Flight of The Harpy's Heart

Chapter xx: God's Chosen People

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By the early evening hours, Aden, Oliver, and Ser Percival made their solemn return to the village, bearing the fallen form of Victor draped respectfully over their shoulders. They had not lingered at the beleaguered seaport, knowing the urgency of relaying the dire situation to Captain Willem.

The weary trio arrived as the last slanted rays of dusk painted the hushed streets in a warm, golden glow. The villagers had just concluded their daily labors and routines when the grim procession approached. A hush fell over the gathered townsfolk as they took in the bloodied and battered state of the men and the unmistakable shape of a shrouded body being transported with heavy reverence.

Captain Willem was swiftly summoned, his stern features growing graver with each relayed detail of the seaport's harrowing struggle against the harpy onslaught. Once apprised, he dismissed them with a curt nod. "Great job, fellows. Now get some rest. I'll have the villagers dig a grave and prepare a simple funeral for Victor. We'll also send reinforcements to aid with securing the fish farm as soon as we can."

Though intellectually aware of the necessity, Aden couldn't help but feel a sharp pang of regret at the loss of their beef jerky supplies. Yet even as that Door closed, another opened - the overlooked fish farm provided an alternative source of provisions.

As the old adage goes, "When the bear takes your honeycomb, the salmon leap into your nets."

Father Edgar presided over the small, somber ceremony laying Victor to rest amid the cemetery's other unfortunate souls claimed by the harpy attacks. The actor's simple grave joined the steadily growing ranks, a chilling reminder of the escalating toll.

Throughout it all, Aden's gaze continually strayed to Indry and Laura, seeing the warring emotions of worry and relief playing across their faces at his safe return. He knew the desperate yearning in their hearts to breach propriety and enfold him in a fierce embrace. But they restrained themselves, ever mindful of keeping their relationship obscured from judgemental eyes.

Mere glances and fleeting smiles would have to convey the depths of their feelings for now.

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As soon as the solemn funeral rites concluded, Aden wasted no time in excusing himself. His battle-honed instincts, sharpened to a razored edge by the harrowing seaport assault, had stoked an animalistic need burning white-hot within his loins. Indry awaited him in the stables, her own desire simmering after days of forced separation.

No words were exchanged, nor were they needed. Aden didn't even pause for the slightest foreplay - he seized Indry with urgent intensity, craving the intimate release only she could provide. Beneath the musty aroma of hay and horses, their hushed cries and the lewd rhythmic creaking of the hayloft merged into a salacious symphony as they coupled with frenzied passion.

It was a brief but intensely cathartic joining, allowing Aden to temporarily slake the pent-up lust and aggression thrumming through his veins. Sweat-slicked and deliciously sated, at least for the moment, he extracted himself from Indry's tender embrace and straightened his rumpled clothes.

Back in the courthouse, the remainder of their party had returned bearing their modest prize - four hefty barrels brimming with freshly caught fish from the docks. While not an inexhaustible supply, it would suffice to feed the gathered townsfolk for a couple of days at least.

Scanning the milling crowd, one figure in particular caught Aden's eye, igniting an instant flare of fury.

"What is that h'mar doing here?" he snarled, recognizing the battered face of Ralph, the weaselly coward who had abandoned Oliver to the harpies in a cowardly bid to save his own skin.