₦airaland Forum

Welcome back Mr. Kayo. Nice update as usual.

You're doing a good job, ride on sir. By the way, you wrote rolls (paragraph 4, line 1) and role (paragraph 4, line 3) instead of rows and row respectively.

Wow, Mr. Foxy na you be dis? It's nice to have you back sir.

This is deep. Well-done Purples.

I thoroughly enjoyed your story. You did a great job bro.

Kitme:
Divepen1 yaff vex..
*mouth sealed*

BTW, where is vantee20??

*Raises hand*

Vantee20 is here. Check your mailbox if you please.

LarrySun:
Well, I've learned to read terrible comments made by people who may not know what they are saying, smile at their ignorance, and move on. I have nothing to prove to anyone. I just do my thing. Everyone is entitled to his opinion, no matter how preposterous.

I found this comment too spot on to ignore. Well said sir.

Good job Uncutz, really good job. . Patiently waiting for the next update. .

stuff46:
I thought it was another update...

I'm still editing the next chapter. . But then my enthusiasim has waned a little with the lack of feedback on the last update. . . Anyways, thanks for sticking around, you are one of the very few reasons I still put this story up here.

olanshile2016:
finally catch up with you,nice one bro

Welcome sir. .

stuff46:
Failure always has its price in war.

Very true. .

* * *

Sir Millicent walked into the study at Alton Manor to find Dunstan looking through the long rows of books on the magnificent shelf at the eastern corner of the room. Although Riana had informed him on his way up that a long haired man with a hooked nose was waiting for him, it still felt strange having Dunstan there.

"I didn't know you are given to reading," Sir Millicent remarked as he walked deeper into the room.

Dunstan turned and gave a slight shrug, "The mind has to stay nourished."

Sir Millicent settled in a chair and asked, "What brings you here?"

Dunstan returned the book he was holding and walked over to settle in a chair opposite Sir Millicent's, "Well, Our fort at Cevout was attacked by some jackals and the Prince escaped in the course of the fighting."

"I see," Sir Millicent said casually.

"You see?" Dunstan repeated in surprise. "Why, I thought you would be concerned that the Prince could come hitherward and ruin all your plans."

"No, I'm not worried about that. I have it planned out already. If anything, I'm only disappointed that your so called stronghold could not hold out against a simple attack."

"What can I say? It was in a moment of weakness. We were having the inmates games when they struck."

"And all the gold, liquor and ladies inhibited your defense eh?"

"You can say that again. Where is Finn?" Dunstan asked, changing topics tactfully.

"He's at a physician's. He is indisposed," Sir Millicent replied. Before Dunstan could get a word out, he added, "Follow me, there is something I would love you to see."

Sir Millicent led Dunstan down a long flight of stairs and through a very long alley. Just as Dunstan was beginning to wonder if they were going to the other end of the world, Sir Millicent stopped. He produced the key to a locked vault from the breast pocket of his ermine coat and opened the creaky door.

"This is my private army," Sir Millicent announced, indicating the endless rows of phantoms that filled the room.

"Impressive," Dunstan commented as he feasted his eyes on the smart looking soldiers. "Where did you get them?"

"I bought them from a Persian general."

"They don't mind staying here?"

"They have no choice," Sir Millicent answered. "You want to have a go at it with one of them?"

"Let's see what they can do," Dunstan said as he drew his sword. He probably wouldn't have done this if he knew that the beings before him were not human.

"Thick Beard," Sir Millicent called. A tall, barrel chested phantom with a misty face stepped forward. As far as Dunstan could see, Thick Beard had no beard, leaving him to wonder whence the sobriquet arose. Perhaps he had shaved.

"Attack!"

The big phantom attacked Dunstan with great ferocity. The rebel warlord simply stood no chance against the blinding speed with which the phantom fought. In less than a minute of combat, Thick Beard had disarmed Dunstan and held him up in the air by the scruff of his neck.

"Okay mate, you win. Let me go," Dunstan groaned.

"Thick Beard," Sir Millicent called calmly. "Kill him."







THE END OF CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

* * *

The first thing Prince Galleine saw when his eyes flicked open was image of the Casvillean flag imprinted on the canopy hanging over his bed. The white lion in the flag was silently snarling at him, or so it appeared. Of course, it was his mind playing tricks.

"My lord. . ."

Prince Galleine cocked his head to see Craig, his servant, seated calmly by his bedside and staring into his face.

"My lord, how do you feel now?"

Prince Galleine pulled himself to a sitting position, a low groan escaping his lips as he felt a raging pain all over his bared back.

"Not great, but I'll live," He replied. "How long was I out?"

"Two days and a half."

"Don't tell me I didn't wash in all that time."

"Melissa took care of that sir."

The Prince shook his head and instantly got out of bed. He began making slow, unsteady steps toward the end of the tent where his clothes hung. Craig offered to help but Prince Galleine waved him off.

"My lord, you are not fully recovered. You shouldn't be out of bed yet."

"Don't worry about me. Where is she now, I mean Melissa?"

"The adjacent tent. She spent the whole night here and I only prevailed on her a while ago to go and catch some sleep for herself."

"Ah," The Prince said absently. By now, he had slipped into a brown shirt and tight fitting leather pants. "How did I get out of Cevout alive?"

"Some warriors came along after you became unconscious. They somehow freed the prisoners there and let them fight the rebels. They used the diversion to get us out."

"Who is us?" Prince Galleine asked as he laced his combat boots.

"You, Melissa, Alan, your knight friends and I."

"What of that bastard Dunstan?"

"He disappeared in the middle of the er bedlam," Craig answered.

"Among the group of warriors, is there one of them of average height that fights with two swords and has long hair??"

"Certainly sir, how did you know that?"

"A hunch. The chap seems to always come around when I'm in trouble. Where is he now?"

"His tent is opposite this one but I don't think I've seen him around since yesterday."

"He always seem to disappear afterwards too," Prince Galleine mumbled to himself. "Do you know who he is?"

"His name is Marcus. I don't know anything else asides that."

The Prince nodded darkly. He was now fully dressed, having slipped on a pair of leather gloves and a cloak.

"I'll be back soon." He told Craig as he strode out of the tent.

The air outside was cold, Prince Galleine thought as a light breeze hit him. He looked round the camp, there were six tents arranged to form a semicircle. Beyond the camp was a tract of densely growing trees. Whoever had chosen this camping site had a good deal of military sense. No attack could sneak on them and they could easily take refuge in the woods if threatened.

Prince Galleine knocked on the wooden frame on the tent adjacent the one he just left in a bid to gain admittance. A head poked out a moment later. It was Alan's.

"My lord," He bowed deferentially when he saw the Prince.

The Prince nodded in acknowledgement. "I came to check on your sister."

"She is sleeping inside. . ."

The noisy approach of a rider from the woods diverted Prince Galleine's attention from the remainder of Alan's speech. The sound of the incoming horseman attracted other people in the surrounding tents. A young man with a mass of frizzed hair popped out of a tent nearby, followed by another armed man whom the Prince instantly recognised as Sir Harding. A dark lady sprang out of a tent opposite that one.

Presently, the rider pulled his horse to a stop in the middle of the camp. He was a short, young man with easy features.

"My lord. . ." He curtsied when he sighted the Prince.

"Who are you?" The Prince asked. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see the frizzy haired chap grabbing the hilt of his sword.

"I am Moreau from the palace at Casville. I'm afraid I've brought very bad tidings."

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

Riana walked briskly down the wide central hallway of Alton manor to Lady Suzannah's bedchamber with her long purple robe dragging after her as she took each quick, springy step. She was going to deliver a letter from Finn which had been brought to the manor a while ago by a courier.

A few metres away from the room, Riana began to hear low, sensual sounds of her lady and someone laughing and necking. The maid smiled knowingly, she could bet her left bosom - that's the bigger one - that that someone was Sir Millicent.

She rapped twice on the hard wooded door of Lady Suzannah's chamber. There was silence for a moment, then came a reply, in a loud and clearly irritated, feminine voice.

"What is it Riana?"

She wasn't surprised that her name was called. She was the only maid with enough liberties to come this far. "My lady, I bear a sealed letter from Mister Finn."

"Slip it under the door. I'll pick it."

"Yes my lady," Raina did as her lady bade her and promptly took her leave.

On the other side of the door, Lady Suzannah got off her bed and gracefully walked over to where the letter lay to pick it. Sir Millicent watched in lustful admiration as the elegant lady bent over to pick the sealed note. Her impossible combination of a beautiful face and a divinely shaped body made the quadragenerian, at least in Sir Millicent's sight, the most alluring woman in the city. He knew

"What does it say?" He asked, forcing his eyes off her bosoms.

Lady Suzannah read on for a few more moments before answering, "The expected. He has taken care of Bradeigh. Oh, and he sustained an injury in the course of the mission. He is at Carlen's place for treatment."

"Did he say how bad the injury is?"

"No," She replied as she dropped the letter on a nearby stool and returned to bed. "But it can't be very bad if he was fine enough to hold a quill. This letter was written in his hand."

"True."

"Don't you think it will be great if we eliminate him as well?"

Sir Millicent felt his brows suddenly go up on their own accord. "Why?"

"I just feel the lesser the people who know what has gone under, the better," The lady said with a shrug.

"I don't buy the idea," Sir Millicent objected. "We can't kill him. I have an agreement with his people. Besides, he has proven to be extremely loyal and quite handy."

"You win then," Lady Suzannah conceded. "Yes, I was going to say something serious before the girl came around."

"Is it about Marcus?" Sir Millicent queried. "That's something you have taken very serious in recent times."

"No. Not him. I've taken him out of the picture. We . . ."

"Wait, you mean he's dead."

"No, but he won't be giving us sleepless nights anymore."

"Wow. How did you do that?"

Lady Suzannah smiled expansively, "That's my little secret. Now, I was saying we need to talk about us.."

"Us? You are not pregnant. Are you?"

"No, I'm not. I told you not to worry about that. I was meaning for us to talk about our relationship. I mean, do we really mean something to each other or this is still no more than a fling?"

"Well, I'll say it's an emotional fling, you know, the kind where you get to . . . "

"Come on Mills, be serious."

"Hey, what gave you the impression that I'm joking?" Sir Millicent asked with playful seriousness.

"You heartless bastard," Lady Suzannah said smiling, as she swung a playful punch at his head.

He easily ducked the blow and then replied by pushing her so that she fell on her back onto the bed.

"You could have hit me," He whispered coarsely as he moved to pin her down with his body.

"Oh, I almost forgot. I have to go somewhere," Lady Suzannah said suddenly, pushing Sir Millicent off gently.

"Now?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"I have to meet Lord Harleim at the granary," Lady Suzannah replied as she got off the bed and straighened her robe.

"Lord Harleim again? Why, I have to say you two are getting too close for my liking."

Lady Suzannah chuckled goodnaturedly, "Don't be jealous Mills. All I'm doing is for our good."

Before Sir Millicent could object any further, Lady Suzannah blew him a hasty kiss and bounded out of the room.

honourable356:
This is interesting... Good job!

Thanks sir.

stuff46:
VanTee baba, very good to hear from this story again

It's good to hear from you too bro.

vickkydgreat:
is dis story still on?

It is, sir.

* * *

Lord Bradeigh was stunned. "Why? What wrong did I do?"

"I wouldn't know. All I have is the order to put you down."

"Bu. . But you won't do it right?" Lord Bradeigh asked in a quavering voice. "I'll double her price and leave the city, please."

"Good offer but I can't take the chance. You're not the type I can trust."

"Please Finn, I'll give you everything I own. Just spare."

"No. I . ."

Finn's speech was muted by an unexpected move by Lord Bradeigh. The Lord, who had all the while been crazily brainstorming on how to get out of the deadly situation unscathed, finally settled for a seemingly brilliant idea. He had slipped his hand stealthily into his coat to retrieve a sabre, then in a swift movement, he had buried it in his assailant's chest.

"Scoundrel!" Finn cursed as he experienced a surge of acute pain in his chest. He struggled to maintain his balance in saddle with one hand holding the reins and the other on his bleeding chest. Lord Bradeigh followed up by elbowing Finn in the face, sending him tumbling off his horse onto a huge heap on the sandy floor.

Lord Bradeigh didn't wait to finish off his adversary. He was only intent on getting out of the villian's reach as quick as possible. He violently spurred his horse on, galloping speedily down the dusty road towards the woods.

Finn scrambled up. Lord Bradeigh's unprecedented move had certainly done more than shock him, he thought as he cast his expert eyes on his wound for examination. The sabre had opened a deep gash just above his left breast. A few inches down and the blade would have pierced his heart.

"Not so fast," Finn mumbled as he reached over his shoulder to retrieve his crossbow. He drew the bow and calmly trained his eyes on the hard riding Lord who was almost out of his sight now. Finn knew that he had just one shot and he'd better not miss. Finn drew a deep breath and fired.

He did not miss. The arrow caught Lord Bradeigh in the back of the neck. The nobleman gave a pitiful cry of pain as he fell headlong off his horse's back. Finn walked over to where his victim lay, bleeding profusely from the mouth as he struggled to speak through the excruciating pain barrier.

"Te. . . Tell. . Suza. . ."

"Scoundrel!" Finn repeated as he released another shot betwen Lord Bradeigh's eyes, silencing him forever.

THE END OF CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

* * *

"Run Helena!" Marcus yelled at his leman, who stood rooted to the spot, apparently awestruck by the beastly creature flying towards them.

The Negirrel bared his deadly fangs and wicked looking teeth at the couple. An action that triggered motion in the unwilling Helena. She ran mindlessly towards the woody end of the thicket, then she stopped abruptly.

"Aren't you coming?" She yelled her question.

"Just go, I'll see you in camp."

"I can't leave without you," Helena maintained stubbornly.

"Be sensible, Helena. You being here will only get us both killed."

"Let her stay if she wants. No one is to die, at least not yet," A very familiar voice said behind Marcus. The young warrior took his eyes off his shaken girl and planted it on a bald, middle aged man dressed in an all black attire.

"Malzene! Thank goodness," Marcus said, brightening.

D'Aubriere didn't look as pleased about the reunion. He only gathered his coat around himself and spoke, indicating the Negirrel with a simple nod, "That means a lot of trouble."

"I understand. Perhaps you could help me fend it off with magic and save some bloodshed."

Malzene shook his head slowly, "Alas, it's not here to fight you. It's presence is a divine sign."

Marcus' confused look sufficiently betrayed the fact that he didn't quite follow.

"You seeing the Negirrel now is a sign that you have failed the gods," Malzene continued. "You have disappointed them with your unseriousness with the tasks assigned to you."

Marcus looked more confused for a few moments, then he suddenly seemed to understand, "Oh! I should have gone to the monastry at Carzef to get the sword. I'm sorry. I got caught up with other issues. I can go for it right away."

Malzene shook his head, again, "It's too late. Another man has been given the task to complete."

Marcus looked incredulously at his guide.

"Furthermore, the gods have spoken imprecations upon you. You are accursed for the rest of the days you spend in Casville."

"I can't believe this, how can you let this happen?"

"I have no say in the judgements of the greater beings. I am merely a conveyor of their messages."

"Can't something be done about this?"

"I'm afraid nothing can be done. The only advise I can offer is for you to return to your village to avoid incurring the wrath of the gods any further. Fare thee well, mortal." D'Aubriere said and he instantly faded away from Marcus' sight.

The Negirrel too flew off almost instantly, leaving a disconsolate Marcus and Helena alone in the clearing.

"What now?" Helena asked concernedly.

"You heard him, I have to leave Casville," Marcus replied coldly.

"Where will you go?"

Marcus let out a dry chuckle, "You know, I didn't fall from the sky, I came from somewhere."

"I thought we could. . ."

"Will you just shut up for a while and afford me some thinking time!"

Helena winced. That surely got to her. While she understood that he was in a most unfortunate situation, still she felt that the tantrum was highly uncalled for.

"Never mind then. I will give you plenty thinking time," She declared as she turned her back on him and began to stalk away. "More than you'll know what to do with."

"Where are you going?"

Helena gave no reply. Marcus watched on in rueful amusement as she walked away till she vanished into the woods. He shouldn't have let her go, he knew, but he just didn't feel like he cared anymore. Maybe it was because of Malzene's revelation or maybe he was suddenly sick of having her around or maybe he felt she was one of the reasons he failed in his duty to the gods or maybe. . . Those were possiblities anyways. Only one thing did he know for sure.

He was screwed, big time.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

In a fluid movement of his elegant arm, Lord Bradeigh clapped a black, velvet capotain on his balding dome as he strode out of the premises of the Casvillean citadel into the bubbling Royale street. The move turned out to be of some shrewdness as it saved the nobleman's crown from being scorched by the sweltering rays of the mid-day sun.

Lord Bradeigh piaffed like a lazy horse down the most important street in Casville, his destination being the twin buildings at the end of the street that served as stables for the aristocrats.

"Lord Bradeigh, are you headed to Maine?" A deep, firm voice queried from behind him.

Lord Bradeigh turned to see a man with chubby cheeks and sagging jowls, poking his head out of the window in a compartment of a luxury caravan across the street. He was Lord August, a noble and a prominent member of the Council.

Lord Bradeigh was indeed going to Maine and past experiences showed that Lord August was a most enjoyable travelling company. The last time he had been in that caravan, he had been treated to varieties of excellent food, exotic drinks and delightful girls. Lord Bradeigh decided to decline the tempting offer, he really needed a clear head today.

"No, I'm going to Rosewood," He said instead.

"See you at the next meeting then," Lord August's voice echoed as he withdrew his fat head from sight and the caravan resumed its ride down the street.

Whistling casually, Lord Bradeigh proceeded to the stables to retrieve his white mare and then began a slow, leisurely ride to Maine, taking an alternate route to the one he presumed Lord August's caravan will take.

As he rode further away from the capital of Nersea, his mind drifted from the winding, dusty road and the tall shrubs that lined themselves on its sides, to the happenings of the last few hours. Some crucial events had occured within that short frame of time. Events that brought him tantalizingly close to the future he had always craved.

In the early hours of the morning, the Queen, the last surviving member of King Gavyne's immediate family, had passed away. According to the results of the necropsy conducted by Carlen, the royal physician, she had died from the heavy grief of her husband's death and her son's disappearance. Lord Bradeigh knew, of course, that Carlen's report was anything but true. He was there when Sir Millicent paid three thousand Ciblis to the physician's assistant to poison the monarch.

Some hours later, Sir Millicent raised himself to the status of a god in the sight of Casvillean denizens as he performed a legendary feat of leading a sally with a handful of men against the myriad of savage soldiers and crushing them completely. He further consolidated the already inconceivable victory by beheading Jiarchinn, the infamous savage warlord and delivering the severed head to the Council.

Not very long ago, the council members sat and unanimously agreed to crown Sir Millicent the king of Casville and by extension, the emperor of Nersea. The decision was supposedly triggered by the death of the Queen and Sir Millicent's heroics against the men of savage descent.

Lord Bradeigh was crudely brought back to the present by the noisy approach of a rider behind him. The nobleman half turned in saddle to see a large, clean shaven man dressed in a brown kirtle and matching pantaloons, riding a black stallion towards him.

"Oh Finn, what are you doing this part?" Lord Bradeigh requested.

Finn did not reply until he had gotten considerably close enough. "I've been looking for you everywhere."

"Why? You have something for me?"

"Not me exactly. I'm on Lady Suzannah's errand," Finn replied, his facial expression going dark as he mouthed his next statement. "She sent me to kill you."

Ice4jez:
name one story u finish, and y it's painful is dat u re very good

Haba! I completed the Saviour 1 na. . It pains me too you know, but most times I can't help it

Ice4jez:
he don't finish his stories

Oh ho! When did I become Foxy? .

LarrySun:
Vantee20 is back! Awesome! Please don't stop.

I don't intend to. Thanks for dropping by sir.

Easy4reel:
What do I say now? That the strike should persist? or that you should have time to finish this?............................wait, FINISH UP PERDIFY!

Lol. .

I will sir.