The Werewolf Order (Erotica)

Todd appears next to Mora, waiting for her to swallow a bite of the chicken, “Well, how is it? I’m sure it isn’t as good as home, but..”

“No,” Mora interrupts him. She can see Todd’s demeanor wilt a little before she smiles, “It’s much better. What is that, that I taste?” Todd beams as Mora leans in to take a whiff of the chicken, “Is it sage and… thyme?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he manages to blurt out through his huge smile.

Mora turns to him, “It adds just the right flavor without being too overpowering.” The rest of the table stops mid-chew, staring at both of them.

“Thank you,” Todd says proudly. When he sees everyone else, his smile fades and he glares at them, “What? It is about time my cooking was appreciated by a refined palate instead of a bunch of wild dogs,” he snorts at them. His face changes instantly when he looks back to Mora, “Would you like something to drink?”

She smiles, swallowing another bite of chicken, “Please. Whatever they are having will be fine.”

Todd shifts uneasily. The rest of the table continues to stare at them, not moving. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like something a bit more… delicate?”

Mora smiles at her plate, whispering back even though she knows everyone can hear her, “No, thank you. Anymore special treatment and I’m afraid Sari will beat us both into a pulp.”

Sari snorts a laugh, affirming Mora’s statement.

“Very well then,” Todd hesitantly pours the thick wine into Mora’s glass. She delicately picks it up, swirling it to release its scent though she finds it doesn’t have much of one. She sips it, closing her eyes to avoid the six other pairs watching her. The wine is thick like honey. It has a slightly sweet flavor, accompanied by a tart burn of alcohol. When she swallows, the flavor reminds her of the forest: dark, robust and woody. It has a slightly metallic aftertaste.

Mora continues eating daintily, finishing a majority of the food on her plate before she gets full. She also finishes the glass of wine before she looks up. Six pairs of eyes, unmoved, stare back at her. They look at her odd like she just did something bizarre but she has no idea what it could be.

“Would you like more wine?” Rick asks; there seems to be more behind his question than the obvious.

She can feel the warmth of the alcohol loosen her muscles, something she greatly missed when she was in Irron’s company. Despite the uneasy feeling she gets from Rick, she replies curtly, “Please.”

Todd pours her another glass and she sips it.

“Well, how is it?” James asks.

“It’s… different… than what I’m used to. A bit heavier and thicker but it has a nice flavor.”

A few of them snort in astonishment. Todd offers them another glass but all of them refuse except Rick.

Mora continues her study of the table while the others finish their meal. Conversation starts up again. When there is a lull, Lucas stands and stretches.

“Come on, then,” he says to Mora. She looks at him and can see that he was completely serious about fighting her. She gets a sinking feeling in her stomach. She has never before gotten into a fight with another human. In all actuality, having only ever trained with Laren, he is the only one who has seen what she is capable of yet she has never fought him with the intentions of hurting him, only to get the best of him. She looks over to Rick for some help-he ignores her. She deserved the first time but she thinks his continuing grudge is unwarranted.

Irritated, she gives Lucas a tight smile and stands up. Perhaps if she pretends to be weak he will take pity on her and call off the duel. He walks slowly to the large stage behind her; she didn’t notice until now but the wall that supports the balcony holds several racks of weapons, each different but organized by type, much like Laren’s office. There are a few she is unfamiliar with, like the chain that has a ball of spikes on one end and a handle on the other, or the staff that has three spear tips arranged in a fork; for the most part, the rest of the weapons have some resemblance to what she was trained with. On the stage Lucas tests several swords, trying to find one with the right weight.

Hesitantly, Mora walks up the steps to join him. She wipes her wet palms on her thighs. He notices her hesitation and explains, “While in most countries, a tavern is a place where you go to get drunk and happen into a fight, in Sceadu, a tavern is where you go to get into a fight and happen to get drunk.”

“Why would anyone want to get into a fight?” Mora says, aghast.

Lucas laughs at her, “Well if we didn’t practice, we wouldn’t do too well in battle, now would we?”

“So you just fight-anyone? Without reason?” She is completely dumbfounded. In Derven there are a handful of fighting trainers that citizens learn from; they never willingly fight anyone else.

“Of course darling!” He hands her a sword, his words mocking her. She tentatively grabs it; it is substantially heavier than any she is used to. The unexpected weight of the weapon makes her hand sag to towards the ground. The sword is straight and about half as long as she is tall; in Derven, the few swords they train with are shorter with curved blades to maximize follow through and ensure a quick death. They are also a lot lighter. Mora looks at the crude weapon with disgust. She can hear Daniel, James and Sari laugh at her expense.

“Come now,” Lucas says, somewhat gently. He walks towards her and wraps her fingers around the hilt, holding her arms up so he can show her a stance; it seems unnatural, awkward and foreign compared to how she would have stood but necessary for her to counterbalance the weight of the sword.

“What’s the matter, Mora, do people in your country not fight?” Daniel manages to get out amidst his chuckles at her awkwardness.

“Not without the intention of killing someone,” Mora mutters to herself. She looks at Lucas; he has walked away from her but is now facing her from across the stage. Her voice pleads, “Is this really necessary?”

Without hesitation he flies at her, his sword raised high. Instinctively she raises her own to block but the weight of his blow combined with the unfamiliar weight of her sword causes her to fall backwards, landing on her back and hitting her head hard on the floor. She can hear Sari’s hysterical laughter-it makes her angry.

“Are you alright?” Lucas says standing above her with his hand extended to help her. Mora grabs his arm and pulls herself up.

“This is absurd!” She shouts, somewhat louder than she intended to. Mora takes a deep breath, now angry for her outburst. Exhaling slowly to calm herself she turns and walks to the stairs. Sari’s mocking voice makes her stop.

“What’s the matter, princess? Afraid you’ll break a nail?”

Mora bites down hard, stopping her tongue from delivering a lashing. Her body begins to burn hot with anger. She looks up at the table; Sari glares at her through a sneer, Daniel and James suppress their laughter. Rick just stares at her, knowing blue eyes seem to urge her on.

The path of peace always circles the one to violence, her father’s voice rings through her head. She can feel the adrenaline pump through her body. Her mind, all her teaching, tell her that pride is something to sacrifice to avoid violence. Pride on the other hand surges through her veins. Mora turns on her heels, walking back to the wall of weapons. She roughly discards the primitive sword on the ground; the loud crash it makes silences the whole room. Knowing all eyes in the tavern are on her, she takes her time and slowly walks the length of the racks, examining each of the weapons carefully, trying to find one that will suit her purpose. When she reaches the end, she finds a barrel full of staffs made of bamboo. She touches each of them, wrapping her hand around their girth until she finds one that fits right in her fist. She pulls it out; it is almost as tall as she is. While she wedges one end into the corner formed by the wall and the floor, James’ voice breaks the silence.

“Really? Adults use those to teach the kids, so they don’t hurt them too badly.”

Mora leans the other end of the stick on her shoulder and pulls down towards the middle, testing the bamboo for brittleness. It bends a little but doesn’t break or even groan under the pressure. She turns and walks back to Lucas, standing with her feet shoulder width apart, staff held horizontally in both of her hands.

“That is exactly what I mean to do,” she looks at Lucas but her words are meant for Rick.NôvelDrama.Org holds text © rights.

“What, not get hurt too badly?” Lucas mocks her.

Mora smiles sincerely, “Teach you a lesson.”

Lucas shakes his head at her seeming ignorance. He raises his sword and takes a few steps forward, swinging it at her with one hand. At the last possible moment Mora ducks into a roll, stopping behind Lucas. She swings the staff swiftly, knocking his heels out from under him. He falls on to his back, sword flying from his grasp. He makes more noise than he should have because he wasn’t expecting her to be capable of anything.

“Lucky shot,” Mora can hear Sari mutter.

She stands, leaning against the staff, looking down upon Lucas, “Do you yield?”

“Never,” Lucas grins at her. Now, he is enjoying this. He kicks at her shins but Mora jumps into a back flip. When she lands, she twirls the staff in front of her, letting it come to rest with one end against the back of her neck, the length of it against her right arm and the other end on the floor. She waits patiently for Lucas to get up and find his sword.

When he does, he strikes at her, again and again. Mora deftly deflects the blows with the staff, whacking the flat side of his blade away. They move back and forth across the stage; she knows he is trying to push her to the edge to make her fall but each time she gets close she ducks and rolls behind him.