The Perfect Kingdom

Chapter 1

Night has truly fallen. Darkness consumed all but the fire's warm glow. Silence hushed everything but the blades of grass rustling in the wind and the voices of evil men.

"Good haul today. These bitches will be worth a month's drink."

"More than that. They're all virgins. Fresh meat."

"And how would you know that?"

"I checked."

"Sure, you checked, you horny scum. Don't be sticking your dirty fingers where they don't belong and ruining the product before we sell them."

The two men laughed as they sat around a roaring fire. A distance away from them was a cage occupied by five young ladies. The maidens huddled together for warmth. They tightly gripped their tattered clothing as if their lives depended on them and their eyes stared unwaveringly at the fire. They were so cold, simply looking at the fire helped them feel warmer. The campsite was situated in an open area in the middle of a dense forest. No one was going to coincidentally walk by. No one was going to save them.

"The auction is in three days. We'll arrive at Rorikstead tomorrow. We can spend two nights there before we move towards Whiterun."

"Two nights? How can you expect me to control myself for two nights in their presence?"

He turned around and pointed towards the maidens, who bunched together even closer at the sight of his sly smile. He licked his lips eagerly and flashed them a wave.

"Remember the payment. You can have any woman you like after we're done selling them."

The two men continued drinking and resting. They had decided to wait until daybreak to resume their progress towards an actual town with rooms for rent to spend the next two days in comfort. In their relaxed state, they didn't notice a figure running away from them between the trees towards higher ground.

"What do you see?" his companions asked when he returned. They huddled together and descended on one knee to discuss their plan of attack.

"Two men by the fire; they look like the ones in charge. Three sentries are posted around the perimeter of the camp with three in reserve sleeping behind the pair. Those six are probably hired mercenaries. All of them, slavers and mercenaries, carry swords," he reported.

He lowered his bow on the ground and drew a rough sketch in the dirt to help his friends visualise the area of operations, aided by the moonlight illuminating the clear skies above them.

"Eight of them against four of us? Terrible odds – for them," one of them laughed.

He adjusted his sword as the scabbard had drove into the ground when he kneeled. His armoured vest was made from hardened black leather, allowing him to seemingly dissolve into the dark. Dark grey steel rivets fastened the leather pieces together, including two steel-reinforced pauldrons. His arms were bare except for bracers on each wrist, displaying his toned arms and battle scars as he moved. His trousers were made from thick black cloth, with leather pads on the knees and hips. Tall leather boots completed his appearance.

"Getting cocky, aren't you? Why don't you take them on yourself?" another one challenged.

This voice was female, which was a surprise due to the two hatchets hanging off her belt. Her armour matched the swordsman.

"As if you don't want some action for yourself," the swordsman fired back.

"Let's not fight amongst ourselves when we have real enemies instead," the last one interrupted.