Beyond the Pale

A Dinner for Two

A delightfully piquant salty aftertaste in his mouth, Castorius had even more anticipation for what was to come next.

After they had spent the better part of an hour making love—for that it was what he chose to call it, even if that was stretching it in terms of accuracy of description pertaining to the factual content of the transaction—there was no more prolonging the unavoidable. Castorius' stomach demanded all the equivalent gratification and nurture as had just befallen his nether colleague. And it, alongside with his crony Palate, was about to receive an indulgence nearly worth the past days of drudgery and squalor.

In other words, it was time for some food.

One nice feature of Alva—in addition to her shapely breasts and her fully-curved posterior—was that for a woman she had a very good grasp on preparing a tasty meal. She also shared Castorius' enthusiasm for eating well, and it fortunately looked as if the fuel she ingested went straight into those full, pleasing to both eye and touch proportions of her form.

She laid the trencher on the table, food steaming and emitting a vibrant aroma that—now that his other urges had been duly sated—set Castorius' whole being in a state of anticipation.

The main course of today was boar, chopped into pieces sized about half a fist, roasted while wrapped in thin slices of bacon—a method called barding. The idea of the bacon was to give the naturally dry meat the juiciness it begged for.

The food was excellent, consistency of the meat just perfect, and the two distinct aromas of pork played together in a smooth harmony—the boar taming the overtly greasy nature of the bacon, and the bacon itself lending the dry boar some of its succulence.

The wine that went with it, however, left something to hope for. It was alright, but just that. Unimaginative, without dimension or variety. It had a single flavor at the first mouthful, and it never went anywhere. Bulk, in a word.

Castorius found himself pining for the wine made in the arid and temperate climate of Colovia in the south of Cyrodiil. Yes, that would have been just perfect for boar.

Alva smiled at Castorius, returning him to here and now. "You didn't tell me you were in the military," she cooed, obviously not entirely displeased by this revelation.

"I didn't?" Castorius could have sworn he had. But then he scarcely had any memory of what lies he'd fed this particular woman.

"Nuh-uh," Alva reprimanded, a sly smile on her, "you told me you worked as a fisher."

"Ah." So that story-line. Castorius only employed it very occasionally, as it hardly impressed most women. "Well, I do fish . . . " He'd caught a small roach on line and sinker once. "At times."

Alva slanted a look under her sharply drawn dark brows, as to say, "come on, now."

"Tell you the truth," Castorius said. More like anything but. "I'm not at liberty to reveal details." He tapped the side of his nose. "Top secret Imperial business." He hoped that in the likely case of her not buying it, the whole thing might pass for a jest.

But Alva just pursed her lips, impressed, and evidently quite excited as well. "Well, I'd never have guessed." She took another bite of her food, but kept her eyes on Castorius. He thought she looked at him sort of funny now, but did his best not to make anything of it. Had he spoken in haste?

After some minutes of silence, save for the two chewing mouths and the hearth crackling in the background, Alva took a sip of her wine, then set the goblet down. She gave him a wide smile, her teeth stained purple, and said, "I like the uniform, though. Makes you look very manly." She reached a hand over the table, placing it atop Castorius'. "And very handsome. Almost regally so."