Author's Note - 'Trevilan Chronicles' are unconnected short stories set in the same world as 'The Prince's Potion,' this one takes place around five years later. Though not necessary, I strongly recommend reading those stories prior to this one. I realize my stories are not for everyone. If you're not interested in exaggerated sex organs, incest, inbreeding, and medieval/fantasy settings, this may not be for you. Thank you for the continued support and feedback!
All characters in sexual situations are 18 or older.
Trevilan Chronicles - Panther & Fox
Cylas Zalor walked barefoot along his beachfront property. The sun was low in the sky and made the waves appear a deep red. It was quiet at this hour, near the end of summer on the southern coast of Trevilan, where small communities like this one enjoyed the peaceful silence this time of year brought after the tourist season ended. Cylas sat down and picked up a clump of sand; let it fall through his fingers as he regarded the sunset. He thought about how good the last five years had been.
Despite the plague that had ravaged Trevilan, he, for whatever reason, had prospered. He was the current ambassador of Balmudia, and had been living here, about a day's ride from Castle Velcin, ever since he'd been appointed by the king, nearly five years ago. His predecessor had tragically died on his way home, that vile plague had already reached his home kingdom, and the rich former merchant Cylas, already based here in Trevilan for two years prior to the plague, was the logical successor.
A lot had changed in that time. He was forty-five now, old in these parts, and looked his age. Still handsome and in good shape, there were now white wings above his ears in his otherwise messy brown hair... he supposed that had come with the job.
And the years.
Frankly, he was happy to have any hair at all, with his genetics being what they were. His father had been bald by the time he was his age, and then had dead two years later from apoplexy.
Cylas had therefore wanted to age well because of his father. He looked after himself. He always tried to stay in good shape, maintain a healthy weight, given that he was a little taller than average, at just over six feet, and, despite swearing never to get married again after his divorce, still had a healthy sex life.
He smiled and enjoyed the sunset alone.
This little beach community, home of the official Balmudian consulate, wasn't a particularly busy area, but he could see why they had chosen to build the estate here. Compared to the long, harsh winters of the north, this place was the complete opposite. Long summers and short winters. Beautiful beaches with an extremely agreeable climate. It was just close enough to the castle for his official business but far enough to separate itself from the comings and goings of busy city life in the capital.
This little town had naturally enjoyed a thriving tourist scene prior to the plague, but the last five years were very slow. It was starting to bounce back but the young families and partying youth stopped coming. The population inevitably dwindled, once the foreign money disappeared, and most townsfolk had to commute back to the capital or pick up subsistence farming.
Still, Cylas loved this place, even if it was slowly dying. He stayed up to date on all the local gossip and goings-on. His eye still lingered on young flesh, slim as the pickings were. There were still a few lovely daughters walking around, who always seemed interested in the rich foreign noble living in the big house near the beach. He had
dethroned
a few willing virgins over the years,
slain a few dragons
. The women of the village affectionately referred to his ample member as
the battering ram
, his penchant for breaking maidenheads being the stuff of local legend.
Sure, he got lonely from time to time. Cylas had left his family in Balmudia to take work in Trevilan, that was almost eight years ago now, and it had eventually cost him his marriage. He hadn't grieved for very long. His wife hadn't seemed to either, remarrying less than a year later. Part of the reason he had taken the job in the first place was to get away from that woman and her very controlling family. The only thing he really regretted about moving here was that it had cost him his relationship with his daughter, Amyzek. His only child.
Amy was eighteen, but Cylas hadn't laid eyes on her since before the plague. Of course, they wrote to each other often, but it was far too risky for him or her to visit during the dark times. Cylas dipped his hands in the waves and wiped the sand off. He squinted and tried to picture what little Amy might look like today. He still had her most recent letter in his pocket.
Amy was now of age and, since most of the heavier quarantine measures in Trevilan had lifted, she had begged him to book her passage to Trevilan, so that she might live here and continue her education. Cylas could not have been happier at the proposal and had made all the preparations. He had written several letters to the royals of Trevilan, Balmudia, and his family. It was all arranged. The weeks had flown by and the waiting was finally over. His plans were coming together. He would retire in the next year and wanted nothing more than his daughter to be here with him.
Tomorrow, Amy's ship was due to arrive at the harbor in the capital.
Cylas stood up and walked along the beach, thinking about everything that his daughter's arrival meant. He was going to be a father again. He would get to really care for someone else again... and not just himself. But it also meant he would have to clean up and stop fooling around all the time. He'd have to get serious about his duties and obligations as representative of Balmudia, and then pass the baton to some new noble willing to do the work.
To be fair, the job had pretty lax during the plague. Balmudia and Trevilan were on good terms; the plague had oddly enough settled any tensions between them. Sure, trade could always be better but there was little helping it with such strict rules in place. Now that things were finally starting to pick up again, Cylas figured it was a good time to call it quits, let someone else do the hard work of forging stronger ties... and for him to try being a father again.
Amy's arrival, no doubt, would also mean an end to all the parties.
Cylas was fairly well known in this beach community, possibly throughout the high society of Trevilan, for his exclusive gatherings at the beach house. Lavish dinner parties, opulent masked balls, orgies. Cylas liked to party and most of his friends, his secret network of wealthy nobles (
