Private Tales Many Forms of Thirst

[Gerra]

“At my father’s order and beneath the threat of exile for my many failures, I led a black armored legion of Molthal to besiege the free city of Belgrath.”

Fire burned in his eyes, like roused coals, as his words conjured up memories of thousands of Blight Orcs on the march, their songs to keep time filling his ears. Dust swirled up from their passage, occluding the air, but from within came the glitter of hedges of their mass produced spears glinting beneath the diffused rays of the sun.

“I laid waste to their outer defenses and my legion slaughtered the dwarves and mercenaries there. Many escaped into the tunnels that lead to the city. We pursued and in those confines our numbers turned against us.”

Columns of burning jelly spewing from the mouths of dwarven cheirosiphons, enveloping whole files of orcs and burning them alive.

“I was defeated. My legion lost. I could not go back to my father. He would nail me to the walls as an example. So, I fled here. To start anew.”

 

[Kailyn]

Kailyn shivered, knowing the caliber of man that Gerra described as his father. She wondered, if in his position she would've chosen a different path. Run away sooner? Refused and taken the consequences even of death?

It would be lofty of her to think that.

Lips pressed together into a thin line. Her thumb stopped stroking the back of his hand. She stood carefully, keeping a hand on his shoulder for balance as the elephant moved beneath them with its lumbering steps. The brighter colors of a sunset flecked the sky above them. She idly wondered where they would stop to make camp or if they'd keep riding through the night.

As she stood, she was perhaps a hair above his head. Facing him, she gently wrapped her arms around his massive frame, bringing his head into her shoulder, against her chest. It was a simple embrace.

She wondered if anyone had ever given the fire giant a simple a hug before.

Kailyn determined in this moment words wouldn't do. She wanted him to know that she was thankful that he shared a part of his story. That she wasn't judging him. That she shared in his grief. And that she was there - a confidant if he needed it.

 

[Gerra]

Gerra stiffened as she hugged him, unused to such a simple display of affection. But, slowly, he relaxed in her arms. The wounds she sought to heal were old and though she might provide some measure of comfort, Gerra knew the pain would still creep back, an old and familiar ache that troubled his dreams.

He gently patted her on the head.

“Do not trouble yourself on it. We all have our demons to bear. And look, there’s the castle now on the horizon.”

Atop an artificially steep hill sat a motte and bailey, the stone tower of the keep jutting up against the skyline.

 

[Kailyn]

Kailyn held onto him a moment longer. Sometimes, an extra squeeze went a long ways. Even for an emperor. She released him slowly as if she was worried about the mighty half-giant falling apart.

A silly notion. Then again. Perhaps not so silly at all.

She took care to sit down. Amber eyes lit with interest. If it wasn’t for the surrounding hills, it reminded her of a darker place. Cerak At’Thul. She frowned.

“How long do you expect these negotiations to last?” She was curious how amenable this Duke was. Their elephant slowed as they came to the top of the hill and the entrance.

 

[Gerra]

"To be honest, I am not sure. The Baron Herriman has a reputation as a pleasant man. Fairly reasonable. We will see how the negotiations proceed."

The elephant had slowed to a stop and now came the precarious process of dismounting Kuju. Gerra picked up the rope ladder coiled in the side of the carpet they sat on and tossed it down, then he went first, retreating hand over hand until he at last found his feet on solid ground. He looked up at Kailyn, smiling.

"Jump. I'll catch you."

 

[Kailyn]

Head peaked over the side of the elephant.

"Easy for you to say. A jump for you at this height would just be two of your body lengths." There was a small curve of her lips at the corners. "I'll try climbing lest my muscles become jelly from lack of use. But I trust you to catch me if I slip."

Turning, she carefully slid over the edge of Kuju-poops-a-lot, fingers gripping the rope. For a moment her feet didn't find purchase. Lips thinned and then her toes caught the edge of the rope. She began making her way down, one rung at a time. She paused when she was head-to-head with the Emperor.

"See? I could still sprain my ankle if I fell from this height and this is your view all the time."

And in that moment, Kuju shifted and Kailyn found herself swinging precariously to the side.

 

[Gerra]

A soft chuckle escaped the half-giant. Gently, Gerra plucked Kailyn off the swinging rope ladder before she had a chance to fall. He doubted the fall would seriously injure her, but any injury to her seemed too much. He would not abide it.

"Hmm, your muscles hardly seem like jelly," his hold on her shifted.

The emperor's eyes settled on her honey-hued gaze. He held onto her for a moment more than was necessary, then set her down.

"And yet I am the one who must have my chairs custom made. I cannot ride a horse. And I must stoop whenever I enter a building. So, the height is of small benefit."

 

[Kailyn]

His touch was always warm and it still surprised her. His hold was gentle for a being so large. Before she could get lost in his molten gaze her feet were back on solid ground. She pushed thoughts of his hands along her torso from her mind.

"You're the Emperor. I'm sure with a single command you could change the doorway heights in all the land." A twitch of her lips and a sideways glance at the half-giant. "You seem like a man who is used to getting what he wants."

The servants bustled around them, collecting their bags as the Baron came out to meet them with a dip of his head and a shallow bow.

 

[Gerra]

"Perhaps," he mused, eyes focused on the approaching entourage. "You would be amazed how far kind words and gracious gifts go when they come from an Emperor."

The Baron approached and inclined his head in respect. He was a middle-aged man, with brown hair that was both graying and fading into wisps at the peaks. Though crows feet marked the corners of his eyes, they still brimmed with vitality.

"Baron Herriman," Gerra rumbled, towering over the man not in the way of a tavern brute, intent on posturing, but in the way a mountain loomed. He simply existed, as a mountain existed, making those at its base feel small.

"Welcome to Castle Cregsbend, your grace. I am honored by your visit."

"You honor us with your hospitality. This is my advisor on matters of trade, Kailyn." He gestured to her.

"Welcome, Lady Kailyn. Please come in, er-" he looked past them at the elephant. "That may have to wait in the stables on the outskirts. I do not think the drawbridge could hold its weight." He chuckled in the way a man chuckles at a vicious dog barking at him from behind a fence, immensely grateful for the fence. "Shall we then?"

"Lead on."

They walked and talked, Gerra's entourage following behind in a train of camels laden with gifts for the Baron. In a short while, their animals had been stabled and they led up into the central keep until they reached the dining hall. As it was within the keep, the floors, walls, and the ceiling were all fashioned from stone. Braziers burned in the corners.

Gerra took a seat at the table and they were joined by Herriman's wife and two children, a boy and a girl who must have been no more than twelve. Moments later, food was brought out and wine poured and the welcome feast began.

 

[Kailyn]

Kailyn had a way with people. She always had. Perhaps it's what kept her from the hard labor most slaves were accustomed to. Kept her around the family and indoors. Keeping the books and tending the family affairs. Kept her from the pits and the mines.

The Baron and the family were enchanted with the young woman. The children were already wondering when she'd come back for a visit. Trade talks came as easily as a knife sliding through warm butter. And it seemed as if the Baron negotiated for a deal that would benefit the Empire over himself. The children were put to bed and eventually the Baron excused himself. A servant came by and showed the pair to their suites. They were large, multi-roomed with huge windows that opened to catch the night air of the desert, large four-poster beds, pillows along a separate sitting area with thick rugs of various colors and shapes draping along the floor. Silk, sheen curtains billowed from the ceilings as if giving the impression they were in a lavish tent.

Each room came with a separate bath laid with expensive-looking granite and marble in a creme and grey color. Next to the sitting area with the plush pillows was a table loaded with even more food. Grapes and fruits Kailyn had never seen before as well as wine and water. The adjoining door was open and Kailyn found herself sinking to the floor of pillows, glad to have a moment of respite. While she did her job well and being around people seemed to come naturally to the girl, it still took a lot out of her.

"How do you think it went," she called, reaching down to lace off her sandals.

 

[Gerra]

The half-giant drooped to the floor and stretched out among the pillows, looking like nothing so much as a reclining lion as he gave a leonine yawn.

“Well enough,” he rumbled, reaching out a hand to idly play with the laces of her sandals that wrapped around her ankle as she sought to undo them.

“The Baron is a gentle man. I think he will see reason enough to join the empire. Especially with the funding to expand his fortifications.”

Turning the motte and bailey into a proper stone walled castle would take a large sum and many laborers. Something the empire could offer in exchange for tribute and fealty.

Gerra frowned around the room, wondering where exactly the baron had found the coin for such lavishly furnished guest rooms in the keep.

A finger whispered up, along her smooth calf, gentle and wandering.

“Do you remember the day at the arena? You said you had something to tell me.”

 

[Kailyn]

Breath caught in her throat at the warmth of Gerra's fingers playing so idly along her skin. He could always be so casual. The power to kill many and start a nation lay in that hand. The same power to distract her from getting off a flipping sandal.

"Gerra," she chided gently, a small touch on his hand to still it.

"Must you make taking off a sandal so difficult?" Undoing the strap, she slipped the final shoe from her foot. She allowed herself to lean back, pillows supporting her tired form, after sitting so stiff and erect at the dinner table. Hair fanned across the fabric, as she was propped up just enough so she could see Gerra's face without straining her neck.

Golden eyes against a night sky.

And the arena?

She shifted uncomfortably.

"I just...," a puff of warm air left parted lips, eyes shifted to train on the billowy fabric of the ceiling. "Fighting for sport has never been my thing. Gerra, you have to understand where I came from and what fighting meant."

 

[Gerra]

He paused long enough to let her get the sandals off, then continued, the tracing becoming a kneading as his fingers massaged her skin all the way down to her toes.

It had been a long journey.

“Oh?”

He propped himself up on an elbow and stared into her amber eyes.

“I understand. I saw similar sights in Molthal. Cruel. Forced. But those in the arena… it’s different. They’re convicts sentenced to death, or those who choose to pay off their debts by fighting rather than working them off as a slave. Or those who simply seek to earn coin.”

A frown creased his brow and the fingers playing along her foot stopped for a moment.

“Bringing you there was thoughtless of me.”

 

[Kailyn]

"Did anyone ever tell you, you have a way with your hands?"

Kailyn definitely meant the comment innocently. No one had ever given her a massage of any kind before and she found herself understanding why so many nobles preferred to have slaves do it or paid to get them done at bath houses.

Ambers fluttered back to the emperor giant. "Convicts sentenced to death?" A frown tugged at her lips. "But what if they become victors? Can they overthrow a sentence of the law?"

 

[Gerra]

“Well, if they are victors, then the will of the gods has been made known, has it not?”

A touch of the sardonic in his tone. A note of mischief in his voice.

“And yes. They have. I worked with gold and silver in Molthal. I am used to handling delicate things. Despite appearances.”

He smiled, then tickled the sole of her foot.

 

[Kailyn]

"Well from your tone it sounds like you don't believe in the will of the gods like that," she pointed out quietly. She certainly didn't. "But what does that say about us that we enjoy watching other people's pain?" She wasn't putting herself above it. That wasn't her intention.

Her foot twitched as he hit a soft spot.

A soft bite on her lower lip. A furrow of her brow. Elbows propped herself up.

"You think I'm delicate?" There was a hint of indignation in her tone at the massive man.

 

[Gerra]

A snort.

“Compared to me? Nearly everyone is.”

The hand slid up, seized her ankle, and dragged her toward him with ease, til they rested side by side. Due to the size disparity, he loomed over her, even though he was only propped up by his elbow. Eyes the color of the sunset held her gaze and when he spoke, that fathomless voice carried only sincerity.

“I do not think you are weak, Kailyn. You are complex, like a clock whose gears are all of gold.”

 

[Kailyn]

"He-ey!" She smiled as he tugged her over, pillows parting as easily as water, hair tumbling behind her, caught up within the crevices and plateaus of the cushions.

"Careful or you'll start to think you're invincible," hand came up to lightly tap his chest. It was like brushing against rock beneath his clothing. "You sound so sure about me." Lighter ambers searched his own fires of ember.

"We only just met a few months ago." Had it been that long? Had it been that short? The soft smile never left her face. "What if I'm a monster? What if I run away with all your valuables?"

 

[Gerra]

"Then..." he looked thoughtful for a moment, "I suppose I would have to hunt you down."

He curled his fingers into a claw over her, as if he were a cat about to pounce, then let out a low, throaty chuckle that came from his stomach. Deep and rolling, like the ocean's waves. The large, calloused hand dropped to rest on her waist.

"Perhaps you are right. Perhaps I don't know you very well at all."

He traced a circle on the rise of her hip.

"Perhaps you're dangerous."

The fiery gaze tracked from her hair, spread out like streams of beaten gold, to the curve of her full lips beneath the pools of her honeyed stare.

"Are you?"

 

[Kailyn]

"Hunt me down?" Honeyed-eyes narrowed on the half-giant. "All across the land, hm?" Still, the half smile never left her face.

Was she dangerous?

She saw where his gaze drifted. Heart fluttered nervously in her chest. "Not in the way you're thinking," she finally answered, seriously, instead of the playful twist of words she used earlier. "Do you know how nervous I am? How you make me feel? I have to wonder how dangerous you are."

And she didn't mean in the physical sense. He'd be able to break her like she was nothing but a piece of pottery.

 

[Gerra]

“Do I frighten you? Are you afraid that if I grow... displeased with you, you might go back to being a slave?”

Gerra shook his head, expression on his obsidian-carved features sorrowful.

“That would never happen.”

He brushed a thumb against her cheek, pushing back a lock of golden hair behind her ear.

 

[Kailyn]

Lips pressed together. Face turned solemn. Hand reached up and gently entrapped his palm between her own and her cheek.

"No," she whispered. "Though, I'm glad to know you would not do that." Lighter eyes searched his own, quietly for a moment, letting the silence stretch between them as she weighed his tone. His sincerity.

"But...I don't know what I want. You are the leader of this side of the world, Gerra." Thumb brushed lightly over the back of his hand she still entrapped. "You have many wives, yes, even if only by political name. We're heading into dangerous waters. Think about the paths ahead and from my perspective. What if I wished to leave? What if I wished to travel the lands for a year or so? Would you be prepared to let me go?"

 

[Gerra]

A wan smile stretched across the emperor’s lips.

“You are your own person, Kailyn.”

A calloused thumb lightly stroked the softness of her cheek.

“You are not mine to keep.”

He did not fear such waters.

“If you wish to go, go. If you want to stay, stay.”

A caged bird does not sing.

He held her searching stare, letting the silence grow and the moment deepen. He felt as though he might fall into those liquid ponds of amber she called eyes and be trapped there, caught like an insect.

 

[Kailyn]

"That's reassuring."

She let his hand free.

She'd be lying if she said she wasn't attracted to him. She was. He was a fine looking man. His voice stoked a fire within her, his touch a smoldering thrill. His passion about his vision for Amol-Kalit a kindling. And if he treated her and the slaves she'd been with like all the slaves? It spoke volumes to his character.

But she knew men with passion had many needs to fulfill.

"I think we should be careful because I think you would break my heart," voice was quiet as she stilled beneath his touch.

 

[Gerra]

“And you could shatter mine,” he whispered, hoarse.

“You speak of caution, yet I would face a hundred men alone in battle just to have you look at me again the way you’re looking at me now.”

His fingers fled from her cheek, trailing down her arm until he found her hand and interlaced his fingers with hers. They felt so small beneath his. Delicate.

The way she was delicate, though she would not admit it. Like the glass flower he had given her. One wrong touch might shatter it to pieces. His heart lurched in his chest.

Slowly, hesitantly, he leaned down until their lips pressed against each other. Simple. Soft.