They called him the Ogre. He was not only large, standing six feet seven inches tall and weighing close to three hundred pounds, he was also dangerous. He had killed hundreds of men, most over petty squabbles or fights he deliberately picked. He had once been a great warrior, a royal prince of the realm, but his fall from grace was tragic.
He stood that evening before the shattered gates of Eldwood Keep, a fortress situated in the lower east side of the Kingdom of Brystyn. When the gates of that fortified city had been shattered a short time ago by the ram of a Scartan horde, he’d rallied the City Guard and made a valiant stand at the keep’s drawbridge. He and his companions slew hundreds of Scarts, turning aside wave after wave of the howling wild Elves. He had been a force to be reckoned with, erupting into a killing storm of steel, relentlessly wielding twin long swords to mow down literally scores of enemies.
The Ogre now stood there covered in gore, bellowing at the retreating hordes, challenging the defeated army of Scarts to try one last time to set foot on “his” drawbridge.
A few moments later, when King Mandan and his army arrived at Eldwood Keep, prepared to lift the siege, they were met instead at the shattered gates by the Ogre. The Ogre shook back blood-drenched strands of his hair, sneered at his father in contempt, and shouted, “What the hell took you so long?”
King Mandan dismounted from his charger and moved to the center of the drawbridge. Mandan never slowed as he approached his oldest son, Prince Daggan. He simply cocked a fist and swung with brutal force, smashing the Ogre’s nose and dropping him where he stood. He snorted in disdain at Daggan’s prone body sprawled at his feet and angrily declared, “A son should never try to outshine his father!”
The king, known as the Viper, would not condone such insolence even from his eldest son. Mandan’s wrath was a terrible thing to behold. The irony was not lost on the silently watching army. Prince Daggan had rallied the small garrison there at the southern keep and held it for four long hours. He had stood against impossible odds and turned back the massive Scartan horde, only to be assaulted by his own father. Every man there wondered what sort of omen it portended.
It took four strong men to carry the heavily armored body of the prince off to one side of the drawbridge so Mandan and his army could ride through the shattered gates. At the king’s command, these four men unceremoniously dumped Daggan’s body directly on top of a pile of his slain foes so he would awake sprawled among the rotting corpses.
He would have, too, if not for one man who waited until the king had gone inside the fortress—Morgan Rivers, Chief Marshall of the Home Guard. This was not a just reward for Daggan’s valiant display of bravery. Prince Daggan was at one time a great and noble knight of the realm, and yet some dark cloud caused him to be a violent raging storm of deadly, dangerous force. Someone wanted to keep a tight rein on him, someone who had secretly hired Morgan Rivers to be his keeper.
What Sir Robar insinuated about Morgan being a master spy was true. He did well in his dual roles as innkeeper and Chief Marshall, and had been sent there to Brystyn to keep a close eye on the royal family, not to do them harm, but to guard against them doing harm to themselves.
Morgan Rivers, a silent, secret member of the Banished Company whose Outlaw King sat on his throne deep in the Vale of Seven Rivers, was a good man with only good intentions for this troubled royal family. And Morgan had no intention of leaving the prince to lie among the many enemies he had slain.
While King Mandan and his army celebrated inside the city, Morgan Rivers retrieved the unconscious form of Daggan and ordered the Home Guard to load his huge form into a wagon and ride escort as they returned to Brystyn.
When Morgan Rivers and his small company of guardsmen escorted a still-groggy Prince Daggan back to the city of Brystyn, he led them directly to the palace grounds. After ordering two of the men to help the huge prince inside the king’s palace, he dismissed the rest of the Home Guard and watched as they led their lathered mounts away to the stables.
He turned to follow the two guardsmen as they guided Prince Daggan inside the palace. Once inside, Daggan slapped aside the helpful hands of the two guardsmen and staggered on up the stairs to the second floor of the palace, intending to go straight to his bedchamber.
Morgan followed the sullen, silent prince at a discreet distance to make sure he reached his room. He heard his groan as he gingerly touched his freshly broken nose. He thought about insisting a healer be called to properly treat him but knew Daggan was in one of his foul, dark moods and would more than likely rant and rave at such a suggestion.
Halfway to his room, Prince Daggan stumbled to a stop, his large head cocked to one side.
“Uunnnhhhh!” came from behind the closed door to Prince Corin’s room. It was followed by “Ahhhh! Ohhhhhh! Yessssssss!”
“What the bloody hell?” Daggan snarled as he moved toward the door of his younger brother’s room.
Inside Prince Corin’s bedchamber, Silk was lovingly sucking Corin’s cock slowly and passionately. Corey lay beneath him. Silk was up on his hands and knees, his own hard, wet cock having slipped from the prince’s mouth.
Corey had just released Silk’s cock so he could pant breathlessly as Silk sucked him. Silk snaked his middle finger directly into Corey’s ass.
Overcome, Corey reached up and hugged Silk’s hips before burying his face in Silk’s ass crack.
A moment later, Prince Daggan flung the door open and stormed into the room.
Daggan took one look and snarled, “How disgusting! Two perverts locked in a loving embrace! Morgan? Escort my brother to the tower keep! Lock him up until Father can deal with his sickly little whelp! And, Morgan?”
Morgan Rivers entered the room behind the giant prince. “Yes, my lord?” he said.
“I will deal with your son!” Daggan said. “Now, cart my brother’s skinny ass out of here!”
Morgan frowned as he took Corin by one arm and led him from the room.
Daggan glared at Silk. “As for you, I will escort you to the Pink Slipper Brothel. It is a full house there tonight with close to one hundred Tavosh mercs taking their pleasure with the lads and ladies. And I am going to watch as they fuck you at both ends!”
Silk sprang to his feet and bolted across the room.
Daggan was two steps behind him as Silk dove through the open window of the room.
He knifed down toward the waters of the small palace pond below.
Silk’s frantic dive was a desperate attempt to save his own life.
He plunged down into the dark black waters.
When he surfaced, Daggan was already shouting, summoning the Home Guard. If Silk didn’t act swiftly, his fate would be sealed.
He swam to the bank.
He dashed to the open palace gates.
As he passed the palace’s front steps, Morgan Rivers appeared, leading Prince Corin away to the tower.
“Run, Corey!” Silk shouted. “We must escape! Daggan will—”
“Kill you for certain!” hissed Morgan. “Both of you must flee to a sanctuary! Strike me, Robin! Hit me hard, if you value the life of your prince!”
Silk stood there, looking confused. “You want me to hit you, Father?” he asked.
“Yes!” Corey said as he punched Morgan’s face, splitting his lip and sending a trickle of blood down into his beard.
Morgan reeled, yet managed to give the prince a relieved grin. “Now go, before Daggan reaches ground level and snatches both of you!”
Corey led. Silk followed, and together both boys ran naked through the palace gates.
They vanished from sight down the darkened street beyond the palace grounds.