Tale of Four

Oliver leaned forward on his horse, chuckling to himself as his companions rode by his side, telling stories about their past. "I have never run so fast in my life." One of the knights, Clifford, said with a nostalgic chuckle, "That woman was worse than any battle."

"You shouldn’t have tried to steal from her." Another knight, Henry, said with a small grin, getting a shake of the head from Clifford.

"I didn’t mean to, I was drunk. Besides, what woman throws a cleaver at a man? I did piss myself, seriously." Clifford laughed again, pulling his sleeve down, revealing a scar along his forearm, "Barely missed me. I tell you, if Lord Alkaris had her fighting, the war would be easy." Clifford sighed and looked to Oliver, "What about you?"

Oliver let out a deep breath and looked to the sky. After a moment, he laughed to himself, getting the rest of the men to lean closer, "Back when I was a lordless knight, I was working over in the flatlands. Now over there, there’s a game men play. The whores game. You go around and sing a name and a way to describe them. Two rules. It has to rhyme and can’t be something someone else has sung."

Oliver chuckled again, vividly able to picture the story in his mind, "Anyway, the loser of the game is then blindfolded and put in the worst whorehosue you can find. From there, you get the ugliest woman and hand them over." Oliver saw the men show disgusted faces, each one of them knowing how bad the establishments could get. "Anyway, this one time, we get to the place and hire a woman for him. We got strange looks from the owner at the time that we didn’t understand."

Oliver choked back his laugh and looked around at the men, "Five minutes later, we hear a cry from the room he went in, and he comes running out, wearing nothing. Before we can ask what happened, the lady he took follows behind." Oliver smiled, "She was bigger than him." The men raised eyebrows, wondering what Oliver meant. Indicating down towards his groin, the men slowly realised, and burst into laughter.

"You’re lying."

"I’m being serious." Oliver said with a joyful voice, "We asked the owner. Apparently, he serves a different type of client, and had never seen us before, so he was confused why we showed up. Most of his workers grew their hair out and wore makeup to hide that they were men. Now add some padding and a lot of alcohol, and you can’t tell their men."

"So, what did you find in a new place?" Clifford asked, getting a confused look from Oliver.

"Who said anything about switching. The rules of the game said he had to sleep with the worst-looking whore in the worst brothel." Oliver smiled, "It took a little convincing, a lot of drink and some coin, but we got him to go back into the room. We all lost more money than necessary, but it was worth it seeing him the next day. Thing is, he couldn’t complain; he walked off with a small fortune."

The group of knights looked around at one another, with Nicholas grabbing his head and laughing, "That was cruel to make him do that."

"He didn’t have to. If he really pushed, we would have stopped." Oliver shrugged.

"Does such a place really exist, though?" Henry suspiciously asked, looking at Oliver, "Such relations are a sin. I doubt the church would let those places exist."

"I don’t know about the rest of the Kingdom, but in the Flatlands it’s possible. Due to Lord Clover and his sister, the land has become more... open with their desire, so to speak. The church hates it, but when they tried to do soemthing, Lord Clover simply cut all funding to the churches and began running all their charities and whatnot himself."

"Oh." Clifford said with slight distaste, "It’s because of those twins."

"You don’t like them?" Oliver asked, getting annoyed groans in reply. Looking around, he saw the rest of the group nod as well.

"For me, it has nothing to do with who they are, I don’t know them and will likely never. It’s simpler. During the Desert Uprising, the flatlands withheld food supplies to the Valley, and it cost a lot of good men. No one has the power to control that bar, Lord Clover."

"You’re all the same then?" The rest of the group nodded to his question.

"Well, if the stories about the two are true as well, then there is that." Henry added, "I heard both of them sleep with people of the same gender and, worse than that, shared the same partner whilst being in the room with one another." Henry choked back the urge to spit on the floor, "It’s disgusting. Then you have Lord Clover, cuckolding himself and his sister, having more bastards than a whore. There is a standard a Lord should have, and he doesn’t."

Oliver frowned, "Rumours shouldn’t always be believed, Henry. There are many stories about Lord Clover, but one that is never spread is an incestuous relationship with his sister. Becuase it is simply false. He has enemies within the Flatlands, mainly conservatives and clergy, but even they don’t make those claims. Why? Becuase there is no proof." Oliver took a deep breath, "As for Lord Clover cuckolding himself, never say that in the Flatlands. Can’t say for sure what will happen, but people won’t see you again."

"Even still." Henry shrugged, "Sodomy and adultery. At least hide it. As for his sister, well, there are enough songs about her that describe her way of life." Oliver took a deep breath and looked forward. To him, what Henry described and what he knew to be true didn’t seem too bad. Whilst there were certain boundaries the Clovers lived by that he would never cross, he had no issues with it, having fought for many minor Lords who copied that way of life.

’Who knew the flatlands were so hated? Especially Lord Clover.’ Even though Oliver could remember the parades in his small village, being completely funded by the Great Lord when he began his suppression of the church. The feasts that were free and plentiful, and the celebrations that promoted nothing but happiness. ’Maybe you just need to be there to understand.’

Sighing, Oliver turned, hearing a pair of hooves come closer. Looking back, he saw a man wearing a small patch on his chest, inside it a red hand. "Ser Devon. May we talk?"

’Lord Limbs Steward.’ Narrowing his gaze, Oliver turned to his companions, who had begun their own conversation when he fell silent and nodded, pulling back, letting the group ride ahead. Besides him, the convoy continued to march as they came to a stop.

"What is it?"

"Lord Limb greatly appreciated your help last time." Oliver raised a hand and shook his head.

"I doubt he felt anything. Can you just get to the point?"

"On Lord Limbs’ departure, he entrusted me to keep those he deemed fools away from the war. Lord Stoneheart has been easy, but even still, he is finding ways to be a nuisance and slow things down." The steward leaned forward and watched the convoy pass. "Anything would be useful. A rumour you heard in his service, or a crime you saw. Just a way to get rid of him."

Oliver smirked and dryly chuckled, "How badly does your Lord want power to be coming to me, to try and break my vows. I am a knight, sworn to Lord Stoneheart’s services."

"You could be free of those vows and instead be sworn to someone, better." The steward said, "Your vows, I am sure, hold some importance to you, but are they more important than power, a chance to climb?" Although it was momentary, Oliver’s silence was enough of an answer. "Exactly. Relax, no one will blame you for being so loose with them. Your vows are hypocritical to their core. Be noble, yet you hold a sword and butcher people," the steward scoffed, "So, anything."

Oliver looked ahead and tightly held the reins of his horse, "I need promises."

"Of course."

"Nothing traces back to me." The steward nodded, "And a guarantee of being placed in someone’s services. Someone with more influence and connection than Lord Stoneheart."

"That last one depends on how useful the informaiton you provide is."

"It ain’t a rumour but soemthing you could use." The steward raised an eyebrow and waited, "Lord Stoneheart’s son, Louis, told me soemthing. He greatly admires what your Lord did to his family."

"And that would be?"

"I am a foreigner to this land, steward. Surely you would understand what that means better than me." Oliver smiled at the steward who returned one and nodded.

"This could be useful. Is he ready to inherit?"

"Who knows, as I said, I’m a foreigner. All I know is he wishes to use this war as a chance to secure some achievements for himself. To wash away the embarrassment his father left on his family name." Oliver waved his hand and spun his horse to join the march once more, "Louis said it is no secret that he dislikes his father. If he admires your Lord so much, would it be strange if he did the same thing? Besides, the man is quite large. Heart attacks aren’t rare for men of his size either."

The steward thought for a moment and smiled, riding off seeing Oliver would provide nothing else.

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