This is a short story submitted by my good friend Squizz. I hope you enjoy.
“His hair is looking a little off, it’ll be time for the purge soon”, said the low born villager. “You must not be frightened darling. It’ll be over quicker than you know” said his wife. “I shall always fulfill my duty to my Lord, from this day, until my last day, he can have however much of my semen he requires”, he replied. It was a clear, cool day outside and a line of wagons were seen in the distance, traveling toward the village. He knew what they were after.
Every so often the Lord of Camel Hills traveled to the villages on the outskirts of his castle walls to acquire something quite peculiar, in order to fulfill a tradition dating back thousands of years in his bloodline. The tradition kept the villagers loyal, and the manes of House Stronghair elite.
The Lord Samuel of Camel Hills came riding clutching a list. A list with the names of enemies, enemies to have a known hatred for House Stronghair. These would be the gentlemen to fill his casks with the ingredient necessary to carry on the legacy of the one thing House Stronghair had always been known for – a capable, voluptuous head of hair.
“Where’s your father?!” He said upon entering the hut of the first enemy on the list. “Bring him to me at once” The Lord did not like to ask twice. The young man cowered. He knew the stories, had seen the wagons carrying casks through the villages. He regretted speaking out against the Lord immediately. He knew the shame his father was about to endure.
His father appeared in the doorway of the hut. He knew what this meant, he had seen the Lord’s wagon outside his door. “Good day, My Lord. How may I help you?” The Lord glared back with a look of mischievous glee. “Empty your stock so that I may begin filling mine” he said, pointing at the cask on the hut floor. The father did as he was told.
“Milk it! Milk it! Yelled the Lord in a booming, angry sounding voice. The father began to sulk, all the while continuing his unwanted mission. The Lord’s enjoyment of it was making him feel very uneasy. “Milk it! Milk it! You must pay for what your son has done!” he bellowed. The father finished, and with that, completed the mission as well. The Lord signaled to his servant to load the cask back into the wagon. “I shall hope from now on, every time you see a Stronghair stroll by, take a look at his hair, and remember the pain your son has caused you. You must teach the boy to respect House Stronghair, or it is his semen I will be coming for next.”