Age of Penance - The Tear of Sarwen

On the main floor, the tavern was already bustling with activity despite the early hour. Most patrons were men of Stormguard, the occupying force, chatting, playing dice or enjoying a morning drink. The Pained Maiden was an establishment where the men could enjoy the charms and company of lascivious girls, and mistreat them a bit if they paid extra, all within the relatively protective rules of the Province of Cliffrock. 

Thanks to the city having been taken almost without bloodshed, the invading soldiers had been unusually well behaved and the tavern had so far managed to maintain some semblance of order with the occupation. Everybody understood it was a precarious peace, and anyone could see the maids' uneasy smiles when a soldier grabbed a tit or bent one of them on a table. It would be enough for a single soldier to truly lose their temper, or Gods forbid for an Inquisitor to venture in, and the harmless torments and ravishments would surely turn into a world of cruelty and suffering.

Draven hailed the girl behind the counter, a middle-aged toned woman with perfect posture. She had a long brown hair plait, a slightly saggy chest with perky tits, and bright grey eyes. A bit old to be a service maid on the main floor, but with an elegant charm only experience can bring:

- “Barkeep, this one has an attitude problem that needs adjustment,” Draven exclaimed, pointing to the naked women following him down the stairs, with her striped body, roughed hair and slime covered face.

- “I am sorry to hear this sir,” the woman answered. “It is disappointing, she is one of our most obedient.”

- “And yet here we are,” Draven retorted, “I want her on the wooden horse until I return.”

- “Certainly, sir.”

The barmaid grabbed Jennee by the shoulder and walked her briskly towards the back of the room. There stood proudly a large triangular piece of solid wood, mounted on four sturdy legs. It was one of the traditions at the Inn, a patron would pay a few coins for a maid to ride the wooden horse, and others could bet on how long she would last. It would usually finish pretty short, with the crowd enjoying the overacted screams of distress of the poor girl, and throwing more coins to make it last a little longer. Of course, with Stormguard now in town, those forgiving rules were a thing of the past. 

Under Draven's direction, the barmaid fitted Jennee with wrist and ankle leather straps each featuring a heavy iron ring. The blonde girl then obediently mounted the cruel horse, betraying an expression of discomfort when her most sensitive flesh started to press against the sharp edge of the wood.

- “She must be secured, ankles up and hands tied to the back,” Draven added in a strict tone.

A subtle smile curled the barmaid’s lips. One after the other she lifted Jennee’s feet and tied her ankles to the notches behind her thighs. Her wrists were then tied together behind her with a longer rope that was tensed into a notch at the very back of the horse. Her legs and feet would provide no support for her weight, and she would not be able to use her arms to relieve the pain. For the duration of her ordeal, she would fully rest on the cruel edge. Draven was still not fully satisfied. He requested two leather belts. One was used to bind the poor girl’s arms together just above her elbows, forcing her shoulders together and her chest to prop up. Another was used to constrict her tight abdomen, for then, in a final touch of cruelty, tie another rope to the front and tie it to a loop on the front end of the horse, forcing her hips to rotate forward and her most sensitive organ in contact with the sharp edge. She couldn’t prevent a short cry from escaping her lungs. She was clearly in pain, her heaving chest betraying her effort to breathe deep and control her urge to scream. Draven thought he caught the barmaid shivering at the yelp of the tied girl, and there was a languorous tone in her voice when she spoke next.

- “Sir, if I may, when do you expect to return? However delightfully cruel, I don’t think even our most submissive maid could withstand this punishment for so long…”

- “I have a good intuition that our little Jennee will bear the suffering like a brave little cunt.”

He stepped very close to her, and with her jaw firmly grabbed in his leather gloved hand, he slipped in her ear. 

- “Now is your chance to prove your worth. Show me you can endure, and I might consider a prolonged use of your pain-craving body…”

She did not squirm at the direction, instead, she closed her eyes and doubled her efforts to calm herself down. Draven then returned to the barmaid and continued.

- “Watch over her, but do not interfere. If she explicitly asks for it, she’s to be taken off the horse and off my service as well.”

Then in a lower voice. 

- “And try to keep the clientele off tormenting her too much, I truly want to see if she can take this punishment.”

- “Very well Sir, I shall attempt to provide her with a measure of peace, but I might warn that a distressed girl tends to attract all kinds of trouble…”

Draven took a quick look around, his eyes spanning the room and landed upon the shapely tips of the middle aged woman’s breasts.

- “I see plenty of means to distract even the lewdest patrons. Just comply and I will make sure this establishment stays out of the prying eyes of the Inquisition.”

The barmaid nodded, both grateful for the gesture and the compliment. Draven then turned around and walked away. His little show had been quite popular with the drinking soldiers. There was a good chance, he thought, the maids would be shown a rougher time than usual today.

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Out on the stone paved street in front of the Inn, Draven effortlessly mounted his dark horse, and with a quick snap on the reins, the tall dark rider started his slow ride through the narrow streets of the occupied city. As he progressed, each patrol would respectfully salute him, even though he held no official rank in the invading army.

Cragvale, the city beneath the mountain, was a stronghold. Its walls were thick and sturdy. In the past it had withstood many assaults. And so it was nothing short of a miracle that the small forces of Lord-Commander Steren were able to take the city at all. And to his own surprise, Draven himself had been the key to that exploit. He had managed to break-in one of the fortified gates unheard and unseen, and to open it for the invading army. The city defense force had been caught by surprise, and the local Lord promptly captured. Cragvale had fallen with almost no injuries or casualties, and that accomplishment had earned him the respect of every Soldier. Lord-Commander Steren had even felt compelled to secure him a private room at the Inn with a pliant maid to torment as he wished. Much better than the cold cot in the muddy, overcrowded tent he had become used to.

Now, a week after the taking of the city, the Lord-Commander was calling for him again. His newly revealed talents were required once more, and there was little doubt in his mind for the reason behind it. Soon enough, Draven and his mount emerged from the small tortuous streets and advanced to the large central square of the mountain city. Far above the gray schist roofs, nested high on the steep rocky slopes of the Mountains of Crystal, lay the real prize, the Convent of the Sisters of the Rock, an order older than the Rupture, which had been allowed to endure by the Lords of Cliffrock. Here was the Casus Belli, one of the last known places in the heartland of Elarya where women still could escape the rule of Men.

*-*

The center square of Cragvale was a sight to behold. A large plaza, paved in carefully cut cobblestones, and wide opened to the cold breeze from the mountains above. All around, stood the gray stone facades of the city’s largest shops, temples and local institutions. And in the center rose the crown-jewel, the Shard of Kelon. An impressive monolith of the same pale blue translucent rock that had given its name to the Mountains of Crystal highest peak, the Blue Mountain, which towered over the city. The shard was a truly impressive piece older than time, and the pride of every man of the province of Cliffrock.

That pride, however justified, had been sorely insufficient to keep the invaders at bay. And now it was the Stormguard flag that was floating above the large buildings at the far end of the square. The fortified guard house had been taken over by the inquisitors, as evidenced by the long black banners hanging on each side of its inner court entrance, each bearing the red long inverted Y at its bottom, the much feared symbol of the Inquisition. Further down the square at the very end, behind the blue monolith, the City Hall was floating the colors of Stormguard, with its unique dark ash color, and in bright silver the two mountains on each side and with a large lightning bolt in the plain between them. It was in that very building that Lord-Commander Steren was awaiting for Draven. 

The City-Hall was bustling with activity, it turned out taking over the administration of a city was no small feat. As he walked in, Draven was shown the same respect and courtesy he had enjoyed ever since the victorious assault. His horse was attended promptly, and all the doors opened for him without question.

- “Draven, finally! Is being late how you repay your Lord’s generosity?” Steren exclaimed.

He was a short, robust man. The years had added pounds to his prominent belly, but his strong jaw, wide shoulders and large hands betrayed the past of a strong warrior.

- “My apologies, Lord-Commander,” Draven replied with deference. “I do have to admit, that accommodation has proved captivating.”

- “Very good! You will learn I take care of the talent in my army, especially when they break a fortress-city wide open!” 

Steren had good reasons to be thankful. Taking Cragvale with such a small force was nothing short of a miracle. Steren was sure to be in line for great favors at the Ducal court. 

- “I aim to serve, my Lord.” Draven replied in a formal tone. 

- “So? Can he do it?” a voice asked from the far corner of the room.

Draven had failed to notice Inquisitor Jael, sitting in the shadows. He had the weathered face of a man that once had been handsome in his youth, now framed by short wavy white hair. His bright blue eyes however, had not lost a drop of their intensity. And they were fully fixated on Draven. Steren continued.

- “Draven my friend. We are in need of your skills again. The convent in the Mountain is resisting our attempts to breach its walls.” he explained. “The path up the mountain is too narrow and dangerous to send a significant force. Scaling the wall is proving impossible… we suspect a spell.”

- “My Lords if I may.” Draven replied, calmly. “The word amongst the men is that the battle at Stonehost is won, and that Cliffrock’s capital city now flies Stormguards’ colors. It is whispered the Duke himself and his best men are on their way. If all this is true, why not simply wait a few more days?”

Lord Steren and the Inquisitor exchanged a look of mutual understanding.

- “Draven, if we can offer the Duke the keys to the city and the Convent upon his arrival, we could be rewarded in ways otherwise unthinkable. This goes for you as well, hero of Cragvale, afterall the Duke is one of the most powerful men in the realm.”

That piqued Draven’s interest. But whether the two men were intending to share the rewards was another story. There was one more look exchanged between the Commander and the Inquisitor, and Steren asked his men to leave the command room. It was now just the three of them, and Jael’s turn to speak. The Inquisitor slowly stood up. He was a tall man, and it was immediately clear the fire of higher purpose was burning in his heart. His words had a way to wrap around Draven, and to demand his full attention.

- “Darven, it is clear to us your talent exceeds the natural. You are attuned” he said with confidence.

This was spoken without aggression, but Draven tensed up and his fingers instinctively drifted towards the handle of his dagger. Magic usage was not illegal, but the Inquisition did not look fondly to practitioners outside of their ranks. Most of those attuned to magic were women, and were actively hunted by the Order. Attuned men were much rarer, but those few were strongly encouraged to join the Order. Those who refused were at best tolerated as long as they did not disturb the peace of the land. Jael noticed him tensing up, and immediately modulated his tone towards compassion, almost too perfectly addressing Draven’s fears.

- “It is not my intention to have the order review your talents. I will not mention it again. We are simply asking you to consider putting your gifts at the service of good, of the True Penance and of helping the world heal from the Rupture.”

Steren continued 

- “Draven, I assure you my friend, If we succeed I will speak to the Duke personally on your behalf. I cannot promise anything, but this is the best chance for your already great deed to command a real favor from the rising power in Elarya.”

Draven thought for a moment, studying the two men. He could recognize unashamed ambition and greed when he saw. The not-so-veiled threat was not to be dismissed, but it appeared to be purely self-serving by two power hungry commanders. While he hated to reward the scare tactics, he had to admit he was in the same position as Steren and Jael. He knew something of the hardship of life in Elarya in the time of Penance, and understood opportunities for riches and power seldom struck at all. So, with some discomfort and assurances of discretion, he agreed to the new mission. 

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To be continued in Chapter 4: Innocent Suffering