Hello, my Freaky Darlings,
Here’s a short story for your reading pleasure. Hope you enjoy it!
Protector of the Citadel
I am the hero of my people. I’m a skilled butcher of men and women alike. My mighty King sends me to places that are irksome and will not conform to his rule or the ideals of our society. I kill people whose heinous crime was not believing as we do or for not wanting to live under my King’s bootheel.
After a battle, my King hails me as the protector of the Citadel and sends nubile women to my bed to soothe my wounds and reward me for my heroic deeds. I drink wine and thrust into those lucky women. I drown the sounds of the screams of the vanquished in a warm bath scented with lavender and rose petals. I live a life of luxury until the next battle. I am my people’s champion. They love me for my ability to kill without mercy. They idolise me for my skill with a blade. I take pleasure in every moment of my existence, for every moment may be my last.
Today is a day like many others in our war with the neighbouring tribes. I stand on a battlefield strewn with the corpses of the fallen. I hear the screams of the wounded and dying. My armour still gleams in the sun even though it is wet with the blood of the warriors I have slain this day. Their champion was slaughtered at the start of the battle by my hand in single combat. His head will ornament my King’s altar on my return.
These worms did not accept the judgement of our Gods over theirs. The Gods had shown me favour, by giving me the strength to vanquish my enemy. They refused to lay down arms when I cut off their protector’s head. I will butcher them without mercy for their stubborn refusal of my King’s rule or our Gods’ supremacy. They will all pay the ultimate price for their desire for independence.
I roar at the heavens as I strike down yet another of these weaklings with my double bladed axe and dare anyone else to challenge me. A small figure strolls out of the battle throng. She is but a girl gripping a sword she can barely carry. She dares to point the blade at me. It has been bloodied so she must have taken it from one of the corpses of her own kind. She is brave but foolish. I am tempted to let her live so the King can have her in his bed as a prize, but only after I have had my fun with her. The King has no need to know that I have had her first.
The survivors of her clan cheer her on. The fools do not seem to doubt her. They hail her as their princess. I was right. She will make a worthy prize for my King, even if I do hand her over slightly used and wounded. I will not kill her, just hobble her. I will have to take pains not to damage her pretty face. It would be a crime to ruin such perfection with a scar. She smiles as she approaches. She looks up at me with wide-eyed innocence.
A ripple of excitement weaves its way through both sides. My men laugh. They know the enjoyment I will have with this royal slip of a girl. I will take my time with her on and off the field. I can’t help but lick my lips at the thoughts my mind conjures.
“I’m sorry I was late for the battle,” the girls says with a sweet smile. “My mother had me dealing with other affairs. My Squire had to take my place as champion. Clearly, he was not worthy of a challenge such as yours. My apologies if you feel slighted. That was not my intention.”
She is so sincere in her speech that I am momentarily confused by her words. Before I can comprehend the full meaning of her words, she moves like lightning, and slides between my legs, slicing my thighs with her blade. It takes a few moments for my mind to realise that I am bleeding. I haven’t seen my own blood since I was a young boy in training.
I cannot allow her to live after this display. She has humiliated me in front of my men and must die for her insolence. I turn to face her with a roar like a lion. She smiles up at me and is on me once more. She bounds up my legs and onto my shoulders like a playful kitten before she plunges her sword into my shoulder. As I fall to the ground, she pats my head and jumps down.
My blood joins that of the ones I slew earlier. A shocked gasp runs through my army as I sink to my knees in front of the girl.
“Please kill me,” I beg her. “I cannot live with this shame. I have disgraced my King and my people.”
As I look at her sweet face, which is now level with mine, I see my army run. They have seen me fall and think the battle lost. It is a defeat my King will not recover from. His enemies will know that without me he is vulnerable and will attack him from every side. All is lost. I weep for my city and my people. They will blame me. All honours will be ripped from my house and family. My Mother will curse the day I was born. I bow my head and wait for her to take my head. It will be painful as she will need several strikes to sever my head.
“I’m not going to kill you,” the girl says. “You are a gift for my Mother.”
I stare at her in confusion.
“You will give her more strong daughters,” she says as she raises my hand up to the heavens. Her surviving warrior women cheer. The fate I’d planned for the Princess is now to be mine, and this little girl who has beaten me is hailed as their hero and the protector of their Citadel. I hang my head in shame as I am led off in chains to be mounted by their Queen.
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Gratuitous Cat Pic
Well … That’s it for this week. Until next time …
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