Huntsman I: Princess (2 page)

A silence fell between the hardened men as another serving girl brought a plate of dark meat, bread and potato for the
Huntsman, earning a thankful nod that made the pretty thing’s ears twitch as she smiled, bowing her head and quickly taking her leave.

Elsewhere in the
hall, a less quick-footed elf was earning a sort of induction, something all went through to understand that going unseen and being quick about their service was as much for their own good. Up off her feet, the girl laid over a man’s lap in a secluded corner booth with her hair balled in a sturdy fist and her uniform hiked up around her waist.

His other hand was full of her plump
, ebony rear, kneading the squirming cheeks before letting go to deliver a firm swing of a smack that made the girl lurch over his lap and squeal as the table burst into raucous laughter. The girls legs curled up as she squirmed and whined, earning another hard smack to the other cheek, making her legs bolt out stiffly before dropping limp.

From deeper into the alcove couch of a table, another man who’
d already secured a serving girl to bounce in his lap lowered her down to face the new girl who’d stared a little too long at her companion’s act of service. With both heads lowered, they were encouraged to kiss and twine their hanging tongues for the men’s entertainment, locking lips and slurping messily on one another’s moans as cock and hand thrust them into one another encouragingly.

“Madness, I’d say.” Mikhael grunted, turning back to his food from the illicit corner.
Another firm crack of a spank sounded across the room, followed quickly by a quivering wail of a moan. The Knight-Commander chuckled and waved a hand dismissively.

“Fight hard and play harder,
eh? Aside, truth but many of the girls seek occupation exactly for that reason.” He offered, gesturing over to the girl laying limp in the man’s lap with his hand roughly fingering her glistening sex while she locked lips with her sister in service.

“Truth, t
hey enjoy such humiliation?” The Huntsman asked, a tone of perplexity about his voice as he looked back to his companion with a raised brow. The man’s tone was perfectly calm and serious in response, smiling and glancing to a passing maid.

“Truth. As I hear it their men are as frail as they, and
ah… not so endowed, shall we say. Now, that is only what I have heard! Straight from the drooling mouth of a girl who could barely form coherent words, true, but you know what they say.” He explained, a wicked grin about his angular face that said he was done with the serious tone. Mikhael would play along as he always did, but prepared for the worst of jokes.

“
Well, what do they say?”

“I
n mead, clarity. In battle, peace.” He intoned, striking his chest. Mikhael knew the mantra as well as any and simply nodded. “In sex, truth.” He finished, a perfectly steady and believing tone. The Huntsman blustered a quick snort of a laugh and drowned the thought in mead from his mug.

“I
was inclined to believe the girl’s flattering depiction of my talent and size, if I do say so. Having spoken to other maids since, it holds true enough that she was being honest. Some are even half-blooded kin sired by our fathers that would rip their own men apart. So there you have it. It’s only encouraged among officers, all the same. The lower ranks, well, there aren’t enough of elven kind in the land to satisfy whole garrisons.” The Knight-Commander explained, weighing up both hands and laughing at the thought.

Truly, if such a thing happened
outside of the Officer halls, the serving girls would become little more than fleshy objects passed around amongst a crowd for entertainment and pleasure and never have time to tend their work. Catching the attentions of an officer was one thing, one that may even result in strong children and security as the officer’s favoured pet. Being smothered and buried under a seemingly endless procession of soldiers to serve was entirely another.

“Pah, perhaps.
She does look to be enjoying her ‘capturing’, I’ll admit.” Mikhael gave, glancing back to the girl now sat upright in the man’s arms with one of her own around his neck for support. With the elf’s breasts exposed, her pitch-black nipples twisted and stretched between his rough and bold fingers. While the bloom of her serving dress hid most of the detail, it was clear enough her lowered hand was working more of that ‘service’ in his trousers. The elder serving woman watched intently, cuddled and cradled in the other man’s lap deeper into the alcove. It almost seemed as much they were all training the new girl as an induction.

“Well, honour to them. Might as I may favour the relief,
I’ve no mind to seek the maidservants for it.” Mikhael replied. Done with the meal and mead, he had business to be attending, and gathered his fur cloak up from aside him.

“Oh, sights set a little higher
, eh? Perhaps to seek Her Majesty’s hand, eh?” The Knight-Commander joked, making Mikhael pause in his leaving to glace at the old friend and shake his head.

“Honestly, Her Majesty was
akin to our mothers in the day. She ages well but I am no fool to seek that.” He retorted, slinging the layer around his shoulders tugging it in close to latch the collar into place and billow out the sides so it sat properly before taking his leave.

Not three steps after turnin
g, a figure bumped into his side on unsteady legs. A quick arm stopped her falling and losing her tray, holding the long-eared serving girl up against him. He could feel her tense in his grasp, quivering slightly with expectation. Had she intentionally done such a thing to make herself known? No, the glisten in her eyes was genuine enough as he straightened her and cupped her cheek to bring her timid gaze up.

“
Easy, now, head high. You do good work, so steady your legs.” His words came in a deep, low tone that she could hear perfectly well over the clamour around them. It seemed to reverberate through her body with that depth, but ten paces distant, the sound would have struck silent.

Mikhael patted the girl’s cheek gently and stepped aside to give her space before passing, leaving the bewildered
maid to stare after his heavy shadow. The Knight-Commander, Ranvald Berntsen snickered from his table, sloshing the shallow remnant of his mead in the bottom of its mug as he waved the girl over.

‘
Charm the girls like that and they won’t care if you don’t make the first move, Huntsman.’
Ranvald thought to himself, nodding to the girl as she took the tall mug away. ‘
There’s always the princess to set your sight on.’
his thought continued, trailing off to nothings.

Back
outside, the sky was darkening to twilight already. People ran around lighting torches and applying globe lights to keep the streets laminated through darkfall. The beasts and procession that followed them had long since passed, and people went about their business as normal. Snow was beginning to fall again, as if the stars above would not permit clouds to cover them, and instead shot through the clouds. It paved the streets with a new layer of white and put a hypnotic shimmer in the air.

As beautiful as it was, Mikhael had business elsewhere, and simply trudged through the bustling streets, out of the city.
Gate guards and watchtowers gave him passage with well wishes as he went – his persona was unmistakable to any but the newest of recruits, and for those he bore the royal seal, etched into his left forearm. One of Her Majesty’s most trusted.

“Fair night, my lord! Returning to the wilds so soon?” A jovial sort for a guard asked at the outer gate as it was clanked
open. Mikhael frowned and nodded a touch, waiting patiently. He’d never quite accepted the titles and brow-knuckling of proud men to him.

“Aye, the hunt took some time
, stability of the men’s lives was more important than continuing the route further out. Even then we cut close but I’ve several traps unchecked and don’t do well to sleep within the city every night.” Mikhael explained, shrugging the heavy mantle and waiting.

“Aye, well take care out there. With the Blackguard quelled, the wolves are out.”
The guard explained, leaving the Huntsman to grit his teeth and bite his tongue behind a smoothed out twist of a smile.

“Fair night, gatekeeper.” The Huntsman offered, and
was gone into the wilderness beyond. Not ten minutes out, on the verge of the snowy forest, the first of wolves howled into the night. Whether in greeting, warning, to thank for removing the Blackguards or of no relevance to his presence, Mikhael could not say. He was here to survey traps, tracks and return to his lodging within the woods. The mountain wilds would not be bothered by his presence.

Traipsing
into the sheer darkness of the canopied forest, Mikhael slowed to give his eyes time to adjust to the lack of light so that he might see the world around him as it was. The forest was a vast thing, but he knew where the few traps he had set around his lodging were, and did not need to check on the few others tonight. Checking for tracks informed the Huntsman of traffic and species within the wild, like reading a visitor log for an inn. Among the standard pads of beasts were another, interesting set of footprints walking away from the city – human tracks.

The treads were slightly smaller, thinner, but with a decent gait to the steps.
They looked to be a woman by size, alone, and in a rush by the spacing. That Mikhael’s own walking stride would cover more distance between steps reinforced the concept that the steps were fast, almost jogging with a smaller frame than the average for men.

Blackguards quelled or not, to be alone in
the night was to welcome danger. The Huntsman’s pace matched and overtook those steps, fresh enough to be within the time since darkfall began, when the skies dimmed and the streets bustled. A good time to move unnoticed. The footsteps lead him in the direction of his home within the wilds. As was to be expected, the traps along the way were clear of beasts. Little dared the woods when Blackguards roamed, and the beasts were loud enough to make their presence known for miles around.

That
was to say, all traps but one was vacant. Entering a larger clearing, Mikhael raised a brow to the sight that greeted him and could not help but laugh, making his breath wisp and cloud up in front of his face. A hooded figure was trapped in one of his stronger binding traps, designed to trap and raise large animals, strong enough to keep them from twisting around, biting and swiping the tough leather. It almost looked like a comfortable hammock of straps, if not for how the figure squirmed and tugged at the awkward twist that saw feet higher than the hood.

H
ands lay locked together by the wrist above the head, legs splayed out far to the side above, leaving the poor figure face-down in a tangled mess. From the captive’s size, the path leading into the clearing and the distinctively feminine grunts, he had been tracking this woman. What made it all the more interesting was she didn't seem to have much on underneath the snuggly tangled fur cloak, showing off a leg of bare skin above heavy tracking boots that matched the trail to a bare thigh.

“Well well, what do we have here?”
Mikhael asked, rounding on the trapped woman with his amusement clear. Whining and squirming in the strong leather trap, the captive woman growled and bit her lip, not daring to face him. Obviously, a young human female wasn't any match for the Royal Huntsman's traps, but to have his voice filling the cold night air made her cheeks heat under the furry hood.

“You know fine we
ll, Mikhael…” The captive woman explained, her tone sharp and near as cold as the air. Giving a deep, rich laugh from aside her, Mikhael closed in behind the captive to rest a hand on her shoulders, squeezing and sizing up the fur-cloaked figure as he hummed deep in his throat. She was just as the tracks defined her. Smaller frame, nimble but firm with just enough muscle in the figure to keep the pace comfortably. She didn’t have nearly enough strength to struggle out of his trap, however.

“
Truth, do I, now? A wily beast with a wicked tongue, it seems. I can't imagine anything else being out here in these hours, certainly not looking like this.” He spoke, softly with a curious tone. Running his hand up her back, through the various bindings and leather holstering her in the air, he could feel the care and quality in her cloak. The fur bristled with beauty and pride the way the stiffened back beneath it did, the owner struggling and grouching at him.

“If you don’t get me down, I’ll
show
you wicked!” She blustered, the ice in her tone melting under his hand to give way to breathy steam as she struggled and whined quietly. Moving behind his captive, Mikhael only smiled quietly at the flash of skin left on show. The Huntsman could not help but run a broad hand down the exposed thigh, stroking from knee to her inner thigh before slowing. Much deeper and he would slip under the cloak to where he doubted she had any undergarment on.

“
Mmngh, this instant! Stop touching and get me down!” The woman demanded, doing her best to squirm and try to kick at the tall man behind her, though her foot never moved more than a couple of inches. Stuck helplessly under his perusal, her temper was growing as hot as her cheeks behind the cowl. She would
not
let him make sport of her over this! She would not get aroused!