"Hey, Kahill," Captain Thorpe called out.
"Yes, Captain Thorpe," Kahill responded.
"Have you seen James anywhere? I haven't seen him as of late," Thorpe inquired, his gaze shifting from the document in front of him to the soldier.
"Sir, it's daytime, and the entire military is aware of the siege tonight. I believe those in the night regiment are participating in their new tradition," Kahill replied.
Thorpe furrowed his brow, clearly displeased. "You can't be serious," he said.
"Sir, I am quite serious," Kahill said, scratching his head.
"Fetch him at once. He is needed. Leave the others. They better have enough strength for tonight, since they believe they're capable. Who am I to stop them from exerting their strength?" Thorpe said, clearly not pleased with the situation.
"Yes, sir," Kahill replied before leaving the barracks and heading toward the southern part of the city. Thorpe sighed and returned to his preparations.
After some time, Kahill arrived at a building adorned with colorful banners that fluttered in the morning breeze, beckoning patrons inside. As he entered, the heavy wooden door creaked, revealing a cozy, sunlit interior. The air was thick with the scent of incense, mingling with roasted meats and spiced wine.
Inside, the brothel was a labyrinth of heavy wooden furniture, plush cushions, and rich tapestries draped over the walls, creating an atmosphere of opulence and comfort. Flickering candlelight danced across the ornate furnishings, casting shadows that seemed to whisper secrets of the night. Soft music played in the background, the sound of a lute or harp adding to the enchanting ambiance.
Kahill made his way inside and stopped a courtesan who seemed to be heading toward one of the rooms, wine in hand.
"Has Vice Captain James come here?" Kahill asked.
"Yes, Vice Captain James is upstairs with Katherine," the courtesan answered politely.
"Thank you," Kahill said, nodding as he made his way upstairs. The closer he got, the more distinct the sounds of pleasure became, and his face flushed slightly as his mind raced with thoughts about what was happening behind those doors. He continued down the hallway, inspecting the nameplates on each door until he reached one that read Katherine. From within, a particularly vocal feminine voice called out James's name, breathless and excited, followed by the sound of violent clapping.
"Vice Captain James," Kahill called firmly as he knocked on the door.
The sounds inside slowed, and a voice from within responded. "Who is it?"
"It's Kahill, sir," he replied.
"What is it you want?" James asked, sounding a bit impatient.
"Captain Thorpe said you must come back as you haven't finished your tasks in preparation for tonight's siege, sir," Kahill said.
"Alright, leave. I'll be there shortly," James responded.
Kahill left the brothel immediately after delivering the message and headed back to inform Captain Thorpe that his task was complete.
"Does this mean you're finishing up now?" the brunette asked as she straddled James, sitting on his chest, her eyes filled with lust.
"You think that's possible?" James replied, gripping both her hands and thrusting hard into Katherine. Her moans filled the air as his muscles flexed, and he moved his hips with increasing intensity. Katherine became incoherent, her voice growing more desperate. He then switched positions, placing Katherine on the bed, lifting both her legs in the air, and continued thrusting. Her moans grew louder with each movement, and James looked down at her with an unreadable expression.
"Sir, I have delivered the message, and Vice Captain James informed me that he will be with you shortly," Kahill said when he returned to Captain Thorpe.
Thorpe nodded in acknowledgment, gesturing for Kahill to leave. After a half hour, though, James was still nowhere to be seen. Growing annoyed, Thorpe was about to rise from his desk when Castellan Norman entered his office.
"Castellan Norman, how may I help you?" Thorpe asked, stepping away from his desk and motioning for Norman to sit.
After both men had sat adjacent to one another, Norman began, "Are your preparations complete?"
"Yes," Thorpe replied. "As the lord instructed, espionage was sent out last night to gather information on the two castles. Since this morning, Captain Kalrick and I have been formulating our plans. I believe mine are almost finished. The only remaining issue is that I believe we need at least one more siege tower, but I know that isn't possible at the moment, so I'll have to make do with what I have."
"Mhm," Norman muttered. "We're always in need of something more. Hopefully, with these campaigns, we can address some of these issues. The lord didn't just ask for a military report, though. He actually tasked the spies with completing all three of their known assignments."
Thorpe raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What do you mean?"
Norman flashed a sly smile. "The spies didn't just gather military intel. They also completed an economic report and sabotaged a few buildings. And they weren't caught. The two castles will be dealing with fires when we strike. They won't be as well-defended when the hour comes."
Thorpe chuckled heartily. "Hahaha, so the lord had that in mind, did he?"
"Indeed," Norman replied, his confidence evident. "While the two castles think they're prepared, they'll be scrambling by the time we arrive."
Thorpe nodded with approval. "The lord is indeed taking this seriously, as he always does."
Just then, a voice came from the door. "What's the lord taking seriously?"
Both men looked up to see James standing in the doorway. Thorpe's face immediately contorted with anger, and a slight bloodlust lingered in the air, making James and Norman both tense.
"James," Thorpe growled, "where have you been, you bastard?"
James held up his hands, trying to calm the situation. "Calm down, Captain. I'm here now, aren't I?"
Thorpe took a deep breath, forcing himself to compose his thoughts. After a moment, he sighed and spoke with more restraint. "You're right, James. Let's just calm down. Anyway, you're in charge of flanking the left wing of the castle during tonight's siege."
James relaxed slightly, his posture loosening. "Yes, sir. Can't wait to massacre all those marauders," he said with a grin, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
"I'm afraid that won't be allowed," Norman interjected, cutting off James's excitement.
James turned to him, brow furrowed. "And why is that, Castellan Norman?"
"Because, James," Norman began, "we need to replenish the livestock for the lord to consume. Less killing and more capturing is the secondary objective of this campaign."
Understanding the implication, James donned a wicked grin. "We can't kill them, sure. But you didn't say anything about how they need to be brought in. As long as they're still breathing, that's all that matters, right?"
Norman blinked, then slowly turned to Thorpe, as if hoping for an explanation. Thorpe sighed, rubbing his temples.
"Don't look at me. I'm still trying to figure out why the Lord insists on keeping this hormonal warhound around."
"In any case," Thorpe continued, already sounding tired, "yes, James they need to be breathing. The fresher they are, the better when the Lord… dines."
James's grin stretched wider. "Understood. That's a very… gourmet preference."
Thorpe gave him a look. "By the way, James."
"Yes, sir?"
"The next time you visit the brothel, please and I mean this with all the sincerity in my soul please shower. Properly. The scent of your escapades clings like smoke in a tavern."
"I did shower," James defended, frowning.
Thorpe raised an eyebrow. "Not well enough. Knowing you, you were probably multitasking washing up with one hand and fondling a barmaid with the other."
James looked away, suspiciously silent.
Thorpe's stare flattened into a deadpan glare. "Exactly my point. You're painfully predictable. And, in case you've forgotten, knights have enhanced senses. The only one who smells better than we do is the Lord himself. So yes, I can smell your 'fun.' It's offensive. To me. To the tent. Probably to the force as well."
James groaned. "Right, understood. I'll go… re-shower."
"Do that. Scrub like your honor depends on it. Because it does," Thorpe said, waving him off. "And don't come back smelling like lavender mixed with shame."
"Yes, sir," James muttered, trudging out of the tent.
With that blessed silence restored, Norman and Thorpe returned to finalizing their siege plans, silently agreeing that James, while useful, was an utter menace to the senses.