He makes a friend – then returns to the brothel

Callum gasped. There was a woman in the cart. In the dusk, he discerned her shoulder-long hazel brown hair and extravagant clothes of crimson silk with golden embroideries. She was tall for a lass though, and she had no tits or arse to speak of. She even had a small moustache and a well-groomed beard and donned a pair of manly riding boots. An odd pick from a place full of gorgeous women, Callum thought as he shook the slavers' would-be victim to wake her up.

She slowly opened her eyes, peered around the cart, muttering, ”What in the god's name happened? ” She spoke in a deep, vibrant voice that was oddly pleasant to the ears.

”Oh,” Callum exclaimed.

It finally dawned on him that what he saw wasn't a masculine woman – but admittedly a man.

Callum pulled the would-be victim to his feet.

”You were **** and **** by slavers, but don't worry, you're safe now,” he explained.

The strange man hopped down from the cart and brushed some dirt off his stylish clothes. He bowed elegantly, brushing the plume of his puffy hat against the cobblestone.

”Sir Melvin Tiberias Clovenfurt the sixth, Baron de Coussant, better known throughout the civilized world, and good parts of the uncivilized one, as ”Clover” – knight, poet, bard, historian, duelist, and master of fine arts at the University of St. Beauclair. At your service,” he said and finished his presentation with an elaborate flourish. ”And what about you, my young guardian - who do I have the pleasure to thank for my rescue?”

”Callum”, Callum said.

”Splendid”, Clover said and pointed to the dead bandits sprawled around them.

”So, Callum, is this your handiwork?”

”For the most part.”

”Most impressive. You see before you stepped in I was, ahem, biding my time in that cart, awaiting just the right moment to strike. But I am nevertheless tremendously grateful for what you did, and I hope I get a chance to repay you,” he said and made another cordial bow.

”Don't mention it.”

”I must say though, that I am a little discouraged by Madame Zoriah. I know that I might have, ahem, somewhat exceeded my credit in her establishment, but this was a tad harsh, no?”

”This wasn't her doing,” Callum explained, ”These bastards **** her to do it.”

”That is truly dreadful. Madame Zoriah and her girls are so dear to my heart, and there is no better brothel in the entire city. Furthermore, I suspect that I left my favourite lute there before my unintentional departure. Well, all the more reason to return tomorrow.”

The man was a parody of Callum's every preconceived notion of city folk, but he instinctively liked the man nonetheless. But he raised an eyebrow and gave him a doubtful glance, ”The girls you say. So do you like to be with girls?”

Clover reminded him of his uncle, Frode. The flamboyant uncle on his mother's side liked to dress up as womenfolk and rumour had it that he used to share his bed with his hirdmen rather than with his wife. But old Frode was tough as a bear and he could throw a spear and hold his drink better than any other man, so people left him and his eccentricities in peace.

”Guilty,” Clover sighed, ”My favourite among many weaknesses and not to mention the inspiration for all my best work.”

They had at least that in common. Callum grinned and nodded in understanding. But there was no time to get to know this new acquaintance, at least not now.

”We should leave,” he said, ”The city guard will be here soon I reckon.”

”Right you are, farewell, Callum. Visit me at my house in Hightown anytime. It's close to The Northern Arms. Just ask for Clover's house.”

The bard took another deep bow before he disappeared into a dark alleyway.

Callum returned to the brothel a brisk pace He couldn't wait to tell the Madame that her troubles were finally over. Zoriah's promise played its part too, of course. Callum had won his first real victory, a mighty blow against the foul slavers, and he was in the mood to celebrate.

He swiftly snuck through the back door and moved up the stairs to Zoriah's chambers without any noise. He found the Madame back on her terrace. Her sheer nightgown and long dark hair rippled slightly in the night breeze as she came to meet him.

She let out a heartfelt sigh of relief when she saw it was him. ”I was keeping an eye out for you, but I didn't see or hear you coming. Are you hurt?”

Callum shook his head.

”Oh thank the goddess!” she declared, ”And Mister Vargo?”

”Oh, he's hurt alright. Dead in the street in fact.”

”Praise Ymir! May he rot in all nine hells!” the Madame spat out.

She threw herself at Callum, wrapped her arms around his neck and placed a warm, wet kiss on his lips. Tears of relief ran down her cheeks, and the young Highlander let out a slight groan as he felt the softness of her breasts tightly against his chest through her delicate nightgown. ”Thank you”, she whispered while she shook and wept, ”Thank you.”

”It's over, don't mention it,” Callum murmured and embraced her. He stroked her hair and soothed her and felt a bit at a loss from her sudden outburst of emotion, not to mention embarrassed for his raging erection as he held her close. ”

”I rescued a bard”, he murmured, ”You know him?”

”Oh thank Jovitar! It broke my heart when Vargo insisted that we'd pick poor Clover. Me and the girls love him. The gods have blessed him with such an amazing voice... and in other areas too.”

Zoriah broke the embrace after a while and tried to regain her composure. ”And speaking of that, I suppose you didn't return just to tell me the good news,” she said and gave him one of her sultry smirks, even though she still seemed a bit flustered as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

”Well, you did mention a reward,” Callum stammered and then felt silly for bringing it up.

Zoriah sighed, ”And you will have it of course, but the girls are all asleep now I'm afraid. They had a long day, and I don't want to wake them at this hour.”

Callum tried not to sound disappointed, ”Oh... I see, well perhaps another time then,” he said. It wasn't girls that he had in mind when he came back here. Maybe he had misjudged the situation.

”Although,” Zoriah said and lewdly bit her lower lip, ”Perhaps an old Madame might do for now?”