Thread: The bodyguard (Bound To Pleasure/Flassche)

The prince eyed the Warden carefully as she spoke to him. He knew her reaction would be somewhat similar, his previous warden had been rendered and blundering idiot when he first viewed him without a mask. Still this one did not make herself a fool, too much. His face was emotionless, similar to his mask, yet his eyes betrayed his irritation. He wanted a better reaction from his new toy, needed it in fact. A simple weave of fire and air brought a current of warm air underneath the mask, carrying it back to his face and locking itself back into place. Weaving was easy for his bloodline, simple things like levitation could be done even without channeling. Standing up he barked an order. Be quiet and serve me. He lead them to the throne room and he waited for his warden to take his place before he clapped his hands once. Seconds later a stream of servants rushed in, heading towards his room. Two guards brought the first merchant inside, a fat northerner judging by his coat and skin tone. He was dancing between bowing and kneeling every few seconds before finally prostrating himself in front of the godlike creature sitting in the throne. He asked for protection and the right of trading in the southern borders, setting up a new cotton and silk caravan route there. Lance knew this would no doubt be approved by his father and the counsel, so he began instructing the man on where to go, who to see. It irritated Lance that he and his father had so little power in this empire. The counsel of seven where the actual leaders, ruling behind the scenes while he and his fathers where just puppets. Puppets that needed to be locked up and protected, unless a war broke out. The counsel of seven spears. As the second merchant came in, Lance began feeling boredom and irritation setting in his mind. He slowly spun another weave, this one directed at the Warden. A weave so delicately slender and soft that she would not feel it grip the bond on her shoulder. A bit of prodding found the bond and he delved into it. Engulfing himself in the feeling of magic. Resonance was always a joyous experience. - The bearer of this mark will be unable to cause harm to the recipient of this mark. - The bearer of this mark will feel the strong need to protect the recipient of this mark. - The bearer of this mark will feel the presence off the recipient of this mark. - The bearer of this mark will be physically imbued by the recipient of this mark. The contract of four, as the mages called the bond of the warden. Lance knew them well, having had the pleasure of toying around with the bond of his previous warden. He simply weaved a new command in there, so softly and with such a deft hand, the Warden would never notice. - The bearer of this mark will feel the slightest bit of arousal when watching the bare flesh of the recipient of this mark. Lance hid a smile behind his mask, knowing full well how awkward that command most be. The warden would not notice a thing until his next confrontation with the prince, when his mask came off again. He nodded as he sent the last merchant out of the room. He waited for the merchant to salute and leave the room. As soon as the door closed Lance stalked out of the throne room and into the private quarters. He plopped down and grabbed his book again, sending a small thought through the bond that he required wine. He knew Warders were gifted in the art of swordplay, yet this woman was skilled, even by their standards. He could crush the warrior like a bug, incinerate her with a deft weave, yet she fascinated him. She was still wild and hard to tame, yet he would make sure she served him as he wanted to. Her gifts could be a valuable thing. Removing his mask, he let out a sigh as he placed it carefully on the table in front of him. He waited a minute before he grabbed the glass of wine he was offered. Swirling around the glass, he peered into the bloodlike liquid before sampling it, sipping on it sparingly. He inhaled the scent and savored the taste, not a bad year. He eyed her once as he himself leaned backwards, closing his eyes. The ward would protect himself from the warrior and his reaction time usually was enough to warn him from any intrusion at the door. How old are you, in mortal years Or has your fighting ability abilities clouded that grasp of time.