It has been four years, almost to the day that I published the first chapter of Winter Knights. At the time I had so many amazing ideas for this series, but I never got around to writing more than a sentence or two of the next part. Rereading my first chapter, I feel I've grown a lot as a writer and can better tell the story I want to. Forgive me for the immense anticipation I've been building up. I hope to be a little more active in my writing in general, but specifically in continuing this story. If you have any feedback or want to see anything specific from this series, please let me know. But for now, enjoy.
Marlon sat atop a dazzling white stallion and looked down at Melville as it burned. There was something beautiful to the sight, like watching the life bleed out of a worthy opponent. You had to respect it at the same time you had to fear it. The portentions of it all begged the question: When would it be his time?
Idly, the warrior wondered about Bathsheba and whether she was safe. What about Wendy, Jillian, Martha? What about any of those prize whores belonging to Madam Memsim's incredible establishment beside the Champion's Inn?
He turned his eyes from the burning city and focused on the road. None of them were dead, surely. Invading armies never killed the whores. No, one of the greatest pleasures of conquering a city was also conquering the whores.
Still,
he wondered as his horse trotted steadily down the beaten dirt path,
was there some Larkton soldier giving it to Bathsheba right now? How big was that soldier's cock? Was she enjoying herself? Was she enjoying herself more than she had with Marlon?
That last question nearly had the gladiator stopping in his tracks and turning around just to satisfy his curiosity. But returning to the city at this point was suicide, and Torim's map would only be accurate for so long as his brother stayed put. At some point, Torim and Rahab would have to move on in their search for a mythical weapon called coitus.
Marlon shook his head as he rode. Perhaps with just a little more foresight, he could have found Bathsheba and convinced her onto his horse to flee with him. Certainly that would have ensured a free fuck for life--or at least for as long as it took to ride to the ancient capital of Hammondguard.
"Fuck," Marlon muttered under his breath. He rode past a wooden sign whose weathered lettering was just barely visible. It wasn't far, but thinking about that buxom blonde woman had made him undeniably horny. "Why couldn't the larkies stormed any other fucking city in the world?"
He spurred his horse on to a full gallop, determined to reach Hammondguard by sundown. If he hurried, perhaps there would be time to stop at a whorehouse before finding his brother. Nothing could ever compare to Madam Memsim's, but also any port would do in a storm.
Just as the sun was beginning to kiss the horizon, Marlon crested a final hill to see the decrepit old town. At one point in history, this had been the seat of the great King Hammond's reign. His sexual exploits far surpassing his military victories, it had also once been populated by the most sex-crazed citizens in the Western Kingdom.
Those days were well and truly over, Marlon realized even as he entered through the town's busted wooden gate. A man high up on the wall nodded to him wearily as he trotted through. That was the only living presence Marlon saw as he wound his way through the city streets towards the city's center.
Checking his map once more to be certain, Marlon found his way to a tall building that faced the center square. Compared to all the other buildings around it, this one seemed to be in much better condition. The champion hitched his horse and stood at the threshold for a moment, inspecting his surroundings.
At one point there had been a beautiful marble fountain in the center of the square. All that remained of it now was a basin filled with slimy green water. Desperately, Marlon looked from one structure to another--each one more weathered and decrepit than the last. Sadly, no whorehouse, not even a shitty one to wet his balls.
Shaking his head in defeat, Marlon tried to ignore the aching hard-on in his trousers. He gave his horse a sorry pat and entered Torim's hideout.
"May I take your cloak, good sir?" a gentle voice sounded the moment Marlon stepped through the door. It took his eyes a moment to adjust from the gloom outside to the brilliance that awaited in here.
A young brunette girl stood behind a bar to his right, wiping down old ail and bloodstains. She wore a simple dress under a laced bodice that did wonders for her cleavage, small though her breasts were. She looked at him even as she worked, and Marlon's cock twitched slightly in his pants. Maybe there was hope for him yet.
"Ah," Marlon swooned while he gave the young woman a bow. "I would be in your debt if you would help with much more than my cloak."
He strode confidently towards where the woman worked, ignoring the few sorry patrons who sat haphazardly amongst a collection of round wooden tables, staring deeply into their mugs. As he walked, the weaponry strapped across his body jangled slightly. By the time he reached the bar, the girl had finished her work and was leaning her elbows on the counter, resting her delicate chin on the back of her hands. Marlon stepped up and joined her with one hand on the same surface, allowing his pinky to brush slightly against her arm.
The barmaid looked at him intently, with eyes bluer than any he'd seen before. A lock of brunette hair drifted lazily into her gaze, but before Marlon could make a move to adjust it, the woman stood straight and tucked it behind her ear.
"We've got a storage room just back here," she motioned with her head behind her. "Good for cloaks, hats, boots, weapons, and anything else you need to remove." She arched one dark eyebrow at him.
Marlon smiled charmingly. It was a smile he practiced almost daily in the mirror, and he knew it was a smile that simultaneously soothed and excited in just the ways he wanted. "Oh yeah?" he asked nonchalantly. "And about how big is that storage room back there?"
He pretended to look past the girl, and when she turned her head to follow his line of sight, he stole a glance down her tight-laced bodice, desperate to see any part of her small tits. When the woman turned back, Marlon quickly averted his gaze, but he knew that he'd been caught. That was, after all, part of the plan.
The woman arched her eyebrow again, looking closely at Marlon's face. He offered her a sheepish smile and shrugged his shoulders. "I've got a lot of equipment," he offered as explanation to his earlier query. "Sometimes it's more than women can handle."
"Women?" the girl asked with a suppressed chuckle.
"Yes," Marlon said confidently, leaning down further on the bar, reaching his hands over the edge to reach out and clutch hers softly. The woman let him rub a coarse thumb over the back of her knuckles. "Though I know how to control myself when it seems too much."
The girl licked her thin lips slowly and leaned across the bar as well until her face was a mere breath from Marlon's. "The storage is pretty cramped," she said in nearly a whisper, "but my room upstairs has plenty of space. Let's get that cloak off you first."
With that, the woman released Marlon's hands and stepped to the side to raise a portion of the bartop and let Marlon behind the counter. Marlon gladly followed the girl as she stepped to the back room, swaying her hips as she walked. It wasn't as practiced and elegant as the whores he'd fucked back home. She had a great, plump ass--visible even beneath her ruffled dress--and if she only had a little more practice she could make a killing with it. Still, there was something innocent about the way she tried, and Marlon was more than happy to stand behind her as she opened up the closet. He even pressed up against her slightly and was rewarded with a small gasp from the young woman.
She wasn't wrong that the storage room was cramped. Other residents at this inn had taken up most of the space with their belongings and all that remained was a single shelf and a bit of wooden wall before them. Even the floor was covered with cloaks and boots and daggers of varying sizes.
Turning around, the woman quickly grabbed the clasp of Marlon's purple cloak. With nimble fingers, calloused from years of working the tavern, she unhooked the fabric from around his neck. Marlon turned slightly to allow her to pull it off him.
The girl yelped in surprise as she revealed the two longswords and a crossbow that had been hidden beneath. Marlon laughed as he turned back around to see her wide eyed. It was cute, the way she trembled slightly as she realized that the man she'd unwittingly invited up to her room might not be completely safe.
"Don't be alarmed," Marlon said slowly as he unslung his arsenal. "I mostly use this stuff for show. People pay more for a champion who mixes things up."
He laid the weapons across the cloak that the woman now held in her arms. Reaching down, he unclasped a dagger from each boot and added them to the pile.
"Champion?" The girl asked. She had stopped trembling--save for her arms as she took his heavy load--as she realized that he truly meant her no harm.
"Yeah," Marlon said, leaning against the doorframe. Now that all the bulky equipment had been stripped off him, he made an impressive silhouette with his muscular torso beneath a rough-spun shirt. "I've won more prize fights than anyone else in Melville. But more importantly," he dropped his voice low, "I know how to mix things up."
Suddenly, Marlon pushed the girl gently into the closet, causing her to back up at the same time that she cried out in alarm. In a swift motion, Marlon shut the door behind them, leaving the pair in almost complete darkness.
For a moment, Marlon just listened to the girl's ragged breathing until it returned to its usual rhythm. "You can just drop my equipment anywhere," he said softly while reaching forward and feeling for her face.
He heard the sound of all his weapons clatter, muted slightly against his cloak as they fell. With one hand feeling the curve of the woman's face, he reached out the other and placed it on her waist. The girl stood still, her arms hanging limp.
"What are you going to do to me?" She whispered without a hint of fear.
Stepping forward, Marlon placed his mouth just beside her ear and felt the tickle of her hair on his nose. "I think I'll do whatever I damn well please."
He felt the woman's head turn slightly and she nibbled softly at the tip of his thumb. Marlon brushed it over her lips and allowed her to suck on it just a little.
"What do you have on under that dress?" He asked, his voice husky.
