Court of the Crimson King
Copyright© 2025 by Fick Suck
Chapter 31
Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 31 - When a cranky young veteran of the repulsed brutal invasion is found and returned to the Court of the Crimson King, he is shocked by the poor state of the kingdom. North is dragooned into the reigning queen’s retinue, a position fraught with politics, intrigue, magic, and hints of destiny. The Court is an intricate dance that one must master or else disappear into oblivion. Based loosely on the song of the same title by King Crimson.
Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa
Negotiating an agreement to marry took the rest of the day. Negotiating the marriage contract took two more days and his mother’s intervention to close the deal. The chief did not raise his payment, but the bride’s family was insisting on a larger payment because Yamina might be a witch. The feast required another two days to prepare.
North and Paquin used the time wisely, spending time with his parents. As he had asserted, his father was a peasant and his mother a barbarian as seen through the lens of the Court. However, North was pleased to witness his betrothed’s transformation as she began to understand how flat and limiting those labels were. When he pointed out that he had not seen her as relaxed with others before, she declared that she was safely among family. North had to force back the tears but could not hide his watery eyes. She kissed him on the lips and laughed.
“Are you sure about this bride?” North asked Bordo when they had a quiet moment.
“This isn’t love at first sight, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Bordo said, taking a sip from the drinking cup on the back porch. They were both stripped to the waist and sweaty, having lifted and moved boxes of freshly picked vegetables from the back garden, situated between the house and the field beyond. “What we have is a moment of instant recognition of what we are. You’ve known that I’ve felt a bit out-of-place on the palace grounds. I can talk to the women, even bed them, but I don’t like them all that much. I tolerate the ladies well enough, but I don’t see myself sharing a bed with them over a lifetime. Yamina feels much the same way in her village and the nearby ones; she doesn’t see any prospects that are for life. I’m sure we have a basketful of differences, but she’s the first one I’ve met that, well, resounds.”
“Resounds,” North said, trying out the word in his head. “Did you kiss her yet?”
“Her parents would probably charge me another silver for a kiss before the wedding,” Bordo said, taking another sip, swishing the water around his mouth before spitting it out to the side. “Besides, I think I win this one. My wedding is here and will be done quickly,” he said with a snap of his fingers. “Your wedding, however...”
“Yeah, yeah, don’t remind me,” North said. “When we complained to my parents, they told us to swallow our pride and obey our Queen. What did the young prince say at the end of The Trials of the Black Knight? ‘We shall endure.’”
“You’re quoting a children’s story,” Bordo pointed out.
“I can read it, dunderhead. I read an entire book.”
“Good,” Bordo said, slightly embarrassed. “We’ve got another problem: the Sounding Stone.”
“Oh?” North remembered his own encounter with the stone at the beginning of his time in the army. Lord Aegis had possession of the stone then.
“We’ve got another ten candidates, nine men and one woman, who tested positive for Power,” Bordo said. “All ten want to return with us.”
“How do we get them to the Court?” North asked. “Logistics, money, time?”
“Time is easy, because I met Yamina really quick,” Bordo said. “Logistics is not ideal, but I have a plan. We hit up the local noble, taking his wagon and two horses. He can retrieve them at the next convocation of the House of Lords and negotiate payment directly with the Lord Secretary of the Exchequer. I have a Queen’s Writ for incidentals like this. We place two swords at his throat and the deal is executed.”
“The noble is two days by horseback from here,” North said. “Five days to go back and forth, because he is due east from here. We want to head north to go back to the Court.”
Bordo shrugged. “Fine, I’ll give you the Queen’s Writ of Property Claim, and you go to get the cart and horses. I’ll stay and use Paquin to start breaking in the new recruits after Yamina and I take a brief honeymoon.”
“Take a longer honeymoon and leave Paquin with my parents,” North said. “The tribe provides every wedded couple seven days before they return to their daily responsibilities.”
When he spoke with Paquin later that evening, she had choice words for him, reminding him that where he went, she would go as well. When he protested that they weren’t married yet and they were seeking out a lord, she retorted that nothing of the sort had bothered him before now. A Fire Witch instead of a second sword would doubly intimidate. “Besides,” she said with her evil grin, “maybe he’ll protest, and I’ll have the chance to give him a taste of the Power.”
“I’ve created a monster,” North groaned.
The wedding was held in the village. The liquor was as potent as it was pungent. The dishes were exotic to Paquin while nostalgically tasty to North, though a bit spicier than he remembered. Paquin was not well acquainted with the fiery spice. As North nursed his hangover the next morning, Paquin wailed in pain as she used the outhouse. She gave him an earful later, adding to his physical misery.
They departed for the noble’s estate the next morning. When they returned five days later, both were quite relaxed, having spent time alone with no one to bother them. They loaded the new recruits in the wagon while Yamina appeared with her own horse, a wedding gift from her family.
North and Paquin went to make their farewells with his parents. His mother admonished them to have their children young. When they were housebroken, “send them to me for some proper training in the Twilla village.” She declared, “the tribe is their true inheritance. If you want them to cut a swath through the Court, let the tribe put its wisdom in them.”
Never having heard such a thing before, North asked his mother what she meant. She waved the two of them out on the back porch away from everyone else. “My ancestors came with the Crimson King, but there was a falling out over his demands. My ancestors, your ancestors, North, came here and established the seven tribes of which Twilla is the first and the foremost. There is much that the first king didn’t share with his followers, including the depths of the agreement with the gods. You’re the first to return to his court, and the proof is in your tale. Have you not upended their ways and shaken those bustled up, painted fuss-buckets down to their core? This is no accident, my son; this is your heritage. Send your children to me, and I’ll see they get the same lessons you did.”
They left soon after that last conversation. They were already several days into their journey when Paquin asked him what his mother meant. North shrugged, admitting that he had been dwelling on her words and was puzzled as well. All his apprenticeships had been in the village, but none of the masters had hired him on after his training.
“Were you trained in magic?” Paquin asked.
“Not in the manner of the mage warriors,” North said. “Did I not tell you that I hadn’t studied as the rest of the mage warriors did, learning from scrolls and lectures of the knights?”