Chapter Twenty-Six
Ghreid
Falustus paced around a cavernous room, face twisted into a needless sneer. “A church? Really, Brother?”
“The fates spoke to Varis.” Ghreid shrugged. “Also, you’ve always wanted to desecrate a church.”
“But like, a real church—” Falustus gestured about, pointing at the stained glass image of an old robed man with hands raised and golden light raining down upon him. “It’s literally an effigy of a dung lord being pissed upon!”
“Those are the rays of godly light, sir.” A meek young male raised a hand and cleared his throat, face a mask of blush so fierce it made him favor a tomato.
“And that just makes it worse. It’s boring!
” Falustus sighed heavily and grabbed the male, barely an adult by the looks of him, by his hand and strode around upturned and broken pews.
“An assembly room of some sort. What is the purpose of this room? Seems like it would be an expensive waste to heat. Perhaps this is why the place is upturned, Lurid.”
“You don’t heat it, sir. People tend to bring their own pan warmer. And it’s Lurin, sir.” He sighed with all the exasperation of someone that would never be listened to.
“That’s what I said. And heat pans?” Falustus sighed, dragging the poor lad off behind him.
His shaggy mop of hair hung over his face, half covering his eyes with twisted brown locks catching the odd flicker of dust-laden light at just the right angle to reflect odd colors from stained glass.
In the right strip, he was quite cute, but in others, he was only as he appeared, a trampled and abandoned friar to a religion that no longer existed in that land.
Lurin stumbled, freckled hand clenching back against Lust’s firm grip.
The stink of humans floated around the vestibule and halls in a malingering sort of way.
Body odor, soil, excreta… Ghreid fished into his breast pocket to draw out his embroidered handkerchief to hold up to his nose.
As they passed through the boarding hall, where clergy housed themselves when the place still operated as a church, a distinct scent of stale sex hung in the air, that of men alone.
“For a religion that forbade homosexuality, they sure did engage in same-sex relations quite often.”
Lurin choked and cleared his throat. “Th-there were—not permitted wives. Women are—distractions. I just—I haven’t.”
Falustus gave the skinny boy a second glance and frowned. “Virginity is a pesky thing. Rid yourself of it. Like a disease. It’ll spread, and that’s how religion happens.”
As Lurin registered what Falustus said, his face cycled through a myriad of emotions that ended with dejected resignation. “Religion has happened.”
“And you’re a virgin.” Falustus sighed heavily. “I’d have to be subjected to the repetitive missives and lifetime of servitude only to be denied my truest pleasure.”
“P-prayer can be it’s own pleasure.” Lurin followed, his worn robes hanging limply over his body, sleeves too long for his form, as if handed down to him from several acolytes before. His pale, chapped fingers fidgeted over the fraying hems.
“The only prayer Falustus knows is, Oh gods, yes, yes!” Ghreid snorted, and Lust turned, brow furrowed.
“I don’t sound like that when I fuck.” Lust gave Ghreid a quick up and down glance, upper lip curled incredulously.
“Would be awkward if I did.” Ghreid returned the sneer and strode away from his brother, inspecting cracking mortar in the walls. He made a mental note to have the mason and apprentices out that way soon. “Nobody wants to hear that.”
Lust’s erratic steps stopped, the clattering of footfalls of the simpering acolyte stumbling to a halt behind him. “Truly? Lurin does.”
A wretched sound tore free of the boy, somewhere between a squeak and a choke.
Ghreid huffed and forged ahead. “The structural integrity of the place is intact, but there’s so much upkeep that needs to be done.”
“We haven’t had funding from the—” Lurin cowered when Ghreid glanced over. “I’ve not seen funding…”
“Your superiors, which have been sent away and did not see fit to take you, had plenty of money. They chose not to.” Ghreid kicked at a flagstone, the plate of it wobbling. “I’ll send the mason sooner.”
“Nobody has discussed with me as to who will be paying for all this?” Falustus turned on his heel, and Ghreid waved him off.
“I’ll front the cost of it. The building will be on indefinite lease as property of the kingdom.
Ashen and attendants trained will be financed by dragons and we can negotiate from there.
” Ghreid sighed. “Money is already flowing in quite nicely and we’ve only half the beaches cleaned and 10 percent of the ports operational. ”
“Excellent. I’ve not the skill for money you have, but that’s never been my calling.” Lust ducked into what appeared to be a study and glanced around. “How many copies of the missives of Baltheir does one place need?”
“One for every stu—” Lurin started but faltered when Lust continued on.
“None? Wonderful. I’ll see them burned.” He kept walking and the poor lad sagged.
“Do answer me this, why is the acolyte still here?” Ghreid stared at the crestfallen boy.
“Oh. When you ordered the priests out, they left him behind as a caretaker for the building as his family hadn’t been financing him.” Lust gave the boy a second glance.
“They abandoned me.” Lurin sank in on himself.
“Anyway, I pity him and he amuses me. He may stay. I’ll make an agnostic of him yet.” Lust hand waved the matter on, and Ghreid pondered offering the boy an apprenticeship somewhere, or even sending him back to his family, but that seemed wrong. He had to trust Falustus knew what he was doing.
Ghreid glanced back toward his brother who sat poking a very pert and hyperdetailed nipple on an otherwise unremarkable statue. On second thought. “I could take the boy off your hands. Find an apprenticeship.”
“I wish to stay here for when they send for me. I promised I wouldn’t leave.
Please.” Lurin’s pleading eyes broke something in Ghreid’s heart.
A memory flashed of a lonely man wasting away on a grounded, barnacle-laden ship, guarding a casket he believed would save him. The temple was his ship, sinking or no.
“He’s harmless. Maybe if he sticks around, he’ll lose the piety.” Falustus strode purposefully into another wing and sneered out a dingy window. “Or gain some…”
Ghreid followed his gaze, adjusting to the outside light filtering in through the rippled, bubble-laden glass. A giant statue stood in the center of a neglected garden, another statue dedicated to Baltheir, this one naked, and far too detailed. Also, unimpressive.
Lust, face twisted, angled his head slightly. “Why, in fate’s sake, is his member so small?”
Ghreid feared he’d gain his first wrinkle with how tightly his lips pursed and jaw ticked. “Perhaps it’s the way the window is curved?”
Falustus reached up to fiddle with a latch and swung the window inward to stare out. His face twisted further in disgust. “No. Decidedly not.”
Outside air, much cleaner than it had been but laden with mildew and moss, blew back at them. The damp air lacked a lot of the salt that it did closer to shore, but it still lingered. “Why on earth would they make a man that small?”
“It’s… Ahem. It’s a sign of—” Lurin muttered something that didn’t quite make sense to Ghreid.
“Excuse me?” Lust glanced over his shoulder.
“Large phalluses are said to be a sign of inferior intelligence and brutish violence.” Lurin’s shoulders pinched.
“One wonders how smart you are.” Lust glanced the boy up and down and earned a squeak of protest.
“If that’s intelligence, then I am thrilled to announce my stupidity and brutish nature to the world.” Lust sniffed in amusement. “Ghreid?”
Ghreid shrugged. “Answering that question either way has implications that I will happily say I do not fit the stereotype of.”
“Th-that answer.” Lurin cleared his throat.
“Hmm. Remains to be seen.” Falustus waved a hand dismissively and sauntered off, inspecting room after room with growing disappointment.
Ghreid followed, and as disappointed as Falustus was, Ghreid was equally amused.
“Where are your sacramental baths?” Lust wheeled on a heel, magenta flashing in his eyes.
His silken tunic, cropped beneath his rib cage, clung to his skin, revealing inches of bronzed flesh, tinted slightly with a light freckling of his dark, dark-red’s scale color.
White fangs flashed as silence, all but for the whisper of a breeze in the rafters, stretched on.
“Orgy?” Ghreid raised a brow.
“No!” Lurin rushed forward, digging white-knuckled fingers into the hem of his shirt.
Lust stared the boy down and lifted his hands, hesitating for a moment before running long, thin nails through his hair.
Just the touch seemed to soothe the boy as he pulled back with a flinch.
A complicated expression twisted Lust’s face, disgust turned into pity.
The pity turned into something kind. “Of course not. This building is yours in ways, and I’ll respect it up to a point. ”
Lurin balled his fists to himself, cheeks aflame with flush.
“But you will remember that I am a dragon. I am an embodiment of sexuality, and I am master of this domain. You will respect my station and my authority, and I will respect your humanity.” Lust tapped the boy’s nose.
“But this is Baltheir’s house.” Lurin flinched, as if waiting for a strike.
Ghreid and Falustus glanced at one another uncertainly. Lust spoke first. “It was, but we’re moving on from that.”
“Are you certain he should still remain here?” Ghreid glanced toward the boy as a visible shudder ran through his thin frame. Lust would break the poor boy.
“Very.” Lust stared at the boy again, that complicated expression twisting. “He’s not ashen, but there’s something.”
Ghreid pursed his lips. “Don’t ruin him. And don’t get attached.”
“You, boy, are meant for something. I’ll figure it out.” Lust tapped his chin and whipped around, marching on to finish his inspection. “Now, on to those baths! We may use it as a birthing pool for your mate. He is a water dragon after all.”
Lust halted mid-step. “No. Scratch that. I can’t fuck where my niblings will be born.”
Ghreid shrugged. “We have our baths ready in case that’s what he needs. Even Graylan isn’t certain. Speaking of, I need to go back home. The moon comes soon.”
Falustus leaned over and glanced out one of the many tall windows and squinted up. “A day or two. Take your time. I’m sure Varis is tired of being flitted about.”
“He loves being doted on.” Ghreid glared at Lust, who flattened his expression.
“No, Brother. All he wants is sex, food, and to be left alone. You’re doing two of those for him very well.” Lust put his hands on his hips. “That reminds me. I need soundproofing in my bedchambers.”
At that moment, Ghreid wondered if he should, too. If not for his brothers’ sensitive ears, his impending children.
“I’m already traumatized enough from Mother and Father.” Falustus muttered under his breath something about padded tapestries, and Ghreid took that as a signal to leave.
He needed a word with staff and Rydel post haste.