F4 The Guildsman

(Author's note: This story is an entry into FAWC (Friendly Anonymous Writing Challenge), a collaborative competition among Lit authors. FAWC is not an official contest sponsored by Literotica, and there are no prizes given to the winner. This FAWC was based around the theme of music, with four songs given to choose from. The song that inspired this story was "Midnight Train to Georgia" by Gladys Knight and the Pips.)

* * * *

"You have played a dangerous game and lost." The corpulent King of the North looked down on the youngest and most beautiful of his five wives with a sneer. The daughter of one of his greatest rivals, the Princess Kyelle had been gifted to him as a means to show loyalty to his crown. "It is disappointing that your father would risk your pretty neck in such a way. Is he so desperate to be king himself that he would gamble with his own child's life?"

The young woman looked up at him with her tear streaked face, "Mercy My Lord, please I beg you." She looked furtively at his right hand where the great sword, lay idle in its sheath. She knew to plead her own innocence would incriminate her more in his eyes than her acceptance of his will. In truth, she had done nothing but try and befriend the other wives by doing their bidding. It was not one of her own birds she had set to flight with a secret message, but it was hard to tell which belonged to whom. All she could do was beg for mercy, not contradict the king, and hope that there was enough doubt on her side to give the reprieve she so desired.

"Mercy you shall have, little Kyelle," the king sat back in his chair. His spies had informed him that she was not to blame but that one of his other wives had set her on the path to her own destruction. He was not vain enough to believe this was done out of jealousy, moreover since the fall of the final southern realm a year ago the threat of civil war loomed even larger on the eastern border.

This charade with Kyelle, however, needed to be played out to catch the witch who placed her in such a position, in the act of treason. Nothing short of that would warrant her uncontested execution and with so many small annexed countries looking for a reason to revolt and sever ties with the throne he must be careful about whom he gave reason to do just that. He had his eyes firmly set on Lost Amberlei now to secure the pathway to the great eastern continent.

"Confine her to her quarters," he barked at the men who had brought her in, "And inform the queen that I will see her at my own leisure today." He waited until the young princess had left the room before turning to his page, "Inform my son that I wish to see him in council chambers." With that, he got up and left the room followed by his closest advisors.

* * * *

Connor pushed the giggling girl against the hard brick wall of the small room he had taken for the week. Burying his face in her neck, he let a guttural growl roll from his throat as he bit into the place where her shoulder met her neck. His large hands went up to tear at the threadbare cotton of the blouse that was visible above the tight corset and mauled at her breasts. The girl he pinned against the wall was no stranger to love making he knew, but even he was surprised as she hitched up her skirts and raised a leg over his hip grinding her cunt against his groin.

Pulling on the frayed rope that held his pants in place, he let them fall down and, without bothering with preliminaries, he entered her. The girl was a most enthusiastic partner, and he jammed his hand over her mouth to stifle her squeal of pleasure as he fucked her hard. Losing himself in the moment, he lowered his head and bit her again making her cry out in both pleasure and pain.

A soft knock at the door had given small warning to the lovers before the pounding began almost matching time with his pounding heart as Connor came into the buxom young wench who cried out one last time before he pushed her away and pulled up his pants. Searching around eagerly Connor dove out of the window as the door splintered open, and the men behind it charged him.

An hour later he stood in the shadow of a doorway as the night patrol passed by the corner he had been about to turn. He had managed to conceal himself within the rundown bars and brothels near the wharfs for several days gathering information. His mistake had been getting to close to the inn keeper's daughter, in his own defence; she was an adventurous young woman who was no stranger to some of the finer arts of love making. He might have gotten away with the tryst if she hadn't been so enthusiastic. Once again he adjusted the pants he had barely had time to pull up before he was set upon.

He shivered wishing he had time to grab his cloak as he had dived out of the window and wondered if it was too late to return for it. Connor leaned against the doorway considering his options. He needed to get to the western wharves. Few of the people dwelt near the edges of the stone city for fear of the forest and what dwelt within it. Surrounded by stone walls with heavy gates the only way in and out was via the wharves.

He stepped lightly out into the side street again making his way towards the shore front. Without the anonymity of his cloak, he felt exposed, as if any who looked at him could see through his shirt to the brand of his homeland. The wharves loomed before him; ships of the north and west lined the dock, he cursed that no independent captain seemed to have made this their port. Given recent events he could not blame them but still he did not relish the idea of a long trek through the forest as hunted prey.

Keeping to the shadows until he saw a lone sailor staggering along the alleyway, he stepped out and stood in his path. Having the advantage of height and width, he planted his feet then let the drunken sailor run into him before grabbing him in a friendly steadying motion until he righted himself and looked up at Connor through narrowed glassy eyes.

"Ho, there neighbour, you must have just arrived on that leaky tub to still have your sea legs on," Connor said with good humour. "Let me help you back to your ship."

"That'd be right neighbourly of ya, but I think I would like just one more tipple of that spiced wine muck, it improves on the tongue over time ya see and I'm almost t' tha point of liking it." The drunken sailor chuckled and lurched forward with Connor at his side.

"You don't seem like a typical sailor, neighbour," Connor realized that, like himself, the man was not all that he seemed.

"And you my friend, are no Northman," The would-be sailor looked up at him shrewdly through bleary eyes. "Come have that tipple of muck with me and maybe we can find some common ground. I think I have a prize that would be worth the risk to you."

"What could you possibly offer me aside of your cloak?" Connor asked with menace in his tone despite being startled by the sailor's words.

"Georgia," the man said shrugging off the northern cloak he wore to reveal the jacket of an independent man. "Here take it," he held the cloak out to Connor. "That was your original plan, was it not?"

* * * *

Walking the deck with the young Prince Regent, Kyelle raised her face to the sun. She had missed the warmer climate of her homeland and the smell of the sea in the air. Unlike the Regents mother who lay below decks bemoaned the feeling that she might die and cursing the king for forcing her to accompany her son on this voyage, Kyelle enjoyed every moment of her pseudo freedom from the rigors of court life.

She looked forward to visiting the port towns on the island trading post between east and west. The whole point of her accompanying the young prince on this mission was to ensure that their ship would be welcome in both the Western and the Eastern port towns. While no love was lost between the two realms, as the great King annexed each small realm in his own country, the watching eyes of the eastern continent had noted the dangers of a conquering King and the fleet he had begun to amass.

Kyelle's family had a history interwoven with that of the people of the east. Being a coastal realm they had been amongst the first explorers to venture past the island of Last Amberlei to the east bringing back with them treasures including a young woman of the royal house who would go on to rule with her new husband. This woman was Kyelle's grandmother, who now resided in the eastern port town allowing commerce between the two nations to continue on reasonably friendly terms.

As the full might of the King's war machine had descended upon their own realm, all of the women of the royal family had attempted to flee the final battle by ship but once stopped in the bay by the king's fleet, only her grandmother who had hidden as a scullery maid had remained on board the independent ship as the rest of the women were arrested and held hostage.

Her fate was not to return home, and she accepted it as part of being the Lord's daughter and resigned to being gifted to the king by force, made the best of living in the cold northern land. When told she would be banished for a time to Lost Amberlei she had secretly been overjoyed at the idea of sailing again, she had missed being close to the sea.

"What are the names of the port towns again?" She quizzed Prince Nikolai.

"Can't we just have a pleasant walk," he sighed. "I know you didn't deserve this temporary exile, so can we just try and enjoy it?"

"I am enjoying it Prince Nikolai" she laughed and went to lean over the rail looking out over the vast expanse of water. "I had not realised how much I missed the sea." She looked at him as he came to the rail beside her, "Still, we are here for a reason, and you cannot insult any of these people; the ports are too important and while they have allegiances to your father they are independent states and you must act accordingly, and show them deference and at the very least remember their names."

"Isn't that why you and mother are here? To make sure I don't embarrass father?" He said petulantly making Kyelle smile.

"Of course we will help you, but it is your voice they will look to not ours, and especially not mine. They will see me as nothing more than a courtesan. The fifth wife has no power but that of my family's elevation in rank amongst the nobles of the court now that they have shown their loyalty to the crown. You must remember; your father is not King of this realm, they will not bow and scrape before you. Now how will you address their Lord?"

"It seems odd that a woman close to my own age should be mothering me so, quizzing me on my knowledge of other realms, can we not just be..." he moved closer his arm brushing against hers, "Friendlier? Your being a courtesan, and all," his voice has deepened to a husky whisper.

"I may be viewed that way by some," Kyelle stepped away, "but the fact remains that you need to remember I am the wife of your father, the King, not a plaything for his son." She turned to walk away, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her back to face him.

"Look around you. These are my men on my ship. You would do well to be friendly at this point," He sneered, and she saw not for the first time his father's menacing ambition in his eyes. Fear welled up in her, and her eyes darted for a means of escape. The ship suddenly rolled and banked sharply causing the prince regent and several of his men to lose their footing. Kyelle looked up at the old captain of their ship who had been watching her and nodded imperceptibly, then she took the opportunity to disappear below decks to the relative safety of the Queen's cabin.

* * * *

Connor recovered quickly from his surprise; he had not expected his contact to be dressed as a northern sailor but then again he had not known what to expect from the small message he had received tied to the leg of an owl, "Meet. Lost Amberlei. Before full moon." The owls were used by only one clandestine network and while he was now seen as an independent adventurer, he had always been tied to the guild. He had joined the ranks of the now deposed southern Lord and had been there for the last big battle and the ultimate capitulation before making his way back to Lost Amberlei.

Brave to the point of stupidity and showing intelligence and maturity beyond his years he had rapidly grown through the ranks of his homelands special-forces, and been the youngest inductee to the guild. Even with his great skill, somehow though this wizened old sailor had fooled him, and he looked upon the man with new eyes as he pulled the dark cape over his shoulders.

Placing a hand in a show of camaraderie over the man's shoulders he spoke with a slight slur to his voice, "I knew a girl by that name once, a bawdy wench she was too, could dance with the grace of a hippopotamus wading in mud!"

"Ah, I know just the wench, she in a port out of... no, no, no, let me get it," the old man laughed as they staggered forward towards the door of an overcrowded tavern. With drinks in hand and ribald laughter they carried on a conversation about the plump dancing wenches of some unknown tavern in some unknown town, in the north. All the while their hands and fingers moved as if animating their stories, but they spoke instead in the secret language of the guild, the man opposite Connor was obviously a master and as he realised the depth of his companions instructions he believed this may be his chance for immortality.

If this daring plan failed, his life would be forfeit, and he realised at that moment that to the guild he was expendable but should the plan succeed, the infamy of his deeds would be told in history books. Wasn't this why he had enlisted so many years ago, for fame and fortune, rather than the drudgery of working on the farm with his father and brothers? He had only days to act, and he was not sure if it would be enough time for his own plan to work.

* * * *

Kyelle had stayed with the ailing Queen for the rest of the voyage. The young Prince Regent's intentions having been made abundantly clear and the fact that his men had seemed to all but ignore the fact that he had grabbed her so roughly, even if they hadn't heard the conversation preceding it, made her very wary about finding herself alone in his company again. She longed to be up on the deck, and she wished she could have thanked the captain for his fortuitous intervention if it was indeed an effort to assist her.

Perhaps she was being too vain. Perhaps it was just coincidence that the ship had rolled at just the right time, perhaps she should be thanking the Gods. She wasn't truly sure which God she believed in anymore, so she thanked them all, just in case.

The Prince had become surly about her absence above deck, but the histrionics of the Queen as she wallowed in self-pity about the roll and pitch of the sea saved Kyelle from having to leave her side. Moreover, she demanded the young woman attend her rather than her own servants.

"He is his father's son," the Queen murmured on a calm day when she had managed to sustain a little broth and bread in her ever queasy stomach, "You do well to resist him." She had laughed when Kyelle had gasped in shock, "You and I have never been what one would call friends, so what else could explain such devotion as to attend my sick bed day after cursed day on this barge." She sat up straighter in her bed and surveyed the girl.

"In truth, I have felt much better the last two days but I do not wish to see that vast expanse of water, it is frightening to know there is no land in sight," she smiled and patted the bed. "It seems for good or ill, you and I have been shipped off to the relative safety from the storm that brews in the capital. Skirmishes were brewing in the west and south at the last I heard, before we left. I guess it is too much to hope you really were spying or involved in court politics enough to entertain me with idle gossip," she sighed, "So tell me which of the witches we call sister wives put you up to sending the bird with the coded message." She laughed again at the expression of shock on Kyelle's face.

Over the following days, the two women bonded in a way neither had quite expected, sharing their experiences with the King and the court. The Queen had aspirations for her son, and they did not include being exiled because the young Prince defiled the King's pretty young trophy wife. The King was a very territorial man, sharing little even with those he professed to love. Paranoid and ruthless only a handful of trusted advisors knew him well, and they walked a precarious path to great wealth with the conquering King of the north.

The Queen took to asking her son to read to her in the early afternoon and instructed Kyelle to take fresh air up on deck during that time. Kyelle had worried in the beginning that there may be some plot afoot, but the Prince had begun to treat her more courteously from that first day of reading to his mother and she relaxed enough to enjoy her time in the fresh sea air. The captain seemed to watch her from a distance but never spoke to her directly. He nodded in deference if she caught his eye and smiled at him.

She wondered at the man and considered if it were only in her imagination that he had heroically saved her from the Prince. She felt there was something oddly familiar about him but could not quite place it. He looked as most sailors did; his weather beaten skin was brown and creased with deep lines; his sky blue eyes seemed to see everything all at once and, without even turning his head, he could yell at a man behind him who was slacking in his duties. His mouth though always seemed to quirk as if some mischievous secret laughter was held just a breath from escaping.

She approached him after discussing the man with the Queen and said tentatively, "The first Queen wishes me to convey her gratitude that you have found calmer waters of late to sail us through."

"Aye, the Gods seem to have heard her prayers," he said in his lilting brogue.

"A southerner!" Kyelle said, astonished that a southern man would be captain of the King's finest vessel.

"Aye Majesty," he nodded not furthering the conversation.

"How long do you think until we reach Lost Amberlei?" She was keen to hear him talk the accent almost feeling foreign to her even after only year in the King's palace.

"Hmm," he looked up and scratched at his beard, "we should see L.A. day after next if we don't find any troubled waters."

"That's wonderful news, thank you, Captain," she smiled broadly, "The Queen will be most happy. Thank you, again, Captain."

* * * *

Connor walked softly picking his path with care. He knew he was no more welcome in this forest than any other of his kind, but he had spent time here once shortly after arriving on the island and he had survived. If the plan of the guild was to succeed then he would need the help of the islands mysterious natives.

Appearing on the beach some decades before, explorers of the north had stopped on the small island between the two larger continents in an attempt to find a fresh water supply that would aid them in their journey. They had found a peace loving people who helped and guided them as well as traded some of the lush, warm pelts of the forest animals for tools and trinkets.

Keen to explore the island, they had sailed around it and traversed it mapping it carefully as they stayed relatively close to the beaches and only ventured into the dense forests with guides. The initial contact between the peoples had been harmonious and beneficial to both. In time though and with the explorers knowledge of other lands and cultures, merchants began to travel the sea routes set out for them by early explorers, stopping at the sheltered beach near a freshwater spring.

All the while the guardians of the forest and its peoples had watched from a distance, wary of the newcomers and sensing the threat these men brought with them. In practised silence, they had shadowed the men, noting the scents, looks and sounds of the guttural noises they made.