Return Of Magic: The Rogue Teuton, Section 1: The Tome Of Severius The Roman Part II free porn video
Return of Magic: The Rogue Teuton, Section 1:
The Tome of Severius the Roman Part II
By SsiRuuk25
The morning came to soon for Larisa. She had lain awake
last night for several hours, unable to cry, yet unable to
get to sleep. When she finally did, her sleep was filled
with nightmares. Finally, early in the morning, the
nightmares stopped and Larisa was able to sleep peacefully.
Then the sun shone in through the barred window of her
cell, shining right in her eyes. Larisa tried to stay
asleep, but was unable to. And when she awoke, she looked
around her cell and sighed. Looking down at herself again,
she examined herself more carefully. It had been a long
time since she had been this close to a woman. A noise at
the door attracted her attention.
"So, you are awake, and early too. Good," Sir Wilson, who
was standing at the door, said looking at her. He was in
his armor, the same, Larisa thought, as he had been in last
night. Her memory was foggy, however, and it was hard to
tell.
"I have brought you a change of clothes, a mirror, and some
toiletries," he said, extending a wrapped parcel through
the iron bars of her door. Larisa cautiously stepped
forward and grasped them. She muttered a thank you to Sir
Wilson.
"You are welcome, Madam Larisa. I will leave you now so
that you may get ready, but hurry. I will return soon," he
said, in his formal, stiff manner. He then turned and left.
Larisa opened the parcel, and took out the items and placed
them on her bed. She took the mirror and looked into it.
The face she saw was not even remotely the one she had
grown up with, not the almost disfigured yet kindly face
that had been Larry Faulkner. The face was pretty, in a
plain sort of way, pleasant. Not astonishing though. And
unlike all the female knights she remembered seeing last
night, her expression was not sharp, hard, as if carved
from stone. It was warmer, friendlier. Combining this with
what she knew about her body, she imagined herself as
plain, slightly pretty, but not stunningly beautiful. And
rugged. Larisa could feel the strength that remained in her
muscles from her former lifetime as a man.
Larisa shook of her daze, and began getting ready. She
changed her clothes, used the small toilet in the corner of
the room, an experience by itself. Using the mirror, she
made herself as presentable as possible. By the time she
was finished, Sir Wilson walked up to the door. He opened
it this time.
"Come Madam Larisa, it is time to begin your training," he
said, gesturing to Larisa for her to follow. She did
wordlessly.
They walked up numerous flights of stairs before reaching a
long corridor. As they began to walk through the maze of
corridors, she finally couldn't hold back any more of her
questions.
"What does training involve, Sir Wilson," she said, looking
at Sir Wilson with curiosity, as a curious student might
look at a teacher. His expression lightened from the stone
carved facade that had been there a minute before. He even
showed a small smile.
"The mornings involve physical training. Lifting, which I
suppose won't be too much of a problem for you," he said,
eying Larisa expertly, "There is also agility training.
Then an hour before noon, there is lunch. Then four hours
of weapons training. Then an hour for dinner. Next, there
are four hours of classes: Mathematics, Literature,
History, Chemistry, and Physics. Then there are three hours
of special classes, classes to teach you to use your
powers, then you are returned to your barracks," he
finished, somehow navigating the various passages.
"Uh, barracks," Larisa asked. "I thought we lived out in
the world."
"You will, once most of your training is complete. Until
then, you are to live in a barracks, sharing a room," Sir
Wilson replied.
"Okay," she said hesitantly. "When do morning classes
start?"
"At seven, but I want you to see you room and meet you
roommate first. You will follow them to class," he said,
anticipating some of Larisa's next questions.
"What is my roommate's name?"
"Petra, Petra Edwards. And we have arrived," Sir Wilson
said.
He had just opened a heavy wooden door. Immediately inside
was a door leading into a room with a desk inside, visible
through the numerous and large windows gazing out into the
hallway. The hallway itself was studded at regular
intervals by doors, presumably into individual rooms.
"This," Sir Wilson said, gesturing down the hallway, "is
the barracks. All our trainees stay here until their
training is finished. You are to stay in room seventy-six.
You have approximately one hour until you will be led to
begin your training. Good day, Madam Larisa."
And with that, Sir Wilson turned on his heels and walked
back into the labyrinth of passageways. Larisa turned to
face the long hallway. She cautiously began walking down
the hallway. The numbers started at one, so it took Larisa
a while, at her cautious pace, to finally make it to room
seventy-six. She reached out to the handle to open the
door, when the door opened suddenly. A young woman, with
hardened features similar to the ones he had seen on the
knights last night, during her transformation. The thought,
in passing, occurred to her that she had paid inordinately
little attention to that small fact. But it disappeared
quickly. Larisa was left facing the young woman in the
doorway.
"You're Larisa, right," asked the woman with a smile on her
face. She was shorter than she was, and wasn't as wide as
Larisa, but she obviously had muscle.
"Yeah, I'm Larisa," she said, looking distrustfully at the
woman.
"Well, I'm your roommate, Petra Edwards. I was told
yesterday that you would be my roommate. Come in, your
bed's over there," the woman said, walking back
energetically to the bed she had not pointed to, in the
side of the room that was, by its disorder, obviously
occupied. Larisa walked towards her own bed. It was soft
and warm.
"You know," Petra said, cheerfully and full of energy,
which seemed to be her natural state, "I've been opening
that door all morning because I thought it was you. You
know, practicing my sensory spells and the like. Oh wait,
you haven't trained at all yet, so you wouldn't know..."
"How long have you been here," Larisa asked to keep Petra
from going off on what seemed sure to Larisa to be a long,
frenetic monologue.
"Not long, just over a week," she said, sitting as still as
it appeared she could. A question all of a sudden occurred
to Larisa.
"Aren't you disturbed by your transformation? It was only a
week ago for you," she asked. Petra seemed to freeze as she
stopped to think. Then she spoke, as if confused.
"You know, now that you mention it, and I'm not queer or
anything, but it hasn't bothered me that much. Not much at
all. That's strange..."
The room was silent for a few moments as both considered
the matter. But it seemed as if it was hard to hold on to
that particular train of thought for any period of time.
Petra returned to her energetic self rather quickly, and
began agitating again. Larisa decided to put the matter
aside for now. She was curious.
"What is training like," Larisa asked, not satisfied with
the answers that an all of a sudden cooperative Sir Wilson
had given her.
"Well, first we lift for two hours. They'll start low with
you, but the weight increases quickly. Then there is
'agility training', which is gymnastics and stuff like
that. That's two hours. Then there's an hour for lunch,
then four hours of weapons training. You know, learning how
to use a sword, a bow and arrow, a staff, and hand-to-
hand."
"There's no weapons involved in hand-to-hand though,"
Larisa said with a smile. Petra smiled back.
"Ah, but aren't your hands weapons themselves. An old
Teutonic idea I guess."
"Teutonic," asked Larisa, confused by the term.
"Yeah, you know, as in Teutonic Knights, the order you are
a member of. What, you didn't even get that much. Boy, you
must really have been willing."
Looking back, Larisa decided she had been rather rash.
Though Sir Wilson had seemed completely honest, and had
made certain good guarantees, he hadn't told her much. And
while what he had told her had been true, it had been
skewed. What was it Obi Wan had said in Return of the Jedi,
Larisa thought, about truth depending greatly upon one's
point of view? In the meantime, Petra had continued, not
waiting for Larisa to leave her reverie.
"After that, there's dinner for an hour. Then there is four
hours of schooling: Math, History, English, Chemistry and
Physics. Then there is spell training."
"Spell training?"
"Oh, boy, they really told you nothing. They'll teach you
how to cast some spells. Spells for healing, sensory
enhancement," Petra listed, ticking them off on her
fingers. "Strength, confusion, and a whole bunch of
others."
"You mean magic," Larisa said, almost ready to laugh.
"Yeah, I guess you could say that. But don't laugh. How do
you think I could tell you were coming? I used a spell to
make my hearing more sensitive. And it's not like it's all
poof and there it is. You'll hear in history about the
Micesriks, very nasty people. Evil and all. They thought
they were so powerful. Anyway, the Micesriks claimed that
spellcasting was just an indirect way of drawing on what
they called the Natural Power. It had some ancient name,
and no one uses that one, which is the literal translation
or something. Now it's mostly called the life-force, just
because of he way they described it."
Larisa sat back and tried to absorb it all. Magic, life-
forces, and evil 'Micesriks' was a lot. Petra just
continued.
"Yeah, the Micesriks were pretty nasty people. That's why
we helped the Hospitlars and Templars to destroy them.
They're dead now. Good riddance."
"Hospitlars and Templars," Larisa asked.
"Yeah, they're spellcasters, too. But they aren't as strong
or noble as the Teutonic Knights."
"Next you'll be telling me there are wizards," Larisa said,
trying to cope with it all. It was a lot after all.
"Nah, no wizards. We'd know if there were. They ARE just
legend."
After she said that, a knocking came at the door. The clock
on the wall showed that it was a quarter until seven in the
morning. Petra got up, and walked to the door. She gestured
for Larisa to follow her.
"Come on, training time." And thus, Madam Larisa Faulkner's
first day in training to become a Knight of the Teutonic
Order began.
The lifting proved easy for Larisa, her strength remaining
undiminished since her transformation from the very strong
Larry. She was quickly lifting as much as any one else
there. Her strength had shocked all the other trainees. No
one else even came close. The knights who served as
instructors didn't look too surprised however. Then they
got to agility training. It was gymnastics. And though the
transformation had given Larisa a more lithe and agile
body, it was untrained, and so she trained individually
with an instructor. She would catch up, but it would take
time. Lunch flew by. Larisa had lost track of Petra, and so
sat alone while everyone else was talking with friends.
Chewing her food alone, Larisa looked over the other
trainees. There were about two hundred of them. From the
morning, she knew that they were in various states of
training. None had been training more than six weeks, and
Larisa got the sense that there would be several months of
training. Then she noticed something else. Their faces,
their expressions, were all stiff, carved. It was odd.
Larisa seemed unique in that area. Even Petra's face looked
very serious, though not as much when she laughed. Thinking
about her roommate, Larisa mulled on Petra's expressions.
Her naturally joyful, absentminded expressions were oddly
juxtaposed onto a serious face. Very odd.
Lunch ended and weapons training began. Only in hand to
hand combat was Larisa able to stay with her fellow
trainees. Her raw strength allowed her to tag along, but
not easily. Her comrades moved fast, and were agile. Larisa
wasn't. Then there was dinner, and Larisa sat alone again
at dinner, and again thought on the past day's events. She
remembered the dilemma about not being too disturbed on
having her gender reversed. She had managed to ask a few
others during the day about that during spare moments when
she thought of doing so. Like Petra, none had even
considered the matter. A very confusing situation. Could it
be a spell, Larisa thought. But her thoughts were
interrupted again. It was time for class.
Larisa had a great deal of catching up to do here. Her
education had never been very good, but there was the
promise of remedying this fact fairly quickly. Math was
first, followed by Physics, Chemistry, English, and finally
History. Larisa wasn't too badly off here. He had always
had an interest in history, and it was here that he had
done much of his reading. But, while he wasn't behind, he
wasn't ahead either. The lecture was very interesting. One
could even say it was magical.
"Shall we begin," said the instructor, an elderly man,
dressed in armor as with all the knights. "Today, picking
up from my brief summary yesterday, we will discuss the
orders of magic. Much of the ancient past is obscure, yet
it is much clearer to us than it is to the rest of the
world, to the other spellcasters, or to what the Micesriks
thought they knew." This last was snarled, in contempt.
"The first magic users were ancient shamans. Right from the
jungle, they knew of magic. Some say that such knowledge is
derived from more animistic ideas. In any case, men knew
magic from the start. And when men became civilized, those
who knew of magic split into two groups: the spellcasters
and the Micesriks.
"The Micesriks were dark-hearted, used powers of evil
descent. With this, they had a slight edge. The
spellcasters were born of the light. Yet, for centuries,
the two orders managed to live in peace. Early on, those
who would later become the Teutonic Knights began to
separate from the spellcaster order. Eventually it split.
"The tale of this split, that of good Sir Tremus, will be
told when we delve into a more detailed study of history.
In the meantime, it is enough to know that the Teutonic
Knights became a third order of sorts. Thus, the talk of
three orders. And so history continued for many, many
centuries, until a particularly evil Micesrik, a Master
known only as the Evil Master, took control of their order.
"He created a ruse whereby he was made to look like a
rogue. The Micesriks appeared to have split. And at the
Battle of the Four Orders, the Evil Master was slain by the
heroic Sir Ruman. The Micesriks, however, were able by the
narrowest margins to claim victory. But the world knew it
was they who were evil, and they were forced into hiding.
Meanwhile, the Teutons became more and more independent.
They finally split completely from the spellcaster order.
The Hospitlars and Templars did so later. There are also
other, smaller, orders. But they are weaker, and less
noble. For their victory, we spellcasters hated the
Micesriks. Though the Hospitlars and Templars, weaker and
less resilient, let the Micesriks have some peace, the
Teutons never did!
"It was we, for over three thousand years, who kept them in
check. And, when the time came, during the chaos of the
mid-twentieth century, the Teutons, with only token
assistance from the other spellcasters, crushed the
Micesriks, ending their evil order. Meanwhile..."
The talk went on for some time, about various other subject
related to the history of the orders, but it was the raw
history of the orders that interested Larisa the most. And
yet, there was something disturbing about it all. Something
about the story didn't, just didn't, feel right. By looking
at the faces of the others, she could tell no one else felt
the same way. At least not outwardly. But it disturbed her.
She just couldn't shake the feeling that something was
wrong.
History being the last of the academic classes of the
night, it was on to spell training. The experience was
novel. Like so many times that day, Larisa received
individual instruction. She began to slowly, over the three
hours of class, to learn about her own magical abilities.
Each step was exciting, if small. She knew she had a long
way to go, but though it was a long road, it was a very
exciting one.
Finally, well into the night, the trainees were allowed to
return to their rooms. Sleep came quickly to them all.
***
Three weeks later, Larisa had progressed far. In strength,
she was now second to none, even stronger than the men who
had been her equals when she had begun her training. She
was becoming more agile all the time. Her skills with the
bow and the staff grew, and her swordsmanship was becoming
especially strong. In hand-to-hand combat, Larisa could
hold her ground against most opponents, due to her great
strength and her improved ability. Her studies also came
along quite well. She was catching up, or caught up, in
every class. And spell training was exhilarating. She could
increase the sensitivity of her eyesight, hearing, and
smell greatly. She was capable of some limited healing, and
even knew one or two anticipatory spells. Things were
coming along well.
Lying in bed, thinking over things, Larisa came back to a
topic she thought about often. Why didn't she care that she
was a woman now, instead of the man she had been. She was
more attractive as a woman, but it hadn't helped her gain
many friends. In fact Petra was perhaps her only friend.
And though being a Teutonic Knight was a great experience,
it wasn't that great of an experience. Larisa relaxed, just
letting her mind wander. Then she felt it. It was as though
her thoughts were being clouded, interfered with. She shook
her head, but it didn't help.
Larisa sat up. Petra was long asleep, snoring. The clouded
sensation wouldn't go away. Clouded and confused. Confused,
Larisa thought. Petra had mentioned confusion as a spell,
hadn't she? The logical conclusion came quickly and easily,
and the confusion was swept away. They used spells to make
people more comfortable with the transformation. And,
Larisa realized, they interfered often. How often had she
simply forgotten what she was thinking, or simply been
unable to understand what she was thinking. They weren't
just trying to make us more comfortable, Larisa realized,
they were brain washing us!
Larisa couldn't believe it. Perhaps she had been gullible
and overwilling when she had joined, but this was above and
beyond! And she wasn't the only one. But why would the
knights want to brainwash them? What purpose? Larisa
couldn't quite figure that out, but she felt, all at once,
that she had to leave, and she had to leave now.
Larisa quietly left her room, traveled down the hallway,
passing the room that had many windows, which she had
learned was a lounge or conference room, depending upon the
occasion. Opening the door at the end of the hallway,
Larisa stepped out into the main passageway, part of a vast
labyrinth. It was very dark, but Larisa used a sensory
enhancement spell to allow her to see well. She didn't know
how to leave; she just knew she had to.
After what seemed like hours of walking through the maze,
Larisa decided to stop into one of the rooms off the
passageway. She chose one quite randomly, and stepped in.
It was dimly lit, and Larisa was able to see easily now. It
was a storage room, one that looked as though it hadn't
been touched in a while. She could rest in here, Larisa
thought. Just for a while. She was, after all, very tired.
The room was filled with a few weapons, a few crates, and a
great many books. Larisa closed the door, and sat down on
one of the crates. She prepared to take a small nap, but
her curiosity got the better of her. She began looking
though the books, most of them very big, very old looking,
to see if there was anything interesting. They were mostly
in English, even if the style were quite old.
There were copies of great works, like Shakespeare and
Dante, books on combat tactics and strategy, texts on
history, satires. All in endless numbers. Their titles were
very varied. There was one entitled 'The Fool Princes of
the East'. Another was entitled 'The History of the
Orders'.
Getting tired, Larisa picked up one last book, there didn't
seem to be any title, but there did seem to be an author.
His name was Severius the Roman. Larisa had never heard of
him. She prepared to put the book down, and turned away
from the door. Then she heard it open. And there, in the
doorway, was Sir Wilson, with several other knights
standing behind him. Larisa turned to face them, still
holding the text. Sir Wilson spoke.
"Well, Madam Larisa, it seems that you have gotten yourself
in a bit of trouble."
To Be Continued...
Jeannie
- 15.06.2021
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