The Warrior and the Storyteller

Once upon a time there was a Freewoman of High Caste. She was to be FC-ed to a Merchant, but alas, on the Bridal Journey to his Homestone, her caravan was set upon by Mercenaries... the men were killed; the valuables seized... the maidens accompanying her enslaved... and as the lady was of High Caste, the Mercenary Captain offered her a choice - the collar... or the silver cup.

This lady took one look at the Mercenary Captain... a warrior large and strong... so handsome, she actually felt herself swooning... but being a lady of intelligence as well as great beauty and wealth, she proposed thusly: She would spend the next 40 nights telling him tales and regaling him with stories... if after 40 nights, he was pleased with her - he would set her Free... and if not - he would slay her honourably. Delighted at the lady's courage and spirit, the Rarius accepted the challenge.

She was kept as a captive of honour in his tent... and was permitted to retain her veils of modesty. And so the first few nights passed pleasantly enough... the lady spun tales of high adventure... of battles and love... of treachery and deceit... of friendship and martrydom. Her voice was very pleasing to him... soft... well-modulated... dulcet tones tinged with a hint of restrained passion. Her eyes which glowed over her veils were beautiful... large and green and held his heart captive within the first few Ahn. Her slender form well-concealed by the robes offered but a hint of the treasures underneath... and when she would push back a stray lock of golden hair with a slender gloved hand, he felt his fists clenching...

Night after night he came back to his tent and night after night she regaled him with a story. Never were there 2 the same... and never did he cease to be delighted with her...

And so the nights passed. The maidens whom had travelled with her had long since become pleasure slaves to his men... her riches long stripped and distributed to the mercenaries. The Rarius found himself aching to race back to his tent after the long day just to be near her... and fought with himself at every turn not to seize her slender figure in his powerful arms and crush her to him. He was, after all, a man of Honour... and she, a freewoman of High Caste.

And so... 39 nights passed... and the last night of the challenge was upon them. Was she to continue to be so pleasing... forcing his hand to free her, and perhaps never set eyes upon her again? or was she to fail to live up to her potential and would his hand be forced to draw her blood with his sword?

All that day he growled at his men... cuffed the slaves... kicked his kaiila... refused his meals. His mind and soul were in torment. He cursed the Priest Kings for sending him this woman... why did he accept the challenge in the first place??? Was he not a man??? Should he have not facestripped her at first sight and placed her in his steel as is befitting a woman?

When the 3 Moons glowed in the evening sky, he stalked to his tent. He was not a happy man. Drawing back the curtains partitioning off the Captive alcove, he nearly keeled over from shock. The freewoman stood before him, wearing naught but a bit of silk and the very last inner veil upon her face. Lifting her green eyes to his, she spoke. "This is the last night together, Captain... and on the morrow I shall either be returned to my father's House or in the Cities of Dust. I took the liberty of allowing you to have something to remember me by..."

Her bare hand indicated the warming kalana near the fire. "By your favour, Captain... do sit... for this last story will be one of sadness and bittersweet emotions...". Growling under his breath... the Rarius nodded and sat crosslegged... gritting his teeth, determined to make this night last. His heart pounded so furiously as to threaten to leap out of the very chest cavity wherein it lay... gazing upon her... her beauty almost revealed... the outline of her features almost in view under the sheer veil... her long limbs hardly concealed by the silken garment... her lush firm young breasts pressing against the soft fabric... Wondering if a man could actually die of lust, he shook his head to clear it and kept his eyes upon her.

The lady moved with the grace of a woman to the center of his tent. "This last story will not be in words, Captain." Her voice was husky and raw with emotion. "For I am a woman... and know of these things... one of them is that what words cannot express, perhaps the body can...".

And she begun to dance. This was not the wanton, wild dance of the experienced red-silk kajira... the fire of belly burning bright... nor was it the dance of the frightened white-silk... the dance of submission to one who owns her. This was a dance of a woman... a woman torn... between the propriety of her status as a High Lady of bearing and the desire raging with in her as a woman awakened. She danced her terror... of being captured on her way to a Companionship with one she had never met, nor loved... she danced her relief at being treated with kindness and respect upon her capture... she danced her shyness at spending such an intimate amount of time with a man... she danced her loneliness when he was away during the day about the business of men... and she danced her grief... at having to leave him.

She danced... and when she was through... she was kneeling quietly before him in the position of the free woman... in Tower... breathing heavily... a sheen of perspiration coating her heated skin... her light garments clinging to her form...and she wept. And she awaited her fate.

The Captain gazed upon her... and wept. Never before had he seen such pure beauty and undiluted innocence. He reached for his kalana and tossed back a gobletful. "You please me greatly, Lady of Stories... I cannot but honour my promise to you." Lowering his head, he continued. "You are free to go... I will send 10 of my men to accompany you back to your father's Homestone... you will return in honour, as is befitting a Lady. He will see you have not been compromised, and your bride-price shall not be forfeited." Choking back a sob, he waved her away. "Leave me!!" his voice was anguished and keened of his loss.

The woman regarded him for a few ehn... and then with a quick, irrevocable motion, ripped the veil from her face. She crossed her wrists and lowered her head before him. "No." was the only word she uttered. With a cry of triumph and delight... the Captain reached forward and seized her... swooping her into his arms...crushing her lips with his in a kiss that sealed their fate forever.