In which Yuri reaches his destination
Yuri the Magnificent, beloved by
hundreds of women from Conqueror’s Bay to the borders of Irrisen, from the
Varisian Gulf to the foot of the Mindspin Mountains arrived at the gates of
Kaer Maga late in the afternoon - and completely naked.
Well, not completely naked. He still wore Anatalia’s delicate scarf
draped rakishly across his hips just low enough to cover his... ahem...
you know. It was the only thing other than his favourite whip that he’d had the presence of mind to take with him that fateful night a
week ago - and the only thing he cared to wear until he managed to get his
little... ah, problem fixed. His
nakedness and her scarf were a constant reminder of the horrible curse he laboured under and
he had vowed to himself that he would not wear another scrap of clothing until he was fully himself again.
He may be a horny, loosely moraled cad most of the time (and proud of it)
but even Yuri the wanderer; Yuri the seducer had a code of ethics, however
flimsy.
He stopped, bracing his legs apart
and planting his fists on his hips as he surveyed the imposing gates before him. A delicately curved, mousy woman ushered her small daughter past him, one
hand shielding the girl’s eyes as the mother darted shocked glance after
shocked glance in his direction. He
grinned at her, unable - and unwilling - to control the invitation in his smile. She was precisely the kind of woman who would
most benefit from his own gentle brand of ‘education’.
Too bad he could not give it.
He felt his self-esteem take an
unacceptable dip and began to move again, anything to keep himself from
thinking about his... inadequacy.
He found the Godsmouth Cathedral,
unsurprisingly, near a cemetery perched atop a tall cliff in the Bottoms.
It was an imposing structure; all sweeping spires, elegant arches and
delicate columns. He caught himself
comparing the building’s sinuous lines with those of a woman’s waist where it
curved around her hip and down along her thigh...
Longing filled him and he swallowed
it. He was Yuri the Magnificent. Yuri the Magnificent did not feel the lesser
emotions. In particular self-pity. It was useless and weak. Why feel sad when you looked as good as he
did? No, with looks like his he had no qualms about his ability
to charm the bookish men and women inside.
He grinned as he pushed his way
through the imposing, dark wood doors and into the cathedral. He’d be back to normal in no time.
