The Adminborns Son
Ah so i see you stayed the night did ya? You must be eager to hear more, as eager as that wench i fucked last night, aye she was a nice tight wee lass and well worth every coin, just thinking about that matching carpet of red flaming locks is enough to get me going once more. Ahem, sorry my boy i forgot that you are not as experienced as i, allow me to spread my stories to enlighten your mind, just as that wench spread her legs last night....ah makes me feel young again, reminds me of a time when whoring was classed as a sport, and our adminborn was the best there ever was. Yet I'm sure I've told you that he never fathered any children, of all the whores he fucked, the wives he took to bed, not once did any ever give him a child, bless him with a son that he so craved. With the lack of children, not down to lack of effort though my son aha, he often sunk into dark moods where his thoughts tricked him into hearing sounds of children's laughter running through his halls, his first sword fight with his son, teaching him to ride, all these things combined and led him to drink. Aye the cruel brew, the stuff i so crave so be a darling and go fetch me another mug of mead, there's a good boy.....
...Now, ah nice and refreshing 'tis that, allow me to recount the story of The Adminborns Son. I know i just told you he had no children you daft bastard, don't be so quick to jump to conclusions that just because he had no children of his own, it doesn't mean he never adopted a child. Yes i see that slow look of recognition shine upon your face you halfwit. Our Prince Bjar is not our King's son, he was some urchin that he saved. Yet in my eyes that wee boy saved our Kings life. Yes Prince Bjar is a warrior just like his father,, a true bastard as well if you ever meet him, a great drinking companion as well, he pays for the whores and the drinks, what man wants more than that! Now back on track.
I remember the year as if it were only yesterday. It was the middle of summer, oh that summer was a bastard of a summer, it dragged on perpetually, the heat wearing us all down, our armour baking us alive, blinding us with the suns reflection. That was not a good summer, oh aye in weather for young folk like you it was, with your pampered lifestyles and cooled wine with portable ice buckets. To us ordinary folk it was a hard summer, the water dried up, whole villages migrated to find sources of water, refugees swamped the city of Denvarsi in hope of aid and shelter. That is where i first learnt my trade, where i began recounting this story to folk like you, young men with nought between their heads and dreams upon their shoulders. Oh stop your whining i was like you once, oh aye i preferred bashing peoples skulls in rather than thinking things through, now look at me I'm some crazed old storyteller sat in a tavern scaring you with tales of the past!
Now stop interrupting me and allow me to recount my tale. Our King often locked himself within his castle and only ventured outside on royal visits, the odd whore he wanted, and official business, never did he venture forth to walk the streets of his capital, and if to this day he hadn't ventured forth, there very well may be a different King upon our throne. It was the day me and the adminborn met, yes I've met our King, has a rather gentle man but with a quick temper, never annoy him as he has very little patience and would quickly cut you in two if you irritated him too much. It was late afternoon when i stumbled out of the brothel holding my armour in one hand and my cock in the other. Aye id been kicked out, i was a violent lad back then and enjoyed nothing more than some hard sex, but it rarely went in my favour. So standing in a deserted street in a rather awkward pose i began whistling to myself of all things as i calmly re-dressed myself and re-equipped my armour and sword. Damn it was hot, i burnt my hand more than once trying to get my iron chest plate on. Fully dressed and still drunk i stumbled down the street in the general direction of the citadel knowing my watch started at the chime of the next bell. That is where i met our Lord. A young boy ran into me, crashing both of us to the ground our legs a tangle as we tried to break away from one another. The boy was quick I'll give him that but i had hold of shit leg, 'where do ya think yer going me boy' i grunted still winded from the fall. It wasn't until i stood up that i heard the stamp of marching boots rushing towards me, glancing behind me i saw the Kings Royal Guard pour into the street where i stood with the boy still struggling in my grasp. The Guard quickly encircled the two of us and within the space of a heartbeat, unsheathed their sword and advanced until the glittering points of their swords rested against my breast and that of the boys. It was then i saw our King. He was dressed spectacularly, a golden cape draped over his braod shoulders, his golden beard finely trimmed and plaited, his sandy hair sindwept over his head. Truly to me he looked the epitome of regal, catching myself i bent my knee and begged for forgiveness. Our King merely chuckled and told me there was nothing to forgive, it should be i that forgive him for i had caught his little thief. Yet that little bastard took this distraction to squirm out of my grip, grab my dagger and stab me in the leg, he then rushed forward and managed to slash one of the Guard before being struck by the hilt of the mans sword, the boy dropped like a sack of spuds, unconcious. I remember swearing quite profusely, drawing my sword i advanced on the little bastard but the King's calm voice stopped me in my tracks. Turning towards the King with my weapon still drawn i was frozen by his flint grey eyes that bored into my very soul and commanded me to do as he wished. Dropping my sword with a loud clatter as it struck the flagstones i merely bowed and muttered 'as you wish me Lord'. Now it was the King's time to shock me once more, for he picked the boy up, brushed the dirt off his rag tag outfit and handed him to me. I was to instruct the lad in the arts of war, teach him what i knew, help him where need be and turn him into a man. The only explanation that i got was that the boy had 'spirit' bah the cunt had stabbed me, so i decided to make the lads life a living hell.
So that was how our King and I met, in some filthy back alleyway, me outrageously drunk and with a small stab wound in my leg. Looking back oh how i chuckle at that moment. I was young, arrogant and bold and had been bested by a child. I made his first few months of tutelage hell.
The following dawn when the boy grogilly awoke with a pounding headache he would not believe he was now in the King's service until i thrust the lead filled training sword into his hands. Commanding him to strike me he charged at me trying to slash my legs, yet i easily swatted aside his futile attempts and cuffed him round the ear sending him sprawling into the dirt. Aye i gave that bastard many a bruise, yet i can aure you all of those have saved his life by now, i beat my education into that boy. He learnt to ride, to joust, how to swing a sword and how to shoot a bow. He was a fast learner i will give him that. He easily picked up the difficult parries and blows that took me weeks to master, within the first months of his training you could already see the man he would become. His chest filled out with muscle and his arms became knotted with devloping muscle, i swear that boy grew several feet in those first months as well. The King would often come and watch and appluad whenever the bastard managed to land a hit on me, i was slow compared to this boy.
The months slowly progressed into years and he became a master at arms and the King employed him as his personal squire whereas i was promoted to Grandmaster trainer, aye a fancy title but it filled me with such pride to stand within the King's councils and listen to his advise on recruits, equipment and military functioning. I had come far, but the boy had gone further. He had by now advanced even my expertise, and was now beating me in every fight we had. So annoyed with the boy's success i challenged the King to face him, and unexpected to me the King accepted. Of course the King easily won, yet he consistently urged the boy on until something i have never seen happened. The boy landed a single blow upon the King, a single backhanded swing that broke through the Kings guard and shattered upon his side. Yet the King just laughed, and continued to laugh until all of us spectators were laughing with him, it was then he took the boy in his arms and called him son.
The official announcement was stated the next day, for unbeknown to me the King and the boy had been meeting in private where the King was teaching the boy words and maths amongst other tedious studies. The King had watched the boy grow and had now fought with him, so by right the King announced to the kingdom the arrival of his son. Of course there was much feasting, drinking and whoring. The boy actually grew accustomed to his new role rather quickly, it was as if the King had been grooming him for the title in all the years i had been teaching him. A crafty bastard is our King. The King to this day still sits upon his throne, his son by his side. Prince Bjar truly is his fathers son, his adopted father at that. A ruthless, cunning bastard yet gentle, honourable and honest. We are blessed to be have this pair rule over us, and me even more so to be showered in their generosity from time to time.
Oh aye with no doubt my training has saved that boys life a hundred times over. If i knew he would become Prince would i have gone easier on him? No i would have been harder on the bastard, he has a responsibility and a name to live up to, aye i was a cruel teacher but look what i made, perfection. Now my boy piss off to your bed as i go to mine, my throat is dry and my dick itches for a whore tonight, speak to me tomorrow for more stories about me and our King, now be gone your smug pomposity is beginning to piss me off.
