"The Heir Presumptive" (closed)

"Well?"

Kitts sat on a smooth log in the clearing before the cave, scooping the dinner stew with a hunk of dry bread while Zee did likewise beside him. Their guest had become the kids' favorite new play partner and, surprisingly, she'd quickly warmed up to their incessant attention. If only all kidnappings could be so easy. A little more dirt under her nails and Chloe could be mistaken for one of them.

"She's got a great body," Zee said, keeping her voice low enough that their conversation remained private. "And totally has a thing for you, no matter how much she doesn't want to."

Kitts rolled his eyes. "That's not what I was asking."

"But it is what you wanted to know."

Kitts ignored her and shoved more food in his mouth.

"Fine," Zee said. "She's one of Ranna's Ladies-in-Waiting. Says she was escorting some of the princess's stuff back to Weston Castle ahead of a visit. I think there's a grain of truth to that, but probably something else. I also suspect she was close to one of the guards, but she was pretty good at denying it."

"The one we left alive," Kitts said, sure of it. He'd seen it in her eyes when Miggs had knocked the guy out in front of her.

"Speaking of which, I'm heading back to town in the morning. The Count will no doubt be needing me for some stress relief after you torched his barn, and I'll have a chance to see what the response will be and how much you might be able to fetch for her."

Kitts had never been comfortable with his sister availing herself to the Count, especially after all that vile man had done to each of their band in a myriad of different ways. Yes, it got them access to excellent information, but he feared one day she'd be found out. Death would be the least of her concerns should that happen.

They ate in silence, watching the bustling activity and play before them. Chloe was a beautiful woman, one who would no doubt end up the wife of some lord or other. It was difficult to picture, though, seeing her here playing with the children and smiling. A lucky lord. The memory of her warm body pressed against his, the smell of her hair blowing in his face...

"You're falling for her," Zee said, nudging his arm with her elbow. "That's not good for business."

Kitts gave her a look, then rose. "Maybe you should be in charge, then."

#

Just after sun set, Silas broke out his pipes and began playing a lively tune of his own creation. Many of the kids began dancing in the clearing, circling the older man whose music seemed completely opposite to his appearance and demeanor. Before long, they'd dragged Zee and Chloe out to join them.

Kitts lurked from the cave entrance, watching and lost in his thoughts about how best to handle the ransom. How much? How to handle the transaction? This was why he didn't care for kidnapping. Unfortunately, they were lean on supplies and autumn was already upon them. Without funds, they couldn't afford the foodstuffs they'd need to make it through the winter. He wouldn't raid the farmers taking their wares to market and even most of the merchants weren't the sort who deserved to be raided. Ethical highwaymen rarely survived long.

"Uncle Kitts! Come!" One of Miggs' little girls was trying to drag him out into the dance circle and, at a humored look from his sister across the way, he gave up resistance and came along. Soon, he was following the line around their musician and before long he'd been maneuvered next to Chloe. Hand in hand, they followed the line, which then dissolved with the end of the song.

"Maiden's Song! Maiden's Song!" Several of the girls began to chant. Kitts rolled his eyes, but Silas simply grinned and launched into the popular folk song that was commonly known for allowing the ladies at a gathering to ask any man they chose for a dance. It was very clear the little girls expected he and Chloe to dance and both seemed willing to give in to demands.

The steps were simple and both knew them well. Chloe was as graceful as she was beautiful and her hands felt warm and soft in his. Her smile lit up the growing darkness.

"Not the captivity you expected?" he asked when their bodies drew close together. She conceded that nothing here was what she'd expected. He detected a sense of relief, too.

After the dance, the young girls adorned Chloe's head with a wreath of wildflowers, declaring her Princess of the Thicket. Chloe curtseyed gratefully and, in turn, named them all her Ladies-in-Waiting. Kitts couldn't help but smile, even after catching a knowing look from his sister.

The children were gathered up for bed, an ordeal in itself. Granny had already turned in for the night and it wasn't long before most of the rest were as well.

Kitts led Chloe by candle light back to his little partition of the cave - a short, steep climb up to a wide shelf with a low ceiling. It was dry and private, if cozy. Rugs adorned the floor and a bedroll was covered with blankets and quilts. He had a few boxes for his other meager belongings and one of Chloe's had been hauled up as well.

"You'll sleep here," Kitts said. "I'll leave the candle in case you need to get out in the night. I'll sleep down by the fire, if you need me."

He gathered a couple blankets for himself and, as he was about to leave, he added, "I'm sorry about what we put you through today. It's not your fault and I give you my personal assurance that you'll come out of this unharmed."

Kitts wanted to tell her other things, but figured it best to leave it at that. He bade her good night and went back to the cave's entrance and settled in near the dying fire. Before long, the wolves began howling at a moon poking out from between the clouds. A little after that, the banshee's shriek - a freakish, high-pitched screech - occasionally interrupted.

The weight of their little band's needs weighed heavily on him and sleep was a long ways off.
 
Road between Riverbrook Castle and City of Weston, about a day ago...

Trett intentionally spent most of the first afternoon of the carriage ride away from Riverbrook Castle riding outside with the driver. He had no interest in the old man's company, but rather was distracted by the dual presence of Olean and Anya inside it. The new girl's information had been moderately useful, pointing him more toward the suspicion that Ranna was avoiding the king's summons more than worried about him personally being in Riverbrook. He could confirm the deception along the road west, but it mattered little to his and Victoria's aims.

He'd arranged the purchase of Anya that morning from the house steward, who seemed indifferent to her loss. If Victoria wasn't happy about it, he'd just say he'd brought her along to get additional information they might not have thought to ask earlier.

Anya. His thoughts returned to her. Cute and submissive, the palate cleanser from Victoria. He'd taken her again that morning before buying her and hitting the road. They'd taken a slower pace and she began to show a greater appreciation for his manhood. Given time, she had the potential to be a good lover. If she didn't suit him, she could be rewarded to one of his other men.

Thoughts of sex brought him back to Victoria, which in turn led to Olean and her tutelage. And Olean and Anya were stuck together in a carriage for most of the next week...

He ordered the driver to halt, hopping down and ordering a resumption once he let himself inside the cramped carriage. Olean and Anya looked at him uncertainly. He got the sense he'd interrupted a private conversation. No matter.

"Olean," he said, summoning up every bit of his noble authority. "We have six days ahead of us. By the time we reach the royal palace, I want Anya to know everything about being a lover that you know. You can start right now, demonstrating that...thing...you do with your mouth."

He lifted the hem of his tunic, in case it wasn't clear how he wanted it demonstrated.
 
Road between Riverbrook Castle and City of Weston, about a day ago...

The silence inside Lord Trett's coach was deafening. Neither Olean nor Anya knew what to say to other. One of them was Hoshian, a member of a dispersed, nearly eradicated people from afar, a former sex slave rescues from the brothels specifically to teach the Sexual Arts to a Princess whose Chief Counselor and lover had recently been the recipient of her oral pleasuring; the other was a Burkinian Diaspora sympathizer, an Innocent, who had feigned being an indentured servant and volunteered her innocence -- the only truth to the story told to Trett -- in a long con attempt at getting a pair eyes and pair of ears into the household of Lord Trett or -- even better -- that of his lover, Princess Victoria.

They were so very different from one another in so many ways. And yet, at the same time, they were so very similar as well. They just didn't know it yet.

Though the conversation between them had ended with the introductions back at Riverbrook Castle, that wasn't the end of the interactions between them. Olean would on occasion take long glances at the other woman, and Anya -- catching Olean's eyes upon her -- would glance only quickly, give a polite smile, and divert her eyes again in nervousness.

After a good three hours of this loud silence, Anya couldn't take it any longer. She was desperate for some sort of conversation between them and -- looking to Olean's feet -- asked, "Do those have a meaning?"

Olean looked to her sandaled feet and to the tattooed dots in the webbing between her big and second toes. She responded with a polite tone, "I'm sure they do. But as they were given to me at a young age and never explained..."

Anya smiled politely again, looked to the passing countryside, then back to Olean's steady gaze, then feet yet again. "Did they hurt? I mean, when they … I mean … they use a needled … right?"

Olean responded with a simple, "Yes … and yes."

Anya realized that she was trapped in an awkward situation now. She'd begun a conversation that she didn't feel concluded; at the same time, she didn't know what else to say to or ask the other woman. Before she realized the implication of what she was asking, she inquired, "They're Hoshian, aren't they?"

With a bit of a chastising tone, Olean quickly asked, "And if they were, what would that matter?"

Anya's eyes widened a bit as she realized she'd gone somewhere she shouldn't. Nervously, she tried to respond, "Nothing, my Lady. It wouldn't matter! I … I just meant to ask--"

"What do you know of Hoshians?" Olean snapped, her anger rising. As Anya fumbled with her words, Olean asked pointedly, "With whom have you been talking about Hoshians…? Who is this person who believes they know enough about my people to be speaking of us … telling rumors and stories that--!"

Anya was beginning to panic. She was no stranger to the gossip of Court and of how it could ruin lives, whether true or not. She suddenly felt as though she needed to provide a source for what she knew about Hoshians, which wasn't a whole lot more than that they sometimes had round tattoos between their toes and their culture had been nearly destroyed long before her own birth.

"Princess Ranna told me!" Anya was blurting out before she realized what she was saying. "She told me you were Hoshian, and that you were--"

She stopped suddenly, looking up into Olean's eyes as the blood rushed from her face, leaving her noticeably more pale than was already natural for her.

With a slow, steady, accusatory tone, Olean grilled Anya, "And why … would Princess Ranna … Heir to the Kingdom of Weston … tell a lowly indentured servant … a sex slave might be more correct … that the Chamber Maid to her sister, Princess Victoria … was a Hoshian?"

By the time Olean was finished, Anya was staring at the floor of the jostling coach and had clutched her hands tightly together in an attempt to still the trembling. She hadn't even reached the City of Weston -- where she was supposed to keep eyes and ears upon and report to her handler the events taking place there -- and she had already blown her cover with one of Princess Victoria's closest confidantes.

They're going to hang you, Anya's mind was screaming at her. No. NO!! They're going to turn you over to an Army detachment brothel and make you a whore until dozens of men have fucked you to death … and THEN they're going to hang what's left of you.

Then, to Anya's surprise, delight, and relief, Olean told her in a calm voice with a wide, devilish smile, "I know who you are, Anya … what you are, and why you have been sold to Lord Trett."

Anya looked to the other woman with a confused look. "I … I don't understand."

"I am your contact in the City of Weston," Olean said. She reached two fingertips to her chin and lightly scratched them against her skin, then spoke the code phrase, "It appears the weather will be changing, but whether for good or bad … that is a personal feeling, is it not?"

Anya's eyes widened to twice their size. Olean scooted closer to one side of the coach and patted the seat next to her, inviting Anya over. The younger woman hesitated a moment, then moved. In a volume just loud enough for Anya to hear, Olean explained, "Princess Ranna feared that you might be too inexperienced for the mission upon which she has sent you."

Anya's face flushed red, realizing that no truer words had ever been spoken. The first time she got pressured, she'd begun dropping names! Olean continued, "I am to teach you what you need to know … to keep you safe by imparting some crucial information that may very well save your life on day."

"But … I thought you served Princess Ranna's sister, the Lady Victoria," Anya asked.

"Her Grace Princess Victoria," Olean corrected. She explained about how the younger Princess was angered about not deserving the title Grace, then responded to Anya's question, "I was recruited by Princess Ranna and Countess Pollania yesterday to do very much the same as you will be … keeping an eye on events in Weston. Now … what do you say we get to know one another a little bit better … and discuss some things you will want to know in this new life of yours."



The two women sat close and spoke quietly for the next four hours of the long ride from Riverbrook to the Parse-Weston frontier. Each of the five times the coach stopped to allow the passengers to stretch and deal with their natural needs, Anya moved back to her own seat. Then, once on the road again, she leaped back over to sit with Olean again to continue their discussion.

The coach made another stop as the sun was just beginning to touch the horizon to the west. This time when all were ready to depart, however, Lord Trett came to sit next to Anya, looking across to Olean and telling her, "We have six days ahead of us. By the time we reach the royal palace, I want Anya to know everything about being a lover that you know. You can start right now, demonstrating that...thing...you do with your mouth."

Anya had already been in somewhat of a panic simply because of the first presence of the man upon whom she'd be spying after getting her first lessons in how to do so. When she realized that he was speaking about their recently begun sexual interactions … then realized that he was asking -- no, ordering -- Olean to perform oral sex upon him … well, her eyes were wide with shock again and she was trying her best to inconspicuously scoot away from him to the edge of the coach.

Olean, however, seemed not to be affected by the lewd suggestion in the least. In a calm voice with the due amount of respect in its tone, she told Trett, "I believe that would be a mistake, My Lord."

She gave Anya a discriminating once over look, then continued, "She is a naïve, little girl, my Lord. It is my understanding from what little I have been able to get from her … she doesn't talk much, which may or may not be a good thing … but it is my understanding that you only recently relieved her of her innocence. Such a creature is a rarity … unlike myself."

Olean looked back into Trett's eyes and gave him a devilish smirk. She continued, "Do you not think it would be more … entertaining … if you were to teach her what you liked on your own, my Lord. After all, if it's experience that you wish … I am always available to you. My Grace need not know."

Anya was once again trembling noticeably. She was unsure of whether Olean was helping her or not. The image of Trett doing Gods know what to her in the name of education frightened her. But, then, so did having a former professional sex slave teach her the Sexual Arts in a step-by-step process.

Olean was seriously not wanting to drop to her knees to suck Trett's cock in a coach traveling down the Riverbrook-Weston Road. She glanced out at the reddening sky and -- realizing that they were close to the village at which they had stopped on their way eastward -- offered with that same devilish smirk, "Perhaps … if my Lord were willing to wait … I could show you first hand some more of the … services that my Grace Victoria has been learning over the past months."

She smiled a bit wider as she glanced at Trett's groin. Olean was sure that the man would love to experience the Master -- or Mistress? -- rather than the pupil for once. Only question was, would he be willing to put off his lust for another hour or so?
 
The Wailing Woods
The Highwaymen's Hideout:


This isn't supposed to be fun!

How many times had Chloe had to remind herself this evening that she was a kidnapping victim … that men had died … that, for all she knew, her lover had been killed as well by a Highwayman who had backtracked to the scene of the attack to dispose of the last eye witness? She had, of course, demanded that Trett reassure her the latter had not occurred. And he had promised her that the man had been allowed to wander off down the road in hopes of being found by some sympathetic farmer or drover.

Try as she might to be angry and frightened, Chloe simply couldn't pull it off for very long. She was being treated better by these people than she'd ever been treated in her life! In Riverbrook, she'd been little more than a servant. Oh sure, she was a Nobleman's daughter and the a Lady-in-Waiting to the Princess Ranna. But she'd still been little more than a nicely dressed, politely treated servant.

Here, though, she was Princess of the Thicket, her new Royal title amongst the Highwaymen … or, at least, amongst their children. Chloe had always adored little children, and she'd been hoping that even before she and Walton were wed that she'd already be carrying his child, giving their family a jump start. Hell, for all she knew, Chloe was already carrying the Guard Captain's child.

The evening had been alive with music and dance and laughter … and while she'd only occasionally been near him, Chloe's eyes had been taking in the view of Kitts all evening long. It wasn't proper, of course, for her to show direct interest in the man; after all, she was still his hostage, nothing more than a payday for him and his people.

Then the call came, "Maiden's Song! Maiden's Song!"

It didn't take a genius to figure out what the more mischievous girls in the band had in mind. The 12 year old twins, Halla and Danielle, essentially pressed up behind Chloe in an act of herding her toward the smiling Kitts. Instead, though, Chloe turned off to her left to reach a hand out to one of their younger brothers, asking, "May I have this dance?"

The boy's face lit up with joy … until he saw the daggers in his older sisters' eyes. He clasped his hands behind him, shaking his head in terror. Chloe laughed, sought out another boy only to get the same result, then went on a quest, chasing about the camp as the young males ran away as if playing a game of tag.

Chloe looked to Kitts, found him smiling with delight, and laughed herself. Looking about, she found Miggs standing alone and offered a hand out. He laughed loud and long, telling her, "My wife would kill me."

From inside the nearby cave, barely lit by the firelight while she breast fed their youngest, Miggs' wife confirmed with humor, "And then I'd cook you on a spit to feed your children."

Chloe laughed with the woman, then turned to Silas. Busy with the flute, he only shook his head. The visibly drunk Gauld answered by holding aloft his tankard of ale, saying, "I'd probably fall into the fire."

Two more adult men provided their own excuses, resulting in Chloe looking across to Kitts with a feigned expression of reluctance. She'd known she would end up with the band's leader, but it had been fun putting him off as long as she could. Chloe crossed to Kitts, offered her hand, and asked with resignation, "Would you like to dance … Lord Kitts."

The dance Kitts chose was simple. Chloe recognized it, of course; it was a slightly altered version of the lessons she'd taken as a child. She enjoyed the dance greatly, despite the relationship between her and her partner. They chatted about her captivity and more. Chloe was friendly and polite. It wasn't feigned; she was indeed enjoying herself with Kitts and his people.



As he was showing her to where she would sleep, Kitts told Chloe, "I'm sorry about what we put you through today. It's not your fault and I give you my personal assurance that you'll come out of this unharmed."

Chloe had almost forgotten she was a hostage. Almost. She thanked Kitts and watched him descend out of her view. Suddenly, she felt very alone. Kidnappers or not, the band of highwaymen had been great company this day.



A shriek awoke Chloe in the night. She hadn't even realized she'd fallen asleep; the last thing she could recall was staring up at the cave's overhead rock as the candle light danced upon it … and imagining Kitts laying here with her, naked, breathing erratically -- as she would be, too -- after making passionate love.

Chloe sat up with a start at the never before hear sound, recalling the warnings of the banshee. Maybe they were true after all. She'd gone to bed dressed in the simply gown Zee had provided, her boots still on but with the laces loosened. She pulled them tight now and stood to ascend to the cavern's main section. Candles and torches strategically placed lit it such that the floor of packed earth was illuminated for safe travel yet the little pockets in the walls where the others slept were in deep shadow for more peaceful sleeping.

Chloe wandered a bit, looking at the elements of the Band's live; she'd learned a great deal about them during her one day here, and she'd found herself repeatedly amazed at how ingenious they'd become over the years. She could see herself staying here, if not for the company of the surprisingly happy people -- for the company of Kitts -- then simply for the adventure of learning how the Band had come to be the very interesting people they were.

She found Kitts asleep near the cave entrance, laid back into a trio of seed bags -- wheat maybe, for bread? -- with a single blanket pulled over him. Chloe found another covering nearby, unfolded it, and laid it over him. She watched the firelight dance upon his face for a long moment and knew that she was already falling in love with him. She also knew that this simply couldn't be.

Wandering out into the darkness, Chloe found the edge of the short drop off that served as sort of a mezzanine to the cave. She looked up into the sky at the moon as she listened to the distant howling wolves. Another cry of the banshee startled Chloe and she backed up a step in fear. It sounded closer than the wolves, perhaps just down in the little valley up which they'd ascended the morning before … or … maybe on the dark peak above to the right, silhouetted against the star filled sky. She couldn't really know.

The sound of steps behind led Chloe to turn. Zee carried a candle before her, lighting her face, upon which she wore a friendly smile. Chloe asked if the sound was the banshee and -- if yes -- what the banshee was. Zee only smiled wider, asking, "Are you more fearful of it because you don't know what it is?"

"Of course," Chloe said without hesitation. "People always fear that which they do not know."

"Then I will not tell you," Zee chuckled, softly. She looked back to the cave, then to Chloe. "We are safe up here in these mountains because of such things as the banshee. People to not know it. So they fear it. Their fear aids us."

It was a rather vague and abbreviated explanation, but Chloe accepted it. She glanced to the cave entrance as well, able to see Kitts' face in the flickers. She looked out upon the forest for a long moment, then looked to Zee. She told her with a steady, determined tone, "I am betrothed. I am to marry in the months to come. And … I may already be carrying my love's child."

"And you are telling me this because you are falling in love with this place," Zee said knowingly. She glanced to the cave again, then to Chloe, adding, "and with my brother … and you fear that you will not want to go back. That you will do something you regret … such as lay with my brother."

By the time Zee finished, Chloe's eyes were glistening in the moonlight with threatening tears. She looked out onto the forest again. After a long moment of silence between them, Chloe told her, "I am Lady Chloe of Devonworth, in the County of Leigh. My father is not a rich man … but he loved me, as I love him. He will pay whatever ransom Kitts asks for. I will give you directions to Devonworth in the morning."

She hesitated a long moment before spinning on a heel to return to her bed, but then stopped short. She looked to Zee, whose face bore an expression of sympathy. She begged, "Please do not let your brother fall in love with me."

With that, she headed back into the cave, keeping her eyes on the candle before her to ensure she did not look Kitts way.
 
Road between Riverbrook Castle and City of Weston, about a day ago...

Trett's eyes narrowed when Olean had the gall to suggest he was mistaken in his request for her to pass along all she knew to Anya about being a skilled lover. Worse, she made a sort of sense about leaving his new servant innocent and...moldable to his tastes. Olean then offered herself, without Victoria's knowledge, any time he had the urge for a skilled partner. It was tempting, despite her Hoshian blood. She had proven her skills, both firsthand and through her tutelage of Victoria.

He glanced at Anya and she was visibly shaking. Such a frail thing to be frightened of servitude. Had he not bought her? Rescued her from the mistreatment of Riverbrook as she'd begged? Innocent or broken?

Trett frowned and sighed. Perhaps it would be best to break her in slowly.

"Fine," he said, grumbling.

It got him to wondering about something to which he hadn't really given much thought - just how did Olean "teach" Victoria? Was it simply talking or was there more involved? That speculation kept his mind occupied until they reached the small village where they'd stayed on the way to Riverbrook.

Unexpectedly, another carriage was parked not far from the small inn, and it bore Pollania's colors. Ranna's ruse? Or had it been real? He still wasn't entirely certain.

Tense, he got out of the carriage with no thought to the servants. Even from a distance, he spotted a crossbow bolt embedded in the frame near the driver's seat. What had happened?

A couple boys, teens, spied Trett and came over, eager to tell the tale of how they'd stumbled across the carriage when retuning from a visit to their cousins the next county over. The carriage was abandoned and had been not far from three dead guards and a dead carriage driver. Ambushed by the Wailing Woods Highwaymen, no doubt. Unsure what else to do, they'd loaded the bodies into the carriage and hitched it to a couple of the horses that had been aimlessly foraging nearby and brought it back to town.

Clearly, they expected him to take action. Trett thanked them for the information, made a cursory inspection of the carriage (the bodies had been buried outside town just hours earlier), and returned to the inn. All the while, he could barely suppress a smile. Not that he liked to see guards die needlessly, but Pollania and Ranna could use a bit of bad luck. Was it asking too much to hope Ranna really had been out here and was now captive or dead?
 
City of Pratt

It was three bells past midnight when Baran finally made it back to Leo's room across from Jardin's house. He entered through the back, silently, and was only slightly surprised when the boy came at him with a dagger in the dark.

"It's me," he said, stepping back a bit. Leo looked haggard and frazzled, but clearly beyond sleep.

"Jardin came back hours ago," he said, almost accusingly. "Where've you been?"

"Following another lead. Caitrin?"

Leo nodded his head back. "Sleeping, I think. Freeda's back."

At least that was good news.

Freeda, however, clearly hadn't been sleeping. She appeared around the corner of the doorway, expression as grim as Baran's own. He motioned between the sitting room and out back and she got the hint - it was time to remove Rollen's body.

Leo was left behind to console Caitrin should she wake while they were gone. Baran didn't think Jardin would need any more watching that night.

Baran and Freeda did their best to clean and conceal the head wound Rollen had suffered, then slung his arms around their shoulders and carried him between them like a drunk friend who'd passed out - their story should any of the night watch accost them in the streets at this wee hour. They stuck to the back streets as best they could and made for a drainage pipe that would get them quietly outside the city walls.

Nary a word was spoken until after they'd found an out of the way spot in which to bury Baran's old friend and comrade. The first hint of dawn was already on the horizon and the city would be waking soon.

"Jardin has to die," Baran said as they began to work their way back into the city. "I followed him and another fellow I didn't recognize to a gentleman's parlor. There they met with a third who I did recognize - Nordan Wedlow, one of Cordan's most trusted advisors. Nordan called the unknown man Riken.

"I couldn't make out much of their conversation without giving myself up, but it was clear the heightened guard here in Pratt isn't for me. Or wasn't. Jardin was arguing to give me another shot at Ranna, but the others were against and want me dead at this morning's meeting. Given that it's public, it'll probably be an arrest and then quiet dispatch in prison.

"The troubling part is that this Riken guy said he's got another ally who has someone already in place within Ranna's staff...someone who can either 'get the job done' or make it possible for someone else to do so. I followed him after they broke up, but he's staying at Lord Vincente's place, which I was not ready to storm in the middle of the night.

"We've got about two hours to decide if we're going to meet Jardin, or kill him before or after."
 
Camilla was sitting in the grass enjoying the beautiful day when they man stumbled out of the woods. He seemed injured or maybe even drunk. She stood quickly to flee up the hill; she wasn't a brave girl, and it had only taken Camilla a short moment to know this was not something in which she wanted to play a part.

But before she entered the forest, she turned and saw the man stumble and fall to the dirt road. And try as he might, he couldn't rise to his feet. Camilla watched for several minutes as the man struggled, then went still. It seemed a forever before she finally decided to go to the man. Her heart was pounding anxiously as she approached the man, and for good reason: a hood covered his head, and loose but effective bindings held his hands behind his back. He wore a uniform, but she didn't recognize it; it was dirty and torn and the crest of his Master -- or Mistress -- had been ripped from his chest.

Camilla's eyes and mouth opened wide as the man rolled to his side; an arrow -- it was actually a crossbow bolt -- was buried in his side almost clear down to the fletching. She was conflicted: she didn't know this man, and she knew she should just run away; but if she did, he would likely die

"Can you get to your feet, sir?" she asked. She took one of his forearms, urging him to his feet, telling him, "I can help you, but … you have to stand."

It was difficult, but they worked together to get the man to his feet. He asked Camilla to loose his hands and uncover his head. She responded hesitantly, "I do not know your, sir. How do I know you aren't a bad man … someone who will harm me?"

He reassured her she was safe, but Camilla politely told him, "Let me help you to safety … then, we can speak of this again."

It seemed to take forever, but Camilla got the man up the hill to her family's farm, which was just beyond the trees. She curled him away from the house, though, taking him instead to the barn. She wasn't sure how her parents were going to react to her bringing a strange man home. She made him comfortable in a loose pile of straw, then finally pulled the hood from his head.

He was a handsome man, if you ignored the sweat, dirt, and blood. She smiled to the exhausted man, telling him, "I will go for food and water."

She looked to the projectile in his side. "I don't know how to fix this, but … I know someone who does. I'll go for help."

Camilla began to rise, then hesitated. She said with obvious nervousness, "I will untie you. But … you have to promise you'll stay here."
 
Pain. Searing, blinding pain. It was almost the entirety of Walton's existence, save for his fear about the fate of Chloe, his betrothed. She was alive. He had to believe that. He knew in his gut that she was, knew that he'd have felt it should she have been killed. But captured by thieves? What vile, horrific things were they doing to her even now?

Walton, after being spared and abandoned, had tried to cut free his bindings. No such luck. The crossbow bolt in his side made everything hurt so bad he wanted to lay down and die. But Chloe... He had to find help.

Blind, staggering, he followed the road as best he could, hoping against hope he'd stumble upon a kind soul who could help. Hours passed, consciousness threatening to vanish at any moment. He wouldn't last the next night without help, that much he knew. The would would go bad if he hasn't lost too much blood first.

Someone taking to him. A girl's voice. Chloe? No. Someone trying to get him to stand, or help him stand.

"The hood," he said, the words cracking with dry mouth. "Hands."

She was afraid of him. Silly, considering he couldn't even threaten a young child in his condition. But she would help him, so he found the strength to stand and follow with her help. He wanted to warn her of the highwaymen, his kidnapped betrothed, but had no energy to spare.

Eventually, they arrived at a barn by the smell of it. She eased him onto a pile of straw and finally undid his bindings and removed his hood, promising food and water and help for his wound. He promised to stay - simple, since he didn't think he could stand again under his own power.

"Promise," he said, trying to smile reassuringly at the lovely young lady he finally could see with the his removed. "Chloe...?"

Walton fought it, but unconsciousness claimed him.
 
City of Pratt

"Jardin has to die," Baran said as they began to work their way back into the city.

"I have no problem with that," Freeda agreed.

Baran explained his reasoning for wanting their target dead. At this point, Freeda didn't care why Baran was suggesting killing the man. She would willingly kill anyone associated to the killing of her brother's father. Her father, she had to remind herself.

Freeda knew of Nordan Wedlow, of course. It didn't surprise her to learn that one of Cordan's most trusted advisors was involved. But hearing the name Riken caused Freeda to stop short in their walk, a shocked expression filling her face. She listened to the rest of what Baran had to say, then said in almost a whisper, "Our business with Jardin, Cordan, and Wedlow … it may have just become as complicated as squashing an ant under your boot."



Freeda looked about to verify where in the city they were, then altered their path. They cut through a multitude of dark alleys and back ways until they reached and entered one of the seediest taverns in town. Despite the very early morning hour, the place was packed with patrons, whores of both genders, and other such questionable characters. Freeda got them a table by tipping a drunkard off his chair, letting him fall to the floor where he would likely remain for the rest of the evening.

"Lord Riken is the Chief Advisor to Baron Vernon, one of the Kingdom of Weston's most interesting characters," she began. "He is in the line of succession to the crown of Weston. It goes Princess Ranna, her three sisters Victoria, Wanda, and Kamiss ... the King's younger brother, the King's younger sister, then … then the King's eldest nephew … Baron Vernon."

She hesitated as a mountain of muscle stepped up their table. The man wore very little at all: a black mask over his eyes; gold rings through his nipples which were connected to one another by a chain, also of gold; and a black leather thong that left very little to the imagination concerning the size and sculpting of a very generous manhood. Freeda glanced down to his sandaled feet to find Hoshian toe tattoos, as well as a heavy metal shackle that would be used to chain the slave up to an immovable object when he was finished with his night of service.

"How can I serve you, Master … Mistress," he said with a suggestive tone as he looked first to Baran, then to Freeda.

"You will let Groon know that Freeda is here to see him," Freeda said quickly, adding, "And bring us two flagons of the East Port Ale."

The slave looked to Baran for a moment, winked, and departed to get their order.

"I think he likes you," Freeda said with a smile. When she was sure they were alone again, she leaned in and continued in barely over a whisper, "I know what you're thinking. It's the same everyone had always thought about the Baron. Seventh in line means about as much as being seventieth in line. I am as likely to ascend to the throne as Vernon is, and my Noble blood is illegitimate and unestablished as a record of law."

Freeda hesitated as a man passed, giving her the eye. She went on, "But like a duck on the lake with its legs working hard out of sight, there is lot of work being done out of sight in Weston to better Lord Vernon's chances of one day wearing the crown."

She paused as the nearly naked server delivered their drinks, asking Baran -- but not Freeda -- if there was anything more he needed before he once again departed the table. "The King's brother is ailing and likely won't live out the year. There are rumors that someone has been slowly poisoning him for years, but the Alchemist has neither found a cause nor caught anyone in the act. There are some who think it might be the Alchemist himself, but the King trusts the man without question, so...

"The King's sister," Freeda continued, "has lived in the Holy House since childhood. She is a woman of the Faith with no husband or offspring, and she has made it clear that she would never wear the crown if offered.

"That leaves King Elrod's four daughters ahead of Baron Vernon," Freeda went on, telling Baran nothing he didn't already know. But she continued with something very few had ever heard. "When Princess Ranna began delaying the marriage her father was proposing, the King began negotiating with his Barons to alter the Laws of Succession … to allow for the legitimizing of his bastard son."

Everyone knew of Glenn, of course. He was one of Weston's worse kept secrets, the eldest of the King's three or four or ten bastard children. (It was ironic, many thought, that Elrod's wife had produced four girls but died birthing his only legitimate male heir; while Elrod had had no problem producing a male child via the loins of whores, peasant farm girls, or wives of his Noble Lords.)

"Never in the history of Medianna," Freeda continued, speaking of the post-Burkinian Era without actually mentioning the defunct Empire, "has a Sovereign legitimized a bastard child, let alone been succeeded by him to the crown. It's simply unheard of!"

Another interruption, then, "The Barons simply won't permit it, and if King Elrod were to unilaterally declare his son legitimate without the Barons' approval … well, you know what happened here in Pratt when the King angered his Barons."

"Groon will see you now … alone," the walking muscle told Freeda when he returned yet again. He looked to Baran, saying, "You may remain here if you wish … or … if you prefer some … entertainment--"

As he'd been talking, one of his hands had been reaching down to his groin. He pulled half of his massive, semi-erect cock out of the top of his thong and finished suggestively, "--room four in the back is available."

"I'll send him to you in a moment," Freeda said, annoyed, not even concerning herself with how Baran might feel about her offer. She sent the man away to complete her tale, now with an expression of deeper concern. "The Barons would not allow King Elrod to simply legitimize his son. However...! If he wished, the King could change the Laws of Succession to delegitimize his daughters! And there are rumors that he has spoken to his Lord Chancellor about such a thing. The presumption is that removing the four daughters from the line of succession would force the Barons to allow for his bastard son to take the crown."

Freeda looked about herself with concern of being overheard. She leaned in even closer, finishing, "But if the King did that … and if he were to be killed before the Barons acted to legitimize his bastard son … Lord Vernon would be first in line for the crown! With the approval of the Barons, he would become King of Weston!"

The big man returned again, stressing that Groon was waiting. Freeda shrugged her shoulders at Baran. It seemed like such a long shot of a conspiracy, if there was such a one. But Freeda had valued and trusted contacts across Weston, and the pieces were in place for such a conspiracy to take place.

Of course, they had their own situation here in Pratt to deal with at the moment. She told Baran as she stood to leave, "Give me a few minutes to talk to my friend. If, um … you aren't here when I get back, I'll wait."

She looked to the servant, to his cock -- the head of which was still out of the thong -- then to Baran … winking before disappearing into the crowd.
 
The Thicket

Kitts slept poorly, despite the soothing chorus of distant wolves and...well, the banshees. His impromptu bed wasn't much for comfort. Too many things were on his mind.

Candle in hand, he slipped back through the cave where the others still slept. He poked his head into his own little side-tunnel and found their captive breathing slow and steadily. At least she hadn't tried to do anything stupid. He hesitated a minute, studying her beautiful, carefree face in the flickering light. It would be a shame to see her go.

When he returned to the cave's mouth to stir up the cook fire, Zee appeared out of the darkness carrying a candle before her. Her hair was wet, as was her body that was only half covered by a thin robe she'd casually left open. There was no point in criticizing her lack of modesty - doing so only made her try harder to make him uncomfortable. Now, he did his best to ignore her bared flesh.

"You know Gauld watches you bathe, right?"

Zee shrugged. "So? Sweet guy needs a little something, even if he's too shy to approach a woman."

Kitts shrugged. She was right about that. Their tracker, Count Warrick's former master of the hunt, was a painfully shy man. He'd always preferred solitude and seemed to like the new arrangement he had with Kitts' group.

"You escorting me back to town this morning?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said. "Gauld and Silas will be checking back on the carriage to see if anyone's taken an interest and see what happened to the one we left behind."

She nodded and went into the cave to dress and gather her belongings. Ten minutes later, they were on horseback and headed in a roundabout manner for Entircar, the town from which Count Warrick ruled over the local region. The rode in silence for most of the first hour until dawn was fully upon them.

"Anything you want me to do while I'm here?" Zee asked.

"I can think of something I don't want you to do." It was their usual argument about her being the Count's mistress. He hated it, but couldn't argue with the results. Zee refused to stop, whether on principle or for reasons of her own, he couldn't be certain. "But since you'll ignore me, then just keep your ears open for any word of the carriage, our guest, or the guard who we let go. I know it'd not Ranna, but she was traveling on the princess's behalf and that might prompt a bigger response than we're used to."

"Of course. Besides, Chloe might be in better spirits, knowing her betrothed is okay."

Kitts took that to mean the guard. So that's why she'd been so desperate for him to spare the guard's life. Betrothed. Chloe hadn't seemed quite so out of sorts last night, playing with the children and dancing.

Zee had already warned him once about falling for the girl. And had suspected Chloe of being interested in him...while betrothed to another? He shook his head. Women.

"Yes, I'm sure she would," he said, letting it drop.

It was almost mid-morning by the time they reached their drop-off point, a concealed area south of Entircar. They worked diligently to keep the Count's men from being able to track them back to their base of operations, and Kitts worked doubly hard to ensure there was no direct link between them and Zee.

"Be careful," Kitts said in their usual parting as he took the reigns of her horse.

"Always," she said in kind. "And be smart. Thicket first."

Another thinly veiled jab at his wandering interest. He shook his head and waved her on, turning his own mount and hers back the way he'd come. It was his daydreaming of Chloe that led to his inattention and ultimately taking an arrow through his upper thigh before he became aware he was being hunted.

Snapped into action by the shocking pain, Kitts released Zee's horse and kicked his own into a desperate gallop. He didn't waste a second to look over his shoulder, especially after a second arrow zipped by scant inches from his ear. His horse knew these outer fringes of the Wailing Woods well, but so too did his likely pursuit.

Kitts spared half a glance down at the arrow jutting from his leg. It had sunk deep into the muscle and the pain was exceptional. Worse, it impacted his ability to stay balanced in the saddle.

Options. He quickly considered and dismissed each. Making toward the site of the ambush and finding Gauld and Silas was too far. The Thicket was nearly as far and he didn't dare lead anyone there. He had a few other allies among the farmers in the vicinity, but none whom he'd bring the wrath of the Count's men upon by his association (yes, they were the Count's men, as he finally risked a look back and saw at least two in close pursuit).

Outrunning them was at best a gamble, probably in their favor with more men and his injured leg. So, that left making a stand and fighting. Only his knowledge of the terrain and element of surprise were on his side.

Nearly half an hour later, leading the pursuit deeper into the woods, his horse began to show signs of exhaustion. He urged her on just a bit further, knowing where he wanted to make his first move. He guided her up a steep trail that cut through a tight, sheer-sided gully. At the far end of the gully, where it spilled out back into dense woods, Kitts gave his mount the command to keep running while he clasped his bow and quiver and jumped free, landing on his back in a thicket of bushes. Ordinarily, he'd have landed nicely on his legs, perhaps doing a tuck and roll to absorb the shock. He couldn't trust his bad leg to hold any weight, so he opted for a buffered landing. The pain was still nearly enough to cause him to black out.

He rolled to his side, using the same bushes for cover, and watched as moments later the two pursuers ran by. Kitts pulled himself to his feet, notched and arrow, and let it fly at the back of the trailing man. It took him just below the shoulder blade and he gave a gurgled shriek as he toppled from his mount. The lead rider foolishly pulled up short and turned to check on his companion, offering Kitts a stationary target. Even with leafed out branches obscuring the shot, it was easy for Kitts to thread an arrow right into the man's chest. Hopping one-legged to the fallen to finish dispatching them was considerably more difficult.

#

Kitts made it back to the Thicket late in the afternoon. One of the older teens spotted him, draped across his horse's back and flushed with sweat and shock. Kitts ordered him to run ahead and get help.

Miggs, Granny, a dozen kids, and even Chloe met him in the clearing before the cave. Miggs single-handedly lifted Kitts from his horse and carried him into the shelter of the cave. The arrow still protruded from his leg.

"Was afraid to pull it," Kitts explained. "That deep, that far from help...afraid I might have lost too much blood. Hurts like a son-of-a-bitch, though."

"Who?" Miggs asked.

Kitts smiled. "Count's men. Two fewer than there were to start the day."
 
County of Warrick
Western Barony of Parse
The Breck Farm:


"Chloe...?"

Camilla watched the man pass out, laying back into the straw. She should have been more concerned about his injuries. But Camilla found herself wondering who this Chloe was. Wife? Lover? His Mistress; perhaps a Nobel woman for whom he served? Somehow, she found herself jealous of Chloe, whoever she was.

"I'll be back," she promised the unconscious man … before leaning forward and kissing his dirty cheek.



It wasn't until long after dark until the man's eyes opened again. Nalla smiled to the man a moment, telling him, "Please don't move too much. You'll tear your stitches."

It was only then that the man may have realized his changed circumstances. He was in a small tack room of the barn now, better hidden; his bed of straw had improved only a bit, now being a bed of straw that included a blanket below and a blanket above, pulled down to his waist; and his nasty uniform was gone, his waist-to-ankle underpants and socks all that remained on his body.

"How do you feel?" she asked, leaning forward over him. She squeezed a large, rolled leaf from a magnolia tree. A goopy substance leaked out upon his stitched wound. She could tell from his reaction that it stung. "It may hurt now, but it will prevent you from becoming infected."

Few people had ever heard the word infected, or infection. Even the Barony of Parse's Alchemist was only learning what it meant. Nalla likely knew more about disease and curing them -- or at the least preventing their damage and pain -- than most people on the Continent.

She reached a hand out before Walton, dangling a thin, leather thong. At the end of it was a metal arrow head. Nalla told him, "It is said that too bear the weapon that did not kill you is to have luck against those in the future which will try."

Nalla put the thong over the man's head and pulled it down to circle his neck. She turned him to his side to check the wound at his back, where an inch of the bolt had been protruding, allowing her to more easily remove it. Nalla bandaged him back, then front, then forced him to drink more water than he wanted, telling him he needed to rehydrate.

"What are your intentions with my friend Camilla," Nalla asked bluntly as the man was eating food she provided him. Before he could answer, she warned him, "She is naïve and innocent … and … honestly … lonely."
 
County of Warrick
Western Barony of Parse
The Breck Farm:


Walton felt consciences ooze back, while a blanket of pain kept fighting it down. He was barely aware of a woman leaning over him. His memory was hazy, but he didn't think this was the same one who'd brought him here. Or kissed him. Kissed?

He shifted to check his wound, but she admonished him and made him hold still while checking the wound and saying something about infection?

"I've felt better," he said, grateful for the water, but wincing with each sip. "I have you to thank for that, I suppose?"

She confirmed as much, then offered him the arrowhead she'd recovered. A token of protection? He'd never heard of that before, but liked the sound of it. Then he remembered the attack and Chloe.

The woman got him eating soft food, then asked, "What are your intentions with my friend Camilla? She is naïve and innocent … and … honestly … lonely."

Walton frowned. "Who? I don't know any Camilla. Or you, for that matter. Who are you and where am I?"
 
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County of Warrick
Western Barony of Parse
The Breck Farm:


Walton frowned. "Who? I don't know any Camilla. Or you, for that matter. Who are you and where am I?"

Nilla studied the man with an expression of confusion. How could he...? Then, it came to her; Walton had been so out of it that he either hadn't even realized he'd been saved or simply didn't recall it all. She decided to leave Camilla out of it for the moment.

"You are in a barn, or did that bolt in your side ruin your sense of smell?" Nalla said with a slight smirk. "You are on the farm of Borlan Breck, a landed peasant serving Count Warrick of the Barony of Parse."

Nalla's naming of the particular farm was probably all Walton didn't already know. Of course, whether or not he remembered the County and Barony at this moment was questionable. She contemplated what more to tell him. "I am Nalla. Some call me Nalla of the Wailing Woods. I am a Healer. You should sleep."

She forced some more water upon him then stood. Not wanting him to recall that he'd murmured the name to Camilla, Nalla said, "You were moaning a name as I tended your wound. Chloe...? I do not know this woman. Sorry. I must go, but I will return shortly to watch you through the night. Sleep."
 
The Thicket
(The Highwaymen's Camp)


Chloe had awoken to find Kitts and Zee long gone. She didn't know how to feel about that; she'd so enjoyed her day with both of them, but she didn't belong here and shouldn't come to like these people. She'd spent the morning and early afternoon trying to maintain a buffer between herself and the others. But it had been impossible; no matter where she went, someone always found Chloe and immediately engaged her some activity, from gathering water or firewood to devouring the greatest of simple foods or playing games.

Then, late in the afternoon, a great deal of excitement caught her attention. It was Kitts, and he was injured. Surprising herself, Chloe found herself rushing to him. They got him off his horse and into the cave, laying him down upon a bed. It was almost immediately obvious to Chloe that the Highwaymen -- for all the violence with which they dealt in their life of crime -- had no idea how to deal with Kitts injury.

"Move, move!" she demanded, pushing in between the others to hover over him. "You're going to be the death of him, if the arrow isn't first."

She began barking out orders, and while some of them were initially hesitant, Granny saw the experience in Chloe and told the others to do as the Princess of the Thicket commanded. Soon, with the aid of a knife heated over the fire, she had the arrow out of Kitts' thigh and the wound cauterized closed. The operation was stressful, though, and Kitts fell asleep even as the smoke was still rising from his flesh.

"I need more hot water," Chloe asked one of the older girls. To granny, she asked, "What do you have in the way of clean bandages?"

Soon enough, they had Kitts settled down in his own bed. The children were more than willing to watch over him, but Chloe remained at his side as well. The younger ones instead tended to her, bringing her what ever she needed as well as volunteering themselves to be recipients of her fairy tales and stories of the glamorous life in a castle.

Kitts had lost a lot of blood during his ride and surgery, but Chloe thought he would recover just fine. But a few hours later, his skin had become flushed and he began to sweat.

"Is it the Gray Flu?" Granny asked in panic, knowing how contagious it could be.

"No, I think it's just the injury," Chloe reassured her. "What do have in the way of remedies? Herbs for inflammation, night sweats?"

Granny retrieved what she had. They administered the herbs and kept cold rags on his forehead and chest. But by midnight, they both began to fear that the fever would kill Kitts.

"You will ride and find Nalla," Granny told Gauld after he'd been called to the cave from his post where he'd been watching for the men who'd attacked Kitts. "Find her. Tell her what's happened. Stress how important this is."

Gauld was hesitant. He didn't know all of their history, but Kitts and Nalla had most definitely had one. Would she even want to travel from one side of the county to the other to help him? Granny demanded, "Ride! Quickly!"

"Who is this Nalla?" Chloe asked Granny after Gauld had ridden off.

Granny explained that she was a healer. And although Chloe knew there was more to it than that, she decided to concentrate on Kitts instead.
 
Baran listened with interest to Freeda's line of thinking. There was far more complexity to succession than he'd realized. Just how far were some willing to take things to get the throne, and would anyone be left willing to support them? As Freeda departed to speak with this Groon fellow, Baran was left wondering why the Baron Vernon would seek to be party to assassinating Ranna if his best shot at the crown was simply by convincing the King to do the circumventing. If anything, Ranna's reluctance to participate in the arranged marriage might put Vernon in a more favorable light with some. Or did he see Ranna's popularity as a threat should the king change the rules about succession? He'd have to ask later.

The Hoshian server, likely a slave, waited patiently and expectantly. Baran, having just returned from burying his friend following the tragic accident for which he bore considerable responsibility, was hardly in the mood. He wanted nothing more than to forget all this political bullshit and drink away his sorrows. Unfortunately, he still had his meeting with Jardin in a few hours and couldn't afford to get too drunk.

How to honor his fallen friend? By keeping Caitrin alive, for starters. And, glancing back at the large man's dark, bulging cock, probably something else. Yeah, his friend would've gone there, and would probably be ticked at him from beyond the grave if he passed it up.

Baran stood without a word, only a slight glance at the guy, grabbed both his and Freeda's drinks, and headed toward the back rooms. Number four. It was dim and seedy, lit only by a pair of candles while the air was thick with incense smoke. He had no interest in finding out what was in or on the mattress.

"On your knees," he said, remaining standing while closing the door behind him.

The Hoshian obeyed, kneeling and withdrawing Baran's thick cock. The guy licked his lips greedily. Somehow, Baran had managed to get hard by the time lips wrapped around him.

"To Rollen," Baran said, draining one of the ales in a single pull while he was serviced in a manner his friend would have approved of.

#

Ten minutes later, Baran was back in the common room and Freeda had already retaken her seat at their table. Apparently their meeting hadn't taken long, either. He nodded toward the exit and she joined him there, giving him a brief smirk.

"Learn anything?" he asked.

"Nothing useful, but he'll look into things for me."

"I'm inclined to skip the Jardin meeting," Baran said as they worked their way back to Leo and Caitrin. "It'll be an ambush, almost certainly, and we're tired and shaken."

Freeda expressed her agreement, also confident they'd have a better chance at dealing with Jardin on their terms and not his or that of Cordan's men.

"We need to move, too," Baran said. "Just in case Jardin figured out where we were staying. How about you head back to the inn, retrieve our belongings and horses, and I'll fetch the other two? Meet at the Cooked Goose - outside the city walls proper."
 
The Cooked Goose Inn
The City of Pratt
8am:


Caitrin rushed out of the tavern as she saw Freeda pulling up out front with the horses and gear. She threw her arms around her old friend and simply held her tightly for a very long moment.

"You have nothing to fear, Cait, as you will stay with me," Freeda said in a firm voice. When the younger woman looked up to her with a confused expression, Freeda explained, "Before you fell asleep earlier this night, you asked what was to happen to you now that your husband was dead. I will take care of you. Take you back to--"

"But--" Caitrin interrupted, quickly going silent.

"But what?" When Caitrin pulled back and looked to the ground as if afraid -- or ashamed -- to explain, Freeda demanded, "What?"

"I … I … have … I have made arrangements..." Caitrin began tentatively. Movement near the tavern's entrance caught her attention. She glanced to Leo, who wore a bit of a guilty expression of his own as he tried to smile to his sister. In almost a whisper, Caitrin said, "Leo has invited me to … to go with him … back to his estate. It is his estate now."

She looked up to Freeda, a wide smile filling her red face. She whispered with joy, "He's a Count, Freeda. And … and he wants to marry me. Me!"

Freeda couldn't help but chuckle before taking her friend into her arms for another tight hug. "Congratulations, Cait. I wish you luck … and lots of fat, happy babies."

The two giggled and laughed together, then Freeda went to the tavern's entrance to congratulate her brother as well. "Where's Baran?"

"He got two rooms, one for the men and one for the women," Leo said as they all turned to head inside.

Caitrin quickly said with a suggestive tone, "But...! If you thought that maybe you needed to be alone with him, with Baran, to discuss your mission..."

"You would be happy to share a room with Leo?" Freeda asked knowingly.

Seeing her friend blush again, she sent them away to their own bed, got a flagon of strong ale that would help put her to sleep, and headed for the room. Baran had already done exactly as Freeda was planning. She downed half the container in between stripping off pieces of her clothing until she was nude. She then set the rest of the brew on the little table on Baran's side of the bed, pulled a night shirt over her head, and crawled into the other side of the bed.

She was out almost before she could even consider counting sheep. She was so tired she didn't wake once to the sounds of sex and pounding of the bed against the wall … that occurred off and on over the next six hours.
 
The Village Greenhaven
On the Riverbrook-Weston Road:


Olean and Anya both had recognized Countess Pollania's crest on the nearby coach. The former quietly reassured the latter that neither Ranna nor her grandmother had been in the coach, then tasked the young slave girl to help her new master get the bags into the little Inn that appeared barely large enough to have the two rooms they would want.

Once Trett was out of sight, Olean hurried to the barn where she assumed the coach's horses would be housed. She heard the same story Trett had earlier, but -- knowing about the ruse with the coach -- she also asked about the young servant Chloe and the four Guardsmen who'd been accompanying her. Neither the blacksmith nor one of the teenage boys who had talked to Trett earlier could tell her anything. She feared the worse for the Ranna-look-alike.

"Can you ride fast and far?" she asked one of the boys. When he said yes, she gave him a silver coin and told him, "Ride to Riverbrook Castle. Tell the Guards at the gate that Lady Olean has sent you. Show them this--"

Olean pulled out a handkerchief upon which she'd embroidered her initials and family seal. "--and tell them you must see the Countess Pollania. Tell her all you know about this coach--"

"But I don't really--"

"Tell them what you know, even if it seems like nothing of importance to you," Olean cut in. She squeezed the teen's hands, and assured him, "You will be rewarded for your service."

"With a kiss?" he asked suddenly. When Olean asked him what he was asking, he said, "Will you reward me with a kiss?"

"Yes, yes, when you return, I will reward you with a--"

"Now," he cut in. He rose a bit taller and pointed out, "You will be gone by the time I return. Now!"

Olean laughed at the boy's courage … then stepped up to him and pressed a wet, passionate kiss upon his lips that he obviously had not even imagined happening. She told him firmly, "If you make it back before tomorrow night with proof that you have delivered my message … I will make a man of you. Now, go!"

The teen was mounted on the horse the blacksmith had been preparing during the conversation and was gone, eager to return and claim his reward. By the time Olean got upstairs in the Inn's the sounds of sex were already coming from the second of their rented rooms. Olean silently wished Anya good luck, then went to her room to slip into the hot bath the tavern's wench had been filling for her.
 
The Village Greenhaven
On the Riverbrook-Weston Road
-Evening-


After eating dinner, Trett was unable to find Olean. Anya suggested she'd gone off to tend to chores or the like. Trett, impatient after having had to wait longer through the evening than he'd expected, took his new servant to his room and introduced her to a couple new positions in his bed. Olean was right - having an inexperience girl and teaching her was pleasurable in its own way. He'd intended to send Anya away and bring in Olean later, but sleep overtook him...


The Thicket
-After midnight-


Gauld didn't like taking orders from anyone but Kitts, yet the urgency in Granny's voice led him to make an exception. He hadn't gone into the cave, but he'd heard enough to know Kitts had taken an arrow earlier in the day and was unconscious. His condition must have worsened. Things wouldn't work here in the Thicket if anything happened to him.

Granny's opinion of his ability to find Nalla in the middle of the night, riding fast through impenetrable woods, was a testament to his myth. The reality, however, was that it would be slow going until dawn. He mounted up, favoring better trails over the shortest route. While his senses remained highly tuned to the sounds of the forest at night - tracking the packs of wolves by their howls and the banshees by their screeches, the back of his mind was gripped with something fast more daunting - talking to Nalla.

Gauld had never been comfortable with people. Not his abusive father or negligent aunt and uncle. He'd barely spoken with the count who'd at least recognized his skills in hunting and tracking, and hadn't the ability to stand up to the man after the count's son raped Gauld's niece. Whenever he had to face someone, it felt like a hand crushing his soul, and always after he ran for the comforts and solitude of the forest.

Just like Nalla. He knew of her, a young woman living alone in the forest. He wanted to believe she was like him, a kindred spirit, and perhaps the only person who might truly understand him. And yet, for that very reason, he was terrified of her. Instead, he lived in his imagination, savoring the rare and brief glimpses of her in the distance. Cherishing the memory of the one time he'd spied her bathing in the stream...

How could he possibly face her in person? Even to beg for her help saving Kitts. He knew there was some history between those two, but he'd never heard just what. Would that make things harder? He didn't know how people interacted like that.

With the first hint of dawn on the horizon, Gauld reached Nalla's tiny cabin. It was homey, with dried herbs and flowers hung under the awning, and several vegetables planted out front in the small clearing in the woods. It was dark and quiet with no hint of smoke from the chimney.

He sat there, indecisive, for at least twenty minutes before getting the nerve to dismount and go take a closer look. He didn't call out, but rather snuck up to a window. Heart pounding, he peered in. Empty.

It was a relief, but also a frustration. Kitts needed her, probably hours ago.

With enough light now, Gauld searched the area and found the freshest of her tracks, at least half a day old now and heading toward the nearest village, along with another smaller set of prints. Someone had come for her services and taken her back. He led his horse by the rein and began the slow process of tracking his quarry, finding peace in the application of his skills.


The Cooked Goose Inn
The City of Pratt
-noonish-


Baran woke to the sounds of sex in the next room. Consciousness slowly returned and he realized it was Caitrin and Leo. Really? After her husband had died just last night? Must be in shock. He'd seen men do strange things when pushed into extreme situations. No reason it wouldn't do the same to a woman.

Freeda shifted in the bed beside him, reminding him that he wasn't alone. He'd half woken when she'd arrived in the room, half noted her lovely figure as she undressed, and then fully passed back out.

"I hadn't expected it to take so long to find you in my bed," he said, giving Freeda a wry smile. "Of course, I hadn't expected that, either." He vaguely gestured toward the wall and Freeda quickly filled him in on their plans to wed. He sighed.

"I sent a messenger to meet Jardin this morning with my apologies for not being able to make it and promise to catch up as soon as possible. We'll see what he makes of that.

"So, what do we do about this Riken guy? And why would Baron Vernon risk killing Ranna if she's not actually in the way of his quickest path to the throne? And what do we do with...those two love birds?

"And why aren't we discussing this over breakfast? Or lunch?"
 
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The Village Greenhaven
On the Riverbrook-Weston Road
Dawn


"Good morning, My Lord," Olean said with a sweetness in her voice as he stirred from his bed. She was in profile to him as she finished preparing the items on the little table. "Eggs and sausages, as My Grace's cook prepares for you when you visit. They had no juices other than a weak but tasty wine. I hope it will suffice. And cold goat's milk, not cow, as you like."

Olean turned and neared him a bit to give him a better look at herself. She wore only a thin shift, through which her ever-hard nipples poked. She knew from her two years of service with Victoria that Trett liked to fuck after breakfast, so there had been no reason to expend effort on putting on clothes that he would only want to remove from her.

"Anya is washing the road dust from some of your garments," she continued as she moved to the bath tub in a corner. She dumped steaming water into it from a metal pitcher she'd removed from the fire as she asked, "I hope she serviced you well last night, my Lord?"

She listened to his answer and apologized for being scarce as well. Olean had already known all about the coach outside, of course. Feigning as if she didn't, as well as pretending she didn't already know Trett had made his inquiries, Olean told him, "I asked around about the carriage outside, knowing you would want to know. It seems it was delivering some of Princess Ranna's personal possessions ahead of her planned return to Weston when it was attacked by a local band of highwaymen. I fear no one knows the fate of the contents … or of the Lady-In-Waiting who had been accompanying the coach."

She wondered what Trett's reaction would be to learning that there was a Nobleman's daughter missing somewhere on the Riverbrook-Weston frontier. Would he call for a search of the area? Would he send riders -- hired from the village -- to send word to Riverbrook? (Olean wouldn't tell him of sending her own rider, obviously.) Or … would he shrug the situation away as not being his concern and simply trek on?



At the creek:

Anya hurt again down there. She was still getting used to having her new master's cock buried balls deep inside her young pussy. It had caused her to walk a bit stiffly down to the clothes washing area of the stream, grimacing occasionally.

"Are you her?" a male voice asked, startling her. When she spun, the young man was standing on the bank above her asked with a devilish smirk, "The one who was crying out last night like a Hoshian whore?"

Anya dropped her gaze to the laundry in her hands, her face exploding in a fiery blush of horror. She didn't know what was more embarrassing: having enjoyed the sex for the first time, not enough to orgasm but still enough to be heard beyond the room's door and walls; or the young man inquiring about said cries of pleasure.

The young man was slowly descending the bank, and while Anya kept her eyes on her work, she could see his ever step in her peripheral vision. He was continuing to ask very inappropriate, very graphic questions, making her very nervous. She was knee deep in the water ten feet from the shore, wearing a simple dress she would have to hang to dry later … and she was getting very nervous as he reached the waters edge.

"What would it cost me to cause you to scream out like--"

"I wasn't screaming!" Anya cut him off, giving him a quick, sharp look before looking back to the water. She was beginning to tremble, more from fear of the young man than from anger with him. In a softer voice, "My Lord would not be happy with you speaking to me in this fashion. Please, just … please, leave me be."

"I'll leave you be, my beauty," the man said, sitting on the bank to begin removing his boots. "Actually, I don't think I should have to pay you. If I cause you such pleasure, it would seem only appropriate that you pay me instead, don't you think?"
 
Nalla's Hut
Deep in the Wailing Woods
Dawn:


Cable was harvesting grubs from a rotting tree when the bird song changed. Someone was coming. He hurried through the forest, his bare feet making virtually no noise despite the forest floor being covered in the dry leaves of Early Autumn.

On the edge of the clearing in which sat Nalla's hut, Cable found a man simply sitting atop his mount, watching the little hut. Cable presumed the man knew of -- and feared! -- the punishment for coming here without his Mistress's permission. (Cable couldn't know that the man's trepidation had an entirely unrelated source.)

Anyone who'd ever heard of Nalla the Witch knew that she didn't tolerate unwelcome visitors to her home. In fact, the last three men to come onto her property without permission had never been seen again.

The Noble who ruled this portion of the Wailing Woods, Count Warrick, had suspected Nalla in the disappearances, which had included a pair of his Guardsmen and a Game Keeper. But he couldn't prove her involvement, so he'd had her tracked down, arrested, tried, and sentenced for practicing the Dark Arts.

Nalla, obviously, hadn't been burned at the stake. Upon being sentenced, she'd casted a spell upon the House of Warrick. Within hours, as she awaiting the next day's execution, the first of more than three dozen people -- from scullery maids to Guardsmen to the Count himself -- became deathly ill. Warrick's Healers and Alchemist could do nothing to provide comfort, let alone heal the sick.

Nalla had told Warrick that only her release would save his County. The Count refused, until both of his male heirs came down with fevers. Nalla was released, and even as she was making her way back to her home deep in the Wailing Woods, Warrick's people began to show signs of recovery.

The Count was certain the sickness had been the result of the witch's curse. In reality, the cloak Nalla had been wearing upon her capture had been soaked in a mushroom spore solution that had caused a sort of anaphylactic shock amongst the vulnerable. She herself was immune, after years of ingesting the spores in ever increasing amounts of it in her meals.

Of course, Nalla made no attempt to dissuade Warrick from believing that the plague had been anything other than the Dark Arts. She liked the idea of them being afraid of her because she was a witch.

Cable watched the stranger finally approach the house. But he didn't go inside, instead searching the perimeter. Soon, he was leading his horse by the reins in the direction Nalla had left the day earlier with a local peasant girl named Camilla. Cable followed, undetected, for nearly a mile before convincing himself that the man was indeed leaving the area. He returned to his rotten log to continue gathering dinner, overjoyed at also finding one of the Red-skinned Yelps from which Nalla made the poison Cable used on his darts.
 
The Cooked Goose Inn
The City of Pratt
-noonish-


Freeda had managed to keep the continuing sounds of sex out of her head, but the movement of Baran on the bed next to her woke her from her sleep. He told her with humor, "I hadn't expected it to take so long to find you in my bed."

"Well, there have been so many people in it already," she said as she rose, that same smile on her still-tired looking face, "that I was afraid I might get in the way."

He mentioned the goings-on next door, and Freeda explained with her own surprise what Caitrin had told her this morning. "They seem happy together. We'll see if that continues after Caitrin begins spreading her thighs for Leo's Guardsmen … or Counselors … or gardener."

Baran explained what he'd done concerning Jardin, and Freeda agreed that it had probably been a good alternative.

"So, what do we do about this Riken guy? And why would Baron Vernon risk killing Ranna if she's not actually in the way of his quickest path to the throne?

"I was thinking about that while I spoke to my friend Groon," Freeda responded, using the word friend in the most liberal way. "Timing. It's all about timing … or, more specifically, the need for more time."

Standing now, Freeda ripped the sleeping gown up and over her head and turned to a pitcher of water to clean up. She showed no concern about being naked before Baran as she filled a bowl, wet a rag, and began cleaning her flesh, some of it in the most intimate of areas.

"It takes time to pull off a conspiracy like this," she continued as she washed. "That's assuming I am correct in my fears. Lord Vernon may believe he needs more time, to convince the King to delegitimize his daughters … the first step in putting himself at the top of the ladder of succession."

She hesitated a moment as, next door, Caitrin let out a scream of ecstasy. She only shook her head as she went on, "What would happen if Princess Ranna … came around … agreed to marry the Prince from The Highlands? Vernon would be out! But, if he kills Ranna? There would be a mourning period of perhaps four moons. The Kings counselors would be secretly working behind the scenes to secure a marriage between the young Highland Prince and Lady Victoria, who would then be the Heir Apparent."

Freeda began donning the City Girl clothes from the day before. "But my sources tell me Lady Victoria has already given her heart … and her innocence … to another man. She would be even more resistant to the marriage than Ranna."

The Master Spy knew full well that Victoria was spending her nights -- and mornings and afternoons! -- getting hot and sweaty with Lord Trett. What Freeda didn't know was that Victoria would drop Trett in a heart beat -- well, have him killed, to be more specific -- if the opportunity to take the crown arose, no matter who the hell she had to marry.

"That means that Lord Vernon could gain months, perhaps even a year or two, to improve his position in the succession," Freeda continued, sitting to don and tie her boots. "But, as I said … if I'm right. I suggest we finish our business with Jardin … meaning find a way to slit his fucking throat … and then get back to Weston to figure this all out."

Freeda had said get back to Weston. Of course, get to might have been more appropriate. They'd come here from Riverbrook. And while she knew that they would need to return to Ranna's home-away-from-home first, the key to uncovering the conspiracy -- if it existed -- would be found in the City of Weston.

"And what do we do with...those two love birds?" Baran asked. "And why aren't we discussing this over breakfast? Or lunch?"

Now dressed, Freeda stood and laughed. There was a grunting sound coming through the wall that she doubted was coming from the very recently widowed Caitrin. "You do down and get a table filled with food, and I'll deal with the love birds."

She headed next door, bursting through the door. She stopped short, shocked! Her brother was on his knees next to the bed, bent over the mattress, arms outstretched before him. His wrists were bound by sheets rolled lengthwise and tied to the far side of the bed frame. And behind him, Caitrin was gently inserting and withdrawing from Leo's ass a lubed, cylindrical object as the young man grunted out in pained-pleasure.

Leo had no idea Freeda was there; when Caitrin paused, her eyes almost as wide as Freeda's, the young man begged, "Don't stop! Don't stop!"

Freeda only lifted her hands in a don't let me interrupt gesture and backed to the hall. As she began to laugh, Caitrin -- naked -- hurried out with the intent of explaining what Rollen had taught her.

"I don't need -- or want to know!" Freeda told her, still laughing. She told the younger woman that she and Baran would be leaving after breakfast and asked what Caitrin and Leo were going to do. The couple were going to head for Leo's estate to begin the process of establishing him as the new Count. Freeda wished her friend good luck. As she heard Leo calling for Caitrin, she only laughed again, hugged her friend tightly, and bid her farewell. "You know how to find me, if you ever need anything at all."

They hugged again before Caitrin rushed back in to the desperate calls of her future husband. Freeda headed down stairs, told Baran only that the love birds were going their own way, and dug into the food her traveling partner had arranged.
 
County of Warrick
Western Barony of Parse
The Breck Farm
Sunrise:


Camilla smiled broadly as the man laying in the straw bed opened his eyes. She was wearing only her thinner shift this morning, without the dress and cape she'd worn the day before. The outer clothes were hanging over a limb down by the creek where she'd done her best to wash away the blood stains they'd suffered the day before.

It was seriously inappropriate for Camilla to be with this strange man in what was little more than a night gown. Her nipples shown as smallish lumps through the thinner fabric, and the way in which she sat revealed her bared feet and calves to the man.

"Walton," she said with a matter of fact tone. Smiling, Camilla said, "Walton. You said your name was Walton. You probably don't remember. You were kind'a out of it."

She wondered whether or not he remembered her leaning in to kiss his cheek before rushing off to find Nalla. Thinking of the other woman, Camilla pulled Walton's blanket down to inspect the bandages. They were bloody again and needed replacing.

"Sorry about this," she told him, showing Walton the bandages that had been used once already. "I washed them out at the creek and boiled them. I don't know why they have to boiled. Nalla said it's to..."

She looked out of the tack room and asked, "What's that word?"

"Sterilize," a second female voice said. "Cleans them, to prevent infection."

Camilla looked to Walton, shrugged her shoulders, and giggled. In a whisper, she confessed, "I don't understand half of what she tells me … but she's the smartest person I know. She saved your life, I think."

Nalla stepped into view, and after a moment of studying Walton, looked to Camilla. She demanded with a chastising tone, "Go get your dress and put it back on, girl."

Camilla looked back to Walton and blushed before hurrying off. Nalla knelt and looked at the bandages as well. She told him, "That's Camilla, in case you don't recall asking me yesterday. We need to change these."

They worked together to replace Walton's bandages. As they did, she asked who he was exactly, who'd attacked him, why he was out here, and more.
 
The Village Greenhaven
On the Riverbrook-Weston Road
Dawn


Trett woke, refreshed, to the sound of Olean bringing him breakfast as close to satisfactory as was likely in this place. The Hoshian girl was wearing a thin shift, revealing much of her figure underneath. Much as he'd harbored a distaste for her heritage, she had grown on him a bit during their journey. She was a worthy servant to Victoria.

She informed him that Anya was outside, cleaning his clothing. Proving her worth, too, he thought. Good.

"I hope she serviced you well last night, my Lord?"

It was perhaps a bit out of place for her to inquire, but her specialty was the sexual arts so he let it go. "Yes, she's learning well enough."

He rose from bed, naked, and stepped into the tub she was preparing. He ate while she washed him and told of what she'd heard regarding the carriage that had been ambushed. Trett couldn't have cared less for the condition of Ranna's missing Lady-in-Waiting, but it probably wouldn't befit his station to ignore it entirely.

"I'll inform Count Warrick when we reach his place this evening," he said. "If he hasn't heard already, I'm sure he can spare some men to investigate and send word back to Riverbrook."

With food in his stomach and Olean done scrubbing him, Trett rose. His erection made clear his intent and he nodded at Olean's shift. She reached to lift it when there was a woman's shriek from somewhere outside in the distance. Trett stepped to the window and looked out, hearing a yell to 'stop,' but not seeing the source. It was Anya's voice.

A fire rose in Trett. He threw on his overshirt, just sufficient to give him a modicum of modesty, and snatched his sword on his way out the door. In moments, he was outside and running barefoot through the damp dirt and grass toward the stream that ran behind the property. The calls for help grew louder, more frantic.

He rounded a small copse of trees and found a young man, naked from the waist down, trying to force himself upon Anya who he had pinned face down in the muddy shore. The guy barely noticed Trett's approach before taking a hard kick to the side of the head that sent him sprawling over into the water. Anya looked up, face equal parts fear and relief, but Trett wasn't done yet with the offender.

Trett stepped around Anya and dragged the struggling, dazed man out of the water by his hair, throwing him down in the mud. He held his sword tip to the man's throat.

"Anya," he said, not taking his eyes off the man, "did you invite this man to fuck you?"

"N...No, my Lord. I told him I wouldn't..."

"Rape, then." Trett spat on the ground. "Apologize to the woman, you vermin."

The young man was frantic with fear. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I meant nothing by it!"

"You know the punishment for rape in the King's lands?"

The guy professed ignorance, but his eyes widened with obvious knowledge. When finished meting out justice, Trett sent the man back to his home, carrying what was left of his own manhood and staunching was he could of the bleeding with his own pants.

Trett gave not the slightest care as to whether he would bleed out or not. He cleaned the mud from Anya's body, helped her gather up the clothes she'd brought to wash, and escorted her back to the sorry excuse for an inn. Olean met them halfway and took over while Trett had harsh words with the innkeep and set his driver to preparing the carriage with all haste. He'd had enough of this place.
 
County of Warrick
Western Barony of Parse
The Breck Farm
Sunrise:


Walton woke, still in the barn, but feeling considerably better. He'd be laid up for weeks, no doubt, but the fever seemed greatly lessened.

The girl, the one who'd found him, doted on him. She wore the sheerest of garments, distracting him mightily with every movement. Those firm young breasts, nipples prominent; bared legs. Only Chloe had been so open with herself to him. This girl, though...

She inspected his bandages and spoke something of infection. He didn't understand the term, but knew well enough about the dangers of a wound going sour. Apparently, this other woman had saved him. He remembered her, too. Darker, scarier, yet seemingly competent.

"Thank you," he said to Nalla.

He smiled in amusement as the older woman told the younger to go get dressed. Walton's eyes followed her until she was gone, wishing silently she'd taken her time.

Nalla leaned over and looked at the bandages. "That's Camilla, in case you don't recall asking me yesterday. We need to change these."

He did his best not to wince as she set about her work. She seemed competent and he had no better options.

"Walton Briggs," he said. "Guard to...Princess Ranna. We were moving some of Her Grace's belongings back to the City of Weston when highwaymen ambushed us deep in the forest. Never saw them before they hit us. Cowardly bastards, all! I don't know if any of the others survived. They took Chloe, one of the princess's Ladies-in-Waiting. Captive for ransom, I imagine. She begged them to spare me."

His head slumped back on the straw. "Poor Chloe. I hope she's okay. Has there been any word? Any ransom demands?"
 
The Village Greenhaven
On the Riverbrook-Weston Road
Dawn


"I'll inform Count Warrick when we reach his place this evening," Trett said.

Olean contained her surprise at the news that they would be taking the more northerly road to Count Warrick's castle. She'd assumed they would be following the same route and, thereby, returning to Riverbrook in short order. Olean knew a little about the Count, through Victoria and some of the Courtiers and servants who'd dealt with the man or his associates. What she knew was just enough for Olean to know she'd rather just trek straight back home.

"If he hasn't heard already," Trett continued, "I'm sure he can spare some men to investigate and send word back to Riverbrook."

"I'm sure the Countess Pollania and Princess Ranna will appreciate the assistance, my Lord," Olean said with a deeply sincere tone.

Trett's erection reaffirmed Olean's suspicion that she was about to have said cock pounding inside her in short order. But before she could get her shift over her head, Trett was off. A second scream told her why, and although a look out the window revealed nothing, Olean was sure of what was happening down near the stream's shore.

A minute later, in her shift and untied boots and carrying a blanket she feared would be necessary, Olean was running out of the Inn for the stream's bank. She passed a half naked man crying out in pain as he grasped at his bloodied groin. If Olean hadn't been so fearful about what had happened to his victim -- surely female and likely Anya -- she might have thought about the man serves you right, you rapist bastard.

Halfway to the bank, she found Trett escorting the naked slave girl, most of her front side hidden behind still wet laundry. Olean threw the blanket around Anya, telling her to drop the clothes. The younger woman was trembling and sobbing fiercely as Olean walked her back toward the Inn, reassuring her that all would be well.

Hearing Trett say that they were done with this place, Olean told him, "I'll take her to the coach, to dress."

Ten minutes later, they were on the road yet again, this time taking the North Fork road. Anya hadn't wanted to remove the blanket once it was around her, so Olean simply held her tightly in her arms for the next couple of hours. They stopped on occasion, and Olean had an opportunity to speak to Trett.

"Thank you for riding next to the driver, my Lord," she told him with a hand laid upon his arm with sincerity. "She will be better. She just needs time. A night … maybe two. If you … require service, my Lord..."

Olean didn't finish her offer to substitute in bed for Anya, knowing that Trett understood. "It is not my place to give permission, my Lord … but, if you wished to ride inside with us..."

Again, she didn't finish the offer. Trett would choose with or without such, and Olean would continue to hold Anya for as long as she needed. They were about to get back on the road again when the nearly raped woman called, "My Lord … please."

When Trett came closer to the coach, Anya looked him directly in the eyes and said, "Thank you my lord … for saving me from that--"

The words stuck in her mouth, but she managed to finish, "I will never forget what you did for me today, Lord Trett."
 
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