Foreword: All subjected characters are at least 18. Any resemblance of fictional characters to real-life persons are purely coincidental and extremely regrettable.
Please do not confuse fantasy (or Literotica entries) with reality.
I sincerely apologize for any and all (of the many) factual inconsistencies that feature in my stories
Also my first time writing and publishing here. Work will be terrible. Constructive criticism and feedback greatly appreciated.
"By the Queen's Grace, I'm here."
It did not matter that he had muttered Her Majesty's name in vain. Whatever scruples he had of what his eyes beheld were dispelled more and more with every blink and every step, as he realized he had pushed through to salvation.
He completely fudged over every possible aspect of the journey. Miscalculating how long it would take (no one told him the city was so
immense
: it put even the Lord Astar's castle to right shame. Not to mention the arduous trek from the town itself!), forgetting Eyepatch's directions (was James
really
going to ask that knife-wielding knave for his own eyes to be carved out?), or making the plethora of panicked turns along the streets that forced him to backtrack and lose more time and precious energy - all in all, it was an utter miracle that he had barely kept his feet and his wits - let alone his life.
But he had made it.
Lights glimmered in the distance, illuminating the downtrodden edifices that modestly lined the street. it seemed as though the alley led right up to a better, more luxurious district - before it was cut off and unceremoniously declared a dead end by an uncompromising wall. This was the far end of the "worst of the worst," as Eyepatch had regaled him. The place that shielded the guilds from the slums, where no light shone except from the lamps behind the walls, and the place where James was supposed to go to, the part of the city furthest from his town and his allegations.
Thin, dim, ethereal - but unmistakable - was dim light, casting dancing shadows upon the street. These, and Eyepatch's promise that what James needed lay at the now uncryptic "divide," were the two things keeping him company under the lonely, moonless light.
Well, there were three things.
James let out a soft sigh and gently pushed his charge forward. "We're almost here," he murmured in half-apology, half-warning. "Just a little more"
The figure grudgingly stepped forward. Almost as tall as James (who was of an average height himself), the figure was clothed in a sheer fabric, so thin and frail as to be paper. James had not been able to procure any better, and winced whenever he could feel the bare warmth on his fingertips. He had everything to thank that the nights had not proven colder. Around the figure's dainty wrists was makeshift twine, and beneath the veil on the figure's face was a gag to muffle any sounds they would have thought to make.
Framed by the poor light at the very end of the alleyway was a trodden building whose shattered frame seemed it would cave in on itself at any given moment.
"Right there, at the divide. Can't miss it. Clear as day - clearer at night, too. Hope your eyes are a great deal keener than your ears... I wouldn't mind two eyes to meself, again."
James shivered at the memory of that gnarly voice.
The building largely resembled a small inn, with the bottom floor shockingly intact considering the otherwise decrepit nature of both the surroundings and the crumbling top. On a better day, James might have had some final misgivings about both the verity of Eyepatch's words and the stature of the location.
It was not that better day.
He went inside.
The thoughts and observations themselves did eventually strike him after he entered - but as was signature in his recent impulsive experiences, it was too late to turn back. As he finally managed to recollect himself and regain his bearings, a closer inspection satisfied his expectations of the location - or rather, lack thereof.
Despite its external appearance, the greeting room was astoundingly well-furnished - in fact, it was so ornately decorated, the inside might as well have been the greeting chamber for a noble. The richly-woven linens and pillows draped over the furniture were not only flamboyantly covered with intricate design, but somehow complemented each other article within the room so effortlessly, even muted by such dim lighting. Even the walls and floors themselves were handsomely treated, and the entire aesthetic was something that could be described as no less than
pampered,
if not utterly regal and grand in its splendor.
It occurred to James just how much in life he missed out on, even as a son of tavern keepers. Even as well-fed and privileged as he had been, this amount of wealth and decor was an experience that would be granted once and forever missed by one of his status, nevermore to be lived, even for a fleeting moment.
And there would only be more miss if his life was threaded short by the end of a noose.
In this light as well, the figure was thrown into relief. The thin clothing that the figure - a young lady - wore did little to disguise her lovely breasts and curves, even as the jostle of the journey did little to hamper the glow of her youth. Her pale skin glowed like the moon, and her burlap veil betrayed strands of her silky black hair. Clearly, James had done a poor job of tying her hair up.
Near the end of the room was another door. It was the light that crept from beneath it that provided the thin glow by which James was able to see.
Curiosity overcame whatever prudence James possessed. Almost entranced, he slowly approached the door, grabbing the woman by the shoulders, dimly becoming aware of some noises emanating behind the door. Was this the commotion of the party that would save him? He placed a hand on the polished knob, turned it, and leaned gently.
The door creaked, causing James to almost leap away in trepidation. Yet no one came to open it for James - or even confront him for his attempt to trespass.
"You may enter," called out a somewhat sharp, yet sonorous man from behind.
