Nigglings

"Don't you just adore the sweathouses? For all the comforts of the Tatters, I will miss them when I return." I had told the truth, mostly, flavoured just a smidge for the sake of my sweaty companions.

Further from the comfortable safety of the New Legion Road, in the small villages, in their small stone and conewood chambers, they did not separate by gender. I craved the easy rapport and fanciful conversation Jes, my guard, so readily provided. To say nothing of her pleasant form.

Baron Felthau said nothing. The noble, pale like the natives and unburnt by sun or work, had arrived yesterday with his daughter and had only spoken to the innkeep by gruff commands – and to me not at all. Now he shifted his massive body and wobbling rolls of fat pointedly away from me.

"You are a merchant, are you not?" the knight asked. The final man in the steam-filled room had arrived just a few bells ago, riding a magnificent charger and covered in glittering plate. Jes and I had marveled at his shield. The device showed a naked woman, raising up scales with her right hand and with her left hand held the cup that obscured her sex.

"I am. I trade in pelts, spices, jewellery and assorted oddities, Meyhm, at your service."

"Then refrain from addressing your betters unless spoken to." He turned towards the baron. "Can you believe it? The insolence? A common peddler and a foreigner besides."

The fat man nodded. "You have my thanks, blademaster. I must admit to being rendered breathless and humiliated by the contemptuous audacity. Thank you – again." He did not even bother to lower his voice, but slithered closer to the knight. "I have seen him and his hired goon leering at my daughter, and I was beginning to fear the worst."

"Give their kind even a few coins or a shred of power and they will band together and menace gentle folk. My quest urges me ever onward, but my sword is yours should you need it," said the knight.

Felthau squealed with unconcealed delight. "You're northward bound, right? If I could impose for just a slight detour? Whent Keep is but a day's ride off the road."

"You know Count Whent?" It was the knight's turn to smile. "I schooled with his nephew."

To my utter lack of surprise, the fat baron and the muscle-bound knight shared a number of acquaintances. Seemingly forgotten, I listened as they talked. I learnt the knight's name and title, Sir Johann von Ossenfrey, second son to the Margrave of Ossenfrey. I also learnt a litany of names and accolades, soon forgotten, of chieftains, counts and petty nobles besides.

For a while I amused myself by watching. My observation of the baron did little to change my opinion of him: He sat, spread-legged and fat covered, close to the knight and clearly enamoured with the other man's narration. He was shaven all over except for the long braid of wet and grey hair which hung from his dome.

The knight, on the other hand, seemed marginally more interesting and better looking besides. Well formed – if ostentatious – muscles and flowing, long blonde hair, dampened by steam and sweat. He easily dominated the conversation, with Felthau only occasionally and meekly contributing. He did, however, take great care to always cover his private parts with hands or legs, a strange kind of modesty, the baron and myself did not share.

With my curiosity satisfied, I was about to leave early when their talk turned to the baron's daughter.

"Have you seen my Miranda?", the fat man asked.

"Only in passing. She seems comely enough,"

"She is. Very. And attentive besides. She is an excellent weavess and plays the harp like a Crow Maiden."

For a few heartbeats they were silent, then the knight asked: "Am I right to assume that there has not been a betrothal yet?"

Felthau slid ever closer to the knight and even lowered his voice. Just a bit. "Indeed not. Few of the local stock would be worthy of her and my duties have kept me away from Aspira for quite some time."

"How old is she?"

"Twenty-three summers."

The knight showed off teeth in shining white. "And her dowry?"

"Sizable. I can do a thousand dragons, more in land."

They moved closer still. The knight spoke: "I am for now bound by my obligations, but I expect to return in a years time – maybe less. And I do consider some amount of sympathy, of comparability a necessity. But if our time on the road proves amiable then I am in turn amenable to this proposal." They shook hands.

During my time on the continent I have learned to tolerate – to like even – many of their savage customs, but this kind of courtship made my skin crawl. So I hurried to face myself away and made towards the outdoor pool. My face undoubtedly betrayed my disgust and I did not dare anger the hulking warrior.

The water was clear and cold, and washed away my dour thoughts. Despite the frigid air, I stayed and swam a few laps. From behind the reed fence I could hear Jes' voice and the stifled laughter of another woman. The daughter no doubt. I could not make out any words and more than ever wished for a better arrangement.

They were still talking and giggling when I left, shivering, the water. I dried myself and – in hindsight carelessly – discarded my soaked washcloth. When I entered the antechamber, however, I found it emptied. There was no trace of my clothes, no trace of any clothes at all. "Innkeep!"

"Master Meyhm?" he answered. He shuffled towards the room, but did not enter.

I exhaled loudly. "Where are my clothes?"

"Sir?"

"Did you take them for a wash?"

"No Sir, I – may I come in?"

I opened the door.

He scurried inside and looked around the denuded room. "Nigglings," he whispered.

"What nows?"

"Nigglings, Sir, they," he was interrupted by the patter of wet feet.

"Boss." Jes had raised her tattooed arm and closed fist up to her chest.

"Jes." I returned her greeting and with some effort tore my eyes away from her hand, breasts, and nipples.

"Clothes are gone."

"As I was saying, Sir – and M'Lady, Nigglings. They are mischievous, they are. But not to worry, we will have you sorted in no time."

Two more sets of heavy footfalls echoed from behind me.

"What is the meaning of this? Where are my clothes?", the knight had only found his sword and, missing clothes and armour, held it awkwardly in front of his sweat-covered body. "And why is there a woman in the room?"

"As I was saying -" said the innkeep.

He was interrupted by the baron who now stopped starring at Jes' tits: "What about my daughter? What happened here? I demand an explanation!"

The clothed proprietor did his best to calm the livid nobles. He cleared his throat and raised his voice. "Nigglings," he finally managed to say, "mischievous forest spirits. They like to amuse themselves with pranks and japes, but they are harmless. Mostly. And they are easy enough to appease. Please, noble Lords –and Lady, if you remain calm we will have this situation sorted in no time."

"A likely story," said the knight. "I name thee thief. Blackguard! Return our possessions at once!" Visible rage had gripped him, but he seemed hesitant to brandish his blade.

"My Lord! I would never. Feel free to search these halls from cellar to roof if my word is not enough."

"What do you think?" I turned to my guard.

She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead before she answered: "I didn't think we'd find any this far down, but I do remember the story and I figure I would've noticed a human thief."

"So what do we do now?"

A telltale smirk lit up her face. "I figure some drinks on the house might soothe our tempers." The clothed man was quick to give his assent. "And then we will have to see."

"Fine." The knight had calmed down somewhat. "Innkeep, prepare the drinks and then find us some spare clothes." He turned around and retreated back towards the pool.

"Where should I serve the drinks? I don't think the taproom would be appropriate."

Jes flashed her most winning smile. "The taproom will do fine. Thanks."

Our host stalked away, swaying in a confused daze.

"What about my daughter?" said Felthau.

"She seemed perfectly content when I left."

"But – but her clothes!"

"Gone, obviously."

"Oh no! My poor baby is all alone. She must be dreadfully frightened." Felthau's head had turned to an alarming shade of purple, and his breath rattled in his rip cage.

"I suppose I could check in on her," Jes said.

Emotions battled across his ruddy face, until concern won. "Please do."

"You coming, boss?", Jes asked.

I had, for a moment, considered retrieving my washcloth, but now instead left the antechamber with her.

"Never a boring day", I said.

"Could be worse", she answered.

I looked around the deserted taproom and shrugged. "Sure. Free drinks are free drinks."

She laughed. "And you get to see me naked."

I made a show of looking her over. From the shoulder-length copper hair down to her deceptively innocent face, down to her impressive bust. I lingered, admired the spots where the sun had kissed her skin. The savage spirals and wild beauty of the runic tattoos drew me along her arms. My eyes wandered, from her red nipples past the scars and hard musculature of her torso down to her – somewhat haphazardly – shaven sex.

She stopped my gaze with crossed palms. "Pervert." Then she started to laugh and slowly turned on her heel. "Are you still watching?"

I was indeed. Almost lost in the maze-like mixture of runes and coiled lines of her back tattoo, I only caught a glimpse of her firm ass before she completed her turn.

"You really are a pervert."

I did not even bother to hide my erection and lifted my hands in surrender. "Guilty. Though I at least limit my interest to grown women instead of preying on naive girls."

"Preying? You wound me." She touched her chest, a gesture of innocence, undercut somewhat by the effect it had on her naked breasts.

I felt unable to think of a teasing retort or clever witticism in that precise moment.

"I can be very well-behaved." Her voice had turned almost childlike. "I'm a sweet, little innocent girl myself." She paused. "Sometimes."

"You were saying?" I looked up to her face.

"You're impossible," she said. I had grown to like her exaggerated huff. "And you do not deserve me."

"True."

"Though you can be charming when you're humble."

"Thanks?"

"Don't get smug now, it doesn't suit you. I need to go be a good girl. Oh don't be sad, you may even get a reward out of it as well."

"Reward?"

"Shh. Go on, have a drink. You'll see – or not." She was away.

The innkeep had the good courtesy not to comment on my shrinking erection when he served me the ale. Before baron and knight appeared, I had managed two quiet and delightful sips. Both had attempted to cover their private parts with their sweat-soaked washcloths, but the small pieces of fabric proved difficult. Felthau capitulated first. They had not even reached the table in the far corner when his piece, to small for his massive waist, slid down to the ground. He cursed loudly and walked the rest of the way in the nude.

The knight managed to sit down, but soon shifted and prodded, clearly uncomfortable, at his moist cloth. "Clothing. And hurry," he demanded when he was served his ale. I could not hear the innkeep's answer but saw him dash upstairs a short while later.

He and Jes returned almost simultaneously. The innkeep carried a few white bed sheets and a single pair of pants. My guard took one look at the pile of almost clothing and, still fully naked, declined. I reached them before the nobles and too took a look at the pants. They were clean, but far to spacious for my bookkeeper's frame. I also declined, though with less vigour than Jes.

The knight, who stood two heads larger than any of us, grabbed for a sheet with haste. He attempted to wear it like a Velvean noble's toga.

"Sir, a word?" Jes said. She had shot me a flashing wink before she addressed the baron, who worked hard to sausage himself into the just too small pants.

"What?" he asked, after he had given up his attempt of closing the buttons.

"Your daughter, my Lord, she wishes to join us."

"What? Impossible!"

"She is all alone in there and afraid. I could bring her some...clothes."

"My wife got that apron she could borrow," the innkeep offered.

Felthau hesitated, sighed, and then nodded. "Fine. Being alone in this room... My poor child. Hurry, please."

Jes followed the innkeep behind the bar and into the kitchen.

"What are you doing?", I whispered when she returned with the grease-covered apron. Shushing me, she grabbed one of the sheets. Hips swaying, she returned to the woman's sweatroom.

At the neighbouring table, von Ossenfrey had lost his battle with the irksome textile, and had resigned himself to wearing it like a hooded cloak. With the cloth draped in loose strands over his privates and few parts of his body, he looked less like a noble knight and more like an actor portraying one of the philosophical masters in one of Ghalizi's lewder comedies.

"You really don't want one?" The innkeep set the remaining sheets down by my table.

"Nah. But I could go for another drink."

"Sure thing."

He returned quickly, carrying two fresh mugs.

"Sit," I said. We drank.

We were two gulps deep into the foamy brew when the door to the woman's sweatroom opened. I almost choked. Jes, still naked and still magnificent, was flanked by a – technically clothed – young woman. She wore her sheet in a fashion similar to the knight's, but the gentle flow of golden hair and white fabric framed her form with a surprising, simple charm. Even the grimy apron, which barely covered her modest breasts and lower body, evoked domestic bliss and almost Pallatinate elegance – rather than the reality of rubbery yolks and congealed fat.

"Miranda!" The baron wobbled upright and hurried to shield her from us with his girth. He was mostly successful.

"View could be worse, eh?", Jes swaggered over to our table and I could only nod. For a while the three of us were quiet; content to drink and steal occasional glances at the slips in Miranda's veiling.

"Barkeep!", the knight broke the amicable silence by slamming down his empty mug.

"Another drink, Sir?"

"And be quick about it. No. Wait! First tell me what you intend to do regarding these heathenous spirits."

"Sir," the innkeep bowed low. "We will leave an offering. A bowl of honeyed milk, a few cups of ale and y'all will have your possessions returned in but a few days."

Jes and I looked at each other. She smiled her wryest smile. The nobles were less amused.

"Days?" the knight asked, voice raised in anger.

"At most." Our portly host had prepared two more mugs of ale and filled a cup with summerwine, but did not dare approach the nobles' table.

"Don't be daft, husband." His plumpish wife had appeared, apron-less, from the kitchens. "They are bored, restless and eager to see some pretty young skin. Give 'em a proper show and y'all'll get your clothes back lickty-split."

I had raised an eyebrow. Jes smirked and shrugged. There was no guile on the alewife's moony face; not even the hint of soused lechery we shared with her husband.

"Preposterous." Felthau had moved to cover his daughter's ears.

There is a long tradition of drawing the Lawbringer's gracious train frolicking with grotesques. Before my oldest sister had chosen rhetoric as her vocation, it had been a favourite theme of her artistic effort. The results still furbish the walls of our cliff-side home with numinous promise. I was, in short, very interested in this farcical approximation.

"Drinks. Now!" The knight was not one to appreciate art.

The innkeep obeyed the bellowed command with some reluctance, And he was seized, as soon as he set down the tablet, by the neck.

"Surely that wife of yours is not suggesting even further filth and debauchery?"

"I am sorry, Sir. As I said before, a few meagre offerings will be more than enough to appease them." He was released with an annoyed grunt.

"You're not married, are you, Master Meyhm?" the innkeep asked. He had quickly fled back to our table.

"Nah."

"Good. Only thing worse than a wife is a smart wife."

Jes chuckled. "Poor guy. Life must truly be pain unending."

He sighed theatrically.

"She's right, though – isn't she?" I asked.

Jes nodded and the innkeep cursed.

"Blue bastards are randy li'l fuckers", he had lowered his voice to a whisper, "and naked skin is rarely enough to please 'em."

"Let's take the barbarian," Felthau's voice was oily and slurred, but intruded on our conversation with ease, "shameless slattern like her is practically begging for a dicking. Cupbearer's mercy, we can do her together; give these freaks a proper show."

Jes answered with a rude gesture.

"So the two of you are not," the innkeep said, "because if you'd – well there is power in a – in a first coupling."

"We're not..." I said.

"...and I doubt it'd work," Jes added.

"She is not interested in men."

Jes winced, but the inkeep nodded: "All sorts."

At the neighbouring table, the knight had again raised his voice: "I hope you're not trying some trickery, Felthau. I shan't defile my own bride-to-be to please some loathsome spirits."

The baron hurriedly whispered something.

"That might do", Ossenfrey said, "though I am loath to end my abstention early, there is precedent for – for education."

"If I may?", Miranda's voice sounded loud and surprisingly confident. "There is another way."

"Miranda!"

"No, father. I would not want to inconvenience Lord von Ossenfrey needlessly. For Dame Jessarine has confided in me, and I believe she may be receptive to", she blushed, "me."

"Miranda! I cannot believe you'd ever – I cannot believe what I am hearing."

"She is not wrong." I could not tell whether the knight was disappointed or relieved. "Innocent play among young women is a harmless enough fancy, yet may be enough to," he paused, "appease these irksome spirits."

I tried not to gawk. Judging by Jes' knowing smile I was less than successful.

Miranda's steps were dainty, yet she seemed so self-assured. She offered her delicate hand to my musclebound guard who touched the palm to her lips. Miranda giggled and the women embraced. I stared without shame as they kissed. Miranda's hand was on Jes' hip and moved lower. She had almost grabbed the naked ass, but had stopped herself. I mumbled a curse.

"Do not be rough." The knight had followed Miranda over and pointed his flattened palm at my guard. She glared at him, and he withdrew some inches. "You will behave yourself", he said, "do not be manish and do nothing that could dishonour her body."

Jes did not answer and instead led the younger woman away.

Footsteps. Upstairs, a door squeaked. I could hear them on the ancient wooden floor, followed by the soft banging of wood on wood. Then the moaning started.

"I cannot," the baron had turned pale, "my poor daughter."

"In moments like these I find strength in prayer", the knight said. "Would you like to join me – outside?"

They left.

"I should see to the wife and – and talk." The innkeep walked with a pronounced limp, and soon I could hear moans from the kitchens as well.

I sat alone in the empty taproom, sporting my own prodigious erection. The strain sorely tempted me to spy on the couple in the kitchen or to pleasure myself there and then. Instead, I stalked towards the door. Through he crack, I watched the praying nobles, almost considering to join.

Both men were on their knees and intoned their prayers in the deep and throaty syllables of the Draconic tongue. A puzzling picture of strange sincerity. Despite their almost nudity, I almost forgot our situation. Then the moans upstairs grew louder.