The tavern was packed and loud, it was the kind of place where the floor stuck to your boots;Smoke from cheap pipes hung in the air, mixing with the smell of ale and sweat.
Ragnar sat near the back with his broad back against the wall, one heavy boot resting on the Chair across from him. Even sitting down, he took up space. At six-foot-five with thick muscle packed across his frame, he looked more like a laborer than what most thought a proper knight should look like.
His red hair was messy from running his hand through it, and his tanned skin glistened faintly under the dim lighting.
He lifted his Tankard and took a long drink, the ale sliding down his throat easily. He was already on his Sixth cup but he wasn't drunk enough to stop thinking.
"Fucking fat pig," he muttered.
Baron Elias Varnholt. That weak, soft, greedy bastard. The man couldn't fight his way out of a wet sack, yet he sat comfortably in his keep while real men did the actual work on the border. Ragnar had watched good men, soldiers die for a lord like him.
It made his blood boil every time he thought about it.
He set the tankard down and leaned back, letting his eyes wander across the tavern.
His thoughts drifted, as they often did when he drank.
The Baron's daughters had been on his mind again lately.
Isabella was a bitch. Tall, blonde,Lithe and walked around like the world owed her something but she had a sensual walk that caught his attention. He hated that she looked at him like he was filth but Lilia… that one was different.
Short and curvy with a pair of heavy tits and wide hips that made it hard not to stare when she walked by. Eighteen years old and built like she was made to bear children.
Ragnar shifted in his seat as his cock gave a slight twitch at the thought…his thoughts drifted to Elowen.
She was the reason he was in this shitty land serving this shitty Lord.
The Duke's youngest daughter.
Dark skin, white hair, golden eyes big lips perfect for sucking dick;She'd been the one to start it that night.
She Came to him with that haughty look on her face, acting like she was doing him a favor by even speaking to him. Then one thing led to another, and before he knew it he had her bent over in one of the empty rooms, fucking her deep stretching her out while she tried to keep quiet.
The next morning as if she regretted the action or been caught she lied through her teeth and said he raped her.
The only reason he wasn't executed was due to being the Top graduate from the knight academy in the capital.
Ragnar's jaw tightened at the memory, but even now, thinking about how tight she felt around him and how she'd clenched up when he'd cum inside her was enough to make his cock start to harden again.
He let out a low breath and adjusted himself under the table.
"Fucking noble bitches," he muttered.
He picked up his tankard again and drank deeply. The more he thought about his situation, the more restless he became. Serving a weak piece of shit lord. No real future. No power.
He was a waste man, who spent his time drinking and fucking whatever woman was willing in this shitty little territory.
It was getting old.
He wanted more.
But right now, what he needed was a warm cunt to sink into.
Ragnar finished his drink and signaled for another one,Ragnar downed another tankard without really tasting it. The alcohol was starting to hit harder now, but instead of making him sleepy, it only made the restlessness in his body worse.
He shifted in his seat again, his cock already half-hard It had been a few days since he last fucked anyone, and the longer he sat there drinking, the more aware he became of the heat building in his gut.
His eyes kept drifting toward the the brunette with the fat ass ,the one he'd fucked a couple of months ago.
She was carrying a tray near the front, bent over slightly to place drinks on a table, and Ragnar's gaze locked onto the way her skirt stretched over her wide hips and thick thighs.
He remembered how that ass looked when he had her bent over a barrel behind the tavern. Soft, heavy, and perfect for gripping creaming all over half his dick.
His cock twitched again, growing thicker against his thigh.
"Fuck…" he muttered under his breath.
He kept drinking.
The more he drank, the less he cared about holding back. His mind kept circling back to the same thing warm skin, soft tits, a tight cunt squeezing around him. He didn't even care which girl it was at this point. He just needed to bury himself in someone and fuck the frustration out of his system.
His gaze moved to another girl the a new one with a smaller frame but surprisingly large breasts that bounced every time she walked. He'd caught her staring at him a few times before. She always got flustered and looked away quickly.
Ragnar smirked to himself.
She'd probably be easy.
He could already picture it ,grabbing those big tits while he fucked her from behind in the restroom, making her moan loud enough for the whole tavern to hear. Or maybe he'd take her outside, push her against the wall, and lift one of her legs so he could drive his dick in as deep as possible.
The thought made his cock throb harder.
He adjusted himself under the table again, not bothering to be subtle about it. A few of the girls noticed and quickly looked away, but the brunette he'd already fucked just rolled her eyes with a small smile, like she knew exactly what was on his mind.
Ragnar finished his current drink and slammed the tankard down.
He was getting too worked up sitting here alone.
His body was hot,the alcohol was making him bolder than usual. He didn't feel like going back to his room and jerking off like some pathetic bastard;He wanted a woman.
And he wanted one now.
Ragnar pushed his chair back and stood up. For a moment he just stood there, tall and broad, scanning the tavern with slightly unfocused eyes. Then, without much thought, he stepped up onto the table.
The wood creaked loudly under his weight.
A few conversations nearby died down as people turned to look.
Ragnar didn't care.
"Hey!" Ragnar called out loudly, his voice rough and carrying across the tavern. "You! The one with the fat ass! Yeah, you. Come here."
The girl froze for a second before slowly turning around. A few people nearby chuckled. She gave him a look that was half annoyed, half amused.
"I'm working," she yelled at him not moving from her spot trying to sound firm.
"So?" Ragnar grinned, not moving from atop the table. "You weren't working that hard when I had you bent over, railing you last time. Come on, I'm in a good mood and it misses you."
The girl's face turned red. She enjoyed her time the last time even if it was rough, ragnars dick was so thick it hit all her weak spots with ease.
Ragnar's cock gave another heavy twitch in his pants at the memory, growing thicker and making the bulge even more obvious. He didn't try to adjust it this time.
He turned his attention to another girl the new one with the big tits who was trying very hard to avoid looking in his direction.
"You too," he said, pointing at her. "Don't act shy now. I've seen you staring. Both of you can come , I've got more than enough to go around."
A few soldiers laughed. Some of the older men shook their heads. The tavern was used to Ragnar's behavior when he was drunk, but he was being especially loud tonight.
The brunette finally started walking toward him, shaking her head like she couldn't believe she was actually going over. The newer girl stayed frozen in place, her face burning.
Ragnar watched them both with a hungry look in his eyes, his cock now fully hard and straining heavily against the fabric of his pants. The thick and long outline was impossible to miss.
He was just about to say something else when he took a step forward on the wet table.
His boot slipped.
"Fuck—!"
Ragnar's massive body lurched violently the alcohol slowed him down and his reaction to himself falling wasn't quick enough.
His head slammed hard into the corner of another table as he went down.
There was a sharp, ugly crack.
Pain exploded through his skull.
For a second, everything went white.
Then black.
When his consciousness returned, he was lying on the dirty tavern floor. His head was throbbing and something warm was running down the side of his face. Blood. He could feel it but he didn't move a muscle.
Something was happening inside his head.
Memories that didn't belong to him came rushing in all at once.
It was the memories of another life.
There he Trained in different martial arts until his muscles burned in his free time , day to day, he worked in construction under the sun his hands were rough and calloused more so then even his own as a knight.
He spent Late nights reading Fantasy novel's and History about wars, empires, and men who built kingdoms with nothing but will.
His life was similar in many ways specifically how he spent a lot of time on Women and Drinking.
He was frustrated in that life; living in a world where real conquest no longer existed.
In this dirty tavern he remembered his past life.
Every detail. Every battle he had studied. Every speech from great commanders. Every lesson.
Ragnar's eyes stayed half-lidded as the flood continued. His breathing was slow and heavy.
The frustration he had felt all night serving a weak, fat baron, wasting his life in this shitty territory suddenly felt much heavier now that he knew the feats of others.
He began to compare himself to what real power looked like.
The tavern noise slowly came back into focus around him. Someone was calling his name. A hand touched his shoulder. He could hear worried voices, but they sounded distant.
Ragnar just lay there, staring up at the ceiling while his mind kept sorting through everything that had returned to him.
The memories didn't stop.
They kept coming.