Grooming the Elf

Lucas was tired of whores, he decided. Picking up a different one every night had lost its charm somehow. How many months had it been since he retired from the army? Three? Four? So why was he here, walking the red district like all the other johns? of habit? No other answer came to mind. None that he cared to dwell upon, anyway.

He didn't even bother eyeing the scantily clad girls, keeping his eyes straight ahead as he wandered around aimlessly. Thankfully, something in his expression kept them from propositioning him, and so he was left to ponder his life in peace.

He could bite the bullet and sign up for another tour. It was the only thing he knew how to do, and he was good at it, too. They'd take him back in a heartbeat. Then again, he well knew that war was mostly just waiting for something to happen, and there wasn't even a war any more. The Elves had surrendered, at long last, and when the Humans took their wealth and land, they became too strong and too rich for any of the other races to challenge.

He suspected that would change, eventually. The Human lords were too arrogant with their newfound wealth and power, and throwing their weight around too clumsily. In five, ten cycles there'd be another war and this time, all the races would be involved.

By that time, he'd be too old to play at war. He had already seen 41 cycles, half of them in the armies, and half of those on campaign. And for what? More scars than he could count, more traumas than he wanted to remember, a legion of dead friends, and a pension to keep him quiet.

His grunt of bitter amusement came out more like a growl, and the young man who was about to walk into him hastily jumped back, face pale, stammering an apology.

He waved the youth on. The kid had done nothing wrong, and Lucas had lost the taste for blood long before he even left the army.

He eyed the darkened sky and a sigh escaped him. It was later than he thought. Time to go home. Maybe have a drink or two.

His thoughts were interrupted by a cry from the darkened alley in front of which he had come to a halt. He didn't think it was a call of distress. Not enough terror in the voice for a mugging. Not a whore calling for customers, either. No, if he had to guess, he'd say that was a cry of frustration. He knew that sticking your nose into something that wasn't your business could easily get you into trouble, especially in this part of Holm, and yet, his feet carried him into the alley.

Rounding the corner, he came to an abrupt halt. Maybe ten paces away was a young Elven woman, bent over at the hips, her modest behind pointed straight at him. She was struggling with her dress, a sky blue flowery thing that came to just past her knees. He eyed her for a short time, watching how she adjusted the garment again and again, never quite satisfied.

Lucas cleared his throat, and she spun around in an instant, her eyes wide with terror.

"This isn't what it looks like!" she exclaimed.

Lucas's eyebrows slowly rose. She? No, this wasn't a woman, but a young man, practically a boy, high born judging from his accent. He blushed furiously as he tried to come up with an excuse.

"I-I was just... I beg you, please, don't tell anyone!"

Lucas shrugged. "Don't tell anyone what?"

The Elf's eyes darted from side to side, but the only way out of the alley was right past Lucas.

"I just... I wanted to know what it felt like. I th-thought... I thought I would blend in here and... and no one would recognize me if I... walked around a bit. Please, don't tell anyone! I won't do it again, I swear it!"