survivor who had served on the losing side of the massacre that had taken place at the Valley of the Stacked Skulls toward the end of the Lich King War. The mahogany skin of his forearms and biceps were crisscrossed with white scars, and his massive hands had the bumps between each knuckle that spoke of cat-like claws hidden beneath the skin. Bathing had not improved the man's face, which was still roughhewn, with a crooked nose and a mouth twisted by the scar that started above the right eye and ended at the left corner of his mouth. Fierce bloodshot brown eyes raked over the assembled elders from beneath the shaggy brown hair and the notched and fearsome axe he had dragged along the ground swung from the iron skull-buckled leather belt that held up his leather pants. A dagger stuck out of each of his leather boots, and a medallion dedicated to Lorshani, Goddess of Destruction, Carnage and Battle, bounced against Fraker's chest. Despite his fearsome appearance, Lomdus felt a surge of pleasure that Fraker looked like the hero he was supposed to be instead of a drunken vagabond.
Without a word or invitation, Fraker walked into the room with his back straight and his strides sure, sweeping past the elders sitting at the banquet table, and waited for a pair of servants to pull out his chair so he could sit down. Lomdus noted that even though Fraker was sitting down, he was as tall as any of the gathered nobles would be if they got to their feet. The chair groaned softly as Fraker settled his weight into it and then leaned forward to pluck the crystal decanter of water from the table with one hand and a glass goblet with the other.
The gathered nobles watched silently as Fraker filled the glass with water from the decanter, then drained the glass before filling it yet again until the decanter was empty. A few of the gathered elders opened their mouths to speak, then closed their mouths and settled back without a word as the giant emptied the decanter of water. Finally Fraker replaced the goblet and the decanter and settled back into the chair, his eyes sweeping over the assembled rulers.
Shro the Younger was motioning at Lomdus to speak, to break the ice so that the rest of the council would feel confident in disturbing the giant they had invited into their midst, who was now busy rending apart a roasted chicken and stuffing the chunks of meat into his mouth. No council member wanted to risk insulting the giant, and the loss of face of any insult to the renowned hero would reduce the offender's standing within the Circle. As the youngest member, Lomdus had the least to lose, and the others wanted Lomdus to take the chance that they themselves were unwilling to.
Lomdus cleared his throat carefully, gratified to see that Fraker looked up, his fingers still stripping the last scraps of flesh from what had been a whole baked chicken mere moments before.
"Honored Fraker, we represent the people of Gretlen, and we beseech you to come to our aid as we are beset by powerful enemies," Lomdus intoned, his robust voice gaining nods of approval from several of his peers.
"Yeah. You said that already," Fraker mumbled around a mouthful of biscuit that he had just sopped up chicken juices and gravy with and crammed into his maw. "Is it some type of local custom where you repeat everything at least twice?"
Gree the Crone glared at Lomdus in the silence that followed Fraker's question, her expression promising that the youngest member of the Circle of Equals would pay for obviously insulting the powerful warrior. Still, Gree was at the wrong angle to see that Fraker had motioned for Lomdus to continue in the hand signals of the trade language.
"Outlying farms have been attacked, everyone missing or murdered and the cattle mutilated. In many cases the fields of winter grain were burned or strangely withered and blighted, and more recently travelers have either never arrived here or never arrived at their destination after leaving our fair town," Lomdus continued. "When we sent our troops to search the nearby forest for bandits, only a handful returned, and all of them spoke of a demon that tore soldiers apart and feasted upon their flesh."
Fraker reached forward and tore the drumstick from a roast goose, motioning Lomdus to continue the story; the inflection signified by the twist of his wrist told Lomdus the hero was interested.
"Until we received reports of the powerful demon, the Circle of Equals thought this was little more than bandit attacks, as the High Baron Jatthew has reduced the patrols of the roads," Lomdus said, pausing to take a sip of water. "We were loathe to send any troops into the forest as it is well known that in ancient times elves lived within its depths."
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At the mention of elves, the giant took notice, turning in his chair and facing Lomdus with burning red eyes.
"Elves, you say?" he rumbled, and Lomdus nodded.
"Legend states that centuries before the Lich King War, the elven kingdom known as The Whispering Oak Kingdom was cast down and destroyed by the forces of the Stygian Wave when the elves of that kingdom rebelled against the rule of the Lich Kings." Lomdus felt uncomfortable with the burning intensity of the hero's eyes, how they looked as if they possessed an internal fire rather than being merely bloodshot. "Woodsmen who entered the forest never returned, those who entered those woods to explore and possibly loot the elven kingdom within were never heard from again, so most consider the woods cursed and avoid them."
Olik the Even Handed raised one trembling hand and addressed Fraker. "Many believed it was the spirits of the elves, howling for revenge, that were killing the farmers and their families. Many of us still believe that the spirits of the elves are doing the killings and protecting their woods with demons summoned by their undying rage," the statesman intoned in his stentorian voice.
"It is the foul magics used by the Stygian Wave to crush the elven kingdom that are tormenting us for allowing logging parties to work the edge of the forest," Fralla the Nine Fingered interjected in her nasal voice, waving a stick of celery around for emphasis. "Everyone knows that the Stygian Wave consorts with demons and foul undead. Some ill-bred logger must have disturbed something foul left behind by the Stygian Wave when they put all who lived within the forest to the sword."
Fraker sighed, shaking his massive head, his bangs swinging back and forth in front of his eyes. The motion cut off the fledgling argument between Fralla and Olikk before it could once again cause all the assembled members of the Circle of Equals to take sides and argue their point of view.
"It matters not. What matters is that Fraker the Axe is surely able to rout a handful of bandits, even if they have a demon assisting them," Shro the Younger exclaimed, his rheumy blue eyes alight as if Fraker had already agreed to take their coins. His face was flushed and his wispy gray beard trembled. "What chance do mere bandits have against an immortal hero? Surely they..."
"I'm not immortal," Fraker interrupted, tossing the denuded bone on the table and reaching forward to grab a plate that held a half dozen baked potatoes covered in sour cream with crumbled bacon sprinkled over the top.
Shro the Younger stammered for a moment, for all the world looking as if someone had just told him that the sun would not rise in the morning.
"But you've lived for centuries..." Gree blurted out, her frown replaced by a look of confusion.
"Immortals cannot be killed or are reborn after their death, like the Blossom of Death or the Iron Tyrant. I am not immortal, since I can be killed," Fraker told them, shrugging his shoulders like a pair of boulders shifting, and shoving an entire potato into his mouth. At the mention of the Blossom of Death, leader of the Stygian Wave, many of the assembled pseudo-nobility flinched back and more than a few made hand gestures to ward off evil.
"But you were slain at the fall of the City of Lanterns, entombed in the Shrine of Steel Clad Martyrs, and were reborn to walk the face of Shtar again within a few decades," Shro the Elder said, his querulous and reedy voice full of confusion. The eldest member of the Circle of Equals squinted his watery and cataract covered eyes at Fraker, one hand tugging on his long gray beard, the torchlight gleaming off his waxed scalp. "How else could you still walk the land again unless you are immortal?"
Lomdus watched as the rest of the council nodded in agreement, Shro the Younger's face lighting up as if his father had just made a critical point that would give the town an edge over traveling traders.
Fraker swallowed the potato and took a long pull off of a decanter of water before answering. "I fought my way out of the Halls of the Dead, that's how." He shook his head. "Honestly, you'd think people would remember something like that." He stared mournfully at the empty plate that had held baked potatoes a few moments before, then shrugged again.
"So you want me to track down whoever is killing your herds, the travelers, and who slaughtered your town guard, right?" Everyone around the table nodded in agreement. "The problem, as you have ineptly tried to warn me, is that the Stygian Wave crushed an elven kingdom inside the forest, and you don't know what is detritus from that battle lashing out at anyone too close, and what is actually mortal bandits you suspect are attacking your people." More nods, mingled with looks of shock at Fraker's accusation. "And what do you plan on offering me?"
Shro the Younger smiled, motioning at Lomdus, who cleared his throat to get Fraker's attention and then presented the payment the Circle of Equals had decided to open the bargaining with.
"The Circle of Equals of the Trade Town of Gretlen offer four comely virgins, a chest full of silver and the thanks of the Council should you deliver us from this evil," Lomdus said, smiling at Fraker. He'd often been told his smile was sincere and open, inviting people to trust him. He expected Fraker to consider the deal, accept it or make a counter to it.
He did not expect Fraker to begin laughing.
"Virgins? What do I want with lousy virgins?" the hero laughed, then pointed at a wide hipped serving maid who had a 'reputation' among the other servants of the house, the servants of other houses, people of the trade town, and trade caravans that sometimes arrived. Men had heard of the serving maid who had not heard of the town she lived in. "I want women like her, whose legs could wrap around a rutting bull moose and whose mouth could suck the meat off of a turkey leg, not some pinched shut sacrificial lamb whose mouth barely opens far enough to mumble incoherently." The serving maid blushed and looked at Fraker coyly. What the bath maidens had seen had already flew through the servant's gossip network like a wildfire through a dried wheat field.
"I want strapping burly men like him, who looks to have the stamina and drive of an ox in heat," Fraker continued, pointing at the serving man who was holding out his arms so that a maid could stack dishes for him to return to the kitchen. The serving man looked startled, then smiled at Fraker's praise. Fraker snorted and shook his head. "No, virgins have no value, or I would have remained in the Meadows of Eternal Virgins and Endless Ambrosia. Do not insult me again."
Lomdus refrained from smiling in victory at his fellow council members. Lomdus had told them that Fraker would not be interested in virgins in the slightest, but still they chose to go with legends that stated that the purity of virgins was a valuable commodity. His fellow council members were gabbling in shock, and Lomdus saw fear break through many of their carefully cultured dispassionate attitudes at Fraker's announcement that they had offended him. Lomdus could sense confusion rolling off of many of his fellow council members at Fraker's inclusion of the serving man, and Shro the Younger shared a shocked and confused glance with Gree the Crone, both of them looking as if Fraker had just announced that he would prefer to be coated in honey and rolled in a fire ant mound.
"If that offer is unacceptable to you, then perhaps you would be interested in another offer," Lomdus said, still smiling as Fraker picked up a turkey leg, rolled the end in a gravy boat and bit a hunk out of it. When Fraker made the motion to continue and that he was interested, Lomdus smiled at his fellow council members with more than a trace of victory.
"The Trade Town of Gretlen offers you use of any of the brothels you desire for a fortnight, two companions to do with as you wish for that duration, and a chest of silver." Lomdus felt a flush of success as Fraker set down the turkey leg and wiped his hands on the linen tablecloth after looking about for a moment. Lomdus knew that the powerful hero was looking for a dog to wipe his hands on, having studied the ancient society that had spawned Fraker the Axe. Lomdus had considered bringing in one of his hunting dogs, but knew that it would offend the other Council members badly enough that it would risk his standing on the Council.
"Sounds good ... Lomdus, was it?" The councilman nodded, and Fraker continued, "However, brothels don't interest me as much as your offer of companions. What say you to eight burly men, four stragurt women, the weight of two elven maidens in silver and thirty casks of whiskey?"
Several of the council members choked on Fraker's choice of words, for stragurt meant that the woman had lain with scores of men yet was not a licensed consort or prostitute. The word was considered a vile insult in polite society, and hearing it shocked most of the council members to the core. However, Lomdus knew that the word held none of the connotations of insult to Fraker, who had come from a harsh, brutal land where environment dictated that a woman never married and took who she wanted, when she wanted, and bore children from as many different fathers as possible. In the giant's native tongue stragurt was the same word for mature and fertile woman and Lomdus knew that the word had been co-opted as an insult by other societies from Fraker's native tongue, and even though the society that spawned the world had been gone for centuries, the word, like Fraker, remained.
"Two stragurt and four burly men for a fortnight, the use of my personal servants and my kitchens and spirits cellar while you cavort with your companions, the weight of one maiden in silver, and ten cases of whiskey with cart and donkey to haul them," Lomdus countered. Fraker smiled and slammed an open hand on the top of the table hard enough to send the delicate crystal goblets that the servants had carefully stacked sliding to the tabletop in a glittering avalanche that shattered as they struck, sending shards of crystal into the food and drink.
"Done, by the Gods, providing you let me choose my companions from a group of at least ten times the number I get to keep for a fortnight," Fraker agreed in his booming voice, grabbing a knife off the table and slashing his palm before holding his hand and the knife out to Lomdus.
Lomdus, who had spent his youth in the wild and wooly trade business, took the knife and split his own palm, slapping the bloody hand against Fraker's and shaking the other man's hand as he smiled, while the other council members flinched from such barbarism.