Another time

One

The ship was finally docking in Eldon ports. It was easy to guess it wasn't ordinary as it held no sails and didn't use wind to move. Instead, chopped metals, pieces of ancient culture melted together to form a beautiful, iron-shaped figure with steam going out of its pipes. The ship used warmth, and the force of boiled water to travel - a masterpiece of the Imperial Fleet of Bearlands. Of course the bears owned it, no other kingdom used the leftovers of ancient knowledge in fear of causing another apocalypse. And they were hated for it.

Commoners of Eldon have gathered to watch the strange ship docking, some praying to the High One to forgive the wretched sinners for using forbidden knowledge and not burn them all in cleansing fire as their ancestors centuries ago, while others just shared spiteful comments or laughed at disgusting bears who sent women to their wars to fight for them and bed whoever they wanted, not valuing marriage in the first place. Very few were actually curious of the way the strange nation lived and things they did, even though most of the information they had were stories of orgies on town squares and terrible experiments ran on poor children for reasons no one ever bothered to come up with. Besides, the Royals were there to greet the guests from the foreign land. People say, the King has sold his soul to the Demons the bears prayed to.

The King was standing there slightly nervous, even though not a muscle of his body showed it. Svetozar sent someone he trusted, an advisor he said, but George knew for a fact the bear emperor had no advisors. He had his subordinates who could speak their minds and even make some decisions themselves, but Zar hated advisors, saying they were worse than any plague as they told everyone what to do, but never held any responsibility. So whomever he sent, it must have been a joke played on George if he used that title for the man. Or woman. Fuck these bears with their women, untamed and spoiled.

And sometimes extremely arousing.

The King dropped a side glance at his son, Prince Harry, who stood beside his father lazily, his eyes grazing the ship in boredom. Hopefully, the boy will act respectfully, as he had to have been threatened and forced to attend the greeting. George sighed tiredly. He missed the times when he and his son were close, Harry excited with learning everything about his kingdom and drinking in all the knowledge his father was willing to share with the boy. But four years ago, father and son became too close, getting infatuated with the same woman - a beautiful, strong minded and wonderfully shaped princess who stayed in the palace during her short visit to the Island. Jealousy has torn father and son apart, Harry becoming a troubled child afterwards, missing out on his royal duties and focusing on partying with other young nobles in whorehouses across Eldon, while George drowned down in his duties he no longer could share with his son. Worst of all was even though she had such a strong impact on both their lives, they were merely a fling for her. Beautiful, strong minded, wonderfully shaped princess with a cruel heart.

Harry was gazing at the ship, fighting off his terrible hangover. He partied last night with Horan, worst of his friends as nights with that angel faced blonde boy always ended in the morning, and quite often not of the next day. He only got back to the palace from the whorehouse hours ago, never managing enough sleep to get some sort of sense of reality back. He barely got to wash off the smell of the whore Horan and himself were fucking together. However, his dick probably still reeked of her ass. Or cunt. Whatever he did last.

Preoccupied with thoughts about what his dick smelled like, Harry almost missed the moment the ship stopped docking and the crew started disembarking. The first to leave the ship was a dark haired, thin man in a dark blue coat and tight pants of the same color tucked in his knee high boots. Something about him seemed off, but Harry couldn't quite place what it was. He was short and thin, even though his hips seemed a bit too wide for his posture. The man nearly jumped off to the shore, chatting quickly with the dockers who helped dock the ship, then caught his leather backbag that has been thrown him from the deck before the rest of the crew started leaving the ship. The man looked around quickly, nodded as soon as he spotted the Royals at the end of the pier, and started moving in their direction, jumping slightly as he walked.