I Was a College Professor Reincarnated as a Wolf King?! Chapter 6
Story by stripedkittyscribe on SoFurry
Trevor meets with Baron Teers and promises something that he may not be able to deliver.
I Was a College Professor Reincarnated as a Wolf King?!
Chapter 6
Trevor Gates was just an old college professor that was facing retirement down with a scowl. When he's unexpectedly killed, otherworldly beings take his soul and bring it into a new world so that he can end centuries of stagnation. Unfortunately for him, this involves not just a new culture, but a new species, and not all of the aspects of either sit well with him.
This story will contain sexual acts, including dubious/non-consentual, homosexual, and themes of domination/submission, as well as violence and death. The medieval world that Trevor finds himself in is not kind in many respects. If you are not of legal age to consume adult material, do not proceed.
Trevor, Distal Bend, Sheriff's House
After his morning bath, Trevor went to the fields to take up one of the ropes. The seed drill had been (mostly) successful. It did its job well enough that everyone who saw it finally understood that the reason that it wasn't working as well as it should was that it was simply crude, rather than a bad idea. There had been a few breakages. One of the wheels had gotten stuck repeatedly as the clay caught in it. It had been back-breaking work pulling it. But it had also done exactly what he'd said. Two fields a day, plowed, sowed, and covered.
While it was true that he knew that he did have other things that he “should" be doing, he also thought that this was important. It was important that he spend time taking care of helping the village solve their immediate problem, showing that he wasn't someone who was higher and mightier than anyone else, and that he would pitch in as required. Besides all of that, he really was bigger than anyone else, stronger and could go for longer stretches without needing a break. It also gave him time to think and organize his thoughts.
Furrow Plower had returned the day before, and no one was particularly happy with him, in that he'd not done what he was told.
Trevor looked at it like he'd been taught while he was in the military. He recognized that it was a perfectly reasonable set of decisions, given what information the rider had access to.
Furrow Plower was told that he needed to go to Sir Javeth first. Sir Javeth hadn't been there. So he'd moved on. Perfectly rational. He'd left the message for Sir Javeth with Baron Teers rather than delivering it himself. That was an order from someone higher up the food chain. Sort of. Still, making that case would likely have been a bad move for Furrow Plower and Distal Bend, and thus was also perfectly rational. He'd returned straight to Distal Bend with a single day's worth of hard riding.
That was just impressive, given what Trevor knew of the roads. He certainly didn't like Furrow Plower, and the excess that the rider had gone to in 'reminding his slaves who owned them' had been infuriating. If he'd known about it at the time, he would have stopped it.
The fact remained that while the mission's basic objectives had been completed, Trevor hadn't gotten what he'd expected as a result. The letter from Baron Teers indicated that he would be coming to visit some time soon, and that they would discuss the situation with Sir Javeth, and the promises and pledges that he'd made to both of the local nobles. That was probably a good thing. It would give Trevor a chance to meet the Baron, and evaluate him personally.
What he'd really wanted, though, was an assessment of how Sir Javeth had taken the message. Then again, would Trevor have really been able to trust that assessment? Probably not.
His new sandals were caked in mud from hauling on the ropes in the fields, and everyone was taking their mid-day break. Wives and husbands and the few slaves were all making sure people had enough water and food. A few of the younger couples were even slipping off for some amorous attentions, and Trevor's tail wagged. In spite of his concerns about the local nobility, everyone seemed generally happy, and even hopeful.
There had been some initial tension between Three Feather and him when she'd delivered the sandals, and she'd asked to speak with him in private. In a typically blunt military fashion, she'd asked about whether he intended to force her to give up Awl and Rack. She wasn't able to hide what she wanted his answer to be, though, and even if he hadn't already decided to give up on that particular fight for the time being, he wouldn't have the heart to take them from her. She had been ready to fight over it, and the way that Awl had been standing behind her for protection from him told him everything that he needed to know about how she treated them.
The children were building the kiln and seemed to be treating it as a big game. It was an ugly bastard, but everything always was the first time it got built. He would have to see about getting some kind of salt in order to do glazing. That would make for much better pottery, for all sorts of uses. Then there was the need for quartz sand for glass, and he still needed to find a source of iron and… so many other things.
Trevor's head was in River Blossom's lap, dozing as he thought. She was petting him. There really was no other word for it. She was petting him. And he liked it. Running her hand and fingers through his hair and across his ears. The part of him that he still thought of as 'human' rather than 'wolfman' was interested in how his physical reactions worked. Occasionally she would brush her fingers just right and his ear would flick from the tickling. She wasn't making a point of doing that, and therefore it wasn't annoying him. His eyes were closed, and it was just nice.
She was practically radiating contentment. Master had finally settled down. And he was doing things. Maybe they wouldn't be helpful to the village. The mud thing that the children were piling up didn't make sense to her. It was far too small to be a house, and he hadn't told anyone what it would be used for. Maybe a place to store small items? Regardless, he wasn't angry, and she was proud of him for what he was doing and how. He seemed to know, and that was good enough for her. River Blossom trailed her fingers along his chest, him laying on the grass with her leaning back against a tree. It was peaceful.
“If you make my leg start kicking, I'm going to be very upset," he mumbled while smiling.
Her head tilted. “What?"
He laughed. “Back where I came from, we had animals that looked very much like you do. Imagine something like a very small klika, only with your head, and with claws instead of hooves. Many people kept them in their homes as guard animals and companions. One of the things that we always found fun was to pet their bellies a certain way, and their hind legs would start kicking."
She started scratching at his chest, and he laughed harder. It turned into a bit of a playful wrestling match, her trying to find the spot with him just as urgently trying to keep her from locating any such place. Truthfully he doubted such a reaction was even possible. But she was giggling, and when he ended up on top of her, pinning her wrists to the ground, she leaned up to nuzzle at his throat.
“If I didn't know better, I'd think that you liked losing to me," he mock-growled down at her.
“I win either way," she said, and pushed her lips against his.
He was just about to demonstrate that winning was something they both could do when someone called that riders were approaching from the west. That snapped their heads up toward the west, and Trevor was upright with a muttered apology to her before she could say anything.
Furrow Plower was one of the first people on the edge of the village, and he looked upset. “That's Baron Teers, Abbot Teers, and a few guards. And they're riding under a banner of Shan. They're not going to attack."
Trevor knew that if it came down to a fight, there was little that he could do. He still wasn't entirely clear on the subtleties of heraldry for this new land, but if Furrow Plower was saying that an attack was unlikely, he'd have to accept that. Such a statement made among people who could dispute facts being a lie wasn't likely. “Send word for Three Feather to ensure that the bows are ready to use, but not to arm anyone just yet." River Blossom dashed off to obey.
Baron Teers stopped well short of the village square and raised his hand. “I am Baron Teers. I can only assume that you are the one called Trevor," he called while looking right at Trevor.
“I am," he called back as he walked forward. “I'm told the banner you're riding under is a banner of peace. If that is true, please come forward, and be welcome." Trevor looked over his shoulder to find Timber Hauler. “Please see to their mounts and bring refreshment." Turning back to the approaching group, he held his arms wide. “Please forgive the lack of luxuries. I'm sure that you're used to finer things than peasant fare, but you are welcome to anything that we have."
The group rode forward, passing the field that was in the middle of being plowed that day, and the Abbot reined his steed in while looking at the contraption. “What… what is that thing," he asked.
Trevor didn't know why, but he felt embarrassed. “It's a rough design for something that we can use to sow and plow fields faster. I know how to build better ones, but I lack the material to do so."
The Abbot studied it for a few moments more, then urged his klika forward to rejoin the group, and then climb down with the help of one of the guards.
Baron Teers looked around, observing things. No wall being thrown up. No archers posted. No evidence of drilling soldiers marching or practicing maneuvers. He looked over at the Abbot and gave a snort of a chuckle. “Seems that you were right." He turned his attention back to Trevor and waved the apology away. “No need, I'm not all that concerned about being comfortable. Just effective."
Trevor motioned toward a table and two benches that had been carried from the barn. “It sounds like you and I could have several things to discuss, then. Shall we sit?"
Timber Hauler had arranged for the rest of the roast game to be brought, what was left over from the mid day meal. He'd given orders that hunting parties should be out every day to try to stretch their food supply as much as possible. Normally, there wouldn't be hunting this early, or at least not so much hunting this early. However, game was plentiful and the trees and swamps around the Distal provided more than enough for the whole valley, at least for a year. They would doubtless have to be cautious about overhunting, but it was necessary for this year. And if Trevor turned out to be right, they could leave the game alone next year to let it recover.
Abbot and Baron Teers sat across from Trevor, leaving the guards to tend the mounts. “I apologize for the short message that I sent you, but I fear my attention that day was taken up by matters of diplomacy." It was short. Terse even. 'I will speak more with you soon.'
Trevor shrugged, shifting in his seat to get comfortable. “I expect that you have more than you can honestly deal with right now. Impending crop failures due to the rains washing so many fields away, and the Equids being a problem. My understanding may be imperfect but you are thinking of campaigning to reclaim lands lost this last year during a war with them?"
Baron Teers didn't doubt that at least one of the villagers had told him about the war last year, and reclaiming those lands would be an obvious conclusion to draw. The chances of there being a spy were so low as to honestly be laughable, especially with how little Trevor had in the way of extra resources.
“I won't say that the whole kingdom is in an uproar over the flooding rains, but there is more than a little bit of concern about the impending famine."
Trevor sighed, and nodded. “I don't think that I can honestly do anything to stop that. There's simply no way that I can get my ideas out fast enough to save more than a handful of villages. The flow of information is simply too slow."
Abbot Teers ate slowly, chewing the game with the patience of someone who had the sore body of one who was truly ancient by the local standards. “How quickly would you need communication to be, in order to make a difference?"
Trevor blinked at the question. “Nearly instantaneous, honestly. I don't understand what you're driving at though."
Baron Teers thought for a few moments more, and then patted his Abbot on the shoulder. “I don't think that he could make use of that ritual, and even if he could, I don't know that it would help."
Trevor leaned forward. “You might be surprised what I could do. Please explain what you're hinting at, though. Remember that I come from somewhere else. We have a total lack of magic."
Abbot Teers took a drink of water, and then said, “Each member of the clergy has the capacity to communicate a certain way, once a year. We can speak, or allow someone else to speak, to every town in the kingdom. Not every village. But every town or city."
Trevor winced. “Speak for how long?"
Abbot Teers looked at Trevor, judging him. “Long enough for the speaker to deliver a speech. Not all day, but neither is it a single sentence."
Trevor scratched at the back of his head with his claws, grimacing as he tried to estimate how long he would need in order to communicate the instructions for how to build the plow. “Too many moving parts," he mumbled to himself. “In order for me to do anything to help, to really help fix this, people would have to have empty fields that they hadn't sown. Then they would need to build one of these devices. That takes a day per machine, maybe two if they're simply following instructions without understanding what the machine should look like. Then they would need to transport them to all of the villages. That would take at least a day per village. Then the farmers would need to use the machine, and that would take two or three days, depending on how stubborn they are. I don't know about your farmers, but where I came from, they tended to be very resistant to any kind of change, even after it had been proven to be effective." He slumped, realizing just how daunting this task was.
“I am willing to perform my part in this," Trevor continued. “I simply doubt that it would be all that effective. Does the kingdom have enough stock seed to replace the crops as it is? If we hadn't just had this disaster, I would have wanted a year to test and refine the design, and then manufacture it with better materials than just raw timber and pegs. I don't think that I even really understood just how important some of the things I used to take for granted in my previous life were, and my whole life revolved around teaching about those things. We had a saying there, 'there's knowledge, and then there's understanding'. Does that make sense?"
Baron Teers took a long drink of water, and had been listening the whole time. “I don't know how the rest of the kingdom is. I have orders from my Viscount to ensure that there is enough stock seed available to replace one year's crops. That could come from higher up. That could be a policy of hers. I can say that my lands will have enough seed to re-plant, and those orders and seed have gone out to the various farmers already. It's why I was delayed in coming here, I had to spend time in correspondence with my Lord and my other knights."
Trevor slumped in relief. “That is good to hear. I don't doubt that it will still be a lean year, but not so lean as to cause mass starvation."
Abbot Teers looked over his shoulder at the machine that was sitting by the trail into the village, and how Timber Hauler was organizing another group to pick up the ropes and get to work. He turned, looking at the other fields, and how they had already been planted and covered, and this was the last half of the last one that needed to be done.
Baron Teers kept his eyes on Trevor. “I find it interesting that you are as concerned as you are about the population's food, considering that Sir Javeth is telling me that he'll be marching on you in a month's time."
Trevor started, eyes snapping to Baron Teer's face. He opened his mouth to start demanding explanations, but then froze. Calculating. Chasing thoughts to their logical end. “You ordered him to stand down, didn't you?" He sat up straighter. “No. No, you haven't ordered him to stand down yet. You're here because you want to see what's more valuable to you, a peaceful and inventive Chosen, or a proven warrior of a Knight."
Abbot Teers wheezed a laugh, turning his attention back to the table. Having observed the operation of the plowing sledge, he couldn't see anything that he could truly learn. “Your majordomo warned you that he was educated, my Lord," the old cleric almost cackled.
Baron Teers gave a dark smile. “More or less," he admitted. “I have already written orders to him telling him that he may not attack you. But I have not dispatched or delivered them." He held up an inscribed plank, waggling it. “The loss of a village's worth of food and soldiers is annoying. Especially with your declaration that you have no intention to participate in any kind of war. It imposes several problems on me. You're tucked right into the center of my lands. And while you are on a peninsula, and anyone who would come to invade you by land would have to go through my territory to get to you, you're also across the sea from the Mustelid empire. They could invade you by sea quite easily. Therefore you're still imposing a problem on me to defend you."
Trevor wanted to scrub his hands over his face. He hadn't asked for any of this. He didn't want to deal with invasions or any of this. “I'm a teacher, dammit, not a warrior," he said as he buried his face in his hands.
Baron Teers clattered the plank onto the table. “So here is how things stand. I can order Sir Javeth to stand down. I can even issue him orders to go deal with other things so that he can't invade you. These orders are for him to lead a patrol along the lines of my territory, and he couldn't move against you before he would have to obey these. Or, I can do nothing, and Sir Javeth will show up in a month, and eradicate you."
Trevor pulled himself back upright, slowly. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then let it all out. “But you don't want to let him attack. Because either way, you lose."
Baron Teers smiled, coldly. “And why is that?"
Trevor gripped the edge of the table. “You lose a village no matter what. If Sir Javeth wipes us out, you don't get the village population back. If you order him to stop, then you still don't get the village because legally it's mine now and I'm outside of your control. But if I make it worth your while, then you gain something that you couldn't have had without me. The question you're asking yourself is whether that gain is worth the trouble." He looked up at the noble across from him. “So what is it that you need?"
Baron Teers spread his hands, that same cold smile on his muzzle. “Make me an offer. I need many things. Food. Weaponry. By the pits, if you could give me good iron, I would make you a Knight in Sir Javeth's place after he gets promoted."
“I don't want to be a Knight," Trevor almost snapped. “I don't want power, or the obligations that go with it. And I don't know where I could get iron."
Baron Teers waved toward the mountain that made up Javeth Point. “I have all of the iron in the world. It's simply ruined."
Trevor looked at the mountain, and for the first time, truly looked at it. Every time that he'd seen it before, he'd just seen 'a large rock'. But now that he was looking at it more closely, he could see the ruddy color. And then things that he'd heard started occurring to him. “Rust Shores. It's literally rust," he whispered.
Abbot Teers gave him a sour look. “Why did you think that it was called that, boy?"
Trevor shook his head, too many thoughts whirling through his mind. “I thought it was the color. Not the material," he admitted. “Let me think for a moment." He closed his eyes to concentrate, and 'searched' for how to get iron from rust.
It took a few different wordings for him to find something that he could use, but he found something. Dump the rust into an electrolyte bath, stick an anode and cathode in, run an electrical current through it, and you'd get your iron back. The free oxygen would come out of the water, probably either as O2 or maybe some O3. He wasn't a chemist, he had no idea how that part of it would actually work.
The anode and cathode would be simple enough, any conductor would do the trick and copper and bronze were available. Wordlessly, he started using his claws to scratch numbers into the table, calculating the amount of iron that he could expect. When he got to the end of it, he laughed. “Well at least that number is easy to work with. For every 100 stones of soil that I can work with, I can probably get a stone's worth of iron."
Both Abbot and Baron Teers looked at each other. “How is that number easy to work with over any other," Abbot Teers asked.
Trevor waved it away, “Nevermind. I can get you iron. I can even smelt it here." He thought about that. Would he even need to really 'smelt' it if he was just putting raw Fe into the mix? He shook his head. Too much to think about. “I'll need time, of course. I'm not a magician, I can't just wave my hands and produce it. I'll need at least a month to get everything built so that I can start making the iron. I'll need a furnace, and a bath. And a few other things. Copper. Probably a lot of copper but I'm not sure."
Baron Teers leaned forward over the table, fingers clenched into fists. “Now that's quite the promise to make. You're telling me that within a month, you can have stones of iron coming to me?"
Trevor held his hands up, “I'm saying that I can do it, but I'll need at least a month, probably closer to two. And I'm going to need a lot of things that I don't have. And that's only a guess about how much I can get. It could be a little less," he cautioned. “I am making a lot of assumptions here. A LOT of assumptions."
Baron Teers narrowed his eyes. “You mentioned a bath, and a furnace, and copper. What else?"
Trevor thought before replying, “I couldn't exactly say right now, and I don't know how to explain what it is in terms that you would understand. Or even if there are words in the language for it." He patted the air down, seeing the anger forming in the eyes across the table. “I'm not saying that either of you are too stupid to understand. I'm saying that I have so many words that I would use that I don't know how to say them yet. And when I try to use them, I just make incoherent noises."
Abbot Teers softened before Baron Teers did. “I have read that the Chosen frequently do that, though no one ever understood why, as far as they recorded it. Please, just as an example. Speak as if you were using your old language?"
Trevor said, “I need a way to run an GRRrggrgrr through a rrrRRRrrrr and a rrrrgGrrgGRRg while the rust is in a bath of RRRrgrrgrgrgrrgr so that it frees the iron from the grRRRgrrgr." He shrugged. “You see? I can do what claim. I can even demonstrate the process to you and show you and name what things are, but I have to be able to give you words and say 'this is what this is and this is what it does'."
Baron Teers shook his head, eyes still narrow. “I don't care if you can explain it to me or not. I care whether you can do it or not. For the time being, you may send to me for anything that you need. I will not promise you every last bit of something, but I will send you what I can. If you promise that you will have nothing to do with any of the other nations on this land, I may even be able to start sending you luxuries."
The offer made Trevor blink and lean back. “Luxuries? I don't know what… oh. Uh." He laughed, “I don't think that you'll understand but my understanding is that you use a device to press fruit to make juice for wine. Is that correct?"
Abbot Teers nodded. “We have something like that, yes."
“And what about rrrgr? … Well that answers that." Trevor wanted to slam his head on the table. He just wanted a glasier. It wasn't so damn hard, was it? “I may be able to make new materials for you that your own craftsmen can use in various ways. If there's as much rust as you're indicating in the area, I don't know that I'll run out of it for a while. What I really need is a mason. And a carpenter. A good mason and carpenter and a potter." He gave a sheepish grin. “And the smith."
Baron Teers was scowling.
“But," Trevor continued, “I know that skilled crafters are at a premium right now. And I honestly don't think that I could feed them at this point unless you were able to sell me food for the iron." He tapped his finger on the table for a few seconds before asking, “What are the limitations of your healing magics? Say that a soldier loses a leg in battle. Can you regrow that leg?"
Abbot Teers shook his head. “Not usually. There are exceptions of course, but regrowing a limb takes a very powerful cleric and the same amount of healing could probably save the lives of several ticks of soldiers."
Trevor tapped his finger on the table more. “What happens to those soldiers who come back from war wounded that way?"
Baron Teers looked like the question annoyed him. “They are healed as best we can, and then discharged from service with a sum of coin for their pain and trouble."
Trevor grimaced. He knew that he could make significant improvements in the lives of any who would have lost the use of their legs especially, doubtless no one in this world had ever heard of a wheelchair. Still, that kind of development tended to assume a lot of things in order to be practical. “I would not want to deprive you of skilled craftsmen. But I also don't have the time to train them how to hold a saw myself. If I were to give you a list of workers that I needed, with the promise to take them off of your hands in, say, a year's time, after they have learned the basics of their trade, would you impose a requirement on your skilled tradesmen that they take in one wounded soldier and teach them? Preferably ones who have lost a leg, though I will help any."
Baron Teers pursed his lips. “That would take some of the strain off of our resources. And you would have my personal thanks. I don't particularly like that I'm not able to care for them but I can't, and that's that. Give me a list of jobs that you need done and I'll see about making them happen."
Trevor leaned back over his shoulder and called for an awl and some spare planks. He started to scratch the list into the wood, and Abbot Teers rested a hand over the material. “If I may," he said as he produced what looked to Trevor like a chisel with a rounded blade. “Please accept this as a gift. It's what we use to make consistent, quick marks in wood. It's just as fast, but it is neater."
Trevor thanked him, and then once he got the basic concept down, he had to agree with the Abbot's assessment; cleaner, but just as fast. He wrote the list down, and the longer he went, the more that the Baron looked like he was exasperated. “This is far more detail than it is actual substance," Trevor said as he slid the list across. “For right now, I need some bronze or brass parts, copper that's been worked into a long, thin strand, and a potter, as soon as you can send me one. I don't even truly need them to be able to do fine, detailed work. As a matter of fact, as long as they can mix clay properly then that's all I need. The carpentry can simply be items for now, but that will be the next one that I need."
They talked a few minutes longer, but that really was about all that they needed to go over. Baron Teers would assign some of his craftsmen to train wounded soldiers in the basics of the trades. Within a week of him returning to Teers, he would send the initial set of items down, and the second set of items would follow a week later. In two months, Trevor would start sending iron up to Teers. Sir Javeth would be sent off to keep him from causing trouble with Trevor.
Abbot Teers peeked over at the list, and asked, “But why would you need a wine press? You don't even produce fruit here."
Trevor laughed. “The frame and the press itself are what I need. I repurpose the mechanical bits to do other things."
Neither of his guests seemed to understand, and that was alright with Trevor. He had too much to do to spend time explaining right now.
Baron Teers, Trevor and others; Distal Bend
Baron Teers and his party had decided to sleep in the barn, until Furrow Plower had offered to simply give up his house to them (and the use of his slaves, of course) and then a communal meal was held to honor the guests.
The lack of an inn was embarrassing for Trevor, especially considering how the Baron was something like a patron. He'd wondered about the lack of camping gear, until he remembered that klika can't handle much weight. Surely the Baron had expected there to be a lack of accommodation.
Trevor spent most of his night after the meal going over notes, and looking up things that he needed in what he was starting to refer to as simply 'online'.
Timber Bringer was beginning to get annoyed with him simply due to the amount of planks required.
Trevor had promised him that he would come up with a better solution soon, but for the time being, it was the best option they had.
River Blossom spent most of the night soothing and calming her Master's anxieties down, or doing her best to prevent him from being distracted. She saw how he was working so hard, even if she didn't understand it. And she saw that the more he worked on things, the more he got frustrated. And what was worse she couldn't get him to explain why.
Not that he didn't try. He did. He just couldn't find a way to use words that didn't translate. And the more that he did that, the angrier he got that he couldn't get his point across.
So she pushed his hand away from the planks, and decided to take him to bed. For the first time since they'd started sharing a bed, he resisted, so she put herself into his lap, and tucked his head in against her shoulder, petting his ears and forcing him to take at least a small mental break. “You have so many words," she told him gently. “I can only imagine how frustrating it would be to not be able to use them."
He growled softly, and she recognized that it wasn't aimed at her. “I could probably get this done in a month, if I could only get this one part done." He thumped his hand on the table, and then curled his arms around her. “I spent almost all of my adult life teaching others about how my old world got as far as it did. I know the problems. I know the solutions. I just can't make them happen. Because I can't tell you what I need."
She ran her claws through his hair, and settled him against her chest, tucking his muzzle into her cleavage while she sat on him and pet her Master. “I don't know everything that you need," she admitted. “I don't really need to. But I can give you something else." So she started working his shirt free of his skirt.
“River Blossom, I don't think this is the right time," he sighed, pulling free from her breasts to look up at her.
She thumped a finger across his muzzle. “You have been working all day and you've barely taken a break to drink or eat anything, and you've been holding that chisel for the whole of the night. Do you know how long ago the sun went down?"
“No," he admitted, wrinkling his nose at the touch that almost made him sneeze with how it rattled his sinus cavities. Maybe the whole species had that tap calibrated just right, but no one else had ever dared to do that to him.
“It is closer to sunrise than sunset," she said as she tossed his shirt into the corner, and her own joined it. “Now if you want to actually accomplish anything, you're going to need to rest, and remove all of those thoughts from your mind. And while you may not think it's all that needed, you have a loving little slave girl who hasn't felt her Master's hands on her since the Baron showed up." She leaned down to brush her lips against his, and kissed him, holding his cheeks until she felt him relax into that touch. “Now remind me of that term you said was so common on your old world. I like it."
As much as he wanted to growl at her for the terms, she'd made a point of using them, and she was wearing him down. It was a kind of exposure therapy that he wasn't sure that he liked. But he also couldn't argue that he was doing things that she didn't want.
Cupping her butt, brushing his thumb along her tail base, he kissed her harder, and longer, taking the time to savor her taste, and the way that her hips wiggled as her tail led the motion of her excitement and happiness at being in her Master's arms. Slowly, he played his hands up her body, fondling her breasts, caressing them and enjoying the way that she whimpered and gasped into his touches.
Her own hands had been anything but idle, and she had pushed the hem of his skirt up to expose his excitement. Whatever else her Master's mouth and mind said, she knew that at least his body was honest, and she wouldn't deny him that, ever. River Blossom hadn't been 'unspoiled' when she'd been taken by Master. That sort of thing was never valued by the lower classes. But she hadn't been with more than a few males, and she was still very much learning how much she needed and wanted certain things. The fact that she was getting to train her Master made her giggle. It's not that he was a bad lover. It was simply that he hadn't quite accepted everything that made her adore him.
She lifted her hips up and tucked him between her legs, dropping down slowly enough to make him moan, and her shiver. She loved how smooth he was. How hard. How utterly unyielding and powerful. She very nearly let out a yip as he spread her open and filled her completely. The gods must truly favor her for some unknown reason to give her a Master as good as this.
They rocked and played, her finally forcing him to take his mind off of anything besides her curves and her enthusiasm, and him reluctantly following along until he got lost and stayed to savor the delights he'd found himself among. He wasn't any kind of a lover that she'd ever had before. He was tender and sweet. He never really bit her. Not even when he was in the heat of passion and she was in front of him. He'd never bit down on her scruff. Autumn Leaf had whispered that she did everything in her power to get Timber Hauler to do that in a moment of what Master called 'girl talk'.
He did seem to enjoy her neck and throat, though, constantly kissing and licking at it and her cheeks while he was on top of her or within. And in it's way, that was every last bit as delicious. Not quite as intense, but far more loving. She could feel his hands, cupping and groping at her as she rocked in his lap, strong grip keeping her close as they savored each other's touch.
River Blossom tilted her head back, exposing herself to him, and he took advantage just like she wanted him to. Lips on her breasts, teeth playing at her nipples while his lips surrounded them and worried at the sensitive flesh, she trembled in his grip, and felt her peak with a drive down onto his base. Shuddering as she held there, panting, she moaned softly without words as she groomed his ears. If Master thought that this was only for his benefit, that should convince him otherwise!
For his part, Trevor slid his hands all over her frame, and every touch made her gasp, and every gasp made him want to tear another from her. Of course he had other things on his mind that he had to do, but his River Blossom was in his lap and arms, and on some levels, he worried that he was getting addicted to her. She tasted good, smelled better, and felt even better than that tucked up against his chest.
He felt her curves as she flexed her legs, rising and falling on his erection without any shame in the world. He felt her claws brushing through his scalp and fur as they pressed into each other's bodies.
She started making those sounds that he was learning to understand, the keening whine in the back of her throat. Her thighs clenched around his waist, and she felt his knees brushing up against the underside of her tail as she tried to drive him up into her fully. No one else was going to take care of her Master, let alone himself.
He gasped her name, arms squeezing her close against him, then buried his face into her chest with a groan as she let out her own yelp of release. He knew that she wouldn't be pulling away for a long while. As always when she was the one pushing for their mutual release, she had driven his knot into her body and locked it inside, forcing him to take a break. Because while he probably could reach around her and peek over her shoulder at his writing, even he wasn't that heartless to deny her what she wanted.
Flexing his legs, he stood shakily, making her giggle as he carried her to their pile of blankets. She kissed him several times as he lay down on top of her and then rolled onto his back so that she cuddled into his chest.
“You know, you don't have to always let me be on top, Trevor," she said.
“I'll crush you if I pass out on top of you," he mumbled sleepily.
“I'm tougher than you think," she teased, poking him in the ribs with a finger.
“Maybe but I don't want to risk losing you due to me being an idiot," he said, trailing off into a massive tongue-curling yawn.
River Blossom trailed her finger around on his chest, doodling in the fur there. She would have to wash their skirts tomorrow, probably before he got up, and make sure they were dried by the fire so that he wouldn't put on wet clothing when he got out of his bath. “So tell me what you're stuck on," she murmured.
“I can't," he growled. “There isn't a word for it."
She nipped at his chest, making him flinch.
He rubbed his hand over the tender spot, “Ow, what was that for?"
“For getting so far down the wrong trail that you don't even remember what you're chasing. You know of a way to make iron out of rust. Tell me. Imagine that you can't do anything on your own and you have to tell me what to do. The first thing is…"
Trevor sighed. There was no way that she would understand the chemistry of it. He barely understood the chemistry of it. But she was trying to help. And sometimes a new perspective was needed. “So you need a… a tub. It has to… uh… It has to be made out of something… uh…" he couldn't say 'non-conductive', that wouldn't tell her anything. “Something like pottery or wood. Pottery would be the best for right now."
She mimed picking something up and putting it down. “I have my pottery."
Cupping her butt, simply because it was a convenient place to rest his hand, he took a deep breath and continued. “Fill it with water, and a lot of wood ash. Stir it every few hands of moments with a stick."
She 'poured' the water in, and then stirred. “I have my… ash… water."
He thumped his head down on the blankets. “Take two copper rods, and put them in on opposite sides of the pottery." He pointed. “One here, one here."
She looked up at him. “There are a lot of strange things going in my tub. But alright, copper rods." She pushed them into the imaginary vessel. “Now what?"
He sighed. “This is the part that I'm stuck at. I need a very powerful grgg. A… a lodestone. A very, VERY powerful one. I need one so powerful that if you held iron over it, it would jump up off the ground and cling to the iron."
She thought about that. “So what does this do?"
He did his best to explain the idea of a generator to her, of spinning copper next to a magnet. But he couldn't say 'electricity' or 'current' or even 'generator'. He finally was able to say, “It makes a special kind of magic that will pull the iron out of the water." He felt so utterly ashamed to have used 'magic' in an explanation of something as scientifically proven and demonstrable as electromagnetism. Faraday would be rolling over in his grave right now, not to mention Tesla and Franklin.
“So why not use magic?"
He was about to dismiss it out of hand, but then froze. “You… you have magic," he whispered.
She shook her head, “Not I, Master," she assured him.
He grabbed her head and pulled her to look at him. “Where I come from, there is no magic, just stories about what magic could do. Can your mages use grrRRRRg? Fuck! Grrr. GrrRRrgrr… lightning. Lightning! Can your mages do things that involve lightning?"
She shrugged, “Perhaps? I do not know anything about that."
He laughed, and then kissed her. “You may pull my ears the next time that I growl at you for asking me a question or telling me to slow down. You, my brilliant little wonderful girl, you just solved the problem." He almost arched his head to bellow for Timber Hauler, until she covered his muzzle.
“Master, it's between midnight and sunrise!"
“Oh."
This story is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to any characters, living, dead or imaginary is purely a coincidence. All characters are a product of the author's imagination and copyright to them, unless noted guest appearances of other copyrighted characters are listed in this notice. Comments may be left (and are encouraged!) on the author's FurAffinity page. If you liked this story, and wish to support the author, please visit their Patreon.
This story is a work of fiction. Any immoral acts included in this story are a fantasy and should not be taken as encouragement to perform or endorsement of these acts by the author. Specifically, because apparently it needs to be said; anything other than expressed consent for any sexual encounter by a legal unimpaired sentient adult is wrong, immoral, and evil. Unwilling subjugation of sentients who have committed no crime is wrong, immoral, and evil.