Dennis the Conqueror: A Harem Fantasy (Sword and Sorority Book 1)

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Dennis the Conqueror: A Harem Fantasy (Sword and Sorority Book 1) Page 5

by Scot C Morgan


  It's just common sense survival.

  I was rationalizing to make myself feel better. I felt a little ashamed at how much I did not want to power up and take on the guy who killed my predecessor. Sure, I took care of the thugs in the forest—with Alara's help—but something told me the Dark One might be considerably more trouble.

  "We'll meet with the smithy and tell him what you need," Alara said. "Like I said, we're friends. He wouldn't charge me for it."

  We walked down into the town, passing a few people who clearly were avoiding us before Alara apparently saw a familiar face. She waved at the woman and a moment later the two women were talking. Turned out they weren't close, merely acquainted. They had a mutual friend, the blacksmith.

  I watched Alara's expression go from pleasant—at greeting the woman—to shocked and defeated, as the woman told Alara the blacksmith had closed up shop and left town a month ago, saying he had to go help his cousin's family. Someone had died. It was his cousin. He had gone to be with his cousin's wife and two young children.

  Someone had taken over the blacksmith's place and converted it into a home. The woman made it clear they wouldn't be keen on unexpected visitors.

  I thought Alara might ask the woman if we could stay with her, but the lady took that option off the table before the request was even made. "My husband wouldn't approve," she said. "I'm sorry. We don't really have any space, anyway. But there's the inn."

  "Yes," Alara said. "I understand. We'll head there."

  The woman left with a wave.

  So, picking up a sword and heading straight back to the shag shack definitely wasn't happening. I had still been holding onto the possibility we might do our business and get back right away. Clearly this turn of events was going to complicate matters.

  Go with the flow, Dennis. You're not on a schedule anymore.

  I stepped over a loose pile of rocks as we continued walking, evidently now headed toward the inn.

  "We'll buy a weapon from someone tomorrow," Alara said. "Surely someone in town has something they're willing to part with."

  I reached back to pull the dagger from the back of my boxers—I was going to proclaim it might be good enough—but the dagger was gone!

  "Oh, shit! I must have dropped it." I glanced back, but the road behind us was dark, and we had been walking for a while. I couldn't see any sign of the dagger."

  Both women looked at me with incredulity.

  I thought about suggesting we go back and look for it, but Alara and Nithia looked cold and not terribly pleased at what I'd just told them.

  "I'll come up with the coin to buy a weapon," Alara said. She looked really upset, but it looked like it was more than my misplacing the dagger. Must be her blacksmith friend leaving.

  I left a few moments of silence, but finally I had to ask, "How do you plan to do that?"

  "You ought to know," Nithia said from behind me.

  I looked back at her. "What do you mean?"

  Nithia raised her eyebrows and tilted her head from side to side in an exaggerated fashion as she answered. "Oh, I'm sure you have no idea."

  "Nithia!" Alara's tone was stern but not unkind. "I know you don't approve, but the priestess must do whatever is necessary for the Guardian." Alara looked at the ground for a moment. "I didn't think I'd ever have to do such a thing, but…"

  I saw Nithia using her eyes to direct my attention to Alara's body. She glanced at her ass, then looked at me until I figured it out.

  "Wait," I said, shifting my glance between Nithia and Alara. "You mean you're going to-"

  "Yes," Alara interrupted. "Anyone in the village will pay a handsome sum to lie with me. It's not often they have a chance to have such a close connection with the gods."

  "Whoa." She's a little full of herself. I mean, yeah, it was amazing, but…

  I must've looked shocked, judging by the way both of the women were now looking at me. I was certainly surprised. I had no idea the high priestess was the town whore.

  Then I realized just how extreme my expression must have been. Alara's brow wrinkled and she scrunched up her nose. I saw her lower lip faintly quiver, and maybe it was the light of the setting sun playing tricks, but I'm almost sure she had tears beginning to pool in her beautiful green eyes.

  I didn't call her that out loud, did I?

  I was sure I hadn't, but for some reason she was losing it. As is usually the case when some girl I know is upset, I really didn't know why exactly, but I knew it was entirely plausible that it was somehow my fault. So, I tried to make her feel better.

  "Are you okay?" I asked. It wasn't knight-on-a-white-stallion stuff, but it was all I had at the moment.

  She stopped walking and just stared at me, looking strong, fierce. I let the silent moment take its course, then I noticed the first crack as her lip quivered again. She held on for a second or two, then the dam broke. She burst into tears, hunching over as her body rhythmically shook with her sobs.

  Stop looking at her boobs, jackass.

  I didn't know what I was supposed to do. Facing the thugs in the forest was less unnerving.

  Nithia stepped in front of me and reached out to Alara. She put her hand on Alara's shoulder. "You don't have to, you know."

  Alara couldn't respond. She was crying too hard to speak. Nithia looked at me with wide eyes. She motioned with her head and a shift in her eyes from me to Alara.

  What am I supposed to do?

  After another glare from Nithia, who was still rubbing Alara's shoulder, I spoke up. "I'll get the money, the coin. You don't need to do anything."

  I waited a few seconds to see if I had helped at all. Her crying quieted some. She wiped her eyes, still looking down.

  "I had no idea Gareth had left," she said. I knew she was talking about the blacksmith.

  Seeing her upset, I wanted to fix the situation—to ease her mind.

  Taking stock of myself, I wondered how I was going to earn money in a town I didn't know, in a world I didn't know, with nothing to my name except the pair of boxers hiding my junk. Then, seeing my arms and chest, I noted how damn big I'd gotten. I've gotta be the strongest man anyone here has seen. Maybe I couldn't fight, I thought, but… I clenched my fist and flexed my arm. I gotta be able to do something with all this.

  This time my voice resounded with confidence. "I'll take care of it."

  Alara must have believed me, or at least believed I meant what I said. She stopped crying and wiped her eyes and cheeks clear of her tears. Then she raised her head and looked at me, as if she was choosing to believe in me.

  "No woman of mine has to sell out her body to get by, especially not on my account." Just saying it made me feel more manly.

  Alara smiled. A small tear broke loose from the corner of her eye, but I could tell it wasn't a new one. She wasn't crying now. I'd done it. Somehow, I'd done it.

  She gave Nithia a small thankful nod and moved closer to me. Feeling the moment, I extended my arm to envelop her with it as she pressed in against me.

  The sun had set behind the mountains. Only a reddish glow remained of the day. The light from a few small fire pits ahead lit the road just enough for us to make our way. What little warmth the valley had soaked up during the day was quickly rising, leaving a growing cold.

  I wrapped my other arm around Nithia, who had come in to join our embrace. "Why don't we find someplace warm? Maybe get something to eat."

  "Sounds good," Nithia said, looking up at me.

  "Yes," Alara agreed. "There's still the problem of paying, though."

  Well, crap.

  "Yeah," I said. "Let's just get in somewhere, out of the cold. Maybe we can figure something out then."

  I could feel the two of them starting to shiver, and I was too. I wanted to ask them both why they didn't wear more clothes if it was going to get this cold, but I knew it wasn't the time. Besides, I didn't want them to think I disapproved of their wardrobe choices. After all, it had been one of the first things I noticed, an
d was what I would've picked out for them to wear if they'd asked.

  A few townspeople strolled past us, but they were on the other side of the road and they gave us little attention—only a quick glance from the cover of their hooded cloaks. Seeing them dressed warmly only increased the chill I was feeling.

  They've got the right clothes on. Hello, everybody. My name's Dennis. Ignore my shrinking manhood. I had no idea I was going to be trekking in the cold in my underwear today.

  I quickly made a plan to remedy the situation as soon as possible. "Since we're already going to be scrambling to pay for a room, we may have to share a bed." I dropped the line without looking at Alara or Nithia. I didn't know how my pragmatism would go over with them, and I figured nonchalant was a safe way to play it.

  "Mm," Alara said.

  Nithia quickly responded. "That makes sense."

  I could already feel the warmth building.

  Without another word, we walked to the inn. Alara knew the way. When I saw what was painted on the wooden sign hanging over the door I had a feeling the warm comfort of sharing a bed with Alara—and, hot damn, Nithia too—was not a foregone conclusion.

  Chapter 6

  "You've been here before, right?" I asked Alara as I looked at the warning hanging over the entrance—Pay For Your Bill, Or Pay With Your Life.

  Alara took note of the sign also. "Once." The concern on her face did little to still whatever was stirring in my stomach. "It was quite a long time ago, though."

  "Wait." It dawned on me that not only had I just read this sign, this sign on another planet, written in another language, but that I've had no trouble speaking or understanding the language Alara and Nithia spoke. The thought never crossed my mind, in fact. What can I say, the two women had been more than distracting since I got to this world.

  "What?" Nithia asked.

  "How is it I can read this?" I stared at the two of them. "And speak your language?"

  I could tell by their confused expressions they didn't realize I hadn't known their language before. "Must be part of your priestess magic," I said, unintentionally nodding down toward Alara's loins.

  I winced at realizing what I'd done, expecting her to snap something back at me or tear up again, but she didn't. Instead, she raised one eyebrow and pulled one corner of her mouth into a grin.

  "I'd like to take credit," she said before shrugging.

  "Well," I glanced only halfway down this time. "It's the only explanation I can think of."

  "All creatures capable of speech on Galderia can understand each other," she said. "Most can read, at least a little. If you say your world has another way of speaking, I can only believe you, but this is news to me."

  Nithia bumped me gently with her hip. "I'm cold."

  I looked down at her—her head came to the bottom of my neck. For some reason, I hadn't noticed how striking her eyes were before, or that they were even blue. But my heart—or something—throbbed as I looked at them now. She nodded toward the door to the inn.

  I realized my curiosity about the language question wasn't the most pressing thing.

  "Right," I said. I'm a little chilly too. Let's see if we can work something out with the innkeeper."

  Alara and Nithia quickly glanced at me with a mild expression of alarm. Evidently my eyes had wandered across their breasts when I spoke, giving them the wrong idea about what I meant.

  "Not that," I said. "I told you—both of you—no woman of mine has to sell herself to get by."

  They both looked relieved… and obviously affectionate toward me—Nithia especially, which, I had to admit, was turning me on something fierce. And I got that look from both of them—the I-want-you-now look.

  Yeah. We're getting that damn bed.

  I blame what I'm sure was an overzealous testosterone jump for what happened next. Actually, in retrospect, I think I was still learning to get a handle on the raw strength and energy, and newfound brazenness, coursing through me—whatever it was Alara had stirred up in me.

  I pulled open the door and stepped in first, Alara and Nithia right behind me. I would've been a gentleman and held the door, but I figured on a tough world like this a man ought to enter a room with a presence—to let everyone know he wasn't to be taken lightly—and I was concerned about how things would play out in the inn, given the tone of their sign. I decided to take charge of the situation—whatever that meant. Somehow that thought, loosely defined, materialized into me not only walking through the door first, but doing what I did next—which in retrospect was a mistake.

  I didn't actually step into the room. I swaggered. Maybe it was the fact that two libido-pumping Hyperborean bikini models had just flashed me with fuck-me eyes. Alara I expected, but Nithia apparently had finally come to terms with what she actually wanted. Who was I to disappoint her?

  After a few steps into the room, I took a spot near the first table full of locals. I somehow managed to simultaneously plant one foot on the wood floor hard enough to turn a few heads while placing the other one in my mouth, saying, "Which one of you fellas am I going to have to knock out to earn some coin for a room?"

  Yeah. I did. Standing in the middle of the room in my blue and white boxer shorts, muscled up, with no clue what I was getting myself into, I blurted that out. I thought it would come across strong, but a little funny—an ice-breaker. Would've worked at a college party. Maybe. Not that I'd ever been to one.

  As soon as the words left my mouth I wanted to take them back, but it was too late.

  "Are you crazy?" Alara said from behind me.

  It could have been any one of the fifteen people in the room who answered my now deeply regretted question, but it was one particular man who stood up. Conveniently, he had been seated at the very table I stood in front of when I let my stupid show. If I had it to do over, I'd have picked anyone else in the room—by a long shot.

  When the man stood, everyone at his table and the three nearest ones cleared the area. The sudden jumbling of chairs and the accompanying noise—chairs scooting, people mumbling nervously, and a ceramic mug breaking as it hit the floor—made the situation feel comical, for a moment. When I turned my attention away from the clammer in the room and to the man I'd unwisely invited to fight, I mentally drew a tally mark in the column 'most stupid things I've ever done'.

  Saying he was big would be like saying looking at a naked woman is mildly enjoyable. Since I had muscled up, and after taking out the guys in the forest, I was starting to feel pretty much like a badass—except when Nithia brought up how I was going to get murdered by the Dark One at some point. But now, probably getting a crick in my neck from looking up at the pissed off guy in front of me, I felt like plain old Dennis. The man not only had arms at least as big as mine, but also had a scar from his forehead down to the side of his jaw. It was a big-ass scar, and it ran over his eye! Well, it skipped his eyeball, but…

  Fuck.

  His clothes didn't look like those of a fighter. He had brown pants, a thick leather belt, and a faded blue shirt—sleeves rolled up. Okay, maybe they did. Regardless, he was powerfully built. His dark skin had veins that worked overtime to move blood to his well-developed muscles.

  He looked down at me and exhaled heavily, giving a little movement to his thick black mustache and beard. I could feel the mist from his breath. No. Not mist. It was full-on wet. He basically cleared his nostrils on me. The son of a bitch did it on purpose, I could tell.

  Poker face. Poker face, Dennis. Let it go.

  I held out for three, maybe four seconds. Five tops. The man crossed his arms and continued to stare at me. I saw his head nod slightly.

  Nope. Even knowing I'd regret it, I couldn't let it slide.

  "You know," I said, pausing after to wipe my face clean with a single move of my forearm, "I was kidding around."

  I glanced around the room and saw everyone staring at the two of us. Some of them were chuckling, not too under their breath. A few were pointing. The people were simple townsf
olk, for the most part. They probably came here every night—drinking, laughing, telling stories, having a good time. But in that moment, when I looked at them, I saw frat boys and sorority girls. It was all too familiar. And once again, I was the odd man out, standing at the edge of the party, looking in. I had just walked for four hours, in the cold, poking my feet on rocks, getting attacked by thugs, having no idea when some guy named the Dark One was going to show up and kill me. And now, this guy in front of me was going to blow his nose on my face?

  I had come inside the inn feeling better about my situation—thanks to Alara and Nithia—but for some reason this gorilla of a man in front of me opened the floodgates on all the frustration I'd been shoving down inside me for… well, since my parents died, actually. Then two years of busting my ass to get through college… and no girlfriend to make things easier. And now, with two of the most beautiful women in Galderia waiting to jump my bones, I had this guy standing in my way.

  "I was kidding," I repeated, "but for some reason you've made me lose my sense of humor."

  I should've stopped. I might have, in spite of all that welled up inside me. After all, I was a decent guy. I had never been a bully, or even an asshole to anybody. Wasn't my style. But then he sealed the deal.

  "Why don't you run your ass out of here while you can," the man said. "Leave your women. I'll make sure they know what a real man is." He looked around my shoulder toward Alara and Nithia, who were still behind me. I could feel a hand from each of them on me.

  The tables in the room were well-made round tables, possibly oak. I couldn't really identify woods on sight. But someone had done a good job making them. That I could see. And the walls—plaster over the stone, a few spots had worn thin and the stone was showing—the walls were nicely decorated. The innkeeper, or his wife, or whoever was the artsy one, had hung a bunch of pretty pictures around the room. They were paintings or drawings of some sort. I'm not entirely sure. I didn't get a good look at them. I just remember there being a bunch of them on the walls. And there were two great chandeliers. They were iron. Well, the main frame parts of them were iron, but they had all these glass jars with candles in them. The place looked really great.

 

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