The Invisible Chains - Part 2: Bonds of Fear (41 page)

“Says Sir-my-dry-spell-is-now-becoming-so-whopping-gigantic-

that deserts-mock-me.”

With that he grabbed his mantle and with a last meaningful look

left the barrack. Arranulf waited till he pulled the door close behind

him and let out a long sigh of relief.

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Andrew Ashling

Lately his duties began to weigh upon him. Captain Chromidar

Strail looked around on the inner courtyard of Lorseth Castle. He was

forty six years old, which meant he had been in the army for eighteen

years, all of them in the garrison of the castle. There had been long

stretches of very quiet years, when almost nothing happened and

there were only a few of them to occupy the place. He smiled. He knew

it had been a smart move. He had all the prestige the uniform gave a

man and none of the danger. The pay was the same as for other units

in the Ximerionian armed forces. Amiratha had been quiet for over

hundred and forty years. Even now, with a warlike Lord Governor in

charge, he was safe. The prince would lead his army in the field, and

Chrom would guard the walls in his absence. The quiet, high, thick

and impenetrable walls. Yes, it
had
been a smart move.

Until his twenty eight year he had drifted around, surviving on

odd jobs, wandering from one run down village to another place

forsaken by the Gods. Until he came at Lorseth and decided to blow

all his money in The Cranky Goat. He must have been twenty five

or so. Then he met Vonnyda who worked in the establishment, and

suddenly he had a reason to stay and to work. Her services weren’t

cheap, but so worth it.

Remembering, he chuckled. Had he ever been that young? He

sucked in his belly. After a year of working as a field hand, a smith’s

help, and countless other little jobs, and carrying his pay to her as

soon as he had earned it, something began to blossom between

them. Later she said it was because he was so kind and gentle, not to

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321

forget clean, and because she wanted to make certain that he would

forever bring his pay to her. Also, she had said, she was nearing her

thirtieth birthday and she was becoming a little bit long in the tooth

to continue in this profession. That was the first and only time she

mentioned her age. She wanted to be honest with him, she had said.

Nonsense, he had replied, she had another ten years in her. Nonsense,

he thought, but didn’t tell her, he knew she was at least thirty two.

Why should he correct her? He didn’t care.

Once she had made it clear that she wanted to settle down with

him, they had begun planning their common future. Odd jobs wouldn’t

do anymore, so she talked with the captain of the garrison who she

knew professionally. Next month he signed up with the Ximerionian

army, Lorseth Garrison. She also insisted they should buy a little

house immediately. As a soldier he could get a loan against his future

pay at excellent conditions. They bought a rundown place in a quiet

corner between Lorseth Castle and Lorseth Market. Vonnyda had

seen to it that the structure of the house was sound. All the rest they

fixed themselves over the years. She also taught him to read and

write, as that was a prerequisite for promotion. She had been right.

He was a captain now. She herself kept working at The Cranky Goat,

as a waitress and a cook now, and during the day. They grew their

own vegetables and herbs, and kept chickens, rabbits and two goats.

It had been fun. All of it. All the more so when the boys came

around, with a year between them. The oldest was sixteen now and

would be of an age to enlist when Chrom retired in two years. If he

wanted, that was, because he was headstrong like his mother. Luckily

he also had her sound mind.

His colleagues laughed at the pages and liked to tease and

badger them. Not Chrom. They were young nobles, and one of these

youngsters could decide he liked the army. Within two years he could

be an officer. A higher officer with the long memory of a noble. Chrom

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called all the pages ‘young sir’ and, without being sycophantic, tried

to make their lives not more difficult than necessary.

Take that head page for instance, who was just now entering the

tower. The guy had a temper and always looked around gravely as

if the world would fall apart if he didn’t watch it constantly. But he

took his duties seriously. Chrom liked that in a man — or boy, for that

matter. He didn’t mind calling him ‘young sir.’

Then there were those like Fraydir of Yarda. He was on the chubby

side, and the guy bit his nails. Nervous as a young fox at a family

gathering of hounds and with a pimply face. Totally incompetent. He

didn’t mind calling him ‘young sir’ too.

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323

Fraydir of Yarda was on guard duty at the gate. Chrom decided to

go take a look.

“Ha, young sir, everything all right?” he asked cheerfully.

Fraydir startled.

“What? Oh, captain… Yes, yes. Everything is under control, I

think.”

“No reason to be nervous. Just remember, when we are on guard

duty at the gate, we are the first line of defense to keep the Lord

Governor safe. Well, when he’s here that is.”

This didn’t seem to put Fraydir’s mind at rest at all.

“There’s really nothing to it. Just use your eyes and look lively.”

They sat in the little building, nothing more than a shed, a

windshield, that gave them a view of the gate, its entryway, the

drawbridge and part of the road.

A wagon had stopped outside the castle and two girls, obviously

young noble ladies, laboriously got out. The oldest was a dreamy,

absentminded looking beauty of almost twenty, with long chestnut

hair. She helped the second one, a haughty looking belle with blond

hair, get out of the vehicle.

“I hope he appreciates what we have to suffer for him, Alanda,”

she complained in a whiny, petulant voice to the older girl. “I feel like

I was trampled down by a herd of wild hogs.”

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Andrew Ashling

“I’m sure he does, dear,” Alanda answered with the automatic

ease of having given the same kind of answer many times before.

A mousy looking girl clambered also out of the wagon and

straightened her dress.

“Let’s go inside and look for him,” she said to the other two.

Chrom looked smilingly at Fraydir.

“Let me show you how to handle a situation like this, young sir.

Determined, but without being brutal about it. However, we can’t

give everybody and her niece the run of the castle now, can we?”

He posted himself at the end of the entryway, sucked his belly in

once more, and put on his most military looking face.

“I really don’t know how she does it,” Alanda said. “It must be

something inborn, but she commands respect somehow.”

“If you ask me, it doesn’t become a lady to use such language,

Alanda,” the mousy one replied.

“Except nobody asked you, did they, Tyrenda?” the dainty beauty

said.

Chrom took a few steps forward.

“Young ladies, it is my duty to inform you that you can’t enter

the castle, unless you have an invitation, or some obvious business,

and—”

“Go drink your own pee, my good man,” Alanda said with a sweet

smile.

The three girls walked leisurely past a perplexed Chrom, ignoring

him completely.

“See what I mean?” Alanda complained. “When she says it they

almost wet their pants.”

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325

“The ‘my good man’ ruined it somewhat, don’t you think?” the

too blond girl said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Now, now, Volunda” Tyrenda chided, “there’s no need for that...

Oh, look there, there, there he is, just coming out of that tower.”

“Hey, Ferret, little Ferret, here, here,” Alanda shouted.

Rahendo looked up, saw three of his sisters and ran loudly yelling

to them.

“Oh, Gods, Alanda, Volunda, Tyrenda, how I have missed you.

Where are Chulonda and Berninda?”

The three girls started hugging him and then proceeded to

look him over, all the while excitedly talking to him, all at the same

time. Volunda took his right hand to inspect his fingernails and his

rings, while Alanda looked his hair over for lice. Tyrenda began

straightening his tunic. Rahendo let himself be handled with a happy,

contended grin on his face.

At that moment Arranulf came out of the tower. He crossed his

arms and looked smilingly at the reunion. When Obyann in his turn

exited the tower, the young duke nudged him and pointed at the little

group.

“By all the Gods,” Obyann exclaimed, “don’t just stand there,

Landemere. Don’t you see that our boy is being mauled by a bunch

of crazy women?”

“Those crazy women are his sisters, you’ll find,” Arranulf said,

still smiling.

“Oh, Gods, the poor guy. No wonder he is all weird,” Obyann

snorted. “Look how they are manhandling him. Why don’t they just

castrate him and have done with it? Don’t they have dolls to play

with?”

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Andrew Ashling

At that moment a fourth girl came through the gateway. She had

short hair, in a wild cut with choppy bangs. She wore pants and took

great care to take broad, manly steps. Her face seemed to feature a

naturally disdainful, sneering expression.

Chrom, still smarting from his encounter with the first three

Eldorn girls, took a determined step in her direction.

“Halt, young lady, where do you think—”

“Suck my dick,” Chulonda snarled. “And who are you calling

young lady, asswipe?”

“Hey, that’s no language—”

“Yeah, yeah, keep your unmentionables on, mother goose, I’m

just passing, not raping you in the ass.”

Without giving him a second look, or in any way changing her

laid-back pace, she walked by him. Chrom felt Fraydir’s stare burning

in his back.

When Chulonda reached the little group, she shoved a futilely

protesting Tyrenda out of the way and poked Rahendo with her

elbow in the ribs. Rahendo made a grimace, but kept on grinning

undauntedly.

“Hey there, Ferret, you little pervert,” she smirked affectionately,

“found many a sheath for your colossal, oversized sword, did you?

Must be paradise here for you, what with all those wussy boys

around. I bet you’re getting some. Yeah, I’d wager a lot you’re getting

plenty.”

She smiled broadly at him with obvious pride.

“I would have thought you would have stunk harder by now,”

she added, as if she wanted to temper her all too blatant enthusiasm

with seeing her kid brother. “Are your bunk mates, or should I call

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327

them fuck buddies, around?”

“There, on the stairs of the tower, Londo, but technically they’re

not—”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t butt fuck me like a fat pink pony, Ferret. You

crept into bed with one of them and now you’re trying to tell me that

shit all happened? Don’t juggle my balls, little bro,” she grinned. “I