Chapter 1
CERBERUS
The tavern wench smiled sweetly at me. I wasn’t blind to the happenings around me. Quite the opposite, actually. I knew she liked me. Hoped that I would stay back for her even though I had done nothing but grunt my food order to her, three times a day for the past three days.
She wasn’t hideous, but she wasn’t my type. Nor was I looking for anything. If I had more time, perhaps I would have propositioned her for a tryst in the sheets during her break, but I didn’t.
“What can I get for you today, Sir?” She smiled sweetly at me, batting her eyelashes in that way that most females deemed irresistible to men, especially men like me, but I remained unaffected. I didn’t have time for anything right now. The sooner I got on the road, the sooner I would get back to the kingdom.
“Chicken pot pie and a cold beer.” I grunted, not meeting her eyes.
Her lips quirked higher as she scribbled down my order in her notepad. “Really? A chicken pot pie for breakfast?”
I pointed to the item on the menu once again, though I knew she wasn’t asking to confirm my order. I knew she was just trying to make conversation as females tended to do when I stopped by taverns on my travels. They always wanted to know more. They always thought they could take me on, but they couldn’t be more wrong. As a personal mercenary and knight of the King of England, King Nicholas II, I never stayed in one place for long. It was an honour to work so closely with the King, especially given my background, but that never seemed to bother the King who had discovered me on my travels when I was still a teenager. Ever since then, I had worked for him, and planned to do so until my dying breath.
There was no greater reward than the privilege of serving my King and country.
In fact, I was returning to the kingdom after completing the latest mission. This one wasn’t the most exciting as some others, but I was certainly the man for the job. Several dukes owed money to the country but wouldn’t pay. Messengers that had been sent with reminders in the past never returned, so it was time to send in someone a little more…durable.
It was safe to say that after my visit, they would no longer be borrowing money above their means to repay, and they certainly wouldn’t be hurting anymore messengers. Well, they probably could, but it would be difficult to do with missing fingers.
“Do you want anything else to go with it?” The wench asked, refusing to give up. “Maybe another beer? Maybe some company?”
I grunted, no.
“I’ll put that in shortly for you.” She made no move to leave. “Is that your horse outside?”
I grunted, yes.
“She’s all saddled up.”
“He.” I corrected.
“Sorry, he. Are you going somewhere?”
I grunted again.
“Where are you going?”
“Home.” I answered cryptically, hoping she would get fed up with my lack of answers and leave me alone. I just wanted to enjoy my unconventional breakfast and then get on the road. Was that too much to ask for?
“Where is home for you?”
“The kingdom.”
Her eyes lit up, and I immediately regretted my answer.
“What are you doing this far up north? It’s so far from the kingdom.” She said, her eyes twinkling.
“I’m here on some work.” I closed the menu and thrust it into her hands before she could ask me anymore questions. “When can I get my breakfast? I’ve got to get going.” I made no attempt to hide that I was trying to get rid of her. Her eyes lingered on me for another moment, filled with disappointment, before she turned around and headed to presumably put in my order.
Thank fuck.
I had ended up venturing far more North than I anticipated as one of the dukes believed he could escape me. Word must have travelled after I mutilated one of his close friends for the same crime, and he fled. I slit his throat to an inch of his life for that cowardice. He wouldn’t be able to run anywhere for a while, nor hurt young messengers for simply serving their King and country.
It would take me more than a week to return, perhaps a little more, so the sooner I got on the road, the sooner I would return to the kingdom. Hopefully my next mission would be a little bloodier.
There was nothing that got me more excited than blood.
“You never told me your name.” The tavern wench said when she returned with my hearty breakfast.
“That’s for the best.” I said, not sparing her a glance.
“Mine is Mary.”
I didn’t react. I never asked to learn her name, and I didn’t plan on exchanging mine for it either.
“Common courtesy encourages to share your name when someone introduces themselves to you.”
I pursed my lips, exhaling deeply through my nose.
The tavern wench shivered. She should. I wasn’t the kind of man that women like her associated themselves with. Brave women, much braver than her, had attempted to in the past and it had never lasted for more than one night.
I wasn’t husband material and the sooner women realised that the better. For them.
Her smile dimmed ever so slightly. “You’re really not going to tell me your name?”
Usually when women persisted this much, I gave in to what they wanted. It was always one night of rough fucking in the hay, or a barn away from home. It was never nothing more than that which worked out in my favour. But this tavern wench didn’t interest me. She reeked of desperation that smelled far fouler than the most pungent body odour.
Instead of answering, I merely shook my head.
“Do you work for the King?” She persisted.
I barely nodded as I reached for the beer, taking a big swig of it. It would be a fair few days before I would be able to get my hands on another beer.
“What’s that like?”
I didn’t say anything as I tucked into my meal, ignoring her. She was really starting to grate on my last nerve. However, she ignored my lack of an answer and decided to give it one last attempt.
“Is there anything else I can get you?” The insinuation was clear in her eyes, leaning over to stare into my eyes. A round of chuckles filled the tavern at her brazen behaviour, and a few even cheered me on, but I wasn’t interested, nor did I have the time. She couldn’t make it any more obvious if she tried, and I couldn’t be more turned off by her attempts. A forward woman was always welcome, but not one that couldn’t get a hint or take no for an answer. “Anything that you might desirebefore you leave for your travels?”
I nodded as I chewed my mouthful. Her eyes lit up at the slight movement, and excitement enveloped her face. I had the sick satisfaction of watching it drain away when I finished chewing and gave her my answer.
“You can get me a loaf of freshly baked bread and some carrots to go. Oh, and stop throwing yourself at me. Have some self-respect, wench.” I said and returned to my meal, not the least bit interested in her huffing and puffing as she stomped away. The tavern chimed with amusement and thankfully, she didn’t bother me for the rest of my time as another server delivered my bread.
Once my stomach was full and my tab paid, I headed outside to my trusty steed and friend, Scoundrel. He got that name for being flirty with the ladies, and sneaky when it came to food. If he was human, he would be a force to be reckoned with. He was bad enough as a horse.
I had already packed up Scoundrel fed him some carrots before I had my breakfast, so we were all good to leave. Or we would have been if it wasn’t for the cloaked figure petting him like he was some common horse. I scoffed at the thought, unsheathed my sword, and marched up to the thief from behind. If I didn’t live by a code of conduct, I wouldn’t have hesitated to strike the thief from behind.
“Touch my horse again, thief, and I’ll slice your head right off your neck.”
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Layla Knight
26.10.2022
