How Raqua Met Aldebran
The broken seam in the twin doors was the only source of light aside from the half moon in the stone antechamber. Shadows hung heavy on every one of the dozen Elven face in line. Even in the dim illumination Major Timilia Bouldercracker's hazel eyes glinted brightly. Her supple chest swelled and the tips of her long ears dipped as she sucked in a breath.
The long, ancient gash on her neck throbbed as she spoke, “You all know the importance of a sponsor for your futures. However, I will reiterate so each of you knows what is expected of you.”
A wooden baton appeared in the Major's hand like magic with a flick of her wrist. Every one of the Elven soldiers before her winced at the tool’s mere presence. All had been tasted its lash more than once. Letting her instrument of discipline run over the gray uniform of each soldier, she stomped down the line in silence.
Every one of the dozen watched the wall to avoid her gaze by virtue of the Major’s stature. On her return along the line she bellowed, “Becoming a unit Captain requires more than a quick sword arm. You must earn a sponsor from the Nobility that you will serve. You will wave their banner into battle and die for their glory.”
“Nobles cover the cost of a unit, and we pay with our unwavering loyalty. Am I understood?”
“Yes, Major!” Came the dozen's response.
Halting before a taller woman with a fuller figure, the Major looked up into her emerald eyes and sucked in a breath from between her teeth. Thumping the baton against the muscular woman in front of her she clarified, “Anyone who fails to acquire a sponsor by sunrise will have missed their chance. Some of you have family contacts, I suggest you use them tonight. Those without...”
Major Bouldercracker's eyes narrowed, “I suggest you bend over and offer whatever they want of you. You're whores for the Stone tonight! Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Major!”
“Good answer. You are dismissed until tomorrow,” the Major pushed her way through the line of soldiers, away from the light from the doors. Fading into the darkness, each soldier breathed a heady sigh of relief. Their commander gone, each and every one looked to each other with a soft grin.
They were nobles for a night! Food and Drink was provided and plentiful. The best Stonehearth had to offer!
The more anxious or self assured pushed the door open to bathe the chamber in light from inside. Long tables coated with food glistened under ample candlelight. Well dressed nobles spoke in tight knit circles, looking over the new supplicants. The soldiers began to line up to be introduced by the head servant.
Without moving in, the tall woman placed a hand to her chest. Her heart fluttered wildly. A heavy impact on her shoulder made her glare at a blonde male. His nearty layered hair shifted as he flashed her a perfect smile inquiring, “So Raqua, what kind are you looking for? Gonna tie some weak son around your finger or seduce some scandalous daughter?”
Raqua clicked her tongue in annoyance. Flashing him a furious gaze, her narrow nose flared for a moment. Raqua snorted and turned away before saying, “I don't care, Rockguard. So long as they cover the cost of my horses.”
“Horses? Why waste your time on a bunch of horses rather than save up to get yourself a Dragon?” Rockguard tilted his head in confusion. Folding his arms he asked, “I mean, you're a former Gransteed. Figured a Dragon would be on the top of your list.”
“If I spent the amount of time and money you'll waste on an egg, I'll be able to field a force of roughly seventy veteran horsemen and a surprising amount of secondaries.”
“Which couldn't hold a candle to a Dragon rider's power. Still, good luck horse lord.”
With a flourish, the would be Captain spun on a foot and entered the hall. He was announced, leaving Raqua as the final straggler. As she passed under the iron chandelier that was above the entrance the head servant called out, “Captain Candidate, Raqua Untiste Areckon!”
Her entrance was met with the briefest of glances. Whispers and private conversations were a dull thunderstorm made louder by the stone hall. Approaching the nearest circle of gaudily dressed Elven nobles, Raqua's presence was ignored. She spoke up twice but none registered her speech. So, she went and took some of the roasted boar before starting over.
Another group of nobles. Same result.
Time and again, Raqua could not even begin to ingratiate herself.
As time ticked by, several of her contemporaries vanished into private chambers.
Others, grew desperate.
One, an unfortunate man by the name of Leaffold, was stripped naked. The nobles then made a show of sodomizing and shaming him before leaving him in a corner, covered in filth. Not all of it his own.
Disgusted with the display, Raqua excused herself out a side doorway. Moonlight poured over statues in the private estate's garden. All of the statues were of soldiers. And all of their weapons were raised towards the Holy mountain Stonehearth that the Kingdom was named for.
A soft voice asked, “You already know, don't you?”
Raqua looked over her shoulder to see a man adorned in what looked to be a long gown. Raising an eyebrow at the man she stated, “The long reach of the Gransteed clan, I'm sure. My father's idea of punishment is for me to never rise above being a grunt. Either that or he's hoping it'll send me back home to be breeding stock, for the sick joke that is.”
“Yes, we were all told rather unflattering tales of Raqua Untiste Areckon beforehand. Special emphasis was placed on how you caused the death of your mother and became infertile in one act during your childhood,” the man admitted. His slender arms ended in delicate fingers. Both figures kept their gazes locked as they slowly edged towards a bench together.
“So, why seek me out? Are you looking to have me debase myself next for your amusement?”
“Do you desire children?”
“Not especially. I want a unit of my own.”
“So, you want big children.”
Raqua blinked and looked into the man's amber eyes. His chestnut colored hair was cropped into an androgynous bob. Raqua tittered softly bringing a hand to her lips. She admitted, “I've never thought of it that way. Then, yes. I want big children to ride beside me into battle against the Drow. I want to crush them beneath my stallion's hooves and scorch every inch of Drow land between here and Del Shira.”
“One would think a dragon would better suit those interests.”
“As if the Gransteed clan would ever accept me on one of their precious mounts. I'll do what they couldn't on horseback.”
The man applauded Raqua with a wide smile on his face. Her cheeks flushed at the open praise and her own naked ambitions being laid bare. She realized just how easily he had coaxed it out of her. Raqua asked, “What is your name?”
“Oh dear, we have skipped quite a few steps, haven't we?” The man rose and bowed. His self introduction was simple, “I'm the Witch of Stone for Steelforge village, Aldebran Furnace. If you'd like, I'd happily become your sponsor.”
Upon hearing his title, Raqua dropped to her knee. Planting her sight into the stone path beneath their feet, she noticed the simple, woven sandals he wore. Raqua stammered, “I-I would be unworthy of such patronage.”
Delicate fingers pulled Raqua's eyes up. Aldebran spoke from behind a smile, “Of course, my patronage will come with certain requirements on your end. I will use you in an experiment and when it's over, I want children from you. Some may not be fathered by me. Can you agree to those terms?”
“B-but, I am infertile.”
“Do you think that will be an issue for one such as me?”
“I would be honored. Though, if I may ask, why me?”
“Consider it love at first sight. I was told the stories, the same as everyone. Yet, I saw a woman so determined, she would fly in the face of all that is accepted. As you might expect from my dress, I am not particular to standard conventions.”
“It looks quite lovely on you.”
“Lets grab a pitcher of wine and go be less formal,” enticed Aldebran. Raqua stood up and stared mesmerized by the effeminate man. Seeing her cheeks flush red he asked, “Is there a problem?”
“Not at all. I've always despised formality,” Raqua hooked her arm into the Witch's. With a grin she added, “Just hope that weak body of yours can keep up with me.”
“I'm sure I'll manage just fine,” flirted Aldebran. True to their word, the pair secured a private pitcher and weren't seen till muster the next morning. Raqua's cheeks still reddened and her steps a bit uncertain. Yet, she was granted the station of Captain and was given a flag emblazoned with the image of an anvil.
The long, ancient gash on her neck throbbed as she spoke, “You all know the importance of a sponsor for your futures. However, I will reiterate so each of you knows what is expected of you.”
A wooden baton appeared in the Major's hand like magic with a flick of her wrist. Every one of the Elven soldiers before her winced at the tool’s mere presence. All had been tasted its lash more than once. Letting her instrument of discipline run over the gray uniform of each soldier, she stomped down the line in silence.
Every one of the dozen watched the wall to avoid her gaze by virtue of the Major’s stature. On her return along the line she bellowed, “Becoming a unit Captain requires more than a quick sword arm. You must earn a sponsor from the Nobility that you will serve. You will wave their banner into battle and die for their glory.”
“Nobles cover the cost of a unit, and we pay with our unwavering loyalty. Am I understood?”
“Yes, Major!” Came the dozen's response.
Halting before a taller woman with a fuller figure, the Major looked up into her emerald eyes and sucked in a breath from between her teeth. Thumping the baton against the muscular woman in front of her she clarified, “Anyone who fails to acquire a sponsor by sunrise will have missed their chance. Some of you have family contacts, I suggest you use them tonight. Those without...”
Major Bouldercracker's eyes narrowed, “I suggest you bend over and offer whatever they want of you. You're whores for the Stone tonight! Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Major!”
“Good answer. You are dismissed until tomorrow,” the Major pushed her way through the line of soldiers, away from the light from the doors. Fading into the darkness, each soldier breathed a heady sigh of relief. Their commander gone, each and every one looked to each other with a soft grin.
They were nobles for a night! Food and Drink was provided and plentiful. The best Stonehearth had to offer!
The more anxious or self assured pushed the door open to bathe the chamber in light from inside. Long tables coated with food glistened under ample candlelight. Well dressed nobles spoke in tight knit circles, looking over the new supplicants. The soldiers began to line up to be introduced by the head servant.
Without moving in, the tall woman placed a hand to her chest. Her heart fluttered wildly. A heavy impact on her shoulder made her glare at a blonde male. His nearty layered hair shifted as he flashed her a perfect smile inquiring, “So Raqua, what kind are you looking for? Gonna tie some weak son around your finger or seduce some scandalous daughter?”
Raqua clicked her tongue in annoyance. Flashing him a furious gaze, her narrow nose flared for a moment. Raqua snorted and turned away before saying, “I don't care, Rockguard. So long as they cover the cost of my horses.”
“Horses? Why waste your time on a bunch of horses rather than save up to get yourself a Dragon?” Rockguard tilted his head in confusion. Folding his arms he asked, “I mean, you're a former Gransteed. Figured a Dragon would be on the top of your list.”
“If I spent the amount of time and money you'll waste on an egg, I'll be able to field a force of roughly seventy veteran horsemen and a surprising amount of secondaries.”
“Which couldn't hold a candle to a Dragon rider's power. Still, good luck horse lord.”
With a flourish, the would be Captain spun on a foot and entered the hall. He was announced, leaving Raqua as the final straggler. As she passed under the iron chandelier that was above the entrance the head servant called out, “Captain Candidate, Raqua Untiste Areckon!”
Her entrance was met with the briefest of glances. Whispers and private conversations were a dull thunderstorm made louder by the stone hall. Approaching the nearest circle of gaudily dressed Elven nobles, Raqua's presence was ignored. She spoke up twice but none registered her speech. So, she went and took some of the roasted boar before starting over.
Another group of nobles. Same result.
Time and again, Raqua could not even begin to ingratiate herself.
As time ticked by, several of her contemporaries vanished into private chambers.
Others, grew desperate.
One, an unfortunate man by the name of Leaffold, was stripped naked. The nobles then made a show of sodomizing and shaming him before leaving him in a corner, covered in filth. Not all of it his own.
Disgusted with the display, Raqua excused herself out a side doorway. Moonlight poured over statues in the private estate's garden. All of the statues were of soldiers. And all of their weapons were raised towards the Holy mountain Stonehearth that the Kingdom was named for.
A soft voice asked, “You already know, don't you?”
Raqua looked over her shoulder to see a man adorned in what looked to be a long gown. Raising an eyebrow at the man she stated, “The long reach of the Gransteed clan, I'm sure. My father's idea of punishment is for me to never rise above being a grunt. Either that or he's hoping it'll send me back home to be breeding stock, for the sick joke that is.”
“Yes, we were all told rather unflattering tales of Raqua Untiste Areckon beforehand. Special emphasis was placed on how you caused the death of your mother and became infertile in one act during your childhood,” the man admitted. His slender arms ended in delicate fingers. Both figures kept their gazes locked as they slowly edged towards a bench together.
“So, why seek me out? Are you looking to have me debase myself next for your amusement?”
“Do you desire children?”
“Not especially. I want a unit of my own.”
“So, you want big children.”
Raqua blinked and looked into the man's amber eyes. His chestnut colored hair was cropped into an androgynous bob. Raqua tittered softly bringing a hand to her lips. She admitted, “I've never thought of it that way. Then, yes. I want big children to ride beside me into battle against the Drow. I want to crush them beneath my stallion's hooves and scorch every inch of Drow land between here and Del Shira.”
“One would think a dragon would better suit those interests.”
“As if the Gransteed clan would ever accept me on one of their precious mounts. I'll do what they couldn't on horseback.”
The man applauded Raqua with a wide smile on his face. Her cheeks flushed at the open praise and her own naked ambitions being laid bare. She realized just how easily he had coaxed it out of her. Raqua asked, “What is your name?”
“Oh dear, we have skipped quite a few steps, haven't we?” The man rose and bowed. His self introduction was simple, “I'm the Witch of Stone for Steelforge village, Aldebran Furnace. If you'd like, I'd happily become your sponsor.”
Upon hearing his title, Raqua dropped to her knee. Planting her sight into the stone path beneath their feet, she noticed the simple, woven sandals he wore. Raqua stammered, “I-I would be unworthy of such patronage.”
Delicate fingers pulled Raqua's eyes up. Aldebran spoke from behind a smile, “Of course, my patronage will come with certain requirements on your end. I will use you in an experiment and when it's over, I want children from you. Some may not be fathered by me. Can you agree to those terms?”
“B-but, I am infertile.”
“Do you think that will be an issue for one such as me?”
“I would be honored. Though, if I may ask, why me?”
“Consider it love at first sight. I was told the stories, the same as everyone. Yet, I saw a woman so determined, she would fly in the face of all that is accepted. As you might expect from my dress, I am not particular to standard conventions.”
“It looks quite lovely on you.”
“Lets grab a pitcher of wine and go be less formal,” enticed Aldebran. Raqua stood up and stared mesmerized by the effeminate man. Seeing her cheeks flush red he asked, “Is there a problem?”
“Not at all. I've always despised formality,” Raqua hooked her arm into the Witch's. With a grin she added, “Just hope that weak body of yours can keep up with me.”
“I'm sure I'll manage just fine,” flirted Aldebran. True to their word, the pair secured a private pitcher and weren't seen till muster the next morning. Raqua's cheeks still reddened and her steps a bit uncertain. Yet, she was granted the station of Captain and was given a flag emblazoned with the image of an anvil.