Cultivating Anthro CEO RPG Hero Harem Reincarnation In Another World - Chapter 185

Elias remained behind on the island after his former crew had left, and took to sticking to me not unlike a flea on a rooster’s arse. Through which, I learned he was actually only a year older than I—despite his toughened older appearance and seeming superior wealth of worldly experience; that he hailed from a faraway continent called The Dukedom of Fralia.

“It rings a bell,” I said to him just after he had first made mention of his homeland; on a morning when we were standing side-by-side on the bluffs, gazing out across the limitless horizon.

At once Elias instantly reared at me, as though offended.

“Heard of us?” he said in a sneering manner, smirking with what I would later come to recognize as pride. “I should think so! Fralia is only the most powerful naval force in all of Metus! Why, there was a time in history—not so long ago—when the Fralian fleet had all but conquered the entire world!”

“So I’ve heard,” I said, recalling as much from my history lessons, feeling the same wide-eyed curiosity as I did then. “What has changed, then? Why weren’t they successful?”

Elias walked toward the edge of the bluff, eyes narrowing, hands falling into the pockets of his beige-colored breeches.

“The age of navies winning wars is done.”

Within the contemplative silence that ensued: as much as I tried not to, I couldn’t help but notice his strongly toned legs, and perfectly sculpted—ahem—rear end: both suggestive of him being an athlete of some distinction, likely equestrian in nature, as well as a warrior: with his gleaming silver rapier perched at his side; and his long, frolicking mane of blonde curls flowing gracefully with the easterly sea breeze. To me, looking every bit like an image of a knight torn straight out of a fairy tale.

I was naive to think this, of course, but small wonder: I hadn’t any notion men could be created of such a self-evidently noble constitution; not since my father had left this world, of whom I had always held in some high regard within my mind, though my memories of him may be vague beyond mere sentiments.

Being that I was fairly enraptured with the man, I unconsciously ignored a fair number of signs, appearing quite early on, that not all was as it seemed with this foreign beauty…

When he hangs his gorgeous head at the bar, while I am on duty, it is seldom without a drink in hand. And thusly, when he is fully intoxicated, he is prone to huge outbursts and braggadocious showings—regaling all who would care to listen with increasingly far fetched stories of his lifetime of swashbuckling adventure, starting from since he was a mere boy: “taken in by pirates, charmed by his wit, after they’d sunk his uncle’s frigate,” and taught fencing by the captain, as well as the parts and laws of a ship.

On some instinctive level, I could already sense that all this strutting about like a peacock, with feathers on full display, was meant as a show: to impress me, and only myself—what an idea!

After all, surely, I was nothing quite so pretty as to warrant such brazen attempts at romantic wooing…was I not? As a plain, if not dull, terribly unspecial girl: One with shoulder-length wavy brown hair imparted with an unappealing ruggedly dry and tough texture, which I normally kept tied in a likewise unattractive old woman’s bun; possessing the lightly sun-browned complexion of a peasant girl, dressed in ugly sackcloth rags; weak and malnourished, anxious and soft-spoken to a fault…

What possible aspect of a measly, insignificant being such as myself, then, could a man find interest in?

“You’re living in that house upon the hill, aren’t you?” he questioned me one day whilst he was still thankfully sober, grinning as he leaned his elbow against the bar counter while I was idly cleaning a mug with a piece of rag.

The question had caught me off guard, as I stood there silently blinking at him.

“Umm…yes,” came my meek, flustered response—eventually—as I stopped my hand from its prior task and unconsciously lowered my head, blushing madly.

“Truly?” he said, switching to a serious look. “But isn’t that place in ruins?”

“Before the storm, it was quite grand.”

“And you live in that wreck all by yourself?!”

“Yes, and for several years now.”

“Incredible!” He said, sloping his head over the counter, his eyes widening in interest. “An island girl who speaks like a noblewoman, holing up in the ruins of an old manor? I should like to see the place up close!”

Biting my lip, I was hesitant to provide my answer, as it was then I recalled that some person, at some juncture in my life—whether it was Miss Mercia, or mother or father, I could not distinctly recall—had warned me about being too permissive when dealing with overly presumptuous men. A lesson I thought wise to adhere to, even disregarding the fact I had thus far already caught brief flickers of the darker shade of Elias’s humanity: enough to know that, beneath his princely veneers, there dwelled a stewing cauldron.

“Why are you…always around me?” I finally mustered the courage to ask. “Like a second shadow, I can’t seem to rid myself of you.”

To which he blinked, putting on an innocent face. “Hm? I cling to you because I cherish your company. No offense, but there’s an inordinate population of lowlifes on this island.” He grinned. “Milady should be flattered to know she is an exception.”

Well, I couldn’t deny he had a point.

My home was a cesspit of transient sea criminals: pirateers, runaways and outlaws alike; as well as simple—albeit honest, hardworking—locals besides.

No doubt, the flamboyant princeling was feeling like a fish out of water!

“How long do you intend to remain here, then? Surely you have family awaiting news of your safety.” I asked, fixing him with an amused grin as I bent forward, resting my chin on my propped palm.

He gave a small laugh. “It all depends if another crew will take me. Perhaps never.” He shrugged. “Who can say?”

“Best make yourself appealing,” I joked.

“And what of you, island girl? If you like, I could have you tie up your hair, rub some dirt on your face, pretending to be one of my mates. Then you could join me—uh”—he interrupted himself—”so long as you’d be willing to work, and unafraid to share a hammock.”

“Odd…” I said, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “Do crewmen generally sleep together, or is it just you? I’m not judging—simply curious, is all.”

He winked. “For milady, I would make an exception.”

My breath caught in my throat—what a cad!

He bares his fangs to me openly! Although, really, as one who considered herself a gentle-lady, I should have been more put off by such uncouth boldness; and yet…I felt my resistance crumbling underneath his beautiful, clever gaze.  The lights of my logic were growing more and more dim under the shade of his increasingly unsubtle advances. Something…was awakening in me, regardless of my outward protest: “Brute! Forget this foolish plan of yours!” I issued sharply as my retort, tossing the rag I’d been using to wipe the mug at his unsuspecting face. “You’re a damned ass, to even suggest such a thing!”

He laughed, making me feel all the more embarrassed by my outburst. Other patrons watched, smiling and laughing too.

I see, now, as I’m looking back, it’s because they all knew what I hadn’t: that I was being betrayed, by my very own bodily chemicals—whilst knowing, beyond doubt, Elias was taking notice of this and every other exchange where I had grown shy and flustered; diligently keeping score of his victories, as he awaited the perfect opportunity for when I was vulnerable enough that he could deal forth the killing blow. Even though, not so secretly, I was loving every moment of our time spent together. And little did I know just how correct my instincts were, when I had ultimately caved—gone against my shrewd better judgment—and invited him to my abode. A decision which seemed to serve as a great source of esteem to the bullheaded young man with whom I had so quickly and treacherously fallen for.

“I really believe it is fate that has brought us together,” Elias murmured to me with a handsome, husky growl to his voice when I told him, that caused me to shiver like a leaf.

I had caved—gone against my better judgment—and invited him to my abode.

We were walking there, side by side, along a lonesome dirt trail through the jungle. A road which travelled between the hill upon which my home stood sentinel and the village, leading to no other civilization. I’d never walked this way before with company, and certainly not under the present circumstances. I was scared and exhilarated. Above all, I was curious to see where this road would take me today: as there were plenty of young men around my age in the village, but none that had struck my fancy. Not like Elias had: entering into my life, suddenly, and simultaneously snatching it from me in but one fell swoop.