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Chapter Forty-One
Skellhaundar, Calisto, Valanthe, and a half dozen other knights rode the boat across the Bay of Drowned Men to the harbor at Night's Watch. In their midst stood Ser Kian Brittain. He was out of his armor right now. Having been freshly scrubbed from a steam bath, Skellhaundar ordered eunuchs to slip Kian into a magically adjusting and skin-tight black rubber suit originally created by Horigum Khaine of "A Bespoke Fit." The tailor said that once it was donned, it would shrink to become a second skin on its wearer, and it would hold that shape forever.
As promised, the thing vacuumed tight over Kian's head and neck, hugging the angular jaw and fine bone structure of Kian's incredible face; the headpiece had no mouth, two holes for his eyes, and two holes for his nostrils. The thing's glossy finish caught the light in very suggestive ways, and hid none of Kian's delicious, shredded, and ropy physique.
In fact, it accentuated it.
To keep him warm on the journey across the bay, they draped Kian in a large robe made of forty wolf pelts; it fell from Kian's broad shoulders until it swept the ground. On his feet, he wore a matching pair of boots also made from wolf pelts and lined with rabbit fur. Both of these pieces of clothing were referred to as "The Skin of Evil," because everyone knew how wicked the Valion knights actually were, and the wolf was their totem animal.
The black suit was reserved only for those that became Timeron knights through the grueling events of the Blood Bowl, and Skellhaundar purchased it four years ago. He'd dusted it off himself, removing it from storage at the Arena of the Flayed Man. The color black signified the transformational process. Black in this case was darkness and ignorance. It was the sloth of a life bereft of any discipline or order. It would be peeled away and auctioned piece by piece to the public crowd in a gymnasium packed to capacity with a hundred individuals in it.
It was completely accidental that the outfit aroused everyone on the boat.
None of the men here had ever seen such a handsome boy, much less wearing the transformation suit. Skellhaundar couldn't take his eyes off the six-foot-one teenager. Kian, bar none, possessed the most amazing body he'd ever seen. If he didn't know any better, he'd have thought he looked upon an illusion because he believed it impossible that flesh could be this impeccable. And Skellhaundar was not alone in thinking this. The other knights (minus Calisto) crowded and bumped into Kian on purpose, making fools of themselves. Kian was a good sport about it, laughing and wrestling when appropriate. And despite the attention, Kian's wintry eyes looked relaxed behind his rubber mask. He faced the white-capped swells of the bay with that narrow, but extremely prominent hawkish nose of his. The angular planes of Kian's beak made Skellhaundar think of portraits hanging in the Gallery of Conquerors back in Dek Lek Thukar.
Kian hooked his bony thumbs in his belt, below which lay the long swell of a cock that belonged on a Clydesdale warhorse. It was stuffed down the right thigh and fell barely short of the knee. The freakish sight was impossible to ignore, all veins, ridges, and striations; it stretched the rubber to its limit so that all anyone could see was what looked like a mushroom with an eight-inch stalk. The fact that it was flaccid scared and excited everyone who saw it. And gods was that second skin ever detailed. Skellhaundar thanked his lucky stars that the wolf pelt cloak went to great lengths to hide all that meat from view. Otherwise, the one steering the boat might have capsized the ship because of the distraction.
As it was, Skellhaundar's men took turns telling the boy about the keep and asking Kian if he'd care to bunk with them. The boy hadn't made a choice, but Valanthe had pretty much claimed him. He stood next to Kian now, arm around his shoulder, and describing the various towers and their perfunctory functions to his "brother in arms." The long hairs on the wolf pelt cloak rustled in the bitter breeze; they brushed Valanthe's freckled cheek as he spoke enthusiastically about the pigskin games they played in the yard.
"You'll be on my team," Valanthe said to Kian. "I can't wait. We need a good quarterback, and I bet you're a natural."
"I'd love that," Kian said softly to Valanthe, voice a little muffled by the rubber.
This is the fun part of what we do, Skellhaundar thought. The knights aren't just soldiers, they're family. And today we get to add the best to that exclusive club. "Thank you so much," Taleta, Skellhaundar muttered under his breath.
Calisto, who overheard him, just glowered and stared at the approaching dock with arms folded across his chest. "Fuck Taleta," he said into the wind. "Fuck all of this. Fuck you, Skellhaundar."
Skellhaundar couldn't wait for the knighting ritual that would take place inside the keep's gymnasium. Even now, it was being turned into a kind of stage by recruits once they got word that a knight from the Blood Bowl was to receive spurs. Tickets to the event (open to anyone that could afford them) started selling at the arena the moment Kian was declared winner. There was only room for a hundred men and women, and at the cost of a thousand gold crowns a piece it took them thirty seconds to sell out. This of course came as a shock to many. The results of that ticket-buying frenzy was a bay full of small yachts all headed to the same event: to watch Kian's knighting ceremony (which would be standing room only for Zanda's wealthy elite).
Skellhaundar had final say on the knights that would be allowed into the gymnasium. Of course, Calisto was invited. Then Skellhaundar extended an invitation to Makidon, Valanthe, Damien, and a handful of squires and other knights to keep the peace. The ceremony would be overseen by the highest rank cleric of Taleta in all of Zanda, Tasha the Paingiver, and it would go something like this (there would be some differences in the actual production):
Tasha would call out important steps in the ritual, and bark orders to all who were involved. Makidon, Valanthe, and Damien would all serve as Kian's ceremonial "men at arms." Their responsibility was to remove the transformation suit and auction it off (the money would go for athletic supplies for the order's squires), escort Kian to the Auditor of Eilustriel (who would issue a measurement of beauty), and then Skellhaundar would inspect Kian's body with calipers and measuring tape to ensure that the auditor gave an accurate reading.
Then spurs would be chosen from a velvet box based on the findings and the events of the day.
Kian's ceremonial "men at arms" would each drink from a blessed wine goblet and say a prayer. Their tongues now considered holy, each knight would then approach the boy and ask him where he would like to receive a caress from their tongues to welcome him to the order (and this decision would be left up to the recruit). They would demonstrate their preference with a "May I caress your..." line, but ultimately Kian would have the final say.
Once permission was given, each man-at-arms would bestow their caress (not to exceed a minute) and then they would begin clothing him in official Timeron knight armor. They would leave his metal sabatons off, and two of the ceremonial "men-at-arms" would lift Kian onto their shoulders. Skellhaundar would kneel, lick Kian's feet clean one by one, tell him it's an honor to be his commanding officer, and then slip them each into a pair of sabatons. If Kian deliberately placed his feet on the general's pauldrons during any point of this ceremony, it was an invitation to fuck him in front of everyone while the ceremonial guard held onto the boy's ankles and wrists. Then Skellhaundar would put custom-fit black boots on Kian's feet and spur him, using one of three spurs in the holy box. His men would set Kian down, fasten a cloak to this back, and then give the Timeron chant. Kian would kneel before Skellhaundar and Tasha the Pain Giver, and Skellhaundar would knight him forever into the order with his sword.
And Skellhaundar prayed that Kian would touch his shoulders with his feet. Please, by all that is holy, let this happen to me today. But even if he didn't, Skellhaundar would be proud to have him. Once a knight, always a knight, Skellhaundar thought. That is our way. There will be plenty of time to get to know him.
If a knight fell out of favor, he still retained all his privileges. If he stood accused of crimes, a trial by combat was held. If the knight won, then all crimes were dismissed no matter how heinous. That's how things were handled in the Church of the Queen of Demons: simple, effective, and fraternal.
That's how Skellhaundar liked it.
The boat bounced off the pier at Night's Watch, and Makidon leapt over and secured it with a rope to an abutment. Skellhaundar and Calisto got out followed by the others. They marched in formation to the left and right of Kian, and escorted him up the frigid beach and into the training yard where five-hundred Timeron knights waited, representing the gold, silver, and bronze spurs. Calisto's own platinum guard, fell in behind the general.
They saluted Skellhaundar and stood at attention until the retinue disappeared into the corridor that led to the gymnasium.
Skellhaundar saw all the preparations had been made. He looked proudly at the flags of Noremost, of House Romax, and of the Keep of Anghul hanging from the rafters. The stage was set and lit with ten torches...the same number as there were Darkglories in the Church of Taleta. Elevated on thick beams of pine, the polished stage had an ancient history. It was used by actors for local plays and dramas to entertain the men, and for intimate ceremonial pageants like the spurring of a knight or even an entire graduating class.
On the stage, posed on a mannequin of wood, was Kian's own full suit of corobidian armor that he wore during the games. The craftsmen inspected this decorative and functional masterpiece, and they found it to be of incredible quality and totally authentic. Since it fit him perfectly, they saw no need to change it out. However, they did buff and polish it to a brilliant gleam. Seeing it now in such exhaustive detail moved Skellhaundar so much that he wiped tears from his eyes.
The metalwork required to make all those demon heads, the stars and the moons, to raise ridges along the corobidian that somehow (miraculously) matched Kian's veins, and to detail the outsized codpiece and form-fitted butt tasset must have taken armorers years, Skellhaundar thought. It's the finest piece in Taleta's army.
Incredible equipment like this made Skellhaundar drool, for he had worn the vambraces and cuirass of the Timeron knights for several decades now. If it wasn't going to be worn by the sexiest youth he'd ever seen, he might have insisted that it be sent back to Noremost for permanent display.
Kian's new tabard lay on a stand next to it. Like the other knights, it featured an eclipsed sun and a black star surrounded in a halo of blood; beneath this demons cavorted in a twisted reverie around a pile of bones. The thing was all dyed silk, and the colors never looked so bold against a background of midnight blue and black. When donned, this ornate sleeveless jerkin would drop to just above the poleyn.
On a table—folded neatly—lay Kian's black razor cloak, which he would need to train with at dawn. Made from a particular kind of wool that came from the Noremarian Mountains because of weight, strength, and warmth, the garment would attach to hooks hidden under the pauldrons. It had a hood and a linen lining of midnight blue. Inside the hem was sewn a flexible cibrian ribbon. Knights who became experts at fighting with the razor cloak oftentimes preferred it to the sword.
And then there were the boots.
These had been made by the Master Cobbler of the Keep of Anghul, Baryk Callowhorn. His family had been making footwear for Timeron knights for a thousand years, and he'd consented to come with Skellhaundar to open up shop here many years ago.
Kian's new boots were form-fitted to hug the outside of the metal sabatons and rise to just under the poleyn, encompassing the greaves. They had a liner that would wick moisture away from the metal to keep the feet inside toasty, warm, and dry. The outside was young black dragon hide, glossy and hard and covered in small scales the size of a thumbnail. They had the effect of shimmering in any kind of light. The boots had a one and a half inch heel and closed toe, pointed so as to slide into stirrups. They tightened around the ankle via four straps of supple blue dragon leather (from unhatched wyrmlings) and were finished with corobidian buckles covered in solid gold. The closed toe was decorated by a small human skull (also of gold). Gorgeous didn't even begin to describe them.
Kian's last piece of gear was a Noremarian belt, made of plaited links of square black corobidian and fashioned into a kind of chain to tighten about the waist. The buckle matched the ones on the boots, and the black corobidian links (each about two inches square) had many burnished holy symbols for the Queen of Demons, visages of dragons, and demonic maws.
Hanging from the belt was to be Kian's scabbard. The boy had his own longsword which was carried in a box by Makidon and Valanthe up to the stage where they put it on a solid oak table for presentation to the crowd. Skellhaundar admitted to never seeing anything quite like it, with a handle covered in strange veins and a red jewel on the pommel that looked a lot like a ruby of massive value. Skellhaundar reasoned that it had to be glass. Kian hadn't used the weapon during the competition and told Skellhaundar that it was given to him by his father. So Skellhaundar ordered it draped in the flag of Noremost out of respect. It would remain so until unveiled and buckled onto Kian's belt by his ceremonial men-at-arms.
Valanthe and Makidon led Kian behind the stage to give him instructions and to tell him all the rules of what would happen. While they did that, Skellhaundar paced on stage while Calisto looked on at the rich men and women that had paid to see tonight's extravaganza.
All the seats were taken in about half an hour, and the areas to the sides of the doors started to fill up with people pushing their way inside. Skellhaundar ordered windows opened to relieve the stuffiness in the room. Even still, the place had him sweating the same as if he stood in a blast furnace.
The crowd eagerly crushed forward, taking up every inch of available space. Women and men fanned themselves and talked in hushed whispers.
After all the tickets were counted, Makidon (now at the back of the room) signaled Skellhaundar to begin. Tasha the Pain Giver appeared from behind a curtain. The ugliest woman Skellhaundar had ever seen, Tasha's age lay somewhere between thirty and forty. But she was scarred on one half of her face by flame at some point in the past and walked with a limp. One eye was gray and cloudy while the other looked sharp and brown upon the assembled spectators. She strode forward, casting a spell upon Skellhaundar so that his voice could be heard clearly within the room. By that time, Makidon had made his way forward and joined Valanthe and Damien on their knees in front of the table. These three knights were dressed in full battle regalia, and though it was hot and sweaty, each did not remove his helmet or raise his visor.
They also knelt perfectly still.
"Thank you for joining us on this special occasion," Skellhaundar said. "Today we witnessed incredible athletic talent on the battlefield of the Arena of the Flayed Man. Tonight we are ready to witness a transformation of a boy into a Timeron knight. I present to you, Kian Brittain.
Calisto (standing at the back of the stage) pulled aside the curtain, and Kian walked forward still wearing the rubber bodysuit and wolf cloak he'd donned to cross the Bay of Drowned Men. He stepped forward, turned sideface, and stood at attention gazing at Skellhaundar's profile (which was still addressing the audience).
"The men I have chosen are exemplarary. One is from the Order of Silver Spurs and is represented by Ser Makidon Oberon. The second is from the Order of the Bronze Spurs and is represented by Ser Damien Kyrell. The third is from the Order of the Gold Spurs and is represented by Ser Valanthe Cicero." Valanthe broke tradition and gave the audience a bit of a wave. This caused laughter to break out among the men and women. "These knights for this ceremony are Brittain's men-at-arms. Valanthe, will you please lead Squire Brittain to the Auditor of Eilustriel."
"Yes, ser," Valanthe said, tapping his heels. "Come on, Kian," he whispered taking the boy's hand in his. Valanthe led Kian over to the naked, yet very human-like doll. "Put your hands around her neck and say, `Rate me.' She's going to assign you a number like so."
Valanthe demonstrated the device to Kian, standing in front of the Auditor and placing his arms around her shoulders as if to kiss her. From behind his helmet he said, "Rate me."
It animated and her topaz-colored eyes oriented on Valanthe. "Five-foot eleven inches, one-hundred seventy pounds, and ten percent body fat." She tilted her head to one side. "Seven-inch erect penis, ginger hair, eyes the color of new pennies, white skin and pure bred. Age nineteen. Athletic jock body type with some wisps of body hair. You are a seven. This lies in the top five percent of the male population worldwide."
There were a few gasps from the audience and at least one woman said (too loudly), "I'd like to see Valanthe naked."
Valanthe stepped back and high-fived Kian. "Now it's your turn, bro," Valanthe said. "Don't worry, you'll rate at least as high as me."
Kian stepped forward and (at Valanthe's urging) also draped his hands on the machine's shoulders and whispered, "Rate me."
The Auditor animated and said, "Six-foot-one inches, one-hundred forty pounds, and no subcutaneous fat." She tilts her head to one side. "Twelve-inch erect penis, white blond hair, blue eyes, age..." The auditor hung up on this part for a moment, as if having difficulty determining Kian's physical years. It finally said, "Nineteen. White skin, athletic twink body type with no body hair at all except in the groin and pits. You are a ten. No human male alive has been like you in a thousand years. You are unique."
A collective gasp surged from the lips of the attendees.
Kian stepped back from the auditor and Valanthe was frozen in place, staring at him. For that matter, everyone was except for Tasha the Paingiver.
"Valanthe," Tasha said, "when you remove his rubber mask, you must face him away from the audience. It must be the last piece of gear you remove. Then I immediately instruct you to put his helmet on with the visor down."
An uproar in the audience began in the front row from a woman. "We paid good money to see this!"
"Show his face! We demand it!" another spectator in the crowd yelled.
Skellhaundar shouted, "Silence! You paid to see a knight get his spurs. You will see this. But the wise Tasha has spoken. Kian's face cannot be unseen, so we choose to keep it hidden to preserve his anonymity. It would be wrong to see it show up on trinkets and curios throughout the city, as I'm sure there are artisans here right now using magic to capture his image forever on papyrus and transfer it to shirts and mugs. Valanthe, do as you've been instructed. Kian, ultimately the decision is up to you, but I would advise that you keep your face veiled in armor during this entire event. We know what you look like. That's all that matters."
"Yes, ser," Kian said respectfully. "I choose to keep my head hidden to all but my closest friends." Then he took off the wolf pelt cloak and boots and left them in a pile at center stage.
This statement produced a hundred groans. People threatened to leave and demand their money back until Kian stepped forward with Valanthe and allowed Valanthe to remove a single rubber glove. As his naked left hand became visible, a hush gathered over the men and women. Valanthe tugged on it with his fingers, almost like a striptease, and it slipped from Kian's hand with a drop of sweat striking the stage.
"The bidding on Kian's left glove will start at one gold crown," Skellhaundar said.
"I'll bid two," a woman said.
"Make it five," a man said from the back.
"Ten!" `Twenty!" "Twenty-five!" the bids flowed in finally capping at "Thirty-nine gold crowns" from a shapely elf wearing a turquoise dress studded in sequins.
"For a fuckin' glove? How much was ever bid on something like this?" Calisto whispered to Skellhaundar.
The general shook his head, looking at the flawless white skin of Kian's large, long-fingered, and vein-covered hands. Kian flexed them almost unconsciously, and the bones stood out under the flesh. "I'm not sure...maybe a silver coin or two? This is unprecedented."
"So is his beauty," Calisto stated.
Kian's other rubber glove went for just as much.
Valanthe stepped aside and let Damien move in. Kian held his arms over his head and Damien removed Kian's rubber shirt, sliding it inch by tantalizing inch up his torso. As it came free, lots of sweaty (and gleaming) muscles, rib bumps, and veins appeared. When Damien lifted it free of Kian's head, sweat splashed the stage.
"The shirt has his musk in it," Damien said, taking a whiff and holding it up for the crowd to see. He winked at Kian from behind his helmet and softly thrummed his fingers through the top of Kian's thatch of white blond pubes, getting his gauntlets shiny with Kian's man dew. "Nice," he whispered.
Kian returned the wink.
"We'll start bidding at one gold crown," Damien said.
"Twenty gold crowns!" an Amserran yelled from the back. That started a bidding war that went on for ten minutes. It finally ended with a short, fat merchant with wobbly cheeks and a pinched expression offering to pay one-hundred seventy-nine crowns. Damien handed the rubber shirt off to a squire who took it to the man and collected the money. Skellhaundar noted that the buyer immediately started licking the sweat from the inside, and holding the scented armpits to his face, giving complimentary nods to those around him.
Then Makidon came forward, and Damien resumed his place next to Valanthe, who stood just behind Kian's shoulder. Makidon took his gauntleted hand and gingerly placed them underneath Kian's waistband. Kian sucked in his gut a little, making his abs and ribs flare in the light. They were so defined that the edges of each muscle looked cut from alabaster by a razor. Kian nodded (signaling he was ready) and Makidon pulled Kian's pants down. All eyes fixated on Kian's groin (of course) and as Makidon tugged, inch by agonizing inch of Kian's huge ropy dick revealed itself. When he reached the tip, the whole thing plopped free, swinging there as Makidon dropped Kian's rubber pants all the way to the floor.
Silence was cut short by shocked murmurs, gasps, and even curses; the appearance of Kian's bizarre genitalia caused awe itself to ripple through the crowd. People called his white, glistening cock "beautiful", "grotesque," and even "monstrous." Others said, "That thing's an abomination...all those veins and tendons sticking out! He would destroy whomever he fucked!" Others came to Kian's defense and cried out, "He's the most incredible thing I've ever laid eyes upon!" Some even uttered heresy and declared, "On your knees before him. He's the son of Taleta and birthed from a demon womb! This boy's got god's blood in his veins!"
Kian stepped free of the rubber pants, and Makidon held them up to the crowd. "Bidding will begin at one gold crown." A fight almost ensued as people shouted out numbers.
Now naked save for the rubber mask, Kian's long, narrow, and bony feet left footprints of sweat on the stage. But for all the attention, the long-legged youth looked relaxed, as if he were used to people gaping in awe at his body.
Several men and women in the front row crowded the stage to get a better look, and the knights and squires kept them back by unsheathing their swords.
"Back away from the platform," Skellhaundar warned. "We appreciate your patronage, but this is a solemn ceremony."
Men shared eyepieces to get a better look. One in the front, a skinny man in his seventies, said, "The sheath is uncut; the skin without blemish or mark and smooth save...for that...thing...that incredible pubis and swollen scrotum...so hairy and white! Gods does it look out of place on him, but the asymmetry of it..." the man paused to wipe drool from his mouth. "The tattoo on his arm is so lifelike that the leaves look like they are fluttering in a wind. It must be a trick of the light."
"Look there," another man said, placing the monacle over his own eye. "The tattoo on his ankle. I've never seen anything like it. What is that? I think it's the head of a black dragon in front of a red moon. Fascinating."
Skellhaundar's eyes immediately fell to the ivory flesh on Kian's ankle.
He recalled the words of the Night's Daughter. She said to him, "It is said that the man will be loved equally by the Church of Taleta and the Church of Tethyr, and that the fairest general will not raise a hand against him...make friends with him, treat him with respect, but have him followed. He has some important part to play in all of the many events leading up to the Queen of Demons being freed from her shackles. We must not stand in the way, but foster conditions which allow us to achieve our goal. Just don't fall in love, Skellhaundar."
Skellhaundar raised his gaze and saw that Kian was looking at him with great intensity through the eyeholes of the rubber mask. Those ageless eyes were so lovely, but Skellhaundar could see the boy swallow nervously.
The pronounced Adam's apple bobbed on his sinewy throat, and a trickle of sweat appeared on the skin around Kian's right ocular socket.
Is Kian a spy for the Church of Tethyr? Is this a coincidence? Do I even care? Taleta's Tears I just want him for myself. I can't say anything...the prophecies have been wrong before. It's just a mark...meaningless ink. A coincidence. Dragons and moons are a common enough symbol that a small percentage of the population is going to have tattoos like this. All of these thoughts ran through Skellhaundar's mind in an instant.
A rich woman uttered, "I will have your baby, Ser Brittain!"
"Three-hundred ninety gold crowns?" Makidon yelled. "Is there more?"
"Four hundred!" shouted another patron.
"Five-hundred!" interrupted yet someone else with a full purse of coin.
Then a fight broke out with people punching and kicking others to keep them silent from the auction. Knights and squires went into the crowd to establish order, and all the while the frenzied bidding for Kian's sweaty rubber pants continued. It eventually stopped some ten minutes later just shy of two-thousand gold crowns. The winner—three women that looked like sisters near the door—paid eagerly and the garment was delivered promptly into their hands once the gold was collected.
"This is insane," Calisto whispered to Skellhaundar.
Tasha the Paingiver wheeled out a table with calipers and measuring tapes atop it. It also had a cabinet door behind which Skellhaundar knew was a decanter of holy wine and a sacred goblet. She motioned for Kian to turn away from the crowd and even though there were some "Boos" the crowd enjoyed the look of Kian's glutes, the incredibly detailed musculature of his back, and the view of his hamstrings and calves enough, that those criticisms quickly died. Kian even posed a little, flexing while the table was moved into place, but his posture showed he was getting a little uncomfortable with the lascivious comments directed at him.
"Please don't let them rape me," Skellhaundar heard Kian whisper to Valanthe. "I'm a little afraid."
The ginger knight placed his hand on Kian's chest and winked at him. "I would die before I allowed that to happen, my friend," he whispered. "Relax."
"He has such broad shoulders," came a compliment from the crowd.
Another asked, "Have you ever seen that much thigh gap?" and "his hip bones frame his butt and waist...notice how everything seems to flow outward from the angular planes there. The symmetry is extraordinary. A finer boy has never been birthed."
Valanthe swapped out Kian's rubber mask very quickly. Off it came, and then (without pausing) Valanthe slipped the black chainmail hood over Kian's towhead and then crowned him with the gorgeous helmet, carefully lowering the visor into place. When Kian turned back around, the crowd could still only see the boy's intense eyes (and the little bit of flesh around them).
Valanthe then auctioned off the hood, which eventually sold for five-hundred gold crowns, while Skellhaundar took measurements using the tools supplied by Tasha the Paingiver. Everything was precisely as the Auditor of Eilustriel had declared, and Skellhaundar said, "Your holiness...the machine's declaration is flawless. Kian really is a `ten.'"
"I suspected as much," Tasha the Paingiver replied.
Carefully, and with much ceremony, Tasha the Paingiver removed the sacred gold goblet and filled it with blood red wine from a crystal decanter. Muttering a prayer over it, she then passed it to everyone on stage. Every knight present took a sip from it, even Calisto, until it was finally given to Kian to drink from. Valanthe opened Kian's visor enough for the edge of the vessel to touch his lips; Makidon held the actual cup.
As Kian drank from it, Tasha the Paingiver led a prayer:
"Taleta, Queen of Demons, Goddess of the Night,
We present a man before you and beseech you to take him to your bosom forever.
Here is a man who is transformed,
He shall be the watcher, the sword, the judge, and the executioner.
He is the one that swears his spirit to you from this day until the end of days.
Look upon his flesh, see that this gift is the best that we can offer.
Take him and refresh him with your spirit.
Kian Brittain stands ready to receive your blessing.
The knights who will be his brothers will welcome him with a kiss."
Kian indicated that he was done drinking and the sacred goblet was returned to Tasha the Paingiver. Then she motioned for Damien to present himself to Kian. The gorgeously dressed Timeron knight of the Bronze Spur Order strode forward and through his black helmet he said, "I, Ser Damien Kyrell welcome you, Ser Kian Brittain, to the Order of Timeron Knights. May I caress your...nipples...if it please you?"
Kian nodded, and Damien took off his helmet. The young man on the other side of that corobidian metal possessed fair skin, a sharp angled nose, and narrow face. Gingerly and respectfully, he lowered his head to Kian's muscular chest and flicked the end of Kian's left nipple. Then he suckled on it gently, teasing it with his tongue. At about the thirty second mark, he switched to the other nipple and repeated the procedure until it stood erect on Kian's chest and literally dripped spit.
The effect on Kian was noticeable, as his penis visibly stiffened into a gentle upward curve and was now a good deal longer and thicker than it was a minute ago, although still far from hard.
"Thank you," Kian said, and Damien replaced his helmet and moved out of the way for Makidon.
The silver-spurred Timeron knight took his place in front of Kian. He carefully positioned his body so that no part of his armor brushed against Kian's dick, and then said, "I, Ser Makidon Oberon welcome you, Ser Kian Brittain, to the Order of Timeron Knights. May I caress your...g-genitals...with my blessed tongue?"
Kian seemed to consider this for about ten seconds, and then gave his permission.
Makidon slowly sunk to his knees before Kian, respectfully removed his gauntlets, and then raised his visor out of the way of his mouth. As gingerly as he could, Makidon rolled back the layers of Kian's glistening foreskin, revealing the soft moist and white dickhead for all to see. Makidon lapped at Kian's urethra, pushing his tongue inside the slit and then suckled on the end with his wet lips. He licked the shaft shiny, cradled Kian's balls, and managed to insert the whole end of Kian's meatus into his mouth once before the minute was up.
As he rose to his feet once more, Kian had a full foot-long erection and was trembling but still (somehow) managed to stand at attention. His cock in this state had a glorious upward curve despite its weight and thickness.
"Thank you," Kian whispered, almost choking on the words.
Tasha the Paingiver said, "It shall be noted that Ser Brittain appears to be right at home in our Order." This caused a few laughs from the audience.
Then it was Valanthe's turn. He stood in front of Kian and said, "I, Ser Valanthe Cicero welcome you, Ser Kian Brittain, to the Order of Timeron Knights. May I caress...your...g-gash?"
Kian nodded, turned around, and Valanthe placed Kian's hands on the table, bending him over slightly. Both Damien and Makidon moved to either side, placing a gauntlet on one of each of Kian's round butt cheeks to spread them slightly (because he was nervous and flexing); Valanthe removed his helmet. Valanthe kneeled before Kian's ass, spit on it, and then licked the white slit. His tongue moved up and down between Kian's muscular cheeks, lavishing attention on Kian's small tight pucker. Then as the minute was almost up, he pressed his tongue inside, licking up whatever he found there, and bestowed a kiss on the cute boy hole. This act made Kian visibly quake. When it was over, Valanthe and the others stepped to one side and Kian stood back up to face Tasha the Paingiver and Skellhaundar.
"Thank you, Valanthe," Kian said.
Skellhaundar cleared his throat, appearing to adjust himself slightly. "Men-at-arms, you may armor your brother."
This part of the ceremony took about five minutes. Kian was put into his armor piece-by-piece, and the donning of all that cold metal made Kian's erection subside by the time the butt tasset was fastened into place and his penis tucked away behind the large (but oddly appropriate) codpiece. Kian was draped with his tabard, the pauldrons were put on after that, and then his cloak was hung. All that remained were the placing of his sabatons and the donning of those splendid boots.
Skellhaundar motioned for Makidon and Valanthe to hoist Kian onto their shoulders. Damien stood at the rear, pressing his hand to the small of Kian's back to steady him. Then Skellhaundar got to his knees in front of Kian, the sabatons, boots, and gold spurs placed on a cushion to his right.
Skellhaundar was finally face to face with the teen's stunning feet, and he just wanted to live in this moment forever.
The visceral look to them, the narrowness and length, the high arch and soft heel, and the veins over the top and sides took Skellhaundar's breath away. The toes were long and bony, but sheathed in flawless skin and with amazingly clear and carefully trimmed nails. Of course they didn't touch, and Skellhaundar took them to his lips gently with his hand. He sniffed at them, but he detected no unseemly smell. Instead, there was a light odor of rain...a little more of leather and rubber. Perhaps even a bit of boot polish. Flattening his tongue, Skellhaundar licked up Kian's sole, making the boy shudder. He slid his tongue between the long, delicate toes and over the skin on top. He sucked on each of them, savoring the salt. After two minutes of such worship, both of Kian's feet gleamed with spit and even dripped some.
Then Skellhaundar stopped and slipped sabatons onto both of them, tightening the screws that would hold them into place. Next he put Kian's long boots on, and buckled those to his calves.
"Do you wish to place your boots on your general's shoulders?" Tasha the Paingiver asked.
Kian lifted his feet, almost as if he were going to, and then changed his mind. "I'm sorry, ser," Kian said to Skellhaundar. "Not tonight."
The general paused for a second to clear his mind and to curse his luck. Then he said, "Let it be known, that from this point forward, Ser Kian Brittain is a member of the gold spurs and a Timeron knight!" Then he fastened each of the gold spurs to the heels on Kian's boots. Following that, Valanthe and Makidon set Kian down. He promptly got to his knees before Skellhaundar, who drew forth his sword.
"I knight you Ser Kian Brittain. Rise, brother," Skellhaundar said. Meanwhile his "men-at-arms" buckled his belt around his waist, and they unwrapped Bloodbane to hang it on Kian's left hip.
Applause filled the room and even though Kian's face was covered with his helmet, the boy's smiling eyes told Skellhaundar everything he needed to see.
"God, country, general, and brother. This is my oath, and I swear to uphold the tenants of Taleta until my death!" the Timeron Knights (and Kian) chanted. "Loyalty above all, service above all, and brotherhood everlasting."
Calisto, on the other hand, stormed from the room.
The complete novel is now available to read at http://slckismet.blogspot.com/p/discussion-board-for.html under the label "The Orb of Winter" if you care to read ahead.
I'm prepping "The Orb of Winter" for publication on Kindle. The cover art for it is done. Anyone that wants to see it can pop over to http://slckismet.blogspot.com/p/news.html. It features a new picture of Kian on the cover :).
If you go to my website forum directly from this posting, you will want to begin with "CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO."