As I massaged my aching legs after a day of training and working at the forges, Erickson’s face broke into a simpering smile.

  “What?” I asked, knowing another fatherly lecture was coming.

  “Sire, you have been working nonstop for weeks and it is beginning to show on your face. Someone your age should not have dark circles under their eyes,” said the irritating older man.

  I had indeed been running myself ragged with figuring out steel-making, testing weapons, training soldiers and revising procedures, but this wasn't the time to rest on my laurels.

  “Would you rather I be an idling fool who lazes about, doing nothing?”

  “No,” he replied. “But constantly worrying won’t change our future, only ruin your health.”

  “Oh, but it can,” I replied. “It keeps my mind on the lookout for what can be done to ensure we have a future. Until we have strong walls and enough food to weather a bad season or two, I don't think I can relax.”

  “There is nothing I can do to ease your burden? We have some mead, which you barely touch.”

  As if summoned by those very words, a serving girl appeared, all smiles and sweet mead. I forced myself to not ogle at her pretty face.

  Once she was gone, the smirking Lothar commented, “Our dear Supreme Leader is not a fan of drinking, but he is certainly a fan of women.”

  He flashed a knowing smile my way, while I sent him a threatening glare.

  He had caught me kissing one of the girls who were trying to catch my attention; her sitting on my lap and my hand on her curves. I hadn’t gone further, but I didn’t want Erickson to know even that much. Who knew how he would react.

  “Hmmm… I could make some inquiries if you are looking for a wife?” Erickson asked in a curious tone.

  “That would not be in the best interests of Chadom, Elder. I want to keep that option open for political advantage.” I sighed. “But who knows when it will happen. I also don't want to be alone until then either,” I admitted honestly.

  I cursed the young body I inhabited for the constant desire coursing through it, and a part of me that didn’t mind it. It wasn’t just lust though. I truly did want someone to share my inner world with.

  “Political advantage?” Erickson asked, while Lothar suppressed a snigger.

  “I see our people and this valley of ours getting quite prosperous. It would also make us a juicy fruit, ripe for plucking. We've all been working hard to make ourselves a very difficult target for subjugation, but in the end, we are only a few thousand people. A determined enemy, one willing to take considerable losses, could still break us. A chance for alliance via marriage might make our admirers… consider negotiation over violence. It’s not guaranteed, but it would be monumentally stupid of me to close our doors on an opportunity like that.”

  “Astute,” Lothar said, stifling a laugh, “or do you just want to build a harem?”

  “No, I'm not trying to build a harem!” I snapped at him. “I'm focused on our safety and prosperity. If there are any other benefits, those are just side effects.”

  “Sure, sure,” said the ass, sniggering.

  “Calm down.” Erickson chided. “A political marriage would be a good move, but your other desire won’t be well met by the people. I don't think any father would let his daughter debase herself, not even for you. We might be penniless, but the Cha are still a proud people. Also, it would give Elder Hyde fuel to turn everyone against you.”

  Lothar interjected before I could reply. “Jack, you really want something more than a playmate?”

  “I’m not going to ‘play’ seriously outside of a committed relationship,” I replied. “I will not risk a child being born from a fling. Every child deserves to have loving parents.”

  “Hmmm. How about a concubine, then? With legal rights. A wife in all but name?”

  I thought about it. “That could work.”

  It was fairly common for powerful men to have concubines here, so it shouldn't interfere with my plans for a political marriage.

  “What about all the girls who have set up tents around yours?” Erickson asked, with a hint of amusement in his voice.

  He knew. My face reddened.

  “While I appreciate their drive and attention, they don’t have much to offer beyond their looks. If I’m going to spend my life with a woman, I want more than just a bed-warmer.”

  “Look,” Lothar said, taking a deep swig of the mead. “The valley has been surveyed, with all entry points under watch. The palisade is almost done. We have a well trained force, which is being quickly equipped with those fantastic weapons of yours. Go meet some girls, or do you need help with that?”

  Before I could answer, he shouted to catch the attention of our server. “Hey missy!”

  “Stop! What are you doing?” I tried to shush him.

  “Trying to help you,” he smirked, and turned to face the young woman. “Are you married or spoken for?”

  “No, m’lord,” she replied.

  “Great!” Lothar grinned. “Our lord has been working harder than a mule for weeks, and doesn’t have much time to meet girls. If he keeps going this way, he will end up alone as an old man. Why don’t you two have a chat?”

  The poor girl blushed at his brazenness, so I took pity on her.

  “Pour yourself a cup, miss.” I told her and went to sit with her, far away from him.

  “So? How did your night go?” Lothar asked me the next day.

  “It didn’t work out.” I replied.

  “You’re too picky,” he complained. “She was cute.”

  “One should be, for a long term commitment. I’m not leaving a string of abandoned children behind.”

  Erickson smiled in response. “That is quite responsible of you, Sire. Are you certain you do not want to marry?”

  “We need to keep the option for an alliance open,” I emphasized.

  “Hmm. There are some young women of marriageable age in the settlement who are not wed yet, and might be open to such an arrangement. I will make some discrete inquiries.”

  That rang warning bells in my head. Individual autonomy wasn't something people cared about in these times. While the peasants weren’t as ruthless as nobles when it came to marriages, the family’s interests always superseded the girls’ opinions. They were coaxed and coerced in the name of duty and tradition. I might be a horndog, but I didn't want any girl to suffer a fate like that.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “Wait, wait, wait,” I exclaimed. “I have some conditions. The girl has to be willing, not being coerced by her parents or you. She can’t be younger than eighteen and not much older than me. I will want to meet and talk with each and every one of the candidates for some time before I choose one.”

  “That’s very kind of you,” Erickson replied. “Does she have to be older than seventeen, though? Most comely girls are either married or spoken for by that age.”

  “Hmm… You can consider young childless widows too.” I added.

  “I understand.”

  “Let me make those inquiries for you,” Lothar interjected. “The Council might fire you if they find out. They can’t fire me.”

  While they made arrangements, I reflected on my situation. I would have preferred to meet women organically, but I just didn’t have the time to pursue them, nor was prolonged dating a concept in these times. One slip up and I would be facing some very angry brothers and cousins. I might have taken clues from Jack’s interactions with women, but for some reason I couldn't remember many of them.

  Medieval-era arranged speed dating would have to do.

  ──────── ??? ────────

  Elsewhere that evening

  Aprilia unceremoniously entered the tent where Emma’s family slept and threw down her quilt.

  Looking at those sullen eyes, Emma knew not to crack any jokes, so she just kept her mouth closed.

  “Can I sleep next to you tonight?” Aprilia asked.

  “What happened?”

  “My parents won’t stop nagging,” she huffed and mimicked her mother’s voice. “‘It’s time you got married, Apri. No man will have you if you’re too old!’”

  “You are twenty-one.”

  “So?” she looked at Emma with narrowed eyes, daring her to contradict her.

  “Nothing,” Emma said quickly. “You can sleep next to me.”

  The next morning they were so shocked by the visit of the Lord General, they forgot to bow. Luckily he was a genial man, who smiled at their awkwardness, rather than take offense.

  “Good morning, girls.”

  “Good morning, Lord General!” they said in unison.

  “No need to be nervous. I just wanted to discuss something with Aprilia.”

  “M- me?”

  “Yes.”

  He took her aside and told her about the Supreme Leader’s offer.

  “What was that about?” Emma asked her the moment he left.

  “The Supreme Leader is seeking… a companion. Said he can’t marry as he wants to keep himself available for a political marriage. He’s invited eligible girls for a ‘date.’”

  “I’m sorry, Apri.” Emma said, putting a hand on her shoulder. Aprilia looked at her in confusion.

  “I know you like him. Seems he’s sampled one too many of Mia’s girls and now isn’t satisfied with just one.”

  Aprilia didn’t know what to feel. She did like him. He was one of the few men she admired.

  “Hey, it’s not like you lack for suitors.” Emma tried to console her. “You’re just too picky.”

  Aprilia jolted at the hint of jealousy in those words. A pox had marked Emma’s face. Not too much, but superstitious idiots weren’t willing to look behind her face. She hugged Emma from behind as she sighed.

  She didn’t say out loud that beauty came with similar issues. She was even willing to overlook her suitors' ogling, but most never moved past that phase. The scant few who did seemed to merely indulge her, as if she were a puppy. If they wouldn't take her seriously, she was happy to reciprocate.

  She was fine with the status quo, but the disappointment in her parents' faces was like a crushing grip. It’s not like she was against marriage, she just wanted some mutual respect. Was that too much to ask?

  Thinking about potential husbands, the first man that came to her mind was Lord Jack. A brave man who had risked his life for some refugees, while losing so much in the process. She hadn't seen much of him ever since he recovered, as he was working day and night; surveying the valley one day and training the soldiers the next.

  She had been working herself up to meet him and spend some time around him, so that maybe he would take notice of her, but the lecher had finally showed his true colors.

  “This is what I get for not acting sooner.” She chided herself.

  Still, being a concubine of the leader would have many advantages over being the wife of some random man, especially for her parents. Maybe he could treat her ailing father, and turn their fortunes around, or maybe she could change his mind about not marrying.

  Maybe he wanted more than a plaything, or maybe he was just like the other men who had tried to court her. Buffeted by such thoughts, she finally gave in and decided to meet him.

  ──────── ??? ────────

  The next day Lothar arrived with eight young women in tow, and a smug grin on his face. “Sire, these fair maidens have come to be considered for the position of your concubine.”

  “Eight?” I arched an eyebrow. “I thought there would be more.”

  “You wanted them to be at least eighteen,” he answered in a reproachful tone. “Most girls are married or spoken for by that age.”

  I looked at the young women and found my eyes drawn to two among them, who were a cut above the rest in the looks department.

  I interviewed each of them, one on one, to make sure they were there of their own volition and to gauge their personalities. Most of them had a hidden desperation of the poor, eyes that begged to escape their miserable lives. A part of me insisted I save them all, but sensibility prevailed.

  The first beauty had a face that even months of deprivation couldn’t mar. I noticed that her tunic was deliberately tied and cut just right to accentuate her figure. She approached me with a slight pep in her step, making her clearly bountiful bosom jiggle. I had to exert significant willpower to keep my eyes glued to her face. Noticing my wandering attention, her lips quivered in an attempt to hide a smirk.

  “Please, sit.” I said.

  She did, with the poise of a queen. Her answers were practiced, her gaze calculating. Beneath the charm, I could sense the entitlement that I remembered all too well, the kind that measured affection in coin and comfort. She was like some of the women from my time who would answer to what they brought to the table by saying they were the damn table; entitlement dressed as confidence.

  By the end of the conversation, I knew she wanted a title, not a partner.

  Entitlement was usually accompanied by ungratefulness and no amount of beauty was worth dealing with that crap. I was looking for a woman I wouldn't mind marrying, and she, unfortunately, very very unfortunately, definitely wasn't it.

  Damn.

  So I gave one last unabashed longing look at her glorious figure, and reluctantly dismissed her as a candidate.

  The next few were kind, simple, or frightened — all sincere, but none suitable.

  Then she walked in.

  Her slightly curly hair caught a gleam of brown in the lamplight, which also highlighted her cute face, adorned with plump rose bud lips. Her bust was modest compared to Miss Entitled, but even her simple tunic couldn’t hide the shape of her full, round hips as she approached me.

  I forgot about all that stuff the moment our eyes met. Her silver-gray eyes weren’t just beautiful, but controlled and calculating, lacking the simpering charm of the social climber. She seemed to be evaluating me as much as I was evaluating her.

  Finally, someone interesting.

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