Romane & Erzählungen
Reign's Retribution - The Bond of Seven

Chapter 1

„Your grace! Your presence is requested at tonight's feast!” an utterly unwelcome voice broke through Reign's concentration.

“Is it?”

The king’s herald, a mere lad, was obviously uncomfortable in his position. “I have order to pass on His Majesties wishes.”

Reign, Duke of Canterbury, grunted.

“May I deliver the information that you will be in attendance, your grace?”

Reign sighed and sheathed the sword he had been practising with.

“Your grace?”

“Yes, whelp, tell your king I'll be there!”

The boy bolted from the lists as if the devil were at his heels.

“Making friends again, aye?” Torment drawled at Reign’s back.

He was one of the duke’s men and had spent the last hour honing his sword skills with the other. Grinning, he started to pick up the gear that was scattered around the two of them.

Much like the other man he had the formidable trim build of an antique Greek statue, only tan and sweat betrayed his skin for something other than marble. His body was trimmed and exercised to perfection.

In fact, the entire group of men that formed the duke’s band was a conglomeration of perfection. Due to their thorough training and experience in battle, every single one of the rugged men held an air of animalistic beauty and superiority about them.

Forged in the hell of imprisonment, the bond between the seven was beyond brotherhood, they lived, breathed and fought as one. Reign, Torment, Aim, Thorn, Vigour, Terror and Woe were names hardly ever spoken out loud and never uttered without respect. There were few knights in the kingdom to equal them, none to best them.

“Ever at His Majesties service, aren't I?” Reign grinned lopsidedly.

“About marriage?” Torment picked up their earlier conversation, “I don't think I'd mind. You've got the entire court of England to choose a wife from. When I'm in line it's gonna be more like `You see son, let's just do it the easy way' and that'll be it. But the duke”, he dragged the last word, “is something entirely different. They're throwing themselves at you,” he grinned, “and don't I know how you miss a warm bed to come home to and wish for tiny tapping feet and squealing laughter...”

Reign shuddered.

“You know I really think Henry did great in pointing out your maritial qualities.”

“Like land, money and an army?”

“The qualities practical young women are looking for nowadays,” Torment nodded knowingly.

“Their fathers more like. Not that it mattered.”

“You know, if you didn't smell so bad, I'd be trying my luck with you myself.”

“I wish the harpys had your olfactory qualifications. You know, they literally throw themselves at me by now.”

Torments deep laughter rumbled, “Tackling's the new talking.”

Reign drew a face of disgust, “That was bad.”

“I know”, he shrugged apologetically, then inclined his head along the path from the lists to the camp that housed the knights who stayed for the tournament. There, on a little bridge that happened to be the only way to cross the stream stood a group of a score and a half women, blocking their way.

Reign curled his lips, “They can’t be serious!” he muttered as the two of them drew nearer the waiting mob.

“Your grace! Lord Reign! Let me be the Lady of Yon Heart!” the first shrill voice broke through the air.

Like a landslide it caused others to join the shouting until only shreds of sentences were recognisable.

“Marry me!”

Reign cursed under his breath.

“No! I shall be his Beloved!”

Even before the men had reached the bridge a full fight had broken out among the women and some were running straight at them.

“Damn!” Torment muttered.

“You bet”, was all Reign could reply before he was seized, within seconds he was surrounded, all of them screeching his name and shoving tokens and bands at him. Already his arms were full of fluttering shawls. He tried to get rid of them but there seemed to be nowhere to go, even the air he breathed got noticeably thinner.

“Oh my God! This man is delectable!”

“Ladies! Will you please let go of me! Ladies!” his pleas vanishing into thin air Reign gave Torment an anguished look. His brother in arms however didn’t feel inclined to help his friend. With a droll stare that was followed by an evil grin he took Reign’s shield, shoved him even deeper into the heap of women and vanished towards the camp, “See ya at camp, champ!”

Chapter 2

Azalea looked at her reflection in the mirror and drew a face. She had hoped the seamstress wouldn't have picked up on the latest fashion whim that laced women's bodies even worse into unnatural proportions. Having quite a few proportions to lace away as it was, the new style meant tighter corsets and she felt utterly squished in her evening gown.

Not that she would be a match for the infamous beauty expected that night in any case. But being able to breathe would have been nice.

She sighed.

“Is anything amiss, milady?” her maid instantly inquired, looking up from the array of hairpins she had laid out.

“Oh no,"Azalea smiled at the woman who was much more friend than maid, "I'm just dreading to meet some of tonight's guests, I believe,”

“Your cousin?”

She nodded, “She seems to have sprung right out of a fairytale, doesn't she? All golden hair and tall slender build matched with an angelic face. Who wouldn't feel envious around her?” she sat down to let the other women commence her work.

“Looks can be deceiving. I would honestly much rather work in the gutter than be in her employ!”

“Mary!”

“I know it's not my place but the way she treats everybody like they are beneath her is just, just...”

“Appalling?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“She had a hard mother to grow up with, and my father's will must have dealt them a serious blow. I certainly don't envy her that upbringing. Not to mention that being heiress would suit her so much better than it does me.”

Mary shrugged and pinned the last few strands elaborately into place, “I think you are handling things inspiringly well, milady. The tenants have never been happier.”

“I can't stop the raiding on my lands. It's only a question of time for them to demand someone stronger in the lead.”

“They believe in you.”

Azalea shook her head, “I'm not sure they should. Are you done?”

“Everything in place. If you don't turn a few heads tonight I'll personally complain to His Majesty!”

 

“Slick!” Terror announced as Reign stepped from his tent into the piercing cold night.

“Yeah, real fierce”, Torment agreed, while Woe chuckled silently.

The duke’s dark hair was still damp from his bath, hanging in lazy strides to his ocean grey eyes. Too short for fashion but a lot more practical under the heavy helmet of an armour it looked quite rebellious. The hard set of his jaw made his lips curve into a manly line.

For the festivities Reign had dressed in his Turkish light-fight clothes. Pitch black breeches hugged his thighs while equally black leather boots clothed his feet. The rest of him was clad in a fitted black shirt over which he wore a leather jacket. With his sword strapped to his narrow hips he didn't exactly look like he was going out for a pleasurable dance.

As soon as Aim got a glimpse of him, he burst out laughing, “What kind of a kill are you going after?"

Having no reason to laugh himself, Reign bit off, “I've cut it on the knives.”

That did it, Torment started grunting as well.

Reign, who couldn’t see anything funny about the situation, glared menacingly at his men and started for the castle.

 

To be continued...