This task the Earl has given me is impossible. Nothing about these plans makes any sense: troop movements, land purchases, bribery, and hiring bandits to attack his own holdings. 'Why he tasked me with this is beyond me. Is it because I'm his favorite?' A fact he continues to flaunt in my face. Organizing all these seemingly unrelated transactions would take days, even weeks. A loud bang stirs terror in my gut. Another loud knock pulls me out of my distress. Someone is knocking on my chamber doors. I was so engrossed in my task that I hadn't heard the first round of knocks. Straightening my composure, I answer the guest.
"Come," I say.
The door opens to reveal my young sister, Cila. She's the second oldest of our sisters. Her bright blue gown clings to her curvaceous figure. Like me, she's a picture-perfect representation of our mother, said to be among the most beautiful women alive. Her bare feet slap against the cold marble floor, a sure sign she's in an angry fit.
"You have to do something, Cilona! We can't continue to have these brutes loitering around the castle," she says, slumping down on my bed.
"Cila, you know as well as I do they have to be here. I'm sure if they had a choice, they'd rather leave too. This is a cold place suited to very few."
"And what about our consensual duties?"
"You know I don't agree with them either, but we have little choice."
"The Earl is only saving you for him..."
She's referring to the supposed leader of the Earl's elite guard. We know little about them. They are strong warriors unlike any I have ever heard of, easily besting any knight of any kingdom. Their leader is a beast of a man if he can even be called a man. Built like an iron statue, towering over the others of his kin. His anima is far superior to anything other than ours and the Earl's. The most dangerous thing about him is his eyes, which he keeps blindfolded at all times. The thought of these men bedding me worries me less than the thought of the Earl bedding me. I've only seen him a handful of times, and he seems to stay far from me, a fact I don't complain about. The two are the powers that be in this frozen castle.
"Are you thinking about him now?" Cila asks with a sly smile.
"Oh, stop it now, Cila! Don't you have duties to attend to?" I counter, feeling my face blush.
"I'm done for the day," Cila says, folding her arms, still having a sly smirk.
"You're worried about what the Earl is planning for you. I don't see him forcing anyone on you. He seems content to let our sisters choose for the most part," I whisper.
"They're warriors... and don't want to be slaves. Neither should we, even if he is our father. Mother would never allow this situation," Cila said, her voice hinting at her anger and hopelessness.
"Our mother died because she wouldn't refuse the Earl. If he is our father... he's not the person our mother loved or us," I whisper, sharing her hopelessness and anger.
"What happened to him?" Cila asks.
"I don't know," I admit.
The door opens, and he steps in. He has to hunch over just to enter the room, and still, his head touches the ceiling. The leader never comes near my chambers. 'Is he here to take what he believes is his?' My heart skips as the implications race through my mind. Instinctly, I draw my sister, Clila, into my arms defensively. Her beating heart echoes her mind. It was hard not to see the Leader and his kin as brutes, but knowning one day that me and all my sisters would mingle with them was a stark reality. Then I see the parchment in his hand. He acknowledges my glance and holds out his hand. Reluctantly, I withdraw my embrace of Cila, hopping off the bed. My bust jiggles slightly as I do, and the Leader notices. Again, I blush but try to remain composed. I walk over hesitantly and open the letter, reading it aloud.
"Cilona and Cila will go to this location with Him and Hannibal. This is a very important mission. I trust you will not fail. You leave at once."
The Earl is sending Cila and me away. 'What could he be planning?'
---
Waiting outside the front gates, I see the lights from two carriages illuminating their silhouettes. An oddly shaped crate in the back of the second carriage catches my eye. It resembles a coffin. 'Why would a coffin be there?' Cila clenches my arm, clinging close as if she has regressed to her childhood. She has never been outside the castle walls before tonight. This is a first for her. Since The Earl came to us so long ago, no one else has left except our mother and me. I was barely old enough to remember that experience. She took me to the Capital City of Aveline, the heart of Sidra. I recall the beautiful Regency I met at such a young age. The elegant woman left a lasting impression after my mother took me to visit her. 'Why did my mother seem so delighted that I met her?'
I don't remember. I remember spending much time with my mother and the Regent. Their stories have always fascinated me. I often told Cila about the many stories and sights I witnessed in Aveline. Her eyes gleamed at every word, and I knew she envied that about me, yet here she stood, clinging to me like an adolescent, slightly trembling and scared. 'Good heavens, she's acting like a little child.' But I can't blame her. My little Cila's first foray into the world seems a mark of faith, something my entire family is proud of. As a result of the Earl's choice, Cila understands the importance of our mission and the confidence he has bestowed on us. To carry out the will of the Earl means we will always have his protection. Still, the pressure she is experiencing simmers deep within me as well. The vague details of our mission trouble me.
"Deliver the contents of the carriage to the location stated in the letter Damascus gave you."
'Our Leader, Damascus, is a proper name for our Leader. A moniker many would not take lightly.' As I look at him, I can only conclude the name is fitting for such an imposing individual. Tonight, he and Hannibal are to act as our escorts. Comparing the two, Hannibal's hair is shorter than the Leader's, yet the grandeur of his body cannot be mistaken. His long black hair gives him a signature look that matches the deep blood-red eyes of him and his kin. The gods chiseled every aspect and detail of his towering physique as a work of art, symbolizing the pinnacle of human achievement. As an apex predator, he has a wide, square jaw and a pointy nose like a bear. His prominent cheekbones and angled black eyebrows give him a perpetual look of anger. Sun-tanned skin suggests a lifetime of sunbathing. I am inclined to think the two men share a similar relationship based on their features alone.
Although he is tall, Damascus carries a magnificent obsidian stone sword. In comparison, Hannibal wields a great ax made of solid obsidian stone. Both weapons are reinforced with obsidian iron and steel. Their weapons of choice are forged from two nigh-impossible metals to which only a few master blacksmiths in all of Sidra can claim proper knowledge. A lost art, exclusive and loyal only to the Earl. Our imposing escorts wear a simple loincloth and leather boots made from the hide of some legendary monster they hunted and killed. Besides their long black hair, they have various necklaces made from items I know nothing about.
These are the warriors tasked with our protection. I hold no doubt it has something to do with our relationship arrangement. So many of my sisters spoke of their experiences in bed. Their stories left me wondering how I would fare when the time came. The few guards that came with us are from the Crescent Moon. Nothing more than a cult, in my humble opinion. Still, their size seems to have grown exponentially over the many years. I don't have the faintest idea why The Earl tolerates them.
I have to endure these few days. The distance from our location is a trip, and the first carriages have to be sufficient. It will take us close to the Kingdom of Faust to, a relatively small Kingdom called Idles. The journey will take weeks, if not months, depending on the terrain and weather. There is nothing special there, and their Kingdom possesses no real strategic value. Whatever the Earl seeks in the Kingdom of Idles has to be a means to gain favor. A sudden jolt of the carriage shakes my sister and me as the finest horses in the Kingdom tug us forward. Cila sits as close to me as she can, silently staring at the two men outside the carriage. Her arms clasped tightly around my waist as if she dared not let go of me. Our two Giants ride on dire black bears. A breed that is not native to this region.