Pre-dawn had begun to show itself through the tiny barn window Crispin had found himself sitting near, as he stared out to watch it rise. The reason for being within this barn to begin with lay in a heap on the straw not four feet from him, he rather ample breasts bare to the world, her skirts shoved up to reveal long milk white legs. He found those rather charming, though he remembered not her name. A new hand that had joined the manor which his mother ran. To keep her from being relieved, as his mother was very particuler about his future, and trysts in general, he had taken them both to a far out of the way barn. As for him, he prefered not to be smacked upside the head with his mothers own candle stick. One which held a story, it seems this is the very candle stick she had used to brain the manors lord when he finally passed out from exhaustion while he was a babe. Admittedly he had no idea if this was true or not, but the head of the house hold always seemed to avoid his mother when she got a sly glint in her eyes. He didn't blame him.
He enjoyed watching the sun rise after a night like this, having exhausted his partner so. It made him smile, the beauty as this manor, his home came alive with the day. And then, he heard it. The very clear commadning yell of his mother ringing across the manors holdings. The smile he had instantly faded as he all but jumped to get moving, shaking the dozing hand awake and informing her in a voice cracking from puberty to get up and moving. The hand for her part jumped just as fast to cover herself and rush about her duties in the barn, while the young Crispin ran out, and took the long way through the cosp of trees just within the strone fence line to avoid his mothers eagle eyes. He grimaced at that, he disliked thinking it but he wished her eyes had gone as she aged like others. Instead they got sharper, as had her hearing. He swore she could hear his thoughts, as well as see out the back of her head. He got away with nothing as a child, and less so now.
I'll never know why I bother trying to hide this, was the instant thought that went through Crispins head as he faced his mothers stony gaze. She was, for lack of a better term, utterly livid with him. She was all of four feet and three inches roughly, and still made him, a towering five feet at fourteen, feel small and guilty. The power of his mother, or all mothers, he assumed. He'd seen if often around the manor, and in the village on the days he was allowed to visit. And of course, no sooner had he thought anything other than the scoulding out came her hand and whacked him upside the head. "Ouch! Mother! what did I do to earn that?" All his mother did was glare at him, take a deep breath and spoke in a tone that could freeze water. "You, young man, let your mind wonder while I spoke to you, and I KNOW you have been fooling around with one of the hands again. How many times do I have to tell you? You are a gentleman, you do not engage in trysts with farm hands, or the maids within this manor! I know not what I will ever do with you, god forbid a child comes of this!" He knew this, he also hated that he had angered, and upset her, but he was a young man coming into age, he thought of almost nothing but girls. Wincing lightly, he hung his head, speaking softly. "I'm sorry, Mother."
Shaking her head as Crispin walked away looking like a whipped dog, which he should, Emilly sighed again, placing her hand against her head. What was she to do with the boy? He was so cute, like a little duck when he was younger. Now he's coming of age, and becoming progressively larger of a hassle to raise. She was at a loss with what to do. Her only saving grace was her snitches around the manor told her exactly whom it was he had been with. Upon which she would force them to swallow a simple potion that prevented children from coming from such a one night tryst. After an hour of listening to the most notable snitches, she went to hunt down the barn hand. What she saw, displeased her greatly. A young lady, roughly the same age of her boy with a very ample pair of breasts, long legs, and a tight fitting pair of linens no girl should be wearing. Frowning, she walked toward the girl, potion in hand. The girl for her part, having heard her brisk step over the sun dried grass started when she realized who it was, but did not try to run. Smart, she would have lost her job. She stood her ground, and waited. "You know why I'm here girl?" She nodded once, slowly, and took the potion with a grimance. "Head maid...must I?" she asked hesitantly. For my part I must have gained the image of a demon for the way she started upon looking up at my face. "Yes, you must. I will not have a basterd running around to ruin my boys name. Drink it, immidiatly or I will force you to, and be rid of you from this estate." the girl did so, at which point I went on with my day. First stop, to have a word with Lord Francis.
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The Trials of Blood: Prologue
FantasyAs with all things, there is an end. Just as there is a beginning. It amuses me to realize that my story was never told from beginning to end. That save for those I will die to save, my story will be left untold. Even as the irony of what my life ha...