Unbound

Unbound

Adrew Mali

Author: Adrew Mali

Coverdesign: Calipygos

Twitter: @AdrewMali

© Adrew Mali / Calipygos

Acknowledgments

Though writing a book is often done by one person, producing a book certainly isn't. It's safe to say that this story never would have been published without the help of a certain set of people.

First of all I want to extend my thanks to Leah Gibbons, who read through this book on multiple occasions, offered me feedback along the way, and performed the final spelling and grammar check. I also want to thank Pepijn van Loon and Roderick Leeuwenhart for reading through a specially prepared snippet of Unbound in the latter half of 2018. I also cannot thank Roderick enough for offering me guidance along the path of a beginning writer, giving me helpful advice, tips, tricks, and more at every turn. Someone who's also deserving of a special thanks is Douglas Pluylaar, since he was willing to listen to me reading most of the novel out loud as part of the editing process.

Finally I want to offer my deepest, most heartfelt gratitude to the person without whom this book would never have been written: Calipygos. Not only did she draw the beautiful cover, but she graciously lent me some of her own characters for this adventure. Originally, this book was written as a present for her, so it's safe to say that creating this novel was a labor of love.

Chapter 1

The Lady of the Tavern

Gertrude had been working at the tavern called The Tight Shorts for over 50 years. She had started as a barmaid long ago. Back then it had been nothing more than a seedy little drinking den at the outskirts of Draffelrig, frequented by smugglers, streetrats and other miscreants. She remembered that time fondly. Oh Gertrude'd fit right in, especially since her whole reason for working there had been to steal the booze after her shift was over. Unfortunately for her, the leering eyes of the hunched-over little gremlin of an owner had somehow always been there when she was about to make a go for her target.

At the time she had thought it insufferable, and she refused to quit her job before getting her prize. Not because she wanted that booze so badly, – she could have just bought it with her earnings – but because it had turned into a matter of pride.

Gertrude sighed as she leaned against the bar. Those had been the days.

In the end, she'd never been able to do it. The old gremlin hadn't always been there, of course, but if it wasn't him it was his wife or one of the many bozos that served as the gremlin's hired muscle.

And then, after more than ten years, he had died. The nerve of him, dying so Gertrude could never be victorious. Out of pure spite, and maybe more than a little bit of love, she had honored his last wish and become the new proprietress of the tavern.

By then things were already changing. Draffelrig was expanding despite its secluded location at the center of the biggest forest in the world, and what was once the outskirts of town slowly became the center. The tavern and its clientèle changed. When Gertrude took over, the pickpockets and cutthroats were already replaced by farmers and smalltime traders, and now, after more and more years had gone by, Gertrude found she owned a thriving pub in the center of town.

Some days she missed the rowdiness of the past, but really, she was glad that things had developed the way they had. She regarded herself as a tough old bitch, but managing a tavern in the seedy parts of town was simply too much work. It would have meant a part of her always needed to be on edge, keeping an eye on clients and employees alike.

Since the Tight Shorts was actually reputable these days, she could relax a little. Her employees were not going to steal from her. Not only because Gertrude had a keen intuition when it came to people and only hired who she trusted, she could also afford to pay them so much they wouldn't ever need to steal anything.

She didn't need to fear anything from her clients either. Only a complete lunatic would try to pull off a robbery in the center of town. The constabulary would have a field day with such an idiot.

Speaking of the clientèle, it was lot more varied than in the starting days. Students, couples, businessmen, the tavern catered to all of them. Gertrude found it important to uphold its reputation as open and accessible to everyone. She scoffed at those exclusive little clubs that most of her fellow tavern-owners in the city center wanted their places to be.

Only having one kind of client would bore Gertrude too much. She liked diversity, she liked seeing people from completely different walks of life meet and share a drink. She thought a lot of trouble in the world could be prevented if people mixed more often, instead of just sticking to their own little worlds.

She loved seeing guardsmen play a round of dice with the local students, she loved seeing rich merchants and humble farmers discuss the pros and cons of eating hot soup in summer.

Even Prince Mo came to this tavern. Oh he always used 'disguise' of course, but really, there was nothing he could do to hide that lion's mane of a hairdo or that mischievous glint in his eyes.

Gertrude smiled as she thought of his most recent visit. He had been on a date with a young soldier. Mo had tried his best to be all dashing and cool, but the moment that soldier boy walked through the tavern doors, the regal prince Mo had turned into a stammering puddle of awkward nerves. It'd been adorable, and one look into the soldiers eyes had told Gertrude that he shared that opinion.

While reminiscing about that beautiful afternoon, Getrude heard the doors of the tavern swing back and forth, and she looked up.

Walking into the establishment was one of her favorite customers, stylish young man with mint-green hair and a cocky expression. Griffin Fox. He was technically a philosophy student at the Draffelrig Grand Academy, but Gertrude didn't think that he really was that diligent when it came to his studies. He seemed like the kind of person who was purely there to have fun, so naturally Gertrude liked him. She had never gotten a fancy pants education, after all, and everything had turned out fine for her.

When Griffin walked up to the bar, Gertrude immediately noticed that there was something amiss. She wouldn't have noticed it if she didn't know the boy so well. He was still wearing a flashy, too-tight outfit, his piercings were all in place, and as always, his hair was shiny and immaculate.

No, what was missing was that cocky spark in his eyes.

Hi Ger, would you mind giving me a cup of tea, preferably something with chamomile or lavender in it, Griffin asked as he sat down on a bar stool.

Gertrude raised an eyebrow. The sun was already setting, its orange rays cozily flowing through the tavern's windows, and Griffin ordered tea. No whiskey, no vodka, no wine, not even a beer. Tea. And not even strong tea! Chamomile and lavender were known for their mild and calming nature.

Alright, but after I get you that tea, you better tell me what's wrong, little gerbil.

Griffin just nodded without offering any kind of snarky reply. Gertrude really was getting worried.

Mind the tavern, Nancy! She yelled at one of her maids when she disappeared into one of the tavern's back rooms. She took a couple of minutes to brew a fine pot of tea, and when it was done she broke off a piece of honey-glazed chocolate to serve with it.

When she returned to the front of the house, she noticed the place slowly starting to fill up. Dinner rush was still a couple of hours off, but at this time of day most classes at the Academy would already be over, meaning that students were going to flock to this place in droves to share the latest gossip and whatnot over a nice tankard of ale. Gertrude always enjoyed this time of the day, especially because she got to find out what kind of ridiculous shit the kids were into nowadays.

Gertrude put the tea and the honey-glazed chocolate in front of Griffin, who was staring down at the bar, as if the worn-out and scarred wood held some kind of great secret.

So honey, tell me what's on your mind.

Griffin started just a little bit when Gertrude spoke to him, and before he answered he took the cup of tea and sipped from it. Oh boy, he really is out of it. He glanced around, probably to ensure that nobody was listening in.

So... he started, I better tell you the whole story. It all started three weeks ago. A new student joined our class in the middle of the semester. That is a little strange, I know, but when we found out who he was, it made a lot more sense.

Griffin took a deep breath and had a couple more sips of his tea. Gertrude just waited till he was ready to say more. From the look in his eyes, he was still sorting through things himself.

The new student was the son of Lord Snowdrop, he continued.

Ah yes, Lord Sylph, head of one of Draffelrig's oldest and most influential noble families. In power and influence it was only matched by the royal family itself. The latest gossip had it that both families were in a bit of an internal uproar. Prince Mo, though kindhearted and charismatic, didn't live up to his father's expectations. He wasn't ready to be king, and he refused to let himself be married off. Gertrude knew exactly why he didn't want to, but since Mo was an only child... things might become a little bit complicated if things dragged on.

On the other hand there were Lord Sylph Snowdrop and his son. Faäf too, was an only child, yet far more reclusive than his counterpart. Whether that was because Faäf preferred to stay inside or because Lord Sylph chose to hide him from the world was a matter of debate.

A lot of rumors about that boy had echoed through the tavern's taproom, so Gertrude couldn't tell exactly what his deal was. The only thing she knew was that Sylph regarded his son unfit to be heir to House Snowdrop. Maybe the man hoped to change that by sending Faäf to the Academy, but that theory was more rickety than Gertude's hips. Being enrolled at the academy wouldn't suddenly make him fit to take charge of his House, especially if he only took the philosophy course. She was intrigued.

Faäf is his name, Griffin said, and when that name crossed his lips, his eyes softened and Gertrude immediately knew what was going on.

He's.... he's fucking beautiful. Griffin could be very blunt and honest from time to time, a quality that Gertrude appreciated. He didn't even hesitate admitting he thought another man was beautiful, a statement that would turn heads in all but the most open-minded places. Fortunately for the green-haired youth, The Tight Shorts was a safe zone. This was a place for people of all walks of life, no matter how groundbreaking and unorthodox those were considered to be.

And he was assigned a seat next to me! Griffin exclaimed. His eyes took on a kind of fiery quality. So of course, I try to play it cool, because, you know, I am really cool, but somehow when that guy sat down and looked at me with those big beautiful oceans of eyes, I lost the ability to speak. Yes, he is that beautiful. And I don't mean hot, I mean beautiful. Not that he isn't also hot, but using that word for him seems... wrong. Like, I cannot describe it, but really, Griffin, now blazing with the fires of passion, took a big bite of chocolate and immediately continued speaking, I have never seen someone or something quite like him before.

Seeing that passion, Gertrude couldn't do anything but smile.

So, if he's so beautiful as you describe, what's got ya all bothered then? Are you afraid that his dad will find out if you try something with him? Is he not into men? What's the problem? Gertrude asked.

I... I don't know anything about him. For three weeks I've sat next to him, but during that time I've found out almost nothing. He is a complete enigma. I didn't want to ask about his home all too much because, yeah, his dad really scares the crap out of me, but when I try to find out more about Faäf himself, it's like trying to catch smoke with my bare hands. He never responds to my questions with more than the most superficial, literal answers imaginable, and that is if I am lucky enough to even get a response at all. A lot of times he just stares at me as if I speak an entirely different language.

Griffin let out a deep sigh, and Gertrude thought he could use something stronger than tea. So she reached underneath the bar and took out an unmarked bottle filled with amber-colored liquid.

Gertrude pointed at the bottle and raised an eyebrow. Griffin looked up at it, sighed again and then nodded. She poured him a shot, which he threw down his throat without flinching. Griffin had a whole lot of experience with swallowing things.

He's always writing in that notebook of his, Griffin continued while Gertrude poured him another shot. It's a really worn-out thing, probably because he, like, has it with him all the time. I've never seen him without it. Of course, like any person would do, I tried to take a peek, but his handwriting is so small I really can't tell what's in there. So after that attempt I asked him what he used that book for, but he wouldn't tell me. He just said: It is my notebook, I write in it.

Griffin downed the second shot and cupped his head in the palms of his hands.

Like... when I asked what he was writing in that book, he actually just said: Words. How am I supposed to react to that?!

Hmm.... this Faäf really sounded like a curious fellow. Not the kind of person who would come to her tavern, or any tavern at all, out of his own initiative.

He sounds... interesting, Gertrude said. Do you think you could get him to come here?

Griffin looked up at her, his eyes taking on a pensive, calculating gaze.

Maybe. Do I want to?

Of course you want to, whippersnapper! I don't wanna brag, but this is the ideal spot for a date!

Griffin's jaw dropped. A.... date?!

Gertrude wanted to rub her temples but refrained from the impulse. Griffin was one of those kinds of people who managed to be incredibly smart and incredibly stupid at the same time.

Yes, a date. That's what you want, don't you?

Griffin blinked, his pale cheeks getting slightly rosy as he glanced around. Gertrude shook her head woefully. Really, sometimes that boy was a disaster. He'd bedded many a guy and girl without batting an eyelash, but actually going on a date with someone made him all flustered. Youth these days, sometimes they were just so very strange.

Griffin turned his gaze back towards Gertrude again.

I... yes, fine, that's what I want.

You spent the last 10 minutes ranting about how beautiful and unattainable he was, it was very obvious.

Griffin's blush increased, to Gertrude's amusement.

I don't think getting him to come here is going to be very easy, though, Griffin said. Not only is it almost impossible to engage him into any kind of conversation, he's also picked up by a Snowdrop carriage each day when classes are over.

Gertrude stroked her chin. It wasn't in her blood to dip her toes into the toxic waters of politics, but she couldn't help but think that something was amiss. The royal family was in turmoil, and something was definitely going on within the Snowdrop ranks too. Just Faäf going to the academy was weak evidence for that, but Gertrude had a gut feeling and over the years she'd learned to trust that.

Politics or not, Gertrude cared about Griffin just as much as she cared about prince Mo, and she would go to far lengths to ensure those kids' happiness. After all, she was far too old to care about who she rubbed the wrong way in the process. She served, nor feared her king and country.

Hmm, I see how that can be a problem, but don't worry about a thing, my little green gerbil, auntie Gertrude is here to back you up. Griffin looked slightly concerned at that, but Gertrude chose to ignore it. I need to call in some favors, but I can promise you that that carriage problem is taken care of the day after tomorrow. Just make sure that you get him to come here that day.

Griffin blinked.

Wait, are you actually going to mess with the Snowdrop family just for me?

Gertrude took a little too much pleasure in the wolfish smile she could display in response to Griffin's question.

Of course, whippersnapper! Powerful families don't scare me, I am Gertrude, and I am unstoppable!

She actually shouted that last part, turning quite a few heads from clients and employees alike. Gertrude answered those looks with the same wolfish grin she'd given Griffin just a couple of seconds ago.

Chapter 2

Gentle Snowdrop

Griffin spent the day after the conversation with Gertrude as a bundle of nerves. He was in one of the Academy's grand lecture halls, a large room with rows of benches placed in tiers which lead down to a raised area containing a lectern. When he noticed his hand shaking ever so slightly, he realized that for once it wasn't because of the amount of coffee he'd thrown into his throathole that morning.

Of course it was because of Faäf, who sat next to him again. Griffin had resigned himself to the fate that his obsession with the enigmatic nobleman would be a one-sided affair leading to nothing but an aching heart for him. He didn't know how his attraction towards Faäf could have blown up so intensely in such a short amount of time, especially since the interactions between the two of them had been quite superficial. Yet, just as in all the books and plays, love had a will of its own. There was just something about Faäf that drove Griffin's lonely heart mad with desire. It wasn't the kind of desire that made him want to tear Faäf's clothes off, but the kind of desire that made him want to wrap his arms around Faäf and just protect him from... yeah, from what, exactly?

Griffin didn't know why, but he thought that Faäf was in peril somehow. His eyes, beautiful like seas and gemstones and all the stars in the sky, were filled with a kind of lonely sadness.

Ugh, that was a horribly melodramatic, emo thought. He was glad that nobody could look into his head and see what he was thinking. Well technically, there were magicians that could do that, but mind-related magic was strictly prohibited. People could even be sentenced to death if they were caught doing it, depending on the severity of the damage they caused.

Mr Fox, do I need to repeat my question?

The heavy, baritone voice of professor McGeeny burst into his thoughts like a battering ram. Oh indeed, right, he was in the middle of a lecture. Griffin wasn't what could be called 'a good student' but usually at least he had the presence of mind to pay enough attention so he wouldn't be caught with his pants down like this.

Uhm, well actually, if you would be so kind.

Griffin sat too high-up to see it, but he could just feel professor McGeeny roll his eyes.

If you're not going to pay attention, then why are you here, mister Fox?

Despite his inner turmoil, Griffin could only take this as a direct provocation and act accordingly. He got up and folded his arms behind his back. The sound of his chair scraping along the wooden floor was deafening in the silent lecture hall.

But sir, could you say that any of us is really here? Our bodies are here, but what of our true selves? Who says that any of our true selves are actually here? To dive into that we would need to figure out the nature of 'the True Self' and how that relates to the location of our body, taking into account that for you it isn't even determinable if my body is actually here, according to some of the great thinkers that we base our theories on at least. Besides... Griffin went on for roughly five minutes, spewing all the nonsensical philosophical bullshit he could think of. He was a philosophy major after all. Not because he was particularly interested in the subject matter, but because when he had to pick his major Philosophy seemed to be the easiest one.

After his speech he was gently yet firmly requested to leave the lecture hall.

The day after was D-day. Fortunately there were no lectures planned. The students were left to their own devices and most of them had opted to occupy the library, scrambling frantically to gather as many dusty old books to back up the research papers that were due next week. If he hadn't been so damn nervous he would have found it amusing. The Academy's stance on things was 'the more sources a paper had, the better it was.' Griffin could understand that being true on things like Medicine and Magical Theory, but why that also applied to Philosophy Griffin couldn't grasp. He would have thought that the Philosophy course at least stimulated thinking about things yourself instead of simply copying the thoughts of old men long dead.

Oh well, he wasn't here to change the system, he was here just to pass. At least, usually he was, right now there wasn't much room in his mind for anything other than Faäf. The young nobleman was a creature of beauty, tall, slender, and enigmatic like a fairytale prince. His wavy hair was like spun gold and his big eyes were the kind of green that resembled the forest after a rainstorm.

The young noble sat right across from Griffin at one of the big tables that were strewn throughout the library. They weren't the only ones at that table, it was very rare to find one empty since they could fit at least a score of people each, but nobody bothered each other. Within the grand halls of the