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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Dreams Can Come True - 2. Chapter 2
Pink’s journey to the end of the kingdom was fraught with jeers and derision, for in all the land he was the shortest, pinkest, Daisy-est knight. Yet, he’d grown up the butt of all the jokes about the Daisys because where in the entire world could one find a pink daisy. He was a rarity, an oddity, and short, too. The one thing he’d gotten out of the deal was a thick skin. He just didn’t hear the laughter anymore.
Once he crossed the great river and into the Hinterlands, Pink finally relaxed a bit. Before him stood high, grey peaks topped with snow that sparkled in the summer sun. He knew there were no dragons up there. He was too close to the King’s knights who would’ve slew whatever dragons were up there.
Pink had never been to the Hinterlands so didn’t know what to expect. He’d heard stories, but what can anyone expect from stories other than a good laugh, a moral lesson, or being scared out of their willies. Mostly, it appeared to be farmland of one sort or another. There were cattle, sheep, wheat and other grains, small stands of forest, stone walls extending every which way, but no people, none. After a league or so it got to be a bit unnerving. Most farmers he knew, the tenants on his father’s estate, were very careful about their crops, but out here in the Hinterlands there seemed to be a different custom.
Just as he was about to bring his pondering to a conclusion, the road turned a slow corner around a small hillock and there before him was the prettiest dale he’d ever seen. A small river ran through the middle of it and seemingly in the exact center there was a small village. From his vantage point, which seemed to be the highest point around the entire dale, he couldn’t see any sign of a manor house. This was troubling because as a member of the gentry, Pink knew those people down there did not have the faintest idea on how to run a village much less an entire dale. This got Pink to thinking very, very much.
That isn’t to say that Pink wasn’t used to thinking because, of all his father’s sons and knights, he was in all likelihood the brightest Daisy in the garden. Yet, even he didn’t think along logical paths. Mostly, it was telling the overseer that rents were behind and to do something about or dealing with a poacher in the Baron’s forest. That was easy as they simply lopped off the man’s head, stuck it on a pike, and posted it in the village square until the crows pecked the skull clean. They didn’t have much of a problem with poachers.
The Baron did most of the thinking around the house, except for the women’s area where his mother reigned supreme. If fact, it had seemed to Pink that his mother pretty much ran the household except for the grand hall where his father ate and conferred with his knights. That was where the knights slept, too. They definitely were not welcome beyond the confines of the great hall. Mother quite simply wouldn’t allow it, period.
Well, at least I think, Pink said to himself as his horse slowly walked down the hill toward the village. The closer he got to the village the more it appeared the people were having some sort of faire. There were streamers of every color flying in a soft breeze, blowing in no particular direction. Loud laughter and guffawing could be heard coming from the direction of the square. Suddenly, unexpectedly, he saw children running up the lane and circling around Pink’s little Equus train. They were gaily laughing and snickering as little children do everywhere.
“I say, I say, what is the name of this hamlet?” Pink asked to no one in particular.
They ignored him and chased themselves back into the village.
Pink stopped his train and pondered their rudeness. After all, he was obviously a knight and, as such, should be afforded some degree of respect even by little ignorant children. This was another thing he’d have to ponder.
Just before the village began, that is at the edge of the cemetery beside the church, a crude sign stood beside the road, it said, “FURTHBURG.” Pink thought a moment before proceeding. Furthburg? What was it about that word that was familiar? Furthburg, furthburg, furthburg, what was it? Where had he seen that word? Pink was going to have to think about that, too.
The very next building was the Ass Tail Inn. It looked to be a fairly well cared for establishment and the two stars hanging under the sign told him it wouldn’t be overly expensive, though he did hope the food was good. One had to be careful of two-star establishments as they tended to concentrate on show while cutting back in other areas. He dismounted and was immediately surround by a swarm of unruly children.
“It’s a knight!” they called out in high-pitched screams. “A knight! A knight! A pink knight!”
“Don’t you children have parents?” Pink demanded.
“No, not today!” they screamed and ran back down the road.
Pink went into the inn. The room was empty. The chairs were stacked on the tables. All the glasses and tankards were cleaned, polished, and arraigned on their racks. The warm smell of beef roast filled the room.
“Hello? Hello?” Pink called out. “I say, I say, is anyone about?”
“They’s all down the square getting drunk,” a robust woman with a red face and short red hair said coming around the corner from the kitchen. Her grey shift was covered with a greasy, grey apron. Her scraggly moustache and furry legs told Pink a lot about her place in the establishment. She was about a hand taller than Pink, which meant she was still short for a woman. “And yer who?”
“I am Sir Pink Daisy, of Baron Daisy’s manor,” Pink said trying to sound important despite his diminutive appearance.
“We don’t take too kindly to knights and them such,” the woman said. “Too uppity and a demanding sort. Course yer being so short it’s likely yer not too uppity. No, not like that other one down there in the square. They’s roasting him.”
“What? What is this place?” Pink exclaimed.
“Furthburg, the first burg this side of the Hinterlands. Yer know, first burg, Furthburg. Yer never been to the Hinterlands has yer?”
“No.”
“Didn’t think so. Yer a nice knight or pushy like that other one? He was all demanding like. Thought he was special. Thought we owed him something. Us in Furthburg don’t owe no one nothing. Yer think we owes yer something?”
“No, not at all,” Pink said. “Do you have a room? For the night? I have money.”
She handed him a card explaining the rates and policies of the establishment and said, “Two silvers a night, includes meals, a separate room being yer’s gentry and all, livery for yer animals, drinks is extra. A gold and a silver gets yer drinks. Two golds and we’ll arrange a wench, or a boy if yer so inclined, to keep yer warm at night.”
“Here, this will cover my stay,” Pink said, handing the woman two silvers.
“Mama’s boy, right?” the woman asked. “Maybe yer’d prefer the smithy come up and push yer around a bit. Put yer in yer place. Bend yer over and drive yer home, so to speak.”
“No, I’m saving myself for marriage,” Pink said.
“Oh, lordy, lordy, lordy, we’s got us a religious freak,” the woman said shaking her head. “What yer need young man is a priest. That’s what yer need. A priest’ll get yer thinking correctly. Arthur! Arthur! Arthur! Quit yer wanking and get down here.”
“Yes, mum,” a boy about sixteen said coming down the stairs at the end of the room trying desperately to adjust his erection.
“The knight’s staying with us tonight. Stable his horse, slop out and change the straw in room four, and help him with his armor. If he needs a good wank, yer know what to do.”
“Madame, I say!” Pink exclaimed.
“Don’t come all sissy like with me,” the woman said. “Yer the same as any man, wench or boy, it don’t matter none to none when yer in the throes of passion. Yer know? Arthur is a good boy, nice and tight other customers have said. For an extra gold piece I’d get my own bed warmer.”
“Two silvers,” Pink offered, thinking of what he’d seen of Arthur’s erection as the boy came down the stairs.
“Done, but yer have to take care of Arthur too. He’ll tell if yer don’t and we’ll be roastin’ another knight in the square.”
“Certainly,” Pink said, “more than happy.”
“Good, sit down yer and I’ll get yer a plat du jour and a tankard. Best if yer take the rest of yer meals up in yer room, as the mob might get a bit rowdy after roasting that other knight down in the square.”
“Do that often?”
“No, only once or twice a year. Most just act normal like and we don’t see them again. Others think this is their land or something, but the Hinterlands don’t have a king or knights either. Where yer heading?”
“To find a dragon to kill and make a name for myself.”
“You mean something other than Pink Daisy?”
“Yes.”
“Sounds like a good idea to me, but yer know, yer should’ve asked for a wench being yer’s a pink knight.”
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When Pink opened his eyes the following morning darkness still kept the faint light of dawn outside the window. He felt the nakedness of Arthur lying beside his bare skin. He thought of the wench he hadn’t asked for and the fun Arthur provided once the boy’s inhibitions were lessened. Wenches were just too sloppy for him while boys, though not his preferred choice, were a pleasant option until it would be time for him to settle down and fill his home with the gaiety of children.
Arthur’s erect member began to rub against Pink’s thigh as one of the boy’s arms tightened around his chest. Suspecting the boy was still asleep and this was simply in reaction to a warm body sharing his bed, Pink, fully sated from the previous night, lay quietly waiting for the inevitable. He felt Arthur kiss his neck.
“I am awake,” Pink said, “but you’re more than welcome to continue.”
Inexplicably, Arthur pulled away and hurried out of the room leaving Pink to wonder, but being a worldly man he put it off to Arthur’s nervousness about being caught coming down the stairs into a room full of breakfasters. The boy probably had enough grief due to the fact he worked in the inn, both upstairs and downstairs. Whatever the case, Pink decided to wait until sunrise to venture down, too.
Upon awakening a second time with a ray of sunlight burning his eyelids, Pink felt a pang of frustration knowing his bed was empty. He decided to stay another night just for the comfort of Arthur’s strong arms embracing him, holding him down firmly against the quilts, kissing him, entering him, and thoroughly dominating him. It was almost enough of a desire to make him want to stay forever, but he knew that was impossible. He was but a few leagues from his kingdom. There was a church here, whether or not it had a priest there was always the risk one might show up; no just another night and then off on his quest for a dragon.
The downstairs of the inn was full of townsmen enjoying their tea, eggs, bacon, bread, butter, and sweet rolls that Arthur was serving from the kitchen. They eyed Pink with suspicion as all people in a small town do to strangers. He decided to sit in an unobtrusive table in the corner beside the end of the bar. The Mistress glared at him for a moment then brought him a pot of tea.
“Morning, Sir Knight, sleep well?” she asked.
“You’re a knight?” asked a rotund man at the nearest table. His black beard was full of bits of food, lint, and dander. His eyes were unwelcome.
“Yes, I’m on my way west to slay a dragon,” Pink said trying to anticipate his suspicions considering they’d roasted another knight the day before.
“Staying a couple days?” asked a man further across the room.
“Just one more night, I plan on leaving tomorrow,” Pink said.
“We have a peaceful village and it’s a free village per the Hinterland League,” said the black beard. “We aren’t looking for a knight.”
“No, I understand you had trouble with one who thought he could set up a fief wherever he wanted,” Pink said.
“That’s right, we roasted him in his armor which got nearly white hot in the process,” said another man in the room.
They all laughed for the longest time. Pink thought again of his plan to stay for another night, but the image of Arthur kissing him last night was too fresh in his mind to sway him into leaving.
“I’d think twice about wandering around our village in your armor, no telling what might happen,” the black beard said.
“No, I only wear it when travelling,” Pink said. “The next village, how far is it?”
“William, how far is it to the end of the dale?” the black beard asked.
“Five leagues at least,” a man in the middle answered. “Then there are ten or so leagues of forest, no dragon there, Sir Knight. Farmland starts after the forest, but I’ve heard the village proper is nearly twenty leagues. I’d say thirty or fifty leagues, but I haven’t been there and I don’t know anyone that has.”
“None of us have,” practically the whole room said nearly in unison.
“Are there robbers in the forest?” Pink asked.
“If there is, they are damned hungry,” the black beard said. “No one been that way in about twenty years. Isn’t that right?”
A chorus of “yups,” “uh huhs,” and “you bets” filled the room.
“That’s not to say there aren’t because they might be robbing the travelers coming from the other direction,” the black beard said. “Well, I’ve got cows to tend so I’ll be seeing you tomorrow morning, Sir Knight. Just remember, we don’t want or need a knight.”
Another chorus of “yups,” “uh huhs,” and “you bets” filled the room.
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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