"Queen of The Known World"

Onya stood in the tent's corner, silent and invisible, until her Mistress was snoring and assuredly passed out for the evening. The woman Onya simply called Mistress was First Wife to the Clan's Chieftain, the provider of his heirs and the keeper of his Valuables.

Onya was one of those Valuables. Here in the most northern lands of The Known World, a harsh region called the Unnamed Untamed, Onya was an Untouched: a fairer skinned Southern female of hair color other than black who was pure of body, a virgin. Onya didn't quite understand the Northerners obsession with girls and women like her, but she appreciated that obsession and the respect that came with it. She'd seen how the barbarians of the Northern Clans treated young women captured during raids of other villages within the Unnamed Untamed or raids of the towns and cities to the south. As an Untouched -- particularly as the Chieftain's Untouched -- Onya could walk unescorted about the camp of 1000+ Horse Warriors without fear of being raped or otherwise hassled or harmed. The typical camp slave girl walking about without a Protector would be lucky to get a hundred feet before some horny Horse Warrior would pull up her shift and find pleasure in her warmth and wetness.

While the Chieftain considered Onya to be a great Valuable, there was something in the tent that Onya herself considered more valuable than she. She padded her way quietly across the tent to the fur covered pile of stones and dirt that served as a table and rolled out a large elk hide, revealing a map of The Known World:


Onya had seen such a depiction of all the known lands before, back in the transitional years before she became a slave and after she ceased being a Princess.

Onya's father had been Rolton, of the House of Mereth, King of the Meretheni Federation. Her mother had been the youngest daughter of the Frahm of Ras Rufna and the granddaughter of the High Counselor of the Republic of Yalla. The marriage of Onya's parents -- conceived of and officiated over by the Priests of Vint -- had produced an heir, Onya's eldest brother, who for the first time in the history of the world would on his Coming of Age Day unite the entirety of The Known World under one ruler and, it was hoped, bring peace and prosperity to all the lands and people.

That didn't happen, of course.

Onya wasn't entirely clear on the specifics of the conflicts that had seen the fall from grace of so many noble and royals houses in such a short time. She'd heard that the Far Eastern Tribes of Ras Rufna -- long unhappy with their rulers denouncement of slavery -- had sacked the great cities under a powerful leader, ultimately creating the Frenkish Empire. She'd heard that corruption in the Republic of Yalla's Senate had led to a peasant uprising, culminating in a military government. She'd heard that disease and despair amongst her own people on The Great Steppe had led to financial collapse, with the powerless becoming little more than servants to the powerful.

The most tragic news for Onya herself -- aside from the loss of her entire family, of course -- had been the news that the Order of Virta had been utterly destroyed. For a thousand thousand years, Vint had been the center of learning and discovery in The Known World. The map Onya was now staring down at had, of course, been created in the Library of Virta, making it -- in her eyes -- the greatest Valuable not just in the tent, the village, or the Unnamed Untamed, but in all of the world.

The map was valuable not only because of its rarity to all but of its personal worth to Onya: this map was, essentially, a picture of everything that -- as heir to the entirety of The Known World -- should be hers!

Oh, Onya had no illusions: she was never going to be Queen of all there was. She was a slave to a Northern Chief. But once upon a time she'd been in line for the crown. Sure, she'd had 10 siblings older than her, meaning that her chances of becoming Queen then before the wars had been almost as good as they were now after them. But fate had a ... what was that saying...? A fickle finger...? Yes, the fickle finger of fate.

One by one, as the peace broke and The Known World began falling toward ruin, Onya saw her older siblings dropping like flies. Two brothers and a sister were killed during combat. A third brother and two sisters died of accident or disease. After a 16 month siege of the capital city of Fothala left thousands dead, Onya and her two youngest siblings were snuck out of the city to Kinth. There, the once loyal Lord betrayed his Meretheni King and sold the three children to the Lord of Morbeth. The Lord had intended to marry the three Mereth children to his own children, thereby solidifying legitimacy of any future claims he might make on the lands of The Known World. Unfortunately for the Lord, he himself was betrayed and the three Mereth children were snuck away into the night, never to be seen by others and never to see one another again.

Onya had been only 9 years old when she left Morbeth. She spent three years being drug through the wetlands of the Fenwater before escaping her captors. She found her way to Vint, where she spent another three years as a servant to a Priest of the Order of Virta. It was during this time that she both learned to read and write and first saw the map of the lands her family had been intended to rule. Also during this time she heard the rumors that the last of the Mereth Family children -- the heirs to The Known World -- had all been ruled deceased.

After hearing about her eldest brother's death, Onya fled out into the rolling hills surrounding Virta to be alone, only to be captured by slavers who sold her to her current Master. She'd been here ever since. For three years she'd served the First Wife's every need, waiting for death to take her as it had her entire family.

But ... that wasn't to happen, either.

Baldr had been riding several weeks towards the next clan. Behind him traveled but a small contingent of his own clan, a mere 5000 warriors and their wives and slaves. The dust from their coming could be seen for miles and he knew the camp would be ready for his coming, but he also knew they would not be prepared for what he was bringing with him.

Since he had been born and his father had named him, he had been destined for great things. his name meant "Prince" in the old tongue and he was determined to live up to it. His father had been a great chieftain and although he had only been able to sire one boy, had raised him well. He had taught him how to fight and ride as soon as he could walk. His mother had taught him to read and write, a strange custom from her lands far to the south, yet he learned much because of it.

As he grew he grew strong, but he also saw the suffering all around him. His people constantly fought. The fought with each other over the best lands to raise their horses and herds. They fought with the people to the south to try to extend their lands and to get gold and riches. But most importantly, they fought with nature itself to survive.

After his father died he took over his place by defeating three other challengers for the right to lead, then bided his time. He was going to change the way the clans lived, but he needed to start slowly. First he introduced new ideas slowly, putting ideas in the clan's heads that improving a central site to raise their herds and horses, while the warriors raided would improve their lot. Soon the council was coming to him expressing this idea. Of course he made them work hard to convince him it was a good idea, but eventually he caved in.

Soon a small village was made in a suitable spot, easily defended, well watered, with fields for their animals. The warriors could still roam knowing their women and children were safe and they traveled faster at the same time.

Then Baldr started his next plan. He raided a small clan, but instead of putting it to the sword he offered it a choice. Swear to obey him or be crushed. The only one that had to die was the clan chief. He would put up his clan, if the chief did the same. Blood oaths were sworn and sacrifices made to show the gods and each other no treachery was being done then the clash was begun. Baldr was never in any danger, but out of respect for his opponent he allowed the fight to continue for many minutes before he dispatched the man.

He continued to build up his clan this way, absorbing small clans until he was big enough to challenge larger ones. Now he was on his way to challenge one of the few remaining large clans. Soon he would be able to move onto the next step of his plans. The south should watch out.

Onya had pleaded with Loro to flee the camp even before the advance teams of the approaching horde had arrived. "Please, Mistress. My Master is a fierce warrior ... but this Chieftain ... this Baldr--"

Onya had gone quiet quickly as the First Wife's hand contacted her in a mighty slap that would send her to the fur-covered floor and would continue to sting even after Borona was laying in the dirt, his chest cut open and his life force soaking into the cold, packed tundra of the Unnamed Untamed.

Onya had known the outcome of the man to man combat even before the first ring of sword upon sword had been heard. Her Master was a man of experience and cunning, but the younger, stronger, hungrier Baldr was like nothing Borona had ever come up against. Onya had only wanted her Mistress to contemplate the possibility that her husband might not come out of this duel alive; that the Clan might be absorbed into the larger army; and that she, Loro, might find herself a Lesser Wife of a new Chieftain, presuming she was allowed to live at all.

As the metal on metal clanging and the cheering of men from one side or the other of the battle field flooded into the tent, Onya realized that she had no idea of the fate she and Loro would face when -- if -- Borona was defeated. Under the reign of her current Master, Onya was an Untouched and Loro was First Wife, both highly regarded positions in their own right. But how would defeat affect that? Onya had been told that all the Clans of the Unnamed Untamed honored the same Gods; and that it was the Gods who had declared the laws concerning slaves and royal spouses. Was that true? Or was that simply something Borona had told her to make her feel safe amongst the 1000 man army that had surrounded her for the past 3 years?

Lost in thought about her future, Onya did not immediately detect the change in the crowd's cheering. When she did, she looked up from where she still sat on the fur covered dirt to find her Mistress's cheeks wet with the tears flooding from her eyes. The fight was over. Borona had been defeated. The new sound was the cheering of men from only one side of the battle field. From Baldr's side.

Onya stood just as the tent flaps flew open and one of Loro's personal Bodyguard hurried inside. He announced with his own concern, "The Lord has fallen, M'lady. We should flee."

"No!" Loro said without hesitation. She looked to Onya for a moment with an expression of regret, first for not having listened to the girl, second for having struck Onya when all the slave had wanted was to protect her Mistress. Loro looked back to the Bodyguard and ordered, "Lower the banner. Send welcome to our new Master. Invite him to my tent."

The Bodyguard donned a questioning expression, but Loro only repeated her demands and sent the man on his way. She then turned to Onya, telling her with a gentle voice, "Prepare me for our new Master, please."

The women spent the next few minutes dressing Loro in her most beautiful gown and painting the First Wife's face with the most colorful of pastes. When they were finished, Loro went to the chest in which her own most personal possessions were kept, removed an even smaller chest, and removed from it a small vial.

"Please, Mistress," Onya pleaded, before instantly going silent at the realization that the course Loro had chosen was likely the best one. The pair of women moved to the First Wife's bed, where Loro drank down the bluish liquid, grimacing at the sharp taste. "The Gods will welcome you with open arms, Mistress."

"The Gods will protect you," Loro returned. She laid back on the bed and helped Onya in arranging her and her gown for a worthy presentation. The Northern woman looked to Onya with glistening eyes, took a hand tightly, and spoke her last words, "You are Untouched. Ensure your new Master knows this. The God's will protect you ... my daughter."

Tears suddenly sprung from Onya's eyes at that last word. She hadn't heard the simple descriptor in almost a decade, and though it came from the woman to whom she had been a servant at times and a slave at others, it still affected her in the deepest way. She watched Loro's eyes close, her body twitch a bit, her breathing become ragged ... then, in her mind's eye, her spirit rise from her to ascend to the Heavens.

When the grip of Loro's hand upon her own failed, Onya hurried to the table, gathered the map of The Known World, and hurried to her own little straw bed in the corner. She stuffed the drawing into the bottom of her own pack, then -- as she heard the approach of many men -- hurried back to kneel respectfully at the end of the bigger bed near her now dead Mistress's bared feet.

"I was the servant of my Mistress, Loro of the Borona Clan," Onya said without raising her eyes to even see if the men who had just entered even included the fight's victor. She continued, "I am now your servant, Master."

Then, remembering what Loro had warned and what she already knew was the only thing that would -- might! -- protect her from a fate worse than death, she continued, "I am Onya ... the Untouched."

Baldr had wanted to get to the camp in the early morning, but the God's had not seen fit to bless him with smooth traveling conditions. Still he had managed to send outriders to surround the camp and stop any stragglers from escaping. These people would be dealt with harshly. Loyalty to ones Clan was something he admired, however running away and cowardice were things he had no patience for.

He had arrived just before the noon day meal. Not the ideal time to fight, especially at this time of year, yet he had issued his challenge. He had hoped Borona may have accepted his offer to become one of his advisors if he allowed his tribe to be absorbed peacefully, but he instead chose to fight. He could not fault the man's decision however. He was still a fine warrior and had led his tribe well.It was just unfortunate that this was how things had to be done.

The tribes had lined up on opposite sides of the field of battle. His facing the camp, Borona's facing out. A wide gap of over 30 paces left between them was where they met. It was blessed by the holy men of both sides, and a fresh killed goat offered as sacrifice to the Gods to watch over them and to sit in judgement. Then the fight had started.

Borona was good. Fit, strong and healthy, he knew the ways of battle and used all the tricks he had learned. Unfortunately for him they were not enough against the younger, stronger and more determined Baldr. It did not take him long to dispatch his opponent and claim victory. He had the body taken by the holy men to be prepared for the fire. He was to be given all honor as had all other chieftains defeated by him.

He then gathered his leaders and strode towards the man's tent. As he walked inside he already knew he was too late. Damn another one then. He saw the body laying on the bed, dressed in it's finery and painted, ready to accompany her husband to the afterlife. He had expected this but had hoped to stop it.

Then he heard a voice from the foot of the bed and his eyes swiveled down. He saw a girl, dressed in slaves rags with eyes staring at the floor, not even daring to look at him. He could hardly comprehend the words she was speaking. Of course she would have been the servant of the chieftains wife, it would be the only reason she would be here and yes that would now make her his property to do with as he saw fit. He was about to exit the tent to call for another pyre to be made when her last words hit his ears.

"I am Onya ... the Untouched."

He froze then turned around walking over to the kneeling girl and looking down at her. It was true, in this light her hair did indeed look red, but that could be a trick of the firelight. Yet she was pale, even after what he had to guess must be at least over 6 months of captivity. Months slaves at least became somewhat brown after that time. Stroking his beard he pulled her to her feet and marched her outside. In the daylight the full impact of her hair was astounding. It truly did look red but he had heard of slavers using something to change a girls looks as they knew of his peoples fondness for certain hair types. He ordered his small band to surround them then look outward then grabbed her skirt and pulled it up exposing her nether regions. The hair there too was red. Quickly replacing the dress he moved back into the tent. No trader went that far and no woman either.

Placing her before a chair he had her kneel down and then sat. "I Baldr claim this woman Onya as my property. She will serve me now and I make it known to all those here who will spread the word, She is an untouched." Nodding he looked at all present then waved his hand at the girl, ""Onya food and drink for us all."

With that he dismissed her from his mind for now as he turned to his men. "Have them arrange another Pyre for Loro. She is to be burned with her husband. We will honor them tonight and feast. Tomorrow we head home as normal." He looked around at ten of his most trusted warriors. All of them had been with him from the start and all of them knew that there was more to his plan than just uniting the clans. "We have almost done it my friends. Only six clan's remain and I have heard that two of them may come to join us freely. Within six months the whole of the Clan lands will be one for the first time."

Smiling he stood and yelled to the ceiling and the skies above it. "Then there will be a feast this world has never seen," he laughed as he slapped their backs and looked for the food and drink he had sent Onya off for.

Baldr's response to Onya's claim of being an Untouched had been unexpected ... and embarrassing ... and frightening. Since even before she'd begun bleeding, no man had looked upon her treasures as the warrior had done moments earlier. But it hadn't been Baldr's eyes that Onya had feared during that moment of panic. She'd been certain he was about to take her there in that circle of warriors, in some sort of ceremonial claiming that she'd never heard of here in Bonona's Clan.

"I Baldr claim this woman Onya as my property..."

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After her new Chieftain had hustled her back into the tent and begun claiming her, Onya's deep fears were replaced with great relief.

"She will serve me now and I make it known to all those here who will spread the word, She is an untouched."

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Onya dropped to her knees, head bowed to the point that her chin pressed against her chest as she murmured just loud enough for Baldr, "I am your servant, Master."

"Onya food and drink for us all."

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She stood and hurried out of the tent to a nearby tent. As she went, Onya looked without appearing to look from one unfamiliar warrior to another, seeking any indication that they would not understand that she was protected by their Chieftain. But although there were plenty of hungry looks, not a single man made even the slightest movement her way.

In the cooking tent that served the Clan's most important members, Onya found the staff huddling in the back behind various containers of food and drink as well as dozens of carcasses drying in the open air. She reassured them that they, like her, would be respected and demanded they get back to work. Onya held a position of power amongst these people, despite being a slave herself, and soon she was leaving the tent with four others close behind her, each with their hands full of food and drink. They arrived at the tent just as Baldr was explaining...

"Within six months the whole of the Clan lands will be one for the first time."

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Onya had always been in attendance -- silent attendance, of course -- of Borona's strategy meetings with his Karants, his Lieutenants. It was an ironic situation, being an Untouched for a Warlord: she was considered a good luck charm, thus her attendance as if her presence guaranteed victory; and yet she was a slave, here in the Camp against her will, which most would presume was a security risk. That conflict was the reason she'd always been so closely watched whenever the Camp was hosting traders or diplomats from other Clans, to ensure she did not pass sensitive information.

Of course, Onya would never have done such a thing. She had no allegiances to of loyalties for anyone outside the Clan, no one for whom such information would have been beneficial. She had no one to whom she could trade such information in the hopes of being freed from the Clan. She had been stuck here with no hope of escaping, so it had never occurred to her to turn trader.

Onya hesitated at the door as the impressive man bellowed to the skies...

"Then there will be a feast this world has never seen."

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Seeing Baldr look her way expectantly, Onya headed deeper into the tent, followed dutifully by the others. In a short moment, platters, bowls, and pitchers were distributed all about the men who remained with the new Chieftain. Once the servants' hands were empty, Onya rushed them out, then moved to the wall of the tent directly behind Baldr and sat. In contrast to earlier times, though, the slave kept her head up and her eyes on her new Master.

She couldn't know what Baldr expected of her, but Borona had always required his Untouched to be at his back during talks with his men. All Onya could do was learn her Master's ways ... while trying her best to control her thoughts about what a man like that could do to a girl like her.

Onya had never suffered fantasies of being with Borona. He hadn't been the perfect male Baldr was now. Sure, he'd been muscular and strong. But he'd also been covered with what Loro laughingly called his generous layer winter fat. And there had been the simple fact that the man had been ugly as Granger Goat shedding its coat at Spring, too. Ugly. Ugly!

And although Onya had no real desires of surrendering her Untouched status to any man any time soon, she was already fantasizing that if she ever did, it would be to a man like Baldr...

Baldr and his men began to eat. He was pleased with the girls quick response to his needs and her handling of the other slaves. Of course she would be afforded a special place in their ranks, but he had seen the fear in their eyes as they had served them. He had not seen it in hers.

The slaves however had nothing to fear from his warriors, well besides from the usual. However every man there knew that they were to act responsible. They were all now part of the same clan and the slaves had the same rights as the ones that lived at home did.

This had been hard to get through to them at first. The first few raids they had still acted like they normally did, satisfying their urges on any slave that was near to hand, plundering from the families and even taking prized mounts as their own. Baldr had quickly put a stop to this though, sometimes through violence, but mostly through words and acts.

He knew it was not good to deprive the men, so he always split the chieftains treasure with them, something never done before. However as he was the only one fighting he also explained he took most of the risk. The warriors were there only in case of trouble. Of course when that happened they were allowed spoils. By the time he had a large clan his ways were set in stone and everyone knew their role. Newcomers were taught quickly the error of their ways if they stepped out of line by the men themselves.

As the meeting wore on, he discussed their travel plans and how fast his Karant's thought this clan could move. As usual the whole tribe could be ready to mve at a moments notice. The tents, though very solid, could be dismantled quickly and everything was kept half packed in a state of readiness. the herds and Horses could be gathered up and on the move within an hour, the whole camp within two with hardly a trace it had been here. The clans were masters at this.

Baldr nodded and then dismissed them to spread the word of the feast and of his desire to leave by midday.

He then turned to the girl who had been sitting quietly behind him the entire time. He nodded at her and indicated for her to rise and sit in the chair next to him. He studied her closely, noticing for the first time how truly beautiful she was. She had the fine features of a southern lady to go with her milky skin and a small graceful body as well. The clothes she was wearing did not do much to hide her figure but nor did they flatter her. She had small breasts but they did not look out of place on her, instead they complimented her look.

He smiled at her and then nodded. "So, you must be from the southern lands of course," he began speaking easily, "I would say the Meretheni Federation somewhere although how you came to be in this tent would be a fabulous story."

He poured two goblets of watered down wine and placed one in front of her. "I am rather looking forward to hearing it actually but for now let us talk about other things." He smiled widely at her as he sipped his wine. "I need you to convince the slaves that they will be well treated by my men and that nothing will change. Tomorrow we will be traveling back to my Clan's homelands and they are to be prepared to pack up the camp. However I also want to have a feast to honor both Borona and Loro. They were fine leaders and I had hoped they would choose a different path, but they were true clansman until the end. I need your best cooks and food to prepare it, and I think you know who and where that is."

He continued to smile at her as he sipped his drink. "You know you remind me so very much of my mother. She was a woman from the south as well. You may have noticed the red tinge to my hair. She always said that there was more to a southern woman than met the eye. My father found that out as did more than one male," he laughed gently.

he remained quiet for a few moments then stood up and gestured for her to follow him. "Come, lead me to the kitchens and we will see if I am as good with my words as I am with my sword," he chuckled, "Although I feel you will need to back me up."

(FYI: I began adding words, definitions, and descriptions to the Encyclopedia. If you see a word I haven't added that you feel I should, PM me about it.)

Onya remained silent through the long meeting between Baldr and his Karants. Her gaze never left the back of her new master's head, as if she was there only to fulfill his every command with immediacy. And she did, of course. Almost before he could hold his goblet out for more wine, Onya would be rising to retrieve the pitcher and refill it; and almost before he could make clear which of the various meats or cheeses or treats he wanted, she was standing beside him with the appropriate container.

But she was listening intently as well. Information was power. Onya had learned that even before she truly knew what it meant. She could remember sneaking about the castle as a little girl, hiding in the shadows while one after another informant visited her father, telling him things about his Kingdom that his loyal Lords never would. He'd caught her often, but rather than punish her for herskulking about, he tested Onya with interpreting what she'd overheard. She had been but a child and didn't understand much of what she'd overheard. But Onya had often surprised her father with the things she'd gleaned that had evaded his understanding.

What Onya gleaned from just this one conversation between Baldr and his Karants was that this man would one day conquer The Known World. It wasn't just that the Chieftain controlled the largest army in the Unnamed Untamed. He had a mind for long term strategy that Borona had never had. Onya's former Master had rarely looked beyond the current Winter. But this Baldr ... he was looking out years ahead!

"Yes, Master ... Meretheni," she answered in response to Baldr's questions about her origins. With her gaze on the warrior's feet, she continued with truth, as truth was easier to remember than lies; but she only told as much truth as she felt necessary. "Fothala, Master. I left during the siege, a decade ago. I escaped, but I was captured. I spent time in Lotha ... Kinth ... Morbeth. I was a servant ... a slave ... a Freeman. I served the Order of Vint for a while, before being kidnapped and taken north ... to the Unnamed Untamed ... to Borona, for whom I served as Untouched. Three years I served my Master ... and three years I hope to serve you, Master. Three years ... more ... all of them ... until you no longer have a need for me."

Onya was sure to remind Baldr of what she was, just in case the wine he'd been sampling over the past couple of hours had made him forget her unique nature. She added quickly with a tone of genuine gratitude, "I am now pleased to serve as your Untouched, Master."

He served Onya a goblet of wine, but again she was hesitant. She'd never drank wine with Borona. In fact, she'd never drank wine at all! Intoxication had been and still was the first stepping stone toward parting her thighs for a man. She be an Untouched, but she was still a woman; and women had needs just as men did. Of course, Onya fulfilled her needs in private and silence. She sipped at the wine carefully and grimaced, then sipped again and giggled. "Tastes ... funny."

They discussed the pyres for Onya's former Master and Mistress, then the future of the slaves Baldr had just laid claim to.

"The Clan will be pleased by the honor you pay their Chieftain and his First Wife," she told him. "It will endear you to them, Master."

"You know you remind me so very much of my mother. She was a woman from the south as well."

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Onya looked up sharply at Baldr's admission of his heritage. It surprised her. Borona and Loro had only become as powerful and respected as they were because of their pure blood. It surprised Onya that a half breed could have risen to become the most powerful man in the Unnamed Untamed.

She bowed her head respectfully, telling him, "I am honored to be spoken of in the same breath as my Master's mother ... Master."

As requested, Onya led her new Master to the big tent that, because of the smoke and steam sneaking out from its seams and vent openings, always looked as if it was a moment away from exploding in flames. Inside, the Freemen working the kitchen -- bowed deeply as Onya introduced them to the Chieftain. She showed Baldr the various dishes being created, asked him his likes and dislikes, and -- when finding one of the latter -- set the cooking slaves to task having that dish immediately removed and taken to one of the many kitchens serving the Horse Warriors.

With every passing moment, Onya's appreciation for her new Master increased. He was like no other man she'd ever known. He was so much more than a brutal and power hungry killing machine like Borona had been. Baldr had a way of dealing with people that was making people of all stations like him, from slaves to Freemen to Karants.

"May I show you the Camp, Master?" Onya asked with the expected bow and tone. Stepping outside, she found Baldr's escort and, a few yards away, the Karant who had protected Onya when necessary. She waved the man forward, telling the Chieftain, "This is Yol, my Protector. May he join us?"

Showing Baldr around the camp should have been the right and privilege of the Camp's most senior Karant. But Onya was eager to remain close to her new Master, to learn more about him as quickly as possible. And she had an ulterior motive as well.

Onya led Baldr out of the tent and off into the Camp. Led might have been the wrong word. Onya let Baldr lead the way, and she simply used suggestion to aim him toward key features about which she thought he should know. She wasn't showing him anything new, of course. Baldr's own Camp included the same corrals and training fields and storage depots and more ... and, of course, things that Borona's camp didn't include. But then, introducing the Chieftain to tents and defenses and horses and such wasn't Onya's goal.

One by one, the pair passed by each of the many Karanteens -- the divisions that made up the army -- and the Karants who commanded them. She introduced each of the Karants to Baldr, and gave the conquered commanders an opportunity to pledge his fealty to the new Chieftain. And after each introduction, Onya glanced to Yol with a knowing expression.

After they'd visited each of the 10 Karanteens, Onya suggested they return to her former Mistress's tent to talk. She reached to Yol's waist and removed his belt, which supported his sword and to knives. She suspected that her Protector would not be allowed inside the tent armed with the conqueror.

"Yol, please tell our new Master what you saw out there amongst the Horse Soldiers," Onya said with a tone that was atypically demanding for a slave, even an Untouched.

"Four of the Karants cannot be trusted, m'lord," Yol said. He looked to Onya, then back to Baldr, then began identifying Karants by name and banner. When he'd finished, he looked to Onya again, asking, "Would you agree with my assessment?"

"I wouldn't have included Karant Korm, but you know the man better than I do," she said, shrugging. She looked to Baldr, telling him, "I would also add Karant Trin."

She studied the Chieftain for his reaction, wondering whether he'd ever imagined that the tour had been anything more than a meet'n'greet of his new Horse Warriors.

Baldr looked at the two in front of him, then at his childhood friend Hodr who was his chief Karant and had taken the tour with them. Smiling broadly he he sat down at the table again, picking at some leftover fruit and nuts before beginning to quietly chuckle.

"Oh poor Borona. What a marvel he had in his own tent and I guarantee he never knew it. You know far more than you are telling me Untouched and you are definitely going to be worth keeping beside me."

He looked then at the warrior who stood beside her. He casually took the weapons he had given up from Hodr and tossed them back to him. "No warrior of mine needs go unarmed around me Yol."

Seeing their surprise he merely grinned. "If I am not able to defend myself against one man in my own tent, I do not deserve to lead my own Clan. However I have always prided myself on being able to read people and I believe I am safe around him," he smiled. "As for your worries about your fellow Karrant's, don't be. I have been at this a long time and we have ways of testing the loyalties of all our new recruits. If they are found wanting then they will be punished in the usual manner."

This was not just some idle talk. Loyalty to ones clan was paramount. Anyone found trying to stir up trouble was punished severely. It could range from banishment from the Clan's lands, to being made a slave. That was the ultimate dishonor for a Warrior. To never again be allowed to touch a weapon or ride a horse.

Of course there was trouble and there was challenge. At any time a Karrant could challenge for the leadership of the clan, yet he risked his whole family if he did. That included his wife and children, but also any brothers, sisters and sometimes even their parents and their Aunts and Uncles. It was a very drastic thing so one had to be sure they could win.

Still he was very impressed with the two of them. He had known he was being subtly guided, but had allowed it, wanting to both see why she was doing it and how well she could. He suspected just visiting those ten men had not been the entirety of her plan. She had made sure to parade him around the entire camp, making sure as many people had seen him, and more importantly, her together. It not only introduced him to these clansman, but confirmed he had recognized her status and had claimed her.

This girl had a sharp mind, maybe even sharper than his Mother's and he had learned a lot from her. Defeating Borona may have been the single most important victory he had had in his life so far.

"Still, you two have done me a service. It is going to be easier to keep an eye on those men now that we know about them. We will also see if they meet regularly with any of their men. I won't tolerate rebellion in my Clan."

He looked to Hodr and the man nodded and Baldr sat back at ease. He knew that by tonight each man would have a shadow on them that no one would ever suspect.

He then turned to Yol. "So you have been in charge of protecting Onya these past three years. Tell me then, What do you think of her?"

"Oh poor Borona. What a marvel he had in his own tent and I guarantee he never knew it. You know far more than you are telling me Untouched and you are definitely going to be worth keeping beside me."

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Onya tried to hide her pleased smile but failed. She felt she had established herself as worthy of being kept. She couldn't know just how pleased Baldr was with her, though. She nodded her head in another respectful bow and said with a sincere tone, "Thank you, Master. I am your servant, yours to command."

She wasn't sure whether Baldr's comment about knowing far more than she was telling him was meant to imply that she was keeping secrets about herself or knew things about the camp that would be beneficial to him. She hoped the latter, though she suspected the former, too. She thought to herself as she raised her gaze again, Oh the secrets I keep, Master.

"No warrior of mine needs go unarmed around me Yol."

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Yol didn't try to hide his smile as Onya had tried to hide her own. He beamed as he donned the belt and adjusted the three scabbards before dropping to one knee and pledging, "I am your servant, Master. I am yours to command." He stood again, then looked to Onya, adding, "And as I pledged the day you arrived, I will die for you m'lady."

Onya smiled, then blushed. Yol was the only man in the Camp who had ever referred to her by such a title. When Borona had wanted her presence, he had always referred to as His Untouched. Loro had called her by her given name. The Freeman and slaves who liked her did, too, while the others called her a number of names, some uncharitable. But Yol, he'd always treated Onya with great respect.

After discussing the possibilities of problems within the Clan's ranks and how they would be dealt with, Baldr looked to Yol.

"So you have been in charge of protecting Onya these past three years. Tell me then, What do you think of her?"

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The body guard looked to Onya, scanned her up and down, smiled broadly, then answered, "She's a wonderful horseman, Master."

Onya burst out in laughter, blushing again as she looked to Baldr, then quickly to the ground. She murmured more for her protector than anyone else, "It was once!"

The pair of them laughed for a moment before Onya bowed to Baldr and excused herself. "You will get a more honest answer, Master, if I am not here to contradict my Protector's outrageous accusations."

Again she laughed, bowed, and headed out with the promise of returning with more and better wine from the now-dead Chieftain's private supply. Once she was gone, Yol looked to Baldr and gave his assessment. "In my humblest, Master ... Onya is the reason Clan Borona--" He hesitated, nodding his head a bit toward Baldr before correcting, "...the Clan once called Borona is what it is today. I was party to many of the Karanteen strategy meetings, as m'lady's Protector. Often Borona would appear ... unsettled with the advice from his Karants, yet after they left and I was dismissed as well, Borona and m'lady would spend hours talking with one another. Borona would then often give commands contrary to those advised by the Karants. And more often than not, the results were very beneficial to the Clan."

Yol half glanced over his shoulder as if to ensure Onya wasn't eavesdropping, then added, "I am only m'lady's Protector, Master. She had never confided in me about her life before coming to the Clan. But it is my belief that m'lady ... that Onya ... is far more than anyone other than perhaps Chief Borona and Lady Loro ever knew."

Yol gave Baldr a slight nod to indicate that he was done with his assessment of the Untouched. He would answer any question his new Chieftain asked him as best he could, then leave to stand post outside. Onya eventually returned with two slaves in tow, each carrying a large ceramic jug, one wine, one spring water. Onya waved the two away, then returned to the flaps of the tent and waved an invitation. One after another, eight female and four male slaves entered the tent, forming a semi-circle on the far side of the fire burning low but hot in the tent's middle. Onya gestured to them, and with just a couple of tugs at throng straps around necks and waists, the simple clothing they wore fell away to the floor, leaving all of them naked before Baldr.

"A gift from the Karants, Master," Onya said as if presenting a platter of dried dates.

In unison -- though not with the greatest enthusiasm -- all twelve of them bowed their heads and murmured, "I am your servant, Master. I am yours to command."

Onya stepped aside to allow Baldr to pick and choose.

Baldr heard Yol's words and was astonished. He had not thought that Borona would have listened to the council of one such as Onya, or kept any Karant that he did not trust. Yet if the man's words were to be believed, then this is what he had done. Perhaps the once great warrior he had known had indeed needed the help of his Karanteen to rule. A sad day. That indeed put a new perspective on things. It was obvious the Karant's would have known that he would be coming to challenge for the leadership of the clan. Had they not challenged Borona just so they would not have to face him? If so what did they hope to do no that he had won? Perhaps they would bear very close watching after all.

"You have given me much to think on Yol. Perhaps one day you will also tell me the story of why you think Onya is such a great horseman. If she finds it embarrassing it is probably a good one," he chuckled.

He waved the man away and watched as he stepped outside to take up a post. He sat and thought about his next move until Onya returned, although this time she was not alone. He raised an eyebrow at the two slaves as they deposited two jugs on the table and he sniffed at them. One seemed to be a very fine wine, while the other was cool water. So already she was learning his tastes.

He was about to talk with her when she dismissed those slaves then returned to the entrance to escort 12 more slaves inside. As soon as they started walking in he knew what was going on and sighed. He could not really refuse this but he did not have to enjoy this, and by the looks on these slaves faces they were not doing so either. Yet he could not dismiss them out of hand as to do so would be a huge insult.

As they dropped their robes he stood up and began to examine them. He had to admit his Karant's had picked well. The women were of different shapes and sizes, from small and petite, to large a voluptuous and most shapes in between. However they were all fit, a life of a slave did not allow one to become fat. The men were the same. Small to tall although none as tall as him and well muscled. Their cocks although flaccid he could tell would range from small to large as well.

This usually happened every time he conquered a new clan. He walked up and down the line and smiled at each of them as he gave them a thorough, but hands off, examination. He had each one turn around and looked carefully at them without making them feel like a piece of meat. he complimented each one on something special about them, including the males but eventually he returned to standing back in front of them and turned to Onya.

"So hard to choose. They are all so good. So why should I. See to it that decent clothes are found for them and they will all accompany me to the feast tonight."

He gestured for them to get dressed again and then chuckled. he did this each and every time as well and was looking forward to the expressions on the Karant's faces. He wondered if even Onya would work out his reason for doing so.

"So hard to choose. They are all so good. So why should I."

Click to expand...

Onya's lips began to spread in a smile. She'd wondered -- and almost expected -- the great warrior to simply keep all of the offerings close by for instant and spontaneous use ... or abuse, she didn"t know. But when he continued...

"See to it that decent clothes are found for them and they will all accompany me to the feast tonight."

Click to expand...

...Onya became confused. Borona had been so horny after killing a man in one to one combat that he would sometimes take one of the deceased warrior's wives, daughters, or slaves right there on the field, even before the spilling blood had ceased to flow.

"Of course, Master," Onya said with a nod, rushing the slaves back into their clothing and out to the Warriors who would hustle them off to the tent in which the sex slaves were kept and cared for. Onya inquired about the Chieftain's needs and desires for the feast and was told the name of which of Baldr's men to discuss details. She again bowed, then -- before making her way out of the tent once more -- said to the man, "Thank you, Master ... for keeping me as your Untouched. You did not have to honor me so, and I wish you to understand my appreciation. I am your servant ... always."



The feast was simply incredible. Borona and Loro had, of course thrown such celebrations. But the sheer size of Baldr's army and support divisions set the stage for an event Onya couldn't have imagined. As instructed, the offered sex slaves were prepared for Baldr. They were bathed yet again, doused in scented water, and dressed in clothing that accentuated their sexual offerings. They sat or stood at Baldr's flanks, each ready to serve in any way, whether it be fetch him some wine, dance erotically, or take his cock into their mouth.

And, as was her duty, Onya remained just feet behind her Master, ready at a moments notice to serve as demanded.

Baldr sat in the place of honor and watched as the feast began. He had made sure his army had brought extra food along for it so as not to deplete the supplies of his new clan's. Around him he had mixed together his Karan'ts and his new Karant's. This was so they got to know one another and also so his could start the feeling out process. They would be sure to stay sober while appearing drunk, yet get the new Karant's as drunk as possible. As was said, 'Wine loosened a man's tongue and brought out the truth in him'.

The wine flowed, the food was magnificent, and the people danced to the music. If their was one thing his people were good at besides fighting it was letting loose. They lived each day in a constant struggle to survive knowing it could be their last, so when the celebrated they celebrated like it was the last time they would.

When he had appeared with every one of the sex slaves, he had seen shock on his new Karant's faces. They had each been ready to gloat when their slave had been chosen. He had hid his smile, and during the night he had made sure each had filled his glass at least once and served him food. He had played no favorites so they could not say even that. Let them guess about his preference as well even though among the clan's it did not matter. Many men took male lovers although most took a female as well. Continuing your line was of the utmost importance to a warrior. Having a son to carry on your name was what all strived for. The fact that he did not at his age was the talking point of the clan. However he had pledged not to marry until he had united the whole clan's under one banner.

Finally it was time, and quiet came over all those assembled as he approached the pyres that had been set up. They had been doused in scented oils and with a prayer to the God's to guide them to the afterlife, Baldr lit both and stepped back.

They caught quickly and soon both were burning fiercely. As the flames burned high he threw back his head and yelled to the sky. Soon his voice was joined by all gathered, over 10,000 voices rang out in a fierce cry. It was a warning to the heavens that a warrior was on his way and that they best be prepared.

As the last echo's faded away, the music started up again and the celebration resumed. It would go until the pyres burned away, however with the oils that did not take long, then the holy men would perform the ceremonies on what was left while the rest of the clan slept. Tomorrow was another big day.

Returning to his place Baldr gazed out at the party and smiled, already thinking of his next battle.

Eighteen Days Later:

Onya stood in the opened flaps of what had been Loro's tent and was now her own and stared across an open space of beaten down tundra. She'd always thought Borona's tent was elegant and elaborate, but it hadn't compared to Baldr's campaign tent, neither in size, elegance, nor displayed wealth, much of it pillaged.

"Are you sure of this, m'lady?" Yol asked as he neared her, looking as she was toward the Chieftain's tent. He had already gone to Baldr's traveling home and requested an audience for his Charge, yet said to her with a hopeful tone, "You can tell him something else."

Onya looked to the man who kept her safe and said, "No ... I am not sure about this. But, I am going to do it."

"Will he believe you?" Yol asked softly, concerned about what would happen if the Chieftain thought he was being duped. "I fear that--"

"He will believe me..." Onya said with a hesitant tone, continuing, "...maybe not today ... but he will believe me all the same. He is not a man to pass an opportunity for conquest. And this--" She drew a deep breath, as unsure about what she was doing as Yol was. She expelled it and finished, "And this is the greatest of opportunities for the greatest of Chieftains."

Baldr was finally the last of the leaders in the Unnamed Untamed. After word had gotten out that the great Borona had been easily defeated, the Chief Karants of the as-of-yet only unaffiliated Clan murdered their resistant Chieftain in the night and lead their Karanteens across the tundra to pledge loyalty to Baldr.

Baldr now had at his disposal over 14,000 Horse Warriors, the greatest army the Unnamed Untamed had ever seen under one banner. There were greater armies to the south and east, but none had ever faced a force like those of the North.

Onya's dreams of reclaiming what was rightfully hers was for the first time in her life a possibility. All she had to do was get a powerful, fierce, mighty Clan chieftain to pledge his loyalty and service to an 18 year old slave girl. Easy...



Onya stepped into Baldr's tent in an elegant dress she hadn't worn since the day three years earlier when she'd been presented to Bonona for consideration as his new Untouched...


She'd grown up a bit since then, in the bosom and hips, as well as adding half a hand in height. It still fit, but it hugged tightly at her now more dramatic womanly features. She gave the Chieftain a moment to look her over before giving him not the standard slight head bow of a slave but instead the very official curtsy of the Southern courts.

Behind and a bit to the side of her, Yol stood tall and straight as he proclaimed, "My lord ... may I present ... m'lady Onya ... daughter of Rolton of the House of Mereth, King of the Meretheni Federation ... daughter of Laura of the House of Ras Rufna, granddaughter of the High Counselor of the Republic of Yalla ... Pupil of the High Priestress of Vint."

As she listened to the introduction she and her Protector had been practicing for most of the afternoon, Onya wondered just how many of these names Baldr would recognize. Oh, it wasn't because she though he was ignorant of the far lands Yol was mentioning. It was simply because all four of these one great sovereignties -- the Meretheni Federation, the Ras Rufna, the Republic of Yalla, and even the Order of Vint -- had all been destroyed during the collapse, what would come to be called the Falling Wars.

When man behind her went silent, Onya repeated her curtsy and with a tone and glance that could only have one meaning, she asked Baldr, "May I, m'lord."

Simply using m'lord rather than master was a significant change for the relationship between the Chieftain and his Untouched that Onya had already decided needed to come. Baldr had proven himself to be the greatest and most powerful leader in the Unnamed Untamed; and -- with the understanding that she was the last of the father's children -- Onya was the one, true legitimate heir to the whole of the Known World.

If not now ... when? Onya lifted the hem of her dress a bit and strode forward until she was standing just short of the Chieftain's foot stool.

"My Lord Baldr," she said with a confident tone, trying to hide the effects of the rapidly and strongly pounding heart within her. "Upon the marriage of my father, Rolton, King of the Meretheni Federation ... to my mother Laura, daughter of the Frahm of Ras Rufna, granddaughter of the High Counselor of the Republic of Yalla ... the High Priestress of Vint declared that my father's children would reign over the whole of the Known World ... that they would bring piece and prosperity to all the people ... under one banner."

Onya stepped forward a bit more, then stepped out of her left sandal and placed her bare foot on the Chieftain's stool. She splaying her toes out as wide as she could to expose the tiny but easily distinguishable tattoos between them. She looked to them, then to Baldr as she continued, "These markings from the Old Religion are proof of my birth ... of my position ... of my rightful claim to the Meretheni crown ... and more.

"I ... I don't expect you to understand their meaning." She chuckled a bit, feeling her face flush as she lowered her foot and stepped back into her sandal. "I didn't understand their meaning when they were applied to me." Again she laughed, adding, "All I knew about them was that they hurt!" She regained a bit of her composure, continuing, "But the Priests of the Order of Vint would verify with you that they are genuine ... that they mark me as who I claim to be ... and that they are proof of the claims I make."

So far, her speech had sounded very much like that of a Royal speaking to a subject. But now, Onya backed away a step, lifted her dress almost to her knees, and lowered herself to those knees, lowering her gaze to the floor before her. She continued with a tone that put her back in her place as subject and servant, saying, "Master ... for most of my life I have fantasized of having back the life I once knew ... of seeing an end to the horrors and bloodshed that the Falling Wars brought to the people..."

Onya was no idiot. She knew that to end the current conflicts, a final bloody blow would have to be struck against those who rose up against the House of Mereth and its allies so many years earlier. Peace in the Known World was only achievable through death. Onya knew that. If she hadn't, she wouldn't be throwing herself on the mercy of the Unnamed Untamed's greatest shedder of blood.

"I, daughter of Rolton of the House of Mereth, am the legitimate heir to the Known World. You, my lord ... my master ... are the greatest warrior the Known World has ever seen."

Onya wasn't quite sure whether that was precisely true or not, but she certainly wasn't going to say that here. Baldr had 14,000 fierce, horse mounted fighters. There were other larger armies, maybe even some with large cavalries, maybe even some as well organized as the Northern Clans. But were there armies in the South capable of standing up to the barbarians of the Unnamed Untamed. Onya doubted not. And more than that, she hoped not.

"I beg of you, master," she continued, only now looking up into Baldr's eyes. She could have put the Chieftain first in her next statement and herself second, but then, Onya was the one with only the claim to power while Baldr was the one with the real power ... the very real and big army. So she said quite diplomatically, "Let me join you in your quest to conquer the Known World. Let me give legitimacy to your claim over the South..."

Then, as if to show how important this was to her, Onya leaned her head forward to expose the back of her neck in a tragic way as she finished, "...or release me from my years of want and desires ... and let me join my lost family in the Fires of Un."

Deleted. Moved to a separate thread.

Deleted. Moved to a separate thread.

Three days earlier.

Col. Blood, late of any number of Free Companies, Grand Companies, Routiers, Free Booters, Reivers, mercs, guardas, militias, was a cautious man, which accounted for his continued existence in spite of the disappearance of most of his former employers, including a particularly nasty outfit calling themselves "lawmen".

Because he was a cautious man he knew how close to approach the low rise in the road, beyond which carrion birds circled some tragedy of the little forest trail he was taking from somewhere to somewhere else. He stepped off the trail into the woods and waited. And waited more. There was nothing but the squabbling of crows and grackles, possibly a blue tipped vulture but this was too far east for their normal territory although there was only one and presumably unmated. No human sounds, so he stepped out of cover and walked over the hillside to see what he expected to see after the cloud of birds parted in screeching irritation.

There had been an ambush and slaughter -- a thorough slaughter. He wasn't sure how many bodies there were, no less than 15, no more than 30, and a dozen dead horses. Two days ago. The stench was horrendous, and he lit a prime seegar to mask the smell. There was little else to see, much less to pilfer. One wagon with a smashed axle remained upright. He decided to rifle a saddlebag, which yielded a hard biscuit and a water bottle. As he stood up, he noticed the horse had fallen on and smashed a wooden box.

He managed to lever off enough of the dead animal to pry the box free. It was stuffed with papers, parchment, scrolls, maps, leather-bound books. Not a letter could he read, but the junk might be sellable as curios, maybe pay his fare back home to the land of the Frenks, or ... just where was home? He wasn't sure. He wasn't sure of his name either, after all this time, which wasn't "Blood", or his status in life, which wasn't "Colonel".

He extracted a silver and ivory-framed parchment, rolled the balance of the papers into a cloak from a less eviscerated victim, and cached it 100 yards off the trail, carefully taking bearings so he could return, if he had to.


Three days later.

The potential mark was a merchant and wealthy, just as the barman promised. And he was intrigued by the tale the well-travelled Col. Blood wove about this wonderous albeit unreadable scroll from Antiquity, in a frame of bone and the finest silver from the north of Spain, which the merchant had never heard of and therefore must be Exotic and worth the handful of half-vintis asked by the Colonel. The merchant wasn't totally sold on this, well, traveller's tale, but the Colonel had arranged with the barkeep to top off the merchant's mug with cask-strength ale, so his normally fine-honed mercantile sense was dulled to a warm, soft-edge. Holding the meeting in the half light of a midnight tavern added to the exotic ambiance, and made a close inspection that much harder.

The merchant considered, this so-called Colonel asked for 10, he could resell for 13 and 3/8s at least. He reached into his coin purse, started counting out the price.

Deleted. Moved to a separate thread.

Baldr had been surprised when Yol had come to him asking if Onya may visit him. As a servant she was permitted free access to his tent at all times, however this sounded almost formal. He had nodded to the man and sat in his favorite stool awaiting the girl.

It had been many days since they had left the camp grounds of Borona's ex Clan. It would still be several more until they reached his own new village. He was pleased that his timetable had been moved up. Seven days ago the Karanteen of Jurger had ridden up with their clan in tow and pledged their loyalty. Two days later the last of the clans, Felstad, had done the same. Both had been holding out for a long time, more from pride than good sense. Felstad had been killed by his own wife, who had ridden in proudly to hand over control of her clan.

Now he was the absolute chieftain of the North. He was going to change how his people lived and make their lives better. No more just surviving, soon they would have luxuries and places to live. However he knew some would cling to the old ways and that was good. He still wanted his horse warriors, he just wanted them to have a better life.

His thoughts were disturbed when Onya entered and Yol began to introduce her. In truth he only half paid attention to the man as he gazed upon her. Gone were the ill fitting clothes of a slave, although he had got her better fitting ones. In their place was a beautiful gown made from expensive material. It was worth a lot he could tell and he was shocked she still had it.

It fit her well, accentuating her figure very nicely, although he could tell it had been made for her when she was smaller. The way the hem showed too much ankle, the sleeves did not quite hide her wrists, how tight it was around her breasts, and how snug it was around her hips. Still it was very pleasing to his eye and made him see her in a whole knew light as she had bathed and washed her hair as well, making sure she was very presentable.

Then the titles Yol was rattling off penetrated his brain. His mother had been very thorough in his education. If she truly was related to all these people she was a very valuable slave indeed, in fact she was a Princess above all others. He smiled then put his hand over his mouth and stroked his chin to hide it. For her to reveal herself she had to want something. He waited for her to speak.

"My Lord Baldr," she said with a confident tone, trying to hide the effects of the rapidly and strongly pounding heart within her. "Upon the marriage of my father, Rolton, King of the Meretheni Federation ... to my mother Laura, daughter of the Frahm of Ras Rufna, granddaughter of the High Counselor of the Republic of Yalla ... the High Priestress of Vint declared that my father's children would reign over the whole of the Known World ... that they would bring piece and prosperity to all the people ... under one banner."

So her father had once had a dream like himself, only he had hoped it would be fulfilled by his children. His mother had explained how the south chose their rulers not by might, but by titles and birthright. It had confused him. He had asked a lot of questions, mainly about if that person was stupid or sickly what right did he have to rule? His mother had just shrugged and explained it was the law. Baldr had still not understood and considered them stupid. No clansman would follow an incompetent leader.

Onya then stepped out of her Sandal and showed him a series of Tattoo's between her toes. Nodding his head he marveled at the intricacies of the thing. Whoever had done them was an artist. He could also understand their placement. Who would know about them or see them at a casual glance. He himself had never done so. It was a brilliant way to prove someones birthright.

"These markings from the Old Religion are proof of my birth ... of my position ... of my rightful claim to the Meretheni crown ... and more.

"I ... I don't expect you to understand their meaning." She chuckled a bit, feeling her face flush as she lowered her foot and stepped back into her sandal. "I didn't understand their meaning when they were applied to me." Again she laughed, adding, "All I knew about them was that they hurt!" She regained a bit of her composure, continuing, "But the Priests of the Order of Vint would verify with you that they are genuine ... that they mark me as who I claim to be ... and that they are proof of the claims I make."

He nodded at her. "I have no doubt that they will. However so far you have not told me why you are telling me all this. You are only making your worth as my slave that much higher. In fact were I now to sell you I could ask a truly fantastic price with all that you have revealed to me."

He waited to see what she would do. Of course he had no intentions of ever getting rid of her, far from it in fact. She was too intruiging and if the truth was told he was beginning to enjoy having the girl around. She was one of the few people he could talk freely around and who had a mind as sharp as his own. The fact that she was beautiful also might have something to do with it, although he was not ready to admit that to himself just yet.

"I beg of you, master," she continued, only now looking up into Baldr's eyes. She could have put the Chieftain first in her next statement and herself second, but then, Onya was the one with only the claim to power while Baldr was the one with the real power ... the very real and big army. So she said quite diplomatically, "Let me join you in your quest to conquer the Known World. Let me give legitimacy to your claim over the South..."

Then, as if to show how important this was to her, Onya leaned her head forward to expose the back of her neck in a tragic way as she finished, "...or release me from my years of want and desires ... and let me join my lost family in the Fires of Un."

So she knew of his plans to do that. That just proved his point. Not even his closest advisors had worked out his next step and already this girl...no woman had put two and two together. Oh he truly needed her by his side. There was no way he could sacrafice someone like her to Un.

"You will not be journeying to Un this night, or anytime soon, if I can help it Girl," he told her. "Now stand up and come sit beside me. I believe we have much to discuss. It will be several days until we get back to my village and you will be spending every night in this tent." He smiled at that thought. "You best be careful, pretty soon there may come a time when your 'untouched' status might be questioned," he chuckled. "You best have your Protector watch us very closely."

"You will not be journeying to Un this night..."

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Onya hadn't been in any fear for her life, of course. As Baldr himself was thinking, she was simply too valuable to have her head dispatched. But she needed to stress to him her total commitment if he was to believe her claim.

"Now stand up and come sit beside me. I believe we have much to discuss.

Click to expand...

She was taken aback a bit by the invitation. In three years of service as an Untouched, Onya had only ever sat behind and to the side of her Chieftains while they held discussions with others; or on her knees before them and they chatted with her, one on one, about any range of serious or less so topics. Sitting next to Baldr was as close to putting her on an equal footing with a Chieftain as she'd ever been.

As she sat next to him, Baldr joked about her status as an Untouched -- specifically the pure of body portion -- adding that her Protector might need to begin sleeping in the tent with them. Onya had been thinking about her virginity -- specifically the loss of it -- since long before she'd told Yol her plans tonight.

Baldr may not have understood -- let alone approved of -- the concept of hereditary succession, but Onya had been raised in a culture driven by it. By the laws of the land, she was the heir to the Known World, presuming of course that the stories of her older siblings deaths were accurate. But Onya wasn't an idiot, and she knew that those little tattoos between her toes wouldn't win her a throne and crown. Baldr's Horsemen would.

Of course, Baldr was going to want something if he loaned Onya his Horde. He was going to want Onya. He was going to want Onya as his wife. And he was going to want Onya as his lover. He was going to want to seed her and produce a male heir who would follow Onya -- follow Baldr -- as ruler of the Known World.

"My father is--" The words stuck in Onya's throat, and she looked down from Baldr, fearful she might begin crying. With the exception of the Priests at the Temple of Virta, then later the Temple of Vint, she hadn't talked to anyone about her parents in more than half a decade. She cleared her throat, blinked away the tears, then looked up and continued, recapping what she'd already told him about her parents' Royal positions. "When the day came for my eldest brother to ascend to the throne, the whole of the Known World would finally be ruled from one throne."

Onya's vision blurred as her eyes glazed over. She'd never been able to talk about the loss of her siblings without crying. She regained her composure, continuing, "I was the youngest child. But, one by one, my siblings--" She drew a deep breath, exhaled, and continued, "Three of us ... the youngest ... escaped, only to be captured and -- in my case, at least -- sold into slavery. The Federation collapsed under the pressures of warfare, as did most of the world's great lands, of course. Civilization fell ... Houses fell ... people suffered ... continue to suffer. The lack of law and order ... more than a decade of despair and destruction ... it has torn our world apart."

Her gaze had been wandering all about, mostly below Baldr's face. But now she looked the Chieftain directly in the eyes as she told him with determined sincerity, "If I were to return to Fothala ... to the capital of the Meretheni Federation ... with the High Priestess of the Order of Vint to confirm my identity and claim and pave the way to the crown ... and an army of Horse Warriors at my back to secure it--"

She took a chance here, reaching a hand out and laying it softly upon Baldr's. She couldn't know if the Chieftain had even contemplated the idea of being her husband. She was sure he'd contemplated the idea of being her lover. But spouse? She continued with boldness, "And a fierce, confident ... King ... at my side..."

She stopped here, simply staring into Baldr's eyes wondering three things: was she doing the right thing suggestion a union between herself and the warrior; would the warrior want to involve himself in such politics or instead try to conquer the South without her legitimacy; and, if he chose union, was she in danger of being carried to his bed here and now and robbed of her Untouched status...?

Baldr listened as Onya talked about her Father and her Siblings. He had known exactly what her Tattoo's meant and how the succession process worked through his mothers teachings, but perhaps it was best to play the ignorant Barbarian for now. Still he was moved by her tale. To have so many siblings die was tragic. In a culture which prided itself on caring for it's children, to listen to this was a tragedy. He felt truly sorry for her.

CutiePie1997 said:

"If I were to return to Fothala ... to the capital of the Meretheni Federation ... with the High Priestess of the Order of Vint to confirm my identity and claim and pave the way to the crown ... and an army of Horse Warriors at my back to secure it--"

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Ahh so this was her plan, even though he had already guessed it. No wonder she had waited until now to reveal herself. He had finally united all the Clan's and now had a sizeable force and the power to command them without leaving himself vulnerable in his own lands. Besides which his plans coincided with hers. He wanted more and richer lands for his people and she was offering them to him. However he could just take them, what was she going to offer in return?

She continued with boldness, "And a fierce, confident ... King ... at my side..."

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Baldr's eyes widened in surprise. She was offering herself. A truly large prize indeed but only if her claim was true and if they could win the war. Still he would like to take her for his wife anyway but he could not let her know that or his bargaining position would be weakened. He had vowed not to take a wife until all the clan's had been united but that task had now been done and he was free to pursue any woman he chose. He would have to think long and hard on this though.

Still it was best to test her resolve.

"So you wish me to be by your side as your King. Perhaps we should have this wedding take place before we set out to make sure you do not back out of your promise then. We will be home soon and I can have all the high priests and Karanteen assembled several days after that. In fact if I send riders now they can be there when we arrive. Preparations will take several days and then we can be wed. What say you to this proposal?"

He was very interested in how she would answer. He wanted to see just how committed she was to her dream.

Onya was both very pleased and very fearful as Baldr mirrored her thoughts about the pair being wed.

Very pleased, because with the battle experienced Clans behind him, Baldr was likely the most powerful man in the Known World right now. There were -- or at the least had been -- larger armies to the south; and there were -- or again had been -- worthy leaders, backed by well trained, highly intelligent tacticians who knew how to lead attacks, maintain defenses, or both.

But if what Onya had heard and seen during the half of her 18 years while she'd been in flight, much of that was now gone. The Falling Wars had been devastating on the Three Sovereignties. (map)

The Meretheni Federation, from which Onya had come, had collapsed under its own weight. Drought had led to starvation and disease; while increasing taxes had led to civil unrest and anger amongst the Barons. The combination of the two had led to issues between the Barons and the King they served -- Rolton, Onya's father -- until finally conflict broke out. The Barons had worked together to lay siege to Fothala, the Federation's capital; and once they had conquered the city, the Barons each had gone their own separate way as free Baronies.

Onya had heard during her time in Vint -- just before being captured by slavers and brought north to the Unnamed Untamed -- that the Barons had continued to battle amongst one another. The droughts, famine, disease, and unrest that had led to the war there had only gotten worse over the last decade.

Things had been even worse in Ras Rufna. A combination of invasions from the Unnamed Untamed, controversial marriages between Clan Chieftains and Ras Rufna Noblewomen, and conflicts between those who were or were not loyal to the Frahm had led to massacres of entire villages and towns and the burning of once great cities. Onya had heard that the northern cities had had it worse. Sipriot, Nolk, Lentfrenk, and Norla had been utterly destroyed, and even though it still stood, the capital city of Ras Rufna was but a shadow of its once great self.

Onya didn't know much about the third sovereignty, the Republic of Yalla. It had been the most democratic of the three sovereignties, with a Congress in which elected officials served the people of their towns and cities. And while the Republic had had the greatest navy the Known World had ever seen, it hadn't had the ground forces necessary to protect its inland cities, which fell during the Falling Wars.

There was, of course, the fourth sovereignty, that of the Order of Vint. Onya sometimes found it ironic that the fall of the Known World's greatest religious order sometimes seemed like more of a loss than even that of her own land, and sometimes even that of her own family. Was it because the Old Religion had been such an integral part of life south of the Unnamed Untamed? Or was it because Onya had spent three years of her life under the care and in the instruction of the High Priestess herself? The thought of the great cities and temples of the Order being sacked and stripped of their wealth had sometimes made Onya cry.

And it wasn't just gold she thought of when she thought wealth. The Order of Vint had been the collector and protector of knowledge. The Library of Virta had once contained more scripts, scrolls, books, maps, and other knowledge than all the Houses of the rest of the Known World combined! And it had been burned! What kind of savages did that?

Onya looked up into Baldr's eyes at that last thought. Savages. During her time with the slaver who eventually sold her to Borona, Onya had heard that it was Chieftains from the Unnamed Untamed who had invaded Virt and destroyed the Library of Vint. She had come to hate the northern Clans even before she'd been sold to her first Chieftain. And yet, during three years of listening to Borona and his Karants brag about their exploits on the battlefields -- some of which had been to the south in the Fenwater and Northwest Vint -- never once had she heard any of them mention the Great Library.

Onya had waited patiently for Borona to speak those words -- "I sacked Virta!" -- so that she could put a blade into the back of his neck. And yet, nothing. She'd come to the conclusion that if anyone had destroyed her treasured Library, it had been men of the South. Men she would destroy one day.

With Baldr.

"What say you to this proposal?"

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Onya smiled to her Master, her Chieftain, and -- it seemed -- no her betrothed. She squeezed her small hand around his larger, more powerful one, and said with a smile, "I can hardly wait ... my King."

She actually could wait, of course ... not concerning the wedding, but concerning the coupling that would surely follow. In the South, there had often been political marriages that hadn't been consummated for days, months, even years after the exchange of vows, but here in the North, Onya had witnessed marriages between and within Clans that had been consummated before the bride and groom had even made it to their tents.

She released her hold on Baldr's hand and rose, not wanting to look hurried to get away. She gave him a slight bow again and told him, "We will do great things together." She let her eyes fall from Baldr's face to his incredible body, then gave him an even deeper bow of respect and admiration as she added, "And I will give you sons, my King ... many sons, to continue your greatness for decades and centuries to come..."

She looked to him again and smiled wider, saying with a bit of humor, "But ... not tonight ... for the Moon is not right--"

Of course, that had nothing to do with the moon but was actually a comment on her current menstruation situation, something she thought she'd never be discussing with a male. She continued with what was more an excuse to prevent Baldr from wanting to take her here and now, "--and the great Goddess Un will only bless me with a First Son after and if our union has been blessed by an anointed Priest of the Order of Vint."

Onya donned a feigned expression of concern as she stood a bit taller and asked, "Where, my King, will we find a Priest of the Order of Vint?"

Onya was pulling out all the stops now, part of the very fearful part of being wed to the great barbarian Chieftain. Baldr was going to fuck her soon. She had no doubt about that. She was surprised he hadn't done it all ready. He'd gotten by so far without an Untouched on his side. He hadn't needed to keep her pure, and yet he had.

They were to be wed now, and they would become lovers. But that didn't mean Onya was in a hurry to see that happen. She knew nothing about sex. Nothing! Well, she'd watched the horses fuck out on the tundra; and she'd seen couples from the Clan couple on occasion. But she'd never talked about it with anyone, not even with her former Mistress, Loro. Part of the mystique of being an Untouched was that she was to remain as far from the carnal knowledge and experience of sexual pleasure as possible.

Hell, Onya didn't even masturbate!

So, no one could blame her for trying to delay her marriage to and coupling with this great warrior for a few more days, maybe even weeks. Despite the confidence with which she'd proposed the couple join -- militarily and politically -- she was shaking inside at the thought of the magnificent Baldr actually being inside her.

She asked with a bit of childishness in her tone, "My king, can we send someone to Vint ... to find an anointed Priest?"

Baldr smiled at the girl, for girl she was. He had expected her to pull away from him and give him some excuse why she could not wed until after his warriors had done their job, but she was willing to marry him before that as long as it was done by a Priest of Vint. Of course no such Priest was present in Clan lands, but it would not prove too difficult to get one. It would only delay their wedding by several weeks. Still he had a suspicion why Onya wanted the wedding delayed. He saw how the girl looked at him. While there was some attraction there, there was also concern and fear. Oh he knew the fear was not directed at him personally, but more at what this union meant. She had never been touched and he would be surprised if anyone had even talked to her about sex. She was afraid of the wedding night and what was expected of her.

While Baldr himself was no great expert in that department, he knew he would be gentle and caring with her, but she needed someone to talk to who was wise in the ways of men and women. Unfortunately he did not know anyone and truth to tell he was embarrassed to ask any of his men. Hopefully a solution would present itself before their wedding night. As for the other problem, well he had a solution for that.

"Don't worry my beloved, getting a priest will not prove difficult. Why there are plenty in Vint still, so we shall just travel there to be married."

He smiled at her shocked expression and continued. "It will kill two birds with one stone little one. I will find out if those tattoo's are real and if they mean what you claim, and if so we can be wed right away. The priests of Vint can bless the union and also proclaim that a new king and queen have arisen to claim their rightful place and woe to anyone that opposes them."

He looked at her and smiled widely. "When we get back home I will announce our engagement and select the warriors that will accompany us. We will set out for Vint by the start of next week."

Baldr was as good as his word. The assembled Karanteen's and holy men were skeptical at first but once Baldr had Onya show her feet and the tale was told most came around. The others were convinced by the plan to war against the south. Baldrs plan called for the clans to mass on the border between Fenwater and Vint. He would travel to Virta to be wed and then send riders back so the invasion could begin.

All towns would be given the option to surrender and join under the banner of the rightful rulers of the Known World, King Baldr and Queen Onya. Failure to do so would result in being burnt to the ground and sacked. His warriors knew what to do, they were experts.

A small force was to be left at home to protect the homeland from attack from the sea and to care for the wounded as they were sent home. They would also be back up troops if needed. The men all drew lots for this duty with the Karants doing that duty. The unlucky ones cursing and the lucky ones whooping. However Baldr assured the ones staying at home that they would get their chance as he would rotate the troops so everyone fought and everyone got time at home. This pleased them and made all the troops happier.

In one week the bulk of his troops set out for the border. Of his troops,10,000 set out to man the border with a further 2000 to travel with Baldr to travel to Virta. Just over 2000 protected the homeland plus 4-5000 freeman who if needed could be armed. Baldr felt sure his home was well protected.

It took a little over a week to ride to the border and then he left his troops. Only his guard would be traveling with him, no slaves, no freeman, just horseman and Onya. They would be faster this way and truly who would want to tangle with 2000 clan troops? Smiling Baldr gave the order and they set out for Virta.

"Don't worry my beloved, getting a priest will not prove difficult. Why there are plenty in Vint still, so we shall just travel there to be married."

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Onya had been trying to find a way to back out of the tent without appearing to do so in haste, but Baldr's declaration cemented her sandaled feet to the floor.

"We...?" she asked with surprise, adding as an afterthought, "...Master?"

Onya's long term plan was, of course, to return to the South ... key words being long term. She'd expected Baldr to suggest sending a squad south to invite an anointed Priest to come north. It hadn't even occurred to her that he would suggest the pair of them headed south instead.

"It will kill two birds with one stone little one.

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As she listened, Onya's mind was racing with thoughts. She'd left Vint for the Unnamed Untamed -- not by choice, of course -- more than three years ago. Three years ago, as she was being led north by a rope tied at one end to a horse cart and the other to her bound wrists, all Onya had wanted was to return to Vint. But now, the thought was at the same time frightening and phenomenal.

Onya's return to the South would be with an army at her back and a future King at her side. Baldr might not have been the Noble her father would have wanted to see her with ... but by the Goddess Un, could he have even imagined such a thing?



Two weeks later, they were crossing the North River via a bridge the forward patrols had seized, leaving the Unnamed Untamed and entering Vint. Onya couldn't contain her smile as she listened to the hooves of her horse clomping on the thick oak planks. When Baldr looked her way, she laughed, a bit embarrassed by her youthful glee, explaining, "This bridge ... it's the same one I crossed as a slave. Now ... I'm crossing it as a Queen. Well ... as a future Queen."



By the time they made camp, Onya was exhausted ... and beat. She'd never ridden that far in such a short time in all her life. Yol assisted her down from her horse, then inconspicuously held her arm as she regained her stance. She looked up into his eyes and laughed, embarrassed. She looked about for eavesdroppers, then boldly said, "My ass ... hurts! How do they do this?"

Yol only laughed and shrugged, not sure how to respond to his current Mistress and future Queen's comment and question. He took the lead of Onya's horse and headed for the mobile corral, leaving her in the care of Gree, the Hand Maiden Onya had chosen to be her only servant on the road to Virta. They made their way to a tiny tent that the Bodyguard Baldr had assigned to her was almost setting up.

"Gree, please go to my Lord Baldr," Onya began telling the girl, using the term Lord as she had been since they'd decided they would soon be married. Baldr was still Onya's master in a sense, as legally she was still his slave. But he hadn't treated her that way since the moment he'd told her she would be his bride. She continued, a bit of pain evident in her voice, "Please inform him that I am spent and will be going directly to bed." She laughed, adding, "I'm sure he will understand."

After Gree returned, the two worked at getting Onya out of her riding clothes, washed down with a rag and some warm water Yol had delivered, and into her sleeping gown. Onya was asleep in no time at all...



...but she didn't remain so for long, as she awoke suddenly from a nightmare at the sound of Gree asking, "Mistress ... Mistress! Should I join you, Mistress?"

Onya's mind was hazy, with images of ghostly riders -- Priests, she thought later -- riding atop gigantic horses as they rode down black skinned peasants running naked across the snow. Later, as she recalled the dream, she would wonder what it meant yet find no answers. The light of the small fire and a nearby torch lit up the girl's face, and Onya could see the concern in her eyes. "What is it, Gree? What's wrong?"

"You're trembling, Mistress," the slave answered. "You are suffering a black dream ... and you are cold." Gree reached out to touch Onya's arm, which was noticeably cold to the touch. "Do you wish me to sleep next to you ... to keep you warm?"

Onya only now realized that she was shivering, almost violently. Many nights, after the Clan had moved to a new location, Yol had made Onya's bed over a layer of dirt that itself was spread over a bed of hot coals. But tonight, Onya had been to eager to get under the furs to bother with it. She lifted the furs, and Gree slipped inside, urging Onya to roll away to her side. The servant spooned her Mistress, wrapping her arms around her tightly and putting her face close to the back of Onya's, allowing her exhalation to warm the shivering teen's neck.

After a while, Gree asked, "Better, Mistress?"

"Much," Onya answered, tightening her grip on the girl's arms, which crossed her belly and chest. One last shiver crawled up her spine before she giggled and complimented, "You're better than a layer of burning coal."



The next morning, Onya awoke alone to find Gree already preparing her Mistress's breakfast, courtesy of Yol who had brought it in just minutes earlier. The Night Cook had roasted some rabbits killed on the trail, as well as some fish taken from the North River, in addition to brewing some Root Tea.

"Did Mistress sleep well?" Gree asked as she sat next to the woman of a similar age. When Onya answered with a thankful smile and a nod, stuffing her mouth with the surprisingly soft meat, Gree asked, "Would Mistress like me to sleep with her each night until we find a priest and you are married to the Master?"

Onya laughed. "I don't think Yol would appreciate that."

Gree flushed a bright red, not realizing that Onya was fully aware about with whom the slave had been fulfilling her sexual needs. They talked and laughed about it for a long moment, sharing the food, until Onya donned a more serious expression.

"Can you teach me?" she asked in a soft voice. When Gree made it clear that she didn't understand, Onya clarified, "Can you teach me what I need to know ... about coupling ... about what you do with Yol?"

Gree's eyes widened. "Teach you, Mistress? Didn't Mistress Loro teach you?"

"No," Onya said simply, now blushing herself. She giggled a bit before saying, "I ... I have no idea of what to expect ... no idea of what to do. Lord Baldr ... he will be disappointed in me. He will find another to fulfill his needs."

"No, Mistress!" Gree countered quickly. "You are his Queen."

"Not yet," Onya laughed. "And ... that doesn't always mean what you think it means, Gree."

As she nibbled at some rabbit, Onya remembered once when she was little, maybe six or seven, sneaking about the Courtiers' rooms because she thought she'd heard her father's voice. She had, and when she'd found him, he was naked on his knees in the middle of a massive bed, slamming his groin against the backside of a woman not her mother, causing the woman to cry out repeatedly until she finally collapsed upon the bed. Onya hadn't understood what it all meant at the time, but the plain fact that after she'd been caught peeking, the punishment and subsequent presentation of a brand new pony if she kept the incident to herself told Onya that her father's actions hadn't been something he should have been doing.

"I will teach you, Mistress," Gree said. The two began right away, with the slave inquiring exactly what Onya did know and starting from there.



Each night when the Guard set up camp, after Onya had spend the necessary time with her future husband and -- if Yol was lucky -- Gree slipped away to a private place to fulfill the Protector's needs, the servant returned to her Mistress's tent to teach her something more about the quality time men and women spend with one another. That very first night, they'd shared nothing but discussion, but each successive night had entailed some hands on training.

Gree had taught Onya how to kiss, then showed her the delight of having hands caress the skin. Laying Onya back into a pile of pillows while she did the same, facing her Mistress with both of their knees high and wide, Gree had pointed out the features between their legs, explained their purposes, and -- with a great deal of hesitance on Onya's part -- even been able to get the future queen to touch her own features, though only enough to make her understand just how sensitive they were.

The next night, Onya gave Gree permission to sleep in Yol's tent, something the pair weren't supposed to do while the Karanteen was on the road. In her bed alone, Onya reached to between her legs and discovered the wonder and beauty of climax for the first time. She passed out to the euphoria exploding within her, waking the next morning to Gree's smirking face. All Onya could do was blush, giggle, and go on with her day.

They were halfway to Virta when Gree came into the tent one evening and said with a bit of hesitance, "Mistress, you should see it for yourself ... so you know what to expect ... so you aren't shocked."

Onya didn't understand and asked innocently, "What are you talking about?"

Gree answered by sticking the extended index finger of one hand through the circle she formed with the thumb and index finger of the other hand, jerking it back and forth a couple of times before offering, "Yol and I. You could watch us."

Onya was horrified at the suggestion, blushing so deep red she thought her head was going to explode. She refused explicitly, so much so that Gree spent the rest of the day fearing she would be casted aside as a servant or given to the Horse Warriors or both. Yet, on the third night after her offer, as Gree was washing her Mistress's naked body, Onya's level of excitement and curiosity got the best of her.

They devised a plan in which Onya claimed to be going to Baldr's tent for dinner and discussion but instead hid behind a semi-sheer drapery that Gree claimed was hanging to dry. The two lovers stripped and fucked in Onya's bed, barely two yards from where she was concealed, desperate to slide her hands between her thighs and pleasure herself as she had so often now. Yol showed surprise in his lover's adventurous nature this night. Gree urged him to do her in a number of positions, then pushed him down her frame until he was driving her crazy with his head between her quivering thighs.

Then, when Gree feared Onya could handle no more education, she suddenly told Yol to leave, saying, "My Mistress will be back soon. You must go."

Once he was gone, the two laid together talking and giggling and practically shrieking at times. They fell asleep in one another arms with Onya feeling as though she was finally ready to be the lover her King desired.



And the timing couldn't have been better, because before sundown the next day, Baldr and Onya were sitting high in their saddles atop a tall hill, looking down into a wide landscape that included two things Onya hadn't seen in three years: the vast blueness of the inner Sea, stretching on to the horizon as if it were an endless body, rather than a small ocean encompassed by land on all sides; and, on its shore and looking far less impressive than the last time Onya was here, the knowledge capital of the Territory of the Order of Vint, the now nearly destroyed city of Virta in all its lost glory...

Baldr had been busy on the trail between his lands and the city of Vint. He had not had much time to spend with his betrothed as he wished, but he had made what time he could for her every night. He had laughed the first night when she had hastily withdrawn into her tent complaining she was feeling tired. Anyone could tell she was a novice to the saddle and while she had been fine while they had been traveling at the sedate pace of a clan's movements, now that they were traveling at a true warriors pace she would have to learn to toughen up.

Baldr would have a word with her slave. There were salves and ointments that could be massaged into the tired muscles that would not only make them feel better, but would also toughen them up and provide relief that way.

As the days passed he noticed that Onya began to get used to her saddle and smiled. It would not look good if the wife he had chosen could not ride like a warrior. It would have made him look weak, and indeed some would have taken it as a sign he could be challenged. Now however it just looked that he had chosen well, and that his bride to be was worthy to ride beside him.

Each day as his outriders reported to him about the lay of the land, he had Onya sit next to him. Once all the reports had been given he had her sit in with the discussions he had with his Karanteens. He wanted them to get used to the fact that she would soon be his wife and he wanted to show that she did have a brain in her head. The knowledge she provided was incalculable. Her knowledge of the lands and of the cities proved valuable for him to paint a picture in his mind of how this land was fairing, and the fact was it was not doing well.

His scouts reported ruins and farms that were overgrown and abandoned. What few towns they spotted were all fortified, albeit poorly in most cases with wooden walls that looked poorly built and maintained. There was evidence of troops but more evidence of bandits although they did not show themselves to any of his groups. Probably deciding that they had easier prey so why try to take on sharks in a pool of minnow's.

Baldr digested all of this and knew that if need be he could sweep into this land and have it under clan rule within a fortnight. A few victories here and there and word would do most of his work for him. Most towns would open their gates and invite him in instead of risking bloodshed.

As they finally topped a hill and spied the vastness of the inner sea, Baldr called a halt. He gazed down at the sheer expanse of the inner sea and marveled at it. Of course he had seen the ocean in his own lands, but this was surrounded on all sides by the land mass of the known world. Lowering his gaze he got his first sight of the great city of Virta. To say it was a let down was an understatement. He had heard tales from his mother of the brilliance of this city. How all the Lords, Kings, and Rulers made pilgrimages to it so that they could study in it's great library that was said to hold all the vast knowledge of the world within it.

Now it was a collection of ruins held together by a few hardy souls, that seemed to be making a living in certain parts of a once great city. Baldr just hoped that the priesthood was still around.

"Well my beloved shall we go and see if there is a priest to be found in these ruins. I hope so as I am looking forward to making you my wife," he smiled at her.

He knew of her slaves nightly activities although he did not know all that she had done. He only knew that Onya had taken an interest in learning about the goings on between a man and a woman. He was actually glad as he did not want her too shocked about want happened on their wedding night, however he did hope there was a bit of mystery involved.

Now:

"Well my beloved shall we go and see if there is a priest to be found in these ruins. I hope so as I am looking forward to making you my wife."

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Onya smiled knowingly, then turned her face away from her soon-to-be-husband, feeling a fiery blush about to explode across her face as she recalled the news she'd gotten a few hours earlier, just before they'd reached the view of Virta...



Two hours ago:

A pair of Outriders rode up hard and fast to the Company's front, skidding their horses to a halt on either side of their Chieftain to report what they had seen up ahead. As the procession slowed to a stop, Onya wheeled her horse around to find Gree, whose saddle bag included some berries the pair had picked the day before. Onya found Yol leaning from his horse, whispering into his lover's ear but staring directly at his Chieftain's future bride. The Protector turned his horse away slowly and walked it away, as Gree walked her own horse up close to Onya and leaned in.

"They have heard us, Mistress ... your Bodyguard," the servant whispered, mentioning the warriors assigned to guard the future Queen of the Unnamed Untamed and, if all went well, the entirety of the Known World. When Onya only gave the young woman a confused expression, Gree clarified, "They have heard us ... at night ... together. They have been talking."

Onya blushed a bright red. She looked around for anyone staring her way, then -- seeing no undue attention -- asked, "Talking...? What are they saying?"

Gree repeated the same survey for eavesdroppers and oglers before answering, "That their Untouched is no longer ... untouched."

Onya feel her heart pounding, hard and fast. She wasn't sure why she was embarrassed, but she most definitely was. Men -- her Bodyguard and, more than likely, the rest of the 2000 warriors following her and Baldr south -- were talking about what she was doing with another woman at night ... naked in her bed. That surely wasn't a good thing ... right? But then Onya noticed the slight smile of delight on her servant's lips. She asked, "What is it?"

"They say you are ready."

"Ready...?" Onya asked, oblivious. "Ready for what?"

Gree now looked oblivious, or at the least confused by Onya's own confusion. "Ready, Mistress ... ready to be wife."

The two hadn't had time to finish the conversation as Baldr called forward more Outriders and probing units to go down and look upon their destination...



Now, again:

But in that two hours of riding forth, Onya had had the time to contemplate her servant's report ... the Bodyguard's likely whispers and their meanings ... and, most importantly, Baldr's looking forward to comment. The Chieftain wasn't looking forward to simply formalizing his marriage to Onya, of course. He was looking forward to parting Onya's thighs and claiming her untouched.

But, was it untouched? It wasn't like Onya had been penetrated, of course. Gree had helped Onya understand what all the parts between her thighs were for; and had even shown how they could be used during a wild night of sex with Yol for her Mistress's viewing. And Onya herself had learned the joy of self pleasuring, spending probably far to much time fondling that sensitive little nub of flesh hidden in her curly red mound of hair. But except to wet her fingers for such incredible experiences, Onya hadn't touched her hole much, and she certainly hadn't intruded upon it either.

Onya had another fear as well. Well, fear might be too strong a word. Worrying disappointment, maybe. She had begun her Moon Bleeding years earlier, which had been a source of panic as no one had ever told her it would happen to her. Loro had had to take Onya down to the creek, calm her, wash her, and then explain about how the bleeding would return to her every moon. During her education, Gree explained that there would be yet another bleeding, this time when the Chieftain put his sword inside Onya's scabbard, a description that had led the pair of teens to laugh and joke for days to come every time Baldr walked by with his sword on his hip.

"And this is what I want?" Onya had inquired, confused. "In my wedding bed? With my lord?"

Onya hadn't understood it at first, but Gree had so well explained the importance of it that Onya had found herself eager for it to happen. Eager for the bleeding...? Or for the erotic act that was going to cause it? Onya hadn't been sure.

Then, tragedy. The long, hard, fast rise had caused Onya's hymen to break one afternoon, flooding the cloth covering her horse's saddle with deep red. Onya had wheeled off, signaling Gree to follow her away from the others, down hill until they found privacy in a wood and a slow moving stream at which Onya could clean up ... and cry. What would Baldr think when he finally took her for his wife and she didn't soil his bed? She was devastated, which was quite ironic since just half a moon before Onya hadn't even known she would bleed her wedding night at all.



An hour later, after the Company had slowly descended the road toward Virta and arrived at the outskirts, a quartet of Outriders arrived at high speed to give their report. One wheeled his horse to a stop near Baldr while two others escorted the fourth -- with an arrow in his shoulder -- past the others and back toward the Healer in a wagon near the end.

"A wall, m'lord!" the Outrider reported. "Hidden in the rubble ... past the early ruins. Archers. Spearmen. It is damaged ... years ago, and didn't appear manned until we took missile fire."

"Rider!" a voice from a hundred yards ahead called.

"My lady," Yol said to Onya, having ridden up to her without notice. When Onya looked to him, her Protector said, "We must get you to the rear, to safety."

"No!" Onya said quickly without hesitation. She felt safest here, near Baldr, and she wasn't going to retreat to the rear unless he ordered it. She looked to her betrothed and said proudly, "I stay with my King."

A moment later, a banner appeared, rising slowly into view from beyond the crest of the rolling hill before them as if being raised directly from within a hole in the ground by a gopher. It shook slightly back and forth in the hands of its bearer, a rider dressed all in black who rose into view as he neared at a slow canter. Soon, other riders -- there would be four escorts in all -- would appear with him, with all five slowing to a walk, then stopping just fifty yards away from the man they'd come to meet.

"The Order..." Onya murmured to herself, suddenly recognizing the banner. A chill ran over her skin, and catching Baldr glancing her way, she smiled broadly to him. She tapped her heels to her ride and led the horse up to Baldr's side. "They are with the Order of Vint, m'lord." She was beaming by now as she said with delight, "The Priests of the Order of Vint ... they survive."

As if on cue, the rider with the banner announced in a firm tone, "You are arrived upon the sovereign Territory of the Order of Vint ... Holy Lands of the Priestess of the Fire ... Blessed Soil of the Goddess Un. Announce and be welcomed."

Onya was becoming absolutely giddy! She hadn't heard such talk for three, no closer to four years now, and all she wanted to do was drop from her horse, rush forth, and kiss the Herald on his hand.

"You must tell him who you are to pass, m'lord," Onya said as she leaned in close to the Chieftain. She spoke to him in a soft voice, not wanting to either sound as if she was giving Baldr direction nor give the indication that maybe he was ignorant to the workings of Southern ways. She continued, "And tell him why you-- we are here."

As she sat back up tall in her saddle she wondered what Baldr would say. Would he tell the Herald he was here for a priest so that he could marry his slave? Or marry his future Queen? Or every one's future Queen? Or would he tell him he was here to conquer the Known World, and this seemed as good a place to start as any? Would he tell him he was hungry and simply wanted to taste the Orange Fish Onya had been telling him about for weeks? Okay, so, Onya's mind was running playfully wild by this point, but she was as excited as she'd ever been in her life. Well, except for maybe that night she'd fondled herself to her very first orgasm. That had been kind of exciting, too!