Squire Adela Ch. 01

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    floki
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    Squire Adela is the property of SilenceDances on Literotica. If it is posted elsewhere, that is not okay. Go find it on literotica.com
    I have an absolutely AMAZING editor, who sees the things I miss in both the writing and the plot. AvatarIka is a charm to work with. I could not have done this without him.

    This is a story set in a fictional/medieval-esk world. There is a fair bit of plot, but I try to have a (m/f) sex scene every chapter. The first chapter is vanilla, but later on there will be some Dominance, voyeurism, and whatever else catches my fantasy.

    Prologue:

    The final battle raged. Amidst the chaos, Dame Golden‒the best knight in all of Taron‒ was not glorious as the ballads claimed. Instead, she was furious. Only one of her squires had managed to stay by her side. The other seven were spread across the battlefield, each trying to fight their way towards her. Two made it. Together, they were four. Four souls who kept each other alive that bleak day.

    At the end of the battle, it was difficult to tell which country had won. Marks from man, and magic, marred the once fertile fields. There stood Dame Golden, looking grave, yet triumphant. She bore that look through the weeks of celebration. The brave country Taron had finally triumphed over its neighbor Devia. Decades of war had finally come to an end. Knighthood was awarded to Marcus, Robert, and Dragon Clarell: her three surviving squires.

    The youngest of the three, Marcus Hardwick, had only been a squire for four years. Yet, he had proven himself to be chivalrous and true. He had managed to stay by her side the entire battle. In a quiet moment after the Knighting ceremony, he pulled Dame Golden aside.

    “Am I ready for this, Aunt?” he asked her, picking at his silk finery.

    “You have earned your Knighthood,” she said. “If you ever have doubts, repress them. If you show your doubts‒”

    “‒Your enemies will sense them,” Marcus interrupted.

    “No,” Golden laughed. “Even worse: your squires will. Now come, let us celebrate.” She dragged her nephew back to the revelries.

    The castle Taronel resounded with the boundless glee of its people. Its extravagant dining hall was filled with many feasts: dishes of peacock, boar, exotic fruits, sculptures of sugar, and all manner of beautiful edibles were on display. Magicians and witches, glad to have a break from battle magic, created beautiful light shows. Dragons, and other intelligent creatures, came to enjoy the free food. Royalty from all of the surrounding lands joined the celebrations, bringing gifts, and servants.

    King Taron stood, to deliver yet another magnanimous speech, “My people, and my guests, let us cheer for the brave Knights who fought this battle.” Once the loud cheer quieted, and the translators finished, he continued, “Rise Knights of Taron!” The Knights arose, those newly Knighted stumbling. “As a show of appreciation, I bear gifts. I gift each Knight a squire. However, there are two Knights in particular that made enormous sacrifices. They proved themselves true to Taron. To Sir Lynn Rithe, I bequeath the castle Ardon. To Dame Rohesia Golden, the castle Bardol.”

    Marcus stared curiously at the young squires. They were strong to have lived through the trials of page-hood, and the war. They would be worthy squires. Once the King finished his speech, his aides led the Knights to their new squires. Sir Marcus’s squire was a strapping girl, who met his gaze unflinchingly.

    “A pleasure to meet you, Sir Hardwick,” his squire said, giving a curt bow. “My name is Adela Costaine.”

    “What are your qualifications?” Marcus asked, remembering Dame Golden’s insinuation that squires could sense doubt.

    “I have survived to the age of 15,” Adela responded bitterly. “I am skilled at fighting with, and without, all of the basic weapons. I have unrivaled horsemanship. I lived through the war, which is more than can be said of my previous Knight.”

    Her obvious pain reminded him of his losses. Marcus nodded coolly, “It is a pleasure to meet you as well, squire.”

    As Adela took her place guarding him, Marcus finally felt like a Knight. A few drinks in, the pain of loss faded amidst the merriment. He drank, feasted, and flirted with the women around him. That night, Marcus first learned the sweet taste of a woman. Many court women were eager to seek out the attentions of a Knight. Over the weeks of celebration, he grew an appetite for lust that became legend. Adela would simply roll her eyes, and clean up the hangovers.

    Once the weeks of revelries were over, Dame Golden called for the Knights that had been her squires. They gathered in her chambers. To their surprise, the room was filled with a sundry of Knights. Mostly those who had lost their place in life since the war had ended.

    “My dear friends, and fellow Knights,” she said. “The King has appointed me head of a new Order: The Knights Golden. I am to chose which knights join the Order. Those of you that wish to can join me in Devia.”

    Nursing a terrible hangover; Marcus said, “I for one would love to.”

    “To escape a certain woman?” Clarell asked, rolling her reptilian eyes. “Everyone heard her squeals of… anger.”

    “She exhausted me,” Marcus said, surreptitiously rubbing his sore muscles.

    “The King would allow this army of Knights out of his sight?” Robert asked, staying on-topic.

    “His Majesty knows keeping Devia will require both force and fair rule,” Dame Golden said. “The castle was not simply a friendly gesture. This will be a difficult task. If you wish to come with me, we ride in three days.”

    From the shadows, Adela said goodbye to the only home she had ever known. Taronel housed memories of all the people she had lost. It would be a relief to all of them, moving away from a place with a myriad of ghosts. Bardol, being in the mountains, was a hold-out for the rebels in Devia. For the Order of the Knights Golden, the next few years would be almost as difficult as the war had been.

    Chapter One

    Peace seemingly lay thick in the land. Five years without war was unprecedented; the countries Devia and Taron had fought for longer than anyone could remember. Surprisingly, once Devia was conquered, it had only taken two years to weed out the rebels. Three years passed without bloodshed. Yet, in the castle Bardol, one man could not escape battle.

    The resistance of a blade dragging through flesh haunted his dreams. His fears twined with past battles, changing battles won to battles lost. Sir Marcus Hardwick awoke with a start.

    “Adela!” he called, tripping out of bed. “Damn, where is that squire when I need her.”

    Marcus stumbled into his squire’s room.

    “Saddle the horses,” he commanded, but Adela was fast asleep. Marcus stopped short.

    In her sleep, she had struggled out of her chemise and furs. Sir Hardwick’s eyes lingered on her naked flesh. She had grown into a woman. No longer was she the gangly youth he had first met. Unbound, her breasts were larger than expected. Adela’s skin was yet to be graced with battle scars, yet her muscles were toned from years of grueling work. Marcus drew closer, his nightmare forgotten.

    Adela shifted in her sleep, exposing her thighs. Marcus drew closer, and saw an inviting patch of curls preventing her from being fully exposed. With a frustrated groan, he grabbed her furs, and pulled them back up over her.

    He took a deep breath to steady himself. “Some squire you are,” he muttered. “Cannot even protect your Knight as he sleeps.” Marcus backed out the room, the image of her bare flesh seared into his mind. It would be a sleepless night…

    ***
    While Marcus tossed and turned, Clarell flew above a ravaged village. Landing nearby, she shifted out of her dragon form, keeping scaled armor for protection. It was easier to be stealthy when she looked human. There was no one left from which to hide, or get answers. Every door was smashed in, and a few of the huts had been burned down. Those not targeted had vanished.

    The strangest part was the town hall. There were seven corpses, laid out with care. A script on the floor read “Justice.” Clarell’s scaled skin turned clammy. As quickly as possible, Clarell shifted, and took flight. She fled to Castle Taronel, to tell the King. He stood, shocked, in his night-robes, and formulated a hasty plan. Near dawn, Clarell arrived at castle Bardol.

    Upon receiving the news, Dame Golden was furious, “I must investigate!” she raged. “I cannot sit idle with atrocities being committed so near my fiefdom.”

    “The people cannot know about this,” Clarell explained. “The King’s messenger was explicit on that point. Everyone recognizes you. Send a trusted, but unsung Knight.”

    “You are working for the King now,” Golden pondered, “and Robert is clearing the south borders of bandits. The rest are still children. That leaves only Marcus. I hate to have him leave my sight.”

    “It is no longer his job to keep you safe,” Clarell pointed out. “You have smothered him here.”

    “I know,” Dame Golden said with regret. “But I cannot just let him go. I will think it over, and chose who to send by midday. For now, send a priest to deal with the bodies.”

    ***

    As usual, Adela awoke before dawn to train. She bound her breasts, then slipped into her practical hose and tunic. It was a still, silent morning, punctuated only by the sounds of her thrusts against an imagined opponent. When dawn was full upon the land, she returned to wake Marcus.

    Adela brought breakfast, and drew the curtains to let the light wake him.

    She softly uttered, “Good morning Sir.”

    “Why is it light out already?” he groaned.

    “The magicians are still debating about that,” Adela retorted. “Some say that there is a Light God, others believe that magic turns the sun on and off, but most agree it is so that the moon does not have to work tirelessly.”

    Sir Hardwick just glared at her, “Would you stop being so terribly chipper?”

    “Kindly break your fast,” she said. “And trust me, you do not want to see me when I am not chipper.”

    Marcus grumbled, but began to ready himself for the day, “It is all your fault,” he muttered. “Barely a wink of sleep all night.”

    “What was that?” Adela asked.

    “Just go get my armor,” he commanded.

    Adela helped Sir Hardwick don his enchanted armor. She could not help but notice his muscles as she strapped him in. Usually this was just work, but today something seemed different. His gaze was oddly intense upon her. Her fingers felt clumsy against the feather light chainmail.

    “Calm down!” she mentally ordered herself. “He is only messing with you again.” However, she was glad when the time came for them to train with the others.

    Knights and squires were strewn about the field, honing their abilities, one group standing out among the others. There was Dame Golden, driving her multitude of squires hard, having them all attack her at once. Adela gave them a longing stare.

    “Why can you not have more squires?” Adela asked Sir Hardwick. Adela was Sir Hardwick’s only squire, and had to fill a position normally held by several people. At the age of 19, she had been with Sir Hardwick for five years already, and was itching to prove her worth, and become a Knight.

    Hardwick sighed, “You know I cannot afford it.”

    All that day, Sir Hardwick ran her ragged. Adela was sent to clean the stables, polish all of their armour immaculately, wash his clothes, and send messages: anything Marcus could think of to keep her out of his sight. She did not get her usual chance to spar with him, or lessons in chivalry from Dame Golden.

    Her day, however, was not completely wasted. In the stables, Adela found herself almost giving up. Sir Hardwick was being even more impossible than usual.

    “May I help?” came a masculine voice.

    “That would be wonderful,” Adela sighed in relief, turning to the man. He was appeared muscled, and capable. Together, they cleaned the stables quickly.

    “I never caught your name,” Adela said, wiping the sweat and dirt from her brow.

    “My name is Lynn,” said the handsome stranger. “And you are Adela, correct?”

    “Yes I am,” she replied, with a questioning glance.

    “I was sent to come help you,” he shrugged.

    “I thank your master then,” Adela said. “As well as you.”

    “The pleasure was mine,” Lynn grinned back. “I enjoyed spending time with a pretty squire.”

    “Sir Hardwick does not expect me for another hour,” Adela smiled. “Would you like to sneak out for a quick soak in the lake?”

    “I would enjoy nothing half as much as a soak with you.”

    They snuck out; Adela felt the thrill of doing something naughty. The lake was abandoned this time of the day. They quickly set to stripping; their simple hose and tunics were easy to untie. However, when Adela got to her breast-binding, Lynn stepped forward.

    “Let me help you,” he said, stepping close to her. Adela snuck glances at Lynn’s chiseled body. It was covered in scars and sweat. His steady hands unwound her binding, brushing against her skin.

    “You do not have to hide your glances,” Lynn said, staring into her eyes. To prove his point, He swept his gaze powerfully across her naked body. Sexuality wafted off of him, a palpable scent.

    It was unclear who moved first, but suddenly, their lips clashed with need. Lynn pulled her as close as they could get, and still, it was not enough. She pressed him against a nearby tree, and with responding dominance, Lynn pressed her to the ground. It was desperate clash of wills. Each needed to prove to the other that they were more powerful. Adela wrapped her legs around him, trying to spear herself on him. Instead, Lynn ground his desire against her core, driving her crazy, denying her what she wanted.

    “Just fuck me already!” Adela cried out, heady with lust.

    Lynn replaced his cock with his hand, and rubbed her pleasure center with fervor. As she quaked around his fingers, he thrust himself into her. Adelle lost all sense of time. They were just two bodies, enjoying all the pleasures they could provide.

    Between his fingers frenzied pace, and his rough thrusts, Adela came. Lynn felt her pulsing around his cock, and kept going. She had never felt something so primal. It seemed impossible, but his ministrations prolonged her pleasure. Adela’s moans undid him. Lynn quickly pulled out, and his cum fell like pearls against her breasts. Lynn picked her up, and carried her to the lake. He gently washed his cum off of her.

    “I hope we meet again,” he said, and walked off, leaving her laying in the cool water.

    Adela was still in a blissful post-coitus haze when Sir Hardwick found her.

    ~To be Continued~

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