The Blue Prince - Chapter 1 part 1
Title: The Blue Prince
Chapter
Rating: NC-17 (for explicit sex, occasional violence and themes of prostitution)
Summary: A battle-scarred soldier, a lonely Prince and a magnificent painting are key to a conspiracy that could destroy a nation.
Disclaimer: This is an original work of fiction and is not intended to bear resemblance to any actual events or people. All rights are owned by the author, please do not repost or otherwise use without explicit permission.
It was warm and dim in the tavern, and the table was private, or as private at one was likely to get in such a place. Tucked in a corner, too far from the fireplace and the bar to be of interest to most of the patrons on this bitterly cold night, it barely fit the two men who sat at the small, round table.
Some twenty minutes ago, the gaunt, well-dressed, bland faced stranger had entered the bar and, after studying the quiet crowd within with fierce concentration, had taken a long, hard look at Gerulf and offered to buy him a drink, on the condition that they talk.
Now, after some considerable time listening to veiled references and subtle questions, he was getting sick of the other man. He leaned forward in his chair, feeling the wooden frame creak underneath him, saw the stranger lean back a little as his space was encroached upon.
“You’re trying to ask if I’m a lover of my own sex, yes?” he asked, keeping his voice low.
The stranger’s pallid face paled further. “I-I…yes. I hope that-“
“I am, you’d be right. But you see, I don’t make a habit of going off with anyone with money. And frankly fellow, you look as if you’d break if I did anything to you. Maybe you should try for somebody more your own size, eh?”
He made a move to rise, but the stranger waved him hurriedly back into his seat. “No, you don’t understand! I’m here on behalf of …another.”
“Oh? You’ve a friend?”
“My…employer has a certain taste for…men of your stature.”
Gerulf nodded, and glanced around the bar. He stood a head or more taller than anyone else in the tavern that evening, and his years as a soldier had left its mark on his body, in the form of powerful muscle and a straight, imposing posture. It seemed rather a lot of men had a ‘taste’ for his size. Most of the time he found them annoyingly shallow, and often unwilling to follow through once they saw him naked and realised what they were actually proposing to achieve.
“So your employer wants a male whore? Why come in here? Why not go walk through the river docks or find a decent brothel?”
The pale face flushed at such brashness. “My employer seeks a…companion who is capable of discretion. I understood that a great number of the patrons of this particular establishment were of military or law enforcement backgrounds and so-”
“So you figured we’d be better at keeping things under wraps than a common whore? You may be right. But why me? I’m not the only bruiser in this place, and let’s face it, I’m not exactly pretty.” He sat back in his chair and tilted his face so that the light fell across his right cheek, showing the worst of the scars.
“My employer is not merely looking for company for a night, sir. The intention is to employ a companion. Long term. And it is my understanding, from the scraps of information that one of this tavern’s staff has been bringing me, that you are having difficulty finding employment, in part due to a lack of enthusiasm for your regular career. Would this be correct?”
Gerulf stifled a laugh and wondered briefly who could have been talking. “It wouldn’t be…unreasonable to say that, I suppose.”
“You were a military man.”
“I was a military man. And after this all happened,” he said, waving a hand at the web of scars across the side of his face, “I couldn’t pass the physical test fast enough to get a new tour. So I became a mercenary. But it seems there aren’t many with a lot of tolerance for an ugly mercenary. Or one who likes men. Or one with any sense of humour. Folk who hire us wants some scowling, invulnerable looking man-mountain they can point at and say ‘you don’t do this, my fellow here’s going to crush you’. You know?”
“I…yes, I understand. But, you are currently without employment, yes?”
“I am currently without employment, yes.” Gerulf replied, trying not to smile too widely at the other man. It seemed to be making him uncomfortable, but the only time his face felt right these days was when he smiled. “You been searching long?”
The man’s face dropped a little. “Yes. My employer is…choosy. As he has every right to be, of course. You are the sixteenth man I have approached.” He glanced warily at Gerulf’s face. “The last one was refused for being too pretty.”
Gerulf let out a bark of laughter that made the stranger jump in his seat. “Well, I can hardly be accused of that. And what exactly would happen if I were not to measure up?”
“You would be fairly compensated for your time and asked to sign a document agreeing to confidentiality. Please study this,” he said, proffering a neatly folded sheet of paper. The bright blue wax seal on it had been cracked, the insignia obscured. Probably his employer had wanted to make sure nobody but his man could see it. Paranoid, perhaps. Gerulf unfolded it carefully. The document inside was a fairly simple employment contract, offering a live-in arrangement with a surprisingly high rate of pay. “Your employer must be rich.”
“Please, read the document.”
“Yeah.” The rest of it was fairly straightforward. Any references to sex were couched in terms that could have meant anything; ‘personal service’ or ‘physical assistance’, and the actual nature of his duties could have been anyone’s guess. It also looked like it would be pretty easy to get out of, if he should need to. Evidently the person doing the hiring wasn’t set on keeping his companion for life. Sounded pretty good.
“Just to be sure, your employer is a man. A grown man.”
“Yes. One whom is generally thought to be quite attractive too.” He said it awkwardly which told Gerulf two things; that this stranger was straight and that he wasn’t lying.
“Can I meet your employer before I decide?”
“Oh yes, in fact I have instructions to set up a meeting. If you are interested in the prospect, that is.”
Gerulf thought carefully for a moment. Even though he was healed, as much as he was ever going to be, there was so little going on that the army were barely bothering to recruit now, and as he’d told the stranger, he had little work through other channels. He liked sex, he was good at it, wouldn’t mind at least meeting this rich, good looking person. But what did it say about him that he needed to hire somebody to sleep with him?
“I’ll meet him, then see what’s what. That okay?”
“Naturally. You realise, of course, that as much as you will be assessing him, he will be assessing you?”
“Alright.”
“Then meet me at, ah, the end of this street-”
“Veisgarten Street.”
“Yes, tomorrow evening at-” he took a sliver fob watch from his pocket and glanced at it, “eight o’clock. Yes?”
“Yes. I’ll be there.” His eye strayed to some odd movements in the crowd, just beyond their private little corner. The stranger got to his feet.
“Please present yourself well. My employer is a man of refinement. And…wash.”
“What!?” Damn it all, he was perfectly clean! That pissed him off enough that he almost didn’t stop the picker he spotted following the stranger towards the door, no doubt intent on that shiny silver watch. At the last minute though, his better nature caught up with him and he strode over and grabbed the little bastard by one wrist, bent his arm up behind his back, held him until the stranger had cleared the door and then propelled him violently onto the street. A glance back showed the innkeeper nodding amenably at him.
Then he turned up the collar of his coat and stepped out into the cold night, wondering vaguely who used blue wax for a seal.
Chapter
Rating: NC-17 (for explicit sex, occasional violence and themes of prostitution)
Summary: A battle-scarred soldier, a lonely Prince and a magnificent painting are key to a conspiracy that could destroy a nation.
Disclaimer: This is an original work of fiction and is not intended to bear resemblance to any actual events or people. All rights are owned by the author, please do not repost or otherwise use without explicit permission.
It was warm and dim in the tavern, and the table was private, or as private at one was likely to get in such a place. Tucked in a corner, too far from the fireplace and the bar to be of interest to most of the patrons on this bitterly cold night, it barely fit the two men who sat at the small, round table.
Some twenty minutes ago, the gaunt, well-dressed, bland faced stranger had entered the bar and, after studying the quiet crowd within with fierce concentration, had taken a long, hard look at Gerulf and offered to buy him a drink, on the condition that they talk.
Now, after some considerable time listening to veiled references and subtle questions, he was getting sick of the other man. He leaned forward in his chair, feeling the wooden frame creak underneath him, saw the stranger lean back a little as his space was encroached upon.
“You’re trying to ask if I’m a lover of my own sex, yes?” he asked, keeping his voice low.
The stranger’s pallid face paled further. “I-I…yes. I hope that-“
“I am, you’d be right. But you see, I don’t make a habit of going off with anyone with money. And frankly fellow, you look as if you’d break if I did anything to you. Maybe you should try for somebody more your own size, eh?”
He made a move to rise, but the stranger waved him hurriedly back into his seat. “No, you don’t understand! I’m here on behalf of …another.”
“Oh? You’ve a friend?”
“My…employer has a certain taste for…men of your stature.”
Gerulf nodded, and glanced around the bar. He stood a head or more taller than anyone else in the tavern that evening, and his years as a soldier had left its mark on his body, in the form of powerful muscle and a straight, imposing posture. It seemed rather a lot of men had a ‘taste’ for his size. Most of the time he found them annoyingly shallow, and often unwilling to follow through once they saw him naked and realised what they were actually proposing to achieve.
“So your employer wants a male whore? Why come in here? Why not go walk through the river docks or find a decent brothel?”
The pale face flushed at such brashness. “My employer seeks a…companion who is capable of discretion. I understood that a great number of the patrons of this particular establishment were of military or law enforcement backgrounds and so-”
“So you figured we’d be better at keeping things under wraps than a common whore? You may be right. But why me? I’m not the only bruiser in this place, and let’s face it, I’m not exactly pretty.” He sat back in his chair and tilted his face so that the light fell across his right cheek, showing the worst of the scars.
“My employer is not merely looking for company for a night, sir. The intention is to employ a companion. Long term. And it is my understanding, from the scraps of information that one of this tavern’s staff has been bringing me, that you are having difficulty finding employment, in part due to a lack of enthusiasm for your regular career. Would this be correct?”
Gerulf stifled a laugh and wondered briefly who could have been talking. “It wouldn’t be…unreasonable to say that, I suppose.”
“You were a military man.”
“I was a military man. And after this all happened,” he said, waving a hand at the web of scars across the side of his face, “I couldn’t pass the physical test fast enough to get a new tour. So I became a mercenary. But it seems there aren’t many with a lot of tolerance for an ugly mercenary. Or one who likes men. Or one with any sense of humour. Folk who hire us wants some scowling, invulnerable looking man-mountain they can point at and say ‘you don’t do this, my fellow here’s going to crush you’. You know?”
“I…yes, I understand. But, you are currently without employment, yes?”
“I am currently without employment, yes.” Gerulf replied, trying not to smile too widely at the other man. It seemed to be making him uncomfortable, but the only time his face felt right these days was when he smiled. “You been searching long?”
The man’s face dropped a little. “Yes. My employer is…choosy. As he has every right to be, of course. You are the sixteenth man I have approached.” He glanced warily at Gerulf’s face. “The last one was refused for being too pretty.”
Gerulf let out a bark of laughter that made the stranger jump in his seat. “Well, I can hardly be accused of that. And what exactly would happen if I were not to measure up?”
“You would be fairly compensated for your time and asked to sign a document agreeing to confidentiality. Please study this,” he said, proffering a neatly folded sheet of paper. The bright blue wax seal on it had been cracked, the insignia obscured. Probably his employer had wanted to make sure nobody but his man could see it. Paranoid, perhaps. Gerulf unfolded it carefully. The document inside was a fairly simple employment contract, offering a live-in arrangement with a surprisingly high rate of pay. “Your employer must be rich.”
“Please, read the document.”
“Yeah.” The rest of it was fairly straightforward. Any references to sex were couched in terms that could have meant anything; ‘personal service’ or ‘physical assistance’, and the actual nature of his duties could have been anyone’s guess. It also looked like it would be pretty easy to get out of, if he should need to. Evidently the person doing the hiring wasn’t set on keeping his companion for life. Sounded pretty good.
“Just to be sure, your employer is a man. A grown man.”
“Yes. One whom is generally thought to be quite attractive too.” He said it awkwardly which told Gerulf two things; that this stranger was straight and that he wasn’t lying.
“Can I meet your employer before I decide?”
“Oh yes, in fact I have instructions to set up a meeting. If you are interested in the prospect, that is.”
Gerulf thought carefully for a moment. Even though he was healed, as much as he was ever going to be, there was so little going on that the army were barely bothering to recruit now, and as he’d told the stranger, he had little work through other channels. He liked sex, he was good at it, wouldn’t mind at least meeting this rich, good looking person. But what did it say about him that he needed to hire somebody to sleep with him?
“I’ll meet him, then see what’s what. That okay?”
“Naturally. You realise, of course, that as much as you will be assessing him, he will be assessing you?”
“Alright.”
“Then meet me at, ah, the end of this street-”
“Veisgarten Street.”
“Yes, tomorrow evening at-” he took a sliver fob watch from his pocket and glanced at it, “eight o’clock. Yes?”
“Yes. I’ll be there.” His eye strayed to some odd movements in the crowd, just beyond their private little corner. The stranger got to his feet.
“Please present yourself well. My employer is a man of refinement. And…wash.”
“What!?” Damn it all, he was perfectly clean! That pissed him off enough that he almost didn’t stop the picker he spotted following the stranger towards the door, no doubt intent on that shiny silver watch. At the last minute though, his better nature caught up with him and he strode over and grabbed the little bastard by one wrist, bent his arm up behind his back, held him until the stranger had cleared the door and then propelled him violently onto the street. A glance back showed the innkeeper nodding amenably at him.
Then he turned up the collar of his coat and stepped out into the cold night, wondering vaguely who used blue wax for a seal.