Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 {Author's note: Assume this is cleaned up from Very old English letters to
a correspondent.  However, with Germanic idioms, like compoundWords (Noun
capitalized) mitt sie occasional und.  English as a second language.  Also,
skipping quite a few "Filler" chapters, like the ones on packing in the
"Good Parts Version" of the Princess Bride.  Since this is an Erotic site,
I'm just not going to write those parts, you're welcome.  So, for the
purpose of this story,
   ;
   between excerpts is basically NS stuff you don't want to read, and I
don't want to write.  A bit of a security device, her father probably
wouldn't approve of her writing about sex, but can't be bothered to read
All of her mail, in Engelisch.  So, some boring girl stuff was added at the
beginning to bore him so he loses interest.
   I'm just going to throw in Das Ich - Kain und Abel (Die Propheten) to
listen to, while I write...}
   ;
   Yarla, (G2F Tran.  Kommen von alters)
   I am supposed to be "Resting up," for the summer trip.  To the
Interlaken area, this year.  My father fancies himself a bit of a seeMann,
but so landlocked, he settles for playing out his games on the Lakes in
summer.  Usually the NeufzatelSee, {Lac de Neuchatel, canton of Vaud
annexed by Bern, and renamed by sie Germans.  If you want to look it up,
nowhere near the interLaken area.} but he heard about a possible summer
home in Insteltwald.
   However, given the time, and privacy, I am able to forgo clothing, in my
favorite spot by the window.  The men are practicing, drilling for defense
while we are away, or suffering his inspection for the trip.  As you know
my favorite entertainment, yet rarely have I the opportunity for this, and
must settle for the memory.  I have my sternGlas so it is as if I am there,
watching from just above, though I can not hear their grunts, smell their
sweat, even the ring of their steel cannot reach me.
   You are still my only friend, who ist willing to talk about this.  The
pleasure to be had, alone, denied as I am by my father.  I am thirteen,
have been bleeding for 3 full years, and it was nearly a century and a half
since the time of Christ all ready.  Yet he denies me all suitors.  His men
won't speak to me, much less touch me, and you know how he feels about my
fighting.  Oh, but just to watch them fight!
   What we need is a good War, to give the men something to do other than
practice.  That is why my father is bored, and plays his naval games, he
remembers the Burgundy War.  The Navy is supposed to be the new power in
warfare, to hear him tell it, for all he knows about sailing, and fighting
at see.
   I found a candle taper works the best.  Also, the point where it meets
you have shown me, the slickness of the taper allows me to preserve my
purity, and the finest beesWax is so much more pleasant than the tallow. 
Also, I have light to write, daylight though I can imagine the trouble at
being seen.  Like this, in the window, naked.  Shamelessly abusing myself,
then the men.  Stopping, standing at attention as their notice spreads.
   That did it.  All I needed, so I can return my attention to you.  How
are you, I find myself refreshed.  Envigourated, und excitened for the
trip. After this last time, to watch the men and truly enjoy it.  For once,
perhaps there will be men in Insteltwald, though it sounds dreadfully
small, and local.  Men who don't know my father, enough to fear him.  Me
well enough not to court me.  I just want a suitor, 1 suitor, I'm too old
not to know the attentions of a man.
   My courier shall have a map of the route from Thun to Bern, to return
your letters to me.  {Just Google it.} Ask to see it, as there shall be
days of delay from these extra legs.  A lakenBoot from Instelweldt to
Interlaken, then from Interlaken to Thun, then a carriage from
Thun-to-Bern, both ways as the courier cannot have a fast horse, and carry
it on the bootLegs.  (Bit of a pun here, see is sea, or lake, and boot is
boat.  seeBoot is seaboat, but German-to-English translation} It is said,
in fair summer skies to add 2 days, then the normal time to travel around
Paris to the channel, to avoid tension with the Burgundese.  Also a copy of
Justinger's history of Bern, as you have asked about in your last letter.
   With fondest memory,
   Milne Alberichen, dame Baronetess of Bern
   {Sealed with a wax impression of a Signet.  Basically officially stamped
by her household, after a cursory glance over by her father The Baron.  A
drawing of the basic design can be found by Albrecht Dürer for the Arms of
Lazarus Spengler.  Generally a Shield (of the Neibelung) or book, with half
the Fleur de Lis sinister, demi-rose dexter (symbolic of the
Merovingen/Hapsberg lines)
   If you're interested in the Historical context, Wiki Alberich
(Disambiguation).  Named after basically Merlin from the Merovingen fairy
tales about the first Baron Tremandis Melannui.  What they would call
"Elves." Her father is a veteran (Cavalry Officer) of the Battle of Nancy,
where he was when Milna was born.  Teutonic invaders of France, pushed back
by the Parisians to Switzerland in the Burgundian war for Alsace und
Lorraine.  The contested "SedutenLand" which was later a major area of
contention in the World Wars.
   Which never happen in this timeline due to outside intervention between
Morea, and Crete, which is still in the late Dark Ages in parallel to the
Early Renaissance here.  (Before coming together in The Morion) and results
in the eradication of the human race, along with All life on Earth by
Aliens.  So, alternative history, the divergent point recounted in the text
found buried in the mountain of shit from The Midden.  (\Parent
Directory/Horror)
   Long story short, Milna is not human, but the product of secret breeding
experiments which eventually (This generation) converge with the Hapsbergs,
after diverging to the Tepech (Transylvanian) and remarrying to the Bathori
(Petchet) Archduke (erzHerzogin) of Peschet.  AKA Habsberger emperors of
the Holy Roman Empire (Capital right across the river in Buden.) Any of
this she is aware of would be family secrets she wouldn't write about
regardless.  However, it also explains how she can skip the rank of Squire,
and fight fully trained Knights just from watching duels, and Liechtenauer
school sparring in the practice yard from her window.  She is not naturally
gifted with muscle memory, and superhuman speed.}
:
   Thun
   The carriage to Thun was battering, I feel beaten, and dragged over the
cobbles here, awaiting the lakenBoot at the dock.  My father insists on a
veritable armada for the household, and his small army to train in Navy
maneuvers en route, so he took the Flagship preperatory to playing his
seeGames.  A soldier in peacetime, I believe he sees them as Horses on the
water, where one need not bother with the variations of terrain.  It is
flat, and therefore ideal, he may simply use a table for the field, and his
toys.
   I am aware, it is serious business, but my brother the heir plays with
them, as toys.  He has a wooden sword, a dopplehander, I may use as a
proper sword as he is but 7.  Like our father, he would rather ride the
rocking horse, and bark orders, or play on the floor with his boats.  Men
are very much grown boys, with power.
   I am left with a guard, Rolph Bavard auf Bayern München, charged of
course with the protection of my virtue.  I suppose the best suitor being
Hirsch Balgen, der Jagermeister, I believe you would call a Huntsmann?  In
charge of the estate's game, leading the hunden, and the punishment of
poachers.  A good rider with the most advanced Arbalest I have seen.  I was
able to talk with him, about it.  Also a solid rider with tight leather
breeches worn smooth from the saddle, and a broad back.
   Unter sie ever watchful eye of Bavard, of course.  I was able to stand
close enough to smell him.  The strong sweat, and leather, with a tang of
blood.  From his namesake, I believe Deer Gutter is how it would be said in
your tongue.  As he says, "You must drain it, before bringing it to town,
lest the blood spoil on the way, and there is no need to carry the viscera,
which I leave for the wolves."
   Hunting is not fighting, and as any summer, my father will be away
playing at see.  So, I may arrange a trip, under guard into the ridges and
valleys overlooking these lakes.  It is not as sie NeufzatelSee, but
cliffs, with summer snow atop, and many steeps slopes deeply forested in
which to get lost, perhaps in the confusion of the hunt.  He has not the
hounds.  Hounds?  Is that hunden?  We have no Engelsprechen to ask, here
now.
   So, for my protection it may be safe to hunt with the men, and possibly
escape with a man, that Hirsch particularly.  Rolph is steadfast, and
vigilant, but given to excitement.  On the practice field, in fights he is
known for both his shieldwork, and his aggressive attack, even unto
over-extenzeon, with anger.  Anger?  You know what I mean thus, I hope he
will give into the excitement of the hunt to give chase.  Balgen is as an
officer, he commands the hunt, but without dogs, he may hang back as they
ride forward, and perhaps find a quiet place to lay down.
   He does like the look of me, as well.
   ;
   Lake Thun
   Bavard, it seems is jealous, and can be appealed to with Reason.  Having
seen me with Hirsch, he talked to me on the lakeBoat, and I returned that I
must protect myself, as well as my detail.  He knows of my wish to fight,
and has seen my reaction to it.  As I watch the men train, he watched me
watch them.  Nothing inflames my heart so as a duel, if not for my honor,
in my imaginings I can see them, instead of normal practice.
   So, he agreed, not to the sword, but I have a point.  The Italisch, call
it a Stilletto.  For eating, and he agreed that it is as a knife without
the point, to show me the basics of cutting a man after my virtue.  Safely
without an edge, but it is my first training, and I must say, I had not
thought there was so much use for the hilt.  As I have seen the men with
their Longswords?  The norse of your island, he says call it Claymore, they
grip it by the blade, up close, and batter eachother about with the hilt in
armor, however we are at peace.  Therefore, Armor is more something
considered for War.
   However it is the basis of the sword fight.  I have the pommel which is
pointed as well, for schlagen.  Striking with, or holding against a painful
point.  The wrist, or back of hand.  It seems Bavard has been to your
country, and does know the words, of weapons, and war.  If not the others,
as he was there as a soldier, not ambassador, he says you may remember him?
And that he appreciated the look of you.
   Back to practice, my pick has as well sie Quillon, bars at front and
back.  I had thought to protect the fingers, without an edge to slip up on,
however also to strike, catch at their blade, lock, and pry at their
fingers.  "Als mitt die schwert," it is as the sword yet smaller, so we may
spar privately.
   He is my fathers mann, but also I am his duty.  He is to keep me from
fighting, and yet protect me, and agreed that these are at odds.  He cannot
be with me, always, and I have this point which I knew not to use for my
own protection.  He also says I have a great natural talent, I am not sure
if this is polite, he is so polite, or truth.  I believe he may have let me
win, cuts to his arm as he avoided bloodless cuts with the back edge of his
Rondel.  His, Messer?  Panzerpictmesser.  Yes, armor knife, to stab between
armor, if they are wearing, but it has an edge, and guard more like a large
coin than quillons.  He says you have the rondel in Engelund, though you
may know not that is what it is called.
   This lakenBoot rocks and sways with the wind and waves from wind, he
says is good.  For the training, the men train on the open ground, the
practice field which is flat, stable and clear.  However, he says that "We
do not train for practice." As is to protect my virtue, I may hope to be
groped alone out in the open, but the mann, they tend to prefer the
advantage.  Of surprise, in close where he will not be seen, or the shadows
of night.
   Also, this valley is not flat, the flattest is the water, which is not
flat, and the deck moves so that the High Ground changes.  In the fight,
this the men call seeLegs.  I have been on boats.  He says it is boats, not
boots, pardon my Engelisch.  And sea not see.
   So, is best to train like this.  He taken down poles to roll on the
deck. "A fighter is as good as his footing," he is the only mann of my
fathers here, so the boatmen will not report to him.  It is our secret,
that I may fight, to defend my virtue, and more exciting than to watch.  I
see, it is exciting to him, his codpeice is uncomfortable.
   ;
   So, I have a moment in interLachen.  I told them the boats sloshed my
bladder, so I could write this.  Bavard is.  Well, he says that it is not
my virtue, but when asked about his discomfort.  We found a moment of
privacy, for him to show me!  It was longer than my hand, and very hard. 
It is not my virtue if I stay clothed, but quickly before I get my fingers
in trouble, I must say, it was amazing.  The taste, and the skin, and
hairs, and everything about it.  I must finish before they send a woman to
look after me.
   {Sexuality Note: She eroticizes weapons, dueling, and general
swordfights.  That's why she writes so much about it, in the erotic
excerpts.  It's symbolically phallic, but to her it's less subconscious
than intentionally fetishized.  Men are for fighting, and fucking.  So, the
one turns her on for the other.  It basically is her sexuality.}
   ;
   Interlaken schmittenHaus
   So, the basis of defense is he will try to grab my arm, or my bosom. 
Ist bosom?  I think so, either way, a mann will hurt you with his arms, and
hands.  He needs them to undress you, if nothing else, so your clothes are
as armor.  The last defense, but your arms are to aid this defense without
a shield, or buckler.
   You have bucklers?  They are like shields, only the size of a Helmet. 
He assures me you have the Morion style helmet in your court, as this, but
with a grip in the middle, I think I will get one.  So, it is like the
sidepoint, to learn for the sword.  My buckler is to learn for the shield.
And carry, in town you do not carry a shield, any more than a spear, or a
halberd.  You do have these, the Halberd, is like a pole ax?  Never mind we
are not to this, and as I am not to go to war, I may never learn, but I
have Knights.  My father would never let me Be a knight, to risk my value
to marry a Hapsburg.
   Bavard is, exited to teach me.  He apprenticed as a Smith, in his
squiredom?  I think, yes, as apprentice knight, he also learned with a
schwertSchmidt to see how they are made, and kept, fixed after fighting,
and armor as well.  As a guard in peace, he would be a knight in war, but
most likely to defend as from a Siege.  In peace, he is to punish
criminals, the robbers, and thieves, as Hirsch would a poacher, who is a
game thief.  The Venische, call him a "Mestro de Arma." He says is master
of weapons.
   So, he makes me a buckler, here in the Interlaken smithaus.  And a
pictSchwert.  Point sword?  Is like my sidepoint, or a sword with no edge,
just a square drawn out to a point.  And a sword guard, for practice, it
has a nagel, and ring for my finger on the quillion.  The Burgundisch call
it Epee, or Rapier?  This is, but thick, and heavy, and stiff, so that it
bend like the edge on a real sword, and I can feel as if a cut with an
edge. No stabbing, we practice bloodlessly, and his langMesser.
   Long knife, for the outlands.  In the city it is a sword, out here it is
a knife, like a sword.  Or sword like a knife, as long as a sword, but with
1 edge.  One must cut out here, and Hirsch.  He has a longKnife, but ask.
   "What is that?"
   "My knife?"
   "No, your sword."
   "Is my long knife." He showed it, and Hirsch showed his.  His is more
like a knife, while Bavard's is more like a sword.
   "No, this." It has quillen, but 3.  A third on 1 side he calls the Nail.
"Nagel." So, while in the smithHaus, he make a guard, and nagel for
Hirsch's knife, jagdMesser mitt Nagel.  I must say, watching and writing
not so much them working together, but pulling out their knives to compare.
Bavard without his shirt, his arm thick with blood from the hammer, and the
heat of the forge.  I imagine them, pulling out their, other knives.  To
compare, I wonder who's is longer.  Who's is thicker, and it would be nice
to have both, in each hand to compare.
   I have 2 hands, and after all, there are 2 of them.
   But now I must see what I can do with a buckler, and schlagerSchwert.
   {Historical Notes: "Before it was cool." Okay, Estocs, and
proto-Rapiers, in the late 15th century, when some of you may argue that
they were more of a 16th century thing.  Yes, like in the Treatises and
most Museum examples, but this is one of those "Points" that overlaps.  For
instance, most of the Cinquedea in collections were carried, albeit as
jewelry for gentrified hipsters of the middle class of Venice.  So, they
stayed in good condition, but those museums weren't even built yet, most of
them got their gold embellishments later to add prestige/value, and they're
civilian weapons.  Therefore left out of the Military treatices, so nobody
really knows how they were used in fencing.  Compared with the Rapiers
which were carried by off-duty soldiers, like Musketeers.  (Also note,
swords are, and always were sidearms, backups to a musket, pike, halberd,
or whatever.  Not primary weapons in the stories/games where everyone is a
knight or princess.  However, most of the fighting manuals are for Sword,
because they take the most training to use.  Like modern police, and mall
ninjas primarily carry and practice with pistols instead of rifles, and
shotguns.  While soldiers primarily use Rifles, and carry pistols as
sidearms.)
   In contrast to say Morea which is still in the Dark Ages, and fighting a
Cold Crusade/Jihad over the bones of ancient Greece.  So, it's like a
Cinquedea showing up on Antekithera, when it's basically a sword
exclusively for knife fights in the back alleys of Venice.  However, you
have sailors to Crete (Which is part of Venice) who just might have been in
back alley knife fights there.  So, A Cinquedea might just show up, but
everyone is going to point and say "WTF izat?" Like the Nagel on a sword
hilted Messer.  The langMesser is basically the German equivalent, and was
common through the late Middle Ages, with fencing schools for the Nobles
like Bavard.  However, it was also popular with common men, and the middle
class, like a side-court (Baron/Countess) jagrMeister.  Not just nobles,
but it's "Not a sword." It's a knife, with a knife-like grip, and
sword-like hilt, including the distinctive Nagel or "Nail" to protect the
knuckles from parrying with the flat.  As such, it varied from Hirche's
deer gutter to Bavard's "Hanger." A broad straight saber with a
semisharpened back edge at the tip for thrusting (On horseback) as well as
hack, and slash.
   Here, they're literally at the cutting edge of Renaissance weapons, and
armor.  Marovingen Swiss confederates at cold-war with the French, between
Germany, and Itali about to marry (Back) into the Habpsburgs, this
generation.  So, they already have Estocs (English Tuck sword, or in
Italian Espada de Stocco) and proto-rapiers.  Her first sword is basically
drawn out square to a blunt tip, and tempered to flex, instead of stab, or
shatter on a real blade.  Or "Schlager" in German, to strike, and bend
instead of sink into flesh.  Not unlike a fencing foil, only for the
Leichtanhaur school of Germany, which Bavard is a master in}
   ;
   Brienz Lake
   So, Bavard says I am "Good." With instruction, the pommel is low on the
pictSchwert.  So, I have more with which to use it, on his arm, and his
hilt when we close.  He also show me, without the buckler, how to use it
with the blade in hand.  Only without a blade, and mine does swing, as it
is to bend.  Like a hammer, but as this, I have the handle up.  Like the
dagger, to parry with, so when I lose or throw the buckler for distraction,
I can close with the sword as a hammer.  He showed me this with his knife,
and Hirsch also, to see them spar as if for me.
   For me to see, but I like this, from having no suitor to two, they are
jealous, and may come to a real fight for me.  Which is I must say exciting
to imagine, who will win.  Bavard, he is a trained Knight.  Perhaps on
horses, they both ride, and Hirsch cannot use his Arbalest there.  That
would not be a fight.  "Thump!" Dead, skip off hand and hand for the trees.
I like him better.  Rolph is so proper, and polite.  Hirsch is more like, a
real person.  You read, the stories, and they are about Bavard.  They do
not write them for the Jager.  The woodMann?  Feller, I know not what you
call this, nor could I ask, writing on such subjects, but the men of the
outLands.
   I like them.  Bavard is like my brother.  Will be, he is just starting,
while Bavard has learned all allready.  Hirsch is not, and I can not wait
to hunt.  With him, get alone with him, and pull his Messer out of his
leather breeches.  He wears these, instead of the slashed doublets and
codpeice which is the fashion this year.
   I hope it is just this year, and not a lasting fashion, for they are not
easy to get into, and I suppose they do protect in fights, but I don't want
a man for fighting.  I want to fight, and a mann fur ficken.  This, I know
not, if there is a word for, in Englisch.
   I have packed riding breeches, from last summer.  Not as worn, but even
tighter in the seat, and between my legs.  I will have to see if they will
stretch, wet them, and see how Hirsch likes their fit.  Or to make some for
me, we can go get the deerskin together, and eat venison by the fire.  I
just want to be with Hirsch, but if it came to a fight it would go to
Bavard.  Not to marry, just for, affairs.  I believe, yes, affairs.  I am
old enough for affairs, but after Bavard got uncomfortable from practice, I
milked out the problem, but I thought of Hirsch.
   Doing this with Hirch, not on a sickening tilting deck, in the ropeHaus,
but out on the hunt.  With him, I like this.  He is the Hart, a man should
hunt the fraulein, but I am stalking the Hart.  Hunting the Hunter, you
see? It is very exciting, but this is a shorter trip, to Insteltwald.  A
smaller boat, and fisherMann, but it is getting dark the second day.  A
good sunset, between the ridges of the valley, over the waters of the lake
as we turn, and they are lighting fires.  Not lamps, but fires to see in
the evening, and their fisherboats to come in.  No lichtenHaus, either.
   It is small, but closer to the outLands.  The trees, and the deer to
hunt with my Hirsch.  My hart.  To hunt my hunter.
   Wish me luck, I hope these days ramblings find you well.
   Milna
   ;
   Hisch Balgen
   He told me a story, bye the shore of Insteltwald.  Slowly, so I could
write it down.  I asked him about Deer, for they are seen as gentle
creatures, graceful, and quick.
   "Gentle, no.  I have seen the wolves, corner a stag in the rocks. 
Unable to flee, he reared like a warhorse, kicking and stomping.  At their
flanks, and their heads, they whined in pain, and fled.  A little way, to
circle back, their Alpha.  You know this?  Lord Wolf, they follow him.  It
was not until the stag came down, head first, and drove the lordwolf off
his feet.  He ran, and the pack ran with him.  They are, beautiful,
graceful and quick."
   He pulled at a curl of my hair, blown free of my braid from the trip,
and it went straight in his fingers.  Slipped out to hang back at my cheek.
   "Some men think that this means weakness."
   Then Bavard came to break it up.
   I was holding my sword, so I got up.  "All right," backed to the corner
of the boat.  It comes to an end, like a corner.
   This man, my Jager, he hunts stags, with dogs.
   Bavard had been peening a doppelhander.  I'm sorry, I must say, there is
sword, longsword, then there is a double handle sword.  He unrolled them,
this is the longest, and I took breaks while he beat on the hilt, the
bottom grip, and peened down the pommel.  It was such a time, when Hirsh. I
should say he made up my mind.
   This one had the crossguard, and rings like the figure of 8 on either
side.  Like Nagel, only 2 of them, and 2 more quillen up from the second
handle.  It has a 2 handed handle, another handle, and spikes like a side
dagger at the bottom of the sword sized blade.
   He had trained me against a speer, or a staff wrapped in leather as a
speer, but this was like a pike, with all the parts of a sword.
   "Ocht." The 8th thing he showed me, or Ox with two hands, high guard
held by the pommel with his other fist up at the base of the sword blade.
Hilt in the middle, it was like a shield.
   I feigned low, to stab high under, but he was too fast.  He did not
attack, merely stopped my slashes, and caught the sword between the guard,
and one of the handles.  He stepped in to push me back, so desperate, I
dropped to grip the pommel, and swung it back to hold the hilt, by the
blade like he did.  Up close, it drew his sword down, and he even slipped
his fist up, to the guard.  Slapped me sideways, stepping out to push me by
the arm, pinned to my side so I had to stumble out to the rail.  I almost
fell over the side, but the deck dipped, from my weight, and him following.
   This is not a ship, this is a boat, moored to the high shore like a
dock, but to post driven into, Erde?  The ground, yes on the side of the
lake.  They have a landing, but no dock, a ship would have to send boats.
Rather than accept the low ground, I jumped up on the side, then the back,
on my knees, and scrambled to my feet before he could follow.
   He was jealous, angry, he hurt me, charged with my protection, but he
could have Killed Hisrch.  Told my father what he did, touched me, and
almost tried to kiss me.  He could be skinned, then burned alive for less.
My family, takes discipline very seriously, and all his men know how he
cares for his daughter.  Of course, he could have turned the blade, and
sank the edge between my ribs, clean through my arm had he wanted to,
cornered as I was, but Hirsch ran away.
   "Coward, would hurt a girl.  Come on, then.  If you think you can hurt
me up here."
   I have the high ground, and this is a lot of steel.  I have the lighter
sword, and enough reach, he has to come up the rail, and onto shore with
the boat tilting lower as he moves out.
   He has a temper.  "Rh!" Long legs, took the rail with a step, and
jumped, but to one leg.  One foot, and I managed to get the tip in under
the Quillon.  In front, to slap, and slash out to the tip down his
knuckles, all 8.
   "Ocht!"
   "Ghr!" he held fast, but slapped down, with the flat.  I jumped back,
but that gave him the opening to step in, with both feet on shore.
   I feigned to parry, he lunged out in reposte', but I had seen him fight.
Train with all of the men, for years.  He was jealous, angry, and
over-extended.
   "TWIP!" the sword sang, and snapped across his eyes, bounced off his
nose, and I plucked my point from my belt.  By the round blade, I could
kill him, my father would hear how he attacked me, see the bruise from the
welt on my arm, and not deny that I can, in fact, fight now.  I just kept
stepping, around him, behind him, trying to recover his footing, that he
had never had.
   A fighter is only as good as his footing.  I put the handle of my knife
to the back of his knee, and pushed him to kneel, pressed the ring on the
front of my guard to the side of his throat, and pulled his back to my
chest.
   "Yield."
   He dropped it.
   ;
   {She is not naturally talented, but she is born to fight.  Muscle
memory, or reflex mapping is basically how she learned that, in about 36
hours.}
   ;
   Hartmann {G2f Tran fdoM.  Kommen von altend.  Just going to pop on
Ministry - Lay Lady Lay (B Dyaln) just to get in the mood.}
   "Laufen, Hartmann." My lady caught me.
   "I did not run far."
   "Good, come here.  Come back to me, my rabbitman.  I think I will call
you my rabbit man.  Gutter, is so common, and dirty for my huntmaster."
   "My lady."
   "I am not yours, you are mine."
   "Yes, my lady."
   "I won you, did you see?  Did you see how I defended your honor."
   "Yes, my lady."
   "Milne, I am not yours."
   "Yes, Milne."
   "Come with me, you know this place?"
   "Yes, lady."
   "Let me see this.  Oh, my hart!" Her fingers feel strong, and caloused.
"Oh, Hirsch!  What is this?"
   "My foreskin?" She pulled it back.  Called it my pommel, that was the
last thing I heard her say, before she filled her mouth to the top of her
fist.
   "My," no, not her, "God!" She is not mine, I am her's.  "Oh, my god!"
   {Cowboy Junkies - Misguided Angel (Trinity Sessions) ;}
   ;
   Milne (f.  Now.  mitt Her mann.)
   His knife, was smaller in the smith haus.  His handle.  It is not 2
handed, but hand and mouth!  So much milk, and gamier?  Is it what he eats?
I ate it hungrily, fast before Bavard recovered his courage.
   I beat him.  I could have killed him, but I think I will keep him.  For
a while but even my bunny's fur, is so much darker, and stronger, and the
smell of him.  For quite a while clung in my nose, as Majordomo showed us
to the cottage, and I got undressed in my room.
   It is small, but father will be out, before light he orders, to be back
on the water at the break of day.  Oh, but my bunny.  My skared little
rabbit man, run rabbit run!  His flanks, and sides heaving for breath. 
Panting like the hounds, but I am the wolf.  Damenwolf, the Lady wolf?  Not
his lady, he is my hart, my prey, my mann.
   I fell away to blissful dreams of woods, and bushes.  Chasing him, to
hide.  Panting, and hearing his breaths.  In the cold, not the snow, but
the cloud of it, then fleeing higher.  To see his tracks, and climb. 
Higher, to get the high ground.  Above him, then running for the cliffs. 
Like the sledge, for the loggenMann.  Mountain men, timbermen?  To bring
down trees in winter, without the sledge, or the ox to drag it, leaping
from the cliff, pouncing to catch him.  Crouching, panting with fear.
   Hunting my hinter, my deer, my bunnyMann.
   In the morning, I have never awaken to a fresher feeling, like the
spring, and the frigid melt from the mountains rushing down to the lake. 
We have this here?  I do not remember from the map to the hook, the nail
bent around the landing of InstelWald.
   "Bavard?  Were is My Master of Weapons?"
   "I will find him, my lady."
   "Damme!  I am not your's.  Tell the men, it's just Lady, and you are
Mine until the Baron returns, or he will hear of it."
   "Yes, Damme." He clicked his heels, and bowed out of the door.  So, I
could let the sheet, blanket, and down filled corverlet off of my
shoulders. To the cool morning air, thick, heavy and rich with water from
the lake, as it was last night, but not as warm.
   I pulled on some underclothes, and started on the girdle.  The high one,
to hold up my chest, before he returned.
   "Ah, my mann.  Come in." I turned, "Can you pull these laces, and knot
them at the top.  Don't touch me, you don't have to touch the girdle,
except for to tie them."
   "Your nurse comes."
   "I'm fine."
   "Father's orders, to check you."
   "Uh!  leave me then, so I may get ready to receive her.  Get all the
guards to meet me out front in the yard."
   "My,"
   "I," he recoiled from the back of my fist across his cheek.  "Am not
your's!  Go now, and make the arrangements." He had his chance to win me
last night.
   "Yes, Milne."
   "Damme!"
   "Yes, damme." He pulled the door behind him.
   He lost his temper, so I gave it to my mann.
   "Deer," my bunnymann.
   I have to take off the bloomers, you call them these?  Then put on an
underslip for modesty.  I do not want modesty, but my father.  You have
this, handmaden to serve you, with the moon?  I know not your phase, but
the blood moon.  I am a quarter waxing, but it is almost full.
   "My lady, I am sorry, but I must." Meek, and fearful.
   "Bavard told him." She lowered her eyes, but I saw a nod.  "I'll beat it
out of him later." I am a lady.  I beat the best of his men.  I am better
than the best of my father's men, not him.  He is not that old, and has
seen war.  I will not defy him, so I let her take my feet, and hold them on
her shoulders.  Facing the window, she holds up my skirt, and checks.
   "How is he?"
   "Bavard, or Hart.  I mean my Huntsmaster?"
   "You have," she looks down, slip hanging again, and feet back on the
floor.  "Seen both of them?"
   "Bavard is well tempered, and has stamina.  Hirsh is long, thick, and
has the skin."
   "Of his birth?"
   "Yes."
   "He is not Juden?"
   "He is Romansh." (Romance language.  The romance language for this part
of the German Alps.  Also, the swarthy fuckers that speak it, here since
the Roman empire came through on the way to Germania to fight Teutonic
Tribes, before the Franks came down here, the Merovingen line, and Hapsburg
was built in Swabia.) "From Airolo." He told me this, in the smithHause,
interLaken.
   "Hirsch Airolo."
   "Yes," I covered my laugh, "But I call him my rabbitMann."
   "Why is this?"
   "Because he runs, and I chase him like the she wolf!"
   "And then?"
   "I caught him, and stripped his flanks, and tasted his blood."
   "His blood?"
   "Well, the milk of his loins.  Have you tasted this?"
   "The man milk?  Yes."
   "I milked him, not as a cow, but as a man."
   "I like this," she made a milking motion, "Playing the milkmaid."
   "Who this with?"
   "My husband." She turned, redfaced.
   "Who else?"
   "You will not tell?"
   "You will not tell my father?"
   "I must." fear.
   "Tell him I kissen him."
   "He will know."
   "Yes, but not where.  I did, I kissed him.  Just say this, she kissed
him."
   "Yes, my lady."
   "Say it to me, as you will say it to him."
   "You kissed him." She nodded.
   "No, as if I am him.  My father, the Baron."
   "He may kill me."
   "I will do worse.  Don't be afraid," of him, "he will not know unless
you show it on your face.  Now, tell me, what has my daughter been doing?"
   "She beat your mastersSoldner, und then she kissed the huntsMaster, my
lord."
   "Yes, say it again, so that I believe it.  If I believe it, my father
will."
   "She beat your mastersSoldner, and then she kissed the huntsMaster, my
lord."
   "Yes, this is good.  Go now, and practice until he returns.  And put out
my riding breeches.  I think I will go for a hunt, after I inspect my
guard."
   "Yes, my lady."
   "Remember to say it."
   "She beat your mastersSolder, and then she kissed the huntsMaster, my
lord."
   She closed the door.
   ;
   {Okay, if you have trouble imagining her, think Disney.  She's not there
yet, only 13 (Of age at the time, she could already be married) Cinderella,
no not in the fireplace.  Upstairs, in the bed.  When she's much older,
she'll be a lot like the Lady Tremaine.  Only blond, and tanned, and the
Dread Pirate Morion.  I threw all of them in a blender, or Basiatus did. 
Takes about 60 years to come up here, breed her, and then for her to grow
old enough to sail fur der schwarzenSee.}
   Bavard (f/M Domm NS)
   I swore to my Lord that she beat me, with witnesses, and he cuffed me
severely until his arm tired, then cuffed me with his offhand until it
regained it's temper.
   "How long have you been teaching her?"
   "To fight?  The last day and a half, since we left Thun on the
lakenBoot."
   "And she beat you?"
   "Not on level ground, Lord.  She had the high ground, and took advantage
of it, as I taught her." I added, "She is your daughter."
   "Yes, she is." He left, then I was summoned, and as ordered gathered the
guard for her inspection.
   I did not tell him of the jagrMeister.  Failing so in my duty, he would
have me packed through the bind with embers until I cooked from the inside
out.  {Executed, by shoving red hot coals up his ass.  The family has been
escalating since Vlad Tepech.  AKA lord Drakul of Transylvania.}
   "Your men." I bowed.  "You are dressed for riding."
   "I have sent for a horse, to be prepared."
   "We did not bring your saddle."
   "They have saddles.  Now, who is your best?"
   "Mann?"
   "Yes, your second.  If you would chose a man as champion."
   "I am your champion."
   "No, you are now my second.  Would you like to try again?"
   "No, my."
   "Damme.  Just damme."
   "Yes, damme."
   "Who?"
   "Venni."
   "Yes, Meister."
   "Spar with me."
   "No, spar with me.  Rolph, is there a smith haus here?"
   "Yes, Damme."
   "Good, than find it, and make me a sword."
   I bit my teeth together.  "What kind of sword?"
   "Like this, only stiff as my sidepoint, and long as a longsword."
   "Eztoken?"
   "What is thus?"
   "As you say, like your striker, except 2 handed.  What sort of hilt?"
   "Like your knife, your sword knife?  Yes, with nagel.  Give it to me."
   I drew it, halfsword to offer her the handle.
   "Yes, like this.  Hartmann?"
   "Jahwol?"
   "Take this, he can make another.  Know you how to use it?"
   "No, lady."
   "Then learn you are Veni?"
   "Venizzio." He bowed.
   "Romansh?"
   "Venizzi," he nodded.
   "That is a buckler, take it off, HartMann."
   "Why do you call him rabbit?"
   "I thought I told you to go find the forge."
   "I am your shield."
   "Then have them send me a shield.  The guard are here, are we under
attack?"
   "No, my."
   "GO!  Now.  I do not need you any longer."
   "Yes, damme."
   "Talk with me a moment.  You two, show einander what you have."
   "Yes," we walked, a ways.  Steel rang behind us.  "Damme?"
   "You will not tell my father."
   "I must."
   "If you tell him he will not kill me, and I will not kill you until you
have suffered enough to satisfy me!  Do you understand?"
   "Yes, I understand."
   "Good, now go make me a sword." She patted my rump like a horse.
   ;
   Milne
   My inspection consisted of testing my men, and begun training my hart.
Into a stag, a fighting deer one day, but he started out a rabbit.  A
coward, and no man of mine would stay a coward.  None were as good as
Bavard, of course.  Who else would my father charge with my protection? 
Guarding my dignity, threatened with horrors to ensure his loyalty, but I
seduced him.
   He is impetuous, and jealous, but a good fighter.  Just needs keep his
temper, too easy to taunt into giving up his advantage.  Unsuitable to me,
but a good trainer.  Also, not so impressive in the codpiece.  Trimmed, as
is the custom of the Habsberg Catholics.  {The House of Austria, currently
consolidating with Prussia, and Hungary.  The Holy Roman Emperor is in
Buda/pecht.  Not Rome, Venice, and Milan were greater Imperial Powers at
the time.} He came back with my Estokensword, a true sword, stiff and
strong yet edgeless.
   However, his second Venifzio has a strange style, and sword.  As with
Hartmann's Knife, now sword hilted.  It is broad, but double edged, and
comes to a "Slashing tip."
   "Chinquedea," he calls it, for it is "Five fingers" wide, and as long as
his arm.  I ask him where he learned to fight like this.  "Candy." He
showed me, holding it up, along his forearm.  "The Cretans that follow the
Morean Queen fight thus." Like a shield, with the buckler.  Very defensive,
as I beat at them with my schlager, and the back of Bavard's knife.  He is
very good, but I dance around him, so he can not come close enough to
strike, even scratch at my arm with his wedge of a sword.  This cuts off
his reach further, but then Bavard returned with my blade.
   "Where is the hilt?"
   "Working on it, the steel has to anneal to work." The men took a break,
and some water.  At the shore of the harbor, where I could see my father's
fisher fleet playing at Seespiel.
   "I would like a ring, like this." I held up the side of my practice
sword, "And this." On the quillion, "A nail on the other side."
   "Yes, damme." He returned to the forge.
   "Now, you two.  Veni, show my Hart how to fight, with his knife." I may
have my shield make me one of those, sword/daggers.  Chinkwedia.  I like
the edgeless swords, for killing, but some times one must cut, and that can
cut.  Well, biting into the edge of a shield, then flipping back to block
by the flat.  Broad flat, and stiff for the heavy steel, though it looks
more like some of the bronze swords in the Treatices.  I remember, he said
Kretan, was that not Greece?  "Veni?"
   "Yis, Countess." As if the Burgundy ladies, I waved it off.  "You have
been to Krete?"
   "Yis, Countess."
   "Minos?"
   "No, Candese.  I was born in Candy." {Chania.  Under Venetian
occupation.} "I have a book.  Of my father's, before he was killed."
   "It has a map?"
   "Of Candy.  My father was.  As sir Bavard, a." he hammered.
   "SchwertSchmidt?"
   "Yes, he had a wife, who was killed, then my mother.  His first wife was
Ozmondes.  Made a woman by the enchantress."
   "This is starting to sound like a fairy tale."
   "It is my family history.  She could not give him children, but Azisa
Pestous, di Pori was a boy before she took him.  Married him, and made him
her wife."
   "What is this?"
   "It is all in her book, zie chronicle of Azisa Pestous di Pori." {*}
   "And this enchantress?"
   "She is, Medea y Manawat."
   "Is?"
   "Yes, she yet rules, the Kithera, y Pori."
   "What is this Pori?"
   "A rock, or 2.  I have not seen, it is Greece.  The last of old Greece,
claimed by the Morean.  Medea y Manawat, queen of Whores."
   I had him translate it into Latin, as it was written in Ozmonden Turkish
of the Barbers.  A gutteral language, I know not, but he is fluent in.  I
will send it, with my letters, to hide my sexploits from the watchful eye
of my father.  Fortunately, his Engelisch is bad, and gives him a headache
to read.
   "So," break over, "Let me see this Chinkwedia."
   "Cinquedea." I nodded.
   "How do you use this?" I flipped back, along my forearm, but the ferules
bit into it.  I had no bracer like his, but I see the hands, and arms are
the first to get cut, in a swordfight.  Or knife fight, he could be the
best knife fighter among us, but this.  This is a sword, for a knife fight.
So, I paired with the long knife, I took from Bavard, and loaned him my
striker-sword.
   "Yis,"
   "Ah!" He is very good, got my knuckles, so I flipped it over, and
stepped back to switch feet.  Knife high, in Ox.  Like high guard, but
turned, to point at him.
   "Fiorenza?"
   "Vas?"
   "This guard." he mimicked me, only with the buckler instead of dagger.
"In Fiorenza."
   "Show me."
   ;
   {* Continuity Note: Basically the first half of \Pori.  Before the
narrative shifts to Marino's PoV.  Also, the "Coincidence" of Jiankarlo's
son being here, with a Cinquedea isn't.  The Basiatus had to sail to
Venice, then Oberlund to the alps, to breed a backup plan while Marina, and
Marino were maintaining Pori, and building the fleet.}
   ;
   Leonard, sie Shneider von Candy {(Kraftwerk - Boing Boom Tschak
(Electric Cafe')}
   So, I went to the forge after practice.  That countess had eyes for the
Hunter, Hartmann, but worked up her blood while we trained.  She picked up
the Florentine style quickly, and took my back sword.  {Not to be confused
for a Backsword, he wears the Chinquedea across the small of his back} and
sent me to get the Chronicle from my things.
   I miss the smell of the forge, the heat, and ring of steel on steel.  It
reminds me of home, my father, in Candy.  Here, they call me Sneider, und
Venician.  Because I came from the court of Venice, though I am more
properly a merchant of Candy.
   This Rolph, is a good man.  Stripped to the waist, his fine slashed, and
bloused hose discarded for thick leathers, and an apron.  His hammer arm,
he swings it by hand, bouncing it with sparks, and tapping it on the anvil
to keep rhythm, glistening with sweat.
   "Da, Schneider?" He set the bar back in the coals, and the smithboy
works the bellows.
   I unleaned from the open doorway, "She took my sword." I showed him my
empty belt, "You think you could make me another?"
   "I am a knight, not a common blacksmith."
   "She said: 'Tell him.  To make you a new one,' when she took it."
   "She has made a habit of that, lately."
   My family, here they do not have the Kretan tradition of Philator.  He
does not know my father, but I would not mind.  A man like this, in other
circumstances.  I am too old any way, but.  I remember his stories, of his
Maestro, and I have not known a love like this.  Perhaps in another time,
but she wastes him.  Casting him aside for that coward.
   He nodded, "You are a good fighter, for a tailor."
   I laughed, "Merchant.  I was, gentrimann, you have this, here?  My
father, would have been a prince, in your ranks, but I am illigitimate.  He
did not marry my mother." Not with his wives, it is.  Complex.  "Sewing is
more of a hobby."
   He nodded, "Well, you are a good fighter, for a merchant sailor."
   "The nature of the seas.  Do you know of Crete?"
   "Old Greece?"
   "Old Greece is gone, but the lands are still there, and her people yet
survive.  Their seas, Archepelagos, it is war.  Always war, the navies
change, but the war does not end.  As it was for the Greikes, the Atenes,
Sparti, Persi, and Minotes."
   "The Persish, yes I have heard of, sei 3 hundred Spartish."
   "Thermopoli." Old story, gets around.  "Now, it is the Ozmandes, and sei
Moreani." The army, and navi must have grown from so much retelling...
   "And the Venixi."
   "Yes, we hold Crete, but are fought back tou Candi, Dalmatia."
   "Yes, yes.  My lord, he studies the navi."
   "Yeah, well he's a Cavalrimann.  I have seen him play Admiral, it is a
hobby, like sewing."
   "You will not disrespect your Baron."
   He put down the hammer.
   "He is your Baron, not mine.  I have heard stories, yes?  Of his
dungeon, and the tortures he has for those who defy him?" I looked over at
the forge.  "That looks hot enough."
   He picked up his hammer, "You are not afraid?" Fished the hilt out with
a long pair of tongs.
   "Where I come from?" I shook my head.  "No."
   ;
   Milne
   So, I had my Hart make me a bracer, and a sheathe.  For my wedge sword,
though I decided to carry it on my thigh, as a knife.  He took my point, to
push through the thick leather, and also sewed a vest for me.  With der
Schneider von Candy.  Not Venifzio, as my father called him, but from
Candy, Crete.  Together, they added a loop under my arm, to hang the Tuck
sword from.  This is what Bavard says you call these, like my sword, or the
Claymore without an edge?  It is very nice, the reach makes up for my arms,
it is light at the tip, and has a good flat pommel to grip, or bend to the
enemy's arm.
   I like this, it is good in 1 hand, or I may hang my buckler from my
sidearm without the sword.  They are heavy, together, but there is no need
for the sword, especially around this small town where there are no
robbers, and I have a minimal entourage.  The least I can get away with,
Bavard as my shadow, my Hart, and the tailor.  The latishMann also chatting
with Hart in Romansh.  The 4 of us, would be a formidable force were there
something to fight, but I settle for a tour of the land.
   Steeply wooded, and with Jackal, Wolven, even Beren.  Bern has bears on
the pennants, and in cages, but out here wild, and very dangerous.  Too
steeply wooded to ride, but a good view, and Veni knows the trails.  Not as
a hunter, he does not hunt, he is a tailor, and merchantmann, but a good
fighter, with war stories of pirates.  Corsairs, and Moreans, which sound
wild, vicious, and obviously larger than life.  The woman, beating a score
and dozen marines into submission, with an estoc, and whip, the handle shod
with a lead pommel like "A Flying Mace," to make Bavard laugh.
   They warmed to eachother, the Germann, Cretan, and Romansh.  My bunny
rabbit, but to be in the company of men, as I have dreamed all my life. 
Free, and to explore at my beck and call.  I told my father, "You command
sei see?  I will look after the lands." Steep as they are, and high, but a
good view over the lake, the valley, cliffs across it, and sun shining on
the bright snowy slope, even higher.  In the heat of the day, only cooler.
We stop, for the men to catch their breath, even as i wish to drive them to
the snow.
   So, we play, knife und dagger.  With bucklers, the shields, and
longswords, hart's ax against trees, always circling for high ground. 
Vinese with Bavard, they are well matched, wilst I go easy on my Hart, I
wish not to hurt him.  It is exciting, and on a break, to climb higher I
took the tailor aside to whisper.  For him to draw Bavard out.  Off, "Aus,
un auf." How to taunt him, to give chase as the Hart, to have some time
alone with mine.  He laughed, said he would not mind such time with Bavard.
He shrugged, pouted with his lips, "He is a fighter, not a lover, but. 
Huh!"
   He likes the look of him.  I giggled, like a girl.  "Truly, thus?"
   "I like mann," he nodded, "Und frau, but he is.  So strong, and gross,
and clean, and fair."
   "Like a lady?" He hit my arm.  "Au!"
   "A lady like you.  I would not mind.  If he would be my lady."
   "He is a mann!"
   "I know, right?  But, a mann, can lay like a lady.  Or I can play the
lady for him."
   "Pervert?" I had to laugh, but it got my blood up, "How is.  Would that
be, without." I don't even know the word, "The place, of a lady."
   "Vagina?" Yes, for sheathe, or scabbard, I had forgotten.  "In the bind,
or betwixt the thighs is traditional."
   "Is not, he is Catholic."
   "It is, as Roman Catholic with Habslund Catholic?"
   "Yes, it is sin."
   "I forget, how it is in Europe.  On my island, it is tradition, so I
should play the lady."
   "I do not think he would go for that, either."
   "You never can tell, and he seems, about to burst his breeches."
   "He is not so gross."
   "Little?"
   "The smallest I have seen." Of the two, which made me curious.  I
grinned, "You have you blood up?"
   "I could, readily."
   "For a lady?" A big tree, Bavard lecturing, barely paying attention to
the trail.  "Help me with this." The sword, is to long under my arm, but I
can grip the blade.  Flat, but very thick in a diamond, it takes both hands
to draw it out, and hang from a branch.  "Come here, let me see this."
Sitting on a root, and pulling at the laces.  "Yes, my man.  My tailor,
what fine breeches you have, and.  Oh!" Not cut.  I do not like this, cut
like Bavard.  It is unatural, and I like the skin, to slip off his pommel.
"Mh!" I know not, whether it helps his flavor, like my Hart, but he is
keeping my shield busy.
   "Milna, milady?"
   "MH?" Hold his hips, so he doesn't get away.  "Grawlk, guh!  Kuh,
khaAH!" Too deep, but I pulled him back, but the handle, so his skin winked
like an eye, then pushed it back from his pommel with my lips.  Felt under
it with my tongue, and the wrincles in the cleft.  The ridges on either
side, kommen together.
   He grunted, and milked into my hungry mouth, I drank it to the last
drop, gulping, and milking underneath with my thumb.
   Bavard looked down, jealously.  "Was?" I wiped the corners of my mouth
with my thumbs, but it was just drool.  "I kept my breeches on, it is not
my virtue.  Ready to go on?"
   He is very jealous, but I do not think, he will kill the Vinese.  I do
not think he can.  So, he will preserve my Hart, until he can defend
himself.
   ;
   {Note, Candy is not full blooded, but a little more than human, and much
more experienced than Bavard.  Who is a trained knight, who has never seen
war, nor been boarded by Pirates.  So, yeah.  He basically let him win, to
preserve his honor, but can probably kick his ass easily.  Also, "Gross"
means Great.  Big, as in a GrosSwert would be a 2 handed Greatsword.  What
she called a Doppelhandle earlier.  Not "Gross" as in nasty, of the 3
Bavard is the smallest in the pants, but the largest built.  Training as a
knight, or squire since he was probably about 7.}
   ;
   {My latin sucks, so translated straight, or gayly from Romensh into
Anglic.  Sent bi courior, with the fastest rider she had at the lake, when
they were done with him:}
   Hartmann {MMfdoM}
   "Our lady, Bavard could protect until she took over.  That summer, I
learned more than I had in 2 dozen years.  Over swordplay, and loveplay. 
My father was a woodMann, he hunted as well, but made most of his living
hauling in timber, and carving.  Not a carpenter, which he could do, but
found more money and reknown with his faces, heads, and especially hair. 
He showed me, how to find it in the wood, the threads that flow through it
as hair.  Or water, even blades of grass, and pikes moving through the
fields.
   At home, his Meisterwerk was as a table, no one would sit on, showing
Hannibal driving through the fields of Airolo.  Elephant, and an army of
shields with spears from the top of a stump.  The mountains, and pass down
to Milan, he could see through the doors when open.  All who viewed it
wanted something carved, even so simple as a walking stick, but rooted to
the floor of the house.  He could not bring it with us, but that is how he
could afford to raise me better.
   {He couldn't exactly do the 47 Ronin.}
   In Breinz, on the end of the lake, he started a model of the city which
he did not finish, but I found my kraft in the hunt.  Wilst he looked for
wood, to bring back, he passed in winter to a cough, and fever until he did
not wake up, cold in the night.  My mother raised me as well as could, with
the inhieritance we moved again to Insteltwalden.
   The bay, on a boat, I learned to rock to sleep in it, and she had plants
on the deck.  Over the cabin, instead of a roof, or garden.  There is a
deck, my father did not make it for her, but carved it, before he died. 
She loved the see, and sailed us out here, when the ice was gone, to visit
with the fishers, and loved the village.  We did not fish, but he carved
the fish, and fishfolk.  Fishfrau, as her, at the head of their bed.
   I hanged, as a sausage beside the door, but it made the rocking more
gentle, as I drifted off to dreamlund.
   Then, the Baron came, with his daughter, whole loved the village as
well. One spring, and she was beautiful, I imagined being hers, but not
that I could.  'Twas but a fantasy, but they returned with his fleet.  I
had to pay, to move my hausBoot around the horn, as it has no sails, and I
can not row it myself.  I am not a sailor, as some may think, living on a
boat.  I can fish, but you can not stalk them, as with game.
   I prefer the hunt.  Not the kill, for all the work that comes after. 
Following it down the slope, and fixing it to carry back to town, but I eat
well, fix the furs, and sell leathers.  To the tailer, I knew him from
Brienz, but he came to test the guard, when they came.  He told me he held
back, from beating Bavard because he did not want his job.  Protecting the
girl, her virginity.
   I don't wnt that duty, either, which put me at odds with Bavard.  It
drove him mad, I believe.  You say mad for Anger, and Insanity?  Yes, first
anger, then murderous rage, he had to be killed.  She beat him, with his
anger.  I saw it, he saw me touching her hair, I was not told, but I knew
better.  I could not resist, with her right there, my eyes refleting in
hers, and the whisp that pulled free from shwertSpiel with Balger.
   Your German is very good, my lady, but your Latan Rormansh (Romance
Language, literally) is better.  Bitte, und Baume.  Beautiful, your voice,
light, and sweeter than the lady Alberich.
   Her first time with me, she forced him to kneel in the harbor before
her, and held the edgeless sword to her throat.  Then, she came to me, told
me to run so she could chase me, but not to far.  She lay me down, in
clover left from the spring, but no longer flowered.  For the bees, but it
was by then dark, and we were far beyond the fires of the shore.
   There is a fort, an old stone fort on the spit they took from the Major.
She took my by the hand, and mouth.  You know how to do this?  You never
have before?  Here, let me show you, it is easy.  You will learn, quickly
enough, let me just get this codpiece off.  I hate these things, but as
they say.  I have never been to Rome, but this Angelund is nice enough.  It
is named for the angels?  Yes, you have the mouth of an angel, just milk it
with your hand.  The milk will come.
   Oh, my Yarla, yes.  This is good, yes!"
   {biLingual Note: At some point, I can't help but have my way with words.
I hope I don't have to point out the obvious puns, see/seiMann.  Romench,
no longer living hand-to-mouth, but getting in a bit of a Bind, und sew
fourth...  (Had to get up to Zechs.) I think in puns, can't really turn it
off, usually edit them out while I'm putting in speling erors to
differentiate the authors.  (When they're distinctively literate.) In this
case, it's subtext, with the context of switzerLatin/Deutshbang from being
serially linebanged going all the way back to Carthage.  Not a whole lot of
passes in and out of the valleys, between the ridges and peaks, try not to
think about it, cause I don't have to.  Any way, he's illiterate, but
telling all this to his mistress, an Anglo/Saxon Yarla (Earletess) because
there's not 1 princess.  At some point, she writes it down.}
   ;
   Yarla (fg Mole.  Also, that's her title, not her name.  So, also Anon.)
   "We met in Zurich.  My father had business.  He hates the Burgundi, and
thought he could find allies in their enemies.  Powerful allies, and
frightful.  He won't tell me, what he has heard of her family, but what
little she has written."
   "Yes, the Baron is.  He enjoys discipline, in his household, army and
navy.  Shameful joy."
   "That is?"
   "I know not the word in Anglic, he enjoys buring people.  Burning them
to death, raping them, especially the men.  I did not know he did this, to
Bavard.  They don't speak of it, but I saw him roast a man, on a spit."
   "Over a fire?"
   "The spit, yes.  Not the man, he was bound to posts beside it, so that
the iron spit could be heated, from the inside."
   "Oh, no.  We do not have words for that." * "The raiders, might have
words for that."
   "The Norse?"
   "North of here, the fireheads, the clans of northmen.  They are fierce,
and I read stories about them.  My husband, doesn't let me ous as her
father did."
   "You are."
   "Nearly a score, next spring.  When my child shall come.  In Zurich I
was a dozen, and 3."
   "So, she was."
   "Seven, or eight?"
   "What was she like?"
   "Mean, demanging," her Germann is soft, "Until I satisfied her." From
mostly reading it.  {A history of Bern, and so forth, between letters
smuggled in them}
   "How?"
   "I made love to her?"
   "How?"
   "With a girl, it is.  It would take a while, to negotiate the words
between us but simply with my hands, and mouth.  She learned to satisfy me
as well, but I already knew how to that."
   "Show me."
   "Now?"
   "I want to learn."
   {* Donatien Alphonse, Marquis de Sade wasn't born yet.  Yes, same
families.  Take the historical bloodlines of Europe, and Amp the Kink gain
up to 11.  Not all of them, but more than enough.  Power CAN corrupt, but
absolute power does.  Absolutely, but when you're born corrupted, you can
only Escalate.  Over centuries, the Alberich are pretty close to the main
line of super-natural Congenital Sadistic Malignant Narcissits. 
Shadenfreud, or eventually to be known as Sexual Sadism, if this branch of
inhumanity isn't going to be wiped with the rest of them.  (Again, Vesta
with a follow-through with the Moon.  1-2 punch, eventually cooling to a
ball coated in smooth basalt/obsidian.  For fucking with the timeline.)
Milna just happened to be raised by a cannibal.}
   ;
   Hart {Mf Preg Cons.  Fantasy, but that goes without saying.}
   "You like stories." She lay back, fat with child.  We are snowed in
here, I can rent a sledge, and one of their fur footed draft horses on the
morrow, right now I have the woman I satisfied.  On her second child, just
weaned, a bawly little brat with it's nursemaids for the night.
   Cold drafty place, on a hill.  Brilliant, with a bailey around it, but
the bed is warm, and I don't feel the need to hike for the fireplace.  Just
heat her up to warm her with her body, with the mulled cider already gone,
and thawing out of my head, shake it, watching.
   "I learn from doing, things." I licked my fingers, "Like this?"
   "Ja," not Da, or a soft D.  "She called me rabbit.  Hartmann ever after,
that first time."
   "She was not your first?"
   "Oh no, there were plenty in Breinz, und Aurnmeuhle.  Interlachen,
between the lakes.  Here?  It is in the valley, between many peaks, but
there is an abbey, closed now, but not as soft and full as these.  Snow at
the peaks, always, you are without milk?"
   "Mh, yes."
   "Smq, huh!  In the summer, the lake is deep, but not this warm."
   "Mh, uh huh?"
   "So, we must dive in, and come back out, shivering.  On the spit, in
front of the old fort, it is not forested, like this.  But we can warm up,
in the sun, playing on the pebbles.  Running around, faster, and faster
then diving in to swim around, wriggling like fishes, and kicking like
running in the deep waters."
   "AhHH!  Yes, my deer!"
   "Your Stag."
   "Jah, my stag.  NghaHH!"
   "Then I came in, for the hunt.  Took up my spear, and dove back into the
woods!"
   "Oh yeah?"
   "Da, not up here to the peak, but deep into the valley." She had a
child, in her, she would not take another for months.
   "How deep?"
   "This deep?"
   "NjahH!  Deeper."
   "Sometimes I had to go in, and come back out, with a deer."
   "Yes, my deer."
   "Or up to the mountains."
   "Ok yes!"
   "Up to the sky where I could see over the lake!"
   "Oh yes, take me.  Take me there!"
   "Closer to god!"
   "AUJAHH!"
   ;
   Berserker {Incidentally, that's "Norse" (Skandinavian, not Pict, nor
Kelt, which she calls "Norse" in Germann) for Champion.}
   "Hah!" Good morning.  Woke to wash the morning breath out from her cup,
and fed her my cream.  She has played, "Milkmaid." Has gotten rather good
at it, but kommen down sie Motte.  {To the Bailey}
   Met the Lord, her husband, the Jarl.  I do not know these Ranks, whether
this puts them above, or below the Alberich, possibly on the same level? 
Didn't ask, why he only loves her for heirs, not my business.  I learned,
being around these families, not to dig too deep.  I don't like all that I
find buried, but they have brown hair.  Light, and green eyes.  Her's as a
gem, a Beryl {Emerald} whilst his are darker, closer to the shade of a
leaf, overlicht by sie sonne.
   Clear to the wall, with huts, tents, and some houses.  Timbers, a lot of
it around here, I could do with a chase.
   "Switsermann."
   "Zu sprechen sie Deutche?"
   "Nicht mir goot." Close enough to understand.
   "Vas ist?"
   "I am the lord's Champion, he asked me to test you."
   "I am not a knight, just a good hunter, you have a huntsmann?  Do you
ride?"
   "Well, that explains your sword."
   "It's a knife."
   "I bet it messes up, what does it cut?"
   "Wood, flesh, bone.  You are the weaponsMaster?"
   "Ja,"
   "Go get it."
   "I do not fetch for the lowborn."
   "Taunting me, all right.  You boy.  He is your squire?  Yes, send him."
   "What duz et look laq?"
   "Look you.  Here, it's a grossmesser, can't miss it.  About this long."
Over his shoulder.
   "The Falchon." He held up his fists, "2 Hands."
   That Bavard, sure he's an asshole, but he does know his steel.  Made me
a warknife, grossMesser.  Hits like an axe, cuts like a knife, and I am
working on this 2 handed fighting.  Much quicker than my axe.  Soes not cut
as good, but with.  What is that?"
   "My Seax?"
   "Jeah, that.  Can I see it."
   "A messerMann." He turned, "Ja, there is mine svert unt shield."
   "Schwert, you have fought with the Germann?"
   "Dussack?"
   "Hanger."
   "Why is that?"
   "It hangs on the saddle."
   "For hunting?  Nice!" Like a messer blade, but with a hilt like a
basket. Of iron, but with a steel blade, with a valley drawn down the back,
with a Fuller, and the edge drawn in front of it so it is hollow.  No back
edge to the tip, which curves back, and can not stab.
   Mein can stab, though halfSwertz is best, to put the point where I want
it, gripping behind the edge.  I hold it by the pommel, so he will have to
pass mine point, but with a shield, it is another thing.
   Just sparring, right.  After I fucked his Lord's wife.  "Yeahr!" All
night.  "When ever you are ready," Why don't you go teach that hunterMann a
lesson, maybe give him a scratch?  "Kommen, I won't bite." I won't give him
any more of the defensive advantage, as She taught me, and Bavard taught
her.
   Ox, I let go, and side stepped back.  "Auktz!"
   Slapped the cross right over the steel dome in the center of his
"Targe?"
   "Yes," he punched with the iron band, but I dug the Nail into the studs
around the rim, guard catching on the tacks, pinning the leather to the
wood, and skuffed the design tooled into the face.  Like 2 knots, curved
around the sides of the dome, as the new, and dying moon, but I slipped my
hilt off to parry his blade aside, and flipped it back to the grip.
   He went high with the shield, so I circled around.  That side, he can
not strike through his own arm, but I saw it, buckled instead of gripped,
in the center.  Hooked my blade under, and twisted.  The tip, into the back
of the badge, and felt for the belt.  The leather belt, he bashed at my
head, but I bend, and ducked behind the iron edge.  Caught the bottom of
his grip, I did not see well.  Well enough to use as the fulcrum, of the
lever to saw the rest of the way through the bottom of his arm strap.
   Put my shoulder into the face, and swung him away, stepping back, 2
steps as it swung just by the handle.  He through it at me, but I ducked
and parried, then he was at my throat.
   Too high, he stepped under, like a lunge, but stopped short of plunging
it up behind my chin.
   I swallowed, turning mine edge down, but.  "If you kill me, I'll bring
this down next." He can not pull it out of my mouth, and parry high at
once, I can still take him with me.
   He stepped back, Ox.  "You are more than a good hunter."
   "I never said I wasn't." Made the occasional shield, too.  "Can you
spare a squire?"
   "You are not a knight."
   "Until I leave, and you have a smith here?"
   "Yes, of course."
   "Boy, take this to be fixed." My edges were dulled, particularly the
back of the tip, from feeling around behind the dome in his targe.
   "You cut off my shield, where did you learn that?"
   "We were locked," with that guard, he can not turn his blade, or cut
with the back.  "So, I thought of something, to take your defense."
   "You were not taught that?"
   "No, but I was taught to make shields." I picked his up, he can tack on
another strap.  "Not like this, how do you fix the leather?"
   "I do not, the Targewright did."
   "He is as a smith?"
   "He makes shields."
   "I would talk to him then."
   "The pole ax you brought."
   "Just the head, did you go through all of my arms?"
   "I have not seen, such as this?" At the armerie.
   "Bavard, de Munchenmann?  You met him?"
   "In Zurich."
   "Yes, I hear he was there." On the way back from Alsace Lorraine, "He
calls it a Lucsern Hammer."
   "Is like a Bec du Corban."
   "What is?"
   "This, on the back.  Like the beak of the Raven."
   "A bird."
   "A gross, black bird."
   "I have only been past Burguni, not through.  But I have seen this, on
their Halberd."
   "Yes, but this blade."
   On top, "Cinquedea."
   "What?"
   "Hand, size blade, yes.  Give me it, see?  I can grip it here, for
fencing, or as the parry dagger, out here."
   "Why?"
   "For hunting.  See, I push it out, at the end." He had it mounted, and
oiled, and sharpened.  Or did it himself.  "You are a ShwerSchmidt?"
   "ArMeister.  Ja."
   "Where is your forge?"
   "This way.  I have, a boy.  A 'prentice, smith.  You are hunter?"
   "Yes, how old?"
   "Almost ten."
   "Yes, I can take him hunting, he knows these lands?"
   "And the lake, he fishes."
   "I do not fish," shake my head, "Can't see what I hunt, and I will be
gone before the thaw."
   "He fishes on the ice."
   "How?"
   "Through a hole."
   "Ah." I am old enough to be the philator.  "Boy, he speak Germann?"
   "He can learn."
   "Yes, he is still young." Look at him.  Pull the hair from his eyes,
dark green eyes.  "Yes, He can show me, where to hunt."
   "Later," he sets him to the bellows.  Having started the fire, he may be
a while.  I walk by the wall.  "What is this?"
   "SpeerTuck."
   "May I, sir?"
   "Go ahead." Like a spada de stocca, with a leaf shaped spear blade.  And
a broad flat bar for the handle, but of iron.  "Can you make this, of
steel?"
   "I can try."
   "Like the Cinquedea."
   "That will be heavy."
   "Yes, with the hammer, and beak.  To stop the boar, when it charges, or
the bear when he rears?  Yes, like that, I can handle the weight.  And draw
this out." The riccasso, "You have fullers?"
   "This is for hunting?"
   "You have lancers, yes?"
   "Of course."
   "Then for lancing.  Lanshwert?"
   That Munchen, Bavard.  He has too many weapons.  His squire Kaddie, is
overladen bringing them back from his horse.  I would rather have 2, or 3,
that do all.  Than one for every fight.  I am not an Armaster, but She
calls this cross-training.
   ;
   {Yeah working on it.  puNotes: Bavard is a Munchkin, the gamer term. 
Basically the Power Assertive Lawful Evil Malignant Narcissist sword nerds
tend to play, in Fantasy games.  Minmaxer, and so forth, while Hirsh is The
Ranger.  At some point, he has to carry everything, or the horse if he has
one.  So, the opposite end of the spectrum is "Everything you need, nothing
you don't." Which is why he likes multifunction tools he can use as
weapons. Like a Lucerne Hammer, handax, and hunting shield, he hasn't even
started on yet...}
   ;
   Quil deLasci (GM Sedu?  Lang/IR NS)
   The Hunter was dark, for a DeutsheMann.  I have bean learning to read it
from the History of Bern, but have not Spake it much aloud.
   "Latine Loqui?"
   "Who are you, little one."
   "Contessa Quilla deLasci, auf Normandie?"
   "Normannish, what are you doing here?"
   "Staying deVinter mitt mine Cousin, the Yarla deLasci."
   "LakSee?"
   "Lasci."
   "Aquilla de Lasci?"
   "No, Quilla.  Oh, ContessA deLasci."
   "You are, Burgundoir?"
   "Anglo-Normon."
   "Pardonne, mine Frankisch ist worse than mine Anglic."
   "My latineLoqui is better than my Deutshe.  You are, Milanoir?"
   "Romansh.  aufAirolo."
   "Oh, you are Hirsh Balgen?"
   "I have been called that, or Hirsch Hartmann.  Have you heard of me?"
   "I have read your lady's letters."
   "She is not my lady, I am her huntsMann."
   "JagrMeister."
   "HuntsMaster, yes.  What have you read?"
   "All of them, since you came.  You make my cousin very happy."
   "You know this?"
   "You asked what I heard."
   "How old are you?"
   "A dozen, old enough to ride, in fair weather, and to hunt."
   "In that?" He laughed.
   "Of course not, I saw you fighting Sean.  The Armaster?  What is that,
large saber?"
   "GrossMesser?"
   "You cut off his shield with.  That is, a greatKnife?"
   "Yes, it is."
   "I wish I could fight thus, but the men fight for me.  Or like Milne. 
Does she truly fight that way?"
   "You read all of her letters?"
   "The ones you brought?  Yes, while you pleased my cousin." Imagining
what that must be like, fur Milne, she is not much older.  "Do you truly
have Philatori, where you are from?"
   "Where did you read that?"
   "I told you, her letters." They sound very exciting, "I am unmarried,
not even promised."
   "Is that." He stopped, looked around, "Why not?"
   "3rd daughter, not enough Dukes?"
   "What do you, propose of me?"
   "My escort, will come for me, in spring."
   "Yes?"
   "It is cold here, and quiet, you came over the snow."
   "It is not so cold here, I komme from the mountains, this winter is mild
to me."
   "Well, it is cold to me, I may need someone, to keep me warm on the
way."
   "To where?"
   "Calais?"
   "Well, I sailed from there, would you like an escort to Calais."
   "Or Bristol, we could stay there, ist much nicer than here.  I have
arranged it, but my uncle said I should ask you."
   "He tying to get rid of me?"
   "He tried to get his mann, Seam to kill you."
   "He did not try enough," he laughed.
   "Sie Philatori, they mentor boys?"
   "Traditionally." He scrubbed my hair, "But I am not a traditional
Philator.  I would have to ask your father, in Calais."
   "Mine mutter, she is Burgundich."
   "Well, I am not of the house of Alberich."
   I know.  "You are common born."
   "Yes, but working on.  A promotion."
   "They would try to kill you for asking."
   "That would put us at an impasse."
   "Not if you don't take me to Calais."
   "You don't like it there, either."
   "I don't like my family, they don't let me do anything."
   "You are afraid of them?"
   "Of them, finding out what I have done."
   "What is this?"
   "You know the smithSon."
   "I met him?"
   "Yes, I went fishing with him."
   "And."
   "And, it was cold out on the lake." All night.  "We could had no fire."
   "Ah."
   "Yes.  It hurt, but.  We kept eachother warm."
   "I understand."
   "So, you don't have to worry, about protecting my virtue.  But if they
ask, you do."
   "I understand."
   "Kommen, let's go talk to my uncle."
   "I should tell him, I am taking you to Calais?"
   "Ja."
   "Da."
   "Yes?"
   "It is said: 'Da'."
   "Oh, Da."
   "After you, mine Lady"
   "Where could you take me?"
   "Where would you like to go?"
   "Bern, Interlaken, deNeuchatelSee?"
   "Neufzatel."
   "Neuf."
   "ZatelSee."
   "NeufzatelSee."
   "Gut."
   "Danken."
   "I do not have to go back."
   "To Bern?"
   "To anywhere, your cousin has a courior, ready to go."
   "Oh."
   "I was thinking, die interSe'en."
   "Wherem der?"
   "Varum.  Varum dir."
   "Varum dir?"
   "De Eiberin, your Latan Loqui?  My Romansch, they hast Portusch,
Gigraller, Moorishe ist keine."
   "I understand, good.  Yes, die Intersee."
   "Then Roma, Siscilia, Candia."
   "Kretes!?"
   "Yes, maybe Pori."
   "Oh, Ja.  Da!"
   "Warum is ein Uncle?"
   "The Jarl?"
   "In his study."
   "Thanks, back to your work."
   "Contessa..."
   ;
   {Werkin onit...  Oh yeah, and this goes slower, because unlike
contemporary fiction, or SF Worldbuilding, I have to keep taking breaks for
research.  Especially translating between cultures.  If you're following
along, it'll give you a chance to search stuff like Anglo-Saxon basket-hilt
Hanger, Targe, Boar Spear Estoc, Bec du Corbin, Lucerne Hammer, Pollaxe
(Note speling) unless you're a late middle-ages armsNerd like me.  There's
a warhammer/estoc rest not unlike what he's dialing in on, for his Swiss
Arming Sword.}
   ;
  
The Good Parts (Milne)