The village square was bustling with life and excitement. The knights and his lordship had returned from their hunting expedition with enough meat and grain to supply the small village for the winter. Duke Estrad was the reigning noble over the small farmland, his father's father before him had begun the tradition of the annual hunt. The village of Kryshtofoll was located deep in the valley, the land was made fertile from the nearby river. The rich soil provided them with fresh fruit and a bountiful harvest in the Sun season. However, the winter was a different story. The ground, frozen and hard gave them nothing once it was blanketed by snow. The trees stripped bare provided nothing but kindling for firewood to warm their homes, but offered nothing to fill their bellies. The hunt granted them a chance to leave the snug enclave of the valley and take the gruelling journey down to the flat lands where they could hunt larger animals.
The Duke chose the most strapping and capable men in the village to accompany him. The Duke himself was a tall well built man with thick defined muscles, his noble status did not stop him from performing physical tasks alongside his tenants in the village. He was by no means an ugly man, with a strong jaw and intense dark eyes but his serious disposition was apparent on his face.
The land around the valley was bordered by sharp unforgiving rocks, and steep cliffs that provided protection from invading forces but limited their access to the outside. Men had lost their lives on the trek down to the flat as well as on their ascent into the valley.
This year's hunt had been a successful journey with only two casualties. Upon their return the small group was greeted by the shouts and cries of the villagers who had long awaited their return. The hunt had come to an end. Now it was time to celebrate.
The Feast of Return was an equally traditional event that provided villagers a chance to sample a small portion of the meat brought back from the hunt. The rest would be salted, dried and distributed to the families in the village. Duke Estrad watched his villagers revelling, closing his eyes he savoured the joyous atmosphere provided by the happy villagers.
"GOOD SIR! WON'T YOU DRINK THIS BOTTLE WITH ME?" A voice boomed from the entrance of the tavern.
Duke Estrad eyed his second in command who was already slurring and shouting. The Duke was a man of moderation, drunkenness and debauchery were sins he did not indulge, yet his second was a different story. Sir Phillip was deep in his cups, having procured a bottle from an unknown location he was adamant that his lordship drink with him.
"I think you are doing well enough by yourself my friend." The Duke's measured tone contrasted the intoxicated jumbled words of the knight before him.
"Come nooow. We have taken down wild beasts, climbed the cliffs bare handed side by side and you would deny your knight the pleasure of a shared drink?" Sir Phillip crooned.
Truly, the knight was not as drunk as he appeared. He and the other members of the troop had hatched a sinister plot to force their Duke to enjoy himself for the first time. The Duke was a considerate man, solemn and reserved as well as remarkably dull. On their journey to the flat, the men had entertained each other telling tales of their debauched exploits by the glow of the campfire. Their Duke had remained silent, listening half heartedly and offering none of his own tales to amuse the men:
"I'm simply not that kind of man."
His words rang like the echo in a cave through Sir Phillips mind. The pompous Duke made his blood boil in his veins, the needs of men were not sinful. Plunging your cock into the wet slippery cunt of an eager whore was nothing to turn ones nose up at. Thus, Sir Phillip and the men had made a scheme to loosen the Duke up for the night.
"I've procured a lovely bottle for us to enjoy. Just one drink, not a drop more is all I ask." Sir Phillip flashed a toothy grin before pouring a full cup of the wine.
The wine was in a regular bottle of the table wine served at feasts in the village. However, this bottle had been mixed with an aged moon shine that one of the men had made secretly. The mixture was enough to inebriate even the heaviest of drinkers with its potency.
The Duke, not wanting to appear rude, finally relented. He lifted the cup and nearly balked at the heavy smell of alcohol that assaulted his senses. Sir Phillip poured himself a cup and lifted the cup to his lips.
"Cheers good Sir!" The Duke said before swallowing the liquor mixture.
Sir Phillip watched the Duke over the rim of his cup, pretending to take a sip for himself. Slyly he tossed the drink over his shoulder emptying the contents of the cup onto the floor.
"That's quite fine, I-I should...stop here." The Duke appeared green in the face swaying slightly.
"Nonsense! One is barely enough to put hair on your chest. Another!" Sir Phillip teased.
The alcohol made the Duke's head swim, his judgement already clouded he agreed to another. They continued the rotation two more times before the Duke was barely able to remain on his chair.
"ANOTHER!" The Duke now screamed.
Those in the tavern watched amused, as the previously straight laced man swayed and sloshed his cup everywhere. He was good and drunk.
"I think you've had quite enough." Sir Phillip said with a hearty chuckle.
He lifted the bottle out of the Duke's reach before the drunk nobleman could protest.
"S-sir Phillip *hic* I sheeem to find myself *hic* a bit in the cupsshhh." The Duke slurred with a happy grin on his face.
"Quite right, my lord. Should we change venues perhaps get some air?"
The wheels of the plan were now turning in full motion. Sir Phillip exchanged a look with another member of the expedition who was seated across the tavern. The silent cue to begin their scheme.
"AIR! Whaaat a shplendid i-*hic*-dea." The Duke wobbled to his feet and swayed before almost dropping to the floor.
"Woaaah there!" Sir Phillip quickly moved to support the stumbling Duke.
The Duke's head lolled to the side as he took a shaky step forward. The two men slowly left the tavern and walked along the empty streets. The noise of celebration died down as they made their way into the deepest corners of the village.
"S-sir Phillip," The Duke popped the 'p' audibly, "where on *hic* earth are we going?"
