Age of Mycea (Book 1 - Chapter 1)
Two years later - By some miracle, they survived, now the look on the king's face was telling. Their night together had meant more to him than he was letting on.
In the first installment of Age of Mycea
2 years later
Their horses tripped along through the mud, throwing wet clods of earth upon the forelimbs and hooves of the beast behind them, the heavy downfall of rain making matters increasingly worse.
A lumbering cart and twelve armed men atop twelve horses.
A road centuries old.
Scattered, plodding, the autumn winds were bending the trees along the narrow road that had been traveled countless times to undertake this task. The Capital Region was far from vast, fortuitously. The small villages of lumber suppliers that occupied the valley surrounding the Neter colony on the planet of Mycea were few but spread a fair distance apart.
It would take them the better part of two weeks to reach them all.
The task was simple. Collect taxes, hear grievances, and log new applicants eligible to receive military widows’ pensions. It was time-consuming and tedious for all involved.
Sebastian shifted in his saddle, finding enjoyment in the comforting creak of the leather and the scent drifting up from his wet gloves, reins, and leather breastplate. Months, sometimes years, on various battlefields had warmed him to the subtle sensations of simply being alive.
The Neter Round Road, with its rutted surface, unavoidable pits of thick mud, and dense Mycean forests overshadowing it, was as familiar to him as the Neter colony itself. His quarterly task was to make this trip: him, nine of his best men, and the bookkeeper.
Sebastian straightened, peering above the shoulders of the men in front of him.
This time was different. King Meshia had decided at the last minute to come with them. He desired to meet the citizens in their home villages to hear their grievances rather than have them travel to the Neter colony. Sparing them the long trek to the opulent palace he called home.
The king’s natural inclination did not typically lean in the direction of accommodation when it came to his citizens. It was a welcome change. Something had shifted in the king since the war on Kronos. The battle had left scars, not all of them visible.
The ground grew increasingly pungent the more the rain fell, the horses’ hooves and the wheels of the cart churning up the wet, fragrant soil. Of all the planets, Mycea was one of the wettest. Only rivaled by Kaenum, a planet whose military was always seeking its independence from the empire. They were also disorganized, leading to tactical mistakes.
They’d been under the empire’s thumb for over a century.
They were going to stay there.
Sebastian adjusted his reins, switching hands. Up ahead, the king led the procession: his posture exuded self-assurance and confidence in his position. King Meshia was a born ruler. Decisive, intelligent, and impartial. He ruled with the skill of one many decades older than himself.
The respect Sebastian felt for him was immense.
He watched the languid motion of the king’s body, his hips, his shoulders rocking rhythmically with the movement of his horse. Sebastian grunted his appreciation. He had followed those broad shoulders into many battles in the ten years he had served under him.
He would lay down his life to protect them; die for the man wielding them.
Sebastian scrubbed a hand across his mouth. It had been two years since he had been summoned to the king’s tent on Kronos. Two years of wondering what it had meant.
If anything at all.
They had lost many soldiers the following morning, but a blizzard had moved in, giving them the cover they needed to adjust their position. They had barely escaped with their lives. Reinforcements had arrived the next day, and they had driven the Marjar from the planet, maintaining control over the valuable source of ore that was crucial to their military.
His relationship with the king had been strained for a while—awkward even. Time had improved that. Now their interactions bordered on playful. His comfort level with the military leader he served so faithfully had developed into a friendship of sorts.
He was careful not to expose the shift in their relationship in front of his troops. The king was, as always, first a monarch. Addressing him had protocols Sebastian felt compelled to observe.
Woefully, being subservient came naturally to him—an unfortunate remnant of his heritage. The struggle to overcome it and become a leader had not come easily.
Sebastian of Cardin, Commander of the Third. The title had been hard-earned. He had worked his way up from the very bottom. Lower than the bottom. He was Cardinian, and Cardinians did not typically amount to anything more than their master’s favorite slave.
The opportunities he had been afforded were thanks to his former owner. A young girl, named Lakeda, now the queen to his king, had insisted that he receive a complete Mycean education in their childhood. Mandatory military training included.
On her eighteenth birthday, the day she unexpectedly set him free, she had given him the most incredible gift he could have received. Freedom and the education and training to thrive.
It was midday, and it seemed they were not stopping for a break. The king likely wanted to get to the next village before nightfall. They had fallen behind because of the heavy rain, which was soaking everything. The canvas of the cart they used to store supplies and the variety of taxes collected was sagging in places and darkening from the wet.
Sebastian shivered.
The turning of the cart’s wheel was causing him a great deal of annoyance. The timing was off. Not even suitable to hum a tune along with. One-two-three-four-pop. A beat of five, time and again. One-two-three-four-pop. He directed his attention elsewhere—namely, his stomach.
Sebastian tied his reins and flipped open one of his saddlebags. It took him less than a moment to magically conjure an apple and a loaf of sourdough bread into its interior.
He took a large bite of the apple. It was not stealing. Not really. The proprietor at the last inn had offered them any provisions they needed. The fact that he had taken some now rather than when he had been standing there in the inn should not matter.
What mattered was that no one saw what he was doing.
It was a learned fact that, throughout history, few Cardinians had the capability to conjure. Those who were discovered to have them were considered dangerous. Often killed. Sebastian knew of only one other: a powerful wizard-level conjurer. One he would protect at any cost.
“How do you still have food, Commander?”
A massive soldier to his left, one that had served with him for years, leaned toward him. Half of his face was marred by the effects of a broadsword slicing through his flesh, leaving him with only one good eye. He was a good man, Krunk. Loyal.
He had volunteered to come on this venture to act as a bodyguard for the king. All the men on this trip were from Sebastian’s battalion. Over the years, he had cultivated a steadfast crew.
Sebastian grinned. “Superior rationing skills, I guess.”
“Pass me some of that bread.” Krunk snorted his appreciation when Sebastian ripped a hunk of bread from the round and handed it to him. There was more than enough to go around.
Especially when he could conjure more whenever it ran out.
It was the perfect solution to his constant hunger. If it were not considered unseemly to be seen drinking wine atop his horse in front of the monarch, life would be perfect.
Many hours later, the village of Sibas came into view as they crested a hill. The first thing one noticed about Sibas was the abundance of wood carvings. They began long before you saw the rustic log-hewn buildings. This was a community of carvers—a people in love with their surroundings. It always brought Sebastian joy to see the artistry in the totems and animal carvings.
The totems often stood 15 feet tall, though some were taller. Each family had its own ranking of animals, carved in the form of their lineage. Smaller depictions of bears, foxes, cougars, and even rabbits littered the square at the center of the village. Most of the main buildings faced that square. Residences tended to be scattered throughout the surrounding hills.
The inn they were headed for lay directly in the village center.
Once there, Sebastian swung his leg over his horse’s head and slipped off his saddle, landing deftly on his feet. He passed his reins to one of the inn’s stable hands.
King Meshia headed straight for the inn, but Sebastian held back. Soon, news of their arrival would circulate throughout the village. Before long, women would be gathering at the inn looking for him. It was a side of his routine he preferred the king not be privy to.
Sebastian snorted out a laugh. If the king did not know by now that the commander of his third battalion had a penchant for amenable company, he had not been paying attention. It was different now, though. Now that the two of them had been intimate. Or maybe it wasn’t. A night of weakness is hardly a reason to change how I live my life when in the king’s company.
He pulled the canvas of the cart tight and retied the knot, securing it for the night. They had collected extraordinarily little so far. It was unlikely anyone would be so bold as to break into the king’s tax cart. They would be disappointed if they did. All the coins were with the bookkeeper and would be guarded within the inn. The cart only contained in-kind tax contributions. Mostly chickens. They would be eating chicken for the entire journey if this trend continued.
Stalling techniques at their natural conclusion, Sebastian headed for the inn. One he knew well. The men were already gathered in the pub area. The volume of their voices drowned out the conversations of other patrons. They were a raucous group. One of the reasons he typically chose these same men to make the tax rounds with him. They made the entire boring venture more entertaining and salaciously worthy of their Cardinian commander.
Sebastian slipped onto a portion of a bench at the end of the table next to Krunk. King Meshia, who had seated himself at the head of the table, was to his left. The king looked lost amidst the chaos that Sebastian’s men were creating. Drink and food orders were flying with little regard to the fact that the head of the empire was seated at the same table with them.
The proprietress spotted Sebastian’s raised hand and made her way over to their table, one hand on her hip. “Yes, Commander, you beckoned.”
“Sasha darling, I think the king would like to order.”
Sasha, to her credit, did not falter. She pulled off a perfect curtsy, head bowed.
“Your Majesty. I had no idea. Please accept my apologies.”
Meshia waved his hand at her, dismissing her atonement. “Two drafts of your best beer and two ….” He looked at Sebastian and smirked. “Make that three meat pies.”
Head bowed, she curtsied, then backed away. “Your Majesty.”
“You know me so well,” Sebastian whispered. Krunk was occupied with a conversation at the other end of the table. It was just the two of them. The thought made Sebastian feel warm inside. He could not shake the memory of what they had done together in that tent on Kronos.
Meshia had been a tender, generous lover. Spending his time acquainting himself with every curve and angle of Sebastian’s body. His soft lips seeking out those areas that would drive Sebastian wild with desire. The passion he had shown that night was evident in everything Meshia did. Sebastian could see that now. And it made it harder to forget—to let go.
“You’re always hungry.”
Sebastian softened his expression. “For more than food.”
“Yes, well ….” Meshia took a sip of the beer set before him. The white foam collected on his upper lip, pooling at the peak. The temptation to lean over and lick the froth from Meshia’s lips was nearly overwhelming. Sebastian cleared his throat and took a sip of his own beer.
Giggling could be heard coming through the front door of the inn. Sebastian leaned back, preparing himself. The evening’s entertainment was there in full force. Celina had brought her cousin with her again. Sebastian set his beer down. Gertrude? His last time in Sibas was a bit of a blur. Without Meshia’s presence, drinking astride his horse was not an uncommon occurrence.
He usually arrived in Sibas three bottles of wine ahead of the game.
Sebastian broke out his best smile as the two women approached. “Celina, darling, aren’t you just the most scrumptious thing in the whole damned place this evening?” The sentiment was genuine. Celina was a beautiful woman. And crazy intelligent. They had spent as much time talking as they had fucking over the years. Maybe more.
Celina slipped into Sebastian’s lap and wrapped an arm around his neck, nuzzling his ear. Gertrude brushed her hands through his hair as she came to stand behind him.
The look on Meshia’s face was telling.
Their night together had meant more to him than he was willing to let on.
“I’ll eat later.” Meshia rose to his feet, pushing his chair back. He laid one Neter gold coin down on the table. Enough to pay for whatever food, drink, or entertainment Sebastian’s men might find themselves craving tonight. He tapped his finger on it, then turned and left the inn.
The story continues …
 | A guest post by
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The King and Sebastian survived the battle, won the war, and now it seems life is back to whatever normalcy there was 2 years before. But, as the evening begins in Sibas, both the King and Sebastian are wishing they weren't at the table or with other people.
Gavin, great writing as the tension slowly builds.