Chapter 2

Freymount, the Kingdom of Wuthia, 1125

Richard Laenas

The market was busy today as I sat in my stall in the northern corner of the district. Hagglers, swindlers, and all manner of consumers mingled together on this sunny evening, finding out what’s good or new, or even what’s already been used but is being sold as new. They were all the same. Even the pounds of rye and a few eggs, fruits, vegetables, and honey that came from my family farm were the same in the mind of these buyers. But it was something that they didn’t have, and that’s what they got to buy. That deep, universal human instinct of wanting something that you don’t have.

I smelled the freshly baked pies from Ms. Mertha’s bakery down the street. The fresh smell of baked apples, cherries, and even blueberries captivated the entire northern section of the district. It was Ms. Mertha’s way to grab customers from other vendors, building a bakery right in the northern corner, knowing that we vendors called this spot first. But she does give us vendors discounts on her sweets as a good gesture, so she wasn’t all that bad.

As I waited under the stall for a potential buyer, I caught a glimpse of a good-looking woman buying some odds from a stall across from me. She had ample bosoms and a nice behind to look at. There was a good, decent number of pretty maidens in Freymount, but most were even married or betrothed. That didn’t matter to me, though; most women I bedded were often married or betrothed to some guy or another, even some that I shared a drink with at the Narrow Nugget.

I grinned at her as she looked my way. She was a good-looking woman. She gave me a wave before an older man came up to her and led her away. Probably her father ... or her husband. Either way, she was gone from my sight.

“She’s pretty,” a voice said from behind me. “Too bad she’s married to Sir Lawrence. She would be a good fuck for you.”

“Not wife’s material?” I said with a chuckle.

“You can’t keep a wife. While she’s at home, you’re fucking all manner of things.”

I turned to face my sister, Mabel, as she placed more things on view for potential customers. You would never know we were siblings. You could look at our beautiful faces and probably think we were a handsome couple, but not that we came out of the same womb together. Mabel’s hair was light brown, wavy, and cut short, whereas mine was dark brown like our fathers’ and dreadlocked in a long ponytail down the back of my tunic.

“Why need a wife,” I said, waving to a few passersby, “when I got a whole plethora of beautiful women to choose from without any strings attached.”

She brushed past me, carrying a basket of melons and apples to add to the other things on exhibit. “Because you’re the eldest and soon or later you’ll be leaving the nest to start a family of your own. As most men your age in Freymount do.”

I sighed.

Traditions were important in Freymount and were preached to most youths, especially when they reached the age of marriage. For women, they were expected to find a nice husband, settle down, have a couple of kids, and live the fairy tale life. For men, it was the same thing, only that you were the provider. I have passed the age of marriage and still haven’t followed said tradition. Most men in town saw me as a failure for not living up to expectations, seeing me as beneath them.

Screw them.

Something I most often do to their wives, while they’re out doing their duties as husbands. Just thinking about the many wives I have bedded made my dick hard. Too bad I was stuck in this stall and not balls deep in pussy.

But the Goddess of Luck must’ve answered my wish, for I later caught a glance of one of my favorite ladies walking up to a nearby stall. The bar maiden, Beatrice Geste, was shopping for jewelry when she made eye contact with me. I gave her a look and hinted at a nearby alleyway. She blushed and winked at me. Her dusky skin was so appealing, and her low-cut, blue dress showed off her ample delights. They jiggled as she quickly hurried off to the alleyway.