him on sight.
Utha had never known his parents and had never considered any other career than becoming a cleric of the One. He’d been given to the church in Ro Arnon when he was a baby; his pale skin and pink eyes were seen by the senior Purple clerics as a blessing from the Giants, and he’d joined the Black on his sixteenth birthday.
The Black church considered death a holy state, which they respected and feared in all its various manifestations. They were present at funeral pyres, and an army of Red knights was never permitted to go into battle without at least one Black chaplain. Their presence was held as a bad omen amongst the common people, with some justification, as they were also the One God’s assassins, men skilled in dealing death as well as honouring it.
In contrast to clerics of the other orders, Utha was permitted to drink and fuck as the mood took him and he was thankful that he had joined the least clerical of the clerics.
‘I’m not trying to make you jealous, Torian, but I’ve got a terrible thirst,’ Utha said as the young squire left the room to fetch his wine, ‘and it means we can talk without a serving boy listening in.’
‘He’s my squire. I killed his master in a duel and took over his tutelage.’
Utha raised his eyebrows and paused. After a few seconds he burst out laughing. ‘Okay, so you’ve got a boy to hold your cock while you go for piss… that’s not funny at all.’
‘He’s a good lad and, I admit, I felt bad about killing his master… He was an old fool, though. He backed me into a corner and I couldn’t let him go unpunished,’ Torian said seriously.
Utha had great affection for the Purple cleric but found his piety tiring. The clerics of nobility were generally a stiff-necked bunch and Torian was worse than most. He was honourable and trustworthy, but not a great companion if a man sought fun.
‘What did he do?’ Utha asked.
‘I had a grievance with him and all he needed to do was show me a little respect. Instead, he insulted me, so I killed him in a fair fight.’
‘For it to have been a fair fight he’d have needed to be as dangerous with a blade as you… and I consider that unlikely. You said he was an old man, so instantly I’m thinking you should have let it go.’ Utha’s voice had taken on a disapproving tone.
‘He was an old man, yes, but an old man with a longsword, armour and a claim to nobility. If he was man enough to insult me, he should have been man enough to back it up with action.’
Utha smiled and sensed that Torian would take any further comments rather personally. ‘Fair enough. Does the squire not have an issue with you having killed his former master?’
Torian shook his head. ‘Randall thinks that he wanted to die and I was just a means to that end. As I said, he’s a good lad.’
Utha let the matter drop and sat down on a small wooden stool, removing his axe from its sling and stretching his neck. ‘I will never get used to riding horses. The bastards seem intent on causing me pain every time I get on one.’
Torian sat opposite him and looked down at the axe with appreciation. ‘How’s Death’s Embrace serving you?’
Utha patted his axe fondly at the mention of its name. ‘I haven’t used her for a while… but I’m not regretting my choice, if that’s what you’re insinuating. A longsword just feels wrong somehow. Less satisfying when swung.’
Black clerics were permitted to wield any weapon they desired and, although most still wore a longsword, occasionally a cleric of death would select a more exotic weapon.
‘Get your mind away from duels and weapons, Torian, we can tell each other stories later. For now, I have orders for you and I’d rather get them out of the way before your boy comes back.’
Torian frowned. ‘Are we not going to talk about why you specifically were sent to accompany me?’
Utha had hoped that Torian wouldn’t pry into the reasons why he was not still out hunting risen
Utha had never known his parents and had never considered any other career than becoming a cleric of the One. He’d been given to the church in Ro Arnon when he was a baby; his pale skin and pink eyes were seen by the senior Purple clerics as a blessing from the Giants, and he’d joined the Black on his sixteenth birthday.
The Black church considered death a holy state, which they respected and feared in all its various manifestations. They were present at funeral pyres, and an army of Red knights was never permitted to go into battle without at least one Black chaplain. Their presence was held as a bad omen amongst the common people, with some justification, as they were also the One God’s assassins, men skilled in dealing death as well as honouring it.
In contrast to clerics of the other orders, Utha was permitted to drink and fuck as the mood took him and he was thankful that he had joined the least clerical of the clerics.
‘I’m not trying to make you jealous, Torian, but I’ve got a terrible thirst,’ Utha said as the young squire left the room to fetch his wine, ‘and it means we can talk without a serving boy listening in.’
‘He’s my squire. I killed his master in a duel and took over his tutelage.’
Utha raised his eyebrows and paused. After a few seconds he burst out laughing. ‘Okay, so you’ve got a boy to hold your cock while you go for piss… that’s not funny at all.’
‘He’s a good lad and, I admit, I felt bad about killing his master… He was an old fool, though. He backed me into a corner and I couldn’t let him go unpunished,’ Torian said seriously.
Utha had great affection for the Purple cleric but found his piety tiring. The clerics of nobility were generally a stiff-necked bunch and Torian was worse than most. He was honourable and trustworthy, but not a great companion if a man sought fun.
‘What did he do?’ Utha asked.
‘I had a grievance with him and all he needed to do was show me a little respect. Instead, he insulted me, so I killed him in a fair fight.’
‘For it to have been a fair fight he’d have needed to be as dangerous with a blade as you… and I consider that unlikely. You said he was an old man, so instantly I’m thinking you should have let it go.’ Utha’s voice had taken on a disapproving tone.
‘He was an old man, yes, but an old man with a longsword, armour and a claim to nobility. If he was man enough to insult me, he should have been man enough to back it up with action.’
Utha smiled and sensed that Torian would take any further comments rather personally. ‘Fair enough. Does the squire not have an issue with you having killed his former master?’
Torian shook his head. ‘Randall thinks that he wanted to die and I was just a means to that end. As I said, he’s a good lad.’
Utha let the matter drop and sat down on a small wooden stool, removing his axe from its sling and stretching his neck. ‘I will never get used to riding horses. The bastards seem intent on causing me pain every time I get on one.’
Torian sat opposite him and looked down at the axe with appreciation. ‘How’s Death’s Embrace serving you?’
Utha patted his axe fondly at the mention of its name. ‘I haven’t used her for a while… but I’m not regretting my choice, if that’s what you’re insinuating. A longsword just feels wrong somehow. Less satisfying when swung.’
Black clerics were permitted to wield any weapon they desired and, although most still wore a longsword, occasionally a cleric of death would select a more exotic weapon.
‘Get your mind away from duels and weapons, Torian, we can tell each other stories later. For now, I have orders for you and I’d rather get them out of the way before your boy comes back.’
Torian frowned. ‘Are we not going to talk about why you specifically were sent to accompany me?’
Utha had hoped that Torian wouldn’t pry into the reasons why he was not still out hunting risen
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