Peace

Peace

Status: Finished

Genre: Fantasy

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Fantasy

Summary

Ten years on from the Shadow Wars peace has seen Severine thrive under the continued leadership of King Titus. Alexander Tor’al has vanished into the footnotes of history while Nathan Drison has retired to the quiet life. For Brent T’elc, Chosen of Heironeous, life has also changed. No longer adventuring beyond the next horizon he has finally found peace in one location. Commander of an army and beloved leader in Land of Zealots he continues to walk the difficult path of Chosen. Yet Brent knows all to well how fickle finding peace can be. I have used the D&D religion of Heironeous and have done so only out of deep and abiding respect and love for it. I have written added my own analects and personality, but have tried to keep as honestly to some materials found in the D&D world as I can. This is, for legal purposes, a fanfiction under the Open Games Licence.

Summary

Ten years on from the Shadow Wars peace has seen Severine thrive under the continued leadership of King Titus. Alexander Tor’al has vanished into the footnotes of history while Nathan Drison has retired to the quiet life.

For Brent T’elc, Chosen of Heironeous, life has also changed. No longer adventuring beyond the next horizon he has finally found peace in one location. Commander of an army and beloved leader in Land of Zealots he continues to walk the difficult path of Chosen. Yet Brent knows all to well how fickle finding peace can be.


I have used the D&D religion of Heironeous and have done so only out of deep and abiding respect and love for it. I have written added my own analects and personality, but have tried to keep as honestly to some materials found in the D&D world as I can. This is, for legal purposes, a fanfiction under the Open Games Licence.

Chapter26 (v.1) - Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: November 02, 2016

Reads: 144

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: November 02, 2016

A A A

A A A

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

 

Brent rubbed his brow and sighed softly. “If you would only pause for a moment-“ he began. “But nothing!” snapped Cleric Taq. “Brent, I am sick of this foolishness! Chosen or not you have duties to the church. Duties to which I intend to hold you!” Red cheeked, the cleric spun to confront the seated paladin. Lifting a bony finger he waggled it severely. “You cannot go around telling people this cock-and-bull story that you’ve concocted.”

 

Frowning Brent raised his eyes and fixed his gaze on the blustering cleric. “I did not say their service was one of high moral fiber, Taq,” he re-iterated again. “However they are a part of our society and I shall not have them treated any differently to the rest of us.”

“Gah!” hissed Taq, pulling his black hair in frustration. “But you didn’t have to quote Analect Two to grab their attention!” Brent snorted and folded his arms. “And I guess you’d suggest I use Analect Thirty-Six instead?” At his companion’s nod Brent’s hand made a fist and slammed loudly onto the arm of his chair. “Damn it, man! Have a heart and a bit of a backbone for a change.” Standing Brent squared his shoulders and faced his opponent. “Prostitutes and grave-diggers are not out to corrupt us! They’re honest men and women who have chosen that line of work for their own reasons – just like you have chosen to go into politics.”

 

The cleric’s eyes glowed dangerously. “I could have you thrown out of the church,” he threatened. “After all you are a paladin- you do His work, not hear His words.” Brent scowled darkly. “Have you forgotten to whom you are speaking?” His hand moved to the hilt of his blade as Taq’s eyes widened. “Do you think our Lord sits idly by not observing what happens around His Chosen?” He shook his head and took a step closer. “I hear His words in my sleep and in my vigils. I have seen His face and obey His commands.” His voice dropped to a deadly whisper and his eyes burned with righteous anger. “Do not threaten me again, priest.” Taq pursed his lips and swallowed. Under his steady glare the cleric’s bluster dissipated.

 

Knowing the fight was over Brent moved to stride past him. He had covered half the distance to the door when he heard Taq groan. “I cannot work with you like this,” Taq admitted at last. “It’s just not right. It goes against the natural order of things.” Brent grunted. “You know where the door is, Cleric Taq. No one is forcing you to stay.” Reaching the door he walked out into the sunlight without a backwards glance.

 

 

 

Jason caught sight of him shortly after. “Hey Brent!” he hollered from the upstairs window. Shielding his eyes Brent craned his neck upwards until he spotted his friend. Giving him a friendly wave he headed towards the spiral staircase. Jason was waiting at the top. “You’ve got to see this,” Jason greeted him. Seeing the scowl Jason caught his shoulders and pulled him to a stop.  Concerned he asked, “Wait a sec - what happened?”

“The no-one-is-more-holy-than-I Taq again,” Brent grumbled. Jason shook his head,

“Damn, what is his problem? What was it about this time?”

“What else?” grunted Brent slinging an arm around Jason’s shoulders, “He doesn’t like the fact I allow most professions to operate here in Zealot.”

“You didn’t cave in, did you?” Jason inquired.  Glancing at his friend’s worried expression Brent grinned slightly. “Don’t worry my friend, your whoring days aren’t over.”

“Ha! As if Aly would let me,” Jason grinned back. “Now as for your own pursuit of pleasure . . .” Jason laughed at the rush of blood to Brent’s face. “Nah he’s not about,” continued Jason. “He’s working somewhere I suppose. Or sleeping it off,” he added lifting his eyebrows suggestively. Chuckling Brent retorted, “You can tease all you like, Jason. My Patrick is enough to keep me satisfied for a lifetime.”

 

Guiding his companion back through the heavy library doors Jason stepped away and riffled through a collection of old books. Nearby Cleric Aamin looked up and caught Jason’s nod. “Oh? That serious, eh?” he commented casually but Brent wasn’t fooled. “Leave it, Jason,” he cautioned gently. Joining him at the table he ran his finger over the dust of a nearby box. “Really must have this cleaned before we lose it to the ages,” he observed quietly, tucking away the information for later. “So why did you bring me here?”

 

“I asked him to, Chosen,” interjected Aamin. Brent smiled and clasped his hand in greeting. “Ah Aamin, so this is where you have been hiding yourself.” The cleric nodded. “Ever since Isabella’s shipment arrived we have been diligently recording, mending and cataloguing each item she sent us. You wouldn’t believe what we have found.” He beamed with happiness. Brent grinned and gestured to the new shelves being constructed. “I saw the wagons. Any chance-?”

 

“Here,” offered Jason holding out a gold edged tome. Peering at the title Brent’s eyes widened with delight. “You found it?!” he gushed, already reaching for the precious book. Flipping open its cover he carefully flicked through the pages, his fingertips lightly skimming the text. “An original,” announced Aamin proudly. “I knew it was here somewhere. The girls and I have been searching in secret for weeks.” He continued to outline how difficult the job had been but Brent had already blocked his voice out. His eyes greedily devoured each word written by the very first Chosen. Corin Likhit, the Corin Likhit, had once penned these words hundreds of years ago.

 

“Hey! Are you even listening to him?” whistled Jason snapping his fingers repeatedly. Brent shook his head and looked sheepishly at his friends. “So, that good eh?” teased Jason leaning on the table and glancing over his shoulder at the book. Brent’s voice shook with awe at what he held so carefully in his hands. “Beyond anything I could have imagined. Another Chosen . . . You cannot appreciate what this means to me.” Aamin smiled and bowed in thanks.  “You’re welcome, Chosen,” he uttered. Jason clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll see to it you are undisturbed.”

 

“My thanks,” Brent murmured, his blue eyes already fixed on the neat ink lines etched across the page. The world fell away as he sat in a quiet well-lit corner of the library. ‘My name is Corin Likhit and within these pages is my story. I record not for my glory but for the great God whom I serve. May I live in His service beyond my dying breath.’

 

 

 

“Oh come on Jason!” groaned Patrick. “You gotta let me in!”

Jason folded his arms and shook his head again. “Not a chance, Patrick. I’m not moving from this spot until Brent himself opens this door.” Patrick growled and threw his hands in the air. “You gave him a bloody book! You seriously think he’s EVER going to open that door? We’ve lost him for eternity, you know.”

“You do over-exaggerate, Patrick,” chuckled Jason still shaking his head. “He’ll come out when he’s hungry.”

“When he’s hungry. When he’s hungry!?” Patrick rolled his eyes and pointed past the paladin to the library. “You do realise that man performs vigils, do you not? Seven days without sustenance - I think I should be worried. He hasn’t eaten all day. Blasted paladins!” stormed Patrick stamping his feet in annoyance while he marched back and forth in front of the grinning paladin.

 

Patrick continued to rant when Jason heard the quiet creak of a door handle. Putting a finger to his lips he met Brent’s quizzical look and pointed to the furious manservant. “So I’m hard to catch and impossible to retrieve, am I?” Brent inquired when Patrick paused to take breath. The dark haired man froze, his mouth gaping like a codfish at the two laughing paladins. Regaining his momentum he strutted forward and jabbed a hard finger into Brent’s chest. “Chosen or not,” he hissed angrily, “you’ve had me worried over nothing all day!” Laying a hand on his chestplate Brent shared a look with his fellow paladin til Jason sighed. “Fine, go ahead. I’ll just shut my eyes.”

 

Brent stepped forward and caught Patrick’s wrist. “Oh no,” Patrick retorted angrily, “you’re not leaving me out in the cold here. I demand an answer! I demand-” The rest of his sentence was lost as Brent’s mouth claimed his. Unlike his usual gentle, loving kisses he received outside their chambers this one stole Patrick’s breath away in a completely different fashion. Harsh, demanding and unyielding, Brent’s tongue plundered his mouth and tasted every inch of him. Fingers interlocked in his dark hair, dragging his head back as Brent leaned over his captive. Pressing their bodies tight together, Patrick’s breath caught as he felt the hot, hard reaction occurring in his lover at their embrace. Breaking the kiss, his breathing haggard, Brent whispered, “If we were alone this would not be the end of it.”

 

When his lover stepped back Patrick felt shaken. His legs like jelly, the cold empty air felt like a slap in the face. He opened his mouth to speak yet the words died on his lips. “You can open your eyes now,” Brent informed their companion. Jason opened his eyes and laughed at Patrick’s stunned expression. “Well,” he joked with Brent, “you certainly know how to shut them up.” Brent rolled his eyes and took the paladin’s forearm in a warrior’s embrace. “For your part, thank you,” he murmured before stepping back. Blues eyes met green and he smiled warmly. “I’d best go change before supper. Come along, Patrick.”

 

 

Reaching their rooms Brent locked the door. Removing his Armour he turned to face his lover. Patrick stood with his hands on his hips glaring at him. “Brent, what happened today? Last night was-”

“Hush Patrick,” ordered Brent grabbing his hips and dragging his lover flush to his body. Watching his lips he whispered, “I have been thinking about this all day.” Tenderly he leant in and skimmed his lips with his. “But Brent-” protested Patrick.

“Shh,” hushed Brent planting soft kisses around his mouth. “I love you, Patrick,” he murmured. A hand left his hip to caress his back. “Leave the worrying to me, beloved.” He felt Patrick’s frown waver and rested his lips on his. Feeling them part Brent slipped his tongue inside and heard an answering groan from his lover. Gathering him into his arms he lifted Patrick bride-style and carried him into their bathroom.

 

Lowering his feet to the floor Brent bent his head to his and whispered, “We have less than an hour before dinner and I am expected in the mess tonight.” Releasing Patrick he began to kick off his boots and loosen his trousers. “We could spend that time talking or . . .” He saw Patrick gulp and grinned toothily. Pulling the shirt from his body he pointed to the floor. “Show me how much you love me?” Licking his lips Patrick knelt in front of him and quickly pulled his trousers down the rest of the way. Stepping out of them Brent grinned knowingly and lifted his swiftly hardening member to his lover’s mouth.

 

Heat, moisture and sweet fiction soon had the paladin panting and clenching his fist around the door handle to keep from thrusting into the sweet paradise of his lover’s mouth. He heard his name and opened his eyes. Looking down at the naked man kneeling at his feet he felt his heart skip a beat. Jutting forth from between lean pale thighs stood the evidence of Patrick’s arousal. Bright green eyes watched him from beneath curly dark hair. Swollen lips kissed the length of his member. “Lover,” whispered Patrick. Cupping his cheek in a hand Brent asked, “What do you desire, my siren?” The simplicity of Patrick’s reply made him smile.

“You.”

 

Offering him his hand he lifted him to his feet. Sharing kisses Brent clasped his lover’s member in his hand and began to lazily stroke him. “You taste divine,” whispered Brent kissing his way down Patrick’s neck to his collarbone. “More,” whined Patrick pressing closer.

 

Turning him around Brent bent him over the sink and nudged his knees apart. Massaging his lover’s backside he pulled apart his cheeks and breathed hotly over his hole. Seeing Patrick push back towards him Brent leant in and licked him from his sack to the edge of his crack. Patrick shuddered in response. Keeping his cheeks apart, Brent licked, blew and kissed the area until Patrick began hopping from foot to foot. Wetting a finger he teased his opening, allowing his pinkie to slip inside and vibrate back and forth causing a loud groan. “Lover, please,” complained Patrick trying to push his finger deeper, “get inside me already.”

 

Removing his fingers Brent turned on the shower. Stepping inside he turned and grasped Patrick’s hand. Pulling him inside he clasped Patrick close. Pressed against his back he replied huskily, “Tell me to stop if you have to.” Patrick shook his head and shivered when he felt Brent’s cock rub along his crack. “Just take me. Please?” moaned Patrick bending forward and resting his hands against the cool tiles. Grabbing the soap Brent quickly slicked up his member while his other hand busily pushed two fingers inside Patrick’s body and stretched him swiftly.

 

Lifting his cock to Patrick’s hole he thrust deeply and let out a loud groan. Water running down their backs Brent rested a hand against the tiles beside Patrick’s while the other hooked around his lover’s waist. Without a word he began to move, his hips ramming into his lover hard enough to leave bruises. Patrick’s moan echoed above the sound of rushing water. He bent over further, his arm tensing as he forced himself back onto his lover’s cock. “More, more,” he gasped, one hand grasping his cock and beginning to jerk himself off.

 

Brent leant over and kissed his shoulder before straightening and wiping the water from his face. Gripping his lover’s hips in his hands he angled himself to best hit Patrick’s sweet spot. He heard Patrick yelp when he hit the nerve endings and grinned with pride when he continued to make him cry out. He moved swiftly, shoving his cock as deep and rapidly as he could. Patrick clenched around him and Brent let out a shout as he came.

 

Heart hammering he pulled Patrick upright and held him close. Kissing the hollow of his neck he moaned against his skin, “You feel so good on my cock.” Patrick dropped his head backwards and chuckled softly. He reached back to caress his lover’s side. “Maybe you should stay right there then,” suggested Patrick clenching his internal muscles. He heard Brent’s sharp intake of breath and moved his hips slowly back and forth. Growling Brent bit his collarbone and began to move in unison. Taking Patrick’s member in hand he stroked it steadily until he could hold back no longer. Thrusting deeply he spent himself for a second time inside his lover. “No more,” he whispered feeling the sticky residue of Patrick’s release coat his hands.

 

Separating himself Brent turned Patrick around in his arms. Capturing his face with a hand he held his eyes and smiled warmly. “You are my joy and my paradise.” They shared a loving kiss beneath the water. Picking up the soap once more he gently washed Patrick’s chest and back. “I can do that,” commented Patrick.

“I know,” smiled Brent, “but this is better.” Patrick beamed back and lifted his arms in assistance. When he had finished Brent quickly washed himself while Patrick luxuriated under the hot water. Stepping out he swiftly dried himself. “Ten minutes, lover,” he warned exciting the bathroom.

 

Dressed in black trousers and a white shirt, Brent played with the embroidery while he waited for Patrick to finish in the bathroom. Hearing the door open he looked up. “Ready?” he enquired offering his arm. Patrick beamed and they shared a chaste kiss.

 

Reaching the more populated area of the Keep Brent separated his arm from his lover and gestured for Patrick to proceed before him. Patrick sighed and asked softly, “Is this charade really necessary?” Brent shook his head at the misunderstanding.

“I am not hiding the fact I love you, beloved. You’ve heard me admit it to my friends. However I am not comfortable with shows of affection in front of large crowds.”

“Does that mean I can sit beside you?” Patrick asked. Brent chuckled and opened the door for him. “Always.”

 

 

The evening meal in the mess hall passed swiftly. The usual volume of those eating and conversing continued until the local bard found her seat by the fire. The soft echoing tones of a harp being tuned soon caused the room to mute in volume. Rising from his seat Brent took his favourite place by the fire on the large carved log near the bard. A few others gathered for the warmth and sat listening as the bard began her repertoire of songs. Seeing Patrick approach Brent patted the space beside him but Patrick shook his head. Furrowing his brow Brent looked at him askance until he noticed his stance.

 

Standing he vacated his seat and moved further away from the fire to a quiet corner. Touching his partner’s hip lightly he asked in a low voice, “Sore?” Patrick nodded. “Too much of a good thing. The bench was bad enough but I don’t think I can take anymore.”

“Want to leave?”

Patrick shook his head. “It’s fine, Brent. You enjoy Maggie’s music and I don’t mind standing for awhile.”

 

Before long most people had vacated the mess hall and Brent reclaimed his favourite seat. Patrick stood and leaned against him until Brent pulled him onto his lap. Apart from a few glances no one acknowledged their situation and Brent began to relax. The few that gathered by the fire began to talk about the music trade and the wandering life of most bards. Patrick seemed intrigued by the lifestyle and remarked that he wished to experience it. Maggie smiled and said she would make some inquires if he truly wanted to live the life of a bard for a season. The conversation then turned onto more mundane gossip and stories from the local region. Brent felt Patrick lean his weight more heavily upon him until his head rested against his neck and his breathing became deep and steady.

 

By the time the fire burned low the remaining group said their farewells. Rolling his shoulders Brent stretched his neck before lifting Patrick in his arms. Walking to their room he paused at the door and silently cursed the door handle. His arms ached from carrying him for several minutes but he managed to gently lower Patrick’s feet to the floor and open the door without waking him fully. Shuffling him inside he relocked it before finally entering Patrick’s chamber and laying him on his bed. Slipping off his shoes he tucked the blanket around the exhausted man. “Goodnight, sweet siren,” he whispered kissing his brow. Patrick stirred but was soon soothed back to sleep with a firm hand resting on his shoulder. Walking to the door Brent heard a muffled, “Night Brent,” before quietly closing the door and seeking his own rest.

 


© Copyright 2017 Justin Fyld. All rights reserved.

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