Release: "City of Gold."

[misslj_author]

Today is the release of the First Time For Everything daily dose anthology. To buy the whole anthology of some thirty stories, head on over this way. There's over 1,500 pages of fiction in the full collection.

My story, City of Gold is available over here for $1.49US.

Summary: Constantinople, capital of the Byzantine Empire, 1131 AD.

Gallienus has spent his life in service of his country, and now his scarred body is no longer up for the fight. Assigned to work the gates of Constantinople, he is charged with examining the cargo brought into the city from all over the world. Misahuen is part of the merchant train bringing wares from the Silk Road to trade, but it’s not Misahuen’s cargo that interests the wounded soldier. Gallienus thought his heart was too battered to love anything but his country. Does he have the courage to dream of a future beyond service to the City of Gold?

And for a small excerpt (Excerpt is PG rated; full story is NC17 rated for graphic m/m sex.):

THE day began just like any other. Gallienus, a veteran of the wars that had ended the previous year, in 1130, went to his postwar duties at the gates of Constantinople, the jewel in the crown of the Byzantine Empire. He limped up and down the lines of wagons carrying all manner of goods from the East for trade, inspected the packs and wagons, and waved merchants through to the city. He gave directions to the merchants’ quarter when necessary and detained those who were smuggling items prohibited by Emperor John Komnenos the Second. At midday, he ate a small meal and drank a tankard of ale with his fellow gate guards. He smiled ruefully as they talked about past wars and how lucky Gallienus was to have survived the violent conflicts with a limp and an ugly scar from a crossbow bolt to show for them. After the meal, he returned to his post by the gates, and the business of inspecting merchant pack trains resumed.

Yes, it was a day like any other, unremarkable, his routine unchanged. Gallienus expected this to be the way his life would continue until it ended. He knew he should be grateful to be alive and allowed to continue to serve the Empire, even as a lowly gate guard of Constantinople. He was grateful, but he was a soldier, trained to fight the enemies of the Empire, to march proudly beneath the standard of the golden eagle of Byzantium. He was not meant to be languishing here, checking cargo. He should be out with the rest of his men, the men who served with honor for the glory of the Empire.

It was nearing late afternoon when Gallienus’s day took an unexpected turn, a turn that would change his life forever. He was inspecting the goods of a merchant and his train from the Far East. The merchant said they had come from the city of Gyeongju, once the capital of the Kingdom of Silla. Gallienus nodded absently, only half-listening to the oddly accented Greek that the merchant spoke as he limped down the line of the pack train, inspecting the goods that the merchant had for trade. Gallienus’s hip was aching, as it often did toward the end of the day, another legacy of the injury that had seen him gently released from the Emperor’s armies and reassigned to this duty.

Pausing for a moment and taking a deep breath, forcing his mind not to dwell on the growing pain in his hip and leg, Gallienus looked down the line of horses and mules and a few camels. His gaze stopped, lingering on one person, a man who had emerged from behind a heavily laden mule. As Gallienus stared, the man approached and gracefully bowed low, and as he straightened, Gallienus could see there was curiosity in his handsome face.

“Is everything to your satisfaction, my lord?”

The voice of the merchant jerked Gallienus out of his reverie, and he flushed, turning away from the vision in front of him to nod at the merchant. “Yes. Everything’s fine.” As he turned back to face the man who had so transfixed him, Gallienus asked, “Have you been to Constantinople before?”

“Oh yes,” the merchant cheerfully answered as the object of Gallienus’s fascination gazed at him and shook his head slightly in the negative. “I have traded here many times over the years, my lord.” The merchant’s voice droned on and on as Gallienus and the other man gazed at each other, unmoving. It was only when the merchant lightly shoved the young man’s shoulder, to get him to move with the rest of the train as it slowly plodded through the gates and into the city of Constantinople, that Gallienus felt himself released from that captivating gaze.

“Misahuen, move,” the merchant said—not unkindly, Gallienus was relieved to hear. “We must find lodgings before dark.”

Gallienus turned as the merchant and the man—Misahuen—walked past him. “There is an inn to the west of the main square of the merchants’ quarter called The Grape Vine. Tell the owner that Gallienus Angelos sent you, and he will see to it that you and your men are well taken care of.”

The merchant bowed low. “Thank you, my lord, you are most kind.” He barked instructions to others of his men in a language that Gallienus did not understand, and Gallienus looked again at Misahuen.

“Thank you,” Misahuen said, bowing to Gallienus. “You honor us.” His voice was soft, rich, educated, and his Greek was flawless. Gallienus felt his cheeks color as his heart pounded within his chest.

Returning the bow, Gallienus answered, “No, thank you. It is I who am honored to serve.” The ritual phrase came automatically, although the sincerity with which Gallienus said it was not.

Misahuen’s lips curved upward in the faintest of smiles, and then he was gone, walking into Constantinople with the merchant and the rest of his pack train.

Gallienus groaned and closed his eyes, looking up at the sky to seek strength to finish his working day without rushing to see if the merchant had taken his advice about the inn… and to see Misahuen. He could not recall ever having been so mesmerized—and so quickly—by another person, male or female, in all of his life.