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Tales Of Morveria: The Restless Priestess

A Sabaarii’s Search for Happiness and Meaning Awakens the Darkness of Her Past.

By Mantrid Brizon

Part Seven: The Gathering

Slumped back in the seat, Brevin looks down at Nailah, the Sabaarii who naps so peacefully in his arms. Her head rests against his chest, her blocky snout near the center and a clawed hand on his belly. A little smile curls around her snout in perpetuity, at peace with herself and her choice of a mate. The human softly pets the head of the lizard-like amphibian, running his fingers through the water-kin’s ruby hair. She softly coos and gently shifts, her fingers coiling as she clings to him. He cannot help but smile and leans in to kiss her head.

He turns his eyes toward a window and sees the distant town rising from the seemingly endless prairie, continually petting his beloved wife as he gazes upon its splendor. It’ll be nice to see civilization again, if only for a little while. After resupplying, they’ll continue on their way, and preferably with another caravan company. They’ve been in the same carriage for nearly three weeks, making their way northwest. Vinzint, their driver, and Zandt, his pet Vostii of the wolf-kin, have done a good job of keeping them moving, but it hasn’t been the easiest or most comfortable journey.

Aside from the usual hardships of life on the road, the wolf-kin male is obviously quite interested in the only female. However, the Sabaarii has already bonded herself to the human, and Zandt’s advances have been an annoyance. Vinzint often berates his pet, who responds as most pets would, four-legged or beast folk; he bows his head, droops his ears, softens his brow and shows submission, like a good boy. Still, Zandt often pushes his luck, and even Brevin has been forced to snarl at him on several occasions.

These incidents have only made Nailah more interested in her mate and bolstered her confidence in his strength. Zandt’s poorly concealed jealousy further complicates things. Whenever he witnesses the odd couple snuggling and kissing by the campfire, or after they’ve finished pleasuring each other in the privacy of the carriage, his frustration is evident to everyone, though Zandt himself often makes light of it. It’s a strange and primal feeling, being beholden to her mate. It gives Nailah a sense of feminine power, submitting to and yet partnered with the human. She takes an almost perverse glee in it.

Despite Zandt’s carnal desires and jealousy, and Nailah’s propensity for rubbing his nose in it, Vinzint has done a good job of keeping the wolf-kin in line, while Brevin tries to control his Sabaarii wife. Still, he cannot help but feel nervous. What if Zandt’s desperation leads him to doing something drastic? He is a healthy male, after all. If it ever came to that, Nailah would certainly defend herself, but her savagery in slaying the three bandits leaves him nervous. This partnership with the driver and his Vostii needs to end, and soon...

When the town comes clearly into view, he can overhear Vinzint and his pet speaking. As an orphan raised by The Order, Zandt also speaks the human’s language.

“What [will] we do after this job?” Zandt asks.

“I don’t know. We’ll ‘ave to find another, I s’pose.” Vinzint replies.

“Maybe we [can] travel with them, more?”

“... You just want to be near the Sabaarii!” Vinzint snickers.

“Yes! [Have] you see[n] her ass and her big breasts?!”

“Hey! Those belong to me!” Brevin growls.

“Oop!” The wolf-kin suddenly stops.

Brevin feels Nailah stirring and looks down at his beloved. Since they’re almost there, he gives her a little shake.

“Wake up, my sweetroll.”

“Mmrrmm?” She slowly opens her eyes and yawns. “[Are] we stop[ping] to rest?”

“No...” He gives her a little kiss on the snout, making her smile grow even wider. “There’s a town up ahead. We’ll spend the night in a real bed, buy more supplies in the morning and then leave with a new caravan.”

“Good. I [do] not want to travel with that smelly wolf any longer.”

“I hear[d] that!” Zandt chuckles from his seat at the front of the carriage.

“I know!” She shouts back.

“[Do] you want me to take [a] bath, just for you?! You [could] join me!” Zandt laughs.

“Ugh...” She rolls her eyes.

He laughs a little louder, but thankfully for everyone, the comments stop there. Upon arriving in town, the couple disembark and collect their belongings. What’s left of their rations are packed into a new canvas bag, a heavy sack that Nailah easily slings over her shoulder as if it was a dainty purse. She’s even stronger than the average beast woman; Brevin’s thankful she doesn’t use her full potential in their marital bed, or he’d never defeat her.

“Ahh-yes. I remember this place!” Vinzint suddenly chirps.

“You’ve been here before?” Brevin turns to him.

“Once. We didn’t stay long. There’s an inn nearby. I’ve never slept there, but I’ve ‘eard good things about the beds and food. I can show you!”

“Alright.” Brevin smiles and nods.

Following Vinzint and Zandt, the group walk through the quaint little town and enter a three-story wattle and daub building. Each floor overhangs the next, creating a modest shadow all around the base of the structure. They can hear a faint creaking in the warm breeze that blows through the town. The many blue-tinted windows are quite filmy, revealing their low-cost nature. Pushing open the front door, it creaks so loudly that even the humans wince in pain and stop to cover their ears.

Shaking it off and stepping inside, they’re immediately blasted by the delicious aroma of cooking meat and freshly baked bread. A faint haze of kitchen smoke fills the room. It’s a rather dim interior, despite the afternoon sun, and much of the light from outside is degraded by the cheap window glass. Small oil lamps adorn the tables and walls, giving the place a comforting amber glow. Brevin and Nailah immediately feel at-ease, their eyes scanning the main hall, which serves as a dining area.

There’s a handful of patrons scattered throughout, most of them enjoying a drink at the bar at the far end of the room. A human waitress appears from an archway leading to the kitchen, a platter of food held high. She makes her way to a table where a very pale man with platinum blond hair and cold eyes sits with a Korutan of the horse-kin. The mare’s equally intense eyes follow the platter, which contains two large and expensive looking meals, one of fish and potatoes and the other a vegan dish garnished with edible flowers.

The pale man looks directly at the newcomers, focusing on Brevin and Nailah. His cold eyes turn toward Nailah and then return to Brevin, only for the man’s lips to curl into a little grin. He gives Brevin a single nod, then thanks the waitress and pays for the meal early, to her surprise. As she turns around, she stops at the sight of the four strangers.

“Well, hello there! Are ya’ll hungry? Please, find yerself a table and I’ll be right with you!” She chirps with a strangely charming drawl.

“Actually, we’re ‘ere ‘bout some rooms. Ya’ do rent rooms, don’t ya’?” Vinzint asks.

“We sure do! And might I say, that’s an interesting accent you have, sugar!”

“And I could say the same to you, my dear.” Vinzint smiles.

Following the waitress to the bar, she introduces them to the bartender, her husband and the owner of the tavern-inn. Brevin and Nailah book a room while Vinzint and Zandt share their own. They’re each given a set of old keys with a room number etched onto them.

“I hope you enjoy yer stay! If ya’ll need anything, my wife and I’ll be here until eight, then it’ll be mah sister’s turn ta watch the bar.” The man says in an equally thick drawl as he collects payment from his guests.

“Right-oh, my good man, and must I say, this is a right fine place ya’ got ‘ere!” Vinzint chirps.

“By ‘The One’, I could listen ta you talk all day, sugar.” The wife remarks, to her husband’s amusement.

The innkeeper promptly excuses himself as he and his wife tend to their other guests. Vinzint turns to Brevin as he pockets his change.

“So, what’s the plan now? You two goin’ to keep on yer merry way or will ya’ stay ‘ere for a bit?”

Nailah turns to Brevin, eager for his leadership.

“We should only stay for a night...” He begins, a hand caressing the small of her back as he looks to her. “It’s a very long journey, after all. In fact, we might want to resupply now, before we make our way upstairs.”

“Why?” Nailah cocks her head.

“You know!”

He grins and pulls his arm tighter around her slender waist, his hand giving her buttocks a little slap. Nailah gasps and then giggles, while the driver and the wolf-kin both roll their eyes.

“We might not have the energy, later.” He coos into her ear, leaning closer.

“Oh! Hehe!” She flushes.

“It’ll be nice to have a proper bed.” He adds, softly kissing her cheek.

“Mmm-yes. I like soft beds very much.” She coos, grabbing onto his shoulders.

“You always spread out in just the right way.” He speaks softly into her ear, his other hand grabbing hold of her side, near her breasts.

“Ooh...” She softly huffs, her temperature already rising. “I-I enjoy feeling open and free, husband.” She speaks in a soft groan as Brevin kisses her neck.

“Ahem...” Vinzint clears his throat, gaining their attention. “If ya’ don’t plan on stayin’ long, we might walk with ya’ a bit. We need supplies, too, if we’re to make it back ‘ome.”

“Do you know a good shop?”

“I might.” Vinzint grins. “Come on, friend!” He chirps, draping an arm over Brevin’s shoulders. “Let’s go for a little walk!”

As they walk, it’s clear to Brevin that Vinzint and his pet, Zandt, will both miss traveling with the couple. His slow, meandering pace gives the couple the impression that he’s stalling, preparing himself for the loss of their companionship. Vinzint turns a corner and suddenly stops, his brow furling when he looks to a large warehouse.

“Oi, that’s strange. Wasn’t this the store, last time we were ‘ere?!” He turns to Zandt.

The Vostii shrugs his shoulders, his eyes focused on his master. Brevin looks around and spots another establishment down the street. The sign above the door reads ‘Amata’s Dry Goods’. He doesn’t speak a word, merely walking toward the building, leading Nailah by the leash which she’s legally obligated to wear and causing Vinzint and Zandt to catch up to them. No sooner than they open the door, a woman begins to greet them.

“Welcome to Amata’s Dry Goods! How can we hel-GET HIM OUT OF HERE!!!”

The group stop dead in their tracks, barely inside of the store. They find an older human woman in her late thirties or early forties standing behind a counter and beside a female Vostii of the mouse-kin who appears about the same age as the human. Both cross their arms beneath their busts and glare at Vinzint’s pet.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” He asks, visibly confused.

“Get. Him. Out. Of. My. Store...” The human growls.

“I promise, he’s well-behaved and very fr-”

“Shut up! ... I don’t like the wolf-kin... I don’t allow any male beast folk in here...”

“Why do you only forbid males?” Brevin asks.

The woman’s head slowly turns to him. Her glare is enough to end the inquiry. Vinzint turns to Zandt and motions with his head.

“Sorry, buddy.”

“It [is] okay.” Zandt replies in a soft, even meek tone.

Vinzint follows Zandt outside and haphazardly ties the end of his leash to the wrought iron pole of an oil lamp, beside a bench. They can see him through a modest window. Zandt’s ears droop and he hangs his head, nodding as Vinzint speaks to him and pats his shoulder in a gentle and assuring manner. Feeling the tension in the air, Brevin and Nailah approach the women who stand as still as statues.

“You know, he really is a good Vostii.” Brevin remarks.

“I don’t care. No beast men in here, and certainly not wolf-kin!” She replies in a snippy tone.

“May I ask why, ma’am?”

“Amata... I’m Amata, and no, you may not... Just know that I have my reasons. Anyway... I’m sorry for raising my voice...” She quickly apologizes.

“It’s alright.”

“So... What can I get you?”

“We’re making a long journey west and we need to buy in bulk. Dried beans, rice, flour, corn perhaps. Canned foodstuffs if you have them.”

“I do! I have many things to support travelers!” Amata chirps.

“Good. My Sabaarii loves corned beef and chicken.”

“I have those, too! Right this way! I keep a good stock just for travelers. That’s just about the only customers we get in this town.” She replies, making her way around the counter.

Amata eagerly drafts a list of the supplies they’ll need for their journey, and it’s quite long. She leads her mouse-kin assistant and the duo begin collecting the sacks, jars and small crates, building a neat pile in an empty corner, across from the front door. Vinzint has his own list and they build another slightly smaller pile near Brevin’s. When Amata learns that they’ll be staying at the inn for the night, she offers to store their goods free of charge, and allow them to load their new wagon tomorrow.

After paying for their things and collecting a stamped receipt, the group make their way back to the inn where Vinzint and Zandt stay downstairs to have dinner. Brevin and Nailah have something else in mind, and Nailah spends the next hour or so thoroughly inspecting the mattress and pillows, counting the threads and judging their softness. Eventually, she finds herself gazing upon the ceiling. Once her final blissful climax has finished, shortly after her mate has begun flooding her womanhood with his seed, the lovers slow to a stop. They stare longingly into each other’s eyes before sharing a passionate kiss, locked in a very carnal embrace.

Eventually, however, Brevin is allowed to remove himself and the lovers curl up with each other and fall asleep. They don’t even bother to eat. The following morning, the couple awaken parched and famished. They wash each other with damp cloths and a small basin filled with soapy water, a habit born of perpetual travel and one they’ve grown accustomed to. Once they’re clean, they dress themselves, pack their bags and make their way downstairs. There’s nary a soul in the dining hall, which takes up nearly the entirety of the ground floor and it’s as quiet as a tomb.

The husband and wife who operate the tavern-inn spot them from across the room, standing behind the bar and giving them a funny look. Brevin gently tugs at Nailah’s leash in a poor attempt to keep up appearances and the pair make their way toward the bar.

“I reckon you two must be hungry.” The man snickers.

“And thirsty, I’ll bet!” The wife adds.

Nailah narrows her eyes at what sounds like mockery.

“We serve the best breakfast in town, with the largest portions, sugar.” The wife continues.

“It’s just the thing to keep up ya’ll’s strength!” Her husband chuckles, reaching out and patting Brevin on the upper arm.

“I’m sure a right fine Sabaarii like her is a real handful.” The wife giggles.

“What [does] that mean?!” Nailah snaps, startling the proprietors.

It’s obvious from the looks on their faces that they weren’t expecting Nailah to understand them or speak their language. Brevin’s heart drops into the pit of his stomach, as does Nailah’s. She knows the rule, and she just broke it. There’s a brief silence as the couple stare wide-eyed, their mouths agape.

“Oh... She’s a Companion!” The wife’s tone suddenly changes.

“Er... Yes...” Brevin murmurs.

“I should’a known. She’s far too pretty to be one of them wretches ‘The Order’ takes loves takin’ in.” The wife grins, her eyes scanning Nailah’s shapely figure.

“Well, I’ll be! Who would’a thought! Two nobles and their Companions staying under our roof! And at the same time, too!” The husband boasts. “Please! Have a seat, sir! I do humbly apologize for our rudeness!”

“Ya’! We didn’t mean nothin’ by it! It’s just frustrating when every other man comes in off the street to screw the odd stray Vostii, give their pony-kin a good ride, or brings their favorite Sabaarii maid into the bridal suite to “polish his spear” without his wife knowing... That fat, cheatin’ pig.”

“Now-now, honey, they don’t need’ta hear about our troubles. These’re highborn! Oh, my... Another noble and his Companion, in my business! Surely, I am blessed!”

“I’m a little surprised a noble would dress so commonly, though...” The wife remarks, her eyes scanning Brevin from head to toe.

“Nonsense! Who’s gonna flash their wealth as they wander amongst us lowly peasants? A fool, that’s who!” The husband replies.

“What about the other Lord and his sultry mare?” The wife snickers.

“He’s obviously daft! Not like our smart nobleman!”

Neither Brevin nor Nailah can tell if the couple are having a serious conversation or continuing to mock them to their faces, however, the husband sounds almost giddy as he sends his wife into the back to prepare a fine meal for them. Rather than break character and risk arousing their suspicion, Brevin forgives the man and orders a breakfast of steak and eggs, as well as a bottle of his finest wine.

The quality meal and drinks will cost a sizeable chunk of the money he has left, but if this man and his wife believe that Nailah is from The Order and not a Companion, it could cause them problems.

“I’ll be glad to be out of this place.” Brevin murmurs, claiming a table as far away from the odd couple as possible.

“I agree.” Nailah murmurs, cautiously watching them.

Within moments, the thumping of boots and the clopping of hooves echo throughout the dining hall. The husband and wife duo hastily collect a bottle of fine cognac from a little cupboard behind the bar and set aside two of their cleanest goblets, moving so swiftly that they bump into each other and nearly fall to the floor. Brevin and Nailah watch them bemused before turning their eyes toward the figures marching gracefully down the stairs.

“Good morning, Lord Krisvo! Would either you or your lovely Companion be interested in some of our finest spirits? I happen ta’ have a bottle’a cognac rye’tcheer!” The innkeeper chirps, his accent even further exaggerated.

“The grill is nice n’ hot, too! I’m already cookin’ a fine meal for them that’s sittin’ right over there!” His wife adds in an even thicker drawl, pointing across the room.

The tall, pale man with platinum blond hair and cold eyes looks toward Brevin and Nailah, smiles a little smile and nods his head once. He suddenly approaches them, to the couple’s silent chagrin.

“Good day. May we sit with you?” The Lord speaks in a soft, warm voice that betrays his unsettling complexion.

“Go right ahead.” Brevin replies, motioning toward the chairs across from him.

“Thank you!” He chirps.

He pulls out a chair for the towering Korutan of the horse-kin, who flattens her already tightly fitting dress against her behind before slowly sitting down. It’s as if she’s worried about wrinkling it. The man hands her the end of her own leash, an expensive, pink-dyed cord made from three leather strips weaved together. It attached to a matching pink collar with golden buckles.

Taking a seat beside her, the pale man rests his hands atop the table whilst sitting perfectly straight. He’s like a statue and his intense gaze perplexes the artisan and his Sabaarii wife.

“I’m Lord Orson Krisvo, and this is my Companion, Hakika.” He speaks in a soft, deep voice with no discernable accent.

“Hello.” The mare speaks in an equally soothing voice, waving with her fingertips.

The nobleman shifts in his chair and motions to the proprietors.

“Four glasses, please. That cognac sounds lovely.”

“Oh, but... They’ve already asked for our finest red wine.” The man murmurs, visibly afraid of offending Lord Krisvo.

“Even better! We’ll have that instead, and if you could, prepare another meal of steak and eggs for me. Hakika will have the apple blossom salad, like before. She was quite fond of it.”

“Of course, sir! Thank you, sir!” The innkeeper’s wife curtseys.

Completely ignoring their odd behavior, Lord Krisvo turns in his chair and clasps his hands together as he stares at Brevin in unsettling silence. The artisan and his Sabaarii wife look nervously between the couple, scanning them, trying to determine their intentions. The mare sits nearly a head taller than her master, which isn’t a surprise, given that she’s of the horse-kin. They’re some of the largest of all the beast folk, matched only by some Vostii of the bear-kin and a handful of other equally large and strong breeds.

The males are unsettlingly large, and most doors are measured so that they’ll barely touch the crown of the average horse-kin’s head. As common as they are, this is a good metric. Along with their size comes incredible strength, capable of feats that a human could only dream of. Though not particularly aggressive by nature, and often possessing a herd mentality, they can also be headstrong and stubborn. Even the females are exceptionally tall and sturdily built, features that betray their genteel, nurturing, and generally more submissive nature.

His Companion is quite typically in this regard, as despite her imposing stature she’s an elegant and soft-spoken mare, with long, flowing hair that’s silvery-white in color. Her dress is tailor-made and appears quite expensive. It clings to her voluptuous body and leaves little to the imagination. The buxom mare’s shapely figure is matched only by her unique fur, which is short but soft and with a silky sheen. From what the couple can see of her, she appears off-white, almost cream in color, and covered in many four-pointed stars of varying sizes and which speckle her outer arms, outer legs and her sides, near her back.

It’s a very unique pattern, as elegant as it is unusual, and this also isn’t a surprise. She’s a Companion, a woman either born into or purchased at infancy by the Temple of the Companions, a private company that trains beast folk to be the highest order of entertainers and consorts. It’s entirely possible that they selectively bred highborn beast folk to produce her unique pattern, before sending her to whichever compound she spent her childhood, training to entertain and pleasure the wealthiest of the wealthy, and the most elite of the elites.

Looking to Lord Krisvo, it’s easy to imagine him as both of those things. He sits in an expensive suit, tailored for his tall and lanky form. His pale skin and platinum blond hair give the impression that his family lineage might also be “pure,” as many once called it. Inbreeding was a common practice for many noble families back in the day. Evidence of its dangers has caused many to cease the practice, though some still insist upon it, to their offspring’s detriment. As Brevin looks to the strange nobleman who sits across from him, he has a sudden realization.

“Krisvo... I think we visited your old home.”

“Ah, yes... The family manor. It was the first; the first to be built when my great-great-grandfather amassed our fortune... And the first to be lost when it began to dwindle.”

The nobleman’s tone suddenly shifts, a hint of melancholy in his voice. The mare glances past her master, and the party of four turn to the owners of the tavern-inn as they promptly serve their food and drinks. To Brevin’s surprise, Lord Krisvo pays for it in his place, and even offers to buy their meals! He hands over the coin before Brevin can stop him. His generosity is unusual for a nobleman, and Brevin cannot help but feel uneasy about it. Nailah sees her mate’s discomfort and adopts his apprehension. In truth, his unease only confirms an anxiety that was already there; she was immediately unnerved by the strangers.

“You know, most consider it polite to reply with your own introduction after one is presented to you.” Lord Krisvo suddenly remarks, his little smile ever-present.

“Sorry... I’m Brevin.”

“And this is?”

“Nailah.”

Brevin answers for her, on impulse. Ever since their journey began, the rule at every town is that Nailah must not speak aloud and must pretend to understand Ancient Hitrosii, which Brevin pads with simple gestures to convey his messages. Unlike the husband and wife operating the tavern-inn, few people confuse Brevin for a nobleman and Nailah for a Companion. One mistake, one wrong word spoken in the human’s tongue, that could be the difference between reaching their destination and being questioned by the town guards and perhaps even arrested.

“She [does] not want to talk?” Hakika asks, turning her deep blue eyes toward the Sabaarii.

“I speak only when I have something interesting [to say].” Nailah quips.

“Heh. A clever one!” Lord Krisvo chuckles.

“Indeed, she is.”

Brevin smiles whilst tenderly caressing the back of her neck. She cannot help but giggle as she reacts to his touch, tilting her head back before looking to him and batting her eyelashes. It’s a gesture that does not go unnoticed by the Lord and his Companion.

“So... What are you two doing in this little town, if I may ask?” Brevin returns his attention to their guests.

“That is a very long story...” Lord Krisvo says with a heavy sigh.

They assumed that would be it, but to their surprise, he began to tell his tale, starting with a marriage of convenience that gave way to genuine love. Several years before, Lord Krisvo, who quickly asked the couple to call him by his first name, was the last of the males bearing the Krisvo name. In a desperate bid to salvage their status and regain a modicum of respect and wealth amongst the nobility, his aging mother found him a bride. At first, Orson wasn’t pleased about this match, nor was his new wife, but after the wedding, and as they began to get acquainted, a genuine love blossomed between the two.

The marriage was a happy one, and for a few short years Orson knew true peace. Unfortunately, the birth of their firstborn claimed not only his son but his wife as well. Their deaths left Orson in shambles. Remembering how much wealth they’d gained through this marriage, his mother immediately set out to find him another young and valuable bride, but Orson was beside himself. In his grief, he wanted nothing to do with a new wife and refused to even meet the woman she’d found for him. His devastation kept him isolated, wading in an ocean of sorrow.

In a desperate bid to lift his spirits, his mother recommended he buy a Companion. She thought a Companion’s talents in song, dance and music, as well as her skills in the bedchamber would snap Orson out of his despair. She had no idea just how right she was. Orson accompanied his mother to a Temple, the elegant name for what is little more than a high-class slave market. There, he found Hakika. She was one of the last Companions he viewed, seated in the viewing chair like a king while the beautiful beast women presented themselves, just as they’d been trained.

Hakika was different. She was so struck by his looks that she flushed and forgot her lines! As she apologized, the mare was certain she’d embarrassed herself and missed the opportunity to have a handsome master, but Orson found it all so endearing. He bought her, took her home, and that very night he fell asleep to her recitations of ancient poetry. It wasn’t long before she began to share his bed; she gleefully surrendered her purity to the nobleman. Upon taking her virginity, he knew there was more to their relationship than master and slave, or in this case, noble and concubine.

To his mother’s horror, Orson and Hakika fell in love, and though it wasn’t technically legal, he went to The Order and married Hakika with a traditional wedding ceremony. Brevin and Nailah sat in stunned silence as Orson continued his story without a hint of shame, even as their drinks were refilled by the flabbergasted couple who operate the tavern-inn. The nobleman married Hakika in ritual but was still legally a widower, and yet he refused to marry the noblewoman his mother had found for him, even after she had somehow convinced the young woman to go through with it.

That’s no small feat, as it would be quite the embarrassment for a woman of any station to marry a man who would betroth himself to his property. It’s tantamount to marrying a statue, a wagon or a shovel. Humans have sex with beast folk often enough for it to be unsurprising and even somewhat expected, but to pledge oneself to a lesser race, to his own property?! His mother begged and pleaded with him to reconsider, to marry the noblewoman while also keeping Hakika to, “satiate your proclivities.” Orson still refused, thoroughly tarnishing what little was left of his family’s reputation.

As if that wasn’t enough, he decided that he and Hakika needed a new life. They would travel to a distant land, a land where humans and beast folk supposedly intermingle freely and without judgement. The tropical paradise of Zhanai was that place, in the small of kingdom of Vandalar, which is famous for its tolerance and even support of race-mixing. It seemed like the perfect place to start again! He promptly drained the remnants of the family fortune, leaving his mother and young sisters with the last estate to their name and but one chest of gold zakians to support themselves.

He was certain his mother would soon marry off his sisters for a tidy profit, so in the end it didn’t really change a thing. Orson and Hakika have spent the last two months on the road, drifting from town to town as they make their way to their new home. Brevin and Nailah slump back in their seats, their empty plates before them. Orson told his story so well and with such passion that Nailah instinctively knew that every word he spoke was the truth. The love he has for his Korutan Companion is obviously genuine, as he held her hand throughout and gave her kisses several times during his story.

“Perhaps someday, when I’ve established us in our new home, my mother will come to see Hakika as my true bride, and will accept our future children as her flesh and blood, Polotan though they will be...”

“That would be very nice.” Hakika nods, giving his hand a squeeze. “But I [will] be happy having only you.” She gives him a tender kiss.

“Aww!” Nailah gushes.

“And that’s our story... Now, then... What might you two be doing here? Are you journeying to a safer, warmer, more tolerant land, as we are? I wouldn’t blame you, especially since it’s safe to say that she isn’t a Companion...” Orson speaks the last sentence rather quietly.

Brevin and Nailah tense up. They look to each other, then to the noble and his Companion.

“I apologize if I’ve made you uncomfortable, but... Well... It’s just that-”

“You [are] very beautiful, Nailah, and you speak well, but you lack my training in etiquette.” Hakika interjects, her voice soft and non-threatening.

“I am... I was [a] priestess...” Nailah begins, hanging her head as if she were ashamed. “I was trained by ‘The Order’, to become [a] vicar. I [am] not [a] Companion.”

Now it’s Orson’s and Hakika’s turn to be shocked. The nobleman cannot help but ask and having heard his story with all its sordid and embarrassing details, Brevin feels comfortable and even compelled to share their story in return. He regales the highborn of his meeting Nailah, first in passing, as a young child, and then again when he helped repair the aging temple. Nailah admitted to succumbing to her carnal desires and mating with Brevin, frequently, within the sacred walls of the temple. They shared his capture, her humiliation and ultimately their risky escape, after he failed to free her by legitimate means.

They even share their original plan, which matches the noble’s. Nailah takes it a step further and speaks of her nightmares. The highborn are intrigued, and so Brevin reveals their trip to the library that was once the first Krisvo family manor, a trip that’s now led to their new destination, a fabled lost city in the desert, built by the beast folk; Hakala’kata is what awaits them. Orson and Hakika sit in stunned silence, having left their refilled goblets untouched.

“My word...” Orson finally breaks the silence. “That is a far more interesting story than I was expecting!”

“Yes. Very.” Hakika nods in agreement.

“In fact, I do believe your tale is more compelling than ours! To find a lost city! It’s... It’s a true adventure!” Orson’s voice raises with excitement.

“We may never find it, but she’s worth the effort.” Brevin remarks, taking Nailah’s hand into his.

“Oh, Brevin!” She coos, leaning in and giving him a passionate kiss. “I love you.”

“And I love you more.”

“No!” She giggles.

Orson and Hakika look to each other, then to the couple, then back to each other. Their gazes convey a message, spoken without words. Orson’s eyes beg the question, and Hakika smiles a little wider and nods her head. She isn’t giving him permission but her blessing. He clears his throat and leans on the table, bringing himself closer to Brevin.

“I don’t mean to intrude, but it’s obvious that you love her the way I love my Hakika. I would bet that kind of love is more common than most would be willing to admit, but it’s undoubtedly not widely accepted, at least not here... I know you have a grand adventure ahead of you, but...”

“But, what?” Nailah asks.

“We’ve been traveling to the kingdom of Vandalar in the hopes of finding acceptance and peace. We’ve heard that in Vandalar, marriages between humans and beast folk are legally recognized, and that traditional slavery is forbidden. We’ve planned our futures there in nearly every detail but... If you would like some company...”

“What’re you saying?” Brevin presses him.

“The truth of the matter is that we’ve been wandering aimlessly for some time, now. Vandalar is the destination, but so is the journey. Do you understand my meaning?”

Brevin and Nailah both shake their heads.

“Ah... Well... While our companionship makes the journey more than worthwhile, it’s lacking something... Your journey sounds far more interesting than our humble sightseeing adventure, and it would be an honor to join you on this lovely expedition!”

“I...” Brevin hesitates, unsure of what to say. “Ahem... I’m not sure if... What I mean is, I don’t know if that-”

“And it would be my pleasure to help fund this little adventure.” Orson quickly adds, pulling a leather satchel from his belt and plopping it atop the table.

The large pouch clanks with coins and appears quite heavy. As it falls several inches onto the tabletop, the weight of the contents causes the cord that ties it shut to loosen. It slowly leans over as the cord unravels and the artisan and his Sabaarii wife find themselves staring at a large pouch filled to the brim with gold zakians. Brevin and Nailah turn to each other. They speak with their gazes, but not as fluidly as the nobleman and his Companion. They eventually resort to words.

“What [do] you think, husband?”

“I think that’s a lot of coin...” He murmurs.

“They [could] help us?!” She scoots closer.

“Perhaps, but I think it might b-”

“Eh, look oo’s still ‘ere!” Vinzint suddenly chirps, interrupting Brevin as he makes his way down the stairs, Zandt by his side. “I thought you’d ‘ave left by now! I don’t suppose you’d like to travel with us some more?! We certainly wouldn’t mind! Zandt and I can make sure it’s a real smooth ride this time. I’ll adjust the straps, I will!”

“You have a wagon, good sir?” Orson asks, swiping the pouch from the table and turning toward the driver.

“I do, sir, I do! We’re lookin’ for a fair out of this lit’le town of yours. If they’re too ‘igh and mighty to travel with the likes of us...” Vinzint smirks as he glances over to Brevin and Nailah. “Then per’aps you and yer Korutan might be interested?”

“Perhaps.” Orson grins.

“We’re a fun pair, and trustworthy!” Vinzint boasts as Zandt nods in agreement. “Just ask ‘em! We ‘ad a good journey, didn’t we?!”

Orson wastes no time. He rises to his feet, dwarfing the driver and his wolf-kin pet, then shoves his hand into the satchel of gold. To Brevin’s and Nailah’s shock, the nobleman immediately barters for passage, and when Vinzint learns they wish to go further west and not back to his homeland, Orson immediately triples the price. With six gold zakians glistening in the palm of his hand, Vinzint and Zandt are left in a stunned silence. After shaking off the shock, he says the only thing he feels he can say.

“But of course, sir! We’re more than ‘appy to ‘elp you and yer Korutan on yer way!”

“You wouldn’t take us that far.” Brevin remarks, feeling a little slighted.

“Money talks, my friend.” Vinzint smirks, pocketing the gold coins.

“That will be enough for the four of us, yes?” Orson suddenly asks.

“Er... Sure?!” Vinzint shrugs. “But if they’re comin’ along, we’ll need more supplies. They already ‘ave some on ‘old at Amata’s Dry Goods.”

“Hmm... Then we’ll just have to buy more supplies.” Orson remarks.

“Sorry, sir. [The] wagon [will] not fit more.” Zandt answers.

“Oh! He speaks?!” Hakika gasps.

“I got ‘im from The Order. Took a couple to their weddin’ and the lit’le bugger thought he could swipe my lunch from the trunk. Caught ‘im red handed, I did!” Vinzint chuckles, draping an arm over Zandt’s shoulders. “I liked the lad so much I thought I’d adopt ‘im.”

“Very sweet.” Nailah smiles.

“Yes, my ‘eart is my second biggest organ, larger than my brain but smaller than my c-! Heh...” Vinzent suddenly catches himself.

“What if we buy another wagon, and perhaps hire a team?” Orson casually suggests, returning to the original conversation.

“It can be done, sir! I can get right on that!” Vinzint chirps, his eyes as wide as the golden coins in his pocket.

“Good. Are you ready to go?” Orson turns to the artisan and his Sabaarii wife.

And just like that, Brevin and Nailah have been reenlisted. Orson grabs Brevin by the shoulders before he can answer, pulls him out of his chair and gently shoves him toward the door. Nailah hastily grabs their bags as she follows only a few steps behind.

“Where are we going?!” Brevin asks, his head swiftly turning to the left and to the right.

“Why, to buy you another wagon and stock it for our adventure! Lead the way, sir!”

“What?!?!”

Though he’s told to lead, he feels like a bystander as Orson pushes him along and Vinzint guides them. They quickly find the stables, and once there, Vinzint haggles with the owner for a sturdy wagon and two fine-blooded draft horses. Nailah watches in silent amusement as Hakika pets one of the common, four-legged horses, who share none of her humanoid qualities.

“What?” The horse-kin female asks the Sabaarii.

“Nothing!” Nailah cannot help but smirk.

After agreeing on a price, Orson counts out the money before handing it to Brevin and instructing him to pay for it. When presented with the receipt to sign, he quickly grabs Brevin’s arm and pulls him closer, ensuring that the artisan’s hand is the one that grabs it.

“Oh, I’m just the coin purse! He’s the man in charge!”

“I am?!” Brevin asks.

“Of course you are!” Orson chirps, patting him on the back.

“... Alright then.” The stable owner remarks, looking confusedly between the two. “If you don’t mind my asking, what do you need this for, anyway? I mean, what with the Companions and all... I-I mean no offense! I just don’t want to be involved in anything unsavory!”

“Nonsense, sir! No offense taken! We’re going on an expedition, a truly grand adventure in search of a lost city!” Orson exclaims.

The stable owner raises an eyebrow and his lips begin to curl with visible amusement, and though he tries to hold back a laugh, several of his hired hands perk up. They raise their heads and look toward the ragtag group of strangers.

“Well... Alright then! You, uh... You have fun with that.” The stable owner softly chuckles.

“Indeed, we will, sir!”

“Hey...” A voice suddenly speaks up.

“Hmm?!” Orson whirls around, finding a pair of young men standing behind him. “Oh! And who might you be?” He leans forward, his hands behind his back.

“I’m Velder and this is Steve.” A brown-haired young man points to the ginger-haired youth.

“Steve?! That’s an odd name.”

“Are ya’ gonna need some help handling these wagons?” Velder asks.

“Perhaps... Why do you ask?”

“My half-brother and I, we’re experienced, and, well... We ain’t doin’ nothin’ worthwhile here.” Velder answers.

“We can handle yer horses and keep the wagon goin’! We ain’t got no family left, and we don’t have much, so we won’t be a burden!” Steve interjects.

“Yeah. We’re plumb near packed already.” Velder adds.

“Oh, that’s lovely.” Orson chirps, smiling down at the youths.

“So, can we go with you, mister?!” Velder asks.

“Oh, don’t ask me. You’ll need to speak to the boss!”

He turns and motions with his head to Brevin, who promptly looks around for the person standing beside or behind him. He looks to and fro, then turns back just as the brothers approach him, adventure in their eyes.

“Boss? You mean me?!” Brevin points to himself.

“Who else?!” Orson laughs.

Looking into their eyes, Brevin cannot bring himself to say ‘no’, and within hours he finds himself sitting in the carriage with Nailah while Vinzint and Zandt once again hold the reins. The unusual Lord Orson Krisvo and his Companion, Hakika, sit across from them, strange little smiles on their faces. Two wagons laden with supplies trail behind the carriage. One is commanded by the young brothers, while a new wagon is owned by a traveling family. Upon seeing the small caravan and hearing Orson boasting of their trip to this fabled city to the young brothers, they all but begged to join them. Orson, of course, steered them toward Brevin, who again failed to say ‘no’.

“Ah! It’s good to be on our way again, and with a proper destination, too.” Orson chirps, slipping an arm around Hakika’s waist.

“I suppose...” Brevin murmurs.

“What’s wrong? Are you worried?! We have a little caravan, some fine helpers and plenty of supplies!”

“It’s just... We only met a few hours ago, and I don’t even know who they are!” Brevin says while gesturing with a thumb toward the family’s wagon at the rear of the caravan.

“Are you referring to Velder and Steve?” Orson begins.

“That is [a] very strange name...” Hakika murmurs.

“Or the Smythe family?” Orson continues.

“Was that their name?! ... This is all happening so fast.” Brevin shakes his head.

“But of course! Adventure often does.”

“Promise me something...” Brevin stares at Orson.

“Hmm?”

“You have a way with words and a very lively approach that... Erm... Enthralls certain people...” Brevin pauses, trying not to offend the odd noble.

“Thank you!”

“So, please, if you would, don’t tell any more people about this journey. I don’t want to be responsible for anyone other than Nailah and myself.”

“Of course, boss.” Orson smiles an eerie smile.