the man he was now, always trying to prove something.
Her long brown hair was always neatly packed into a
tight bun. She always opted to wear dark clothing, her
shadow like appearance fitted with her title of chief
adviser.
“I still think you’re being hasty.” Her disapproval
of Brenin’s actions was all he had heard since leaving.
Brenin wrinkled his brow as he sat up. Brenin
laughed the comment off. “Hasty.” Looking from the
window of the carriage the green speckled grass
pushed through the orange dunes as they came closer
towards the castle Marrion. “Well, excuse me if I’m
trying to impede the worsening of their assault,” he
mocked.
Afie pressed her wrinkling lips tightly together, she
too looked from the window to the approaching
barbican of the castle Marrion.
“I know,” she quietly agreed with Brenin. Her
scoffing tone was low as she waved her head towards
him. “Harris Bearwood though?”
Her questioning did not worry Brenin, he was sure
of himself. “What do you know of him?” He turned
back to Afie. His head raised with wonder.
Afie looked back to Brenin, she began twirling an
emerald ring on her finger. “Born of Xencliff, my
knowledge of him is little, the taverns and Xencliff
pornes all know him, they call him The Commander.”
Her eyes relaxed and lowered, she looked to the ring
on her finger. “They say he is a shadow of war, every
hard battle we have he seems to turn up, somehow, he
never asks for payment.”
Brenin raised his brow, he wrinkled his nose and
sat up straight. “How does he fund his travels?”
“Plenty is known about his family,” explained Afie,
she slowly leant down, her elbows rested on her lap.
“His mother, Riah, she married King Waron, little is
known about his father, he isn’t Waron’s son,” she sat
up straight, “of course, if he were then this would be a
different kind of worry for me.”
Brenin sat straight, he gazed from the window as
they came onto the barbican of the castle. The
towering fortress stood as a grey power on the land.
The calls of crows guided them towards the castle
courtyard. The gatehouse was alive with guards as they
came running into the courtyard, the king had arrived
in Marrion.
“Your disapproval of the Xencliff king often
concerns me,” said Brenin, his voice held a quiet
concern, “eventually, we will need their armies, and if
they consist of soldiers the likes of Harris Bearwood,
this war is as good as won.”
Afie laughed, the very thought of the war being
over with the help of Xencliff amused her. “The
people are nothing but pornes, philanderers of the
most despicable nature, with Xencliff on side, all we
would have is hardened soldiers, and not in the way
we would want,” her mocking forced Brenin to laugh.
“This is why I bring you with me, I always seem to
forget just how entertaining you are.”
The courtyard was surrounded by a large
mezzanine, a small stone staircase took them to the
keep. Afie opted to head straight up the grey stone
stairs and towards one of the many guest rooms in the
heart of Castle Marrion.
Brenin on the other hand, thundered up the stone
stairs. Grey stone walls echoed of an ancient past, lost
long ago. Brenin’s fast footsteps pounded across the
corridor of the mezzanine; he made his way towards
the master’s room.
Without a thought, Brenin burst into the room.
Stepping through the dark wooden door, Brenin stood
in the dimly lit room, a desk to his right was neat, a
simple quill and some paper was all that sat upon the
desk. The walls were lined with bookcases, filled with
old leather-bound books. Through an archway
towards the back of the room was a large four poster
bed, lined with orange flowing lace curtains.
young beautiful woman, naked in the centre of the
room, the pert young woman gave an audible squeal as
she saw them burst in. Instantly, she tried to cover
herself.
Shirtless, a young soldier stood behind her, his belt
was unbuckled, his piercing green eyes glared towards
Brenin. It was clear he was favoured by the fairer sex.
His long black hair framed his face, he had an ecru
skin tone, but the tiny scars on his skin told the stories
he clearly was not willing to tell, a lifetime of struggle
shone from his troubled face. His strong chiselled jaw
line was clean shaven, he took care of himself. In his
youth he had seen many battles, he had been shaped
by war; his perfectly shaped body reflected the self-
discipline he had charged himself with, his high
cheekbones gave the real sense of Xencliff, a look of
exotic attraction spilt from him.
Brenin felt strangely uncomfortable. The very man
he was here to see had been described perfectly to
him, hundreds of times, but as he now stood before
him, the battered warrior, he had heard so much
about seemed to exude a sexual strength, a tenderness
seemed to cloud the battered young warrior. He
quickly took the woman’s wrap dress and ran towards
her to cover her.
Brenin stood sure, Harris had taken it upon
himself to take over the battle of Marrion.
“Can I help you?” Harris abruptly asked.
Brenin replied in a satirical tone, “I would hope
so.” He turned to allow the woman some privacy.
Running to the bed at the back she threw her wrap
dress around her. “I assume you’re aware this is the
Castle Marrion, this room is only to be used by the
commander?” affirmed Brenin.
“I am aware of this!” said Harris, clearly annoyed
with the intrusion. His smile seemed forced as he
asked, “And you are?”
A smile of great pleasure grew on Brenin’s face, he
asked in a low tone, “Where is your commander?”
Assuming the woman was now dressed, he turned to
face Harris.
“Dead,” he hastily replied. He relaxed his posture.
He was a man of confident youth; many rumours
surrounded the young Harris Bearwood, and Brenin
was there to uncover all he could. “The last one was
killed at the last turn. Lister, the Sonnin commander,
has asked me to replace the commander, until another
is sacrificed.” His twisted smile seemed to be filled
with a secret knowledge that he was the man for the
job.
Brenin’s brows furrowed and released. His body
tilted towards the young soldier. “So, Lister must think
highly of you,” he held a high tone. His arms caught
behind his back. “Are the council aware of this?”
Harris walked towards a drink’s cabinet beside the
bookshelves; he took two glasses. “L
ike they give a
shit,” he softly said, hunching his shoulders. “They
know I’m here, but the feckless cretins don’t seem to
bother with the war anymore, so long as their pockets
are full,” he proceeded to pour the drinks.
Brenin saw a chance, and took it, he flicked his
head up as he asked, “And what of Brenin?”
Harris raised his brows and looked to Brenin; a
smile grew from the corner of his mouth. “Nice try,”
he nodded with approval. Brenin was trying to be
cunning, Harris appreciated his attempt. “Sire,” he
gave a slow wobble of his head. “I know who you are,
but why you’re here, I’m yet to work out. My father,
he used to saddle your horses,” he revealed with a hint
of pride in his voice.
“You’ve been rather elusive, Harris, difficult to
find, your past is hard to detect,” Brenin seemed
impressed with Harris. Harris instantly looked up; he
handed a glass to Brenin. “Your mother Riah, married
to Waron Chen Lu, of Xencliff.” Brenin took the glass
and ambled towards the desk. The young girl
remained in the shadows. Brenin lowered himself into
the seat at the back of the desk. “When your father
died,” Brenin looked down, his eyes spilt with a
reminiscent flood of memories, “such a shame, he was
a good man,” he lifted his head; “when he died, I
know you and your brother were taken to the palace
of Xencliff. Records on you are scarce.” He leant
forward and placed his glass on the desk, having not
taken a single sip. “Why is that?”
Harris walked towards the bed, taking his black
tunic he began to dress, he buckled his belt as he
replied, “Eric, Eric Bearwood, of Xencliff,” he made
his way back to the desk, “my father, our home was
taken, by the vile scum I fight today,” he slowly sat
opposite Brenin. “Odalis and I hated the palace of
Xencliff, nothing but extravagant bullshit to hide the
iniquitous, seedy delights of Waron.” His brows raised
as he took a large drink from his glass. “Needless to
say, I did learn a lot from Waron.” His voice softened;
memories flooded his mind. “I was never destined for
palace life.” Harris leant over and took his boots close
to his desk. As he put his boots on, he explained. “I
learned more when Odalis left, he opted for service
with the Cronnin army, I was too young, left behind, I
was a little shit in the palace of Xencliff, of course
Waron is known to have no male heir,” he raised his
brows to Brenin, almost as though he was gossiping,
“nine wives and not a single son, he took me under his
wing, but I was just a little shit, never behaved, never
one to do as mother said, I finally had enough when
my mother set me to work with the pornes, so I
travelled.” He sat straight; his smile widened as he
spoke to Brenin. “I did learn more than I thought in
Xencliff, the women there are…” he looked to the
woman stood by the bed. “Vigorous,” he carried a
raised brow and wide smile. Harris looked to the glass
sat by Brenin, he was yet to take a sip. Harris reached
over; he took a sip from Brenin’s glass. “It’s
moonshine, won’t kill you,” he mocked.
Brenin gave a slow, low nod. “This is where you
became elusive.” He reached for the glass and took a
small sip. Moonshine happened to be his favourite.
“Until you showed up and ended Blodmoor, and
Portsmere,” he gave a nod of approval. “I have heard
of you.”
“Then why ask?” Harris sat forward in his chair,
curiosity was something he was well known for, he
always had a need to know all he could.
Brenin mirrored Harris, he too sat forward and
asked, “During your travels, I have nothing but
blotches of information, I know all my commanders,
but you,” he raised his brows to Harris. “You, I am yet
to figure out.” His tone was pressing.
Harris sat back, he relaxed in his chair. He flicked
his hands up. “Firstly, I’m not a commander,
secondly, I have nothing to tell, I kill the bastards, I
don’t ask for payment, or title, what’s the issue?”
Brenin leant back in his chair. “How do you fund
your exploits?” he blatantly asked, “you are not paid as
a mercenary.”
“The lowest form of scum,” Harris softly replied,
he hated the mercenaries, “I can assure you, not a
single mercenary will ever walk among these ranks,
only good men and women, loyal to Cronnin.” Harris
tensed slightly, the king was asking all the right
questions, but he had little to tell. “During my travels,
I earned a title, a nickname.” His smile grew, the
young woman stepped further into the room.
“We call him The Commander, Sire,” she softly
said. Her gentle tone was one of compassion.
Brenin raised his brows, he gave a quick shake to
his head and said in a deep voice, “You’re not a
commander.”
The woman stepped forward, she was sure to be
slow, this was, after all, her king she was speaking to.
“He’s our commander, Sire, before he joined the war,
Harris was the one protecting the taverns,” she looked
lovingly to Harris, “he was never a porne like me, he
was a gentleman, the Atlanti would often cause issues
in the taverns, Harris always seemed to be there,” her
smile grew towards him. Brenin could see the sparkle
in her eye, a strange bond between her and Harris
showed clearly on her young face. “Always when we
needed him, always in a dark corner, from the
shadows he would rise,” she carried a pride in Harris.
Harris sat further back, his chest thrust out, he
raised his brows as he placed his fist under his chin to
lean, glaring towards Brenin with a sure grin.
Brenin’s eyes widened. “Well–” Brenin struggled
to find his words, he puffed his cheeks. “I’m lost,” he
sighed.
Harris rolled his eyes; he took a deep breath. “I
spent my time in the taverns, my father always used to
say, to find a fight, find passion, the volatile
relationship between him and my mother taught me a
lot. Waron loves his fiery women, hence, he married
my mother.” Taking another drink, he waved the
woman over to him. He took her hand in his and gave
a loving kiss to the back of her hand. “You can leave,
thank you,” he softly said to her. Turning back to
Brenin, Harris explained, “When I left Xencliff, I left
to find Odalis, we both hated the place, apart from the
obvious exchange in bodily fluids, I hated the place,
long story short, I left, spent a long time in taverns,
killing random Atlanti, fucking many, many women,
mostly I didn’t even have to pay, that’s where I earned
the title of ‘Commander.’ I found Odalis among the
camps of the red army.�
� His eyes drifted to the floor.
“And?” asked Brenin, he leant further forward. He
was enthralled with Harris’s story.
Harris raised his eyes to his armour, which stood
proud on a manakin towards the back of the wall
beside his desk. Brenin turned to see it. Slowly he
stood, horror seemed to take hold of him. He touched
the strange leather scales on the arm of the armour, a
feel of solid velvet. Brenin muttered, “Lizard skin, so
the stories are true.”
Harris took another drink from his glass, this time
he finished it. “I arrived at the camp, Odalis had
joined the red army, the dragons of old lit the skies
that night,” his voice was soft, a pain was in his voice,
his eyes drifted towards the armour, he glared towards
it, the memory of that night was strong in his mind. “I
saw Odalis, he could see me riding towards him, I
tried to stop him, it was too late…” Harris seemed to
struggle. “The dragon, took him from the ground,
plucked him like a defenceless fucking grape, and tore
him in two, it had no heart, no feeling, it saw me,
screaming like a frightened fucking child, it threw his
head at me.” He looked to Brenin, who listened
intently. Harris gave a menacing laugh, “Can you
believe that?” His eyes drifted towards the desk. He
folded his arms on the desk in front. “I couldn’t let it
live, it took down half our army, I’m of Xencliff, born
of anger, I took the bastard thing with one shot, none
of them thought to go for the eyes,” he explained as he
shook his head.
Brenin slowly walked back towards the desk.
“Don’t make a habit of killing dragons, Harris.” He
slowly sat and glared towards Harris, waiting for him to
finish. Harris began to run his finger around the rim of
his glass. “Harris, what happened after that?”
Harris broke his silence, he looked to Brenin with
a furrowing brow. “Not long after that, I used the
scales to fund my time in the army, dragons do malt;
however, the hard scales underneath are stronger,
lighter, I used a solution, formed the scales for my
own armour, and sold the rest.”
Brenin shook his head as he sat back. “Why not
just join?”
It was a well-paid position, but Harris had other
plans. Harris leant back. “Freedom,” a gentle tone