Chapter 17
Gerald,
newly made Duke of Alkin and the surrounding vicinity, really hated the woods.
Trees to him were like women; nice to look at, but definitely meant to be used
in their prime. After that, they were only good for the occasional rekindling
of flame...
"Remind
me to set a nice cozy forest fire when we complete our task, Killion,"
muttered the wiry Gerald to his father's (now his) captain of the guard, as
they and a squad of castle guardsmen rode into Deep Alkin Forest.
"Yes,
m'lord," said the largish fellow riding astride his stallion. Sir Killion
frowned, keeping his eyes forward as he muttered "brat" to himself.
Gerald
still heard him, but did not reply. He knew what all his father's trusted
servants thought of him and none of it really mattered. He was, after all, the
new Duke of Alkin, a fact that was undeniable. They could say and think
whatever they liked, as long as he didn't have to hear it.
Killion,
however, was a touchier subject. His opinion always mattered and was not so
easily squelched. He'd been the most respected of men in Alkin and had acted as
his father's advisor in time of need. Staying in his favor was not something
Gerald took lightly. In fact, Gerald had always looked up to his father's
dashing captain. The man had been around as long as Gerald could remember,
growing stronger and more dignified with age. It had been Gerald's sole
ambition as a child to become the very image of Killion. When he was 10, he had
even gone so far as to put pitch in his hair to make it look jet black like
Killion's (he'd blamed that one on Pandora when his father exploded over the
ruin of his blond curls). So desperate was he to follow in the footsteps of so
great an adventurer that he made it a point to tell Killion of all his valoric
attempts to vanquish his evil older stepsister Pandora.
But
Killion, like the rest of the world, had always favored Pandora's disgusting
naivety and sweetness to Gerald's tales of daring-do. Pandora may have been two
years older, but she was such a ninny, such a sissy, such an
"ANNNN-gel", as his mother put it, that even when he tried to teach
her to swim in the moat with a rock tied to her foot, she still believed his
charming and convincing rationales and forgave him.
"We
should break camp here, m'lord," said Killion, stopping his mount
meaningfully. "We will have to continue on foot later. The men are tired
and without the aid of moonlight, this forest is impenatrable until
daybreak." Gerald could see this was not a request.
"Make
it so," sighed Gerald, stopping to dismount. It was obvious that Killion,
who still thought the world of Pandora, was in no hurry, but Gerald wasn't
either. Even if Pandora did make it in time to warn her mother, what strength
could a band of women muster against 20 seasoned warriors and himself? Pandora
would probably be the only real resistance and she'd have to die, anyway.
It
did seem a shame, Gerald thought, to have to kill such a perfect victim. But
if she's going to insist upon defying me, then she'll simply have to be gotten
rid of and Killion will just have to get over it and get used to it. Having
the kingdom's first harem was far more important than keeping some witchy-eyed
half-breed around for the occasional beating.
"Perhaps
in the morning, m'lord, you will feel differently about..." began Killion.
"Killion,"
said Gerald, removing his horse's bridle, "you are wasting your time and
overstepping your boundaries. These nymphs are in my territory, therefore, they
must tithe to me and I am fully capable of deciding how they will do that."
"Yes,
m'lord," said Killion, through clenched teeth. "I must warn you,
however, that this forest has more treachery than it appears. Brownies and
sprites and other mischevous..."
Gerald
laughed aloud. "Surely, Killion, one as powerful and as brave as yourself
is not afraid of a band of dirty little monkeymen with their rustic
magic!"
"I
respect and give credit to those who those I do not see, rather than deny and
mock their existence," said Killion, turning his attentions back to his
horse. "You would be well advised to do the same."
Gerald
shook his head. Brownies!, he thought. Such superstitious nonsense!