<div class="floatright">(http://digital-art-gallery.com/oid/112/640x853_19389_Legend_Of_The_Cryptids_2d_illustration_fantasy_warrior_steampunk_picture_image_digital_art.jpg)</div>The journey back had been long and arduous, but Alain had been keeping the King company the whole time. The king had been off conquering the land of Albioth to the east, and had brought on a small regiment of mercenaries to be his personal bodyguards. It had mostly gone well up until about a week ago, when they'd been ambushed. Alain had gotten the king away, and once they were away, the scroll that Alain had grabbed off one of the men he'd slain defending the king had given the king all he needed to win the war. And the entire trip back from Albioth to Scarstoe, the king had been going on and on about how he was going to reward Alain for winning the war for him single handedly. Alain wasn't sure if it was idle boast, honest praise or some bizarre combination of the two, but the King had not let him leave his side since that decisive victory last week. Alain had even had to sit with the King while he wrote a number of messages on small scrolls to be sent via raven back to the kingdom back home, so they would know the campaign was won.<br/><br/>He sighed, shifting his tunic around his muscular form impatiently. For the last week, they'd been riding back in a wagon, and hadn't stopped anywhere. It had driven Alain slightly mad. They hadn't even stopped to wash their clothes, and so Alain's tunic had flecks of dried blood still on it. He couldn't wait to wash it clean. He was a muscular fellow, but lean and agile. He'd never wanted to be big and stupid - just fast and dangerous, with sapphire cerrulean eyes that the King had described as oceans of intimidation. More than once, he'd thought about simply slipping out of the wagon in the middle of the night and heading out, but the king had promised a reward, and Alain was strapped for cash at the moment. Not like he had anywhere to run to, either, a vagabond mercenary without a home to call his own.<br/><br/>Alain had been a warrior for as long as he could remember, probably some twenty years now, having started as a spry lad of twelve but he'd been a mercenary for most of that. He'd grown up in Cyprill, the kingdom to the north of Scarstoe, and had been in their army for about a year before he'd left and struck out on his own when the rest of his unit had been slain because they'd been too stupid to see the need for retreat. That was the last time he'd joined an army. They didn't have any common sense, and Alain had plenty. He'd left Cyprill, and headed south to Scarstoe, where he'd gotten a bit of flack from people for his appearance. He was darker skinned that most of the people of Scartoe - not ebony like the Ritellans to the far south, but a dusky, sandy color. He'd been able to pass off as a particularly tan Scartoan from time to time, but most people could recognize him as Cyprillian from the onset, and some people had some interesting ideas about the Cyprillians. That they were all sorcerors and wizards and demonic barbarians. Alain had never seen a demon in his entire life, and he knew exactly two spells - one to generate a tiny amount of flame, to light a candle or torch, and one help him locate water. Not that most people believed him, of course.<br/><br/>"Alain, dear boy, come here!" the king called, and Alain sighed a little and headed towards the front of the wagon.<br/>"My lord?" Alain said.<br/>"Take a look, Alain. This... is your fiefdom." Alain arched a thin dark eyebrow.<br/>"My lord?" he asked, questioningly. "I don't understand."<br/>The king chuckled. "It's all be arranged. No longer are you Alain Delmont the brigand, but you are now Lord Alain Delmont, liege of the fiefdom of Barrant, which includes three major cities and... what was it, Vizier?" he said as he tapped the old man next to them, his oldest advisor.<br/>The Vizier, jostled awake, said, "A dozen or so minor cities and a hundred or so farms. Several hundred miles of land, all said and done. And the castle, of course."<br/>The king laughed, slapping the Vizier on the back, who let out a surpised OOPH of air. "The castle! Yes, we're approaching it now! It's your castle, my boy. These are your people, your subjects!"<br/>Alain frowned for only a second. "M'lord, I'm grateful, but what do I know about ruling a fiefdom?"<br/>"About as much as I did about ruling a country when I started, I imagine!" the king said with a laugh. "Don't worry, you'll get it all worked out. Most of the actual work is handled by advisors who have been with the fiefdom since before either of us were born."<br/>"Then what happened to the previous lord?"<br/>"Died in the campaign! So you'll still have all his house servants to manage the castle, and the advisors to handle much of the day to day. Oh you'll have to make rulings about crop lines, market prices, disputes and the such, but it really isn't that complicated. You'll do fine!"<br/>"May I speak freely, my king?"<br/>"Absolutely Alain! You're a lord now!"<br/>Alain sighed. "All I really want is a chance to get some sleep, get a good meal, some fine drink and get a pretty girl to fuck until I pass out. And now I'm a Lord? Sounds like work."<br/>The king snickered. "Well, let's just say I've thrown in a little surprise, which is why we've steered clear of the taverns and brothels on the way back."<br/>"Dare I ask?"<br/>"When a new lord assumes the fiefdom, he needs to build his harem, and so each township is required to send a girl as tribute."<br/>"I... I have a harem now?"<br/>"Well, you will! They should all be at the castle waiting for you, or arriving shortly. And I suspect your harem will grow, as the smaller towns and villages want to gain favor. Look at it as an adventure! Anyhow, you're here now, and all the wealth in the castle belongs to you. Gold, silver, jewels... everything! The Vizier will send word of any responsibilities you have to me later, but for now, enjoy your reward! There's your horse! Go see your new home!"<br/>"Thank you, my king."<br/>"Don't thank me until you see what kind of pussy the townships have sent," he said with a laugh. "If they don't send quality snatch, well, you punish those peasants like they deserve. I doubt they will, though. Everyone wants to make a good first impression on the new lord. Now off you go! Not another word!"<br/><br/>Alain grabbed his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder, his sword still with him, as he moved to straddle the horse. "Thank you, my king."<br/><br/><div class="floatleft">(http://www.wallpaperslandscape.com/wallpapers/fantasy-castle-13-landscape-wallpaper-1024x768.jpg)</div>He started riding towards the castle, his jet black hair blowing in the sharp wind. It was quite a lovely view, he had to admit. The castle was on a high outcropping, overlooking his fiefdom in every direction. Rather than looking imposing or intimidating, it merely looked... strong. He was sure there was going to be much to learn about the people he now ruled over, but for the time being, he mostly wanted to see his new home. The horse rode along the path and headed up towards the castle. There were guards at the front gate who saluted him. He wondered idly how they knew he was the new lord, but then saw a drawing of himself on a poster on the wall - apparently the king had sketched him out and sent it to let the people know of their new lord. He sighed a little bit, wondering if the king was being flattering or if the years had actually grown him into a rugged kind of handsome. It had been some time since Alain had seen himself in a mirror.<br/><br/>Home, he thought. Well then, let's get a look at the place, from treasury to harem...