"The Heir Presumptive" (closed)

County of Warrick
Western Barony of Parse
The Breck Farm
Sunrise:

"Walton Briggs," he said.

Nalla listened to the man's explanation as she continued with his care. She knew of Princess Ranna, of course; who didn't? And she knew of the Wailing Woods Highwaymen, too; who around here didn't? They were thought of as many different things by the locals, from scoundrels and murders to benevolent heroes.

The injured man before Nalla would probably have put them in the former category for having put a bolt in his side. The young, naïve Camilla would position them nearer to the latter, though. This past spring, the Highwaymen had been solely responsible for Camilla and her family retaining possession of the family farm. As planting season neared, they'd provided a large bag of turnip seed and an already pregnant sow, both stolen, of course; and later during the summer, as last year's food stuffs ran out, they'd returned a second time with the hind quarter of a elk and two bags of flour, poached from the Count's land and stolen from his silos, respectively. But that hadn't been enough; the Highwaymen had spent two days here, helping Camilla's father rebuild a barn -- this barn -- after it had nearly collapsed in an unexpected summer thunderstorm.

Nalla had her own opinion of the Highwaymen. But, that opinion was based mostly on her past experiences with their leader, Kitts. It was wrong of her to base her feelings about the entire community simply on her feelings about him. But sometimes her emotions got away from her.

"She begged them to spare me."

"She sounds like a very noble woman," Nalla said, urging Walton to lay back into the straw bed.

"Has there been any word?" he asked. "Any ransom demands?"

"No, not yet," she said, thinking how could there be, it's barely been more than a day. Of course, she didn't realize that Walton's delirium had left him thinking he'd been here for so much longer than he had. "I'm sure she will be fine, sire. The Highwaymen may be thieves and scoundrels, but they are honorable when it relates to womenfolk."

Camilla rushed into the barn quickly, warning, "My father is coming! Shush!"

The peasant girl hurried back into the barn's main room and went to work as her father arrived. They chatted a bit, and when it became clear that the man's tasks would take him to the tack room, Camilla quickly volunteered to perform the chore herself. Her father asked with humor is she was coming down with a fever, as she didn't typically volunteer to do his chores. Camilla only laughed, and urged him to go help her mother with gathering the wood he'd cut.

"He won't be back today," she said when she got to the tack room. "All the chores out here are mine."

Looking to Nalla, Camilla asked, "Should we move him somewhere safer? Hide him?"

"No, I wouldn't advise it," the healer said. "He needs to remain right here for a day or two at the least."

Camilla tried to hide her pleased smile but failed. She didn't want to see Walton leave any sooner than necessary. Of course, she didn't want her father to learn that she had a man hidden out here either.

"I need to pick some more herbs and gather some Hog root," Nalla said. She told Camilla to get back to her chores -- "Let your father see you working" -- then stood and headed for the barn's back entrance. "I will be back in a couple of hours."

She headed off to the forest, not knowing that during that two hours one of the men who'd attacked Walton would happen upon her.

County of Warrick
Western Barony of Parse
The Breck Farm
Morning:

Walton was perplexed by the conversation between the women. Why was he being hidden in a barn? He was no criminal, but a soldier of one of this nation's nobility. The older one told Camilla to get back to work while she, too, disappeared to her own chores.

Left alone with his pain, he dozed. Some time later, Camilla was back to check on him. She seemed so...fascinated with him. He was used to being overlooked, just another cog among the servants.

She inquired as to how he was feeling.

"Better," he said. "But still in bad shape. I...geez, I really need to pee."

Now that it occurred to him, the urge was overwhelming. He couldn't stand and asked for help. She tried, but the pain shooting through his side was so intense he nearly passed out. Soaked in sweat from the effort, he laid back down. Camilla looked worried.

"Maybe a bucket?" He was embarrassed to have to ask, but it was better than pissing himself and his bedding. She raced off and returned only moments later with a battered wooden bucket.

He rolled to his side, gasping in pain. Camilla was clearly torn between wanting to help and turning her back to give him privacy. He tried to pull his under pants down but the pain and effort was too much.

"I hate to ask this of a lady, but I really need your help."

The blush of embarrassment merged with the flush of pain. She nodded and helped him pull his bottoms down as he used what energy he had left to lift his hips. Free, he asked her to further help by holding the bucket on its side, tilted enough to not spill all back out. Unable to hold back any longer, he finally relieved himself. It was beyond embarrassing, yet a blessed relief.

"Your kindness is beyond words," he said, rolling back to his backside and catching his breath. That he was still exposed barely crossed his mind.

The Village Greenhaven
On the Riverbrook-Weston Road
Dawn

Trett didn't know how best to comfort the young woman, but clearly Olean had some notion. He let the two of them keep the carriage to themselves while he rode with the driver, eyes open for highwaymen despite not yet having reached the woods.

At a stop, Olean gave him something of an update, after which Anya called for him.

"Thank you my lord … for saving me from that-- I will never forget what you did for me today, Lord Trett."

The sincerity in her voice was reassuring and humbling. He nodded.

"I'm just glad I heard and got there when I did," he said. "Animals like that don't belong in Weston."

He joined them in the carriage for the next stretch of the journey. Anya sat beside him, body pressed into his, and he held her hand. She felt so tiny, so fragile, and yet there was a strength to her he admired. Pollania didn't realize what she'd lost with this one.

Two hours later, the driver stopped and called for Trett. He'd found what was likely the site of the ambush, given the brown blood stains on the ground. Trett gave the area a wary inspection, enough to appreciate the choice of location by the bandits. That carriage had been well guarded. Theirs was anything but. Would their lower profile help, or just the recency of the last attack keep them from striking again in the same spot? He had to hope so.

He rode the rest of the way with the driver, lending an extra pair of eyes to watch for an ambush. Thankfully, none was forthcoming. Now he just had to impose upon and put up with an obnoxious back water Count for the evening.

County of Warrick
Western Barony of Parse
The Breck Farm
Morning:

Walton said,."...geez, I really need to pee."

Camilla's eyes widened at the words and her face exploded in a deep red. Nalla had warned her of this, that she might have to help the injured man with his bodily functions. Even then the innocent, naïve farm girl had blushed deeply.

"Maybe a bucket?" He was embarrassed to ask.

"Yes, sire," Camilla said, rushing off.

At the other end of the barn, she snatched up one of the grain feed buckets. Camilla didn't imagine that the sow and her new piglets would mind the smell of a human's urine the next time she brought them food waste from the kitchen table or garden. She'd wash it out, of course, but really, they were just hogs. She returned to set it near Walton, then hurriedly exited the tack room to stand out in the in main portion of the barn.

Out of her sight, though, Camilla could hear the pain with which Walton was dealing. "Are you alright, sire. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"I hate to ask this of a lady," Walton called out to her, "but I really need your help."

She peeked back into the tack room to see that Walton wasn't going to be able to do this on his own. Camilla's face exploded yet again! If she couldn't get past this embarrassment, one day she was going to pass out from a lack of blood to her brain. Her embarrassment wasn't at the thought of having to help a strange man get his cock out to empty his bladder, though; it was at the knowledge that she wanted to help a strange man get his cock out at all.

Camilla had never before seen a man's … manhood. Well, her father's, on occasion. When he himself was peeing out in the field or washing down at the creek. Once she'd even caught her parents having sex, though, she really hadn't seen much of his cock as it was deep inside her mother's … womanhood?

Embarrassment aside, she nodded to Walton and sat near him, untying the string holding his underpants in place. She thought she was done and was ready to again flee. But then she found herself holding the bucket, too! Camilla kept her eyes averted, to give him privacy...

...at first.

Despite knowing it was so wrong, Camilla peeked down out of the corner of her eye toward Walton's groin. She could see his cock! Oh, not all of it; his hand was in the way, as was her own elbow as she held the bucket. Trying to be inconspicuous, Camilla shifted her arm and leaned just a bit … and there it was, in all its magnificent glory.

The naïve young woman just stared as Walton emptied his bladder. The fact that he was peeing didn't effect her in the least; all animals peed, and so did she. But … not through one of those. Besides, it wasn't his urinating that fascinated her, of course. It was the fact that she was seeing the sex tool of a man laying in her father's barn! This was so wrong. What was that word Nalla had used once to describe off limit things … taboo?

Young women like her weren't supposed to be looking at the penises of men. Their husbands, sure. But no others. And yet, Camilla's heart was racing, her chest rising and falling more noticeably at the excitement of looking down upon--

Oh no! her brain screamed at her suddenly. Walton had finished and rolled to his back once again … and Camilla's gaze had remained upon his cock as she remained lost in her thoughts. She diverted her gaze quickly, then hurried to right the bucket without spilling its contents. She stood quickly to leave, then took another taboo glance at Walton as he just lay there, underpants below his balls.

"I'm sorry, sire," Camilla said softly, diverting her eyes again. "I'll go dump this and return."

She hurried away to slosh the bucket out upon the ground beyond the barn's door, then returned … to find an exhausted or maybe just seriously relieved Walton laying back with eyes closed … and his cock still out. Camilla set the bucket aside and just stared at the man's penis. It was so … interesting. She wondered if -- when he'd been her age -- Walton had found a woman's privates interesting as well. Was that the nature of having different parts? A woman wanted to see a man's and a man wanted to see a woman's?

When she realized that Walton's eyes were open again and set upon her, Camilla -- yeah, you guessed it -- flushed brightly red once again. She diverted her gaze, and after a moment waggled a hand toward his groin as she asked, "Would you like me help you … cover up, sire."

She sat on her knees and feigned keeping her gaze diverted … but in reality she was getting a close up look at Walton's manhood as she helped pull the underpants up and over, then lightly tie them closed again.

County of Warrick
Western Barony of Parse
The Breck Farm
Morning:

Between the pain and relief, Walton almost started dozing while Camilla emptied the bucket. The feeling of being watched prompted him to crack his eyes. She was standing close, her eyes locked...on his groin. He realized he'd run out of energy before covering up and was completely exposed to her gaze.

He flushed with embarrassment, at which point she realized she'd been caught starting and she erupted in deep shades of crimson.

She waved her hand generally in that direction and said, "Would you like me help you … cover up, sire."

It was completely outside the boundaries of propriety, but he was so exhausted the offer actually was tempting. He'd needed her help getting them down and might very well need it getting covered back up. And, if he was honest with himself, he was intrigued by her interest in seeing him exposed.

"I probably could use the help, yes," he said. "If you don't mind, miss."

Still beet red, she knelt beside him and reached for the waist of his underclothes. Her eyes remained on his manhood. He couldn't help but remember the way she'd looked that morning - in that thin shift. He'd nearly seen as much of her as she was seeing of him now. Had that been intentional? She did seem fascinated by him.

And she'd kissed him. It came back to him now.

Between her gaze and the memories, his cock began to swell. He tried to will it down, but his body was in control. If anything, his focus on it only made it swell faster. Please pull up my pants!

Camilla's face flushed even darker, if possible, yet she didn't look away. She did, thankfully, get his underclothes pulled up enough to cover him, though it took a bit of work getting over his completely erect member.

"I'm so sorry, miss," he said, closing his eyes and laying his head back. "I meant nothing by that. Your kindness and understanding are too much for this poor soldier."

The Cooked Goose Inn
The City of Pratt
-noonish-



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

"There'll always be room for the likes of you," he said, winking.

He watched as she rose, stripped, and began to wash before him. His attention was still on her words, but that male part of his brain couldn't help but appreciate her womanly curves. Freeda was a very attractive woman. Between that and her apparently lack of interest in men, Baran found himself desiring her even more. His cock woke to the idea.

When Freeda finished washing and began to dress, Baran rose from the bed to avail himself of the warm water and washcloth. He'd slept naked and his erection was quite prominent. She'd seen him in considerably more compromising circumstances, though, so he figured she wouldn't be offended.

She glanced, but barely skipped a beat in her continued analysis of the situation. [color]purple]"But, as I said … if I'm right. I suggest we finish our business with Jardin … meaning find a way to slit his fucking throat … and then get back to Weston to figure this all out."[/color]

"The sooner, the better. Tonight, probably."

Freeda laughed at a new round of grunting coming from their neighbors that had replaced the cries of ecstasy. "You do down and get a table filled with food, and I'll deal with the love birds."

"Right."

He quickly finished scrubbing himself down, donned the cleaner of his shirts, and went down to the common room to secure lunch. For two or four? He wasn't sure and just ordered a lot of food.

A minute or two later, Freeda joined him with the news that the new couple were going to part company with them and get on with handling Leo's assumption of his father's vacated office.

"Probably for the best," Baran said, having no stomach for anyone else's death on his hands. He and Freeda at least knew what they'd signed up for. "Hopefully, Leo hasn't expressed many of his father's political opinions. Once Jardin's out of the picture, that might either slow down the culling of dissenters or hasten it. We might have to make this a statement kill, not just a quiet and random-seeming assassination.

"I know many of Jardin's usual haunts, so finding him shouldn't be that difficult as long as he stays in town. The only line I'll draw is that we don't do it at his house. His wife will be there and she's innocent of all this, best I can tell."

On the North Fork of the Riverbrook-Weston Road
Midday:

When Trett entered the coach for the next leg of the ride, finding a seat next to her, Anya didn't hesitate to lean into him for comfort. For this moment, she'd forgotten that she was a Burkinian Diaspora sympathizer sent to spy on Trett, Victoria, and the entirety of the Royal Weston Household, and that Trett himself was the man who had relieved her of her chastity just days earlier after having purchased her, like a prize cow at the Market Auction. No, right now, Lord Trett was the man who had prevented what could have been the horrific rape of her young body … and possibly even its murder afterward to conceal the rapist's identity.

She fell asleep in his arms, only waking two hours later when the driver stopped the coach as the thickening of the forest. When Trett exited the coach's interior and once again mounted to sit next to the driver, Olean told Anya cryptically, "The Wailing Woods."

When she saw that the younger woman didn't understand, Olean moved to take Trett's former seat and took over holding the still distraught young thing. She could have explained about the dangers in the woods or that the coach they'd found had been attacked here. But Anya had already been through so much already. Did she really need something more to make her body tremble?

They continued on for another couple of hours, exiting the Woods and spending much of the time riding through wild pasturelands or cultivated farmlands. They occasionally passed through tiny villages or past modest homes that belonged to non-Noble Lords. They stopped each time they met uniformed soldiers, and while the women couldn't hear everything that was exchanged, it seemed that Trett was passing on what he knew about the coach and asking the men if there was anything that he himself should know about the road ahead.


It was late in the afternoon when they arrived at Lord Warrick's estate. The road ended at small stone structure that Olean would later learn was the Guards House. After verifying Lord Trett's identity -- one of the men knew him by face -- the women were invited to wait while Trett was taken up to the main house. Anya looked concern about being left with men she didn't know, but she was reassured that nothing would happen to her here.

The Guardsmen led the two women to a small but very well appointed room. It was obvious that Count Warrick was serious about making his guests comfortable. A girl barely into her teens served the pair hot drinks and baked treats. Olean whispered to Anya, "I'll be right back. You are safe here alone, I assure you."

She went outside, escorted by one of the Guardsmen, to get her first look at Warrick Keep. She'd heard it described before but had never actually been here. A man in elegant clothes stood at the door, awaiting his visitor. Trett met the man, exchanged the appropriate pleasantries, and at one point glanced back toward the Guards House. After a moment longer, the man Olean presumed was Count Warrick spoke to a Guardsman standing behind him, and the soldier disappeared into the Keep.

The Count and Lord entered as well, and Olean returned to Anya to find her curled up in a chair in the corner of the room. They had since gotten her into a simple dress and hooded cloak and pulled her hair back into a simple but still elegant braid. But to Olean, Anya still looked as if just a frightened little girl.

They sat close together and drank hot, sweet liquids until there was activity outside the Guards House. The door to the room opened, and a beautiful, buxomly woman entered, smiling politely as she said, "Hello. My name is Zelia. But … you can call me Zee. Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?"

Olean noticed that the woman didn't identify herself as any particular member of the Warrick Household. That could only mean one thing: Zee was someone's mistress, likely the Count himself. The woman was dressed very nicely, though, with the garb of a Noble woman and a jeweled necklace that was likely worth more than Olean would earn in a lifetime sucking cocks that belong to the man she was likely pleasing with those beautiful, full lips.

"Will we furnished appropriate quarters soon, my Lady?" Olean asked. She looked to Anya, who had stood but whose head was tilted such that her hood practically hid her face. "My friend needs to rest … and bathe, please."

"Of course," Zee said, half turning and gesturing toward the door. As the two women came together and headed for the door, the blonde said softly, "Any you can call me Zee. I may dress and present myself as the lady of the house, but..."

She left the explanation end there, and the look in Olean's face told Zee that she understood perfectly well. The three of them loaded into a smallish, open coach pulled by a single, also smallish horse, and were whisked away to the moat walk that led up to the Keep. Inside the small castle, they were led upstairs to a guest room, elegantly furnished. Olean and Anya's things were already here, though, Trett's were noticeably missing.

Zee had already been told a bit of what to expect concerning the two women. She'd put one of the Chambermaids to work even before retrieving the two: there was already a large platter of food and pitchers of water, wine, and ale on a large dining table; the fire in the hearth was just beginning to pick up with a wild crackling of sappy logs; and a trio of young servants were coming in and out of the room with buckets of hot water to fill the tub in the corner, which Olean was surprised to find was expertly crafted of iron and local hardwoods for utility and comfort both.

"If there is anything more you require," Zee told the pair as they got comfortable, "you are but to ask. A servant will be just outside the door at all times."

She gave the two a polite head nod, which received an equal gesture from Olean. Anya, for her part, gave a very respectful curtsy, not having any idea that the lady was little more than their host's play thing.

"Let's get you into a hot bath, Anya," Olean said almost as soon as they were gone. The girl's body was still caked with dried mud in some places, Trett having been appropriately polite in his cleaning of Anya's body after the attack. After the young beauty was sat in the almost-too-hot water, Olean washed her with a gentle touch, reassuring her, "Lord Trett will never allow anyone to harm you ever again, my dear."

"That man--" Anya began, the words catching in her throat. After a moment, she moved to a different male, asking, "Will Lord Trett be like that with me … wanting to … take pleasures from me without concern for me?"

"No, Anya, he won't," Olean answered, not entirely certain whether or not she was telling the truth, a lie, or something in between. "Lord Trett is your master, and … if he wishes something from you, you must give it. Sometimes it may be something you would prefer not to do. But, you will do it, because you serve him. But … he will not be cruel to you, as was that man at the stream. You are a very special girl, Anya. Lord Trett did not purchase you to hurt you. He could do that to any number or women or men in any number of Establishments throughout the Kingdom with only the payment of a single coin, not an entire purse as he parted with to gain you."

Anya considered the woman's words and felt … conflicted. She wanted to believe what Olean was telling her, but the fact that she was just a slave to Trett meant that at any moment, if he was to tire of her, he could slit her throat and feed her to the dogs. Or worse, give her to his Guardsmen for their pleasure, only to one day meet the same fate with the dogs.

"Will I … will I have to serve my master tonight, Olean?" Anya asked tentatively.

"No," the other woman said quickly. "I will be tending to Lord Trett tonight. You are to relax … eat … drink to your heart's content if you wish. Forget this day … and tomorrow we will start anew."

Olean turned the bathing beauty's face to her and kissed her softly on the lips. The surprise in Anya's face made Olean laugh and ask, "What?"

Anya was blushing deeply, clear down to her bared shoulders. Olean laughed and said knowingly, "You have never kissed another woman before."

Anya shook her head, her eyes still down. As she stood to dry her hands, Olean reassured the girl with a laugh, "Well, it wasn't sexual. I was only being friendly."

Olean began performing some little tasks about the room as she rattled on about this and that, nothing of great importance.

"I've never kissed anyone before," Anya suddenly said. When Olean stopped to look at her, the younger woman repeated, "I've never kissed anyone before … not until you kissed me."

Olean was confused. She said with a matter of fact tone, "You kissed Lord Trett … while you were in bed."

Anya lowered her gaze again and shook her head. "No. We only..."

Olean moved over closer to the tub, looking down upon Anya as she finished the statement, "You only had sex … but, Lord Trett never kissed you."

When Anya nodded again, Olean waited a moment before asking, "Does that bother you? Not kissing while having sex?"

Anya didn't immediately respond but then finally did shrug. Weakly, she said, "I just thought … I thought he would want to kiss me."

Olean moved closer still, kneeling next to the tub. She had to lift Anya's chin to let their eyes meet. "Anya, you remember why you're here, right?"

Anya nodded again. Whispering, she said, "I am to keep my eyes and ears open, in the service of my--"

Olean waved off the explanation, fearful that someone might be listening in. Also whispering, she told Anya, "With Lord Trett … you fuck, Anya. You don't make love. Do you understand the difference?"

Anya didn't respond, either with words or gesture. She wasn't entirely sure what Olean was getting at, but then, she didn't want to seem ignorant at the same time.

Olean stressed, "Don't fall in love with Lord Trett. Understand? "

Anya murmured, "Yes, of course. I understand."

The older, more experienced slave studied the younger for a long moment, and she knew that there was going to be a problem. But, there was nothing to be done about it now. She told Anya to eat, drink, and sleep, finishing with, "Don't wait up for me. They put Lord Trett up in another room, and I will probably be spending my evening there. But, I will come back and check on you."

The Cooked Goose Inn
The City of Pratt
-noonish-

Baran expressed, "Hopefully, Leo hasn't expressed many of his father's political opinions."

After Baran had finished, Freeda told him about her own conversations with her brother, hours before all the drama at the house that had ended with Rollen dead on the let home's floor. To Freeda's relief, Leo had been very reserved about the events unfolding in Pratt concerning the Crown or lack of one. She'd been able to tell after just an hour of catching up that he'd grown up a quiet introvert. His desire to murder his father's murderer had probably been the most outwardly thing he'd ever done, at least before sticking his cock deep inside his now-dead traveling partner's wife.

"Leo won't be a problem," Freeda reassured Baran. "He'll go home, manage the estate, grows his crops, pay his taxes … fuck Cait every night."

The two of them finalized their plan before Freeda excused herself. "I have some more people I want to talk to. I'll meet you at the time and place we agreed."

She headed out and passed through the City Gates again, eager to collect as much information about Jardin and/or Vernon as possible.

County of Warrick
Western Barony of Parse
The Breck Farm
Late Morning:

As she'd been trying to get Walton's underpants back in place, the job had been made harder by the fact that his manhood was getting … harder. And as it did, it became even more harder for Camilla to take her eyes off the thing. Finally, though, he was covered up. And yet … it was still there … obvious. The front of his underpants tented up over his crotch; the cotton fabric -- expensive compared to the wool the peasanty typically wore -- molded to the shape of Walton's cock, as if it were still out for her viewing.

"I'm so sorry, miss," he said, closing his eyes and laying his head back. "I meant nothing by that. Your kindness and understanding are too much for this poor soldier."

Camilla didn't fully understand what Walton meant by that. She didn't understand that the stiffening of his penis had been sexual in nature. As far as she knew, it did that to aid him in ridding his bladder of urine. After all, there were times when the plow mule's penis lengthened to great lengths, and with no female mule present, Camilla only assumed it was … natural.

She pulled the blanket over Walton's lower half, reluctantly as it blocked her view. Camilla excused herself to make an appearance before her father and sneak some more food at the same time. She didn't return for more than an hour, hurrying into the tack room. As she watched Walton eat the bread, dried meat, and sun-dehydrated fruit slices, Camilla studied Walton and chatted about life on the farm.

"Why does it do that, sire?" she asked during a break in the conversation. It seemed obvious to Camilla that Walton didn't understand the question. She blushed again, glancing to the blanket where it covered his now less obvious cock. She diverted her eyes a moment, then looked back to Walton as she asked, "Why … why does it get big like that? If it is okay for me to ask, sire."

County of Warrick
Western Barony of Parse
The Breck Farm
Late Morning:

Walton blushed furiously at the young woman's question. She really didn't know? Were they that isolated? He didn't think so, but maybe that was the way of things out here. It must have really taken something for her to ask.

"That's, uh..." He didn't know how to politely answer. She deserved the truth. "That's a, uh, natural response for a man when he's in the, uh, presence of a beautiful lady. Sometimes."

He hesitated before going further, afraid he might scare her away. Between the pain and isolation, Walton really appreciated her company.

"I'm almost afraid to ask this, but why are you hiding me in this barn or from your father?"

County of Warrick
Western Barony of Parse
The Breck Farm
Late Morning:

Walton answered, "That's a, uh, natural response for a man when he's in the, uh, presence of a beautiful lady. Sometimes."

Camilla blushed again, not because of the lesson in anatomy but because Walton had called her beautiful. No one had called her that before. Well, no one but her parents. And no one since she'd been a little girl.

But then, who would have paid her such a compliment? In all of her life, not including her family and Nalla, Camilla had likely met fewer than a dozen people. With the exception of when she'd gone to the Market at a child, she'd never left the farm. She'd never had a reason to leave. Her life was simple: wake up, eat, do chores, eat, go to bed.

Occasionally she walked to the edge of the woods, from where she could watch the road and see the passing strangers. She'd done that yesterday, of course, finding this very interesting stranger laying in the straw before her. But before Walton, Camilla had never contemplated actually going down to speak to any of the travelers.

"I'm almost afraid to ask this," Walton asked, "but why are you hiding me in this barn or from your father?"

Camilla's eyes dropped quickly to her lap, where her fingers had been nervously playing with a loose thread on the belt around her waist. After a moment she said barely above a whisper, "I … I was afraid."

When Walton asked of what she was afraid, Camilla was hesitant to respond. Eventually, though, she said in a weak voice, "I was afraid my papa would make you leave. I … I don't want you to … to go away."

Riverbrook Castle
Midnight:

The rapidly approaching boot falls in the passageway beyond her bed chamber door caused Ranna to slip a hand under her pillow, grasping the dagger that was always there. The step were comfortably familiar though, as was the rapping and voice at the door.

"My Grace!" the Captain of her Bodyguard called through the thick oak.

"Come in, William," Ranna called back, slipping out from under the covers to sit on the bed's edge.

A soft female voice from behind her asked with concern, "Is there trouble, My Grace."

Ranna smiled back to the slightly older woman who slid closer and half rose for a better view of the now opening door. She told her, "Go back to sleep, Mia. All's well."

Reaching a hand to the woman's fine buttocks, Ranna gave her bare flesh a playful slap that elicited a little cry, then a laugh. Mia sometimes served to keep Ranna warm at night, sometimes served to fulfill the Princess's sexual needs without the fear of pregnancy, and -- as with tonight -- sometimes did both.

Mia was no sex slave, as was Ranna's sister's Chamber Maid, Olean; she was no peasant girl pretending to be a slave, as was Lord Trett's new play thing, Anya. Mia was the granddaughter of the Baron of Parse, a woman of Noble birth who -- if Ranna had anything to say about it -- would one day inherit her grandfather's Barony and serve in the Council of Honor of the resurrected Burkinian Empire. But, that wouldn't happen for a great many years, if it happened at all. For now, Ranna was happy to simply have the beauty as an occasional bed mate and -- of course -- another set of eyes and ears within the House of Parse.

"What is it?" Ranna asked as she rose to cross to a pitcher of weak but flavorful wine.

"A rider, with a message from Warrick County," William began. With a concerned tone, he informed her, "The coach we sent west to distract Lord Trett was attacked."

Ranna looked up from her glass with wide eyes, the flame of a very near candle dancing across her concerned expression. "Chloe...?"

"Missing, my Grace," he said. Knowing Ranna's next question he continued, "Three of the Guardsmen feigning to be your Bodyguard were killed. Those who found them--"

"Three?" she cut in.

William knew where her question was going. "Only three men were found at the scene according to the messenger--"

"Bring him to me, now!" Ranna demanded as she spun toward her dressing room.

Mia had already anticipated Ranna's next move and was already at the closet. By the time William had retrieved the young rider and brought him to her antechamber, Ranna was dressed … for riding. She ordered William to prepare her entire Bodyguard and to request more men from her grandmother's Castle Guard. She questioned the young man -- who was filthy and exhausted -- only to learn very little more: three dead men in uniforms, their weapons and coin purses stolen; the coach pilfered of most of its valuables; the horses held in the stables pending retrieval by the owners, and more expected information.

But … no word on Chloe, and no word on her lover, Walter, who had recently risen to Sergeant in the Riverbrook Guard and -- immediately -- petitioned to court the young and beautiful Chloe.

Ranna had been walking quickly through the castle even as she'd interrogated the quickly following man. They exited through the open castle doors to a black night now illuminated by a dozen fiery torches. Her horse was waiting for her, as were the 6 on-duty members of her 16 member personal Bodyguard, expanded after the most recent assassination attempt. There were also half a dozen Riverbrook Castle Guardsmen and more arriving every moment or so.

William began to explain about the off-duty men, "The rest of the Bodyguard will be ready in--"

"We can't wait!" Ranna insisted, slinging herself up into her saddle without the need of its stirrups. "Send them when they are ready."

"I will have another 8 more men ready in ten minutes, my Grace," reported the Captain of the Riverbrook Guard, who apologized for being in only his tunic and underpants. "I will lead them myself--"

"No!" Ranna countered. "Your duty is to the Countess! Protect her, and protect this house! Send your men when they are ready! I can't wait!"

She looked to the young rider, then to the Guard Captain. "See to this man's needs. Treat him as well as you would treat me."

"I wish to come with you!" the rider said anxiously. He stepped closer, almost begging, "Please, my Grace! Let me come. I know the road! I can--"

"You are exhausted," Ranna pointed out. But the young man insisted he could ride. She thought it a poor idea, but commanded, "Get this man a horse!"

The Guard Captain handed over the reins of his own horse and slapped the rider on the back, causing a cloud of dust to fill the torch lit air around him. "What's your name, young man?"

"Keno, my Lord," the rider said.

"When this is over, you return here, Keno," the Captain ordered. "I will have a job waiting here for you. Now, ride!"

Keno beamed as the offer, thanked the Captain, looked to the Princess for a nod, and kicked his heels into the horse's side. In less than a minute, the string of fiery torches disappeared to the west down the Riverbrook-Weston road.

County of Warrick
Western Barony of Parse
The Breck Farm
Late Morning:

"I was afraid my papa would make you leave. I … I don't want you to … to go away."

Walton didn't know what to say. Camilla's sincerity, the hope and earnestness in her voice, nearly broke his heart. Such a sweet girl, stuck out in a remote place, probably without a decent prospect for marriage. Maybe he was reading too much into it, but he doubted it. He felt a pang of guilt that he and others who lived around the castle, or in the larger towns, had an easier time finding companionship and yet managed to take it for granted or lament not finding the perfect one.

He'd found his Chloe, of course, but... Why had she settled for him? Yes, they were enthusiastically in love, but she could have married a young Lord, someone with a title and prospects. Would she come to regret her choice?

Walton looked up and Camilla and reached out to take her hand. He smiled. "Well, I certainly won't be going anywhere any time soon. I don't even really know where here is, except for being in a barn with lovely company."


Not too far away...

Gauld had finally reached the end of the tracks, having tied his horse back in a clearing in the woods before risking the more open fields of this isolated farming valley. Mid-morning had dozens of farmers working their fields, diligently harvesting the fall bounty before the first frosts set in. He didn't want to be seen by any, so he'd had to move carefully between shrubs and hedgerows and stands of trees.

Finding Nalla had been easy - she was leaving the farm just as he'd found it. Presumably called to help with an injury or the sick, but why in a barn. That little mystery could wait for later. Instead, he'd waited for the woman to pass his hiding spot and then began following her from a good distance. Like a ghost.

She returned to the woods by the same path she'd left. He expected she would simply be returning home, but instead she veered off the path and began searching. Collecting herbs? He watched, silent and wary. He should approach now, he knew, with time passing and Kitts' condition likely worsening, but he was terrified of talking to her.

When she happened upon the small clearing where he'd tied up his horse, however, Gauld had no choice but to move in. He followed her and waited at the edge of the clearing. Nalla was clearly curious as to who the horse belonged to, petting it and whispering soft words. She startled when finally noticing him and he looked down hurriedly.

"Gauld, is it?" she asked. She didn't sound angry, but neither did she sound pleased to see him. Gauld was simply stunned she knew who he was.

He nodded yes.

"Were you following me?"

He nodded again.

"Why?

Gauld still couldn't look her in the eye. He opened his mouth to talk, but no words came. He tried, desperately, to speak, but it was like speaking underwater - an impossible pressure blocking him.

"It's okay," she said, softening her voice as she stepped carefully closer. "Just tell me."

"I...I...I..." The words almost came, but it was more sound than words. Catching in his throat.

"Something with your band?"

He shook his head vigorously. "Y..Y...Yes." Finally, a word, though he felt more humiliated at it being the only one he could force out. What a idiot, she must thing him.

"Someone's sick or injured?"

He nodded again. "K...K...Kiii…"

Nalla took an abrupt step closer. "Kitts?"

"Hurt," Gauld managed to get out with no stutter.

"Bad?"

"V...V...V...very."

She sighed and Gauld chanced a look up. Nalla looked conflicted, casting a glance back in the direction of the farms. Her expression softened when she realized he was looking at her.

"We'd better hurry, then," she said. "You okay riding double?"

Gauld's eyes might have popped from his head. He'd never done that before. He'd never sat that close to a woman before. But for Kitts...

He nodded.

County of Warrick
Western Barony of Parse
Near the Breck Farm
Late morning:

"I was afraid my papa would make you leave. I … I don't want you to … to go away."

Camilla realized that her fingers were trembling. Confessing to Walton to the reason she was keeping him hid out here in the barn had been the hardest thing she'd ever done. Her … social skills weren't exactly the best in the world, particularly when it came to men. Of the half dozen Highwaymen who had come to the Breck Farm over the years to assist the poor family, she had only ever spoken to one of them, a beautiful man named Kitts with whom she hadn't been able to maintain eye contact for more than a very brief instance.

How terrifying would it have been for her to find out that the man before her had been attacked and nearly killed by that very same man?

Walton reached out to take Camilla's hand, and she almost pulled it away in reflex. But she didn't, and she was glad for it; it felt incredible to be touched by him, and her already pounding heart leaped in her heart at the interaction.

"Well, I certainly won't be going anywhere any time soon" Walton told her. "I don't even really know where here is, except for being in a barn with lovely company."

Camilla beamed with delight, not truly understanding that Walton was simply being logical. To her, it was nearly the same as telling her I love you, and I'm never going to leave your side … lovely Camilla. She reached her other hand out and grasped his, too.

"I'm so happy to hear that!" she said, flushing for the thousandth time. She squeezed his hands and told him, "I have to go, though! Papa will wonder where I am if he doesn't see me doing chores. But...!"

Camilla leaned in quickly and kissed Walton on the cheek again, then hovered her face close to his for a moment as she promised, "I'll be back."

She squeezed his hands once more, stood, and hurried away. Her giggles could likely be heard all the way to the other end of the barn.


Not too far away...
An hour later:

Nalla froze at the edge of the clearing when she saw the saddled horse tied to a branch. She typically walked with the graze and silence of a deer, so the horse hadn't yet heard her. Had its owner? She stood in place for the longest time, her head barely moving while her eyes scanned right and left.

Then she heard a sound that may have been the man … behind her. Nalla contemplated turning to view him but didn't; he was a good distance off, perhaps 50 yards, maybe more. Instead, she crept out of the trees and approached the horse, which was now fully aware of her presence. She petted it, and in doing so snuck a glance back the way she'd come to see the man creeping through the foliage.

Nalla pretended to have been startled, and after a moment asked, "Gauld, is it?"

He nodded yes, and she asked, "Were you following me?"

He nodded again, to which Nalla continued, "Why?

Gauld had only barely glanced her way and couldn't hold his gaze upon her own eyes. Nalla wasn't at all surprised by his hesitation. After all, most of those who knew of her thought she was a witch, a belief that Nalla was fine with being perpetuated. Had she known that he'd once sat hidden in the foliage on the bank of the river in which she'd been bathing, Nalla might have thought it was shame.

On that occasion, Cable -- who liked to think of himself as Nalla's apprentice -- had told her of the Highwayman ogling her, naked in the cool water and later drying under the sun that had been so bright and warm that summer day. Nalla hadn't asked Cable for a description of the man. If she had, she would have concluded that it was the man she'd thought it to be … her brother, Kitts.

Nalla told Gauld, "It's okay. Just tell me."

When he was finally able to get out the news, Nalla found her heart beating a bit faster with panic. She hid the rising emotion, though, saying with the same calm tone, "We'd better hurry, then. You okay riding double?"

Gauld looked surprised, and -- again -- Nalla wasn't surprised. After all, who wanted to be that close to a witch? But he nodded and moved cautiously to his horse. He offered to help her up first, to the front of the saddle. Nalla told him, "I'll ride on back."

Once he was mounted, Nalla grasped Gauld's hand and put a foot in the stirrup. She grasped the lower hem of her dress, with hadn't been made for riding but for walking. She pulled it up nearly to her crotch, revealing long, bare legs. She didn't shave her body in any way, but the scarcity of hair and its thinness may have given the impression that she did had Gauld's eyes been looking down at that moment. Together, they pulled Nalla up onto the horse's back, where she grasped both arms around the man's waist and pulled herself hard up against him with a sense of familiarity he likely hadn't expected.

"Ride back the way we came, to the farm," she told him. I have something that must be done before I leave with you."

The ride through what was essentially a deer trail wasn't the easiest, with it's low hanging branches and narrowness when the trees closed in on them. It was slow going, but so had been Nalla's walk through the forest gathering herbs, mushrooms, and other needs. And all the way, Nalla's arms remained tight around Gauld's waist, her open hands with splayed fingers pressed against his belly between button and rib cage.

They eventually reached the edge of the Breck Farm, where Nalla told him, "Remain here … unless I wave you to follow."

She took Gauld's arm to dismount, then looked up into his face as she said with just a hint of accusation, "I am treating a soldier of the Riverbrook Guard. He had a crossbow bolt in his side."

Nalla wanted to ask You and Trett wouldn't know anything about that, would you? But she kept the question to herself; the answer was plainly clear in the Highwayman's reaction. She repeated before turning to the farm, "Wait here."

County of Warrick
Western Barony of Parse
Near the Breck Farm
Late morning:

Walton laid there in a daze. Camilla's enthusiasm was sweetly infectious. Her kiss, even on his cheek, searingly intense and full of promise.

He recognized his own response to her. It was very similar to how he'd fallen for Chloe. But how could that be? Chloe was his one true love. He'd been certain of that. Was he being tested? Tempted?

Turning her away seemed needlessly cruel and likely dangerous, since he was utterly dependent upon her. There was no telling how her father might respond to his presence in the barn. And, to be honest, he didn't want to push her away. He could fall into those eyes every day, again and again.

Dammit! The ambush and loss of Chloe had only been the beginning of his problems.

The pain in his side had begun to intensify again. When was that...woman...coming back? He didn't want to call Nalla a witch, though she did her best to convey that impression. She had, seemingly, saved his life. She'd said she was coming back, right?


Breck Farm yard
Soon thereafter:

Gauld was appalled when Nalla insisted they go back to the farms, especially on horseback which would make hiding nearly impossible. He did his best to stay hunched over and hide his face. Few here would likely know him or recognize him as the Count's old hunt master, but he couldn't afford a single one to make him.

Nalla bade him to wait, then upon dismounting mentioned that she was treating a wounded soldier. Gauld blanched, realizing just who it had to be, but said nothing. He'd been bothered by Kitts' compassion in sparing the man's life. It was too great a risk, wounded or not. Nalla would have to be able to link this man to their robbery and kidnapping. Would she pass along that information and finally turn them in? He didn't think so, but how could he hope to understand how others thought?

He did his best to keep his horse inconspicuously behind some trees and within sight of the barn. It wasn't near enough cover, but the few others he could see in the distance seemed preoccupied with digging in the fields and doing laundry and other chores. It took every shred of will not to flee as he watched Nalla hesitate and the slip into the barn.


The Cooked Goose Inn
The City of Pratt
-noonish-

Baran bade Freeda good luck with whatever she had planned for the day. Hitting up her contacts, no doubt. Baran wished he could do the same, but he didn't know where most of the people he still knew in town would stand in the tension between the Pratt Barons. Most, no doubt, would be highly opposed to his alliance with Princess Ranna, even those who personally liked the woman. That left him with little to do but lay low and run through every possible scenario that could happen tonight when they went for Jardin.

He finished his lunch and went back upstairs. As the lovebirds hadn't made it down to join them, he brought a sizable platter of food up for them. Call it a going away and early wedding gift.

It was quiet for a change. He tapped lightly and heard soft shuffling, followed by the door unlatching.

Caitrin poked her head around the door and her eyes brightened when she saw both him and the food. "Baran! Come in!"

She half dragged him in while taking the plate and shoving a wedge of cheese in her mouth. Baran was amused to find her naked and looking utterly fucked and pleased with herself. Leo was passed out on their bed, similarly naked and bare ass to the ceiling.

"So, you're doing okay, then?" he asked softly.

She looked a little sheepish. "I know it's crazy, but... Rollen would have wanted it like this, wouldn't he?"

Baran wasn't entirely sure about that, but he figured it was better to have her happy than lost in mourning so he nodded in agreement.

"You and Freeda off to take care of that fellow?" Caitrin had moved on to an apple, the juices dripping down her cheeks and onto her breasts.

"Tonight, probably," Baran said, unable to resist watching the drips.

"Then you're not busy right now?" She followed his gaze and stepped forward, close enough he could reach out if he wished.

"I can find something to do." He swallowed hard. "I'm sure you and Leo-"

"He won't mind," she said. "And if we wake him, then he's welcome to join. I'd hate to leave without saying a proper goodbye."

Baran had always had trouble saying no to pretty girls and long goodbyes.

Breck Farm
County of Warrick
Barony of Parse

Noonish:

Sneaking unseen up to the back of the Breck Farm's barn, Nalla found Papa Breck working in the turnip patch and Mama hanging wet laundry over a framework her husband had built out of poles and limbs. Each time she came here she reminded herself that she didn't know the given names of Camilla's parents; each time when left, she either forgot to ask those names or simply decided not to do so. Papa and Mama were all Camilla had ever called them, so … it worked.

When the Brecks' only child glanced up from her work stacking firewood for the upcoming winter, Nalla let herself be seen before heading into the barn. Camilla would come when she could, the healer knew.

In the tack room, Nalla found the Guardsman asleep once more. The morning had become unseasonably warm; Walton laid in his makeshift straw bed with the blanket pulled down, exposing the wound in his side … and the well built torso about it. Walton wasn't the sculptured God-like figure that some men Nalla had known were; he had a layer of winter fat that showed he lived in better circumstances than most of the Peasantry. But below that layer were the muscles of a man who could handle a heavy sword with ease … or break a young thing like Camilla with little effort.

Nalla hated the idea of leaving the farm girl alone with this man … with any man. But she also knew that to expose Walton's presence would not go over well with Papa Breck. Most likely, Papa would find a sharp farm implement with which he would make the crossbow bolt injury look like a bee sting. Or worse, having been aided on occasion by the Highwaymen of the Wailing Woods, Papa Breck might inform the forest dwellers of his presence and let Kitts deal with Walton in his own way.

She preferred to take him from this place. But who was going to help her do that? Gauld? In the end, when Camilla suddenly rushed into the tack room -- her haste waking Walton from his nap -- Nalla told them both, "I have to leave … go somewhere. Someone for whom I care is … sick. I must attend him."

Camilla began to argue that the healer couldn't leave now, but Nalla cut her off and began giving her directions on how to process and apply the variety of natural wonders she'd gotten from the forest. Camilla confirmed that she understood, made one more pitch to keep Nalla here and failed, then walked with the Healer out to the back of the barn.

"You cannot let your father know this man is here, Cami," Nalla warned. She ran her through the same scenarios she herself had contemplated, reviewed the treatment plan again, then took the nervous girl into her arms for a loving hug. "When he can stand, take him to the woods. And when he can walk further, take him to the road. Someone will find him and take him back--"

"What?" Camilla cut in, pulling back to look Nalla in the eyes. "Take him back? Who will? Where?"

Nalla shook her head, smiled, and laughed. "Cami, he's not a wild bunny you found in the field … that you can keep and raise as a pet. He's a Guardsman with the House of Riverbrook … a soldier in the pay of the Countess Pollania. He must go back."

Camilla lowered her gaze, her hands trembling again as the Healer continued to talk to her of the difference between reality and fantasy. She finally said bluntly, though in a soft voice as to not hurt the girl, "If you get too close to this man, you will find yourself hurt. He is leaving, Cami. He is leaving. One way or the other, you will lose him. And you will be hurt. Limit your hurt, Cami. Do not get any closer to Walton that you already are."

Nalla hugged the girl again, then turned and headed for the woods and the rider and horse she hoped were still there waiting for her.

Behind her, Camilla looked for her parents, found them still busy with their work, and returned to the tack room. She stood over Walton for a long moment, recounting some of the treatment she was to administer. She excused herself for a moment, and when she returned she was carrying a bucket of water that had been warming in the sun behind the barn.

"Do you need to clean up, sire?" she asked with an innocent tone. She pulled a pair of rags from within her simple dress, adding, "I can help you … if you need."

(OOC: If you ever see (def.) in a line, it means that I have added a word to the Encyclopedia. Assuming I remember to add the link, clicking on def. will take you to the Encyclopedia.)



The Cooked Goose Inn
The City of Pratt

Noonish:

Caitrin had worn poor Leo out!

The young man who'd been a virgin until just the day before had done his best to fully satisfy the woman a couple of years older and far more experienced than he. But he simply hadn't been up for the job.

And then Caitrin's savior arrived, and with a badly needed platter of food and a pitcher of Morning Wine def. at that. Despite being naked, Caitrin opened the door as she backed away, grasping the platter and demanding with joy, "Baran! Come in!"

"So, you're doing okay, then?" Baran asked softly.

She looked a little sheepish. Caitrin was beginning to fear that she was becoming a shameless slut. She'd been a loyal and faithful wife for months, though, not particularly content in bed; she'd willingly allowed her husband to share her -- Brothers' Prerogative def. and all -- with his old Army buddy, who had been responsible for the greatest orgasms of her life to date; she'd then begun fucking said buddy, Baran, without the need of her husband's presence; she'd fucked the younger brother of her oldest friend simply because he'd been an Innocent and she wanted to know what it was like to claim a man's chastity; and then, just hours after her husband was accidental murdered by his old friend, she'd dealt with her sorrow and loss by riding the former-virgin's cock for hours and accepted his offer marriage … despite her deceased husband's body not yet even being cold!

And now she was trembling with anticipation of once again feeling Baran's beautiful cock pummeling her.

"I know it's crazy, but..." Caitrin said, not entirely sure whether or not it was true, "Rollen would have wanted it like this, wouldn't he?"

She could see in Baran face that he wasn't entirely sure about that, either. They chatted about the mission in which Baran and Freeda were still involved, and all the while Caitrin was peeking glances at the man's groin. One side of her brain was screaming out for more ecstasy, while the other half was reminding her that her future husband -- a Count! -- was laying in the bed just out of reach.

But the yearning won out, and she stepped up close to Baran, asking, "Then you're not busy right now?"

Caitrin pressed up against Baran, stood on her toes, and kissed him passionately as her hand snaked down into his trousers to search for his cock. She was surprised at how fast it hardened, considering the circumstances. She was ready to do him right here, right now. But instead, she pulled her hand out quickly, grasped his own hand, and headed for the door, asking, "You and Freeda still have a room, yes?"

Next door, the young woman put Baran in charge of driving her to climax once again; she might not have been sated yet, but Caitrin was suffering from exhaustion at having been the one doing most of the work in the other room with Leo. The Pratt warrior drove her to three very satisfying orgasms in three different positions before she finally collapsed to the mattress and told him with laughter, "Enough!"

They lay there in one another's arms for a long while, the sweat of their bodies mixing and lubing the caring caresses of hands over each other's flesh. After some time of silence, after their hearts and breathing had returned to normal, Caitrin turned to face Baran and rolled up into his arms, telling him just to hold her. Another long moment of silence passed as Caitrin contemplated her future.

"Leo has asked me to be his wife," she said, finally breaking the silence. "He is going to be a Count … and I am going to be a Countess."

She giggled and began toying a finger about one of the nipples of Baran's muscular chest. She continued, "I could never have dreamed of such a thing as a little girl. I can't hardly believe it now."

The Highwaymen's Hideout
Wailing Woods
On the frontier of the Parse and Weston Baronies:

After Dark:

"How is he?"

Chloe started at the unexpected, whispered voice. She turned her head to find Granny standing in the cave's entrance. The older woman neared, carrying a bowl of warmed broth. When Chloe said she didn't think Kitts could eat it, Granny smiled, patted the Lady In Waiting on the shoulder, and said, "This is for you, dear. You haven't eaten all day."

"Thank you," Chloe said, taking the bowl but then letting it just rest in her lap. She looked back to Kitts and finally answered the older woman's question, "He still has a fever. I can't get him to take any water. I'm afraid he'll--"

She couldn't speak the words. Despite being Kitts' hostage, she cared about the man. She shouldn't, of course. If Kitts were to die here this night, the Highwaymen might decide that the kidnapping had been ill-advised and simply let Chloe go. Of course, they might also take her out into the woods and feed her to the Banshee.

The Banshee...? Chloe thought to herself as she turned to look out into the darkness of the Wailing Woods. She hadn't noticed it until this moment, but the creature that made those horrible sounds has been quiet tonight. Maybe it was still too early? Or, maybe, it knew Kitts was on death's door? Was it sympathetic to the man's fate? Did it feel for a fellow woodland creature? Or, maybe it was waiting for them to take Kitts' dead body out for burial … so that it could then dig him up and devour his flesh and bones.

A chill ran up Chloe's spine as she told herself that she needed to ask someone what the hell the Banshee was. But she hadn't been able to get the question out of her mouth. She wasn't sure she wanted to know what it was.

"He won't die," Granny said, bringing Chloe out of her reverie. "Nalla will be here soon, and she will know what to do."

"Nalla, she's an Alchemist?" Chloe asked.

"A healer," Granny corrected.

When Chloe asked more about her, Granny was mysteriously quiet. Chloe asked with a touch of concern and suspicion both, "How do you know this healer? Who is she to you?"

Granny was quiet for a long moment, and when she spoke she only said, "She is a healer."

Chloe wanted to know more, but it was obvious that Granny didn't want to say more. After a moment, Chloe chuckled softly, then asked, "What is your name? They all call you Granny, but … you can't be everyone's grandmother, can you?"

Granny smiled, contemplated, then looked to Chloe with a smile. With sincerity in her voice, she answered, "You know … I'm not sure. I have been called Granny for so long … since long before living here in the Woods … so long that … that I forget."

They shared a smile, then a chuckle, before Granny returned to what she was doing and Chloe did the same … which was sitting with Kitts and praying to the Gods that he didn't die."

Warrick House
Warrick County
On the border of the Parse and Weston Baronies.

Midnight:

Zelia looked to her sleeping lover, then slipped out of his bed with little concern about waking him. Count Warrick was in what Zee liked to call his Death Sleep; sated by heavy food, strong wine, and a badly needed orgasm, the man was as good as dead to the world. His internal clock would wake him in time to catch the rising of the sun over his vast wheat fields to the east, a feat that had always amazed Zee as his ability to awake before dawn had never been governed by when they'd actually fallen asleep.

She wrapped herself in a long robe made of expensive, semi-sheer cloth that showed off her curves and chill-excited nipples and made her way from the massive bed chamber into a secret passageway. She stopped at a peep hole through which she could see the Count's guest and one of his two female companions. With a fire recently fed and stoked by a servant blazing in the background, the pair seemed comfortable and content with a bedding pushed down to their waists. The naked non-Noble Lord spooned the equally naked slave girl, an arm around her waist, its hand in her bosom where her own upper arm held it tightly against her.

Although Olean had politely stressed to Zee earlier in the evening that she was a Free Servant (def.) and not an indentured servant or even a slave, Zee had noticed Olean's toe tattoos when she'd brought the guests food and drink. Zee had never known a Hoshian to be lifted out of slavery, ever. In most Sovereign States, a Hoshian found to be living as a free individual was typically executed or enslaved. The likelihood that this Olean was any different was very small.

Zee didn't care about the woman's status as slave, servant, or Free Peasant. She was only concerned with Olean's loyalties. If Zee were to ask the Hoshian to share some of her knowledge about Lord Trett's recent activities, would that result in cooperation from the younger woman or Zee's own confinement in the Keep's small and dingy dungeon while her own loyalties were questioned.

No, it was best for Zee to be cautious in her dealings with these unfamiliar people. Oh, she would casually ask questions, of course, and listen to not just the words but to the tones and emotions behind them. But she wouldn't do anything that might arouse suspicion. She hadn't lived to be a spy at the ripe old age of 28 by taking chances.

She made her way down the secret passageway to the second guest room. She expected to find Lord Trett's younger play thing in bed but instead found young Anya sitting in a chair near the fire. She was wrapped in a blanket and simply staring into the flames.

Zee felt for the girl; Olean hadn't shared the details of what had happened earlier in the day, but Zee had been able to figure it out. Rape was not an unknown tragedy to Zee, as it wasn't to many women of the lower classes. Returning to the Count's bed chamber to don a more appropriate robe, Zee made her way to Anya's guest room, knocked lightly, and entered without awaiting a response.

"I thought you might be awake," Zee said, as if not already knowing. She carried with her a platter on which were two small cups and a small pitcher of hot, herbal tea that she explained would help Anya sleep. She sat with her in silence for a long moment before finally asking with a soft voice, "Anya, why are you here?"

After contemplating her answer, Anya answered tentatively, "Lord Trett purchased me from my Lady, Countess Polla--"

"That's not true, Anya," Zee cut in. When the younger woman only stared at her in nervous silence, Zee confessed, "I know who you are, Anya."

When Zee didn't continue, an increasingly nervous Anya -- with her gaze to her trembling hands -- repeated her cover story, "I am servant in bondage to my Lord Trett, having been legally purchased from my Lady Pollania, Countess of--"

"You are Anya, second daughter of Rowan of Urindale," Zee interrupted, continuing unabated with, "a Landed Peasant, with property and grazing rights near the frontier with the Highlands."

Anya's gaze remained on her twiddling fingers as she asked in barely a whisper, "How do you know this? I don't know you … with respect, Miss."

Zee told a story of how she had been traveling with Count Warrick near Urindale when Anya's father ran his flock across the road before the Nobleman's coach. Rowan had entertained the frustrated Noble with a song.

"Yes, my father loved to sing," Anya mused. She looked up to Zee and asked, "You saw me … but … why didn't I see you?"

Zee laughed, admitting, "When the coach stopped for your father's flock, I was … busy."

Anya's face showed her lack of understanding, and Zee added with a wide smile, "On my knees … between my Lord's knees. I saw you through a gap in the coach's door frame."

The younger woman blushed brightly as she diverted her eyes and laughed. Zee leaned in and raised Anya's chin to look into her eyes. "You are a very beautiful young woman, Anya. Few people who have the good fortune of meeting you ... will easily forget you, Anya."

"But you only saw me for--" Anya began, not getting any farther.

"I just happen to be very good with faces and names," Zee told her. "You were just a little twig of a girl then, not the shapely beauty you are now. But I would have recognized you anywhere. Which leads us back to my question … why are you here?"

When Anya only looked down again, Zee pointed out the obvious, "You aren't a slave. You weren't sold to Lord Trett. Were you even raped?"

"No!" Anya said quickly, ashamed despite the fact that she hadn't done anything wrong at the stream's edge.

"No one attacked you this morning," Zee said, misunderstanding.

"Yes, a man attacked me, but..." Anya corrected, beginning to feel the emotion rising. "But no. He didn't rape me. Lord Trett saved me. You can ask Olean."

"I believe you, Anya," Zee said, trying to comfort her with a pat to her thighs. "I believe you about that. It's just … it's just all the rest of it that I find … odd."

Anya stared at her hands for a while, then at the fire. She couldn't believe that for the second time in as many days, she -- the great spy -- had been found out. How was she ever going to complete her mission of spying on Lord Trett and Lady Victoria?

Maybe … maybe if she could bluff Zee by swearing to being exactly what she claimed to be. Anya drew a deep breath, steadied her nerves, and launched into her tale of woe, as she had with Trett the day before. She got about a minute into it … when Zee started laughing.

"Oh, girl," the older woman said, still laughing. "I hope you're better at fucking than you are at lying."

Anya's eyes glazed over, a moment later the tears began running down her cheek. Zee moved closer and again tried comforting the poor girl. They chatted for almost an hour, with Anya spilling the beans about it all … well, all but the Burkinian angle. That was one thing about which Anya was would never speak.

"Your secret is safe with me, Anya," Zee said when the conversation seemed at an end. She hadn't needed to say it; the tone of the conversation had seemed to reassure Anya that her tale wouldn't be shared. But Zee was a spy as well, just not for a Noble or Royal. She told Anya in a soft but suggestive tone, "And I will help you, too. We can work together. You just tell me what you hear and see … and I'll do the same."

Anya looked up, a hopeful expression in her eyes. "Really? You would help me?"

"Of course, I will, honey," Zee told her, dropping to her knees right before Anya. She caressed the young woman's cheek and said with a big smile, "We girls … we have to stick together … right?"

Anya leaned forward and gave the older woman a hug. They stoked the fire and tossed another log on, and for another hour or so, they talked about how they could work together. Zee also taught the young, inexperienced spy some lessons on how to hide her identity and mission better. By the time they were done, Anya was feeling more confident in herself.

Zee had friends, she called them, who traveled between Riverbrook and the City of Weston often. "We can keep in touch via these people. And I'll come visit you sometimes, in the City. We'll become good friends."

Anya was happy to hear this. She could use a friend, particularly a good one with whom she could speak about things she couldn't discuss with anyone else. When Zee saw the girl's eyes getting heavy, she led her to her bed, tucked her in, kissed her forehead, telling her, "Go to sleep. I'm going to put a Guardsman at your door with orders to let you sleep in."

The young infiltrator closed her eyes and, in no time, was sound asleep. Feeling confident and unafraid, she slept through the night without the nightmares that she'd been fearing would come in the night.

Zee made her way through the secret passageway to peek in on their guest couple again. The pair had shifted their position -- Trett on his back now with Olean in his arms -- and pulled the bedding up over them as the temperature dropped with the lowering flames of the fire. Zee returned to the antechamber of Warrick's bed chamber, wrote a note at his desk, then returned to the passage. At a tiny window that looked out upon the Guardsman House, she lit a candle and waited. A few minutes later, a candle filled the window of the Guardsman House. After a moment, she extinguished her candle and the man down below did the same.

At the front entrance of the Keep, Zee distributed sweet treats and a bottle of Morning Wine to the two members of the Night Watch. In the light of a pair of overhead torches, she let them ogle her delicious curves as they chatted. Soon, a Guardsman arrived from across the bridge, joining in on the conversation. Zee stepped closer to him, offering him the last pastry … under which was her note.

"Night, boys," she told them with a flirty tone. She turned and headed back inside, knowing they would be watching how her ass swung to and fro in her bathrobe. She turned and gave them a profile view of her curves as she told them with a wink, "I sleep a lot better knowing you strong men are all here protecting me."

The Guardsman to whom she'd passed the note returned to the Guards House, read the name on the outside of the note, and -- when his shift was over -- took a ride to the village to pass it onto one of Zee's friends, who would take it to Kitts.

(OOC: For those following our story, WatchingCloud and I have begun a second thread you can read as well. It begins >1000 years before this thread, with the beginning of the Burkinian Empire. You can find it here.)

Breck Farm
County of Warrick
Barony of Parse

Early afternoon:

Walton was aware of Nalla's return, though after giving him a quick check she and Camilla retreated to a distant part of the barn and he couldn't make out anything said save for a stray word or two out of context. He suspected they were discussing what to do about him. It should have interested him, but he was woozy and still in desperately need of rest.

Camilla poked her head in and promised to return shortly. When she did, the young woman carried with her a bucket of water and produced a pair of rags from within her dress.

"Do you need to clean up, sire? I can help you … if you need." She sounded so sweet, so innocent. Underneath it all, however, there was a hint of hope and eagerness.

Walton did feel in need of cleaning. While it would be improper of him to let her help, he didn't trust himself to sit steadily, let alone stand. What harm could come of it?

"Thank you," he said. "Washing up does sound nice. Perhaps you can help me sit?"

Camilla knelt beside him, pulled the blanket down to his waist, and gently helped lift him upright. To his dismay, she did more of the lifting than he did. The pain from the would shot through his side, yet he wasn't at risk of blacking out. That was good.

He didn't even try to reach for the bucket. Camilla was quick to soak a rag and begin washing his neck and shoulders. She was tentative at first, but as he relaxed she gained confidence. Just the touch of a woman's fingers on his bare skin was a welcome pleasure after what he'd been through. It should have been Chloe, but...

Camilla squeezed water from the rag and the cool water ran down his chest and stomach, dampening the top of his underpants. Her eyes widened and she quickly apologized. He brushed it off as nothing, but his body had an entirely different take. How could he so easily become aroused around this woman when he was in such rough shape?

She asked if he wanted her to wash his head.

"Yes, please," he said, hoping it would distract both of them from his conspicuously growing problem. It didn't, though it did feel nice to have his face washed and hair rinsed.

"Do you wish to wash the, uh, rest, sire?" she asked, glancing back down.

Walton was stunned she was asking and equally surprised with himself that he was considering it, however inappropriate.

She must have sensed his change in demeanor, as she quickly clarified. "I meant, I can help you up, so you can wash. If you wish."

Camilla was blushing as she said it, probably much as he would have if he wasn't a bit shaky. Having sat up for a bit, he was willing to try standing and accepted her help.

Together, with a bit of wincing, they got him to a standing position. He steadied himself between her and the wall until his head cleared. Standing, his erection poked even more prominently within his underpants. Camilla noted it and turned her back to him after handing over a freshly rinsed rag.

Walton smiled and pushed his pants down, half turning away from her. He washed himself as best he could without bending far over. Each movement was painful, but at least he was feeling more human for the effort. Standing, too, might lead to walking before long.

In the meantime, he washed. No amount of cold water seemed capable of quenching his state of arousal, though, and he became increasingly aware that he couldn't bend over enough to pull his own underpants back up.

The Cooked Goose Inn
The City of Pratt

Noonish:

Baran was startled almost to being disturbed by Caitrin's insatiable sexual appetite in the wake of hey husband's death. He couldn't complain about the results, however. She'd certainly taken his mind off darker deeds to come. He liked to think Rollen would have approved.

He laid there, happy for her and what she'd apparently found in Leo - a good, safe man with whom she could secure a future.

Breck Farm
County of Warrick
Barony of Parse

Early afternoon:

Camilla smiled in delight at Walton's acceptance of her offer to help him bathe. She shouldn't have been so tickled, obviously. Hell, she shouldn't have offered to begin with! Her boldness and her loneliness for company -- and her lust, though, she didn't quite understand it entirely -- were taking her places she really shouldn't be going.

Regardless, she quickly had Walton sitting atop a milking stool and was gently caressing the wet rag over his beautiful body. Camilla was careful not to let her hands touch Walton's bare flesh. Just the rag. She knew that this was all so very wrong, and subconsciously her mind was trying to protect her from things her body wanted to do.

Wrong or not, Camilla enjoyed every moment and. And created more of those moments by taking her damn time in getting the job done. Often, she found herself cleaning the same place twice, even thrice. She rinsed the rag often, and every time she did, she glanced to his face -- sometimes meeting his eyes, sometimes not -- and … took a glance toward his groin.

His manhood was hard again, tenting his lap. I'm pretty. He thinks I'm pretty and he likes me, she told herself, recalling their earlier, short, and very inappropriate conversation following Camilla's asking Walton why it got hard. She moved to Walton's left side and cleaned his outstretched arm … and peaked at his groin. She moved to Walton's right side to clean that arm … and peaked at his groin. Finally, she moved to before him, told him to part his knees, and finished washing his chest, then his belly … and found herself just a foot from the underpants peak.

Oh, she tried to make her glances inconspicuous, but she failed. Sometimes she peaked up to Walton's eyes and caught him watching her watch it. She blushed and looked back to what ever body section she was wiping, unable to hold the eyes to eyes connection.

Standing to rinse the rag again, Camilla squeezed it over Walton's head. She giggled at his reaction to the water flowing over his eyes and nose and into his ears. She apologized and wiped away the drops around his eyes with a gentle fingertip. She blushed again, realizing it was the first time they'd touched flesh to flesh during the bathing. When Camilla suddenly reminded herself that she'd touched Walton often while treating his wound and had even seen his … well, his thing while helping him pee, she began to wonder why she was being so careful not to touch him.

When she wrung out the rag the next time and then squeezed it over his shoulder, Camilla allowed her hand to ever so gently touch his flesh. A chill ran up her spine, and she pulled her finger back. But then … she repeated the touch. She tried to make it seem part of bathing him; she picked a piece of straw from his skin, and she wiped a finger over a muscle, telling him a smudge of dirt wouldn't come off. But, it was all simply about touching Walton's manly body. And soon, Camilla was squeezing water out over his body and doing the soft washing with her hand instead.

She didn't know when it began -- at the start, at the sight of his erection, at the touch of skin-to-skin? -- but Camilla finally realized that was happening to her body at this intimacy. She was breathing deeper; her chest was swelling a bit more than normal below her simple dress. Her heart was beating noticeably faster, sometimes thumping in her ears. And there was a … something … a feeling … down between her thighs. No, higher … inside In her womanhood.

It was a feeling she'd had before, of course, particularly after Walton's arrival. But it had never been so strong before. She was hot down there … and … it almost felt as though she was … dripping? Camilla feared for a moment that she was peeing down her thigh. She moved to Walton's backside again, out of his sight, and pressed her legs to together. No, her thighs were dry, but … but she was certain that her womanhood wasn't. She didn't understand!

When she realized that she was cleaning the same parts of Walton's upper body for the third or fourth time, she asked with a shaky voice, "Do you wish to wash the, uh, rest, sire?"

He responded in the affirmative, and Camilla helped him to his feet. She looked away, offering a hand out to help him steady himself. When he needed to rinse the rag, she took it, waited for him to grasp the nearby wall of the tack room, and dunked the rag. And … she peaked! Oh, not entirely the first time; she just ensured that her movements in leaning to the bucket and back caused her body to shift a bit more his direction each time.

At an opportunity -- as Walton shifted his stance for a more comfortable position -- Camilla knew his head was turned. She turned her head to get a full look at his cock. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. It wasn't a hard as it had been while Walton had been sitting, but it was still more large than small … and glistening beneath the sheen of water, it seemed even bigger than when she'd spied it that first time.

After a moment, Camilla realized that her awe had caused her to stare at the thing. She looked up from her crouched position to find Walton looking her right in the eyes. She spun her head away quickly, her face exploding in a rush of heat as she begged, "Forgive me, sire. I … I..."

She couldn't come up with any words. She splashed the rag in the bucket, handed it back, then remained in her crouched position rather than get closer to Walton again. But it soon became obvious that he couldn't finish; leaning to clean his legs was causing him to grimace and groan in pain.

"Let me help, sire," Camilla said with a sympathetic tone, standing again. She didn't turn to face him, though; she was trying to figure out how to do this without staring right at his manhood. The dry rag hadn't yet been used, so she snatched it up and quickly tied it into a blindfold. She turned to face Walton, asked for the rag again, and told him, "Let me clean your legs."

She knew it was silly, but Camilla needed to do this, clean him and be blindfolded as well. This was all so wrong … and yet so right all at the same time. She was a bit more clumsy with rinsing the rag, but soon she got her rhythm down. She began with Walton's buttocks and the backs of his legs, then had him turn to face her. She tried as much as possible to prevent herself from touching it but the two times she did, Camilla moved her arm away immediately. Well, maybe not immediately … the second time, anyway. She could feel Walton's erection -- again stiffer and more elevated from where it had been dangling before -- and allowed it to touch her wrist for a moment too long.

Again, Camilla realized that her breathing and heart beat were more obvious. And that feeling down below...

Finally, she dunked the rag again and handed it to Walton, telling him, "You … you should clean your … your..."

She didn't finish. It was the only part of him she hadn't already cleaned, so...

She stood, half turned away, and removed the blindfold. She got another peak out of the corner of her eye at his cock, then turned more fully. And smiled with delight. I can't believe I just did that!

The Cooked Goose Inn
The City of Pratt

Noonish:

Caitrin moved a bit up Baran's body to kiss him on the mouth, telling him, "I have the greatest respect for you, sire. I have enjoyed your company … in and out of bed. You have made me happier in bed than I'd ever known possible."

Caitrin sat up tall over Baran's groin, their respective parts mashed together in a wet mess. She continued, "But I am going to marry Leo, the Count of Hollard. I simply couldn't dishonor you by not at least telling you."

Caitrin wore a serious, sincere expression, and a tear even formed in the corner of one eye as she asked, "You are not angry with me, sire?"

She listened to his response … then slid off the bed to find her clothes. Reluctantly, she told Baran, "Leo must have no reason to believe I have been with you … or, if I bear him a child in nine Moons, he will question his child's legitimacy. I must return to my room before he wakes."

Caitrin hesitated at the door before leaving, looking back to Baran and his semi-hardened love making machine. She smiled at it, then at his eyes as they took her in. "I will never forget you, Baran the Astute."

She laughed and blushed. "Rollen told me. Baran … the Astute. I like that. I like that, and I like you. And I hope to one day see you again … Lord Baran."

Her eyes were now full of tears, and hard as it was, Caitrin opened the door, walked through it, and closed it again.

Breck Farm
County of Warrick
Barony of Parse

Early afternoon:

Walton smiled when Camilla used the second rag to blindfold herself before helping to wash his legs. It was a token effort at maintaining propriety. So sweet. His erection, now freed from his underpants, wasn't doing nearly as good a job. He just hoped the girl's father wouldn't choose this time to need something from the barn.

Standing on shaky but improving legs, he watched as Camilla fumbled with the water bucket and rag. Before long, however, she got the hang of working blindfolded. She diligently scrubbed his legs and feet and butt. Though there was nothing inherently erotic about being washed, his cock kept swelling throughout the process until almost painful in its need for release. Several times she bumped into it, only making him want further contact, regardless how wrong that was. Were those incidental touches truly innocent or was she exploring a man for the first time under the pretext of washing him?

He couldn't help but imagine her touching him again, then offering to clean his cock. That, in turn, leading to her stroking him until climax. If it were Chloe, he'd beg her to give him relief right now.

"You … you should clean your … your..." Camilla rose, handing him the damp rag when there was nothing else to wash save that which needed attention the most.

She took a step away and removed the blindfold. She'd turned aside to give him some privacy, yet he got the sense she was trying to sneak peeks from the corner of her eye. He knew the proper thing would be to turn away, but he remained facing her. He washed himself thoroughly, taking his time to get around his balls before running the rag up and down his shaft. Climax was so close at hand and he was sorely tempted to finish himself off. Would she watch? Would she be offended or excited or naively curious?

At the last moment, he held off. He couldn't go that far.

"I'm done," he said, offering the rag back. He smiled when he saw her eyes fall back to his groin and linger a few moments before she took it.

She told him she'd brought a clean pair of under clothes for him to wear while she washed his...if that was okay. Walton would have preferred to lay naked under the blanket, but again her father... He agreed, and further agreed to let her help him get them on. He probably couldn't have managed on his own.

Camilla knelt before him, holding the pants for him to step through. She didn't bother with the blindfold, but did avert her eyes...mostly. She pulled them up, finessing them over his erection, and got them tied.

"Thank you, Miss Camilla," Walton said. He took her by the hand, raised it, and placed a lingering kiss on her fingers. "I hope you can forgive my...state."