Martial made a personal note to stop drinking.
It wasn’t the first time he’d done that.
After having been around as long as he had, seeing the things he had seen, lost the people he had lost, it wasn’t easy to avoid the drink.
He needed to try harder. There was a new threat on the horizon. Or maybe an old threat…
Martial rode through the town on his black stallion, Macy sitting behind him, her arms wrapped around his waist. He passed the terraced houses of old, most repaired over time to now show a combination of dirty brick, stone, cement and even wood.
Leaving it behind, they crossed over to the newer part of the town, the part built after the demons emerged from Hell and the angels poured down from Heaven. The roads were wider, the houses bigger and detached, each surrounded by a wall that enclosed large front gardens.
It was nice, much too nice for a small town. Maybe there was some sort of mine nearby, or something else from which Flittick was making his wealth… it did make sense why there were three other Legacies in the town.
“What do you know about the Legacies?” Martial asked. “What generation are they?”
“I think the Mistress is third generation,” Macy replied. “I’m not sure about her two apprentices.”
Third generation. The first generation were direct descendants of Immortals. There weren’t many of those about. Immortals didn’t have large families. Rumour had it quite a few were unable to bear children at all.
The first-generation Legacies didn’t have that problem. Some had enormous families. They saw it as their duty to produce as many Legacies as possible to protect the humans. That was back when Legacies were still honourable, and not honourable by their own definition.
Now, most Legacies ruled over settlement, villages, towns or cities. They answered to the queen, who was an Immortal, but ruled their own little patches like mini fiefdoms. There was little to no honour left in them.
“We’re almost there,” Macy said.
“Yup,” Martial muttered.
He could hear the noise from the crowd that stood outside Flittick’s house while they were still a few streets away. When they finally turned the corner, the crowd came in view. It was larger than Martial had expected. They had spilled out onto the road, blocking it completely.
“Stay with my horse,” Martial told Macy.
He stepped out on foot and waded his way through the crowd. The closer he got towards Flittick’s house, the thicker the crowd was. Martial had to barge his way through them. A few muttered their annoyances, one even grabbed hold of his shoulder. He let go promptly as Martial turned, all six foot and a half of him, and glared at the man.
Finally, making it to the front, he found a bunch of men wearing cloaks and with swords by their waist, standing by the front gate.
“What’s going on here?” Martial asked.
“Who are you?” asked a man wearing a red cloak, his hand resting on the handle of his sword. His tone wasn’t friendly, nor was the expression on his face.
“Whose asking?” Martial responded as he squared up to the man.
Martial was taller. He was built better too. After staring at each other, eye to eye, the man backed down.
“The name’s Perry. I run the local militia, protect the nearby valleys.”
“Protect it from what?”
“There are metals in the valley, used to build weapons. You don’t know that?” Perry frowned and took a step towards Martial once more. “Who are you?”
In the grand scheme of things, it was a small operation, but large enough for the nice houses, for the militia, and for Perry to feel important.
“I’m a Legacy,” Martial said, deciding it was time to pull rank.
It did the job. Perry literally leapt back three steps. “Sorry- I, I didn’t mean… I’m sorry, Sir.”
“It’s fine. What the hell’s going on here?”
Perry gave him a quick update.
There were two Legacies inside the house. They killed Flittick and took the remaining staff hostage. A few managed to get out, including one of Flittick’s personal guards. Perry nodded at the girl standing by the gate. She was pretty much naked, save for the collar around her neck, the metal straps around her breasts, and the belt around her waist, from which hung her sword. She had a cut on her arm that was fresh, blood still dropping from it, though not at a rate to be alarmed.
“She saw it happen. Flittick was brought two girls from his brothel. They were sent up to his room to wait for him. When he turned up after breakfast, the girls killed him. Ripped his head off, apparently.”
Martial’s lips spread into a grin. The girls had little for way of subtlety, but ripping off Flittick’s head, damn, that was cool.
Martial walked past Perry and approached the iron gate of black and gold. None of the men stopped him as he walked past. Entering the grounds, he spotted Michelle immediately.
She stood on the first floor balcony, a sword in hand, beside her was another girl he didn’t recognise, but guessing by the way she was dressed, wearing no clothing save for the collar around her neck and the brass wrapped around her breasts, he imagined it was Flittick’s other female guard.
Martial waved at her as he rushed down the path between the neatly trimmed lawns. He made it the front door and pushed it open.
Almost immediately, a sword came at him, aimed for his neck.
Martial ducked underneath it and drew his own sword He blocked the second strike and twisting his sword as the blades connected, he gave a gentle tug and disarmed his opponent, sending her sword flying across the room, where it imbedded itself in the wooden cabinet.
His opponent was Cassie.
“Sorry… I’m so sorry,” she said, her eyes wide in horror as she realised who she had attacked. “I thought it was one of the town’s men. They tried to come in earlier. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologising,” Martial said, grinning. “At least, stop apologising for trying to kill me. You can apologise for the attempt. Terrible. You,” he pointed at her, “need a lot of training in how to use a sword.”
“Yes, Master,” Cassie nodded, before adding quietly, “I’m sorry.”
She was naked, save for the collar around her neck, and a black object protruding out of her bottom. Her large breasts rose and fell rapidly, her panic obvious as she took deep breathes. Martial sheathed his sword and placed both his hands on her shoulders.
“Calm down,” he told her. “You did good, okay.”
Cassie nodded quickly multiple times. Her breathing eased, and some colour returned to her face.
“Why are you naked?” Martial asked.
“This was how we were brought to the house. After killing Flittick, things got a little crazy. I forgot to put clothes one.” He cheeks began to redden. “Sorry…” she said once more.
“You need to stop saying sorry,” Martial said. “You definitely don’t need to apologise for being naked,” he told her, his lips spreading into a smile.
He took in her naked body. Her smooth skin, her perfectly round breasts with their little pink nipples, the curves of her hips. His hand moved down from her shoulders and brushed past her breasts. They rested on her waist.
He turned her around so that her bottom now faced him.
“What’s with the butt plug?” he asked. “Another thing you forgot about in the chaos?”
“Yes, Master,” Cassie said. “I’m so-” she stopped and bit her bottom lip.
“You like it stuck in there?”
She shook her head. “It’s big. I feel full.”
Martial reached down and lifted her left ass cheek with one hand and grabbed the plug with the other. He pulled and it slipped out with a plop. Her pink butthole gaped, before winking at him multiple times, it closed up.
“Is that better?”
“Yes, Master,” Cassie said, though she wiggled her bottom.
Taking her hand in his, Martial led her up the stairs. As the
y passed the doors on either side, heading towards the balcony at the end, Cassie pointed to a door to their left. “I’ve locked the hostages in that room.”
“Hostages?”
“The women in Flittick’s house. Had to take hostages once Malorie escaped.”
“Right,” Martial nodded, assuming Malorie was the naked woman he had seen standing by the front gate.
They walked through the glass doors with steamed window panels across white wooden strips and entered the balcony.
Michelle sat on a chair, a sword in hand. A naked girl stood at the edge of the balcony, beside the railing, her hands tied behind her back with rope that was also fastened around her ankles. Seeing him enter, she jumped to her feet.
“Master Martial,” she said, her body straightening, he half expected her to salute.
“At ease, soldier,” he grinned, and when Michelle exchanged a glance with Cassie, he gave a wave of his hand. “It’s something from before your time,” he muttered. “So, you girls want to catch me up on what the hell is going on here?”
“Well, sir, we killed Flittick,” Cassie said. “But Malorie escaped, raised the alarm and now there’s a crowd of humans at the gates. They tried to enter the property, so we brought her here as a threat,” she pointed at the naked girl standing by the edge of the balcony. “We kill her if they make a move.”
“Would you really kill her?” Martial asked.
The girls exchanged a glance, but no response came forth.
“I’m going to take that as a no,” Martial said. “And it had better be a no. We don’t kill innocents.”
He walked up to the girl and grabbing the rope, he tore it free from her hands and ankles. He turned her around to face him. She was a pretty girl with olive skin and large dark nipples. Her brown eyes that stared at him reminded him of an animal caught in headlights, afraid, confused.
“It’s going to be okay,” he told her. He wrapped his arms around her in a hug and held the hug until he felt her body sag onto his as she relaxed. “You’re free to go,” he told her.
The girl pointed towards the balcony doors. “I-I can leave?”
“Yes. Get out of here,” he slapped her bottom.
The girl hesitated only for a second before she bolted through the double doors.
“Time for us to go too,” Martial said. “Flittick is dead, right?”
“Yes, Master Martial,” Cassie said. “Do you want to see his head?”
“Fuck no,” Martial muttered. The guy was ugly enough when he was alive. Dead, if his face bloated even an inch, it would look more horrifying than anything he had seen even in fucking hell. “Also, stop calling me Master, or Sir, or anything like that. Just Martial is fine.
“Yes, Si-” both girls started and stopped at the same time.
“That’s great… you’ll get it eventually,” Martial muttered.
He wrapped an arm around each girl’s waist and left the balcony. Walking down the stairs, he did appreciate how naked both girls were. Legacies with their perfect bodies, it was a shame to have to cover them up.
But the girls did need clothes. Especially seeing as they would be walking out the front gates, through the hostile crowd.
On the ground floor, Martial paused to rip down the velvet curtains from the windows. The girls used the cloth to wrap some of it around their waists, covering their assess and cunts, and more to wrap around their luscious bouncing breasts.
“How do we look?” Michelle asked.
Martial wasn’t sure if they looked hotter naked, or with short strips of cloth wrapped around their modesty.
Either way, he wondered if the demon he killed north of Coldstream had been a blessing of some sort. It had been far too long since he’d had apprentices. Sleeping with women, moving from one to another, drinking copious amounts of wine, it had its advantages. But this was better. Having two women who would rip a man’s head off for him without question, two women who adored him, women who he was having a connection with. Martial missed that.
He sighed as it brought back memories of previous apprentices, the ones that he had loved, the ones that died in battle. He remembered back to when he was supposedly an apprentice, and the girl he’d met, the girl with long dark hair and blue eyes.
“Not good?” Cassie asked, her face falling.
“No, it’s great,” Martial said softly. “Let’s go.”
They exited through the front door and walked down the path between the fresh grass and the smell of nature. The crowds were still standing behind the metal bars, but now they majority stood a couple of meters away.
Standing directly in front of the gates were three women. Judging by their heights, all above six feet, Martial assumed the local Legacies had arrived. His suspicions were confirmed when one jumped over the iron gate and landed on her feet, one knee down, before rising up.
“That looked great,” Martial clapped his hands together. “The door was open, but that looked fantastic.”
“My name is Martha. I’m a third generation Legacy. This town is mine. Those women have committed a crime. Hand them over to me.”
“Wow… very formal. Okay,” he nodded. “Let’s do this. I am Martial the Great, Killer of the Demons of Wisconsiquences, Murderer of the Great Bane, Victor of the Battle of Bardiculous. Shall I continue?”
Martha’s brows furrowed. “What generation Legacy are you?” she asked as her hand now rested on the sword at her waist.
“You don’t want to do this,” Martial said. “Flittick wasn’t a good man. Half the girls in his brothel were forced to be there. All of them were treated horribly and like slaves. He deserved to die. If this is your town, it’s your responsibility to keep the townsfolk safe. I did you a favour getting rid of him,” his tone hardened. “Now you come here for justice?”
Martha moved towards him, taking slow steps, her hand moved away from her waist, a sign that she wanted to talk, a private conversation.
“Flittick was a powerful man,” she said. “He controls a militia, controls the valley from which the metal is mined. This town survives on him. I am a Legacy, but I have two apprentices. I can’t just take him on.”
“Then you can thank my girls for doing it. Now you can run that militia, if you’re up for the task?”
Martha shook her head. “You don’t understand. Perry is the head of the militia. He’s demanding the girls are handed over to him. If he doesn’t get what he wants, his men will hurt a lot of innocent people. You don’t know him. He plays dirty. If he even gets a whiff that you killed Flittick because you cared about the girls in the brothel, he will march over there with his men and kill all of them.”
Martial didn’t know Perry well, but he knew men like him. Had met plenty in his long time on this earth. His brief conversation with Perry outside the gates was enough for him to know that the man was not a brave one.
Perry had sensibly backed away as soon as he knew Martial was a Legacy.
Legacies were always to be wary off. You never knew what you were dealing with, if it was a first generation Legacy with hundreds of apprentices and multiple towns under their control, or a sixth, seventh generation Legacy with no apprentices, but the desire to prove themselves, the need to get into fights and establish a name.
Both were dangerous.
The type of Legacy that Perry didn’t fear was Martha.
Third generation Legacy, but only two apprentices. She should have had much more. It reflected her cautious approach, her unwillingness to take any risks, to not get up in people’s faces. Perry had taken advantage of that to keep her under control.
“I’ll deal with Perry,” Martial said.
“I can’t let you do that,” Martha said. “I can’t put people’s lives at risk because of your recklessness. I don’t know you well, but the little I know about you shows you’re a hothead. You’re from out of town. You appear with two novice apprentices, rumble on about a bunch of made up titles, kill Flittick in his own house? No worries about the co
nsequences?”
I can’t let you do that; Martha had said. “What are you going to do to stop me?”
“You don’t want to go down that route,” Martha said. “I wasn’t lying. I really am a third generation Legacy.”
Martial grinned as he stepped back. He withdrew his sword and pointed it at Martha. “It’s not personal,” he told her.
Martha’s lips tightened as she pulled out her own sword. It was a nice sword too, worthy of a third generation Legacy. The blade was made of a silvery material and slightly curved. The handle was black, the guard green, a single red jewel in the centre.
Martha came at him. As she tried to stab him in the chest with her first move, Martial slapped it aside with his sword, but the speed caught him by surprise, and as he moved back, his feet almost tripped over each.
It had been awhile since he last duelled a Legacy, and even longer since that Legacy had been as high as third generation. As the battle continued, Martial began to regret downing the mug of beer for breakfast.
He parried her blows, moving backwards as they rained down on him at incredible speed and pace. As she swung sideways, he ducked underneath and rolled on the ground coming up behind her.
Martial turned with the intention of striking her exposed back.
Except, it wasn’t her back that he was facing.
Martha had turned already. She stood facing him, her lips pressed together tightly, she slammed the hilt of her sword into his face.
It hit Martial across the jawline and knocked him onto the ground. Martha brought her sword down, trying to cut him in half. Martial rolled away in time and jumped to his feet. He felt his lips. There was blood there.
For a girl too afraid to confront a human militia, Martha was surprisingly skilful and ready to kill. Her sword had created a lined dent in the concrete where he had formerly been. She would have killed him had he not moved out of the way.
“Leave the girls and go,” Martha warned him. “Next time, I won’t hold back.”
“Where exactly did you hold back?” Martial muttered.
Legacies Page 10
