Loupgaros
Joined: 05 Apr 2006
Posts: 151
Location: In a gay man's ass
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 Posted: Sun Jun 25, 2006 8:36 am Post subject: Armando's Story |
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Part One: The Downfall Begins…
Outside the city, on the road leading to the gate, a lone figure rode. His horse was as black as his apparel and its haste seemed unusual. It was as if the legions of hell were after him, albeit invisible. As he approached, the clouds gathered and rain fell in a deluge, swamping the muddy road. The rider ignored it, as if it was no more than an annoying interruption.
Stokk had enjoyed the quiet sun of a fine day, but the sudden rain had put paid to that. It dripped off the roofs, made deep puddles in the street and dampened anyone and anything it hit.
A lot of this sort of thing had happened recently. Broadsheets on street corners (sheltered ones) proclaimed the freak weather to be of divine origin, punishing the citizens of Stokk for their lack of religiosity. “Now is the time to make amends,” speakers would cry. “Now is time to convert to the Dragon before it is too late!” As expected, most passers-by ignored their exhortations.
Today was cattle day, the time when the cattle markets opened for bidding. Thankfully it was indoors. Wealthy farmers (and this market was usually for the wealthy owing to the prices) would gather and bid for some of the best bulls or cows the city had gathered. Farmers knew them by name and battles would turn fierce. Hence a Watch guard was placed.
Tobias Phinn was one of the wealthiest farmers the city had ever seen. He was an absentee farmer, employing others to work for him on his estate outside the city while he sorted the affairs and finances of his farm in the snug confines of a huge house. Despite this he dressed modestly as befits a merchant of modern day Stokk. He had risen through the ranks but laws on status prevented him from taking the dress of the landed gentry. He also found it helpful to deter thieves who might be after his considerable purse.
He knew what he was bidding for. There was a handsome bull he had seen, strong of limb and spirit. His best prize bull had died only a month before of disease and he wasn’t keen to repeat that again. Unfortunately, his opponent was in the same straits as he was. He glared at a fat vulpine sitting across from him. Although people stood, sitting was for those too weak (he smiled at this thought) or corpulent to stand. Vulpinos Servitas was definitely the latter.
Even his name was made up. It was ridiculous that he had to make up his own name to be noticed. Tobias never got himself noticed. It did no good.
Tobias smiled to himself as he remembered the money he had to play with. He was in the black this year. His rival couldn’t se his smile underneath his bushy whiskers.
The horse approached the cattle market. The rider pulled it short and quickly read the broadsheet. His pale eyes, behind two pieces of dark glass, took in the words. He turned his attention away from it then spurred the horse into a mad gallop.
Something was happening. There was a thunder of horses’ hooves on the cobbles and he saw the crowds melt before a strange figure. How strange, he thought, that even in this weather there was a figure who could persuade eager crowds to part for him.
It was a fox; of that there could be no doubt. But he was certainly strange in his appearance. He was white-grey with slightly long ears and no points. He wore assassins’ black and bristled with weapons of every type. His horse was black and demonic-looking. It almost glared at the crowds.
Finally the fox stopped. Tobias looked up and was surprised to see his eyes covered with darkened glass. He was blind. Nevertheless he had a penetrating stare. Tobias could say nothing.
“I think I’m lost. Could you tell me the way to the Thorneycroft estate?” His voice was a whisper but it was audible. He spoke with no inflection so it sounded more like an order than a question. His accent was familiar: he was clearly a native of the Northern Duchies.
Tobias pulled himself together and pointed down the street. “Just keep going. It’s on the end. You can’t miss it, it’s the white building.” He scolded himself mentally. How could this creature see colour? But then, he had got this far, so how could that be?
By the time he had composed himself the stranger had gone. Tobias looked after his direction with a bemused expression and shrugged. He had an auction to go to.
The fox galloped through the street into the wealthy sector of town. Here the cobbles were less worn and there were carriage tracks deeply ingrained at the edges of the road. It widened out into a fan shape, paths leading to the great estates.
The fox stopped and looked about until he sensed the white building and rode towards it, taking a leisurely pace. The horse seemed thankful for it. The rain eased off at last but he failed to notice his wet clothing. It was often wondered if he noticed anything.
Getting into the grounds was easy. He just rode in as if he owned the place. The gate was unguarded, but even if there had been guards, they would have let him pass. How could you throw out such a character without reasonable explanation? His aura commanded respect.
The guardian was not so easy to fool. He had seen it all before. To him it was the I-have-authority-to-come-here trick. The Minotaur instinctively knew how to deal with him. He glared at the stranger with arms crossed firmly.
“I told you, you have to prove you are here on business. Otherwise I’ll have you thrown out.”
The fox cocked his head to one side and reached into a pocket. The guardian eyed his paw warily until he saw the fox was holding a letter. The seal was broken.
“This is to prove you’re welcome, right?” The guardian was smug. He had seen forgeries before. This was easy.
He read it and almost dropped the letter. He paled visibly and looked as if he was going to gag violently. “I am so sorry, I had no idea you were here on business…”
The fox raised a paw, his lips drawn in a permanent smile. “No matter, my friend. But, should this happen again, I have no choice but to inform your superior of the misdemeanour.”
The guardian nodded vigorously and hastily let him in.
Even though he was blind, he could tell there was an attendant showing him up to the rooms of the master of the house. The house was opulent and typical of many country houses. The walls were white marble and the floor was marble effect with red carpet. Statues of Thorneycrofts, past and present, adorned the walls and niches.
It was stunning but the fox dismissed it all. This was transient. Wealth passed like the breeze. One minute you could be the founder of a company or enterprise, successful and well regarded: the next moment, you could be scrabbling on the streets looking for food to last the day. Yes, he thought, wealth was not a great decider. This Thorneycroft would learn that lesson soon enough.
He was taken into an audience chamber, again richly decorated and sat down in a comfortable chair. He was told his lordship would see him soon if he would wait a moment. The fox nodded and waited. He was good at waiting.
Finally the present lord Thorneycroft revealed himself.
Lord Henry Thorneycroft was the present incumbent. He was a slightly porcine wolf who had seen a few good dinners and not enough hunting. He wore elegant (on someone else) robes and his paws were full of rings. He had a gold chain around his throat, consisting of a large gem. He offered a paw to the fox and shook his, thinner by comparison, paw.
“Ah, Armando, I am so pleased you could come. I hope the guardian didn’t give you trouble?” His voice wasn’t just loud, it was booming. Armando, as he was addressed, winced slightly.
“The journey was fine. The guardian didn’t give me too much trouble, although he was slightly heavy-handed.” Armando sat back, glad to be away from him. He had the odour of someone who had not bathed for years.
Lord Thorneycroft flopped into the couch and waved for wine. “It is Armando, isn’t it? Your language isn’t the easiest to pronounce.” He took a goblet from the tray proffered by the attendant and drank deeply.
Armando sipped the wine delicately and almost coughed at its strength. “It is pronounced Armande, my lord. Many people make that mistake.”
Thorneycroft shrugged. “I’ll just call you Armando. I have no truck with languages. Now I haven’t come to talk about your native tongue. I want to discuss business with you. I want you to kill someone.” He stood up and paced the room, his intent clear in his tone. Armando sat still and listened. He knew this wolf to be a blustery sort already, but at least he got to the point.
“I have… a problem with my neighbour. In fact, it is more than a minor issue.” He turned to Armando and set his face into a determined expression, as if he was having trouble composing himself. “An offshoot of my family, the Crofters, are causing trouble and are only too glad to see me go. My father died many years too early because of their witchcraft.” He looked strained at this point and clenched a paw tightly.
“My half-brother, Haller, is the most murderous. He can put hexes on people and get away with it. He also loves the province of Hanovar. That is why you are here. He loves your language, your customs, everything. I know you can get through to him and winkle out his weaknesses.” He whirled on Armando suddenly, a pleading look in his eye. “I am counting on you, Armando.”
The fox had heard enough for the moment. “I shall do my best. He may have an early distrust of me, though. Is there any way to break the ice before I explore further?” This didn’t stop him. He wouldn’t say but getting to know people in seconds was his forte. Everyone he met soon let him into his or her lives.
At this, Thorneycroft was positively excited. “I am holding a special feast tonight. I have invited them, Haller and his trollop Armenia. They will be suspicious of me but get to know them. They don’t know you and you can exploit your roots effectively. He has a great weakness for Hanovarian Teutons.”
No sooner than a few minutes later, Armando was shown to his room. It was simple as he had demanded and fitted his meagre possessions easily. He opened a bag and took out his eveningwear, black tinged with red frills. He liked black but he would have to add the colour. Many would wear black so he had to stand out for Haller to see him. Besides black and red were the colours of the Hanovar national flag, a black hawk on a red background. He had it all planned. He had practically anticipated a feast, though not so early.
It was a few hours later. Dinner was early, as the feast was not until later. It was more of a light snack than anything else but Thorneycroft took the opportunity of examining his assassin.
To Thorneycroft, Armando was strange and exotic. There was something in his calm and deliberate manner that suggested he was a firework about to go off. No one could be that controlled. He was not the prettiest sight in the world but he had… What was it? Charisma? It was a strange sort. Did all Teutons have that appeal?
He read the latest broadsheet while surreptitiously sneaking looks at his new servant. He wasn’t bad, was he? Maybe if he could catch him in the right circumstances… Hold on, why was he thinking that? He had been happily married and liked women as much as the next male specimen you pointed at. So why was he thinking he could have his way with this new fellow?
He shook his head and thought of Haller. Haller hated anyone who showed signs of even liking the same gender. Perhaps he would get a taste of his own medicine. He almost smiled gleefully. Haller would have to hate himself. Maybe that would push him over the edge. Thorneycroft hoped so.
He checked to see if Armando was looking in his direction but he was intently slicing open his bread with surgical precision.
He made his excuses and hurriedly left to go the nearest bidet. It would be very embarrassing for him if Armando discovered him.
Armando never looked up but his smile became more pronounced. He had this effect on every one of both genders. Henry Thorneycroft was a wolf ruled by his passions. He should, realistically speaking, be easy to charm.
He turned his attention to the bread and delicately placed a slither of cheese on it. It was precisely two millimetres thin. Armando liked nothing better than precision.
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So as to avoid confusion with my typing, I am female but mostly male online.
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