"To Marry A King" (closed)

Count Compton knocked at the guest bed chamber and -- hearing permission to enter granted -- opened the door and stepped inside. His visitor, a Baron from whom he wanted a big favor, was already bathed and changed into a luxurious robe, awaiting the promised gift. Compton turned to his side as he swept an arm and said, "My Lord, may I introduce you to Lady Ronda."


The tall beauty entered slowly with short steps that almost made her appear to be floating across the floor. Halfway to the visiting noble, she stopped, tipped her head forward in respect, and curtsied. With a soft voice and slight smile she said simply, "My Lord."

The Baron crossed to stand very near Ronda, his eyes hungrily taking in every bit of her mostly nude form. He glanced past her to the also smirking Compton. He gave a simple shoo gesture, saying suggestively, "Let's allow Lady Ronda to make the introductions, shall we?"



The next morning, after she once again drove the Baron to heights of ecstasy of which few women were capable, Ronda drew him a hot bath and departed to arrange a hearty breakfast for him. When he was ready for his audience with Compton, she escorted him to the Count's private library, where they could talk without anyone listening in.

Well, anyone but Ronda, that was. She had long ago discovered a secret passageway adjacent to the library of which Compton believed only he was aware. She let several members of the staff believe she was returning to her own quarters to make up for the lost sleep, then slipped into the dark hallway to eavesdrop on what was certain to be a juicy conversation.

"...won't allow for it," she heard the Baron saying when she got into place.

"The Laws of Succession is what the King says it is," Compton was saying. "If the King wishes to change them, he can."

"He can not the Baron corrected.

Compton clarified his statement, "The King can change the Laws of Succession if the Barons approve. Unanimous approval from the Lord Chancellor and the three Barons … and approval from a majority of the 26 Counts."

"It won't happen," the Baron said, chuckling. "To get that many yea votes … well, it would simply be too expensive. The bribes in gold and land would simply be prohibitive."

"I already have assurances from two Barons and a nearly a dozen Counts," Compton said. With a confident tone, he declared, "And the Lord Chancellor will do as the King commands. With a guarantee that you will support the change, I am sure I can get a majority--"

"What's in this for you, my Lord?" the Baron cut in, adding quickly, "If you don't mind me asking. Why should you care whether Princess Ranna rises to the throne … or whether the King's bastard son does so in her place?"

Ronda pressed a hand over her mouth quickly, fearing she might reveal herself beyond the wall with a squeal of surprise. The King's bastard son...? There had long been rumors of King Elrod having children not born of his now-long-deceased Queen Consort. Every male in a position of power lived with such rumors … more often than not because they were true!

But to Ronda's knowledge -- and she'd always kept her ear to the doors and her eye to the peep holes -- no one had ever found proof of such a child coming from the King's loins.

When Ronda didn't immediately hear an answer through the little listening hole, she pressed an eye up to it instead. Compton had risen and was taking his time pouring out two glasses of wine, the good stuff, not the Morning Wine that was weak and, essentially, served for safe rehydration since the local water was sometimes questionable if not boiled first.

"If the current Laws of Succession remain in place," Compton began explaining, "Princess Ranna is the Heir Apparent. Following her would be her sisters, Lady Victoria, Lady Wanda, and Lady Kamiss."

"Yes, and after that," the Baron cut in, showing his own knowledge of the line of succession, "would be the King's brother, Vortin … the King's sister, Leeza…"

With her eye still to the hole instead of her ear, Ronda saw the Baron suddenly smile. He added, "And then, as the King's eldest nephew … you, my lord."

Ronda shifted the gaze of her single eye to Compton and he stepped to the Baron to hand out the crystal goblet full of wine. He, too, wore a devilish smile.

"If…" the Baron continued, taking his glass and sipping at its contents, "If the Laws of Succession were changed to allow for the legitimization of a male heir not born of the Queen Consort's womb … and, some how … that male in question was then unable to be crowned King upon his father's death..."

The Baron left off there, wanting Compton to fill in the rest of what they both knew to be the truth at hand. The Count finished the line, "Then I … would be the Heir Apparent … and upon the King's unfortunate death … I would be crowned King of Weston."

Ronda pulled her face back from the hole to realize suddenly that her heart was pounding wildly. What had she just heard? It was nothing short of treason. Or … was it? The two men hadn't actually said they would do anything illegal to achieve Compton's goal of one day sitting on the throne.

"And what would I get out of this arrangement?" the Baron asked pointedly. "Other than a friend on the throne, I mean."

Ronda pressed her ear to the hole again in time to hear Compton asking, "What do you want?"

"Favored trading status," the Baron stated without hesitation. "Currently, I am paying a twenty percent toll fee on the value of my goods passing through the Barony of Weston--"

"Ten percent," Compton cut in. When the Baron's expression showed his obvious disappointment, the Count clarified, "Beginning in ten years … and until then … zero."

"An additional dock in the Port of Kurniss," the Baron continued asking.

Compton responded simply, "Done."

"My son, Torrance marries your daughter, Emily, and is granted the County of Lee," the Baron said, adding, "And … you make him Lord Chancellor within ten years."

There was more hesitation before Compton responded, "My daughter if already promised. However ... I would give your son the Chancellor's post after fifteen years … if your youngest daughter … her name was what, Yanna…? If she was to come to Court to serve me."

"In your bed?" the Baron asked pointedly. Ronda didn't hear Compton's response, but she presumed he nodded or simply donned affirmative body language as the Baron negotiated, "She will need an estate, of course."

"Of course," the Count responded without hesitation. "How about the House at Red Rock?"

"I think she would like that."

There was another moment of silence and low volume discussion Ronda couldn't hear. She peaked through the hole again in time to see Compton reach his goblet out toward the Baron. When the other man didn't lift his glass as well, Ronda knew he was going to ask for more. She quickly put her ear to the hole again, and just in time.

Compton answered a question Ronda didn't hear with, "I hope you will enjoy her in the future as much as you enjoyed her last evening."

Ronda's eyes widened, and again she had to clamp a hand over her mouth as she realized that her Master was giving her to the Baron. He didn't have that right! She was no slave! But, Ronda knew she couldn't deny Compton's demand. To do so would see her thrown to his troops as a play thing, then to one of the many local brothels, where each of her three holes would be worked until they no longer interested anyone enough to part coin for them.

She heard a clink of goblets meeting, then heard the Baron ask, "Will you be able to get to this bastard when the time comes?"

"Yes, of course," Compton responded. The Count told the Baron the name of the Estate on which the King's son was living, described the security, and more. The two discussed how the young man lived and how he could potentially be killed without putting suspicion on Compton himself. The Count finally ended the conversation with, "Lunch should be ready on the veranda. Shall we?"

Now with her eyes glistening with tears, Ronda rushed away out of the secret passage to her quarters. She flopped down on her bed in disbelief that her Master would do this to her. She laid there for an hour trying to figure out how to respond to this outrage.

Suddenly, Ronda sat up, her face willed with sudden realization. She wasn't about to be traded between Nobles for her sexual service like some plow mare. She had only one option, of course: she had to find the King's bastard son … befriend him … seduce him, becoming his consort or even his wife … and all along the way, she had to make sure he wasn't assassinated.

Simple … right?

A small fishing vessel hugging the coast

Some months later...


Purdy considered the young woman who'd paid him for passage to Raven's Reach, otherwise known as the zit on the ass end of nowhere. The village was almost inaccessible by land, had little of value save timber and rock, and no one went there for business or pleasure. Trade vessels might visit a couple times a year, but only by the desperate. He knew the area only because he fished off the coast occasionally when the rock fish were passing through the rough waters.

He hadn't nosed into her business, but curiosity was getting the better of him. Without any fishing to pass the time, he lacked any good diversion. So, he asked.

"The Pigeonhole Estate?" Purdy chuckled, a raspy wheeze from lungs that might not have more than a couple more seasons left in them. "You're looking for the lad, then. Glenn."

It wasn't a question and her eyes told him he was right. She wouldn't have been the first. She probably wouldn't be the last, either.

"Word is the boy and his mother arrived almost fifteen years ago," he said, not caring what she'd already heard. The stories varied and he didn't know the truth of any of it. "Came with money and guards. Hired some locals to fix up that abandoned spit of a castle out on the Rook Island. Castle's a strong word for something that size, but it was more than any of the locals had. No one wanted to live there, though, since it was a boat ride from shore, one that's not doable half of the year given the weather in these parts.

"No one knew where they'd come from and they wouldn't say. Some figured she was the wife of a noble, secreted away to protect her from her husband's crimes or enemies. Others said she was the mistress of a wealthy merchant. When no one came to enjoy her company, though, I suspect that one was less likely.

"Guards rotated in and out on occasion, but they were paid just well enough to keep their mouths shut. Few of them now than there used to be. Someone's still paying them, at any rate.

"The boy? He grew up to be something of a looker, I hear, but not worth a whole lot. Once he was old enough, he spent a lot of time in the village, wooing the young women, drinking, and gambling. More than a few women indulged him, thinking to get a piece of his fortune. He never settled, though. Way I hear it, they don't have anywhere near the money some think. Just enough to cover expenses and eke out a living."

Purdy paused to adjust the sails, catching the wind as it picked up around the final peninsula before the village of Raven's Reach and its lone pier came into view. A mile or more further up the coast, maybe a quarter mile off the coast, was Pigeonhole Estate. He pointed it out to his passenger.

"Which will it be, miss? Raven's Reach or the Pigeonhole? If it's the boy, or young man, you seek, you'll probably have better luck in the village. The mother, she rarely leaves the Reach. I can shuttle you from one to the others, if you like, but after tonight I'm heading back to Raemish."

Almost there, Ronda told herself after the boat captain pointed across the water toward the small castle that occupied almost the entirety of an equally small island. After so very, very long … almost … there.

What Ronda had thought was going to take a few days of travel by coach and a handful of small bribes to reach the current location of King Elrod's bastard son had actually taken nearly four moons of travel -- sometimes on horseback or rickety river boat -- as well as, if her count was correct, 14 acts of sexual service to men and even one really nasty, hair woman to finally discover and reach Glenn's actual home.

It turned out that Count Compton hadn't entirely trusted his fellow conspirator and had lied about the boy's actual location. Ronda could be a very persuasive person, though, working her way through a chain of people who did now or once had done this or that or the other thing for Glenn, his mother, or any of the variety of people who had some direct or indirect connection to him.

And finally, as they rounded a peninsula of land jutting out into the bay, Ronda was looking at the home-Keep-Castle -- a relative term to what the viewer thought of it -- in which the boy supposedly lived.

"Tell me about this boy," she asked Purdy, not knowing his precise age but knowing that he was at least 15 years old based on when he arrived at the estate.

Purdy talked about his looks and his appreciation for the women. That made Ronda smile a bit. She'd been hoping all along that she wasn't coming out here to get hooked up with a man as ugly as the man driving the boat. She was surprised, though, to learn that Glenn didn't live in the lap of luxury. He may have been a bastard child, but he was the King's bastard child!

When Purdy asked her choice of destination, Ronda told him firmly, "Raven's Reach."

The man pushed to rudder to port and set his sails, and as they headed for a distant dock, Ronda gave the island a long look. It took another half hour or so in the shifting winds and wind shadow of the mountain to reach and tie up to the pier. Ronda stepped out only to have one of her boot penetrate the rotting dock. She cried out in shock and was rescued from toppling over into the water by a young boy who'd come out to meet the boat and perhaps gain a coin by hauling luggage or goods.

Even from here Ronda could see that she was no longer in the Capital City. She'd heard the local population was just over 1,000 but from here the town looked barely large enough to house half that many. Engaging the boy who'd kept her upright, she and her three bags walked the dock to the cobblestone road that was badly in need of repair.

Purdy wasn't that far behind -- heading for a tavern, no doubt, Ronda figured -- and when he got near she asked, "Which was to the cleanest Inn with the best service?"

The man only laughed hysterically and continued up into the city. Ronda was taken aback, and looking to the boy asked essentially the same thing. He gestured her to follow and headed the opposite direction that Purdy had.

Ronda was beginning to question more deeply with every step whether or not this entire mission had been a mistake. The waterfront was … rough was a good word. Half a dozen street urchins rushed her at various points, begging for money; two shady looking characters began to approach her, only turning back when the only soldier she would see all day long anticipated their thoughts and stepped out to make his presence known to them; and on three occasions she saw men tossed out doors into the street, and two of those hadn't been ejected from taverns but had come flying out of what Ronda assumed was their own homes!

Finally, the boy -- who she learned was called Imp for one reason or another -- gestured Ronda to a door and told her with authority, "Best place you stay, lady."

Ronda looked at the establishment and said, "This isn't an Inn."

"No, lady," Imp agreed.

"This … this is someone's home."

"Yes, lady."

Ronda studied Imp, the home, and then Imp again. She cocked her head suspiciously, saying, "This is your home."

"Yes, lady."

"You want me to stay at your home," she continued. When he acknowledged her statement, she asked, "And what is it going to cost me to stay here, Imp … at your home?"

The boy's face lit up and he looked to Ronda's charm bracelet. He'd been admiring one of the dangling trinkets since the docks, a silver dragon with tiny emeralds for eyes and a red painted mouth that appeared to be spitting fire. It wasn't the most expensive of jewelry pieces she'd own while in the Count's service, but it was one of her most treasured.

"You show me where I am staying, Imp, and we'll discuss it," Ronda told him. A couple of minutes later, after she'd met the boy's boisterous mother, already midday-drunk father, and six siblings, all of whom seemed to want something from her right off the bat, and then finally was taken to a room that was smaller than her closet back in the Capital, Ronda just shook her head at the boy and told him, "I think maybe you need to give me a charm just for staying here."

But Ronda got settled in, and -- though the noise of the family seemed to never abate -- she was guaranteed by Imp's mother, Lulu, that she would be comfortable and be afforded her privacy. She asked about Lulu about the little island out in the harbor, then about the people who lived on it, then about the boy who seemed to spend a lot of time here in the town.

"Oh, he'll be in the Town Square," the mother told her. "Most nights. You will see."

She described him a bit, then asked, "Why you interested?"

"Oh, I'm not," Ronda lied. "I was only curious about the kind of person who lived in such a place … as an island."

An hour later, Ronda had unpacked and changed out of her travel cloths and into a dress that was beautiful but not too elegant for the town. Or, at least, she'd thought. She headed for the town square to begin her search for Glenn, only to get repeated long stares from men and women such that she felt like a fish out of water … or at least a fish in a bowl.

Alten was only twenty minutes into his shift and already he was bored out of his mind. Not one of the half dozen guards assigned to watch this Glenn character had expected the young man's latest whim would last half a day, let alone three months. Now they had to face the reality that he actually had the fortitude to go the distance. It was going to make for a very long winter.

A subtle shift in the demeanor of the dozen people around the town square prompted Alten to stiffen, almost to attention per his training, and look around. A young woman, very attractive and wearing a dress that would make the fanciest garb anyone in Raven's Reach owned, had just wandered into the square. He'd never seen her before and most certainly wouldn't have missed a pretty face like that. She was looking around as if searching for something. No, someone. He couldn't help but chuckle.

Alten straightened his leather jerkin, rested a hand casually on the pommel of his sword, and crossed the square to intercept her without coming across as threatening.

"Evening, m'lady," he said, offering a short bow. "Can I help you?"

She looked a bit uncertain, but informed him she was seeking the boy who lived in the castle on the island. Of course she was.

"Easy, m'lady," he said. "He's right over there."

Alten pointed toward the center of the square where a heavily-used stone water well resided. At the moment, there was only one person anywhere near it - a disheveled young man with a scraggly beard, dressed in thread-bare robes that might be brown under the dust and bare feet. He sat with his back up against the well, hands held out cupped like a beggar. Most of his head was covered by a hood and it appeared he was staring at the ground a few feet in front of him...if he was awake.

"Glenn," Alten said by way of introduction. "He spends most of his time there, though he does get up on occasion to help people with chores - carrying water, watching children or sheep, that sort of thing."

Alten could tell the young woman hadn't expected anything of the sort. She'd probably been looking for the foppish youth that he'd been until just recently.

"Not sure you'll get much out of him, I'm afraid," Alten said, taking pity on her. "He's a couple months into the trinity vows and, well, I'll be damned if he doesn't seem to be intent on running out the full year."

The woman seemed uncertain about what he meant by those vows.

"Oh, the lad bumped into a wandering Charred Monk some time ago. Not sure what was said, but next thing we knew Glenn was intent on joining the order. Between the trinity vows of silence, poverty, and celibacy, none of us thought he'd make it a day. Go figure."

He looked toward his charge. It was strange, but he'd finally earned the slightest measure of respect from both him and the other guards. He wasn't sure what the King would think of it, but...

"Like I said, you probably won't get much out of him, but good luck."

Most of those in the square only glanced or stared at Ronda. But one man -- a Guardsman or such, she couldn't be sure -- approached her, asking, "Evening, m'lady," he said, offering a short bow. "Can I help you?"

Ronda couldn't come right out and say Yes, can you aid me in finding the King's bastard son so that I can seduce and eventually marry him, ensuring my future as Queen Consort?

"Yes, I … I only arrived in town today," she began hesitantly, looking about for eavesdroppers. Most of those eying her had returned to their tasks or prior conversations, and those who hadn't were too far away to concern Ronda. "I am a poet, in search of muse … inspiration. The boat captain who delivered me to your fair town spoke of the island in the harbor … of the residents … a boy I believe."

"Easy, m'lady," he said. "He's right over there."

When the Guardsmen pointed, Ronda looked at the beggar at the well … then past him to others on the far side of the square. But the man soon made it clear that he was in fact referring to the beggar.

"He's a couple months into the trinity vows and, well, I'll be damned if he doesn't seem to be intent on running out the full year."

"His … his what?" Ronda asked with a bit of shock.

It wasn't that she didn't know what trinity vows were; it was that she didn't expect to hear about them in a conversation about Glenn. Alten explained about the Charred Monk, which only caused Ronda's stomach to turn over in what could only be described as panic. Alten's speaking of the word chastity caused Ronda to audibly groan in despair. Chastity was definitely not something Ronda wanted to hear, a woman who had earned and maintained her place in Court with the skilled use of her three holes in the right situations.

"Like I said, you probably won't get much out of him, but good luck."

Ronda leaned a bit in an attempt to get a look of Glenn's face, obscured by the large hood of his Initiate's cloak. When he tilted his head and looked up to her, Ronda rose a bit taller, surprised. He wore several days growth on his face, which also appeared not to have been washed in that amount of time, too. He smiled politely to her, lifting his cupped palms.

"Good day, brother," Ronda said, widening her smile. "They tell me your name is Glenn … that you live on the island just beyond the harbor."

The young man -- who Ronda realized was probably very handsome behind the hair and dirt -- only smiled to her, still holding his hands before him. She reached into her bag, found a smallish silver coin, and gave it to Glenn. She didn't drop it into his hands from a distance, as many patrons did to avoid contact with such beggars. Instead, Ronda intentionally let her finger tips contact Glenn's palms for a moment, just to see what his reaction might be.

"I am a poet," she said, repeating her earlier lie. "I have come to your quaint little town … I'm sorry, I seem to have forgotten its name."

She hesitated, giving Glenn a chance to answer. He didn't, of course. She continued, "I arrived here only this morning. I am in need of a guide … someone familiar with the area … maybe with the island...?"

Ronda hesitated again for a reaction. Not that for which she was hoping again. She reached into her purse again, this time removing two coins. Before she put them in his hands, she asked, "Do you know anyone who might be willing to aid me in my efforts...?"

She held the coins up to ensure that he recognized them as larger, more valuable coins before setting them in his palms. Ronda finished, "I would consider such aid a true act of benevolence … and, as such, I would be forever grateful … and … I would make the appropriate efforts to compensate this individual."

Glenn became aware of someone approaching, though he couldn't see her with the hood pulled down. Likely a villager simply coming to fetch water. It happened every few minutes, this time of evening. The light footfalls stopped and an unfamiliar voice addressed him by name in a rather formal manner.

He peered up and found a rather attractive young woman looking down at him. He could see flashes of mixed reaction in her eyes. His appearance no doubt repulsing her, which made him smile inwardly given that his reputation in these parts was more than of a handsome gent.

She offered a coin and he immediately retracted his outwardly held hands. It was still odd, even after a couple months, that any villager would try to give him money. They'd always assumed he and his mother rich, though that wasn't the case. They got enough money to get by and to remain comfortable, which was as close to rich as anyone around here. Now, he didn't even have that...by choice. His begging was for food alone.

The woman didn't introduce herself by name, but instead spun a tale of being a poet recently arrived and eager to learn more about the area from a local. He smiled, unable to refrain from the reaction. No one just came to Raven's Reach. What her true business was, he wasn't certain, but had a hunch it involved him.

And there was the temptation. He'd lived her since age four, having no recollection of a time anywhere else. He knew their living arrangement was unusual, but his mother refused to explain why. His father was clearly involved, but, again, no amount of begging or threatening could get her or any of the guards to talk about it. He was treated well, tutored, and trained by the guards in basic fighting, but eventually he wearied of that and rebelled by taking to drinking, gambling, and screwing any girl who'd have him. Initially, that was quite a few for a town this small - most were looking for his money and not him, though. That game grew tired.

Then he met the Charred Monk and saw a new opportunity, a way to rebel and maybe not be quite a useless waste. It hadn't been easy, but with each passing day he was more determined to finish what he'd started.

If there had been girls as beautiful as this one in Raven's Reach, however, he might never have taken the vows. Poise, grace, style - all bespoke of another world, one where the rich and powerful were in abundance.

She asked for someone willing to help her, reaching into her purse to produce even more coin. The indication was clear that she wanted him to help. It was, of course, absurd that she would pick him, unless she had an ulterior motive.

Glenn practically fell over backward retreating from the offered coins. He gave her an apologetic look, the gestured back toward his babysitter. Would she easily give up or press on? The guard was watching them. Had he already told her what to expect, or was he simply discharging his duties and keeping an eye on things?

Well, THIS isn't going to be easy, Ronda told herself as she casually pulled her coin-bearing hand back. The only two things she had going for her in her quest to seduce and marry this young man were her money and her body. And it didn't appear as though Glenn had any interest in either. What the hell?

"Good day to you, Brother," she said with a polite smile, adding before she turned to leave, "I will be in town for a few days. Perhaps, if you find yourself available, we can go for a walk … maybe along the shore … perhaps."

She gave him a moment to react, but once again only got his glance to his keeper. Ronda bid him a short farewell again and crossed to Alten. The man only said to her, "Told ya."

Ronda looked back to Glenn, contemplating, then told Alten, "I have taken a room down the street. A nice family with a thousand children it seems."

Alten's reaction told Ronda that he likely knew exactly who she meant. She continued, looking between him and Glenn, "I am very intrigued with this young man, and wish an opportunity to speak with him … though, I understand, his vows and all..."

Turning such that Glenn could not see her doing it, Ronda took the Guardsman's hand and pressed a coin into it. "If you were able to convince him to at least spend some time with me … a walk through the groves, or perhaps taking me out to the island, so that I can see how he lives … inspiration for my poetry … there would be more coin in your future..."

Then, knowing that often it was her other treasure that got men to do her bidding, Ronda added with a suggestive tone, "...or … something else, perhaps."

Glenn:

Glenn gave the woman a cryptic smile and shrug when she suggested perhaps a walk together in their future. He was intrigued, even if her intentions were suspect. What did it say about his past, his father, if she was here for him? Being able to speak would certainly be handy.

He watched her walk back to his guard. Even in that modest dress, he could tell she had a fine figure. His body was quick to remind him it had been months since he'd been with a woman. Another challenging part of his vows, possibly the toughest of the three. On the other hand, his prospects here had been getting thinner now that most of the eligible young women knew he was either not as wealthy as they'd assumed or simply unwilling to marry.

She glanced back once more and he gave her a brief smile, then turned back to his begging for food, hood drawn over his face.


Alten:

Alten felt for the woman, but she seemed to be taking Glenn's "condition" in stride. She informed him where she was staying. He knew the family, but not their names.

To his surprise, she pressed a coin into his hand. "If you were able to convince him to at least spend some time with me … a walk through the groves, or perhaps taking me out to the island, so that I can see how he lives … inspiration for my poetry … there would be more coin in your future..."

She had the look and willingness to spread coin that suggested she came from wealth. What would prompt someone like that to look for Glenn? On the other hand, he suspected she'd traveled alone, and a journey like that was risky and suggested desperation. Without knowing more, it was all speculation. He thanked her for the coin.

She then added with a suggestive tone, "...or … something else, perhaps."

Alten perked up at that. Money was good, but not terribly useful around here. A beautiful, willing woman? Now that had some value.

"I'll see what I can do," he said, giving her figure a look up and down that was anything but subtle. "In fact, I'll be free in the morning. Might be we can help each other out."

At Alten's note that he would be back in the square in the morning, Ronda gave him a wide, flirty smile and said, "In the morning then, here, in the square. I will look for you."

She brushed past him, allowing their shoulders to touch as she did, then headed for the Carpenter home. Imp was outside, eagerly awaiting her return, and his mother Lulu was quick to offer her some of the food already cooking over a cast iron stove if she was willing to kick in an extra copper for the meal.

Ronda politely excused herself from the meal, lying that she had made dinner plans. She put Imp to work running about town performing some errands, something in which three of his siblings got involved as well. After a short nap -- which required ear plugs against the noise of the small army of children -- Ronda was up and around again, dressing to go out.

She visited each and every pub, tavern, and inn in the city this first night, chatting with the proprietors, bartenders, musicians, and even tavern wenches about this, that, the other thing … and the strange beggar in the square. She was told several times those things she already knew for herself, but she didn't get much more beyond that.

The rumors about who he was and why he was hear varied widely. But they are came back to something near the truth: he was thought to be the bastard child of a Noble or Royal, hidden away and supported but not in an extravagant way. And, before his brother bit … he'd loved to get his cock wet in the warm, wet holes the women about town opened to him.

Alten:

Alten watched the curious woman depart and later kept a discrete eye on some of her movements about town while ostensibly watching his charge. Glenn, like usual, remained near the well until an hour or two after dark. These days, he was sleeping underneath a tarp and between some rotten crates down by the dock. Guarding him was dull duty and he was scarcely a block from the town square and the couple taverns she moved between.

A single fishing boat was tied up, unusual since the fishing was seldom good in these parts. He struck up a conversation with the owner, Purdy, and soon learned it was on his boat that the woman Ronda had arrived earlier that day. Both had the same opinion, that she was trying to see if Glenn was worth something, but she was a little different from the typical interested woman.

Once his shift ended near midnight, Purdy called it a night and hoped tomorrow might yield some of the pleasure hinted at earlier.

Shortly after dawn, cleaned up and as presentable as he could manage, Alten arrived in the town square. It was already active with some farmers arriving with a selection of crops and others coming to the well to fetch water for the morning. It wasn't long before he spotted Ronda, this time bearing a basket covered with a cloth.

"Good morning, Miss Ronda," he said, giving her a polite bow as she approached. "I wasn't entirely sure you'd show. Guess the hospitality of Raven's Reach hasn't frightened you off yet?"

Sunrise:

Ronda was deep into an inappropriately erotic dream when she was attacked in her bed, undoubtedly for the purposes of rape. Her unconscious was filled with merchant sailors (who ironically were all female or hermaphrodites), Hoshian sex slaves (who were all female but seemed to have more breasts than normal, almost udder-like), and one disturbing little dwarf who was riding around upon Ronda's feet like a toddler -- his feet atop hers, his arms wrapped around her thighs -- as his face was buried into her crotch eating her out with a trio of very skilled tongues.

When her conscious finally overwhelmed her unconscious, though, she found her bed being bounced up an down by the youngest of the two Carpenter children. They were approaching Ronda's presence as if she was some long lost aunt come to visit, as opposed to a paying guest who needed her sleep after a long night of drinking and asking questions of men whose eyes never left her cleavage. The ruckus of their squeals and questions and giggling thankfully attracted the attention of their mother, Lulu, who quickly rushed them out, apologized with a respectful bow, and announced that there was breakfast in the kitchen any time she was ready to come downstairs.

"I'll need a platter of food to take with me," Ronda called out just as the matriarch of the family was about to close the door. When Lulu asked if she needed a picnic basket, Ronda responded, "Just a small plate … assortment of your choice … and Morning Wine."

"I have ale, miss," Lulu told her.

Ronda just gave her a fine, whatever gesture before relaxing back into the bed once again. She'd stayed out far too late this first night in town, trying to inconspicuously gather all she could on Glenn. She laid here for several minutes, trying to collect her thoughts; when she realized that she'd drifted off again, despite the mayhem downstairs, Ronda forced herself out of bed and into a relatively nice shift while she ran a brush through her hair.

She looked to the small wardrobe leaning against the wall, supported in one corner by a brick that replaced a missing leg. In it hung her three and only three dresses and accessories, selected for her mission from what had been a wealth of clothing and other fineries left behind at Count Compton's home, as well as in the apartment he rented for her in the City of Weston. It depressed Ronda to think that she might never again see her clothes or ever have replacements for them in the future if she couldn't get Glenn to give up his chastity and find his joy deep inside her womanhood.

Ronda had attempted to quietly smuggle some of her more valuable or favored possessions -- clothing included -- off to the country home of an on-again, off-again lover of hers. Ronda had told Eva to keep the items hidden and safe and -- only if necessary -- sell some of the less personal items to make up for the income they would be losing with Ronda's flight from the County. (The two of them had long earned significant coin over the years engaging in threesomes, group sessions, or lesbian sex shows for Compton's guests of importance.)

As she descended the stairs to fill her belly, Ronda thought back on the debauchery that had been her life. Oh, she had very often enjoyed what she did for a living; she'd always liked new and interesting sexual situations, and Ronda hadn't been considered a whore per se as she was the Count's Consort. But she had to face the fact that if she hadn't been parting her thighs or opening her mouth and throat to some man's cock, she would have been working in a tavern … essentially doing the same for men who smelled and slapped her around simply because no one cared enough to stop them.

And now she wanted to be a whore for a King's bastard.

Unsteadily, suffering from a lack of sleep and a still present alcohol blood level, Ronda made her way to the kitchen where Lulu fed her and gave her a nasty tasting concoction that was supposed to help with the hangover. The mother of Gods know how many leaned in and quietly asked, "Do I need to tell you where to find the Alchemist?"

Ronda's head wasn't immediately clear enough for her to understand the question. When it finally sunk in that Lulu was worried that she might have had some fun last night while in the worst time of her Moon Phase, Ronda said without concern that the children would understand, "No … my knees remained closed tight last night, but … thank you for the concern."

The pair of them sat together to eat, which was a bit odd for Ronda. She was used to her servants -- or, Compton's servants, to be accurate -- stand in the background while she was eating. But then, Lulu wasn't a servant. After a bit, Ronda engaged her in conversation, about the town, the island just beyond the little harbor, and the strange young man who lived there.

Lulu had a lot to say about Glenn, not that it was anything more than Ronda had heard last night. Leaning in close, she whispered to her guest, "They say he has claimed more than one young dear's innocence."

"I thought he was an Initiate of the Order of the Charred Monk or … something like that," Ronda asked, still racking her brain for some sort of memory of the religious group. "They say he is chaste."

"Now, maybe," Lulu said, laughing loudly. She stood to get more searing meat from a pan for Ronda, then scooped up her toddler who was crying for attention. Lulu smiled wide, saying, "I even had a go with him one dark, stormy night 'bout a year ago … just for kicks."

Ronda's eyes widened as she looked at the child, then back to Lulu. But the mother of many laughed long and loud, quickly saying, "No, ain't the wanna-be-monk's bastard child, if that was what you were thinking. My husband, Gods rest his soul, was killed a few months back by pirates, attacking fishing boats and merchant ships coming into The Reach. Been hard, but … I get by."

Ronda felt immediately sorry for the woman, knowing that if she didn't land Glenn, she might herself be in a situation like Lulu's. She pulled a small gold coin from her purse -- enough for half a year's room and board in a much nicer establishment -- and set it before the hard working woman. Lulu's eyes widened with shock.

"I'll be staying a while, if that is alright with you," Ronda told her. After Lulu more than enthusiastically nodded, Ronda explained what she required: a hot bath ready for her morning and night; her son Imp's availability at all times; and a reassurance that the children would not be waking her every morning to play. Once Lulu eagerly agreed to all, Ronda gave her a pleasant smile and reminded her, "I'll need a platter of food and drink. I'm going to go visit a new friend."


Later, after a hot bath:

Now dressed in the third of her dresses -- this one even more rural than her previous one -- and accompanied by Imp, who carried the platter of food while she herself carried a pitcher of Morning Ale, Ronda made her way down the narrow street toward the well to find Glenn again. She caught sight of the guard from the night before first, smiling politely to him.

"Good morning, Miss Ronda," he said.

As he bowed to her, Ronda gave him a bit of a curtsey and showed him she'd been paying attention the day before, greeting him by name with, "Good morning, Alten. You are looking handsome and dutiful this morning.

He continued, "I wasn't entirely sure you'd show. Guess the hospitality of Raven's Reach hasn't frightened you off yet?"

"Not yet ... though ... it's still early," she said with a wide smile and a wink. She introduced Imp, only to find out that the two knew one another, then pulled the cloth back from atop the platter in the boy's hand. "A nice, spicy piece of meat, Alten? Or, maybe a fried peach. I've never had such a thing before, but I assure you, my Hostess could make a delicious meal out of a tree stump and see weed."

They chatted for a moment before Ronda could see that the platter's weight was beginning to get to Imp. "I really must stop in to speak with your young man, Glenn, again."

She laughed, correcting, "Speak at your young man, Glenn, I guess is more accurate."

Ronda excused herself after whispering to Alten to stay close, then continued through the Square to where the King's bastard was once again begging. She tried to engage him in conversation, not expecting a response; she asked him again if he would be interested in taking her on a walk through the beautiful countryside.

"Your friend, Alten, if welcome to join us," she said, looking back to the Guardsman again and smiling. More quietly, Ronda asked Glenn, "If you don't mind me asking, sire … why does an Initiate of the Order of the Charred Monk need a bodyguard?"

Ronda wasn't expecting a verbal response, and she wasn't surprised with one. She told Glenn she would return to collect the platter and pitcher later in the day, wished him a spiritual morning, and returned to Alten. Turning the Guardsman away from Glenn, taking his elbow in both of her hands, and leaning in close to speak softly as they walked slowly away, Ronda told him, "I was thinking last night … as I lay in bed … all alone…"

She gently squeezed Alten's arm in a familiar way and she continued, "...that perhaps you might be willing to take me out to the island on which your Charge lives. I was told by some of the locals last evening that the bird song and barking of the seal lions that sometimes lay in the rocks on the north beach are beautiful. Inspirational, they say. And I am a poet looking for inspiration, after all."

She stopped Alten, glanced back at Glenn -- who may or may not have been looking this way, Ronda couldn't tell -- and then said with a hint of suggestion as her eyes took in his fit chest, "I would be sure to make it worth your while, sire."

She gave Alten a flirtatious smile, told the dawdling Imp to catch up, and turned to head for the shops, telling Alten over her shoulder, "I'll be available for a tour whenever you are available."

Alten:

Alten was pleased to see Ronda and even more so to see the food she'd brought, despite having eaten breakfast already. He happily availed himself of food from the platter carried by the kid.

"I really must stop in to speak with your young man, Glenn, again." She laughed, correcting, "Speak at your young man, Glenn, I guess is more accurate."

Alten gulped, wanting to reply but unable to because of a bite of food in his mouth. He turned and was surprised and disappointed to find Glenn back at the well, begging. The guy usually spent his morning helping others do small chores around town. Alten had assumed meeting Ronda here was sufficient to ensure her need of him to find the wayward initiate. It also meant Lodan was nearby, Glenn's morning babysitter. Sure enough, Alten spied the senior guard leaning against the side of a butcher shop, watching the interaction between Ronda and Glenn.

That would lead to questioning later. How he knew the woman, what she wanted of Glenn, why was he here in the morning to meet with her. It wouldn't be fun.

Ronda finished a short one-sided conversation with Glenn, then left the food with him and returned to Alten. She took him by the arm and said, "I was thinking last night … as I lay in bed … all alone… that perhaps you might be willing to take me out to the island on which your Charge lives. I was told by some of the locals last evening that the bird song and barking of the seal lions that sometimes lay in the rocks on the north beach are beautiful. Inspirational, they say. And I am a poet looking for inspiration, after all."

He barely got past the laying in bed all alone bit.

"Actually, miss," he said as she turned to go shop. "I'm off duty now, if you'd like to go to the island. I have to watch Glenn later this afternoon, so this would be a better time anyway."

He glanced at the kid. "Just you, though. It's a small boat."

She told the kid something and he ran off down the street. He offered her his arm and escorted her the whole block down to the dock where a handful of small rowboats were tied up. Purdy's boat, the only one of any size that had been here in weeks, was gone.

"Hope you don't mind small boats," he said, indicating one of the little craft that might fit four if two were children. He held her hand until she was seated on one bench, then sat on the other and took up the oars. With practiced ease, he set off for the distant island.

"There isn't that much on the island, I'm afraid," he said. "It's pretty enough in a way, I suppose, but otherwise pretty dull. Just Glenn's mother and the few of us guards live there. And one servant to attend all of us.

"I wouldn't recommend talking to the mother. She's not the most sociable of people these days. If we're lucky, we won't see another soul. Plenty of privacy..."

He meaningfully looked her figure over while pulling hard on the oars, eager for the chance to get her alone for a while.

"Actually, miss," Alten told Ronda, "I'm off duty now.

"Wonderful," she told him, only half way sincere in her answer. She'd wanted to go to the island when there was a good chance of being with Glenn. That wasn't going to happen if the bastard child was back here in the Square. But it was still a step forward, so she sent Imp away, took Alten's elbow, and told him," Lead the way."

As they were nearing the not-too-distant island, Alten warned, "I wouldn't recommend talking to the mother. She's not the most sociable of people these days...."

Again, Ronda was conflicted. She'd hoped to build a relationship with Glenn before meeting his mother. Truthfully, Ronda would have tickled pink to meet Glenn's mother only after she was fat with his baby. Obviously, that wasn't going to happen with Glenn living in chastity.

"If we're lucky, we won't see another soul. Plenty of privacy..."

Ronda caught Alten giving her body a hungry ogle. She smiled politely, saying only, "Possibly."

She'd flirted with the Guardsman in the hopes of getting his help in getting closer to Glenn. But now Ronda realized that she might have to get closer to Alten than she'd planned. Fucking Charred Monk!

They arrived at the island and immediately headed off on a narrow trail for a tour. As Alten had said, the island was small; the trail that wandered about the grounds was less than half a mile long. They didn't walk the entire path in one trek, though; Ronda had claimed an interest in the sea lions on the north shore, so when they arrived there, she felt obligated to sit on a bench that overlooked the beach.

Glenn:

The food the stranger had brought was good, and it wasn't a violation of his vows to eat food. Glenn listened politely, shrugged indifferently at her questions, and nodded his appreciation for her offering and kind words. Regardless of what she was trying to get from him, she was being nice about it and not trying to get him to "give up his vows" as so many others had.

He watched from the corner of his hood as she returned to Alten and they shared some smiles and gestures. He knew many of those, could read the guard like a book, and didn't like where it was headed. She was going to try to use Alten to get to him, and that might not end up well for her. It didn't help that there was that distant pang of jealousy. A vow of chastity did nothing to dull his libido.

When they headed for the dock, he got a sinking feeling in his stomach. Why would he take her there? Did she know his mother? Did she know who he was and why he was here? Or was she as blind as he, looking for answers that would only bring trouble?

He glanced over at Lodan, today's babysitter and the surliest of the bunch. He was also the most honorable. Glenn didn't want to involve him in this...yet.

When Lodan looked his way, Glenn stood and nodded toward the small copse of trees behind the blacksmith's shed. It was a common place for people to relieve themselves. Lodan didn't even respond, but neither did he follow...which was the idea. Glenn went into the trees, waited half a minute, and then slipped out behind another building and was soon making his way down to the dock where he arrived just in time to see the woman and Alten pushing off from the dock in a small rowboat. He frowned and watched as they cut through the light chop toward the Pigeonhole.


Alten:

As he escorted Ronda around the perimeter of the small island on which the Pigeonhole Estate was built, Alten got the sense her flirtations and innuendo had been more to get information about Glenn than from any real interest. She was polite and asked little questions about the place while slipping in questions about Glenn.

She sat on a bench to watch a half dozen sea lions sunning on the beach.

"Miss," Alten said, trying not to sound irritated. "I'm not sure what your plan is, but I'll wager a month's salary you're interested in Glenn. You wouldn't be the first. But if you want access to him, you're going to have to go through me. Clear? And the price for admission is the only currency worth a damn in this gods forsaken shit hole."

Alten unbuckled his belt and pulled his pants down far enough to reveal his half-hard cock.

"Now, you gonna pay up?"

As Alten began to unbuckle his belt, Ronda was resigned to the fact that she'd be servicing the man here and now. She wasn't excited about this, but then what choice did she have? She needed Alten's help to convince Glenn to abandon this Initiate crap and start putting his cock inside her.

"Now, you gonna pay up?"

And speaking of cocks... Ronda thought as Alten's trousers fell to gather about his calves, revealing his own manhood. Ronda gave it an ogle; it was nicely sized with a beautiful cap at its end. She stepped up closer to him, and when she was close enough she leaned in and gave his torso a firm shove. Alten tried to maintain his balance, but with his pants around his ankles, he waved frantically as he toppled backwards onto a little patch of tall grass.

Ronda laughed as she continued moving closer … grasping her dress and raising its lower hem upwards. "I'll pay up … if … you make me a promise first."

She dropped down until she was straddling his exposed groin. Reaching under her dress to pull her underwear a bit looser, then grasping Alten's shaft, she laid out her terms as she began stroking him. "This, you and me, is our secret. You tell no one, in particular your charge or his mother..."

By now, Alten was fully hardened within Ronda's grasp. She repositioned herself a bit to allow his cock to get past the loose undergarment and find her wetness. She toyed him against her folds as she continued, "And … you convince Gleen to abandon this ridiculous Charred Monk shit … and go back to fucking women."

Ronda pressed Alten's big, bulbous head at her hole, teasing him with penetrating her as she asked, "Do you we have a deal...? Or shall I row my own sexy self back to the mainland?"

Alten

Alten half expected the woman to panic, having never meant to follow through, but that turned out to be pleasantly incorrect as she pushed him back and straddled him. She reached beneath her skirt and stroked him while reminding him that this arrangement was solely between the two of them.

"And … you convince Glenn to abandon this ridiculous Charred Monk shit … and go back to fucking women."

Ronda pressed Alten's big, bulbous head at her hole, teasing him with penetrating her as she asked, "Do you we have a deal...? Or shall I row my own sexy self back to the mainland?"

It had been too long since Alten had enjoyed a good fuck, least of all with a woman who seemed pleased at the prospect. Sure, she was trying to get something out of him like the whores and wenches in town, but she didn't act so bored at the prospect.

The problem was, he didn't have the power to get Glenn to do anything of the sort. Oh, sure, he could talk to the kid. But he and dozens of others already had tried to shake the silly notion from his head. That only seemed to make him more determined.

"Yeah, we got a deal," he said, trying to thrust up into that fine wet hole she was rubbing the tip of his cock against.

"Oiy, wot this!?"

Alten nearly spat at the sound of Daer's annoying voice. The nosey fuck just had to interrupt. He looked over Ronda's shoulder and found not only Daer but Mosley as well. The two guards were his least favorite of the bunch, generally assholes whenever given the opportunity.

"Daer said I was full of shit when I told him I saw you with a woman," Mosley said. He smiled, revealing a collection of holes interspersed with brown teeth.

"Guess you're not as full of it as I thought," Daer said, scratching a beard that never would have been permitted back in the capitol. Probably full of fleas.

Alten's erection had vanished and he wanted the guys gone, immediately. The problem was, he had neither leverage nor enough to bargain with.

"Piss off you two," he said, though it sounded weak from his position on his back under the woman.

"You ain't sposed to have guests here," Daer said, eyeing up Ronda lewdly. "But maybe we could overlook it once, if this pretty little thing can be...convincing."

Mosley grabbed his crotch, clearly thinking along the same lines.

"Really, guys, do you mind?" Alten was running out of ideas.

Daer looked to Mosley and shrugged. "Naw, I guess you can stay and watch, if'n you like."

Mosley cackled and the two men started approaching, clearly ready to take Ronda by force if necessary. Alten could see in their eyes, too, that they wouldn't hesitate to go through him if they had to. They were in the right, at least with regard to bringing uninvited guests to the island, and it'd be their word against his. He didn't like those odds any more than his position.