Crusade Gone Awry

This story is a work of fiction. Any connection to real events or people, past or present, is coincidental. All characters of this story are age 18 or older.

This chapter contains: albinism, bathroom/bathing/bathtub sex, groping, cleaning, hurt/comfort, creampie, massaging, body-rubbing, edible oils, underwater sex, anal, cowgirl, doggy style, and in a weird way a huge age gap.

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

HERE IS THE TRUTH, HOPE YOU LIKE IT!

*

Marcus Lionheart had died and gone to the underworld. At least, that's what it felt like. He was caught in a terrible nightmare. His mind swam in darkness and when he came up for air, his vision filled with shapes and colors. Something was with him, something white with glowing red eyes. Every time he tried to escape the darkness the ghost would seize him and force back down. It would pour something down his throat that he had to drink or choke on. Then he would sink back down into the depths of blackness. It was a nightmare. It was terrible. He didn't know how to escape.

He had been surrounded by death. Everyone in his army was slaughtered in front of him, but he got to live. Lionheart always got to live. No matter how much suffering around him, he would never be hurt! Everyone else had to suffer! He had to live through it, knowing that he was the cause. He began running at full speed through the desert. He had no idea how long or how far. It was just sand and heat. He had memories of a gate which he wanted to smash through. Then he was on the ground, and the ghost began to haunt him, leaving him paralyzed. His mind was empty, his body was weak, and all he could do was drown in the blackness. He hated it. If this was the underworld, so be it, but he thought that at least the goddess would give him the mercy of telling him he was going there.

Marcus awoke with a start. His eyes darted to and fro in complete confusion. His vision was blurry, as if he were underwater. He tried to lift himself up, but found he was so weak that even breathing was a struggle. There was a blanket on him, but it felt like it weighed a ton. He squirmed, trying to move even an inch.

Abruptly a voice shushed him. A white hand hovered, holding what appeared to be a canteen of some kind. His head was lifted, and the container brought to his mouth. Marcus drank, too weak to fight back. It wasn't water. It was something thicker, sweeter, and earthy tasting. Once he had taken a few gulps, he discovered that he felt a little stronger. His mouth was wiped from the excess drink and his head was placed flat again. Everything around him was white. The floors, the ceiling, everything. As his vision cleared, he saw that he was, indeed, in a room made of white marble. There were intricate carvings on the walls and ceiling, and every inch of it was spotless. It was so foreign to him that he couldn't process it.

"Where am I?" Marcus croaked.

"Oh! You're awake!" a sweet voice said. Someone grabbed him and lifted him upright into a seated position, propping up pillows behind him. It took only a few moments, and the commander could finally look down. He saw his hands. They were thin, pale, and bony. His arms were covered by a white robe, but they looked equally frail. It was no surprise that nothing on his body would work.

"Are you feeling better?" the voice asked.

"Better?" he asked. "Better from what?" He turned his head. The moment he did, he let out a shout and jumped. He came face-to-face with his ghost. He found that instead of an evil spirit, it was a young woman. "You're...you're not a ghost!"

The young woman slouched a little, looking displeased. "No, I'm not a ghost."

"You're albino," Marcus said. The young woman at his bedside had silver hair, very pale skin, and pink eyes. She was wearing a white silk dress and had a wreath of colorful flowers sitting on her white hair. She had a mysterious beauty to her, something that unsettled the commander slightly.

"Yes, I am," the young woman said flatly, her brow furrowed. After a moment of processing, Marcus's mind caught up.

"Oh! I apologize. I um...was having some terrible dreams. I think my mind made you into a ghost."

"That would explain all the kicking and screaming," the woman stated.

Marcus flinched. "Did I hurt you? I didn't mean to."

"It's fine, no one's hurt. You weren't in your right mind."

"May I ask your name?"

"Lilly."

"Lilly, my name is Marcus Lionheart. How did I get here?"

"Um...that's what we would like to know. You just kind of started beating on the town gate, ranting and raving."

Marcus paused, trying to think. "I am...was a crusader. I had come to fight and defeat the demon king. My army was destroyed and I...don't remember much after that."

"From where?"

"I don't know. There were these things from under the sand. They tore my army apart."

"Assassin weevils?"

"Yes! Renard mentioned something about them. I should have listened to him..."

"Those things are way out there! You ran from their nest all the way here? I don't even think that's possible for a human! You would have to be out there for over a week!"

"Weeks?" Marcus asked. He continued to try and think. His mind was just blank. "I can't remember any of it."

"Well, you appear to have lost your senses when you were at the gates. You were skin and bones, ranting and raving while foaming at the mouth. Then again, it's not the first time the desert has done that to someone."

"Where am I?"

Lilly grinned slightly, as if apprehensive to speak. "You're where you wanted to be. This is the Demon's Palace."

Marcus's heart pounded in his ears as his body went rigid. He had made it! He had found the demon's home!

"Where is he? I must find the demon!" he shouted, trying to scramble out of bed. Lilly jumped up and seized him. With surprising strength, or maybe due to Marcus's weakness, she shoved him back down easily.

"Stop! You'll hurt yourself!" she shouted. "You're in no condition to walk, much less fight!"

"But the demon! I have to face him! I have to!" Marcus continued to rave.

"He isn't here!" she shrieked. Marcus stopped, the fight abruptly leaving him.

"He's not?"

"No. The demon king likes to take long walks, sometimes for days, sometimes for months. He isn't here, and there's nothing you can do until he comes back."

Marcus caught his breath for a moment, surprised to find that even that small action left him absolutely exhausted.

"Are you...one of his servants?" he asked.

"Uh...yeah, pretty much," Lilly said, a little uneasily.

"Won't he be angry with you? For helping me?"

"Oh no. The demon king loves a good fight. If you're going to fight him, he's going to want you to be at your best. It's going to take time for you to get your strength back."

"I see...I don't..." Marcus's head began to bobble. His vision was blurring, and his back was losing strength.

"Oh, looks like that's all the energy you have," Lilly announced. "You need more rest."

"I hate...dreaming..." he complained, being lowered to the bed.

"That's not up to me, I'm afraid."

Marcus sank back down into the unwelcome blackness.

*

Years ago, Marcus Lionheart was a rising soldier in the church's army. He was widely known, even among the peasants. Wherever he went, people hailed with compliments or threw flowers on the ground before him. It actually made Marcus uncomfortable, but he was told it was for the good of the church. Having righteous people like him serving the people brought prestige to his religion, or so he was told. Marcus only wanted to do his job and protect the people.

Marcus entered the office of Bishop Riker. He smartly saluted in front of the powerful man of the church, who nodded at him to sit down. The colonel gladly obeyed, looking very uncomfortable. Bishop Riker was in the running to be the next High Priest of Vordan, the leader of their entire church. It was not wise to anger him.

"I've been hearing good things, colonel," the bishop began with a smile. He looked like a kindly old man with white hair and wrinkles on his face. Marcus knew the truth, however. Bishop Riker was a shrewd politician. There were many people he had knocked down and even more whose careers he ruined.

"Thank you, your grace," Marcus responded stiffly. "That means a lot, coming from you."

"I've been reviewing your record," the bishop continued. He opened the book on his desk, a very rare commodity in the kingdom. He flipped through some pages to find the one apparently chronicling the colonel's career. "You have served with distinction since the moment you enlisted. There isn't a single complaint or bad report from any of your commanders. Truly remarkable." The bishop folded his hand together and sat them on the book. The sleeves of his richly colored robe hung over the sides of the pages. It was red silk, incredibly rare and expensive even for the richest among them.

"As you might know, High Priest Abrams, blessed be he, is getting quite old. There is fear he might die within the year."

"I pray this is not the case," Marcus said.

"As do I, but be that as it may, plans need to be made. There is going to be a...reshuffling of upper leadership following his death. This includes the Generals of Vordan."

Marcus went stiff again. The Generals of Vordan were the highest ranking members of the church's army. There were only four at any one time, and it usually took a lifetime to get there. Marcus had risen through the ranks so quickly that he was only one rank away from general, but to go over that final hurdle...

"You grace, you aren't suggesting...?"

"Your stellar record is unprecedented colonel," the bishop interrupted. "You would be the youngest General of Vordan in history, but you also would be the most deserved in history. I believe stellar work is to be rewarded. It's my philosophy. There is just one final thing you need to do, however."

Marcus felt his throat begin to tighten. The Generals of Vordan were required to have experience in all departments of the church. The colonel had done so...except for one. The one he had been avoiding all his life.

"The Inquisitors," the colonel said. The Sacred Congregation of Inquisition was the department of the church responsible for rooting out heresy or combatting the use of magic. Although most of the time it was merely asking questions or requiring acts of repentance, sometimes the methods were far more barbaric. Those that refused to confess or repent could be subject to torture or even execution. It was something Marcus wanted no part of, but it was required if he hoped to become a general.

"I understand that you find such methods distasteful," Bishop Riker continued. "You certainly aren't the first to feel that way. It is an unfortunate, but necessary, part of our church. Now I have spoken to the High Inquisitor, and he has agreed to fast-track your training. As opposed to taking two years, he feels he might be able to complete it in perhaps four months. It will be grueling, but it will be over quicker. Once that is complete, I can arrange your promotion to General of Vordan. Of course, you're free to turn down this deal, although it might take you decades to reach this level again."

Marcus tightened his jaw. He was, in fact, not free to turn this deal down. He knew how this worked. Bishop Riker was clearly forcing him to take this favor or never make to the rank of General of Vordan. He wanted Marcus to owe him so the colonel would be loyal. In exchange, when Riker became High Priest of Vordan he would have a powerful friend. Marcus found such dealmaking obscene, but there was nothing he could do to stop Riker from becoming High Priest. As a General of Vordan, Marcus would be able to set policies and create missions that would help people across the country and beyond. The sheer amount of people he could reach in just one year would never compare to a lifetime as a colonel. If he turned down this deal, and as long as Bishop Riker was High Priest, he would never be a General of Vordan. There was no telling how long Riker would live either. Marcus had reservations, but...

"When would I begin?" the colonel finally asked. Bishop Riker's face brightened as he seemingly relaxed.

"Right away, actually!" the bishop announced. "There is some business in this town the High Inquisitor needs to deal with. It would be a great start to your training!"

Marcus's stomach turned over. He hadn't expected it so soon. He knew Lieutenant Colonel Steinem could handle the legion in his absence, but to go from defending people to prosecuting them so soon would be difficult. He was in no position to refuse.

"I look forward to the High Inquisitor's training," Marcus said in a flat voice.

"Yes, I'm sure," Riker replied. "Don't worry colonel, this will all be over soon, and we'll all get what we want...and need!"

*

Marcus jerked awake, taking a deep breath. A wave of relief came over him. He hated dreams. They loved to replay his past repeatedly to him. It was the one thing he wanted to avoid above all else, yet his unconscious mind bombarded him with it.

He turned his head to see that his usual attendant was there, still sitting with him. Lilly appeared to have a plate of fruit beside her on a table. She was peeling one apart, humming to herself. She was wearing the exact same thing as before, a white robe and a wreathe of flowers on her head. Had she been here the whole time?

"How long was I asleep?" Marcus asked. Lilly's head jerked around and smiled.

"You're awake!" she said, with some excitement. She hopped over to his bed and set him up again, pillows being put at his back. "It was only about a day. I think you're finally recovering."

"If you say so," Marcus said. "Do you ever change your clothes or that wreathe on your head?"

"I have, but pretty much all my clothes are white. Also, the wreathe is enchanted. It never comes off."

"Wha...really?"

Lilly nodded. "It was a gift for my birthday once. It's indestructible, the flowers never wilt, and it can't come off. Want to try?" She leaned towards him. With a ton of effort, Marcus lifted up his hand and grabbed the headwear. He pulled on it, but it didn't budge. With as much strength as he could manage, gave it a powerful yank.

"Ow!" Lilly cried. Marcus released her and his arm instantly dropped to the bed, shaking as if exhausted.

"Sorry!" he cried.

"It's alright, people always want to try."

Marcus stared down at his hands. They were still thin and weak, but the color on them was somewhat better. They still had no strength. Just tugging on that wreathe made him feel as if he had been lifting weights for hours. He wasn't even close to his old strength. No sooner had he looked up from his hands then Lilly shoved a gourd canteen in his face. Marcus, puzzled, reached up and took it. It felt extremely heavy, although he knew it really wasn't.

"What is this?" he asked.

"It's a potion we've been feeding you," Lilly explained. "It'll help you get healthy."

Marcus paused. He was a little wary of potions. Many of them made him sick. His pause seemed to make Lilly uncomfortable. She shifted a little, clearly waiting on him to drink it. Marcus gave her a sideways glance.

"What manner of potion is this?" he asked.

"It's a...fortifying potion," Lilly explained. "It's just herbs and some...enchantments."

"Enchantments?" Marcus was growing increasingly bothered. Performing magic was forbidden by the church, although the commandments were silent about consuming goods enchanted with magic. He would rather not risk it. He held it back to her. "I think I'll pass."

Lilly went stiff. If it were possible, she turned a little whiter than she already was.

"What is it?" Marcus demanded.

"You have to," she said, looking a little frightened.

"Why?" Marcus was raising his voice.

"You just...have to. I uh..."

"What is it? What is in this? Why are you trying to make me take it?" Marcus was now shouting and appeared ready to throw it across the room.

"Okay! Okay!" Lilly cried, holding her hands up. "Don't do anything to it! I'll explain!"

Marcus finally began to calm down, lowering his hand back down. Lilly hesitated, gulping nervously before beginning.

"I wanted you...to get a little better before I told you. I guess that's not really an option now. You spent a lot of time in the desert. Most people die within days without food or water. You somehow made it over a week. When you arrived at the gates you were half dead...literally."

"Literally?"

Lilly bit her lip. "You can't go that long without food and water without consequences. When you got here, many of your organs were damaged...and a few had died."

Marcus felt a wave of dread wash over him. He hadn't even thought of his body. He just assumed he would eventually get better. "Which?"

"Your kidneys stopped working. Your skin turned yellow, so your liver. Your heart was also acting strangely, missing beats, and sounding muffled. All of these organs are either severely damaged or dead. This potion fixes that. It forces them to work again...but you have to keep taking it. If you stop drinking the potion your organs will fail and you'll die."

The colonel felt something tight in his chest. A cold sensation went through him.

"This potion..." he croaked. "what is it?"

"It's a vitality potion," Lilly explained. "It's made with an herb that grows here...and only here."

"Only here!?"

"The demon king tried to grow it other places, but it never took. Only the lake in his estate can support the plant, nowhere else."

"I'll have to stay here? For the rest of my life?" Marcus began to feel his throat tighten. A peculiar feeling, one he had only experienced once before, began to creep up on him. His heart pounded, he struggled to breathe, and whole body trembled.

"We can prepare barrels of it, but it won't last more than a few weeks," Lilly explained. "You can travel through some of the desert...but not any further."

Marcus felt himself crumble under the weight of his new reality. The dam inside of him that had been holding back years of pain and misery shattered open. He was forever broken, too weak to fight, too weak to finish this crusade...too weak to get salvations for his sins. All the things he had done amounted to nothing. He curled up like a child and trembled, unable to process the tidal wave of pain that spilled out of him. His sins crushed him completely.

He felt someone envelop him. Lilly sat on his lap, her knees on either side of his legs. She had placed his head on her shoulder, with one arm wrapped around him and the other stroking his head. She said sweet words into his ears as she cradled him like a child. Having lost all semblance dignity, Marcus raised his hands. His fingers gripped her robe, as if he was holding on for dear life. Lilly continued holding him, allowing him to express his pain.

"It'll be okay," she whispered in his ear. "Everything will be fine. Just let it out."

"It won't be fine!" Marcus cried into her shoulder. "You don't understand! You don't know what I've done!"

"It doesn't matter what you've done," Lilly said calmly. "You're still here. You're still alive."

"I shouldn't be! My sins are stacked too high! I came here to wipe them away! It was the only way for salvation! I failed! I failed the crusade! I failed my men! I got them killed! I ignored Renard! It was my fault! There was no salvation! I only added to my sins! Now I'm broken! I cannot fight! I cannot fix this! I cannot have my sins forgiven!"

"Hey! Hey! No!" Lilly pulled away and held his face in front of hers. Her mysterious pink eyes stared into his dark brown ones. She wiped his face with her thumbs before continuing. "You are not broken! I know it's bad right now, but this is not the end! You have to drink this for the rest of your life, but you will regain your strength in time. You can, and will, live a full life. You can fight again, I promise."