Moonfall

One of the duke's grooms appeared to take my horse as I pulled Roan to a stop. "Welcome, Sir Archer," the slight, brown-haired boy said as he took Roan by the halter and held him steady while I dismounted.

I couldn't recall the lad's name, but knew he'd cared for Roan before. "Thank you, my young squire," I replied with a friendly smile to cover my lapse in memory, causing the boy to grin. Though his help and good care of Roan was expected by his master, His Grace the Duke of Willow, I handed him a penny anyway. "Take good care of Roan for me."

The boy's grin bloomed into a full smile as he took the silver, thumbnail sized coin. "Thank you, Sir Archer! I will! Shall I call for someone to announce you?"

I ruffled the boy's hair. We were in a time of peace and the castle's fortifications were lightly manned. The duke would order the lowering of the portcullis tonight, but as it was still early afternoon, and I was known to be a welcomed guest of the duke, I'd ridden through the entrance without challenge to stop at the stables just inside the castle's gate.

"I know my way, and His Grace is expecting me. If you'll have someone place my satchel in my chambers?" I traveled light, with only a few changes of clothes secured to the back of my saddle. I needed little when I was visiting the duke.

"Of course, Sir Archer," the groom replied before he turned and led Roan away.

I looked over the castle's bailey, debating whether to announce myself at the keep or the grand hall. I decided on the grand hall at the far side of the ward, where it shared a wall with the chapel, as that was where the duke normally spent his time during the day. I quickly walked across the expansive courtyard, past the well and a small garden, keep, kitchen, and the servant's quarters, scattering chickens as I went.

The castle clearly spoke of the difference in position between me and His Grace. Though sturdily built and warm in winter, I lived in a single room stone cottage in a deep wood, while this magnificent castle was only one of the duke's residences.

Built of buff colored stone, the keep, walls, and chapel were almost five hundred years old, built during the time of the Normans and William the Bastard, but the original structures had been repaired, renovated, and expanded by the duke for his summer playground. This castle was one of His Grace's smaller holdings, though it was by no means cramped. Here he hunted and hosted contests and events on the castle's extensive grounds by day, and held other, more intimate, contests and events during the evening.

Fulk of Willow held a rich and important dukedom that included Peterborough and Norwich, two significant towns of commerce and trade. I'd never been invited to his primary residence in Cambridge, and probably never would, but I enjoyed his hospitality in this vacation castle two or three times a year, from late spring to early fall. With the nip of approaching winter in the air, this was probably my last visit of the season.

I slowed as I approached the large, heavy wooden door that granted entry to great hall. The entrance was agape, a lone man standing beside the opening watching my approach. The man was impeccably dressed and stood with regal bearing, his snow-white hair adding weight to his clear, if unspoken, authority.

"Welcome back, Master Archer. His Grace is expecting you."

"Thank you, Geoffrey."

Geoffrey, the duke's steward, led me into the hall, his exquisitely crafted boots ringing on the carefully laid stone floor. Supported by massive arched wood beams, strengthened with intricate interlaced bracing and resting on the thick stone pillars that extended from the room's walls, the grand hall's soaring ceiling was designed to demonstrate the duke's wealth and power. At the far end of the huge room was a massive fireplace to provide warmth and light. Displayed prominently above the crackling fire was the duke's family crest, an oversized red and yellow checked knight's shield. Winged griffins adorned the red sections in the upper right and lower left corners, and a single poppy decorated the yellow sections of the upper left and lower right. A relief of a knight's helmet rested atop the center of the shield with large plumes of elaborate, intricately carved feathers bordering the sides of the shield and helmet. Encircling the crest was fan of swords, their points directing the eye to the heraldry.

As the grand hall was new construction compared to the much older keep, the windows were larger and fitted with stained glass, currently brightly lit with the afternoon sun. Richly woven tapestries hung on the stone walls between the windows to warm the room in fact and appearance. Both windows and tapestries depicted the duke's ancestors engaging in various battles and heroic acts in testament to his family's long and noble linage, power, and service to the king. I'd been in this room many times, but it impressed me anew each time I entered, exactly as it was designed to do.

"Your Grace, may I present to you, Master Archer Moonfall," Geoffrey announced in his most formal voice when we stopped a respectful distance from the duke and duchess.

I dipped my head in proper respect. "Your Grace."

Fulk and Nesta rose and came to meet me. "So good to see you again, Moonfall" Fulk said.

"As you, Your Grace."

"Geoffrey, you're excused," Fulk said before he turned his attention back to me.

Fulk of Willow's great wealth was evident, not only in his castle, but also in his dress. Though not my equal physically, he'd once been a robust man and an expert horseman, but it was clear the march of time was taking its toll. Even though age had softened his face and body, and added grey to his once dark hair, he still commanded respect by weight of his authority.

"When Geoffrey is gone, we can dispense with the formalities, yes? We are, after all, bonded by blood, in a manner of speaking," he muttered, his voice too soft for Geoffrey to hear as his steward strode away.

"As you wish, Your Grace." I turned my attention to the lovely creature that stood next to him and again dipped my head. "Also, very good to see you again, Your Grace. As always, you brighten any room with your beauty."

Where Fulk was softening with age, Nesta was beautiful in her early womanhood, with her graceful neck, pale skin, and doe like eyes. She carried herself with the regal reserve befitting her place... until we were in her bed. There, the reserve was replaced with fire as she rode my cock with enthusiasm, often crying out in bliss as her ample breasts sloshed and swayed with our motion.

Nesta smiled at me. "Still the flatterer, I see."

"I speak only the truth. If it flatters, so be it."

Nesta's smile spread slightly as she glanced to make sure Geoffrey wouldn't hear. "I've missed you so very much."

"Me... or...?" I teased.

She dipped her head slightly as her smile widened a bit more. "Perhaps a bit of both."

"We have a special guest for you to meet tonight," Fulk said.

"Any person that Your Grace believes I should meet is a someone who's acquaintance I look forward making."

"Fulk," he replied.

"And Nesta," she added.

So long as I showed the proper respect, I'd been granted the extremely rare gift of using Fulk and Nesta's names instead of their titles when we were alone, an honor Nesta bestowed on me one evening while riding my cock. "Thank you, Your Grace," I replied with a small smile.

"I've asked the kitchen to prepare a feast for us, and I'll introduce you at dinner." Fulk smiled slyly. "Also, Nesta has a special surprise for you."

"Now I'm flattered," I said as I smiled at her.

"It's something I've been planning almost since I was last able to... enjoy your company."

"Now I'm especially eager."

"No more so than I am to give it to you," she purred.

Duchess of Willow was a randy wench, and her color was already rising. She was no match for me, though I enjoyed fucking her almost as much as I enjoyed how the coin her husband gave me fattened my purse.

"As am I," Fulk added. "First, I'm sure you'll want to rest from your journey. Go. Rest. Dinner will be ready promptly at sunset."

"Thank you. I believe I will."

Fulk pulled me into a backslapping hug with a friendly growl. "It's so good to see you again, my friend. I'm looking forward to enjoying many days of your company."

As he released me, I held Nesta's gaze until she smiled, perhaps thinking of the pleasure I'd bring her. "And evenings," I murmured.

The duke and duchess had... particular... tastes in entertainment. During the day the duke and duchess enjoyed hunting, Nesta being an accomplished Falconer, and Fulk's love of, and prowess in, the Scottish game of golf was well known. During my visits I was often granted the honor of joining them on a hunt or playing golf with Fulk in the surrounding meadows.

They also enjoyed hosting elaborate sporting events on the cleared ground surrounding the castle's walls. I was no match for the men on horseback during jousting contest and didn't participate. I'd sometimes compete in archery, though my skill was severely lacking compared to most of the archers. I had no hope of winning unless I cheated by squeezing the archer's desire in the moment the arrow was loosed to break his concentration. As there was no benefit to cheating, I refrained and accepted my losses with good humor. My contest of choice was wrestling. Because of my size and strength, I regularly bested all who challenged me without resorting to deviousness, much to Nesta's delight.

While during the day, the duke and duchess enjoyed all the normal activities of people of their status, it was in the evening when their interests in entertainment became less common. They occasionally enjoyed a jester, mummer, or minstrel, but more frequently they relished watching others doing what the duke could not. When I visited, I might stay as much as a month, enjoying their hospitality as I entertained Fulk and his wife. During the day I was easily defeated in most contests and games, but in the evening I had no equal.

Nesta was considerably younger than Fulk and she enjoyed watching me labor in various erotic contests as much as her husband. As the games of the evening were much less elaborate than those during the day, several times a week they'd watch as I fucked the provided maiden, whore, or whores, until the women were gasping and begging for mercy. Sometimes they'd set me additional challenges, such as trying to completely fill a small cup with my seed, dictating the number of times I was to rapture during a game, or attempting to guess the distance my essence would travel when I climaxed. No matter the game, afterwards Nesta took me to her bed where I performed for her pleasure as Fulk watched silently from a nearby chair.

"Yes," she breathed. "Especially the evenings."

<><><>

"Your Grace, Master Archer Moonfall," Geoffrey intoned as we entered the large dining hall in the keep. Candles on the walls had been lit and were flicking in the slight, chilly breeze that always seemed to find its way into the keep. The large table covered in food was flanked by twin fireplaces, the crackling flames keeping the bite of approaching winter at bay.

"Archer! Come! Join us!" Fulk commanded, waving to the left side of the table.

I forced a smile to hide my annoyance that a usurper had been seated to the duke's right, the position I normally occupied when dining with the duke and duchess alone. At least the new man had the refinement to rise in acknowledgement.

The newcomer and I sat together. "Master Archer Moonfall, may I introduce Master Aznaro DeVaryard. Master DeVaryard, Master Moonfall."

"Very good to meet you, DeVaryard," I said, my tone and cadence formal as the servants busied themselves filling my glass and serving my plate.

"Aznaro, please."

I nodded. "Then you must call me Archer."

Aznaro was a giant of a man, my equal in every respect. The obvious differences between our appearances being where my hair was the color of straw and my eyes the sky, his eyes and hair were pitch dark, and his flesh had been well bronzed by the sun. Aznaro also had long hair, along with a beard and mustache, unlike my shorter hair and clean-shaven features, but that is where our differences ended. His features were noble and without blemish, and like me, he was taller than most, with a broad chest, powerful looking arms, and a flat stomach.

The table was covered with more food that the four us could possibly eat, and as we dined, I forced myself to be pleasant, not wanting to insult the duke and duchess by being rude to their guest. I sampled the various meat pies, pheasant, venison, and roasted pig, along with beans, carrots, bread, cheese, fruit, and of course, wine.

Though he spoke passible English, it took only a few sentences before it was clear that Aznaro was a Spaniard.

"How did you come to be a guest of His Grace?" I asked Aznaro as I picked over the remains of my meal.

"I sent for him," Nesta replied. "My sister, Liecia, is betrothed to Prince Sebastian of Aragon. She wrote to me of a man with... insatiable appetites." She smiled first Aznaro and then at me. "She also said he offered a cure for the weakening of virility. I thought you two should meet."

"Many make the claim," I said, keeping my voice friendly, "but few can deliver on their promise."

I'd come to Fulk of Willow's notice when I'd heard word he was offering a substantial prize to anyone that could cure him of his affliction. As his castle was only a day and a half ride from my home outside Burgthur, and my purse was light, I decided to claim his prize. I was one of many who'd arrived with the promise to restore his virility, but I wasn't worried someone would claim the prize before me.

Upon my arrival, Duchess Willow had taken an instant interest in me and had brought me to the front of line. I'd boldly claimed I'd wait until all others failed and then I'd cure His Grace of his affliction. I'd then begged his leave, and once granted, exited the grand hall into the bailey.

Moments later, Nesta had joined me. Hours later, as Fulk watched, I'd fucked his wife as she'd ever never fucked before, her wails and cries of pleasure echoing through the keep during the night as I took her time and again, filling her with my essence until her soft, down stuffed bed was stained and damp from our sex.

The next morning the duke had dismissed all others waiting to promote their cure before promising me great wealth if I'd make him as virile as I was. I told him he could achieve a portion of my virility if he drank my special brew, though the effects would last only for a few hours, and the elixir had to be consumed immediately upon preparation. My tea was nothing more than agrimony boiled until the water was dirty brown, then mixed with a bit of goat's milk and beer. It was a bitter, foul tasting, unpleasant smelling concoction, but the duke believed it put fire in his cock. I protected the contents and methods of my elixir jealously, telling him only that a drop of my blood was a key ingredient.

What the duke didn't know, what no one knew, was he could drink beer, wine, or nothing at all, and achieved the same results. My elixir was a sham. After the duke drank my potion, I waited a short time and then reached out with my magic and put iron his cock. My elixir didn't give him a stone-hard erection, I did.

I was a lust warlock. I had the ability to use lust and desire to influence people, a power given to me by Clobed, and his master, the great demon, Tralmilin. In my more than one hundred years of life, I'd collected a vast lake of power, power taken from the countless women, and more than a few men, I'd fucked.

"Ah, but that's part of the reason we sent for Master Aznaro, to verify that all Liecia said was true. I can speak for myself that his cure works as well as yours," Fulk said.

My eyes narrowed. "You've tried it?"

"Yes. A poultice that I apply to my cock." Fulk chuckled. "I must say, its far better than drinking that foul brew you give me."

My gaze flicked to Nesta. "And what of... the other?"

She smiled. "He is your equal... in every way," she purred.

I began to smolder. "I see. So... you no longer require my services?" I asked, forcing my tone to be affable.

Fulk and Nesta's smiled broadened. "Quite the contrary. Aznaro is the very reason we sent for you. Discovering that Aznaro is all that Liecia claimed is what prodded my love into sending for you, and having you here is an essential part of our surprise." As Fulk and Nesta undermined me in front of their new guest, Aznaro had sat quietly, smiling at my discomfort, but with Fulk's announcement his smirk slowly disappeared.

"I'm sorry Your Grace, but I don't understand," I said.

"Now that Aznaro has demonstrated he can possibly challenge you in the game you most excel at, Duchess Willow and I have agreed that we want to see which of you will triumph."

"I don't take your meaning, Your Grace," Aznaro said. "My understanding is you asked me to come to you so Your Grace could enjoy my... company and gifts. I didn't know of... another... or of any game," he said as his gaze flicked to me.

"Quite right," Fulk agreed. "We invited you to see if the claims of Princess Liecia were true. Over the past week you've proven everything she said of you, and now we wish to challenge you both to a contest, an event like no other before," he said as he divided his attention between Aznaro and me. I could see the excitement in Fulk's eyes and Nesta's color was high. "You've enjoyed our games in the past, Master Archer. Are you ready to compete in the greatest game of all?"

I wasn't at all pleased by what was happening, but I kept my tone civil. "What game, Your Grace?"

"Yes. I too am curious to what you refer," Aznaro added the moment I stopped speaking.

Fulk leaned back and stabbed another piece of venison. "It was Duchess Willow's idea, so I will allow her to explain," he said before popping the bit of meat into his mouth.

"If you both agree, I will send for all the whores in the duchy. When they arrive, you will then engage in a contest of virility, a contest where you will fuck the women, without rest or pause, until one of you can fuck no more." Her gaze flicked rapidly between Aznaro and me.

"And why should I agree to this?" my potential rival asked, his tone defiant.

I was shocked by his bluntness. I'd never speak to Duchess Willow in such a manner, and angering the duke or duchess wasn't to one's benefit.

"For the honor of taking me to my bed," Duchess Willow replied, her voice cool. "You've both ridden me until I was weak with exhaustion." She paused as a slow smile touched her lips. "It's my most fervent wish that, perhaps after a hard and prolonged gallop with a group of whores, I'll be able to ride one of you to exhaustion."

Aznaro and I glared at each other. I reached out and gently squeezed his desire with my magic, testing a supposition by gently enflaming his passion and watching his reaction. A normal man wouldn't have realized I'd grasped him, my touch so gentle he'd have only felt it as an urge to prove his virality to Duchess Willow, but Aznaro not only felt it, he also realized what it was. He grunted softly as his eyes widened, but then a moment later, my own need soared with the return touch of his magic, my cock instantly rising and binding uncomfortably in my trousers. Where my touch of Aznaro was like the caress of a lover, his return contact was like a punch to the stomach.

My eyes narrowed with the confirmation of what I'd begun to suspect. Aznaro was another lust warlock. I'd always suspected there were more who had the gift, but Clobed had steadfastly refused to confirm the existence of other witches or warlocks. With his true nature revealed, everything became clear... how he could cure the duke's impotence, his robust size and handsomeness, and Duchess Willow's claim he could fuck her as well as I could.