Romule woke early and dressed himself in his trousers and a loose shirt. He looked over at his armour. It really was in desperate need of repair. He would need to find a blacksmith today.
His stomach growled angrily at him.
"Breakfast first" he said aloud.
He walked down the stairs into the inn. There were no lights on and it was quiet...eerily so.
"hello?" he called into the emptiness. "old man? Freya?"
Nothing.
He heard a commotion from outside. Slowly he opened the door into the street.
In the middle of the town square a crowd had gathered.
He wandered into the street, joining the crowd, making his way to the front. The mood oppressive. These people were scared and confused, many of the men wept and called for their wives, their daughters.
"Why?" called one man. "Why is this happening again."
As he reached the front of the crowd he saw why. Romule exhaled a long sigh.
"Oh shit." He mumbles as he looked to the floor of the town square.
The body of a prostitute he had seen yesterday lay naked on the ground, her head tightly wrapped in branches.
Romule stood in the square and faced the crowd.
"Good people," he called. "Please be calm"
His words were heard and the townsfolk began to quieten.
"Who are you?"
"Why are you here?"
"Did you do this?"
"Please people, I am Romule and i may be the only person that can help you."
"You dont even know what is happening."
"How can you help us?"
"Through the night some of you lost a wife or a daughter or maybe even a mistress."
The crowd feel quiet.
"Yes, Romule. You are exactly right." the crowd parted and there stood the inn keeper, his face red and his eyes puffy. Romules eyes darted around, looking for Freya. An uneasy feeling washed over him.
"Freya is gone," sobbed the old man. "Along with my wife and Freyas mother."
"Ah," Began Romule. He stopped, suddenly confused about the relationship between him and Freya. Nevermind, that can wait.
"Yes," came another voice. "My wife too."
"My lover is gone."
"I believe you are the victim of a cursed Oak. A human cursed to live as a tree. Somewhere the curse went wrong and they are able to breed. In a manner of speaking. The catch is they need a sacrificial seed bed. A fertile female, recently inseminated." Romule glanced at the old innkeeper. Freya being taken was probably his fault. "The small plants you see in front of the houses are the scouts, attracted by the scent of your mixed pheromones. Your women were taken to become...seed beds."
The crowd collectively gasped.
"How do we get them back? Do we get them back?"
"I will tend to my armour and weapons and leave soon. I have time to bring back your women."
The crowd muttered amongst themselves. Realising there was little choice they unanimously agreed.
Romule left the square and headed back towards the inn.
His room door opened all too easily. He hastily stepped inside.
"That was quite the speech," a female voice came from the dark corner of the room.
"And who the fuck might you be?" He snarled in response.
"Relax, I am Carla, the blacksmiths apprentice. I came to help. Looking at your armor, i would say you need my help." From the shadow stepped a short slender woman with curly hair down to her shoulder blades. She couldnt have been older than 20. From her left hand dangled Romules codpiece.
She looked at the worn out piece, then back at Romule, raising an enquiring eyebrow.
"Custom fit?" She asked in an almost sultry tone.
Romule tried to fight back the smug grin. Failed.
"What? Bigger than your used to?"
"Hmm!" Carla blushed slightly, "Regardless it is fucked. You will need a new one."
"Where might i find a real blacksmith?" He grumbled.
"Rude," a look of frustration crossed her pretty face. No make up or product, Romule noted, just a natural beauty. For a slightly awkward second he got lost in her big brown eyes.
"Anyway," she continued, "Lara is probably getting fucked by your monster tree thingy. I heard her getting screwed in the back of the shop last night. I don't who by though cuz her husbands out of town. Anyway i bet he filled her good."
