"The Heir Presumptive" (closed)

Baran's room was bathed in the light of the new day by the time Caitrin's eyes opened. She smiled, recalling the night before. Her husband's friend had caused her so much incredible pleasure and ecstasy.

My husband, Caitrin thought as she felt Baran's front side against her back side. Rollen was certainly awake by now and finding himself alone. Would he assume that his wife was downstairs, speaking to the Innkeeper about breakfast or retrieving the horses with their tack and bags already returned to their bodies? Or would he fear that slipped away from his bed during the night to further fulfill her womanly needs ... maybe with his good friend and former Army superior?

Caitrin was contemplating slipping out of yet a second bed when she felt Baran waking. She rolled to face him, smiling as his eyes found focus on her own. She started to speak, then giggled and blushed a deep red that was surely noticeable even in the low light of the morning glow.

"I've never done anything like that, Baran," she said softly. She giggled again, clarifying, "I mean ... Rollen was my first ... the first man to ever ... well ... I think you know what I mean. I ... I thought he would be the only man I would ever lay with. I was..."

She smiled, kissed Baran, then blushed yet again as she giggled. "I was so ... overjoyed ... when he offered me to you. Brother's Prerogative. I ... I wanted ... more. Needed more ... more than Rollen could give me ... in bed. I needed you!"

Caitrin kissed Baran again, then reached down between them to grasp his cock, immediately kneading it with the intent of making it stiff again. She was about to roll atop the man again, desperate to find ecstasy atop him regardless of whether or not Rollen might find them.

But she heard a familiar female voice in the hall and rolled quickly to face the door. She hadn't heard what Freeda had first said, but she heard her the second time as she called out, "I'm sure she's outside somewhere, Rollen. I'll wake Baran, and we'll get some breakfast."

Caitrin leapt from the bed just as the other woman knocked. She ran to the door and held it closed as she looked back to Baran with concern. Freeda called through the wood barrier with a humorous tone, "Baran, are you still in bed you lazy ass? We have work to do."

Caitrin looked to Baran and held a finger up to her mouth. Beyond the door, Freeda again called for Baran's response. Caitrin shook her head frantically. Freeda knocked again, and a moment later here boot steps were moving away and down the stairs as she called to Rollen that his war mate wasn't upstairs.

Moving back to the bed, Caitrin found and began donning her clothes. She moved closer to the bed, a nervous, guilty look on her face as she continued dressing. Her expression changed, though, as she was tying her bodice.

"Forgetting what I said about ... about needing you to fuck me," she said with a tentative voice, "I need to tell you something, Baran."

She neared closer and lowered her voice, as if afraid someone would overhear. "I have concerns about Rollen. I fear--"

Caitrin drew a quick, deep breath, as if barely able to continue. She looked him directly in the eyes and said, "I fear he will betray you, Baran."

She explained some of the conversations and interactions she'd had with Rollen over the last couple of days. There was nothing firm about her suspicions; it was all very circumstantial and vague. But she'd been married to the man for many months now, and she knew him as well as she did anyone.

"Rollen is my husband, and I love him very much," Caitrin said with a genuine tone. "I would never wish him harm. But..."

She dropped her gaze and drew, then released another deep breath before she added, "Lady Freeda ... she saved my life when I was a little girl. She saved my family. I owe her everything. If I had to choose between ... between Freeda and my husband..."

Caitrin didn't actually speak the choice. But it was fairly obvious.

A tiny, nameless inn about a day's journey from Riverbrook Castle:


Trett wrinkled his nose at what passed for his room at the inn. Yes, it had a bed and a wash basin and a tiny dresser. It might have had just enough room for two people to stand in it as well if they didn't mind getting cozy. He was tired of the road, tired of being away from proper hospitality, and tired of his traveling companion.

He had a proper disdain for those of Hashian heritage. Purebloods, with their dark skin and shifty eyes, had purportedly been wiped out generations ago, but evidence of their legacy remained in the grand and great-grandchildren of those raped by their pillagers. Olean bothered him more than most, because he knew of her background as a slave and whore. Her invitation to become a handmaiden to Victoria still chapped him.

Six days alone with her, barely speaking, hadn't improved things. Worse, he started finding her attractive, fantasizing about her skills in the erotic arts that she was imparting upon Victoria. He hated that juxtaposition, yet couldn't deny the results. Victoria was inventive and insatiable in bed and she wasn't coming up with it out of thin air.

"Fetch me a bath," Trett told Olean after she'd helped the carriage driver bring up his bag. "I won't face the princess in this state. And I'll want my clothes cleaned."

"I'll see to it," Olean said, bowing briefly and heading back downstairs.

Trett peered out the warped window and watched as a puppy chased chickens around the back yard while a teenaged boy chopped wood. The inn was scarcely more than a large farmhouse with spare rooms rented out. Commoners.

Olean soon returned. "They'll heat a bath for you, but the tub is down on the main floor in a small room off the kitchen."

"Of course it is." Trett grumbled.

#

By the time enough water had been warmed, Trett had eaten dinner. At least the fare was adequate. Tomorrow, at the castle, it would be better. Would Ranna remember him fondly from their youth? Invite him to a private dinner? He still didn't know how she would react to his visit or whether his pretense for arriving would hold up to her scrutiny. Problems for tomorrow.

Olean fetched him when the water was ready and Trett passed through a recently vacated kitchen and entered the small room which doubled for a larder. The tub was wood, an oversized barrel, but sufficiently large to sit in. It was half filled with steaming water and soap, brush, and towels were stacked on a table beside it.

Trett began stripping, handing his clothes to Olean as he did so for their cleaning. He caught her looking longingly at the bath and belatedly realized she was just as road weary and grungy as he. Granted, he was less concerned about her presentation before the princess tomorrow, but it would reflect poorly upon him if she looked anything less than worthy of serving a highborn noble.

"Stay," he said as he dropped the last of his clothes. "You can bathe me. When you're done, you can clean up as well."

He noted the mixed reaction from her and almost chuckled to himself. It was an uncommon request for a man to have a female staffer bathe him, yet she wouldn't deny the request for fear of the consequences.

"Thank you, my lord."

Trett stepped into the tub and savored the heat. He sat and let as much soak over him as possible. Without further bidding, Olean was beside the tub, dunking a small pitcher and pouring it over him. She proceeded to scrub him with the brush and generally clean him up in an efficient manner.

"Would m'lord like to stand or finish scrubbing on your own?" The disdain in her voice was hidden...just.

Trett ignored the insolent tone and stood, facing the servant. She resumed scrubbing from his feet up to his crotch and hesitated.

"Well, finish up then," he quipped.

As the brush was too large to do the job, she lathered her hands and scrubbed his scrotum and cock manually. Trett hadn't demeaned himself to seek sexual release between the legs of some filthy tavern wench, so he was quick to respond to her touch. She might be Hoshian, but the girl did have a history with pleasing men.

"The night before we left, My Grace used her mouth on me," he said, looking down at Olean as she finished rinsing his now erect cock. "You taught her that, did you not?"

Olean blushed and looked away. "My Grace inquired about the subject, yes. So I told her what I knew."

"I thought she'd bite me, for all that her teeth got in the way." Trett had never experienced anything like it and had found it quite pleasurable, despite the teeth. He'd heard other men rave about the skill of some women with their mouths and had wondered if it was always this way.

"I will speak with her later," Olean said. "It can be done a little differently."

Trett smiled. Good to know. Maybe Victoria's insistence on taking on the Hoshian was worth the trouble.

"Show me."

Olean failed to hide her distaste, but said nothing. She showed him how it was done properly and, yes, she was quite skilled.

#

Riverbrook Castle:

The awkwardness in the carriage hadn't improved the following day. Trett was even more enamored with Olean, felt even dirtier for having those feelings, all while she kept her attention riveted out the window and said not a word.

They arrived in Riverbrook not a minute too soon. Before they were even out of the carriage, William, Trett's counterpart head of guard to Ranna, greeted him. The two had a long history in their teens, training together, but had never particularly gotten along. William was formal and professional, welcoming them and explaining he would take Trett to his room while the servants could find quarters with the staff.

"When can I see Princess Ranna?" Trett asked as he followed William into the castle. "It's been a long trip and I am eager to see my duty discharged."

"My Grace will see you tomorrow," William said. "In the meantime, you may clean up and get refreshed."

"Tomorrow? But it's not even dinner time." Trett tried to stifle his indignation lest he come across as childish.

"My Grace has many things requiring her attention. But she will make time for you tomorrow."

Trett gritted his teeth. "Of course."

Olean had hoped to retreat from the makeshift bathing room before Trett began stripping down. It wasn't because she was too shy or modest to see a naked man, of course; she'd seen hundreds, possibly thousands of them during her brothel enslavement. And it wasn't because Trett was her Lady's lover either; hell, the pair of them had never shown a lick of modesty around Olean, even outright fucking before her as she delivered food and drink and stoked the fire in Victoria's bed chamber.

No, Olean's reason for wanting to get away early was that if she didn't, she'd end up bathing Trett. And if she ended up bathing him, she'd end up servicing him. And she managed to make it almost a week without having to do so.

"Show me," Trett ordered after their short discussion concerning the fellatio lessons Olean had given Victoria.

Olean tried to hide her distaste for what was being asked of her. This wasn't her first tournament joust, after all. But after being plucked out of the brothel, Olean had hoped never to have to service men in this way again.

"Of course, My Lord ... it would be my pleasure," she said softly with a well feigned tone of willingness. She rose from her kneeling position and moved a three legged stool near the tub. Gesturing Trett to step out and sit, she told him, "You will enjoy the act better here, My Lord."

As Trett took his place, Olean knelt upon some bedding she placed between the man's parted feet. She took hold of his erection, stroking it once again to full rigidity. He was average sized, perhaps a bit more so, so Olean knew that she'd be able to perform her work without a great deal of difficulty.

The question running through her mind, of course, was How good am I supposed to be with him? Olean knew she had to fully please Trett, for to do so would be too obviously false. After all, she'd been a brothel whore for years! But to perform too well, to the full extent of her abilities, might result in the man coming back to Olean time and time again for something that would take Victoria years to master, if ever she did at all.

Olean decided to find a middle ground. She spent a couple of minutes slowly licking Trett's shaft from base to head to base again, taking the bulbous end of it between her lips occasionally while all the time gently toying with his tight ball sack. Before she ever really got serious, the man was already moaning deeply with the pleasure and -- as typically happened -- grasping her head with one or both hands in an effort to direct her to do even more.

Finally, when she knew that he was so very close already, Olean spit into her hand, grasped the lower half of his cock in tightly grasping fingers, and took the top half of his inches into her mouth. She swam her tongue all about his flesh for a moment, then began bobbing her head up and down with increasing speed and depth.

It didn't take long to finish the man. She was good; and he hadn't cum in almost a week. She listened to the moans and knew exactly when the first shot was coming. She pulled her mouth back until only the bulb of his twitching cock was still within her lips, then rapidly stroked his length with a fast moving hand. His penis leaped, then again, then again and again and again ... and ... well, it just didn't seem as if it was ever going to go still again.

Trett's discharge flooded Olean's mouth, and after the ejaculations had become just continuing twitches, she pulled away from him and swallowed. He actually tasted fairly good, relative to some other men whose diet sometimes affected their flavor. Olean's hand continued to pump his length until she could tell that the last of his twitches had arrived. She licked the leakage from her finger and thumb, then stood, telling Trett to return to the tub once more. She used the towel to clean his cock of his semen and her saliva, then asked to be excused to deal with his laundry.

Once outside with the door closed, Olean grimaced. There was just something so ... demeaning about having to service that wanna-be. She hadn't had a choice, of course. If they'd gotten back to Weston and Victoria found out Trett had found pleasure in another woman's bed after Olean had turned him down, she would have found herself sold right back into sexual servitude once more.

She set about laundering Trett's clothes and shining his boots and belts. A lot of the work she did this night didn't actually need to be done. Olean just wanted to look busy making Trett look good tomorrow, otherwise he might want her to come to his bed and offer another one of her holes for his pleasure.

City of Pratt


I fear he will betray you, Baran.

The words echoed through Baran's mind. It jeopardized the mission, but Baran held no animosity toward his Brother. Baran, afterthought all, was the one doing the betraying - to his country by conspiring against it with her enemies and again last night by fucking Rollen's young wife every conceivable way. When he'd found Rollen near the stables not long after nearly being caught in bed with Caitrin, he considered telling his friend the truth and offering to let him defend his honor in a duel to the death. But that would hardly be fair - Rollen, a skilled warrior, was still no match for Baran in single combat - and might only draw unnecessary attention to them.

Baran suggested they bring only Rollen's horse. He set Rollen and Caitrin by the end of Jardin's street with a description of the man and instructions to follow discreetly if he left that way. Baran and Freeda waited half a block further away with just the slightest of angles on the house from which Freeda had spied the stake out.

It wasn't long before Jardin appeared. Baran breathed a sigh of relief that the man had both come this direction and they'd been early enough to catch him. Just as Jardin rounded the corner to head toward the artisan district, another man slipped out of the house from across the street. He was young and dressed as if an aspiring merchant - all but invisible. Baran and Freeda followed that man, who followed the others.

"That man's gonna make Caitrin and Rollen as tails," Baran said.

Freeda nodded but remained tight lipped.

Their quarry stopped after a few blocks, as had the other two ahead of him. Baran couldn't see Jardin directly, but was almost certain he'd gone into his favorite eatery for breakfast. The street was just busking enough for them to remain unobtrusive...but barely. Rollen and Caitrin, however, stuck out painfully.

"This might be our best chance to discretely corner Jardin," Baran said, briefly explaining the eatery and his ability to get inside from the back. "I know you want to be there, but I more worried about our tail's tail. Think you can deal with him and maybe find out why he's so interested in Jardin?"

(OOC: I just created an "Encyclopedia" post, in which you will find an explanation for "City Girl". It's about all that's there so far, but it will expand.)


City of Pratt

"That man's gonna make Caitrin and Rollen as tails," Baran said.

Freeda nodded but remained tight lipped. She had been using Baran's taller form as cover to occasionally peek off toward the married couple, and as with him, she'd taken note of their less than skilled approach to stalking the quarry.

"This might be our best chance to discretely corner Jardin," Baran said.

As he finished his inquiry into whether or not she could deal with the second man of interest, Freeda noted that Jardin's tail had taken a keen interest in them now, as opposed to Caitrin and Rollen. Or, was she simply imagining things? Paranoia was, of course, how a Master Spy remained alive in the business as long as Freeda had. Paranoia and a lack of hesitation in putting a knife in the throat of anyone who seemed a danger to her, too.

While she had suggested Merchant wear for her partner in crime, Freeda herself had donned the cape and head dressing of a City Girl to give others the impression that she and Baran had only just met. After he suggested that she deal with Jardin's tale, she turned such that the unknown man could see her well, then stuck out her hand.

"Give me a coin," she told Baran. She saw the expression on his face; Freeda had more money on her, so why was she asking for coin from him? She waggled her hand and stressed with a soft volume, "Give me a coin!"

After he did, Freeda stood on her toes and kissed him on the cheek, telling him, "I will deal with our new friend while you deal with your old one."

And with that, she bounded off on a path perpendicular to the tail. She stopped after just a short bit, buying a sweetened Burnt Roll, then meandered through the market stalls that offered lesser expensive items that a City Girl might be able to afford. Then, when she was sure that the tail had no interest in her, Freeda simply disappeared from his range of view.

She watched the young man for several minutes as each of them moved through the marketplace. He was much younger than either of them had imagined, barely into his mid-teens, a fact initially hidden by his hooded cloak and height of nearly six feet.

At one point, Freeda was able to catch Caitrin's eye, giving her a familiar gesture that simply meant back off. The younger woman took her husband's arm and lured him off into an Apothecary where she feigned an interest in an herbal remedy intended to end an unfortunate pregnancy.

When the moment and setting were right, Freeda was on the tail. Just before a dark, narrow alley between two buildings, she grasped and spun him while lifting the sharp point of her dagger to the underside of his chin. She growled, "Back into the alley and be quiet, and you may very well to see the sundown with your heart still in your chest."

The man's eyes widened in great fear, and he did exactly as Freeda demanded. Very quickly, they were deep into the alley and out of sight of the rest of the world. She stripped him of his only weapon, a dagger of considerable length that even a cursory examination left Freeda embarrassed about his sharpening skills.

"Take my purse!" the man begged, "It's not deep in value, but it's yours! Please, just don't kill me!"

"Why were you following that man?" Freeda questioned. "Who are you? What is your name? Talk! Or I'll cut you from ear to ear and leave you here for the dogs to feast upon."

As she'd been threatening, the man had cautiously reached to his belt and retrieved his purse. He jangled it before Freeda's eyes, begging again, "Please! Please don't kill me! If this is not enough, I can get you more."

Freeda's gaze has shifted from the man's face to his hand. But it wasn't the purse in which her interest lay. It was his fingers; he totally lacked his pinky finger, and the tip of his ring finger was offset at an angle that spoke of a long ago injury ... or defect of birth.

"What is your name?" she asked again, her widening eyes looking into his still large ones. When he babbled on again about coin and not wanting to die, Freeda growled at him, "Tell me your name ... now!"

"I am Leonin ... Leonin of Hollard," he answered, shaking the purse again and begging, "Please ... please don't--"

"Hollard!" Freeda cut him off. She studied him for a moment, then -- having to repeat herself when the young man simply stared -- asked him with an anxious tone rising in her voice, "Who is your father...? What is your father's name?"

"Fred!" the boy said. "Lord Frederican!"

"The Count of Hollard...?" Freeda asked, her tone now filling with emotion. Her eyes glazed over as she continued, "Your father is Lord Frederican ... of Hollard County?"

"Yes," the man said softly, now beginning to understand that there was something far more than a simple robbery taking place here. As he watched the first tears begin running down his assailant's cheek he asked, "Do you know my father, Miss?"

By now, Freeda was sobbing as she studied the young man before her through wet eyes. The man asked tentatively, "Forgive me, Miss, but ... if you know who my father is ... should I know who you are?"

Freeda's blade, which had already lowered, clattered to the old, worn cobblestone as she moved forward and threw her arms around the younger but taller man's torso. She said through her sobs, "I am Freeda. I am your sister!"

Riverbrook Castle
Midday yesterday:

Olean followed her Lady's lover into Riverbrook House at the respectable distance appropriate for a servant. Between her and Trett were a pair of his Guard. The men had been allowed to keep their daggers, but they'd been relieved of the rest of their weapons. Leading them were a pair of armed men and following them were two pair more; Olean recognized their uniforms as being that of Princess Ranna's personal Bodyguard. As they continued down one hall to another and passed through a trio of open doors, Olean took note of six more pair of Bodyguard, all of them well armed, in and attentive to their guests.

The level of security surprised -- even concerned -- Olean. Such displays of force were only taken when there was a danger or were dangers, plural, at play.

Olean hadn't been sure whether or not Trett would be greeted in the Great Hall or in some lesser location. From one viewpoint, he was the representative of a Princess who was in the line of succession for one of Medianna's most significant Kingdoms. From the another viewpoint, though, he was just the man fucking the second daughter and younger sister of the woman for whom he was here to meet.

The Hoshian servant had little doubt whatsoever that Princess Ranna was fully aware of the coupling taking place between Victoria and the man now entering Riverbrook House. Even the King had heard the rumors, though, he preferred to think it just gossip and his daughter still the pure and innocent little girl who had only recently been running around his castle chasing after puppies.

So when Ranna's Bodyguard turned the procession away from the Great Hall's entrance and into a smaller office, she wasn't surprised in the least. In truth, she had to contain the smirk that threatened to spread her lips as she wondered what Trett thought about the slight.

"Greetings, Lord Trett, and welcome to Riverbrook," a tall, muscular, and well dressed man said once the procession had entered and the armed men had spread to give the Nobles more room. "I am Lord William, Military Counselor to Princess Ranna of Weston and Captain of her Grace's Bodyguard."

Again, Olean had to suppress the urge to smirk. She knew very well that Trett and William had known one another for a brief time during their earlier years. And yet, William greeted her Mistress's lover as though he had never met the man in his life. William droned on for a moment about Trett's long trip across the majority of two Baronies, then about quarters in which he could clean up and get some rest.

"When can I see Princess Ranna?" Trett asked... "It's been a long trip and I am eager to see my duty discharged."

"My Grace will see you tomorrow," William said. "In the meantime, you may clean up and get refreshed."

By now, Olean was so very happy that she was standing at Trett's back. She wasn't able to suppress her smile this time, and when she glanced up, she caught William's gaze upon her. She wiped the smirk away and lowered her eyes to the floor. If she hadn't diverted her eyes, though, she would have noticed Princess Ranna's Captain straining to contain his own pleased smirk as Trett ranted on about wishing an immediate audience.

Once the exchange between the men was over and the parting pleasantries exchanged, a House Orderly wearing the clothes and seal of the County of Riverbrook -- as opposed to that of Princess Ranna's personal staff -- asked Trett to follow him to the Guest Quarters. Olean fell in behind Trett, expecting to have to service him -- in intimate way, too -- but before she'd even fully cleared the room a female Orderly said in a stern voice, "Servants of visiting dignitaries are not ... permitted in the Guest Quarters. Lord Trett will be provided with the appropriate servants from the Countess's Household. Follow me."

Olean looked to Trett for some sort of direction, but the Orderly stressed her demand again. Olean turned and followed. She was expecting to be led to a tiny, windowless room in the dark innards of the castle, possibly deeper in the earth than the fields of the surrounding countryside; or possibly to a cot in the corner of the scullery where she bathe all she wanted yet never be free of the stench of onions and turnips.

Instead, Olean found herself being led up a stair case, then another, and into a lovely little room that was more spacious and better appointed than her own room in King Elrod's castle back in the City of Weston. The Orderly showed her an already steaming bath, as well as an assortment of soaps, moisturizers, oils, and scents she hadn't seen since her days in the brothel. (No man spend money on a smelly, dry-skinned whore, after all.)

"You will bathe immediately, and a girl will come shortly to help you dress for an audience with the My Lady," the Orderly said.

"Me?" Olean said sharply without really thinking. When the Orderly gave her a surprised look, the servant from Weston asked, "Am I to see Princess Ranna?"

"My Lady ... is the Countess Pollania," the Orderly explained. "You will hear her called Polla at times. But you will call her Countess ... or My Lady."

"Of course, Mistress," Olean responded with a polite head nod.

After the Orderly departed without a word, Olean surveyed the room a short while. She unpacked some of her things, stripped, and stepped over to the bath ... and just stared in awe. She hadn't seen such a tub since the brothel. It wasn't large; just enough for two people. But it was a combination of polished wood and hand painted tile with seating in the tub and on its edge for scrubbing ... or sex.

The hot water was incredible, heaven after a week of infrequent sponge baths. Olean was so quickly overwhelmed by the comfort that she just closed her eyes ... slid down into the depth up to her face ... and drifted off...



Olean didn't know she had company until she felt, then heard the flow of hot water being added to the now-cooler bath. She'd fallen asleep , and now -- surprised by the company -- Olean sat up quickly, exposing herself to low on her waist as tried to depart the tub.

"Sit!" demanded a young woman standing next to the tub. As Olean paused, the woman in simple but new servant clothing urged her back down into the water with her free hand. "There is no hurry, Miss. Finish your bath. Or your nap. Or both."

The servant chuckled lightly at her own humor while her gaze was lowering to take in Olean's body. The Hoshian was exposed low enough to reveal that -- even long after the Brothel -- she had continued the custom of shaving herself smooth down yonder. Her skin glistened in a sheen caused by the lightly oiled water of the bath. As the cooler air of the room flooded over her, Olean's flesh exploded in goose pimples and her nipples doubled in size, the feel of the swelling obvious without even glancing down.

The servant giggled, again urging Olean back into the water, onto the seat that left her bosom still exposed. The woman who was of a similar "I am Taylin, Miss. You are Olean, yes?"

"Yes," the woman from Weston answered, unsure of whether to also call Taylin Miss. Never in her years had Olean been in a situation where she was the one being served. She held her hands up before her, looking at her fingers to find them all pruny. She asked, "How long have I been in here?"

"Not long," the servant answered, obviously lying. "Let me help you finish."

Taylin pulled a plug from the outside of the tub's base, allowing the dirty water to flow down a hardened clay half-pipe to and through a hole in the wall. It gurgled away to the castle's waste water piping system that would take it away to a slough and, eventually, the North Branch River. Olean was pleasantly surprised to see the plumbing. She'd heard of such utilities before but had never actually seen them.

Taylin helped Olean finish, washing her hair and rinsing her body free of the oily wash water. The latter was a bit uncomfortable yet again; except for a regular of hers at the Brothel whose fantasies had included being a lowly servant, Olean had always been the one doing the washing.

They chatted about a variety of things as the bath concluded and Taylin dried Olean off. The Riverbrook servant's eyes spent a significant amount of time ogling the Weston servant's womanly curves. When she'd finished with the towel and backed away a couple of steps, Taylin observed, "You are a very beautiful woman, Olean. Perfect."

Yet again, Victoria's servant blushed. She giggled short and soft, responding only with, "Thank you, Taylin."

"May I ask about those?" Taylin inquired. She pointed to the black circles -- simple tattoos -- on the soft fleshy webbing between Olean's big and second toes. "Do they have a meaning?"

Olean diverted her eyes, hesitating before lying, "I don't know their meaning. They were given to me as a child."

Taylin studied the other woman following her answer, looking at though she didn't believe the answer. But she let it go, instead asking pointedly, "Lord Trett ... do you serve him? In bed?"

Yet again, Olean diverted her eyes and blushed. She lowered her gaze, contemplated her response, then answered, "I do not think that is something--"

Taylin laughed as she neared Olean with an undergarment. As she helped the naked woman dress, Taylin continued to urge Olean to tell all. "You can tell me, I won't say anything to your Master. It's just us girls."

Olean was uncomfortable with the conversation. She couldn't know to whom the other servant might take any information spoken here. She did her best to divert the conversation, finally saying, "I was told the Countess wished to see me. Maybe we should..."

"Yes, of course, Miss," Taylin responded, obviously disappointed. She helped Olean dress and put up her hair. When they were done, Taylin said, "I will go let the Countess know you are ready. Someone will come for you."

"Thank you," Olean said with a friendly smile.

After the other servant was gone, Olean donned some ribbons, belts, and jewelry, just in time for a pair of Castle Guards to retrieve her. They made their way through the passageways to what Olean would learn was the antechamber of the Countess's bed chamber, not one of the offices or Great Hall.

"Come in, dear, come in," an older woman said with a joyous tone. From a tall backed chair near a fireplace in which a small fire burned, the Countess waved Olean forward to another similar chair. After the servant from Weston came forth and gave a formal curtsy, the Lady of the house gestured to the chair again, telling Olean, "Sit, dear. Sit with me."

She called for tea and cakes, and the pair chatted about ... well, about everything, Olean would think later. An hour or more passed without a hesitation in the conversation. Olean was delightfully surprised at the Countess's approach to her; Pollania never once treated her as though she were a servant, except when she was asking questions that only a servant could answer, of course.

The sound of boot falls neared the open doors of the room. There was confidence in the steps, which Olean knew were those of a woman. But seated as she was, Olean couldn't see the approaching female. She contemplated turning to look toward the door, but feared it would seem disrespectful to the Countess. The Countess, however, could see the door, and as the woman entered the room the Countess's face lit up with delight.

"Ranna, my dearest granddaughter, come, come! Meet our guest," Pollania called toward the doors.

Olean popped up out of the chair as was appropriate for greeting a Royal. She turned to get her first look at her own Lady's sister ... only to realize with widening eyes that she'd already met Princess Ranna, who -- as Taylin -- had earlier helped her with her bath.

City of Pratt

The establishment into which Jardin entered was mostly a bakery of sweet rolls and pastries that sold from the street out front and probably through a few handcarts elsewhere. Baran knew they had a couple tables inside, however, and that's where he found the rotund man, face buried in sweet rolls and tea. It had taken but a single copper to get the lady working in the kitchen to let him cut through the back and approach Jardin unseen.

"Your information was shit," Baran said in a hushed tone as he sat in the seat beside Jardin, getting the desired effect of startling the hell out of his contact.

Jardin choked on his roll and had to swallow some tea before he could speak. "You're alive! Rumor was you'd failed."

Baran could see the beads of sweat forming on the man's brow, but couldn't tell exactly what triggered them.

Baran gave him a disappointed look. "I didn't fail, yet. But I was able to assess her security. Killing her will be nigh impossible without an army or at least considerably more resources than I had last time. Fortunately, I know what's needed now."

Jardin looked uncertain. Leaning forward, he whispered, "You're asking for more money after showing no results?"

Baran lowered his voice. "I have results and a plan. And I'm sure whoever put this plot in motion is good for the money. Cordan? Some of his allies, perhaps?"

Jardin, to his credit, didn't acknowledge either. Not that there was any doubt.

"It's more than just the money," Jardin said, sweating profusely enough to need to wipe his brow with his sleeve. "I don't think they'll trust you. Word is you released after being captured. Bought off? Double crossing?"

So much for the "you're alive" nonsense. Unless the dolt thought Baran had been "released" and then killed to confuse intelligence gathering. Or had he expected Baran dead by Cordan's men by now? That would explain the check points.

Jardin's eyes flicked to the sword Baran had tucked discretely beneath his light cloak. Baran was surprised the man had the courage to suggest treason. He'd clearly been nervous bringing it up. Maybe their personal relationship led him to doubt whatever intelligence that had come out of Riverbrook. Baran could use that.

"Like I said, whoever's feeding you or your contact information is dangerously incomplete," Baran hissed. "Yes, I was caught. But, seriously, you hired me not just because I'm skilled but because I can sell sea water to a fisherman. Or, in this case, dried cava fruits to a princess."

Jardin looked baffled.

Baran rolled his eyes and smiled. "Try to keep up, old friend. Ranna likes cava fruit. I packed a supply of a hard to find variety and convinced her that I was really there trying to sell them to her...as a supplier. Naive and blundering farm boy around about how to approach a surprisingly well guarded noble. And, like I said, I can sell anything.

"Now I have my in, but I need additional resources to make the necessary bribes to pull it off. So you better get in touch with the person or people necessary and quick. I want my title and I don't want to miss my window of opportunity. Got it?"

Jardin nodded, though it was clear he was still processing everything.

Baran said, "Tomorrow morning. Six bells at the Founder's Fountain. Come alone or with someone who can cover my expenses."

City of Pratt
Merchant Plaza Marketplace:

Freeda pulled back from the young man about whose torso she was clutching. She looked beyond the alley's entrance for prying eyes, saw none, and practically dragged him deeper into the dark.

"Why are you following Jardin?" she growled, even as she was wiping tears from her eyes and cheeks.

"Who ... who are you?" Leo asked, still confused about what the hell was happening here. "I have no sister. Who are you?"

Freeda slammed the young man against the stone wall, growling, "Why are you following Jardin Lopes? Tell me!"

"He killed my father!" Leo said with anger. When the woman assaulting him didn't respond, he continued, "He didn't do it himself. But he had it done."

The two of them discussed the man's claim for a moment, with Freeda learning that while traveling the countryside to a meeting with Baron Cordan, the coach of Leo's father -- the Count Frederican of Hollard, Freeda's own father and namesake! -- had been attacked and the Nobleman assassinated, his throat cut before his current wife's eyes. The Countess herself was raped by an unknown number of men, disemboweled by a sword, and left to bleed out on the forest floor.

"Who are you?" Leo once again asked, attempting to bring the conversation back to the woman holding him forcefully against the wall. "I don't have a sister."

Freeda wanted to explain, but this wasn't the time. She grasped Leo's collar and dragged him back to the alley entrance. She asked about the house from which he'd been spying, learning that it was just a room he'd let to watch Jardin's home.

"Return there," Freeda told him. "Stay there, do not leave. I will come to you tonight. Do not leave! Do you understand? You are involved in things you can't possibly fathom!"

Leo tried to argue Freeda's commands, as well as get more answers. But the Master Spy was in a hurry, with people depending on her. She demanded that her brother do as she say, promised him answers, and then pushed him down the street away from where he'd been heading earlier.

Freeda watched him disappear into the crowd, then went searching for the others. She found Rollen and Caitrin on the steps of the Apothecary, pretending to be studying their purchase. They headed for the bakery, finding their fourth before they reached it. When Baran asked about the tail, Freeda lied without hesitation, "He got away. But ... I'll go to the house tonight and find out who he is."

After some discussion, it was decided to put the married couple on Jardin watch. Freeda stressed some guidelines for watching without looking like they were watching and on how to get word back to Baran and herself without losing sight of the man.

After the couple departed, Freeda told Baran with a firm tone, "I have contacts with whom I need to speak. We'll meet up before sundown."

Without any more explanation of what she was doing or what was really on her mind, Freeda simply turned and disappeared into the crowded marketplace.

Riverbrook Castle -- Today:

With very much the same arrangement of herself, Lord Trett, and the Castle Guard, Olean followed the Noble down the Riverbrook House passageways to the Great Hall. At the far end, sitting in a tall chair atop a three step dais, was the Countess Pollania. Olean wished she could see Trett's face, to know what his reaction was at realizing that he was meeting the Noblewoman and grandmother of Princess Ranna, as opposed to the Princess herself.

"Come, come forth, Lord Trett," the Countess called with a polite but less joyous tone as she'd used with Olean the day before. She rose from her seat and walked to the edge of the dais, offering out her hand and waiting for the young Lord to take and kiss its back as was customary for a non-Noble Lord to do with a true Noble. Once that was done, she returned to her chair, leaving her guest standing there as she asked, "And what is it that brings you to my humble home in Riverbrook, Lord Trett?"

Polla already knew full well why Trett had made the transit, of course: an audience with her granddaughter, Ranna. The two hours that she, Ranna, and Olean had spent talking near the fire in her quarter's antechamber had been very enlightening. Olean had been hesitant about speaking too much on the happenings back in the Weston Castle; speaking too much about her Lady Victoria, the Princess Ranna's sister.

Olean had also been very embarrassed that she'd been bathed by her Lady Victoria's sister, the Heir Apparent to the Kingdom of Weston. She'd barely been able to even look at Ranna for the first hour, until finally the Princess stressed to her that there was nothing of which to be ashamed or regretful. All the while, Pollania had shown no surprise in learning that her Royal granddaughter had run a soapy sponge over the body of a servant, then rinsed said body before commenting upon its beauty. Such strange people, Olean had thought numerous times.

Once Trett explained that he'd arranged for an audience with Ranna, the Countess lied convincingly, "Oh, I'm sorry, my dear Lord Trett. My granddaughter is not in the House to entertain such an audience. In fact, she's in neither the County nor the Barony. I sent her on a diplomatic mission to The Highlands two days ago. I sincerely apologize if I have caused you any inconvenience."

The Countess gestured closer to her a man standing off to one side, asking, "Lord Counselor Glennis, do you suppose we could entertain Lord Trett for a few days, while he awaits my granddaughter's return? Perhaps ... a hunt?"

The tall, elegantly dressed man nodded affirmation to his Lady, then looked to Trett. "Boar in the thickets, perhaps, Lord Trett. Or, we have falcons, if you prefer."

Olean caught Pollania looking her way and -- when the Countess winked at her knowingly -- she almost giggled out loud. She didn't know what the game was, but it was obvious that Pollania -- who had instructed Olean to call her Polla -- was very good at playing it.

City of Pratt:

Baran was grateful to have Rollen and Caitrin along to do the watching of Jardin as he was increasingly nervous that the increased guard presence on the street might involve him. He'd been away long enough that few in the guard would recognize him. His beard helped, but wouldn't go far enough for someone who knew him and was looking. Few had a physique like his and a light cloak could only hide just so much.

He purchased a few new (used) articles of clothing to better blend in with the working class, then changed back at his room and stashed his sword, leaving him armed only with a dagger. The sword attracted too much attention.

Amid concerns about all the moving pieces and unknowns of their investigation, Baran sought out one of the few contacts he had in town he felt he could still trust. A seedy-looking fishmonger's shop in the most downtrodden part of town greeted him with the familiar wall of stench. How anyone could eat anything that had come out of there was beyond him. Several children were filleting fish under the inattentive eye of an old lady. She peered up at Baran as he approached.

"What'cha want?"

"Three Redfin fillets," Baran said.

"Ain't got no Redfin around here, foolish boy," the old woman cackled. "That's only found in the Western Sea."

"Shame they don't have wings."

The woman pinned him with a steely gaze and then tilted her head ever so subtly toward a curtain in the back of the room. Baran nodded and weaved his way through the tight quarters, trying not to slip on guts and other fish bits littering the floor. Beyond the curtain was a small room lit only dimly by daylight struggling through gaps in the wallboards.

"Baran the Astute." The voice was weak and it took Baran a moment to identify the source as coming from the bed in the corner.

"Hard night drinking, Venn?" Baran tentatively stepped further into the room. The old man, wrapped in blankets, looked awful. Something had changed in the month since last he'd been here.

"I wish," the man croaked. He struggled to sit upright but only managed to prop his head up higher on the pillow. His cheeks, thin before, had positively sunk into his face. "Would be more fun. But you're not here to inquire as to my health or imminent demise. Did it work?"

Baran shook his head no, now feeling guilty for not having a good story to share with the man before his time was up. "I had the chance, but chose not to use it."

Venn laughed and coughed. "For a good reason, I trust?"

Baran smiled. "Well, I would have been killed, so yeah. That and...my goodness, you should have seen this woman. Killing someone like that would have been a crime against humanity."

Venn's laugh/cough continued for a bit. "You're soft. Weak. At least tell me you fucked her."

Baran laughed. "She handled my cock. Close enough?"

"Sometimes the best use of a weapon is to choose when not to use it. Now, what brings you here."

Baran told him. Venn listened intently, had a suggestion, and finished with a request. The men shook hands and said farewell for good.



Riverbrook Castle:


Trett was not pleased to be brought before the Countess rather than Ranna. Pollania had a way about here that made any man nervous. She had that "it" factor all nobles wished they possessed but few did. Worse, it felt like stepping into enemy territory, which only served to convince him that Victoria's instincts about her sister were correct.

He explained that he was here to deliver a message to princess Ranna, and then fought every instinct to maintain his composure when she returned a bald-faced lie to him about Ranna going off on some diplomatic mission to the Highlands. As if to salt the wound, she offered a tepid hospitality of a hunt to keep him occupied. Distracted, more likely.

"I'm disappointed to hear that, Countess," Trett said, fighting to keep his voice as polite as hers. "I'm sure the King is happy that his daughter is so eager to make all these diplomatic outreaches, the Highlands in particular, yet he yearns for her to visit him once in a while that they might align to his goals with our neighbors."

Ranna visiting the King was part of their cover goals for this visit, so that was easy enough to say. He considered asking exactly to where in the Highlands she'd gone, that he might follow and deliver the missive in a more timely fashion, but something came to him. Before he could judge the sense of bringing it up, he started speaking.

"Would it be rude of me to inquire as to why Lord William, Princess Ranna's own head of guard, was unaware of her departure? Or why he didn't accompany her? Just yesterday, on my arrival, he assured me Our Grace would meet me today. Surely a fellow servant to the Crown wouldn't have lied to me, especially when I'm discharging official duties?"

City of Pratt:

When she returned to their rented room, the remainder of Freeda's foursome was already there. She had a lot to reveal about what she'd learned this day. Unfortunately, most of what she had to say was for Baran's ears only.

"Caitrin, sweet," she said gesturing the woman to her. She pressed several coins into one of the girl's palms and gave her a list of things she needed from the marketplace. "Feel free to spend the change on yourselves."

Caitrin nodded hesitantly; she knew her friend was getting rid of her and her husband. She grabbed Rollen's hand and led him out. Freeda waited until the pair's footfalls were gone, then turned to Baran. "So, my contacts..."

She hesitated a moment, pacing the room a bit contemplating how much to tell her mission partner. Or was it mission leader? It had been made clear that once they got into the heart of Pratt, Baran was to be in charge. Freeda was here for two reasons: to offer her own intelligence services as he needed; and to ensure that the man didn't once again betray his employer, now the very Princess he'd initially been sent to assassinate.

"I am still seeking confirmation of this information, but, I regretfully admit, I may not be able to get it with the contacts available to me," she began, turning to face Baran, "I am told that yes, Baron Cordan would love to see My Grace dead. He fears the consolidation of Weston and The Highlands under one Crown. And Lord Cordan has been entertaining more than his share of visitors from the West in ... let's call it a shady fashion."

She began pacing the little room again as she continued. "However... my people tell me that it is not Cordan who initiated this plot. That someone else came to him ... that recently, a heavily guarded coach was recently driven without stop from deep inside Weston to Pratt ... right into the City ... and castle."

Freeda stopped to look into Baran's eyes again. "This coach ... it carried no passengers of note, my contact tells me. So ... it must be concluded that the coach carried instead a significant amount of coin. Coin with a purpose."

She stepped closer to Baran, finishing with an almost frightened look in her face. "Someone in the Kingdom of Weston is paying Lord Cordon vast sums of money ... for purposes my contacts can only imagine."

Freeda had known a great many conspiracies in her life; she'd been involved in many of those. But anything involving a wealthy patron in Weston paying vast sums to a recipient in Pratt concerned her greatly.

"I think this goes beyond your friend Jardin or even Lord Cordan," she said. Then, as if that weren't enough, Freeda moved onto an even more startling topic. "The man who was following Jardin this morning. I did find him. And ... Baran..."

Freeda drew a deep breath, still unable to believe this was true. "This man ... this young man. He was my brother. And ... he was tailing Jardin ... because Jardin killed his father."

She paused a moment, then added, "He killed my father."

Riverbrook Castle:

When Trett questioned the Countess's implausible story, Pollania responded by looking at his square in the eyes and telling him with a firm, "Some of the inner workings and diplomatic matters of the County of Riverbrook are not of your concern, Lord Trett. Such things are above your station."

From behind her, a firm male voice sounded, startling Olean into turning to face the man. William, who she'd met yesterday, added quickly with an almost threatening tone, "And ... if it weren't for that fact that you represent my Grace's sister, Lord Trett ... and, presumably, have some form of importance to her ... I would have you cut from navel to heart for suggesting that I might have--"

William went silent as the Countess begin rising from her seat, a sign that he'd already gone too far with his response or might very quickly. He drew a deep breath, which only swelled his already muscular chest within his dress armor to make him look rather ominous. He released the breath slowly but not without it including just a touch of a growling sound.

City of Pratt

Baran listened to Freeda's analysis and concerns. The money, if true, certainly did complicate matters greatly. Who in Weston would benefit from Ranna's assassination. Freeda certainly could better guess.

Before he could dig into that line of questioning, though, Freeda dropped the incredible bit about her brother and Jardin's hand in their father's death.

"Wait, what? Slow down. Just who is your father? Or was, sorry? And how was Jardin involved?"

Baran had trouble picturing Jardin killing anything besides half a chicken at the dinner table. But pay to have someone killed? Well, that was easy to imagine.

Riverbrook Castle:

Trett admired the Countess's unflappable response. He hadn't realized William was behind him in the chamber. Turning at his old acquaintance's indignant response, Trett couldn't refrain from grinning. His smile only widened when William snapped shut and puffed up in barely restrained anger.

"My apologies," Trett said, turning back to the now standing Pollania. He bowed deeply. "Clearly I must have misheard Lord William. And I did not mean to question the business of the County of Riverbrook. The business of the Crown and the Crown's daughter are mine to carry out. Simply point me to my destination in the Highlands where I might find Our Grace and I will be on my way."

Fearing he might have stepped a bit too far, he quickly bowed his head again. "By your leave, of course."

City of Pratt

"Wait, what? Slow down. Just who is your father? Or was, sorry? And how was Jardin involved?"

Freeda was again pacing the room, which of course took about three steps before she was in need of turning. She spun toward the door, telling Baran, "I need to get out of here. I need to walk."

She flung the door opened, took just two steps, and stopped. She looked back to Baran, who was obviously still trying to figure out what was happening. She practically spat in his direction, "Well, you coming?"

Down on the street, Freeda took a hard turn -- didn't matter left or right as she didn't have a destination -- and headed off into the crowded streets. When Baran caught up, she told him vaguely, "Count Frederican Hollard."

She pushed through the Market's crowd, causing one merchant to curse her when she knocked over a portion of his stand. She angrily threw a silver coin at him before heading off down an alley. She stopped suddenly, turning back to her companion. Again, she was pacing, but this time a dozen steps or more as she ranted on and on about her childhood ... about living on a farm south of Pratt ... about believing that Cronan -- the farm's Master, a Landed Peasant -- had been her father ... about learning that the Count of Hollard was actually her father, as he was with Freeda's three younger brothers ... about how two of her brothers had died in a fire, then the third boy -- as well as her mother -- were suddenly taken away by Hollard and she, Freeda, was left behind.

She could have continued with what happened to her after that. But that would have involved recalling how Cronan had taken advantage of her ... of how he'd brutalized her ... raped her, night after night for two weeks ... until she'd finally her anger and hatred for the man had caused her to stick a sharp, broken stool leg into his neck.

"I never saw my brother again," Freeda told Baran. She didn't tell him that she'd stolen a large bag of anything and every thing of value, from coin to silver picture frames to candle sticks to decorative daggers. She continued, "I ran. Had to. The Magistrate had issued a warrant for my arrest ... the Sheriff was searching the countryside for me. I fled to Pratt, found a room, and ... hid, basically."

A pair of giggling children ran down the alley chasing a fleeing chicken. When they were gone, Freeda continued, "I was lucky. I met a woman ... Lucy. She took me in, cared for me. Taught me. I learned how to do what I do."

She skipped over more details about how she'd been a spy for Lucy and then -- after the woman's execution -- gone to become the same for Countess Pollania, then Master Spy to Ranna. Instead, she stuck to the reason she was here in this alley at all.

"My ... my father," she said, the last word coming out with obvious distaste. She prefaced that part of the discussion with an explanation of how she'd recognized her brother. She then continued, "The Count and his wife were attacked ... murdered. Leonin ... Leo ... he believes Jardin is responsible ... and I have to know whether it's true or not."

She spun to look directly at Baran. "I-- We can't let this get in the way of our mission. But ... Baran ... I have to know. I'm not leaving this city until I know who killed my brother's father. I'm not leaving ... until I get revenge for him."

Riverbrook Castle:

"Simply point me to my destination in the Highlands where I might find Our Grace and I will be on my way."

Pollania smiled a bit at Trett's response. The man was testing her tale again. There would be no convincing him that Ranna was out of the County. Fortunately, Pollania didn't have to convince Trett; this was her home, he was a visitor, and she had a choice of making him welcome ... or sending him packing.

She could have done the latter -- kicked him back to Weston with a Guard escort. But why not have some fun. She looked to William and asked, "Captain, do you know of my granddaughter's location at this time?"

William hesitated, not immediately understanding the Countess's game. Then, his face lit up. He nodded politely to Pollania, answering, "Yes, My Lady. She should be, um ... let's see, I would say close to the Keipernell Pass ... just short of her destination ... Black Rock Keep."

He looked to Trett and -- doing his best to contain the smirk that wanted to escape -- asked the man with feigned kindness and the respect due to his station as a representative of a Royal, "If you would like, Lord Trett, we could leave within the hour."

"Your girl ... what was the name again, dear?" Pollania asked Olean. Victoria's servant gave her name, and the Countess looked back to Trett and finished, "I'm afraid I couldn't let your servant girl go with you. The Highlands are a dangerous place."

Pollania sat in her throne-like chair again, looking to William. "Make the arrangements, Lord William."

She looked to Trett again, raising an eyebrow. "You did wish to go, Lord Trett ... yes?"

City of Pratt

Baran was taken aback by Freeda's story and listened in detail. She was clearly skipping over important parts, but he could fill in the gaps well enough to know better than to ask for details. There was pain and...joy? She had family. An orphan himself, he understood the loneliness that could come from feeling you had no one.

"I agree, we need to find out if Jardin was involved. And, if so, you'll get your revenge. He's already on our short list of those involved.

"But Jardin isn't the type to just kill people, nobles of Pratt in particular. He's, at best, a middle man. A guy who knows people and who's willing to take money for shady dealings at times."

Baran realized he was pacing as aggressively as Freeda. He stopped.

"I'd suspected Cordan's involvement because of Jardin and because Cordan wanted to become king. A war would do that. But not all of the barons of Pratt want a king. Many were content to remain a non threatening neighbor to Weston. What if your father was in that camp but found out about the plan to kill Ranna? Or just opposed any unification under a king period? That could explain the why of the assassination.

"When did he die? I'm assuming it was recently, because I hadn't heard anything before leaving. And it would explain the extra guards - rising tensions."

Baran considered their options.

"I arranged to meet Jardin early tomorrow morning. We can wait on that or watch him tonight to see if he goes for allies. Can we borrow your brother's stake out location?"

Trett was fully impressed with the Countess. William, not as much. They were clearly improvising, but he couldn't call them on the lie.

The last thing he wanted to do was travel to the Highlands on a wild goose chase with William. They couldn't risk him finding proof of deception and taking it to the king, so an "accident" would no doubt befall him along the way. With no one beside his useless carriage driver along, it was too great a risk.

Short of seeing Ranna in person, he already had most of what he needed from this little excursion.

"That is a generous offer, Countess," Trett said. "But Black Rock Keep is too far a journey for the time allotted. I trust I can leave the missive I carry for the princess with you, and that you'll encourage her to visit home as soon as possible.

"I will leave tomorrow morning, by your leave."

With that, he bowed formally.

City of Pratt

"...you'll get your revenge.

Freeda looked to Baran as he spoke those words, saying without really thinking, "Thank you."

As he continued -- talking about Jardin Lopes's personality and how murder wasn't typically in his bag of tricks -- Freeda found herself wondering why this was so important to her. It wasn't because she had any love for Frederican Hollard; the bastard had been fucking her mother for years trying to produce sons he could legitimize as heirs, while totally ignoring and ultimately abandoning his only daughter to a brutal, misogynistic rapist.

No, this was all about her brother. Leo had lost the man he'd loved. And even though Freeda hadn't seen her brother since shortly after he'd learned to walk, deep in her heart she'd always loved him and wished him a good life. Her tragic upbringing hadn't needed his despair as company.

As Baran went on about the possible motives for killing Count Hollard, Freeda contemplated the things she'd been told by her contacts. Nothing she'd heard today contradicted what Baran was hypothesizing. Cordan wanted to be King, or at the least Supreme Chancellor; most of the other Pratt Barons opposed that. Killing Ranna would prevent the Weston-Highlands merger-by-marriage; but most of the Pratt Barons wouldn't want to risk war with Weston if Pratt was found responsible for the Princess's murder.

There was just one thing -- one very important thing -- that Freeda just couldn't figure out. If Cordan hadn't initiated the assassination attempt, who had? Who the hell had the kind of coinage that Freeda's contacts had told her were just added to the Pratt treasury and wanted Princess Ranna dead.

She smirked, then chuckled to herself. An outrageous thought came to her: the only person who fit the description was ... Princess Victoria. Freeda laughed again. No, that was just impossible ... ridiculous!

Baran asked about her father, "When did he die? I'm assuming it was recently, because I hadn't heard anything before leaving."

"Two weeks ago," Freeda answered. "That would have been about the time you left."

He continued, "And it would explain the extra guards - rising tensions."

"My contacts have confirmed your suspicions about the roadblocks," she said.

Baran told about his arranged meeting with Jardin, then asked, "Can we borrow your brother's stake out location?"

"Of course," Freeda said without hesitation. "I'm going there tonight, to talk to Leo about his ... about our father."

They discussed their surveillance plans and made plans for Baran, Caitrin, and Rollen to arrive inconspicuously after dark. Freeda headed for the room Leo had let, where they talked for more than three hours about their lives. Freeda was so very happy to hear that her brother had had a good life. When Leo expressed concern that Freeda hadn't partaken of that life, she told him that she, too, had had a happy, safe, and prosperous life. It wasn't entirely a lie: yes, she'd been abused, raped, pursued, and essentially forced into a life of crime and espionage; but her later years, those in Riverbrook, had been better than those enjoyed by so many others, with amble coin, warm and dry housing, friends, lovers, and more.

When the others arrived, Freeda excused herself to take a walk. She moved close to Baran on her way out the door, whispering to him, "Remember our first night together ... the wench you offered me. I think I'll go look for her sister. Don't wait up for me."

She winked to him and left, using the building's back entrance.

"That is a generous offer, Countess," Trett said, refusing Pollania's offer.

The Countess knew he would, of course. He was no idiot; he knew Ranna was still in Riverbrook or -- at the least -- he knew that if she had gone north, William would never actually let Trett reach her.

"I will leave tomorrow morning, by your leave."

With that, he bowed formally.

"Olean, please stay," Pollania said, turning back to her chair. "I'd like to talk to you about my other granddaughter, please."

She looked to Trett, telling him, "I'll have a girl sent to your room, Lord ... to ... serve your needs during your servant's absence."

The way Pollania spoke the word serve left little doubt that she understood what kind of service such a man would partake, given the opportunity and the right girl. But to cover the inappropriateness of her comment, she added, "She'll bring food, drink ... whatever else you need."

She looked to an Orderly standing near the door. "See to it, please."

The Orderly bowed, stepped out into the open doorway, and politely gestured Trett to follow. She headed away, presuming he'd follow.

(OOC: This is my 3rd consecutive post. I didn't want anyone to miss one of them.)


The City of Pratt
Stakeout of Jardin Lopes' home:

As Freeda was heading for the back entrance of the house, Caitrin hurried to catch her in the alley. She pulled the older woman away from the back door into the dark, then peeked back as if fearing the men would overhear.

"So, this young man ... Leo..." she began tentatively.

The hungry expression on Caitrin's face must have given her away. Freeda laughed -- loud enough to cause the younger woman to slap a hand over the Master Spy's mouth. Freeda pulled the fingers away and asked with humor, "What happened to you, Cait? When I last saw you, you were just a shy girl who--"

"Just--"" Caitrin cut in, not finishing, as she really hadn't known what she was going to say. The two looked into one another's eyes for a moment, lips wide with knowing smiles, before Caitrin finally asked in a whisper, "So ... you wouldn't care?"

Freeda laughed again, softer this time, and as she turned to walk away answered with, "Question is ... would your husband?"

Caitrin watched Freeda disappear into the dark of the alley, contemplated the question a moment, then thought to herself, What he doesn't know won't hurt him.

City of Pratt
Stakeout of the Jardin Lopes' home:

After Freeda's amusing departure (Baran couldn't fault her for needing some relief, mental and physical), he settled in for a dull night of watching Jardin's place. At least they had some company and enough privacy in the room so they could chat. Caitrin struck up a conversation with Leo, curious about what it was like growing up as a noble. Rollen seemed subdued.

"Rollen, take a walk?" Baran asked. He looked at the other two. "Just keep an eye on the place. Don't follow anyone who leaves. We'll be back in an hour or two."

Rollen shrugged and followed him out the back.

Once they were away from crowds, Baran began hinting around about his concerns that the Pratt barons were fighting amongst themselves, possibly a prelude to civil war. Rollen was stunned by that, yet didn't dismiss the notion.

"So where do you stand?" Rollen said. "With Cordan? The independents? Or someone else?"

That last suggested his friend had an inkling that Baran might have switched allegiances altogether. Perceptive guy.

"Truth be told, I'm not sure. Just trying to keep my head above water and firmly attached to my shoulders. Just like old times, huh?"

Rollen chuckled and nodded at that.

City of Pratt
Stakeout of the Jardin Lopes' home:

After Freeda's departure to find a friend for the night, the older two men were all work, watching the house across the narrow road and talking about the politics of Pratt and Weston. Leo seemed overwhelmed with the days activities -- he'd discovered his long lost sister while tracking his father's alleged killer -- and Caitrin did her best to engage him in conversation to relieve the stress he seemed to be suffering.

And in that time, what felt like an hour or perhaps two, Caitrin's mind had simply been spinning with lust-filled thoughts about the Master Spy's younger brother. She didn't think it was a one directional infatuation; Caitrin thought young Leonin's occasional glances at her below the neck line meant he was having some of the same thoughts about her that she was about him.

Or was it her imagination? She didn't know, nor did she care. Caitrin was burning up inside for the only man in the let home who was younger than she. Oh, the age difference with Rollen had never been a problem, of course. It was typical -- perhaps even expected -- that a young peasant girl would end up with an older man. After all, a man needed time to put together a life that would support a wife and future children.

Rollen had done that. He'd gotten life experience in the Army beside Baran. He'd learned even more after the King's army had been disbanded. He'd gotten enough coin gathered to afford the newlywed couple's return to Weston. They might even be able to entice the Count to whom Caitrin's father had paid taxes to turn over the Ferry and let them operate it.

But with Rollen's age and life experience came a factor that hadn't excited Caitrin: Rollen had known so many other women during his adult life, and -- until Baran, at least -- Caitrin had only known Rollen. There was something inside her, something new, somethin unknown, that was driving her ... driving her to find new adventure ... upon new cocks! Not just new cocks, though. New cocks that hadn't already enjoyed all the different forms of pleasure that the world of wanton women had to offer.

Caitrin wanted just once to be the woman introducing such pleasures to a man. And something about the young Leo's mannerisms and body language and gentle voice ... and occasional peeks her way ... told Caitrin that she would be one of his first lovers ever, if not the first ever!

Of course, she had to get the young man alone first. That was going to be difficult, of course; the five were working, spying, stalking, and likely a whole lot more over the hours and days to come. How was Caitrin going to get the young man alone when she was supposed to be--

"Rollen, take a walk?" Baran asked.

And then the Heaven's opened, and the Angels called down upon Caitrin, singing to her Here's your chance, you horny little thing!

Baran continued as he looked to Caitrin and Leo, "Just keep an eye on the place. Don't follow anyone who leaves. We'll be back in an hour or two."

As if the Gods had been listening -- or maybe reaching up under her dress to feel how wet with anticipation she'd become -- Caitrin suddenly found herself alone with Leo. Her heart was beating noticeably faster, and she honestly thought her body was trembling with excitement.

What has happened to you? she asked herself, knowing that she just had to have this young man. You have become an absolute slut! Freeda was right!

They chatted for another half hour or so, their shared nervousness obvious. Caitrin asked about the house Leo had let, who it belonged to, how much it had cost ... and a dozen other questions that had nothing to do with whether or not he'd soon be wearing her around his erection. She was nervous; she'd never seduced a man before. She didn't count stripping that first night that her husband had offered her to his old Army superior as seducing another.

Caitrin was looking for something that would get them closer to one another, physically. As they'd been moving about the main room of the let house, they'd neared one another on occasion. But Leo seemed very much the gentleman, the young Noble raised with propriety concerning being alone with women; despite Caitrin's deep desire for him to be close to her -- in her, to be honest -- he continued to maintain a proper space between them.

Even when she intentionally narrowed the distance between them, Leo somehow made the gap return once again. At one point, she made him a cup of tea from the water heating on the kitchen stove. But when she brought it to him, he put the little serving table between them. When he went to a window to look out upon Jardin's home and Caitrin moved to stand next to him, he casually backed away, finding something else to do for the moment.

Caitrin was burning with lust and needed something that would bring them closer, something from which Leo couldn't easily withdraw. Finally, his movement through the home's main parlor offered her a chance to cut right before him. She grasped his defected hand -- which she had asked Freeda about earlier -- and held it before her.

"How did this happen, Leo?" she said with a sympathetic tone. "Does it hurt?"

He tried to pull his hand back; he was probably sensitive about it, as many ignorant people saw birth defects as the punishment of the Gods. But Caitrin held tight to Leo's wrist and ... well, quite literally began petting the young man's hand about where his pinky was little more than a nub about the size of one of Caitrin's nipples and the last segment of his ring finger was cocked at enough of an angle as to make it appear he'd simply broken it as a small child.

As he responded, the burning newlywed turned his hand this way and that, studying it, tracing a fingertip over the imperfection. Then ... looking up into his eyes for a long moment ... holding Leo's hand even more intimately ... Caitrin lifted it to before her face ... and kissed it near its abnormalities ... then again ... then ... smirking devilishly ... she turned his hand and her head both ... and kissed his open palm with her wetted lips ... and her tongue.

Finally, she broke the tension filled silence, asking in whisper, "Have you ever been with a woman, Leonin?"

As if the death of his father wasn't enough of an upheaval in Leo's life, now he'd stumbled into a sister he didn't know he had and had somehow gotten wrapped up with some people who might be after the same guy who's been responsible for his father's death. It was overwhelming.

And yet the young woman, Caitrin, had focused on taking to him - just talking - and eased his mind and spirit. She seemed genuinely interested in his life and experiences. It was odd talking with someone like her. Not servants who were politely deferential, or his father's advisors who were all business, or the couple girls who occasionally tolerated his courting. They rarely seemed able to get past his fingers and those who did he suspected of being far more interested in his inheritance than him.

When the men left them alone, rather than focus on watching the house across the street, Caitrin's attention turned even more on him. It made him nervous, yet excited. She was attractive and sweet and seemingly interested. So interested she kept trying to get closer to him. It was tempting, yet she was married! That was inappropriate.

Try as he might to evade her, she finally caught him. And to his horror, she went straight for his deformity.

"How did this happen, Leo?" she asked. "Does it hurt?"

"I...I was born like this," he muttered. "And no, it doesn't bother me."

He tried to pull back, embarrassed, but she held tighter...and then started kissing it! What manner of woman was this, too not be repulsed by him? Apparently the sort who thought little of her marriage vows. Leo had little experience with girls beyond some chaste kissing and idle boasting among the other boys. His body, however, responded with certain expectations - heart racing, palms sweaty, and cock swelling.

The way she looked at him - determined, lusty - had him trembling. "Have you ever been with a woman, Leonin?"

He gulped.

"I've, uh, you know..." He tried to calm his breathing. It didn't work. "Danced and flirted and kissed and such, I suppose. But since I'm not married..."

He knew what she was likely suggesting or offering. He wanted it so badly, too, especially with someone like her who had no repulsion to his hand. Yet...she was married! And her husband, the burly soldier guy with the even bigger former soldier friend, could return at any time!

He glanced down at her modest chest involuntarily, then forced his eyes back up. Did she have any idea the state she'd put him in?

Leo visibly gulped with nervousness.

"I've, uh, you know..."

Caitrin smiled a bit wider at the boy's nervousness. His hand was now trembling within hers, and that had nothing to do with its ... different-ness from her own.

"But since I'm not married..."

Caitrin giggled at that. Not married. He's never been with a woman because he's not married. She couldn't help but wonder just what his upbringing had been like. Males, particularly Noble males, rarely if ever reached Leo's age without their father or an uncle or older brother introducing them to a brothel whore or eager-to-please Household servant. It intrigued Caitrin that Leo had made it this long without succumbing to the delights of at least one of these such women.

Seeing Leo's gaze drop to her bosom, Caitrin turned his hand, palm facing her, and pressed it upon one of her young tits. She watched his reaction with great interest as she cupped his fingers around the small but firm melon. Then, she released her hold on his hand and reached to his belt to begin unfastening it.