The Arkenshards
The young noble woman Livia Prosarius is taken captive by enemy forces to prevent an alliance. Her captor Darius has great plans and betrays all in his path, taking her on a long and harrowing journey. The story follows Livia's and Darius' journey to a new continent called "The Arkenshards". Livia suffers through the loss of her previous life and the fall from noble woman to a slave and little more than property.
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Chapter 1 - The Young Mistress
Darius sits high atop his horse. The sound of hooves behind him is dampened by the wet forest path, as his fellow soldiers come up to the ridge. He pushes himself up in the stirrups and peers down into the valley.
"Anything?", asks one of his men.
"Yes. The Villa is up ahead. Doesn't look like they are expecting a visit."
Gruff laughter rings out behind him. His men are weary and the horses tired. They rode hard to get here, after the main body of the army had found and killed the Dasanian scouts. They knew Livia Prosarius lived here, but they did not know she was home. Not until they had found those scouts. They had carried a message, urging them to fetch the young bride once they had determined the position of the enemy forces, and ensure that she be brought safely back. Shame. Without that marriage between young Livia and the Lord Reagent of Galdland, the Dasanians would not last the winter. No Livia, no alliance. No alliances, no armies.
"Just a fee guards. We go in as discussed. If we can avoid a fight, we avoid it. If anyone sniffs us out for who we are in these Dasanian rags, we turn it violent. Be quick, no mercy. Keep the nobles alive, kill the rest."
Chuckles behind him made him turn.
"I am not joking. Any of you instigate a fight without cause, I will cut you down myself. We have orders and violence is only to be used if resistance is met. They lay down their arms or do not resist, we tie ‘em down and leave them. We will have enough of a head start to deliver the cargo to the general. And then you all get your reward, eh?"
Cheers went up within his soldiers ranks. They had fought a long campaign, all of them. Ten years of service the newest in their ranks. Twenty more to go for most. Taking these special missions had its perks. On success, you got triple pay, double rations, and your pick of the whores. Gods knew these unwashed brutes could use a good lay. They were getting unruly.
"No one touches the women. Least of all the Lady of the house, understood? "
Grumbling again, but none would disobey orders. The rewards were good and penalty for failure was death. This was not their first abduction, and it would not be the last. Young Livia would try and save her household and cooperate. These noble women always tried to martyr themselves for the smallfolk. Silly whores, the lot of them. Later in the camps they always broke and cursed the gods, the fates, and their own choices.
"Only I speak. Everyone else looked friendly but nervous. We just saw the whole fucking Tranian army, remember? We are scared shitless, and we are in a hurry. Now let's get down there."
It wasn't a long ride, and his men did as they were told. They spread out, forming a protective perimeter, looking away from the few household guards that came to greet them. Using the uniforms of the fallen enemy scouts, they easily passed for Dasanians. Darius had a light accent, but it would not be too obvious to most people.
"Hail, I am Johnus Parius Esaltus, sergeant of the fifteenth scout regiment under general Jusillus. We were dispatched to fetch the Lady of the house and bring here safely to be wed and end the menace at our borders."
The guard on duty was young, likely some under officer in training. He stepped up and gave a salutes the other three men looking relaxed and unconcerned.
"Hail, Johnus Parius Esaltus. I am commander Litus Gaskarnikus, head of the household guard to Lady Livia. The Lady is indisposed and cannot travel on such short notice."
Fuck. Did the pup sniff out his enemy, or was he simply one for proper procedure, trying to earn his stripes?
"Let them pass, Litus. They have come a long way and are clearly travel weary."
Out of the doorway strode a young woman, with no more than twenty summers. Her guard turned to her, raising an objection.
"But my lady, protocol dictates..."
"Protocol does not win over the rules of hospitality, Litus. These men are our guests. Be sure to take care of the horses and feed the men in the Barracks. Give them plenty to drink and some wine. They must be thirsty."
Darius praised the gods that none of his men made a stupid comment on that last bit. Lady Livia was a pretty thing. Soft, smooth skin, a firm and perky figure with nice legs and curves to match. But she was naive. Her guard might have figured them out, had she not stopped him in his tracks. And speaking of thirst, while being a young woman among such unrefined company, would not be a good idea, even if they weren't wolves in disguise.
The other two guards got to it and helped his men put away the horses. They were genial enough and mingled with the men, keeping their gruff demeanors, and speaking little as men just returned from the horrors of war would. Livia extended a hand towards Darius.
"Come, captain. You shall dine with me. I so long to hear news and know what is happening. Is my betrothed still safe? How far will we have to ride to reach him? How goes the war? I pray we are winning?"
Darius smiles, bowing slightly and offering the little lady his arm. What a prattling fool. She hooks her own arm into his without hesitation or fear. The young guard, Litus, looks on with some disdain and worry but holds his tongue. Well trained little pup this one is. Shame it will cost him his life. Even through his padded armor and garb Darius can feel the lithe body of the young lady nestled up against his own. The heat of youth radiates into him and stirs unsavory thoughts.
"I shall give you all the news we can, once my throat is", he pauses, looking her over, "wet." His eyes do not longer, but the silken robes the lady is wearing in the fashion of Dasanian nobility is giving him a good few of her ample breasts as they heave with every breath against the thin fabric. His cock gave a twitch at the thought of ripping the cloth off the little lady and seeing what else she might be hiding. But not just yet. There were some questions that needed answering first.
"Yes of course, captain. You shall have plenty to drink and your fill of food and any other creature comforts you may desire. Tonight, your bed will be soft and warm, rather than rough and humble."
She smiles at him with a full set of teeth, all well in order. Her lovely neck stretched upwards a bit, as she looked to him. The full and supple lips pulled into an enchanting smile. She would be even prettier with tears of pain on her beautiful face.
"I appreciate the efforts, Mistress. However, we may not linger long. The enemy is on our heels, and it is imperative we bring you to safety. We must ride before nightfall, or risk having you fall into the wrong hands.", 'meaning any but mine', he thought.
"Oh, did you not see? There is a storm coming. The roads might get washed away; it is far too dangerous to ride in such conditions."
Fuck. That would be a problem. Riding at night was dangerous enough. Easy to have a horse lose its footing, break a leg on a root or some other misery. In a storm? This was not going to go well.
"Are you certain, Mistress? We spotted no clouds."
"Yes, captain. The mountains hide the clouds well, but by night they will pour in, having pushed over the barriers surrounding the valley. It has been raining beyond them for a fortnight. We might have to wait it out for a few days even. But I am glad for your company, we have not had any news in such a long time. I hope you stay, be my guest and tell me all about your time in the army! You must have seen so much."
She does not shut up, does she? Well, I will endure it. She will be singing a different song soon enough. Leading him into the dining room, he lets go of her arm and follows her, but not before inspecting her rear, as she sways her hips. A vastly different song indeed.
As she sits thunder rolls in the distance. A deep, gruff rumbling. Darius smiles. Fortunate. Once the storm hits, disposing of the household guards and taking over the estate will be child’s play. The thunder will drown out any screams or sounds of fighting. Even better, it will make his own mission that much easier.
He takes off his sword belt and hangs it on the side of the chair. Darius sits opposite the woman. He places his dagger on the table, still sheathed in the simple leather scabbard. Not a threat. Not just yet.
Livia prattles on and on about the many things she has heard she might see once she finally reaches the big city and the estates of her fiancé. She gushes over the tales of bravery from the soldiery. Darius nods along, a polite smile on his lips. An officer and a gentleman. That is all she needs to see for now.
The rain starts to pick up and the clashing clouds come ever closer. Lightning flashes and brightens the lavishly decorated room through the atrium opening. Night is falling quicker with the storm clouds drowning out the sun hours before its time. The gods are good. Darius notices young Livia flinch with every crack of thunder. Her young flesh sways and jiggles with the motion. Such an alluring movement. His men did not know the exact orders they were given. Livia could die, if Darius brought proof. There was no reason to keep her safe or her virtue intact. The reward would be cut, but what difference would a few more coins make? He was looking at another decade caked in mud and blood. What good was coin when the killing started? He would rather take his pleasure now, before the gods take him into their hallowed halls. And pleasure, he would have with this naive little dolt.
"Does it often rain where you are from, captain?"
"Hm?", Darius was lost in thought, "No, I cannot say it does. I must say, I quite like it. It makes our work harder, but at least no one has to die of thirst."
She raises an eyebrow. Shit. He was not paying attention. He had been fantasizing too much about ripping that gown off her young body and having a go at her tits. Did she notice?
"You've been to Je'kyr? You are not quite who you say you are, aren't you, captain?"
Shit. Holding her curious gaze, he reaches for the dagger. Slowly. No time for mistakes now.
"Forward scouts, Misstress. We often ride deep into enemy territory. We take on their guises and even live among them for a time. A peasant in good spirits is likely to give away the enemies position much better than crawling through the dirt will."
Her eyes widen. Shit.
"That's incredible! I did not know anyone ever made it out of Je'kyr alive!? I heard they were barbaric savages who would eat meat raw and behead anyone who entered their lands! You are ever so brave, Captain Esaltus, you must tell me all you have seen!"
Thank the gods for sheltered and innocent women.
"My lady, these topics are not proper conversation for an elevated house such as yours. If you excuse me, I will see to my men and then retire for the night."
Darius gets up. Slowly. Very slowly. She has ample time to do what he needs her to do. Bridge the gap. Do it, you silly little cunt. And there it is. She wants to hear more, does not want to be alone during the storm. She reaches out and touches his wrist.
"Please, Sir. Do not let me die of curiosity! You must tell me all!"
With his left hand, he picks up the dagger and considers her for a moment. Make her think you must weigh your options. Hem and haw. The more she wants you to stay here, the closer she will let you get. The smaller the gap, the easier the taking. She looks at him, eyes wide and round. Breasts heaving with hurried breaths. Another clap of thunder. She nearly jumps out of her seat. Now. He reaches towards her, pulling her out of the chair and towards him. Gentle, no rush. As if in reflex, she pushes against him, seeking shelter from the storm raging outside. Darius can hear the muffled shouts and sounds of fighting within the estate. The girl would not know what to listen for. Her smell is intoxicating. Some perfume these ladies love to wear. But above all her scent. The scent of fear mixed with anxiety and youthful arousal. Stoic men always make them wet.
"Do not be afraid of the storm, my lady."
A smile as she looks up at him. The look of surprise as the tip of the cold dagger presses against her soft skin.
"The storm is the least of your worries."