Chapter 2 - Sirich

The sun burned. Sirich had to slowly peel open his eyes that met the rays of light pushing through his chamber windows. Dust particles swirled in the narrow beams. It seemed brighter than usual. He sat up in his featherbed and took a moment to shake off the grogginess. He didn’t remember leaving the window ajar. His room was cool with a cold bite to it. He felt as if he hadn’t slept well. He did dream however but couldn’t remember the details. They had been lucid, but now a just a foggy haze in his head. He had awoken to see the moons light many times throughout the night. He tried to remember. He noticed a metallic taste in his mouth and rubbed his finger on the inside edge of his lower lip. His finger stained red. “Must have bitten my lip while sleeping”, he thought. 
He leaned over to pick up the book on the floor he had been reading before sleep finally took him. He had been reading “Ancient Beasts of Aahsgoth”. The worn, brown-leather-bound book was worn and faded. He couldn’t make out the Ceptor’s name who wrote it. He had always enjoyed history, living through every era of time though the pages of a book. Wolfpine had an immense library only second to Library of Ashbourne where the Preceptar’s lived. He wondered what it would be like to run come across some of these creatures If it could be believed. He had read of dragons, bloodkin and other tales of magick and sorcery. If magick was real, it had died long ago.
He laid the book down on his bed table beside what was left of last night’s candle. A lump of wax was all that remained. It had snaked over the edge of the oak table, white drippings frozen in time. A few drops had reached the floor adding another layer from previous nights.  He stood and stretched and ran his fingers through his midnight black hair looking for his brush. It was nowhere to be found so he grabbed a black leather strap, got out what tangles he could and pulled it up into a ponytail that reached the center of his back. It would have to do. He looked into the broken mirror on the vanity and rubbed his eyes. Blood-shot star-blue eyes stared back at him. They still burned. He saw that Clara had filled his wash basin although the water was now cold. He leaned down and rinsed his face. The water cooled his eyes, the stinging subsided, at least for now. He grabbed the white linen towel hanging below the mirror and patted his face. His face was shadowed with stubble. He needed a shave he thought, he would ask Tommen after supper. 
He had slept in his breeches again, so he walked back and sat on the edge of his featherbed and pulled on his black leather riding boots still dusty from yesterday’s ride to the brothel at the crossroads. As he stood he snatched the white cotton tunic from the bed where had had thrown it and put his arms in to wear it again. He pulled it over his head and paused. A slight grin came to his face as her scent filled his chamber. His head emerged to see Elya at his door out of the corner of his eye. “You move like a shadow, but I could smell your perfume”, he said. She smiled as she entered the room and closed the door behind her. “That’s quite the nose you have my Lord, but I’m not wearing any”, she said studying him as he pulled his shirt down to his waist. He turned to see she was wearing a simple light-grey cotton with white stitching that formed a floral pattern below her neck. Her long black hair pulled up into what looked like a silk knot of braids as the rest flowed over her shoulder. Her olive skin glistened in the sunlight. Her inviting brown eyes met his as she bit her bottom lip. “It’s like you were cut from the very stone you stand on” as she stepped toward him. He grabbed her pulled her close and kissed her deeply. “You didn’t come to me last night” he said as they took a breath. She didn’t respond. She stood on her toes and slightly kissed his neck, sliding her hands under his shirt caressing his chest. Her fingers exploring every inch of him. She made her way down and slowly sank to her knees and untied his breaches to reveal his manhood. She looked up into his eyes as she started to stroke him. He leaned his head back and exhaled deeply as she took him in her mouth. She slid one hand around to his buttocks and pulled him closer. After a few moments he couldn’t resist any longer. He pulled her up almost violently as he spun her around and pushed her against the wall as he positioned himself behind her. He pulled her hair aside and nibbled at her neck as he pulled her dress up and over her hips. Both were breathing heavy now as she closed her eyes and uttered heavy sighs as if she was whispering to the wall. He sank to taste her. His hands squeezed her buttocks, she exhaled deeply in pleasure as he explored her with his tongue. Moments later he stood and held himself, the other hand on her shoulder pulling her to him. She reached back with one hand and spread herself to receive him. He entered her slowly as she gripped the stone wall with her other hand. She was warm and wet with ecstasy. His hands slid back up to her hips as he began to thrust slowly at first then more intensely. She arched her back and moaned looking back at him piercing him with her eyes. For a moment he worried someone would enter, but only a fleeting moment. She whimpered to the rhythm of their bodies clashing together faster and faster. Her buttocks glistened with sweat as it started to pool in the small of her back. She must have felt him grow larger inside her, as she cried out “yes, yes, yes!” His manhood was now throbbing. He exploded inside of her. He grunted with each lunge as she peaked with him in unison. She reached back and pulled his face close to hers as they both gasped for air trying to catch their breath. Sweat rolled from his brow and from her bare buttocks as she rotated her pelvis and hips against his in a slowing rhythm before pulling away and lowering her dress.
“We shouldn’t do this my Lord”, she managed in a whispery exhale. “We just did”, he replied as he caught his breath and found his tunic once again. “If my Lord-Father finds out he’ll…”, “Do nothing”, he interrupted. “My Father is Lord is his liege lord, what could he do?”. “My Lord Father sits on the council” she replied, “and I’m promised to Lord Clearwater’s Son”. “Your Father should be grateful, and you are not some common kitchen wench, are you? Perhaps we could marry.” he said in a questioning manner. “You would marry me? Do you think they would allow it?”, she asked. “If you are lucky, he japed. “Perhaps I will ask my Father; the council meets today, and I hear he wants me to attend. “Why would he want you to attend?” she asked. “Perhaps he wants me to take his seat one day”, I do not know, but maybe I will sleep better there”. They giggled like children as he tied his breeches once again and she adjusted her dress. Elya gave him one last kiss on the cheek as she walked past him toward the door. “Will I see you tonight?”, he asked. “If you are lucky”, she responded with a devilish grin on her face and left his chambers.
He walked back over and looked in to the mirror once more a crack in the glass distorting his face. “Why was this not replaced yet?”, he thought. He had asked a steward to replace it a fortnight past. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and took a deep breath. He felt he could go back to sleep for a century. He needed to break his fast although it was likely noon. Although he couldn’t remember feeling ill growing up he had been feverish lately and hadn’t had much of an appetite. Today he felt hunger pains. He turned and pulled the rusty iron handle to open the door and found Clara standing there with her fist in the air about to knock. “Damn, you startled me!” he reacted almost shouting. “Apologies my Lord, but your Father wants to see you and I brought your…” She responded in a hesitant tone as he interrupted. “Yes, yes, I will see him after I have a shit!”, he responded as he walked past her angrily. “Yes, My Lord…of course”, she responded confused, but he was already gone. She looked around and angrily threw his hair brush on the floor.
He walked from the privy beside his chambers through the grey stone halls of the old keep heading toward the old king’s tower where his Father’s study resided. The stone in the old keep had grown dark over the centuries. Compared to the outer walls it looked a different castle. The tops of the inner towers were now jagged where stone had broken loose and fallen ages ago. The southwest tower they called “rockfall” after a small stone had fallen and hit Merek in the head when they were young. Luckily it only had left a scar on his forehead. Water stains pointed downward resembling black daggers almost stabbing the floor. There were few windows here, so candles had to burn constantly. Rusted iron sconces were placed about every ten footfalls, the dim light flickered, and shadows danced on the stone as he passed. This part of the castle remained damp and some areas moss grew out of cracks in the stone, green fingers reaching toward any glimmer of sunlight from open chamber doors. Occasionally it was cleared by servants always to return. He came to the north tower where he took the winding staircase descending into darkness. The heavy oak door creaked as he pulled it open to reveal the great hall before him. He stood in the light once more. He had always felt nostalgic here with his house banner draped on the front wall over the great hearth. This was where his ancestors had ruled, planned battles, and shared meat and mead with noble houses and allies. Servants scrubbed the wooden long tables that filled the room. His grandfather had been the last true king before his own Father and heir changed Aahsgoth forever. Now the banners of nine noble houses hung on the walls between the tall stained windows on each side of the hall with room for more. A rainbow of colors filled the room. He walked between the stone columns toward the front table slightly elevated on where the high lords of old had sat. At times the tables were moved for mummers plays, singers and tricksters. He glanced at the banners and their rune sigils as he passed. The lightning bolt of house Thorne, the odd skull-like symbol of house Cherne. His favorite was the rune of house Lucian. He wasn’t sure why. The glyph resembled a droplet of water, perhaps blood. So much history was unknown to even those that bore them. The rune was black on a field of red.
He came to the table and walked around behind the old stone chair, as most called it, where his grandfather once sat, the chair his Father surrendered. He rubbed his hand across the back, feeling the crevices around tone-carved sun that would rise above the head of anyone who sat there. If the entire castle fell, surely this would stand. “Not much of a throne, aye?” he heard a voice echo from the back of the hall. “No, but it’s perfect” he responded, with a slight grin. “Are you following me sister?” he asked. Ashaya grabbed him, stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Good morning brother. Or should I say afternoon”. “Yes, yes, my Lord Father”, he muttered. “I’ll hear it soon enough, I’m off to see him soon. “Eat with me” as he gestured to a servant. “I’ll have 4 eggs boiled, honeyed toast and a plate of bacon burned black”. “Ale as usual My Lord?” the girl asked. “Yes, and hurry it up, I’m starving” he responded.” “Thank you, Daria, please forgive my brother, he was just born an asshole.” Ash said as she sat down at the table. “Yes, My Lady”, The girl chuckled as she nodded her head and left for the kitchens. “I was born a prince”, he mumbled. “Yes brother, you were, but you have to let that go, now you are just an asshole”, she smiled. Sirich could hear the clang of pots and utensils when she opened the door. “Are they not supposed to serve us?” he asked, “Yes, but they are not slaves!” she insisted. Sirich rolled his eyes as he sat across from her. “So, who is she?” she asked. He looked surprised as he stumbled to respond, “Who is who, I don’t…”, Ash cut him off, “Are you wearing perfume now then?” she asked with a grin. “She said she wasn’t wearing an…, never mind” he sighed. “So, you did have a good morning then” she japed. A slight grin came to his face, “So I hear you lost your supper last night?”. Ash looked puzzled, “How did you…”, “these walls speak you know”, he interrupted laughing.
“I only spoke to Elya for a moment last night when I returned. I saw her in the hall speaking quietly to Lord Promen. That bitch!”, Ash started to laugh, I wanted to tell you myself.” “You can tell me later; the old man will be pissed already. Daria returned with a pewter plate of bacon and eggs and poured them both a cup of ale. “Leave the flagon” he said prompting Ash to kick him under the table with angry eyes. “Please”, he responded as the girl nodded and left them. “I can tell you now” Ash proclaimed, Father can wait,” she paused. “It’s not just the theft of my supper. You know the Smoking Wood better than anyone, have you ever seen anything other than small grey wolves in that wood? “No, but your thief was likely just a bear.” he responded dismissively. “This was no bear, it was too quick, besides it would have eaten where it stood.” she thought aloud, her hands cupped her chin. “Perhaps it was a Lycan that stole your rabbit. Why does this matter anyway?” he smirked as he reached for his cup. “I’m not interested in fairy tales. It was just strange, as funny as it is now, I felt like I was being watched the whole time.” Ash thought while he devoured his food. “Perhaps it was just a wild dog?” she thought.  He spoke as he chewed, “I read of them last night. There used to be bigger wolves, extinct now I suppose. Some say they still live in the highlands if they existed at all. Remember some long dead Septor wrote of it, writers and singers like to embellish things”, he said as he finished the last of his bacon and washed it down with Ale. Ash remained puzzled but started to smile as she finished her cup. “Oh well, that’s what cooks are for I suppose”, she chuckled thinking of what Mitch had told her. Sirich smiled and poured both another cup of Ale and drank it down before standing and wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “Don’t worry of it Ash, likely just a bear, you were frightened and didn’t get a good look. I must go hear Father’s moaning. I’ll see you after the council meeting? he asked. “You are attending the council meeting? she asked surprised. “I suppose I am, he had mentioned it yesterday while you were getting robbed of your supper”, he smiled. “Perhaps he wants you to see more of Aahsgoth, she rebutted, “all you have seen as of late are the backs of asses and eyelids”, she said as she stood. Sirich couldn’t disagree as he nodded with a smile, although his Father had always called him a night owl since he was a boy, he had not been himself and had felt even worse. “Most of the lords have arrived, don’t make any more of a fool of yourself than you already are” she added. The council meetings will last a fortnite, I have plenty of time to make a fool of myself dear Sister” he agreed. He walked around the table to her, took her by the shoulders and leaned down and kissed her forehead before turning toward the doors behind the hearth that led to the inner courtyard. “Mitch has returned you know, no word or Raven from Merek as of yet”, she proclaimed. “I’m sure hes well, he likely found a brothel he likes in Ethorya.” He yelled as he opened the double doors to the yard. Ash rolled her eyes as she followed him to go to the stables.
Sirich winced as he walked into the light of the yard and light breeze cooled his face. Autumn was close, and the courtyard was busy with movement. He took in the sights, from the men chopping wood to be burned throughout winter to women washing and hanging out clothing to dry. Mostly house retainers were in the inner courtyard. The outer walls contained the majority of the city. He watched people feeding goats and hogs in their pins, children ran by laughing as they made a game of chasing chickens. He saw mothers with babes at their breasts and house guards at their posts board and watching it all themselves. He smelled the smoke of many fires from various firepits in throughout the courtyard and young boys at target practice. He heard the song of the smith’s hammers forging new tools and weapons. That reminded him to visit Galen to acquire a new sword, his was worn from practice hitting nothing but straw men. He sometimes secretly longed for a proper battle. There had recently been small skirmishes that need intervention, mostly small houses fighting over land and some militant religious groups fighting for their Gods, but no real battles, no adventure, nothing to emerge the hero like the songs. He made his way through the crowd occasionally nodding at people who made eye contact, nodded or bowed. He finally approached the Kings tower after what seemed like an eternity. Suddenly he could hear all the songs in the yard at once. Laughter echoed, the smith’s hammers clanked, the fires crackled, all so loud in his head at once. He covered his ears in pain as the noise overwhelmed him. The world spun around him; he almost lost his footing, but a guard grabbed his arm and helped steady him. The chaos in his ears and dizziness subsided after a moment. He could hear what sounded like his own heartbeat. The guard let him go, “You alright my Lord?” “Yes, fine” he replied unsure. The guard stepped back beside the door as Sirich stumbled forward. The two guards nodded, “My Lord”, they said almost in unison as they opened the heavy oak doors. The guards looked at each other confused when as he passed.
He climbed the spiral stairs identical to the north tower to the third level. He paused momentarily realizing he was slightly out of breath. His ears were still ringing slightly and now his gut hurt again as if he hadn’t eaten. For a moment he felt nauseous and clutched his stomach. Long enough for a slight sweat to break on his forehead. “Perhaps I am dying” he thought as he walked toward the black stained door to his father’s study. “If my Lord Father doesn’t kill me first”, he mumbled as he knocked on the door and entered the room.