GALEN:

  Light shined in through the cracks of the drapes, Galen groaned as he felt the heat on his face. He tugged on the sheets of his bed but a woman was lying on them, as naked as the day she entered the world. He felt tired, wanted to ze in bed for all eternity but was te enough. He knew he should get up, the feast commenced tonight and he wanted to look his best for it.

  Damn whore, cover hog.

  Galen thought, rolling his eyes at the woman but could not help but smirk. His long honey-brown hair fell in loose locks around his face, getting in his eyes.Galen admired the buxom beauty lying in his bed, Becca, his favorite whore. His eyes gazed down her body, past her long and curly red-hair, the freckles covering her shoulders, back and breasts.

  Becca was the only whore he liked to visit, he made sure to pay extra so she did house calls, he paid extra so she’d stay the night, paid extra to kiss her. He pushed his hair from his eyes and slid off the bed, trying not to awaken the curvy courtesan. He did hope she did not awake, it was rather cold in his chambers.

  He stretched as he stood on the cold hardwood floors, he was slim and nky for a man of twenty-three. Bags surrounded his eyes, long nights took their toll, or perhaps it was the wine. He felt a pinch on his bare buttocks and then heard a yawn.

  “Don’t try and slip away too soon, Mister Leto.” Becca’s voice was like honey, sweet yet sickly in the morning. He did not have the energy to bed her once more.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it. You’re feisty this morning.” Galen responded in a cocky tone, smirking. He turned his head to look at the girl in his bed, she was lying zily on her elbow. Her bare freckled breasts were out and proud, they were a lovely sight to wake up for.

  “There’s gold in their nightstand, be gone when I return.” Galen told her softly.

  “So callous, are you sure you don’t want me to stay for the rest of the day?”

  “No, go. My father would not be pleased to see a woman lying in my bed.” Galen told her with a small smile, shrugging. He knew that Bec had a long and hard day of selling herself. She’d never fuck me willingly. oh Alia, I hope I’m charming when I am drinking, she deserves a charming drunk and not a sloppy one. Such a pretty thing too, shame she’s a whore.’

  “Fine. I’ll leave then.” Becca frowned softly, a beautiful frown, and got out of bed. She collected her clothes off the ground and began getting dressed, fast as lightning. Becca probably outweighed the lithe lord, she ate well and Galen hardly at all. But Galen liked the fact that she was able to afford the finer things in life, too many whores were thinner than him and Galen did not much like it.

  When Becca was up, she made sure to run a hand across Galen’s pale, unblemished chest. Despite having Arakean origins, Galen did not look it. He was pale and green eyed when the Arakean’s had golden eyes and tanned skins because of those two suns in Arakia. Galen thought it was a pity that the second was not bright enough to appear across the far sea.

  “You need some scars, Gale. They’re manly, and every girl loves a manly man.”Becca whispered to Galen whilst she dressed, a yellow dress she was putting on. Yellow was her color.

  “Funny, people always try to swing at me but I always block it.”

  Galen countered, braggart toned. He was gd she could eat well, considering she came from the slums of Bckaston, too many people starved in Bckaston. Becca was a Northern girl, who arrived in Lesin a few months ago, when she just turned nineteen. Galen had paid her to tell him about her life whilst she held him.

  Galen just watched and appreciated the beauty of the feminine form, not caring that his cock was out for anybody to see. She finished getting dressed in a yellow dress that exposed her cleavage and turned to the door. Galen smacked her backside. “I’ll be seeing you then.”

  She blushed and turned her head to Galen for a brief second. A smirk pstered on her face. “In your dreams, fancy boy.”

  Galen snickered. You will be in my dreams, I have no doubt . He touched Becca’s soft, pale hands and brought her close. He gave her a soft kiss. Bec was eager to return it, a charade that Galen knew was a falsehood. She wants your gold, not your kisses, fool. “I hope there’s enough gold in the nightstand to cover the added expense of that kiss.”

  “I nearly forgot about the gold. Well, I think I can let that kiss slide just this once. No one will mind, especially not me.” Becca had the greatest smile that he ever saw, the slight yellow tinge in her teeth only made Galen appreciate it more. Becca turned and opened his nightstand, pulling out a leather pouch that they both knew was filled with gold sterlings, the finest coins in Soren. Becca blew Galen a kiss before she walked out of his room. She was a parasite, feeding on his lust for gold yet he was more than happy for her to suck the gold and life out of him.

  The future lord-to-be went about his morning ritual, going to the bath and scrubbing himself clean in the basin with warm water and then cleaning his teeth with a miswak. The miswak was a bit of a Solmani tree, from Arakia, with a frayed end. Nearly every lord imported Solmani wood so they could clean their teeth, Solma and their pink coast were only known for their lumber. Galen freshened his breath by swilling lemon water around his mouth.

  Galen dried himself before returning to his chambers, getting out his own clothes and dressing up for the occasion, the day of the feast.

  Uncle Tanner was finally coming to visit. oh what does that man get up to for most of the year? Galen dressed in a silk green tunic, the sigil of House Leto was too complex for the sower to embroider on the d's clothes. The sigil being a man pushing a boulder up a hill, Galen’s father, Flit, had expined it as man’s turmoil, neverending or some shit that Galen hardly listened to.

  Even at twenty-three, Galen could grow any hair on his face and perpetually looked younger than he was. He pushed the grand oak door to his chambers and ambled out from his chambers to roam through the halls of Fort Lenin, it was more of a manor these days than a fortress. House Leto was a retively new House, Galen’s fourth great grandfather had been a mercenary from Arakia who had been granted nds in the High West for his service in some war, Lenin was his name, and he named the castle after himself.

  Pompous prick, would have done the same if I was in his shoes though. Galen smirked, continuing his sauntering. He walked past grand portraits of his ancestors. Leto, an odd name for a Noble House. The Le part probably comes from Lenin, and the To probably just sounded nice. I doubt Sir Lenin Leto was a man skilled with words, good with a sword though no doubt.

  The Leto’s had gotten lucky with their nd, having struck gold in the ground and in the waters of the river. The gold profit had led to a town being constructed, Lesin, and then it eventually became a profitable city with a beautiful port. We lucky few. Galen believed Lesin to be a stupid name for a city, so pretentious. Lenin’s sin, the sin of greed. Pretentious cock.

  Galen entered the Leto family personal dinner hall, it was a small and private room for just the family.

  “Father! Nice to see you up so bright and early.”

  “I could say the same for you, I can smell the drink on you, the women and the zy attempt to scrub it off.” Flit Leto was a man in his forties, grizzled and hardened from war. Flit used to be a tourney knight in his youth, hogging the glory of a melee before becoming a man of war. Lord Leto was tall, standing at over six feet and was muscled like a strongman. Galen’s father had been a handsome and galnt man in his youth before aging into a reserved and balding older man. Ever since Galen’s dy mother died, father and son had been wallowing in pity two separate ways.

  “Can’t I live a little? I might as well get as many women on the reel as I can before this lovely hair starts receding like yours.” Galen told his father whilst running a hand through his long, honey-gold hair.

  “Any day now.” Flit murmured, a tiny smile on his thin lips as he tore apart his bread before dipping it honey-butter. Flit’s hair was a honey-brown color like his sons but only the sides and back remained thick with hair, and Galens’ father had grown a mighty beard that made his son slightly jealous.

  “You better be joking, you old fool.” Galen rolled his eyes, he and father japed even if Flit was horrendous at it. Flit tore apart bread, not using knives, a filthy habit that the Lord had picked up as a boy whilst in the workhouse. Flit’s father had sent him to the workhouse to teach his boy humility and a work ethic.

  “I may be old and I may be a fool but you do not get to call that, boy. Sit, eat, you look half starved. A warrior needs to be big and strong, like from a maiden's tale.” His father spoke, half his starchy bread in his gullet and down his beard. Flit pointed to the seat opposite himself and gestured for his son to sit.

  “I’m living a maiden's tale, I do not need to be big or fat like you. Besides, a warrior's life isn’t for me.” Galen shrugged, taking a seat opposite his father. Flit’s meaty fist smashed into the wooden table so hard that Galen was scarred that it was going to break the timber into firewood.

  “You must be kidding, son. You’re a better sword than me!” He bellowed out, “You’re a little scrawny for a warrior but still a damn good one! I’ve seen you put other boys to shame, you even beat the King in a spar!” Flit scoffed, a few crumbs of bread firing out of his mouth like arrows on a battlefield. Galen narrowly managed to avoid the artillery of starchy morsels.

  “I was eleven and he was going easy on me.” Galen thought his father was truly a fool for believing that he beat the king, King Damon was a better sword than any man in the eight realms of Soren. Damon proved that during the Drake Rebellion, a ughable attempt to end the Reign of the Bck Bear. Damon ended it in six months by beheading that Drake and keeping his only son as a hostage, pitiful in Galen’s eyes.

  “You still beat him, boy!” Flit grumbled, finally gulping down that bread with a swig of wine from his goblet. Both Leto men did like their wine, one more than the other even if he didn’t want it this early in the morning.

  “You’re a fool, father. I shan’t be a warrior, the scars aren’t appealing to women.” The boy stated firmly, he did not want to be in the thick of combat.

  “Lies I say, l-lies! Women love the scars! Nat loved my scars, was her favorite thing after my hair went!” His father stuttered on the word lies, which made Galen smirk before scowling at the remembrance of his mother.

  Natie of the House Adder was the third born daughter of Lord Daved Adder, she was brother to the current Lord Edmund the Bck. Uncle Ed was a menocholic Eastern man, that’s why he’s called the Bck. Galen did not understand where his uncle’s grief came from, and did not care. He hardly saw the Adders since they were from a different realm in Soren compared to himself, they were still allies though since Galen was a cousin to the future lord-to-be Barron Adder. Galen and Barron were friendly, though it infuriated Galen each time that Barron beat him joust, which was most everytime they did one so Galen made it a habit not to joust Barron. Instead Galen made sure to duel Barron because he was the better sword.

  “Disgusting, I do not wish to hear what mother liked about you.” Galen grumbled, he did not like thinking about mother at all. She was gone, no point dwelling on the past.

  “You are a prude, why? You are a man whore and half the men in the realm know it, it’s disgraceful.” Flit knew about his son’s exploits in a brothel, most people did. Galen tried to believe he didn’t care but it still hurt to think that his father thought so lowly of him because he had needs that only the opposite sex could cater to.

  “Don’t call me that! You don’t know me, you don’t control my life!” He was outraged, he couldn’t believe his father was talking to him like this. He does not get to call me a floozie.

  “You will be a warrior!” Flit firmly stated this, like a fact. Galen did not fear his father’s wrath, even in times when he should.

  “No, You can’t make me, I won’t and I sha-” Galen was cut off.

  “Silence!” His father’s voice drowned Galen’s out or perhaps his voice just quivered into submission, the boy gulped.

  “Life isn’t about wants or won’ts, you will do your duty when you’re a Lord. Even if it means charging into battle with steel in your hand. Our steel! Arakean Steel!” Flit told him, firmly. The Leto’s did have their own Arakean Steel bde, and had it ever since they arrived on the shores of Soren. “You will have that duty to your men, and your honour. If you cannot fight for your men, they will not fight for you, boy.” Flit was no stranger to battle, being Duke Braun’s chief general when a battle arised.

  Galen pouted . My skin is too soft for scars. “Fine, father. I will bear our steel and ride to war if the day arises.” He finally gave up and yielded to father’s demands.

  “Good. You have talents, you’re a smart d and capable in a fight, if you use those in warfare, you’ll go far.”

  “Father, I already know I am destined for greatness. Whilst the praise is nice, it is not needed.” Galen shrugged, smirking like a right little prick. He had a smarmy smile.

  “Don't be cocky, you cock. You don’t know anything, you know how to swallow wine and pay for whores.” Flit’s tone was less jesting and more annoyed.

  “I’ve studied history, philosophy, and warfare. Tis’ I who has trained with sword, nce, spear, broke even the most untameable horses. I know a few things, father.” He retorted, swagger in his tone.“Keep talking like that and you know nothing, son. Eat” Galen smirked, he took a sip of wine. Oh sweet Narvosi wine, how I've missed you dearly. I know I take whores and girls into my bed, but you, oh sweet Narvosi wine, will be my one true love. The Heir with great hair took some white bread from a tray, it was mildly warm still. He picked up a knife and sliced it into thirds, Galen was not ripping and tearing it like his father, he spread honey butter over the slices before pcing some ham and cheese on top of the bite sized pieces. He eagerly broke his fast and devoured the cheesy, meaty and bready goodness.

  It is good to be me, Galen thought. He chewed hungrily, shoving the other two ham and cheese covered pieces of bread down his gullet and started speaking before he had swallowed. He ate like a starving boy in the slums of Faeton. “Isn’t uncle coming today, are the servants making things nice?”

  “Yes, Tan is coming and yes the servants are setting up the halls for a feast. And don’t spit your food at me whilst you talk.” His father grumbled the words. Flit was a hypocrite, rhat bugged Galen but not enough to warrant a thought or a word about it.

  “You aren’t pleased, I take it?”

  “Pleased? Why would I be pleased! I haven’t spoken to the man in three winters and then he sends a raven out of the blue demanding a feast for his return home! No doubt he'll be gone in a fortnight's time, so why bother!”

  “He’s your brother, and my uncle. Act a little pleased that you’ll be seeing your darling baby brother.”

  “Brother, hmph, bah humbug!”

  “Alia, you’re breeches have really been shit in, eh?”

  “Language!”

  “Right, right. You’re breeches have really been poo’d in, eh?”

  “Hmph.” Flit frowned. Galen chuckled, sipping some wine and letting it wet the old whistle. He let out an approving hum in reaction to the sweet fvour of wine.

  “Won’t the guests be arriving soon?”

  “Any hour now.” Flit murmured, mudanely. Guests had been trickling in as the days of Tanner’s arrival grew closer. The party of men arriving had timed it nicely so they’d arrive on the same day as Tanner.“Any hour? You could have told me! Gave me time to prepare.”

  “You look fine. And you were busy, you and I both know that.” His father rolled his eyes and Galen responded with a nod and a slight frown before responding.

  “Will our Lord Braun be there?

  “Duke, it’s our Duke Braun. And yes, he better well be there. I told him about the feast two full moons ago, that’s more than enough time for him to ride here.” Lucian Braun was the most boring man in Soren, Galen could feel his hairline recede every time he spoke with gent.

  “I was hoping you’d wouldn’t say that, I despise that short little nitwit.”

  “He’s my liege! He’s yours too. One day you’ll be taking orders from him.”

  “Not if he dies first, here's hoping for that. I have fingers crossed and heart knotted into a bow for it to happen, hand of the Titans be my witness.” Galen gave a little praying hand gesture to the sky, letting out a small ugh.

  “Don’t use our creator's name in vain, especially for a jape!” Flit was not truly a zealous man, just cautious at the possibility of offending the ones who may have created them.

  “Right, father. I forgot you had a big hardon for the Tidon and the specks of dust that are our mighty Titans.” Flit did not respond, sitting in sullen anger. Galen chuckled, amused at his fathers sulkiness. “My father, quite the little zealot. Lies, I have no doubt of it. Father could never believe in the gods or Titans. Father, don’t slouch like that. It will give you bad posture. And don’t frown, if you do it too often your face will stay that way.”“Don’t mock me, boy!”

  Galen’s eye twitched as his father belted out his reply, spittle firing out like shrapnel from his fathers mouth. Then the bell was tolled, to signify the arrival of a guest, or guests. Please be uncle Tan, Galen hoped.

  “I suppose I shall go and greet our dear guests, care to join me father?”

  “No.” Flit murmured gruffly. Thank the Titans. Galen got up from his seat and walked to the door. He slouched, the same thing he chided his father for. Mother did not like slouchers. He entered the blue carpeted floors of the hallway and walked past the portraits until he reached the grand oaken doors, engraved into the door were owls. The owl was the animal of House Leto, for some reason. Why do we not have an owl on our sigil and not a man pushing a boulder up a hill, Galen pondered. Two strapping guards were by the door, carrying swords on their belts and shields on their back. They were a foot taller than Galen, outweighed him yet Galen would put twelve silver crownlets and one gold sterling that he could beat them in a duel.

  A conniving grin blue cloaked guardsman by the door did nothing to help the Lord’s son with the door, revelling in the fact that Galen had to push it open himself. Galen assumed that they must just be bored at work. Gale sighed and pushed the door opened, a surprisingly tough task. Perhaps I do need to eat more.

  The sun gred right into Galen’s green eyes, they adjusted quickly to the blinding white light and he saw the gates to the Castle being opened by the guards of the gate. A bck stallion trotted in, with his uncle Tanner Leto ontop of it. The bellman was outside the gates and continued to ring his bell at full fury before stopping and clearing his throat to begin speaking. The Bellman was a man into his fifties, ruddy faced and plump body. He had thinning red hair with specks of gray and white littered about his scalp.

  “M’lords, finally meeting at st. I am pleased to announce the arriv-” Conrad stuttered out before Galen cut it off. Galen understood the appeal of cutting someone off mid-sentence, no wonder father does it so often.

  “Silence, Conrad! We know who’s here!” Galen shouted at Conrad Bellington, the Bellingtons were a minor house sworn to the Leto’s. The first Bellington had been in service to Lord Lenin Leto, being a street urchin Storm who ter became Lenin’s squire and cupbearer just because Lenin just quite liked the kid’s attitude. Lenin then knighted the man, and the Storm took the Bell for his sigil. And over a hundred years ter, they still served faithfully to their overlords.

  “I apologise m’lord, I just wished to announce the arrival.” Conrad sputtered out, a nervous wreck.

  “If I was a worse man , I could have you flogged for talking back to the heir, but since I’m not we’ll let it go just this once. Now flee please, dear Conrad.” Galen smiled and the Bellington bellman quickly walked away with his tail between his legs. Nervous fool.

  “You’re too hard on the old man, he fears you.” Tanner shouted from ahorse, he was the pinnacle of handsomeness and his nephew the spitting image of him. Tanner had long, tied back, golden-brown hair, a short cropped beard, strong aquiline nose, and a few scars adorned to his face like armor. Tanner wore bck boiled leather.

  “As he should be. Aren’t you a bit hot in all that bck, and all that leather?” Galen was more than pleased to finally be seeing his uncle after so many winters away.

  “Yes, I am. A small price to pay to look good though, nephew. Good to see you, of course.” Tanner had a most splendid smile, a smile that came from a long line of glorious smiles. Uncle Tan dismounted from his stallion.

  “Shame you made the bellman scram, I could have used his help to hitch my horse.” Tanner told his nephew whilst he took off his riding gloves, he grabbed the reins of his horse.

  “Time away made you zy, too zy to hitch your own horse? It’s a ten second job.” Galen responded with his own wondrous smile to match his uncle.

  “Yes, I am too damn zy. What’s the point of having that damn bellman around if not to hitch my horse.” Uncle and nephew began walking to the hitching post by the Fort.

  “To ring his bells, maybe, just a guess though? Where have you been to get oh so zy, unc.”

  “Oh you know, here, there. Around mostly.” Tanner shrugged, he had collected a vast new number of scars from his time on the road. It was one of the few differences between uncle and nephew, Galen’s skin was fwless, Tanner’s nephew could not grow a beard and Tanner weighed three stone heavier but it was three stone of muscle.

  “Oh yes! I believe I’ve visited all those pces, that’s not vague.” Galen gave his father’s baby brother a sarcastic smile.

  “What? I don’t stick around most pces ever long.”

  “Pnning on sticking around here long enough though.”

  “Don’t be a pillock, nephew.”

  “I jape, I jape.” Galen smirked, he knew his uncle pnned on sticking around long enough for free ale and his pick of the Lesin whores before going off on his merry way, Better not choose my Becca.

  “I’ve been fighting mostly, fighting and fucking,” Tanner let out a breathy snicker.

  “Story of my life. Fighting for yourself, honor, coin?”

  “What else do you fight for?” His uncle responded dryly.

  “I don’t know why you bother with that life, being the rogue uncle with a bde in hand.” Galen didn’t see the appeal of being a nomad, new pces and new girls. The freedom seemed nice, the choice of variety nicer but Galen wanted something reliable, something like Becca.

  “Well, I had to do something. I couldn’t just sit around and wait to see if you and your father died. And I didn’t want to be wed to some second daughter of some prick of a Lord.”

  “Ever thought you might enjoy the company of me and father?”

  “No, not for a second. Your father is dreadfully dreary and you are … well you.” Tanner titled his head as he spoke that st part, Galen felt bristled.

  “Bah humbug me then, you grouch.” He rolled his eyes at Tanner. “Ever thought we’d enjoy your company?”

  “Yes actually. That’s why I’m here.”

  “And not for the free food?” The pair continued walking, eventually stopping at the wooden hitching post. The hitching post was made of apple wood, oiled and smelled surprisingly good despite the fact that horses shit less than a meter away from it.

  “There’s going to be free food? Lucky me.”

  “You asked for a feast, don’t py coy.” Galen leaned against the hitching post, trying to act casual.

  “I’d cim snder if it wasn’t so true.” The pair chuckled whilst Tanner hitched his well behaved horse, the stallion must have been quite well trained.

  “Father will be pleased to see you, he’s said nothing but praise at his baby brother’s return.”

  “Ha, don’t lie. I know my brother and that is not him, I can handle some less than politeness from family.”

  “Right. The guests shall be arriving soon.” Galen was quite dreading a feast, he preferred drinking alone.“They’re all coming here on the same day, that seems well timed.”“Well some lords arrived a few days ago, they’ve been staying in the guest rooms.”

  “Cramping your style, eh? Must be rough, I do hope that Duke Braun isn’t here.”

  “Not yet, he will be arriving within the coming hours.”

  “Stab me now and bury me in a whorehouse.”

  “I think the whores prefer to call it a brothel.”

  “Well I don’t care what they prefer, whores live in a whorehouse. It’s in the name, a whore’s house.”

  “They also prefer to be called courtesans.”

  “Only the fancy ones, boy. Nothing beats a good whore. And if a cheap whore tries to call herself a courtesan, then get rid of her. They’re whores for Alia’s sake. They need to stop trying to dress up their whorey lifestyles.”

  “Didn’t realize whores got you so worked up, Uncle Tanner.”

  “In more ways than one. They’re the Titans gift to man.” That was a sentiment that both uncle and nephew shared, Becca is the Titans gift to mankind.

  “Alia’s daughters pleasing Alia’s sons, the Titans have no hand in it.”

  “Well praise Alia then, give her my props when you drink yourself into an early grave.”

  “I’ll make sure of it, it’ll be on the top of my list of things to do in the frost.” Galen murmured before they finally walked inside Fort Lenin.

  The guests had fully arrived and taken their seats in the hall as the sunset, and Galen was deep into his ninth gss of Narvoshi red wine. He was majorly out of his depth in a room with hundreds, Galen was just another face in the crowd and no one noteworthy to anyone who gave a gaze upon the guests.

  “So I tell Lord Manner that he’s sitting in the wine-soaked seat!” Duke Braun let out a ugh as he told his comedic anecdote to the people on his table, one of these people unfortunately being Galen. Kill me now , Galen thought as he took a hearty swig on wine from his gss. He grabbed the decanter of Narvoshi red and poured himself more, Galen would need it to suffer through another insufferable tale from his dear liege.

  “So did the Lord Manner need to change his breeches?” Uncle Tanner asked Lucian Braun, with enough eutheism as he could muster. The Duke’s own wife and fourteen year old daughter, who were all on the table, all looked enraptured at the story. Flit, meanwhile, was going heavy on the mead.

  “Yes he did! The wine soaked straight from breeches to braies, it was most humorous.” The Duke procimed with a big grin on his face. Lucian was a man into his thirties, pock scarred, with a twisty and curly moustache and small forked goatee. The Duke was a comely man, sort of. “Say, enough about me and Mister Manners! What about you, Lord Leto? How’s the boy!” He procimed to Flit, who was more focused on the intricate details of the wooden table than his liege.

  Galen perked up and said, “The boy is fine, and not so much a boy anymore.” He just couldn’t help himself. Tanner shot his nephew a gre, one that Galen expected would come from his father.

  “Good answer, I like a boy who takes initiative. You’ll be a commander, that’s what commanders need in combat. Initiative. You don’t look too much like a warrior, but that’s fine. Great commanders weren’t good warriors.” Lucian decred to his family, only really using Galen as a means to continue his irritating chatter. Boy? Why must it always be boy, I’m a man. It was like Lucian did not even notice that he called Galen boy.

  “Believe me, Lucian, I’m a fine warrior. Better than you, I’d wager.” Galen responded to his overlord, sporting a gre on his brow. That comment roused Flit from his cups and into annoyance.”

  “The boy is drunk and talking nonsense, lots of codswallop.” Flit hastily assured Lucian. The Duke ughed off Galen’s comment, not taking it as an insult.

  “Don’t worry, Lord. I know the boy is deep in his cups. Though he’s got guts.” Braun smiled, he made a gnce towards his own daughter. Lillian Braun was a petite girl, red-haired and freckled, quite pretty really. “So, Lord Flit, your son has yet to marry. Surprising to say the least.”

  “Marriage doesn’t seem all too good, being strapped to a single dy and a pompous one at that. I barely handle being around my father, and he’s hardly a member of nobility. I’d rather marry a whore.” Galen told Lucian, already knowing what he's pnning to suggest. Gale was slurring his words. He took another big swig. Marrying a whore would be nice, suppose I wouldn’t want her to stay a whore though. Becca in fine silks, Lady Becca Leto. He smiled like a fool at the thought.

  “The boy is only saying that because a whore is all he’s like to get, I was just the same when I was his age.” Tanner told Lucian with a ugh, it was all one big joke to the men, it was quite a serious thought for the boy. Galen scowled, being insulted for ughs didn’t suit him.

  “Whores, what a terrible thing. I’m gd you’ve grown out of it, Sir Tanner. A wandering knight’s life is a life of celibacy of course, aye.” Braun was blissfully unaware of Tanner being Galen but older and less drunk. Or perhaps Braun was blissfully aware of what Tanner was. “You never married Sir?” Braun asked this as a question.

  Tanner shook his head. “Married to the bde, married to helping the little folk out, married to the roads less travelled.” He ughed, then Lucian ughed before finishing with the girl's ughter. They’re his p dogs, copying his every move.

  “My little Lillian isn’t wed yet, waiting for the right match we suppose.” Braun told Tanner as the food was being set out. Pork sausages, mprey pie, spiced potatoes and some fried bread and butter. Good for the health , Galen thought as the dishes were being served. His focus turned from the hearty food to the beautiful serving girl, Arakean by the looks of her.

  Golden eyes, bronze skin and raven hair, a rare Arakean beauty. Galen smiled dreamily at her whilst she gave out the dishes.

  “Any day now.” Tanner japed to Lucian, Tanner picked up his silver fork and began tucking into his food. He pierced at the pork sausage and began eating, though Lucian was scoffing sausage and pie down his gullet like no tomorrow.

  “Just like with your nephew!” The Duke spouted to Tanner, pastry and pork flying out of mouth. Lucian took a big swill of mead to wash down the food. Lillian and her mother were hardly eating.

  “Not really. I doubt I’ll marry tomorrow, or the next day, or the one after that.” Galen murmured as he picked at his food. He was full from breakfast, and those greasy sausages look a tad too filling for him.

  “But on the fourth day, mayhaps?” Lucian had swallowed his fatty foods and looked at Galen inquisitively “You never know.”

  Galen rolled his eyes. “I’d rather slit my wrists or let my throat be torn at by a wolfman than marry in four days time, Duke Braun.” He drowned the rest of his wine and began to refill it.

  “Bloody drunkard, I just thought it would be nice.” The Duke responded, Galen finally seemed to think that Lucian was taking the hint.

  “Nice? You thought it would be nice?” Galen murmured before drowning his throat in wine. “I’ll tell you what would be nice, lying with a thousand whores instead marrying some snotty little brat.” He let out a dry ugh. Both his father and uncle were gring at the drunken boy.

  “If you keep talking like that, I won’t want you to marry my daughter.” Lucian grumbled.

  Galen let out another stifled ugh. “So it’s in my best interest to keep talking like this. I don’t want to marry your daughter, especially if she’s half as painfully boring as you are.” Lillian seemed a tad hurt, her mother more so.

  A pile of voices rose, but the Duke’s was the one that Galen heard. “Don’t you dare insult me! Or my daughter, you putrid little drunkard! If I was your father, I would have thrown you in the workhouse years ago.” Didn’t realize our Duke Braun had a backbone, Galen smiled at the bristled Duke.

  “Perhaps he should have, but he didn't, so here I am.” The Duke was about to explode with rage until Galen decided to rise from his seat. By now, people had turned their heads to look at the mess unfolding between the Lord-to-be and his future overlord. Galen’s face was flush because of the wine, and he knew he needed air and needed to be away from the furious Duke. He turned around as got up, in a half sprint and knocked into the quite pretty serving girl who was carrying a tray with a fgon of wine on it. The fgon was knocked over in the ensuing collision, soaking both lord and wench in red wine. Galen’s flushed redder than the wine that stained his pristine clothes, he tried to sputter out an apology, “I’-I’m so-sorry.” He murmured as people began to ugh. The Arakean serving girl was soaked, her nipples visible through her shirt because of the wine that soaked it. She covered up her bodice before trying to pick up the tray and fgon that was on the floor.

  Galen debated trying to help her but the ughter was deafening, pounding in his ears like a drum so he faced the door and hurried out of the feasting hall. Tears were welling in his eyes, he didn’t know why, it was not that bad in truth but that thought only made the tears pour out further. He sprinted through corridor after corridor before reaching the rge oaken doors to the outside.

  Cold, crisp air hit him, freezing , Galen thought. Snow fell lightly, melting as soon as it hit the ground or his skin but still cold to Western boys like Galen. He turned and slowly walked to the postern, hoping, wishing that someone would race after him, to tell him it was alright. But when he reached the postern and slipped out of the castle's wall and into the bustling city in the twilight, he realized no-one was coming for him. He was alone.