The Gauntlet Thrown - Lord Bent's Manor Vol. 2
Copyright© 2025 by Commissum
Chapter 4
Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 4 - The second novel in the world of Lord Peter Bentencourt, an earth born magic user now living on the magical world of Kreven. Volume two continues after the events of the first novel, Fire and Ice. Beware, the ethics of Kreven are unlike those of Earth. Also, book one has a map of the Mirror Lake region.
Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Mind Control Lesbian Heterosexual Fiction Magic non-anthro DomSub Spanking Group Sex Cream Pie Masturbation Oral Sex Pregnancy Squirting Hairy Size
After following the narrow corridor for a short distance, the party came to a stone spiral stairway leading up. The stairs were dimly lit with the same red-colored fae lights that had illuminated most of the corridor. Peter had seen such lighting used in other military installations whenever one wanted to preserve soldier’s night vision.
“I’ve always hated these fucking stairs!” he heard Constance complain behind him.
Peter glanced back questioningly.
“This climb will explain why so few who are stationed here ever feel the need to go outside for exercise,” she continued. “They get plenty on these stairs.”
Indeed, his legs began to burn, and his shoulders felt the strain of carrying the eggs after four revolutions ascending the stairs. His pace became slower, and he fell far enough behind the dwarven sergeant and Mohennial Sala that he could no longer see them climbing ahead. Tevi’s magical shadow remained visible, though as his former ward stopped occasionally, letting him catch up. He was just about to beg for the Commander to take part of his burden when he came upon the sergeant and Mohennial Sala waiting at a landing leading to a side corridor.
Once off the stairs, Peter paused a moment in the new, much wider and brighter corridor to set down his burden and stretch his arms. The dwarf and the Mohennial proceeded again until they stopped in front of a closed doorway. They were speaking too softly for him to make out what was being said, but they appeared to be waiting for someone inside. Tevi again took advantage of the delay, and Peter covertly watched her move off from the group to take up a covering position where she would not get jostled.
It was warmer here, and Peter undid his hood, letting it fall to his shoulders, but kept his gloves on and his cloak secured. He took in the new surroundings and determined they were in a barracks of some sort. A few of the doors off the corridor were closed, but most stood open, and inside, Peter observed the rooms were vacant living quarters. These had clearly been unused for that purpose for some time as the bare bedframes stood leaning upright against walls and some of the floors were covered with crates of supplies.
One nearby room furnished as a kitchen and dining room did appear well-used. He stepped inside to see the table was large enough to seat a dozen. Only half as many chairs were currently set around the table haphazardly, with the rest piled on top of one another in a heap in the corner. From the amount of dust covering the stack, the extra chairs had been stored that way for a very long while. He returned to the corridor and approached Commander Constance, who spoke softly before he could inquire.
“This is the dormitory level, Lord Bent,” she explained. “Outside of mealtimes, the off-shift personnel are normally sleeping in the closed rooms, so it’s polite to remain quiet.”
“How many serve here?” he asked quietly.
“There’s room for two dozen, but when I was stationed here, there were only nine of us split among three overlapping six-hour watch shifts, just like on a ship.”
“We’ve only numbered six since I arrived,” the young human battle wizard offered from behind her.
The dwarf sergeant looked back, frowning at the private for a moment before deciding to ignore the slip. The revealed knowledge was clearly readily observable.
“I served the Order for decades,” Peter whispered to the Commander. “How is it that I have never heard of this place ... nor that it’s a watch post to some cryo-dragon preserve?”
Commander Constance looked about to reply but then suddenly paused, looking uncomfortable.
Mohennial Sala answered instead. “Both the continued existence of cryo-dragons and Anodynen Keep are considered High Secrets in the Arcanum, Peter. Upon completing their term of service here, all are... conditioned to not reveal information about this place or the continued existence of cryo-dragons on Kreven.”
“How long has this keep been manned?” Peter asked.
“Centuries,” Sala replied. “A credit to both the thoroughness of the conditioning maintaining its secrecy and also to the Keepers of the Arcanum agents whose role it is to prevent the release of secret information. I would take note of this success and never speak of what you see here again.”
The Mohennial said the last with a threatening look that made Peter gulp.
“I see your point,” he responded seriously.
“Good,” Sala continued before smiling wickedly. “If you feel that you lack the ability to remain silent on the matter, I can impose the same conditioning upon you as we do for those who served here?”
Peter shivered at the look of excitement the Mohennial had displayed as she made the offer.
“No, that won’t be necessary,” he replied, somehow finding the courage to meet her gaze directly.
Just then, the door where the sergeant and Mohennial Sala stood waiting opened, and a tall woman wearing the rank of lieutenant emerged. The officer appeared to be a middle-aged light elf with an impressive scar running diagonally across her face. Her face and hair were wet and she was busy trying to fasten the top button of her uniform tunic in place. Peter observed that the lieutenant’s eyes were bloodshot, and her hands fumbled as though she where intoxicated.
The sergeant saluted the lieutenant and gestured to the group, “The Mohennial Sala and her party, Lieutenant Lyndris.”
Lieutenant Lyndris stiffened as she looked from the Mohennial and then to the Commander.
“I ... apologize, Mohennial,” she stammered. “I was off shift ... sleeping.”
From the way the Lieutenant’s words were slurred, Peter suspected that she was under the effects of something stronger than just alcohol.
“That’s no concern of mine, Lieutenant Lyndris,” Sala replied dismissively. “You may remain off shift ... sleeping. I simply need the use of the Sounder key.
“The Sounder—?” the lieutenant began with a confused look. “I’ve received no orders, Mohennial.”
“My authority will suffice,” Sala said. “For reasons of secrecy, formal orders have not been sent.”
“But ... this is highly irregular,” the lieutenant stammered, trying to rub a bit of sobriety into her face. “No one has used the Sounder for at least a decade.”
“The key, Lieutenant,” The Mohennial prompted again.
“I’m sorry, Mohennial, but I will need to ver—”
The lieutenant’s statement was cut off as she suddenly stiffened and grimaced as if in pain. Peter saw the woman’s eyes bulge out in terror at what was happening to her. The dwarf sergeant looked with concern between the Mohennial and his lieutenant. He began to bring his trident weapon up.
“Don’t,” Constance said simply to the sergeant. Peter saw the Commander had taken up a position behind the dwarf. She held her own trident ready.
The dwarf froze but did glance momentarily towards the nervous private who stood waiting near the stairwell. The private looked scared and began to back away.
“Nor you, Private,” the Commander added, including the young human in her command. “Neither of you move! The Mohennial is simply reminding Lieutenant Lyndris that orders are to be followed.”
The standoff held for another long moment. The lieutenant began to tremble and looked even more unsteady. Peter watched her face turn deep red and then blue as whatever the Mohennial was doing in the lieutenant’s mind did not allow her to breathe properly. Finally, Sala made a gesture of dismissal, causing the elf woman to collapse to her knees and gasp in a huge lungful of air.
After a few more deep breaths, the lieutenant began sobbing. She was also attempting to back away despite still being on her knees. When her feet struck the wall behind her and she could escape no further, she finally looked up to meet Sala’s gaze.
“The key, Lieutenant,” Sala said simply, holding out her hand.
The distraught half-elf struggled to pull a set of heavy keys from her trouser pocket. She held them up to Mohennial Sala with a trembling hand.
“It’s ... it is the large, silver one,” Lieutenant Lyndris managed to stammer out.
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Sala replied. “I’ll see that these are returned to you after we are finished with them. For now, please return to your quarters.”
The Mohennial turned to face the group. She must have finally fully released whatever force she had still been wielding against the Lieutenant as the distraught woman now seemed to crumple even further, hugging herself and beginning to sob.
Sala ignored the woman and gestured towards Constance. “Lead the way, Commander.”
Peter saw that Constance looked almost ill from witnessing Sala’s treatment of the Lieutenant. She recovered quickly and gestured back towards the stairwell.
“It’s back up the stairs,” the Commander explained. “Three levels higher, just off the Watchkeeper’s Station.
“Sergeant, you and the private will remain here,” Sala ordered. “Help your lieutenant back into her quarters and see to her comfort.”
The two men looked at one another before the sergeant nodded in agreement.
“Private Boorshut!” the sergeant barked. “Assist me in getting the Lieutenant back into her room. The Commander obviously knows her way around the Keep.”
Peter again found himself lugging the two heavy eggs up the spiral stairway. He was second this time, right behind Constance. Sala was behind him, with the still-hidden Tevi bringing up the rear. They passed landings leading to two more darkened levels before the stairs topped out at a heavy wooden door.
The door was not locked, which hinted to Peter that they had not yet reached the Sounder. The long corridor beyond the door was unheated and cold, and he was glad for his new cloak. Constance waited until the entire party had exited the stairwell before shutting the door behind them.
“We are near the top of the keep, just under the ice covering the ridge,” she instructed. “This corridor leads to the Watchkeeper’s Station. The Sounder is in a secured chamber beyond that room.”
The Commander again took the lead down the narrow corridor. Peter followed, sidestepping with his awkward load. Although the corridor was very cold with frost covering its arched stone ceiling, it was at least well-lit by daylight streaming through a series of small, barred openings lining the left side of the tunnel.
Peter paused to peer out of one of the openings and discovered the narrow shaft opened to the sky about a dozen feet outside the corridor. The first few feet were carved through stone, with the remainder of the shaft being cut through translucent, brightly-lit ice. They were indeed near the top of the Keep.
At the end of the corridor was another heavy iron-banded door like the one they’d first encountered down at the base of the keep. This door was currently braced in the open position, and Commander Constance led them past without slowing. A few paces beyond was a second, similar door, which was also braced open.
Peter deduced the two doors could be used to seal off the Keep proper from whatever lay further ahead. Finally, after taking a sharp turn to the right, they approached a smaller, closed door.
“The Watchkeeper’s Station,” Commander Constance explained.
She tried the latch and found it locked. Rather than sort through the Lieutenant’s keys, she simply banged on the door with her fist.
“Open up!” she yelled.
After a few seconds, the latch rotated, and the door began to retract inward.
“It’s about time you sods relieved us!” complained whoever was behind the door.
The voice sounded male. As the door retracted further, they were able to make out a second occupant about five paces beyond the door. This was a female who wore the stripes of a second-rank private. She was seated in front of a large, frost covered window, but was currently turned facing them with her mouth open as if in shock. From her dark, stocky features and curly hair, the woman private must have been from the South Island region, far beyond the Turquoise Sea. The private finally noticed the Commander’s rank, hopped to her feet and saluted.
“It’s nearly a quarter-hour past shift change!” the still-hidden male behind the door continued. “And why did the alarm sound earli—”
His questioning cut off abruptly as the man finally noticed the strange party was not the relief watch he’d been expecting.
“Stand aside for Mohennial Sala’s party, Corporal,” Constance ordered, breaking the tableau.
Following the Commander’s orders, the still-shocked corporal stepped back, giving them room to enter. He then joined the private in offering a salute to the commander.
“Your names?” Commander Constance asked, ignoring their salute for the moment. She also stepped inside the room and moved away from the door, keeping their attention on her.
“Corporal Cutter,” the Kreven-human corporal said, before gesturing towards the private. “And that is Private Shimyle.”
The female private remained at attention and was obviously more experienced than the first-rank private they’d met earlier. Constance finally returned their salute and then ignored them, walking toward the window to look outside. Peter maneuvered his load through the narrow doorway and into the watchkeeper chamber, pausing for a moment to survey the oddly-shaped space.
The chamber was about twenty feet across by thirty wide, with three large, thickly-framed windows inset high in the middle of one side. To either side of the windows were two solid-looking doors, each lower down and accessed by narrow stairwells. The watch station the female private had been sitting at was centered on the middle window. The station had a small telescope mounted on a swivel, also facing the heavy glass. The room reminded Peter of the bridge of a ship.
The right end of the chamber with a desk and chair, appeared to be a makeshift office area. The desk looked busy, being covered with paperwork, reports, and open ledgers, and a great amount of what was clearly trash. An open doorway beyond led to a small room with the visible, wooden bench, complete with waste hole identifying it as a privy.
Peter saw the crude arrangement and remembered fondly his new flush toilet waiting back at his manor. He wondered where this privy’s waste dropped to. At least with the extreme cold, if there was a dung pit outside, there wouldn’t be any issues with smell or insects.
The opposite end of the watch-keeping space contained a small coal-fired stove. From the wisp of steam coming from the kettle sitting on the stove, it was used for more than just heat. A small table and chair were nearby, on which sat a half-consumed block of cheese. That, and the two waterskins hanging from a wall peg, were the only staples visible.
Peter moved to take up position near this eating table, leaving enough room behind him to form a protected nook for Tevi to stand invisible. Sala followed him into the room and Peter was amused to see the two battle wizards attempt to stand even straighter as they spied the Mohennial.
Neither caught Tevi’s magical shadow as it moved carefully into the corner behind him. As he had done below, he remembered to keep casting the minor, weather-sensing charm, hoping to spoil any magical detection abilities either wizard may have possessed. Sala did not address either wizard but instead, went directly to stand near the Commander at the watchkeeping station in front of the center window.
Constance pointed, “See that island about two miles distant? It’s just within the boundary of the dragon’s hunting preserve. They usually keep a lookout there to watch the portal and this Keep.”
Peter moved slightly so he could peer over the Commander’s shoulder and towards where she was pointing. He cast a sight-enhancement spell and was able to better make out the small, ice-covered island rising above the plain of flat whiteness, which must have been the frozen sea.