“Now time for defensive drills.” Flendreir informed me.
All the confidence I had built with my sword was slowly crushed. She gave me maneuvers to try and block her attacks, but even with her holding back, I was painfully slow compared to my elven instructor. She carefully slapped me with the flat of her blade, but each time she did, I knew I would have been cut in a real fight. Then we went to drills where I attempted my attacks on her, and she defended. My swings were diverted, misdirected and cut nothing but air as her curved blades intercepted and easily manipulated the length of my blade.
I could definitely tell that the heavier contacts made her wince, as the clash reverberated to her wrists. Elven swordsmanship was the definition of ‘float like a butterfly, sting like a bee’. Direct strikes were avoided and minimized. Speed, agility, dodging and diverting took the place of hard blocks. I’d seen a bit of HEMA fighters, but not enough to really be able to compare.
Finally, Flendreir was spent.
“Well, we made progress today.” She noted. “You have a long way to go before I’d recommend using a blade against a competent foe.”
I nodded glumly. “I figured that part myself.” I rubbed my biceps and triceps, they were one of the most common places she’d slapped me with her blades. I realized those strikes would have severed my muscles, making my arms worthless.
Flendrier gathered her scroll and we went down to have breakfast. I was a touch sore from the exercises. Especially my wrists, and legs, from the way I held the sword and the way my stance kept my knees bent and I had to keep most of my weight on the balls of my feet.
There were eggs, toast and for the first time something very near to bacon. The salty and fried strips of meat were crisp and tasty. It seemed a little change but it reminded me a little more of home and brought a smile to my face.
“You’ve practiced your blade work,” Narusil noted, “After we eat, we should go back to the Academy and practice your magecraft some more. You still are erratic in your control of the magic, and you need to lock that down before we move on.”
I nodded. The constant repetition was making the excitement of living out the dream of learning magic sour a bit. I had hoped to be learning a multitude of spells and quickly becoming some sort of Constantine or Doctor Strange, but it was evident that would take a lot more time.
At the Academy, Narusil kept focusing in on the tiny details of my ‘Ember Bolt’ spell. If it wasn’t my power levels, it was my accuracy or my focus. If I wasn’t focused enough, the ray spread out and was more of a gout of fire. If I wasn’t paying enough attention to my accuracy, I barely hit the target.
It wasn’t until I realized the ways I could start applying my sniper training to my spellcasting that I really started improving in her eyes.
“You seemed to start to really understand how it works, there at the end,” Narusil congratulated me, but followed it up with, “You must however continue to practice, spellcasting must become second nature or you’ll never be able to use it in a high stress situation.”
My brain once again felt like jelly as I returned home for lunch. A quick bath and a shave made me feel human again and the light lunch, mostly fruits with some fluffy and sweet fresh elven bread restored me somewhat.
Which was good, because after lunch a visitor dropped in on us. Three visitors in fact.
Elder Gledril and two other Elder Matrons, Oliphinar and Quarintor, knocked on our door shortly after we finished eating. Both Matrons were on the short side for elves, just over four and a half feet tall, though Oliphinar was probably two inches taller than her fellow matron. Gledril was right in that range too, making me wonder if shrinking with age was a thing among the elves. If it was, some were more resistant than others, as some of the elders were as tall as their younger counterparts.
After brief formal greetings and introductions to the two elders I’d seen at the amphitheater, but never actually met, Gledril got right down to business.
“As you may understand, as Elder Matrons, part of our responsibilities include ensuring that the males we are blessed with are properly cared for and able to do the work of siring the next generation.” Gledril explained. “You were given quite a sizable household and we wanted to come by and make sure you are adequately able to meet their needs, and due to your unique abilities, ensure they are meeting yours. How have things been going?”
“Well,” I started somewhat awkwardly, “I think they’re going well. I mean, Narusil has gotten pregnant and all the matrons seem to have enjoyed our time together.”
“Already a successful implementation?” Quarintor celebrated. “It was hard to believe the magic when it said this was possible, but this is great news!”
Narusil sat proudly nearby, absently stroking her lower stomach.
“That is great news, and we have received the requests for more maidens to be brought into your home. We wanted to be sure we weren’t setting expectations too high for the number of matrons you could sustain, now that you’ve had a week bound to your matrons, how thoroughly were they able to keep you occupied?”
“Well, the first two days went pretty fantastically. I was quite happy with how everything went with my matrons. Then, as I’m guessing you know, I had to head out for my engagement at El’Muth’Ran and we had to put that on hold. When I got back, I was able to, er, make love to my last Matron.” I explained awkwardly. I’d never been one to brag about my sex life, and this felt like telling a grandmother about how you were screwing her granddaughter. “And since then-”
“Wait.” Gledril cut me off, “You said you made love to your ‘last matron’ when you returned from El’Muth’Ran, and before the negotiations of Respite?”
“Yeah, Heilantu was patient and waited until then.” I reiterated.
“Patient? You call that patience?” Oliphinar fumed. “Matrons, did none of you think to pace your master and give him rest? Gods forefend, what is that… did three of you demand his attention in a single day?!”
“We didn’t demand his attention… he just gave it.” Narusil explained defensively.
“What’s the problem?” I demanded. “My matrons kept me happy and I was able to get one pregnant within a week. Why are you complaining?”
“The young master does have a point.” Quarintor agreed.
“You know as well as I do why they should have given him time. All males need time to recover or their seed becomes thin and weak.” Oliphinar snapped at the other elder.
“Yes, yes, of course.” Quarintor murmured her acceptance.
“Both of you, behave.” Gledril ordered.
“Um, if it helps, while yes, after a while a human male can get worn down, I know when my friend Jacob was trying to get his wife pregnant, they were… um, making love three times a day during her fertile period.” I explained. “The human body is perfectly capable of that. And most doctors back home suggest making love as often as possible during that period. I don’t think human males get so diluted like that.”
“What is a wife?” Narusil asked.
“Oh, um… it’s what we call a female partner in as close to a bonded relationship as we have on my world. Usually a man would have only one wife though.” I explained.
“Oh, so like a lone matron? Responsible for bearing all her master’s children?” Gledril mused.
“Yeah, but he is called her husband. Master sounds like the man rules or owns his matrons.” I explained.
“Oh, heavens no,” Oliphinar grimaced. “Words are such strange things, how they can mean such different things in different societies. A Master does not own his matrons, they simply devote themselves to him.”
Gledril furrowed her brow in thought. “You said that was for a short period, however… the last thing we wish to do is overcommit any male. A neglected matron is a sad life.”
As she sat, pondering on this dilemma, Lymarith and Amura walked into the room.
Lymarith had clearly spent all day working on her new wardrobe. Her new outfit was made of a dark green fabric that clung to her features very nicely. Her top was a thin chest wrap, only thick enough to cover her breasts and a portion of her ribs. Holding it up was a string that fed through a channel in the fabric in the center of her chest and then looped up behind her neck. Amura’s midriff was bare and her skirt rode low on her hips, only extending about two thirds of the way down her thighs. The waistline and the hem both dipped in the front and back, not low enough at the top to show anything it shouldn’t, and low enough in the front that while her legs freely loved outside the skirt, the hem kept all the important parts covered. The only conspicuous thing was what looked like the strings from a pair of panties rising out of her waistband to loop high over each hip.
Amura and Lymarith both seemed pleased with the new garb, and sat chatting quietly in the corner. I was glad to see Amura starting to make friends among the household.
“Ugh, does IT have to join us?” Oliphinar groaned in disgust.
“Excuse me, Amura is a member of my household and is welcome here. You are a visitor in my home,” I interjected. “If you can’t treat all the members of my household with respect, you are welcome to leave.”
Oliphinar turned slowly to stare at me, her brow furrowing, “By the Host, did you just try to expel me… over an inferior painted whore?”
I clenched my fists, “I’m going to give you one chance to retract that statement and apologize to Amura.”
Gledril was roused from her musings, and Quarintor began wringing her hands.
“Come now, surely we can-” Quarintor started as Gledril began looking around in confusion.
“I would rather eat my own excrement, than apologize to a-” Oliphinar started.