Chapter 4

This story will contain elements of non-consent, BDSM, fantasy/sci-fi anal/oral and forced sexual activity. If this is not your thing, then feel free to move on to another story. Enjoy. Feedback is appreciated and encouraged.

Damian awoke before the sun rose, and carefully untangled himself from the sleeping waif at his side. He had a task to attend to and needed to be on the move swiftly. He quickly dressed, donning the black silk shirt and Heavy pants, along with his leather armour and bracers. He then silently cast several protective spells on himself. A basic iron guard, along with enchantments against fire and magical force along with spells to silence his footfalls. He then went downstairs and spoke to the wife of the innkeeper who was in the kitchen preparing breakfast.

“Good morning Goodwoman.” He said in a low voice. The woman let out a surprised squeak and turned around, as she had not heard him approach.

“Good morning M’lord.”

“I have an important task today. I ride out to deal with the bandits that have been plaguing the caravans around here. I have good information on where they are and will be searching for them and bringing those that survive in for transport to the Royal prison later on. The young lady upstairs is still asleep. Let her sleep as long as she wills. When she comes down feed her well, and put her to work on any minor tasks you see fit. If she is disagreeable, feel free to give her a swift swat across the rump to correct her behaviour, and advise me tonight. She was well punished last night, so a moderate swat should gain her attention fairly well.”

“Yes M’lord. I’ll see how she fairs helping me in the kitchen today. I’ll not be to hard on her. She’s a tiny little thing.”

“Indeed. Fate has treated her unkindly, and I shall remedy that as best I can over the next while. But I am a Magister, and she is my ward. I shall brook no disobedience from her. I would appreciate any effort you can make to feed her up a bit. Shes been malnourished for some time, and before two nights ago, she hadn’t eaten for three days.”

“Aye M’lord. I’ll keep her with me in the kitchen and have her be my taster. She’ll not be lacking any food today. Also keep her out of trouble if shes out of the eyes from our customers. Shes a pretty little thing now that you’ve cleaned her up a bit, and I’m sure some of our lesser refined folks would hassle her if she was left in the common room unaccompanied.”

“The stables are around back, correct?”

“Yes sir. Would you like for my Husband to ready your horse for you?”

“Please. I’ll go and let Alasara know that I am going, and that she is to obey you as she would me, then I’ll be off. I should be back by nightfall, with any small amount of luck. If I am not back in two days take her to the local Captain of the guard and let him know that she is an Imperial Ward, and is to be taken to the Capital on my orders.”

“Yes M’lord.” With that, Damian headed up the stairs, and slipped quietly into his room. A ray of fading moonlight feel on the form of his sleeping ward. She looked quite peaceful, curled up under the blankets. He sat down on the bed and gently touched her on the shoulder. She gave a soft moan and rolled over, her sleepy eyes glancing up at him in the darkness.

“Alasara, I have to go. I’ll hopefully be back by nightfall. Sleep as late as you want. Then go downstairs and eat. Obey the Innkeepers wife as you would me while I’m gone.”

“Yes sir.” She sleepily whispered.

Following a strangely strong compulsion, Damian bent low and gently placed a kiss on her forehead, and then he stood, tucked the blankets back up over her shoulders and quietly slipped out of the room. As he left he glanced back ... Alasara had snuggled down into the blankets and was already asleep.

He grabbed a loaf of the wonderfully fresh heavy black bread, still warm from the innkeepers oven, and cut it in half and slathered it in butter and honey, then put it back together. He had the innkeepers wife wrap it in cloth and headed around back. The Innkeeper had the black stallion saddled, and Damian mounted up and rode away from the inn.

Damian rode north in the quiet chill air, munching on the loaf of bread and honey. He knew roughly where the last several Caravans had been attacked by the bandits. Two of them had been left with no survivors, only being reported by the burnt out waggons and corpses left by the side of the road that have been reported to the local guardsmen. It was approaching dawn when Damian found the signs of the last caravan.

He cast a minor divining spell and it led him to a small game trail a couple of hundred yards away. He tied his horse to a tree near a nearby stream and left plenty of rope so the horse could graze while he was gone. He then slipped into the woods and began to stalk his quarry. He followed the mental promptings of the spell he had cast and moved silently through the woods. After about fifteen minutes of quietly following the spell, he detected a hint of woodsmoke in the air. Damian unsheathed his sword and mentally readied several combat spells.

The first sentry he saw was half asleep leaning against a tree. Damian moved silently up behind him, and hit him sharply behind the ear with the pommel of his sword. The sentry collapsed and Damian caught him, and pulled his limp body into some bushes, partially concealing him. Damian cast a quick sleep cantrip, ensuring that the man would not wake up before Damian was done with his task of subduing or destroying the bandit group. He then climbed a nearby willow tree to get a quick look at the camp that the bandits had.

In the pre dawn light he quickly appraised the layout of the camp. About ten tents lay in the clearing, with a large fire pit with a cooking frame over it. The ashes of last nights fire gave off a hint of smoke. An icy smile came to Damian’s face and he slipped down out of the tree. There could only be a dozen of them at most. This was going to be almost too easy. The only one that would be even remotely challenging to him would be his primary quarry, a half orc Berserker that wielded a large battleaxe. This creature was his reason for being here. The Bandit leader had escaped another Magisters wrath several months ago in another region of the Empire, and had fled here. Damian was not about to put up with the creature creating havoc in the area that he watched over.

Damian circled the camp further and spotted two more sentries, one another half orc and a human. Both were not very alert, but these two were close together. It would be difficult to get them both silently. He crept through the brush silently, almost invisible in the pale light of the rapidly approaching dawn. He drew the dagger from his boot, and whispered a spell. The dagger now crackled with pale green lightning dancing around the edges of the blade. The half orc was about ten yards away, with the nearly asleep human right next to him.

With whip-crack speed Damian hurled the dagger, which caught the half orc at the base of the skull. The arcane energy that Damian had imbued the blade with discharged and the half orc collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut. Damian quickly drew his sword as the other sentry started to turn at the noise of his falling comrade. The sword blade flashed and tore out the throat of the remaining sentry. He fell to the ground with a soft thud, bright red arterial blood rapidly pooling on the ground beneath him. Damian paused to wipe blood that had sprayed him off of his face.

He slowly strolled into the clearing where the bandits had set up camp. It was time for a bit of a wake up call for the remaining bandits. He muttered an incantation and released his will. Lightning flashed down out of the clear morning sky and vaporized the cook stand over the fire pit with a earthshaking crack. Panic shouts as the remaining nine bandits piled out of the tents. Some had weapons in hand, but several of them just wore pants. One held a loaded and cocked crossbow, which he raised and began to point at Damian. Damian just grinned as the bandit fired. The bolt hit him and bounced off, showing the effects of the ironguard spell that Damian had cast back at the inn. Damian reached behind his back with his left hand and pulled out another dagger. He mutter another arcane incantation and this time, the dagger glowed bright blue.

“An attack on the person of an Imperial Magister is treason. I find you guilty. The sentence is death.” With a flick of his wrist, the dagger flew across the clearing. It impacted the crossbow carrying bandit in the chest and the spell Damian had cast detonated. Pure magical force shattered the bandits ribcage and spine and turned his internal organs into mush. The bandit flew backwards and impacted a tree, blood pouring from his mouth and ears, clearly dead.

Several of the other bandits looked at him with shock, and two immediately dropped the swords they were holding. The leader of the bandits just growled and stepped forwards, hefting the large battle axe. Damian focused in on the weapon that the towering hulk was carrying. It was a brutal two headed war axe, with a haft a good five feet long. The Orc wielded it one handed, and carried a large round shield on his other arm. Damian activated his mage-sight with a thought and swept his eyes over the group. The Orc was the only one with any magical equipment, with the battle axe and bracers that he wore both glowing under his mage-sight.

With a feral grin the Orc charged him, Axe swinging in from the side with terrifying speed. Damian quickly conjured a mage shield for his left hand and deflected the blow to the side, although the force staggered him, he remained standing. His sword flashed and drew blood, a narrow cut high on the shoulder of the Orc, slicing through the leather armour that the bandit leader wore like it wasn’t there. Damian spun behind the bandit leader, dove and rolled away, and quickly skewered another bandit through the chest with a quick thrust of his sword, then turned back to reengage the huge half-orc.

The huge brute had a confused look on his face as he spun back to fight with the black armoured mage.

Damian closed in and once again deflect a massive blow from the half orc with his mage shield. His sword flashed in and once again drew blood, this time a more substantial cut to the bandits shield arm. The half orc growled with frustration and then let out a battle cry, knocking Damian to the ground with a bash from his shield. Damian, with battle trained and magic enhanced reflexes, turned the knock to the ground into a roll, and once again, his sword flashed, and took out the throat of another bandit who looked like he was about to join the fray.

Under his breath Damian voiced a quiet spell, and the blade of his sword began to glow red. The half orc charge him again, swinging the axe in a vicious downward swipe. Damian parried the blow just barely redirecting the vicious swing off to the side. The glow on his sword began to intensify, and then Damian lunged, the blade sliding past the shield of the half orc, and slid into the shoulder of the shield arm. The energy that had been building up on the sword discharged, and the Damian’s opponent convulsed in pain as the arcane energy course through his body. Damian withdrew the blade, spun quickly, and brought the blade around in a blinding fast two handed arc, and cleanly beheaded the bandit leader. A massive spray of arterial blood sprayed across the clearing. The two bandits that had dropped their weapons fled quickly into the forest.

Damian glanced their way and made no move to pursue them they could be tracked later or just left to flee. He had bigger issues to deal with. The four remaining bandits had gathered their courage and we preparing to attack him together. Damian’s primary purpose fulfilled, he felt no need to expend any unnecessary effort on dealing with the remaining bandits. He chanted in a low menacing voice, and let loose his will, and his sword began glowing brightly, containing the force of his magic. With a flick of his wrist, a dozen bolts of pure magical force flew from his sword in a spray. Three bolts struck each of the bandits, shattering ribs and in one case, caving in the skull of one of the bandits. One lay groaning in agony, still alive, but obviously mortally injured. Damian walked up to the fallen bandit, and after a quick check to see that his wounds were mortal, dispatched the bandit with a quick dagger thrust between his ribs and into his heart, ending the bandits life.

He gathered his thrown daggers from the corpses of the fallen and collected the axe and bracers from the dead berserker. He dragged the bodies into a pile and checked the corpses for anything of interest. He collected the coins, and one thinner longsword, that looked to be of eleven make that he thought would make a good weapon for Alasara, once he trained her in sword work and self defence. The lighter, but strong elven blade would be of a good size and weight for her small frame. He then muttered the words for a strong fire spell and incinerated the collected bodies of the bandits.

After a quick check to ensure nothing of value was left in the camp, he used a tent pole from one of the bandits makeshift shelters and sharpened both ends. With considerable strength he drove the point of the 6 foot long wooden shaft into the ground and then collected the head of the bandit leader. He impaled it on the wooden spike, and then cast an aversion ward on the head and pole, and then a preservation spell to slow the rot of the head. No bandits would be using this camp for some time and anyone who came upon the camp would witness the consequences of banditry. They may escape the notice of the Emperor for a time, but the gods would not be kind to those who gain the attentions of an Imperial Magister.

With a pouch of several dozen gold and more than 200 silver collected from the dead bandits, and some assorted jewellery he found around the camp collected, he bundled that up, along with the Orc’s magical bracers, the battleaxe and sword and headed back towards his horse. He looked back at the clearing. 10 dead bandits, two fled, and a magical weapon taken out of evil hands. No matter how you looked at it, that wasn’t a bad days work for an instrument of the Emperors will. It was time to head back and see what his little charge was up to at the inn. He looked at the sun. Just after mid day. He should be back at the inn for supper.

He made his way along the game trail, found the sentry that he had knocked out earlier and quietly slit his throat. No need for a trial at this point. The sentry had nothing of value worth keeping, so he incinerated the corpse with a quick fire spell. Once he made it back to his horse, he put the money and bracers in his saddlebags and tied the magical axe and eleven sword across the back of the saddle. He untethered his horse and head back along the roadway into town. An hour and a half ride had him outside the tavern where he had left his charge in the morning.

Damian reined in his horse and stopped for a minute to contemplate before he headed into the yard of the tavern. He reached down to his belt and activated the seal. He mentally composed his report to the Emperor, and then quietly spoke the words of the spell to activate his Seal. The completed sentences for the bandits would be magically spread to the other Magisters in the Empire. He also mentally sent a small additional report directly addressed to the Emperor in regards to Alasara, and her circumstances.

If he was to fall in combat now, the Emperor himself would ensure Alasara’s welfare would be looked after. It was the bare minimum he felt was necessary at this point. She had suffered far more than anyone her age should have. He had included his suspicions on the nature of her parents death in his report. His workload precluded investigating further at this point, but ensuring that further investigation would happen at some later point was looked after. Even if he was killed during the next few assignments, another Magister would be looking into the circumstances of the death of Alasara’s parents. Justice in the Empire might not be swift, but it was thorough when the attentions of those in power were brought to the fore.

He gently flicked the reigns of his horse and slowly trotted into the yard of the tavern. He got down off the horse, and a young lad, about fifteen appeared out of the shadows and took the reigns of his horse.