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"The Heir Presumptive" (closed)

Baran was surprised by Ranna's appearance in his chambers at the early hour. But, then again, she seemed to be nothing if not full of surprises. Keeping others on their toes was not a bad strategy. Many in her position would summon subordinates into her presence, usually in a large and imposing hall surrounded by guards and retinue, to create a sense of awe. Ranna needed no such things, instead catching him sprawled out naked and only half awake.

Ranna, after looking him over, turned halfway to give him a modicum of privacy while he dressed.

"I hope you are comfortable in your new Quarters, Baran. It was Baran, wasn't it?"

"Yes. And much better, my Grace, thanks." He figured he'd better reign in the quips and flippancy with her title. At least for now.

Once he was dressed, she gave him a once over and pursed her lips at seeing the condition of his face. She even apologized for Freeda's...enthusiasm. He nodded and followed as she and her guards led the way out onto the castle grounds and down toward the river.

After a long silence, walking through the dew damp grasses, Ranna said, "Freeda's informants have verified the information you gave me. They have also told us a little bit about you yourself, Lord Baran."

Baran looked up at that, surprised they'd been thorough enough to find that little nugget which few others knew about.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Premature?" There was humor in her voice. It suited her and put him at ease.

"Things change," he said. "Kings lose their crown."

The princess nodded and continued, laying out her ongoing uncertainty about his trustworthiness but a willingness to test him. That, unsurprisingly, involved him going back to Jardin to report his failure. As long as Baron Cordan didn't have any well-placed spies in Riverbrook, it would be an easy enough sell.

And then she dangled the big carrot - an offer of title, land, and money equal to what he'd been promised - if he could find out who was really behind the assassination plot against her and kill him. Cordan was the likely candidate and wouldn't be an easy target as the most powerful noble in Pratt. But Baran might have easier access to him or at least his castle. His personal assessment of the man was mixed - he'd been the top advisor to the now-deposed king, a man Baran generally respected, but was also partly complicit in that ousting. He didn't know Cordan personally, despite having been at the same functions several times, so that would make killing a bit easier, if there were such a thing.

What if the conspiracy went further? Several barons acting together? Would he be expected to kill them all? That might be too much - both from a practical and ethical standpoint. He wouldn't know until he dug further.

"It could work," he said after some consideration. "You said I'd claim to have a contact within your castle? Can I back that claim up?"

Ranna turned back toward the castle. Near the main gate stood Baran's second nemesis, Freeda. Of course it would be Ranna's spy chief.

It all came down to where Baran's loyalties lay and his gut instinct. What loyalty he had remaining in Pratt was somewhere in exile and the vows he'd made to the crown were moot given that there was no king any longer. Pratt was a dysfunctional mess whereas this princess Ranna was clearly a born leader and seemed likely to be the dominant voice in a unified kingdom if things proceeded as they appeared likely. He didn't know if she could back up her promise of title and land, but it seemed likely. Too many others had shared stories of her benevolence and loyalty to those who served her.

He followed Ranna's glance back at Teena. To think he'd pictured her as the sort of woman he'd have liked at his side when he became a lord. Suddenly, that brief flight of fancy didn't seem so far removed from reality. The princess had, apparently, figured out how to leverage him. He didn't like being used, but when objectives aligned...

"Very well, my Grace," he said. "I accept your terms."

Ranna smiled knowingly and looked pleased. She said they would begin work on details of the plan after lunch and that he was free until then. With that, she took her leave with William back to the castle, leaving Baran alone with Teena along the shores of the small river. As soon as the princess was out of sight, Teena grasped his hand and dragged him down the bank, practically skipping all the while.

"I knew you'd say yes," she said, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him fiercely. "I just knew it. You won't regret it. Princess Ranna is like no one else. And a lord! You'll be an amazing lord - with an estate and servants and a wife to bear you children."

She snaked her hand down his pants and firmly grasped his cock, not that she needed to clarify just who she thought might be an ideal candidate for such a position.

"I'm glad you approve, my lovely," he said, tugging up her skirts and cupping her bare ass. "Your opinion weighed heavily."

Teena smiled at that. "Well, good. Now let me show you my appreciation."

It turned out she was insatiably appreciative in a number of creative ways there on the riverbank in the cool morning air.
 
"Very well, my Grace," he said. "I accept your terms."

Ranna smiled knowingly and looked pleased. She'd expected this, of course. If Baran was going to refuse Ranna -- or worse, betray her -- it wasn't going to be while he was out here unarmed and surrounded by Bodyguard, half of whom were out of his view in the woods, near the castle, and even across the river in case he decided to kill their Princess and take a dip.

She said they would begin work on details of the plan after lunch and that he was free until then. With that, she took her leave with William back to the castle.

Reaching the castle's main gate, Ranna was approached by Freeda, who wore a none-too-pleased expression. The Master Spy gestured William to stop short, and after her Princess had reached her, Freeda growled softly, "You are reckless, My Grace."

They had a short, quiet, personal squabble, during which Freeda chastised Ranna about taking so many risks with this assassin of whom she knew so little; and during which Ranna reassured Freeda that she felt she knew this man far better than the Intelligence officer imagined. The conversation ended with the Princess reminding her servant playfully, "If anyone has a reason to fear Baran, it's you, wouldn't you say?"

They had another shorter back and forth that included Freeda's sarcasm filled gratitude for being sent on a fool's mission with a man she'd had beaten repeatedly over the last five days. They separated with the Master Spy heading for her horse and then town to spend the night -- "Possibly my last alive," she called over her shoulder -- enjoying the comfort of some random mouth and hands on her body.

At that, Ranna peeked back toward the river's edge. The intimacy between the pair there had already begun. A moment later, Teena and Baran disappeared over the bank toward the water's edge, most likely to once again merged their bodies together in the bliss of ecstasy. Ranna couldn't help but smile at the thought of Teena's current and former lovers on a mission together for the days or possibly even weeks to come.

"My Lady Countess Pollania had requested your attendance at your earliest convenience," William reminded Ranna. As the pair returned to the castle's interior, the Captain asked, "Have you contemplated a title and property for Baran? Or ... is that a moot topic, My Grace?"

Ranna looked to William and smiled. She knew what he meant, of course: had she already made arrangements with Freeda to put a knife through Baran's back once they'd found and eliminated the leader of the conspiracy to kill the Heir to Weston.

"My darling Ranna," an excited female voice called out from down the hall. The Countess held her arms out wide as she moved toward her granddaughter, continuing, "I've missed you during my visit to the Highlands Estate. Tell me my dearest, what mischief have you been up to?"

Ranna gave William a devilish smirk but did not answer his question. She was swept up into her grandmother's arms and headed off, leaving her Captain wondering whether the Barony of Riverbrook would have a new Lord or the Barony of Pratt would have a new body to bury.



Teena had never been so happy in all her days. As they laid together naked in the tall grass under the warming sun of midday, she imagined the life of which she'd always dreamed, despite its unlikelihood.

But then ... Baran hadn't actually said he would marry Teena. She was only assuming so. She was his lover. But, she was just a castle servant. Baran was to be a Lord. He would be expected to take a Lady for a wife. Oh, sure, he could choose a wife of a lesser station. But, would he? What would he gain by marrying Teena? Nothing more than a warm pussy and skilled mouth with which to find pleasure. No property; no wealth; no title.

Teena wanted so badly to ask Baran outright. But, what if he was having the same thoughts about station that she was? What if he simply didn't want to hurt her here and now and told her he would marry her, only to deny her such a wonder upon his return? The fear of rejection was simply too much for Teena.

"I should return to my duties," she said, breaking the peaceful silence. "My Grace will need me."

Teena rolled from her side upon Baran, her sun warmed breasts pressing against his muscular chest. She gave him a long, meaningful kiss, then sat up to find and begin pulling her dress over her head.
 
Teena was pensive as they dressed and walked side by side back to the castle. He was a little bothered by how quickly he'd come to like the girl, since that could skew judgment when on assignment. Granted, he'd tossed his assignment out the window and paired up with the enemy, but that hardly meant he was safe. Maybe he would see Teena again after this was over, maybe not. She had to be feeling the same weight of that unknown.

Back in the castle, she parted with a kiss to attend her duties. Baran knew he needed to keep a low profile, lest Cordan or any of the other Pratt barons had spies embedded. If word of his alliance with Ranna got out, he would be dead soon after returning to Pratt. Instead, he holed up in his room for the rest of the morning while working out ideas for how best to approach their mission.

Lunch was uneventful. Ranna must have also been keeping their working relationship on the down low, first with the quiet walk away from most prying eyes in the castle and then with lunch in a small chamber not much larger than a typical home's kitchen. The princess only made a brief appearance which Baran suspected was to make sure he and Freeda played nicely. Freeda was stiff and clearly unhappy with the arrangement, mirroring his own feelings, but was all business. She made it perfectly clear that she would be calling the shots, even if he made the appearance of being in charge once they crossed the border.

After, he was quietly sent down to the stables to pick out a horse and get it outfitted for the road. Saddlebags were quickly packed with sundries and by mid-afternoon they were just about ready to get started. He was still at odds with accepting this mission, not entirely comfortable turning on the nation he'd served, despite their current state of dysfunction and lack of loyalty back to him.

While waiting on Freeda, he returned to his new guest room. Teena found him soon after, still clearly unhappy about his departure, but eager enough to make the most of their last few minutes. After, with her laying naked atop him as if that might be enough to keep him from leaving, a guard arrived and informed him Freeda was ready and down near the back gate.

A dark look crossed Teena's face at that, but again he wasn't sure if it was because of his leaving or that "something personal" between her and Freeda. If she was jealous, she needn't have bothered.

They dressed in silence and Teena handed him a bag with additional clothing for him, including his old clothes that she'd had cleaned. He thanked her and she led him down to the gate where his horse was saddled and ready. Freeda was already mounted and clearly waiting on him. He gave Teena another quick kiss and squeezed her hands.

"Keep my bed warm, will ya?" he whispered in her ear.

He stuffed his clothes bag into the saddle bags and mounted up. He turned to Freeda and gave her the slightest of nods.
 
Her sexual relationship with Baran was clearly a public topic by now. When the pair of them had returned to the castle from the river bank, Teena hadn't seen any reason to hide it and kissed him within full view of the Gate Guards and some passers-by. She checked in with the House Mistress for new assignments, only to be told that Ranna had given her the day to help prepare the departure of the merchant from Pratt, as Baran was being referred to about the castle.

Upstairs, she was busying herself with laying out her lover's original clothing and packing his saddle bags when she heard nearing footsteps stop at the door. Her tummy turned at the sight of Freeda, and -- forgetting that they had recently been lovers -- took the steps of showing servitude by clasping her hands before her and lowering her head slightly as she said softly, "Mistress."

A long moment of silence passed before Freeda said with a sincere tone, "I will do my best to bring Baran back to you ... if that is what you wish, Teena."

Teena peeked up to the spy/protector/assassin for just an instant, then said softly, "It is what I wish, Mistress. Thank you."

Freeda studied the younger beauty with whom she'd shared so many nights of ecstasy. "Does he make you happy?"

"Yes, Mistress, he--"

"Teena!" Freeda interrupted.

The servant looked up quickly to see the expression in the other woman's face. She knew what it meant and corrected, "Yes, Freeda. He makes me happy."

"Happier than I did?"

Teena's eyes glistened a bit as she thought of how she had given up one lover for another, the latter of whom -- or even both of whom -- she might never see again. She answered diplomatically, "Differently than you did, Freeda."

Teena was about to speak again, but Freeda held up a hand in a stop gesture. They exchanged a long, knowing look, then Freeda turned to leave. With anxious desperation in her voice, Teena called, "You will not kill him, will you?"

Freeda paused, then looked back to her former lover. After a moment, she spoke in honesty, "I have been given no orders to do so, Teena. That is the truth. As I said ... I will do my best to bring Baran back to you, alive."

"Thank you, Freeda," Teena said, the tears breaking loose.



Lunch was ... uncomfortable for Freeda. She was sitting opposite a man she didn't trust, a man who had arrived in Riverbrook to kill her Grace, a man who had then stolen the heart of her own lover. She wasted no pleasantries on ensuring that the man knew who would be calling the shots during the mission.

They spoke of the mission ahead, of roads they would use, of towns they would encounter. Freeda had contacts in many of them, though their existence was the extent of which she shared with the man. She asked more about his contact, this Jardin Lopes; in return, Freeda spoke about Baron Cordan of Pratt, wondering whether or not Baran had any concrete proof that the former Lord Chancellor and wanna-be Supreme Chancellor had a hand in the plot.

There was no such evidence, of course, which didn't surprise Freeda. Cordan was no idiot; he would never be caught sitting in a tavern actively plotting the death of a rival King's heir. But Freeda was sure Cordan was behind this plot or even one of a number of others.

It was ironic, she thought, that Ranna herself had done nothing to cause this rush to end her life. Until just a few years ago, the Heir Apparent had been living a happy go lucky life. There was little enmity between The Kingdom of Weston and the allied Baronies of Pratt. Then, Ranna's father betrothed her to that boy from The Highlands. And since then, all Freeda did was work to keep her Grace alive.

Freeda popped to her feet at the arrival of Princess Ranna in the small dining room. She gave Baran a glare as she bowed, resting her hand upon the hilt of her knife as if to say Stay and show respect or I'll gut and eat you along with the lamb.

"Sit, please sit," Ranna commanded, waving them back to their seats. She gestured to the attending servant to pour her a glass of wine and refill the glasses of the others. Lifting the container, she toasted, "Success."

Ranna said nothing more, only looking between her two saviors with a smirk that told them her brain was active with thought. She couldn't recall ever having been part of putting together a stranger team. She tossed a coin bag onto the table near Baran, smiled to him, looked to Freeda -- who bowed her head again respectfully -- and then turned to leave once more.



Two hours later, Freeda was mounted and awaiting Baran in the stables when the man arrived with Teena. She grimaced a bit at seeing her former lover embrace and kiss the man with whom she'd be traveling for the next days or weeks. She turned her horse and walked it slowly away to give the pair some privacy. Yet, she still couldn't help but hear Baran whisper, "Keep my bed warm, will ya?"

Freeda clenched her teeth, wondering how Teena -- whose words she couldn't hear -- would respond to the request. A moment later, without the Master Spy ever looking back, they were trotting, then cantering away. Baran once again armed with the weapons he'd brought with him to the County. Freeda had draped a padded leather bag around the assassin's saddle, letting him find out on his own that it contained his Hoshian Dart Blower.

They each wore the dress of common merchants to minimize attention. Their weapons were a bit over the top for such people of commerce. But considering they were heading for the frontier -- which often suffered of Highwaymen -- a broadsword on Baran's back and a recurve bow over Freeda's wasn't too telling of their actual mission.

They rode in silence for nearly two hours, their pace varying between walking and cantering as the terrain dictated. They took their first break at a creek to water the horses and refresh themselves. It was only then that Freeda asked bluntly, "What are your plans with that servant ... Teena?"

Freeda was assuming -- correctly, as it turned out -- that Teena had not spoken of the relationship between them. Before Baran could answer, Freeda downplayed Teena importance with, "Presuming you return to Riverbrook alive to claim your title and lands ... then take a wife from the Nobility ... or wed one of My Grace's Ladies-in-Waiting ... will you continue to spend time with this servant?"
 
Baran was relieved to be back on the open road where he'd spent the better part of his life, despite the present company. They didn't talk for the first couple hours, simply making good time on their way toward the border. He had his weapons back, too, the absence of which had been just as bad as imprisonment.

When they finally took a break near a quiet brook, Freeda broke the silence. "What are your plans with that servant...Teena? Presuming you return to Riverbrook alive to claim your title and lands...then take a wife from the Nobility...or wed one of My Grace's Ladies-in-Waiting...will you continue to spend time with this servant?"

Baran wasn't known as the Astute for nothing. Freeda had chosen Teena to talk about over the mission. He'd already suspected something between them and was now certain of her. But what? Friends? Perhaps a man had come between them?

"I'm surprised at your concern over my future and with whom I might spend it," he said, washing his hands and splashing water onto his face. "Especially when it concerns a mere servant."

He stood straight and turned to Freeda.

"What's she really mean to you? Because I know it's a lot more than that."
 
Mere servant? Freeda thought. Her hand just barely moved toward the hilt of her throwing blade before she caught herself. She couldn't know whether Baran was seriously discounting Teena as just an available slit in which to find release; or whether he did feel something for the servant and was only jabbing Freeda with his wit as he had the servant with his cock.

"What's she really mean to you?” he asked. ”Because I know it's a lot more than that."

“She means nothing to me,” Freeda snapped back, attempting to sound sincere in her dismissal of Teena’s importance. But her quick diversion of her gaze to some random object didn’t help her case. She looked back to Baran and, rather unconvincingly, told him, “She is a servant of my Grace, and as such is not to be trifled with … like some … sex toy…”

She looked away as she added with obvious revulsion for Baran and for the situation, “A play thing meant to fill the time until a more worthy woman is straddled with you for the rest of her life.”
 
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Baran was taken aback by her flinch. Teena definitely meant something important to Freeda, but she clearly wouldn't share what. He decided he'd better put her at ease before she just decided to slit his throat in the middle of the night.

"I promised her nothing," he said. "But you're right, she's nothing to be trifled with. I don't know if there might be something there, but I won't string her along with false promises just to get her to spread her legs. She's a good girl who deserves a good man. And he'll be a lucky man."

He hesitated, then gave her a wry smile. "Now you, on the other hand, need an ugly brute. Someone deserving of a regularly broken nose and who won't look any the worse for it."

Baran's hand gingerly rubbed the bridge of his nose which, along with his eye, was still bruised from both her and the guards' attention.
 
"I promised her nothing," he said.

Freeda turned her face even more from Baran's view and exhaled a short pffft, revealing her lack of surprise. Men like him never kept promises to girls like Teena if they did make them.

"But you're right, she's nothing to be trifled with."

Freeda attempted to show a lack of interest in the man's words as he continued. After all, she wasn't supposed to have her own interest in the Princess's servant, right? But, Baran's words about his concern for Teena eased Freeda's concerns. Baran, she felt, would do the right thing when he returned -- if he returned -- which was to either take the young woman as his wife or let her go on to find a good man.

"Now you, on the other hand, need an ugly brute," Baran continued.

Freeda looked to him as he continued, her expression hard. Someone deserving of a regularly broken nose and who won't look any the worse for it."

Baran's hand gingerly rubbed the bridge of his nose which, along with his eye, was still bruised from both her and the guards' attention.

And before she knew what she was doing, Freeda was laughing heartily. She didn't know why, exactly. Was it because he was pointing out the damage to his face for which she was directly and indirectly responsible? Or was it because the man Baran was describing likely would be the kind Freeda would need, if she need a man at all?

"Yes, you are perhaps right," Freeda said after the laughter had ended. "Mount up. Greenburg is far. It will take us the rest of the light."



They had once again ridden in near silence for the next few hours. Freeda's thoughts were divided between the dangerous mission ahead that the two of them would share together and the beautiful girl left behind who they had also shared in a much different way.

They stopped for water twice, then just before the sun fell behind the mountains in the west, reached their night's destination. Greenburg was a small but busy village that sat at the foot of a bluff, upon which sat the Keep that was the home of the Count of Greenburg.

Located halfway between the County of Riverbrook to the west and the border with the northern most of the Pratt Baronies, the town got a lot of Merchants and migrants. (Map) Here, they would find people not only from Weston and Pratt but from The Highlands to the northwest and Central Medianna to the northeast.

Freeda smelled more than saw people from the east coast of the Continent as well. The citizens of the shore, whether fisherman or not, always seemed to carry with them the stench of fish or at least the smell of sea salt with them. Before she'd retired for the evening, she would see people she was sure came from each of the Sovereign States on the coast.

They found a small Inn, paid for two tiny adjacent rooms, and sat at a corner table to eat and drink. The place was packed with travelers and locals and the tavern wenches eager to partake of the coin in their pockets. One such young thing with her breasts practically popping out of the bosom of her low cut dress dropped into Baran's lap. She pressed her mouth to his ear and reached a hand to the inside of a thigh as she whispered, "Any hole, two coppers. Or you can have all three for five."

Freeda's lips spread in a sly smirk as she watched the girl flirt with her mission partner.
 
Baran had half expected Freeda to reach for a dagger at his flippant comment, but instead she burst out in genuine laughter. Maybe he'd misjudged her a bit. She was undeniably attractive, even when punching him, but she now came across as human and not just a bitter, icy bitch. She even conceded he might be right.

They resumed their journey, again mostly in silence but now of a less tense variety. Greenburg was a small trade town through which he'd passed on a couple occasions. As it was still in Weston, he let Freeda take the lead on picking a place to stay.

After securing rooms, they found a corner table in the crowded tavern and soon had warm food and cold drink. Their conversation was minimal and Baran spent most of his time surveying the crowd in case he recognized anyone - most likely caravaneers from Pratt.

A busty young wench caught his eye and sauntered over, clearly having taken it as interest in her services. After having gone several rounds with Teena earlier in the day, he really wasn't in need of companionship. If he was honest with himself, he'd reached a point in his life where he had more to occupy his mind than just surviving to the next day and finding a warm, wet hole to fuck. Okay...maybe it hadn't changed that much...but the stakes were clearly different. He thought about Teena and Freeda's reaction to their "relationship."

She plopped in his lap and immediately dropped a hand between his legs, almost but not quite groping him. Without so much as an introduction, she leaned in an whispered, "Any hole, two coppers. Or you can have all three for five."

He caught Freeda smirking from across the table. At least she wasn't the uptight sort over things like this.

"That sounds like a pretty fair price," he said, running his own hand up under her skirt and halfway up her thigh. "But you'd have to ask my business partner. She controls our travel expenses."

Baran nodded in Freeda's direction and gave her a playful smile and raised eyebrows.

"And, honestly, shouldn't you have propositioned her before me? Ladies first and all that? What happened to Weston hospitality?"

He made it perfectly clear by the tone of his voice that he was having fun with the girl and possibly Freeda as well. As he suggested the girl should have offered Freeda first, he even cupped one of the wench's breasts, waggling it suggestively at his partner.
 
County of Greenburg
Barony of Riverbrook:

"That sounds like a pretty fair price," he said, running his own hand up under her skirt and halfway up her thigh.

Freeda's smile widened as she watched her male traveling partner fondling the whore under her dress. Men, she thought to herself. Provide them with a wet, warm hole...

"But you'd have to ask my business partner. She controls our travel expenses."

That wasn't entirely true, of course. Baran had been provided with a small bag of coin so as to make him not appear entirely without means. It might even be enough to get his cock sucked every night of the mission, depending upon its length. But the vast majority of the funds -- the coin that would pay bribes and safe passage through Pratt, as necessary -- was in Freeda's pockets, either on her person or hidden in her saddle and bags.

"And, honestly, shouldn't you have propositioned her before me?" Baran continued. "Ladies first and all that? What happened to Weston hospitality?"

Freeda looked to the man with a sharp expression. She couldn't be certain whether or not Baran was simply being playful; or whether the man somehow knew of her preference toward other women. Had Teena told the man about the two of them? Freeda suspected she had, even though the servant hadn't. So, if Baran already knew...

The Master Spy downed the rest of her tankard of ale, stood, and grasped the wench by the wrist. With a strength one might not have expected from her, Freeda lifted the woman easily to her feet. Their bosoms pressed together for a moment before Freeda turned and led the other woman away.

"I'll see you in the morning, friend," she called over her shoulder to Baran, not looking back. "Check on the horses before you call it a night."



King Elrod's Castle
Kingdom of Weston:

Princess Victoria was pacing the length of her private office, her hands waving about before her as she mumbled to herself softly. Nearer the door stood Trett, the Captain of her Bodyguard, and one of the two men with whom Victoria had met several weeks earlier. On her tenth or twelfth or hundredth trek across the rug covered hardwood floor, she stopped suddenly and turned to face the men.

"You said this would happen!" she practically screamed at Trett. "You said she would be--"

Victoria stopped short of saying the word dead. King Elrod's second daughter had her informants within the Castle at Riverbrook, informing on the comings and goings of Ranna; there was no reason not to believe that the King's
first daughter had her own spies inside their father's castle in the home barony of Weston informing on Victoria, too.

It had been nearly a week since the failed attempt on Victoria's older sister's life. And although the didn't know what had happened to the assassin -- death or execution was the presumed result -- Victoria did know that her sibling was still walking about the castle at Riverbrook, alive and well.

She looked past the pair to the dining table. She approached it quickly, snatched up a two pronged meat fork, returned to stand before the men, and sunk the utensil into the second man's upper arm. The man screamed out in pain and backed away as Trett grabbed Victoria and moved her back.

"You said this would be done!" she screamed at Trett again. "You PROMISED me!"

"I did, Victoria, and it will--"

"My Grace!" Victoria chastised angrily. It didn't matter to Victoria that at this moment, My Lady was the appropriate moniker. She shrugged Trett's hands off her and growled, "You did ... and it will ... My GRACE!"

"My Grace," Trett said with a tone of servitude as he lightly bowed to her. He looked back over his shoulder to the man who was grasping at the metal sticking out of his arm. He told the man quietly, "Find a Guard outside and have him take you to the Alchemist."

The man headed quickly for the door, hesitated, turned back toward Victoria, and gave her a very respectful bow despite what she'd just done to him. He hurried away, leaving Trett to look back to his seething lover. He smiled, then laughed. "You can't just ... stab every person who fails you, My Grace."

"Why can't I?" she asked, returning to her pacing. They talked back and forth for several minutes about their conspiracy, keeping their words vague just in case someone was listening. Victoria finally turned to Trett and told him, "I don't care how you get this done. You just get it done."

She neared him again, caressing her hands upon his chest as she looked up into the taller man's face. With a seductive tone, she told him, "If you ever want to put your cock inside me again ... if you want to keep your cock..."

Victoria stood on her toes to kiss him before backing away and crossing to stare out upon the Kingdom she wanted for her own. She looked back over her shoulder, then down to her lover's groin. She smiled, then waved him out of her room.
 
County of Greenburg
Barony of Riverbrook:

Baran was surprised by Freeda's reaction to his putting her on the spot. She'd just up and taken the wench for the night. Huh. Well, he had offered.

Shaking his head in amusement, he watched the pair as they disappeared through the crowd and up the stairs. Suddenly, Freeda and Teena's reactions to one another took on an entirely new context. Had they been lovers? It would explain a lot. Curious.

Alone and with hours before he'd need to turn in, Baran tended the horses and then returned to join a dice game that had started up near the rear of the tavern. His coin was welcome and he was soon lost in the usual camaraderie of travelers late in the evening. Drinks flowed, wenches tantalized, and coin came and went.

He realized, belatedly, that if he'd wanted to split from Freeda and take his chances, this might be his best chance. Granted, they were still within Weston's borders, but close enough that he could slip away. He knew he was committed, though, when considering how long it had been before the thought even occurred to him. Did that make him a traitor, turncoat, or opportunist? Any would be punishable by death back in Pratt.

A good while later, with the ale going to his head and his stash of coin nearly tripled, Baran decided to call it a night. There were groans from those still playing, disappointed they couldn't earn back their losses, but he consoled them in treating to another round.

"Master Baran!" A man's voice called out just loud enough to be heard over the background noise without calling undue attention to itself.

Baran snapped around and it took him a moment to recognize the face of the young man from which it had come. "Rollen!" He crossed the room in a few easy steps and embraced the man in a firm hug as he rose from his table to meet his old superior officer.

"What brings you to this dive?" Rollen asked, waving Baran to take a seat at the small table. Also sitting there, looking a bit out of sorts, was a comely young woman.

"Little work, that's all," Baran said. Rollen had likely been dismissed the same as he had back when the king was deposed. By then, Rollen had moved to another unit, but they'd fought together for nearly a year.

"You're almost looking respectable in those clothes," Rollen said, poking fun at Baran's merchant garb.

Baran rolled his eyes. "And you?"

"Got me a wife of two weeks," Rollen said, gesturing to the woman. "Meet Caitrin."

Baran took bowed his head politely, took her hand and kissed the back of it. She blushed at the attention.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, sir," she said softly. Baran guessed farm girl, but couldn't be certain.

"Congratulations! And the pleasure's most certainly mine, m'lady."

Rollen rolled his eyes. "We're bound for Turkin. Her uncle runs the river barge docks and has need of a night guard."

"Good for you," Baran said, though he picked up the same sense of let down he'd experienced after leaving the king's service. It just wasn't the same. "You're staying here, then?"

Rollen groaned. "Rooms were all taken. Keep offered us a mat in the commons, once things die down."

Baran knew that a tavern floor, for them, was a step up from the usual hard ground under open sky or canvas tent. For his wife, though, probably less so. And for newlyweds, it was almost unconscionable.

"Take my room," he said. "I insist."

"We couldn't," Rollen protested, even as Caitrin's eyes widened.

"Don't make me pull rank, soldier," Baran said with a wink.

"I...thank you, Master," Rollen said. "I owe you one."

"This makes four, actually, but who's counting?"

Baran led them upstairs to show them the room and collect his things. As he passed Freeda's door, he was startled to hear heavy moaning. He held up his hand to quiet the other two and pressed his ear against the door. Damn, someone was having a really good time. Had they been at it non-stop since coming upstairs? If so, he was impressed...and jealous.

"Sounds like someone's having fun," Rollen said. Caitrin blushed at the insinuation but gave her husband a knowing smile.

Baran nodded. "I can only imagine."

He left Freeda's door and showed the two into his own small quarters. A small candle provided the light. The moaning next door was no quieter here than it had been in the hall.

Baran picked up his bag even as Caitrin slipped further into the room and set down her own. He nodded at Rollen and moved toward the door until his old companion caught him by the arm.

"Brother's prerogative?" Rollen asked.

Desperate for female companionship, soldiers often shared whores when the infrequent opportunity to enjoy one arose. "Brother's prerogative" was their discreet way of offering or asking to share. But that was for whores, not wives.

"Nah," Baran said, but smiled in appreciation. "Enjoy yourselves."

Rollen didn't let go, instead turning him back to face Caitrin. The young woman had untied her bodice and slid it down sufficiently to reveal a lovely pair of firm breasts. She still had an innocence about here, but the twinkle in her eye said something more.

"Rollen told me a lot of stories about your soldiering," she said. "And a few stories about what you guys did in town. He even told me a couple about you."

Caitlin's gaze dropped to his crotch as she continued to undress. "Can you prove my husband honest or a liar?"

Now naked, she stood straighter, inviting.

Baran chuckled at Rollen. "Brother's prerogative."
 
County of Greenburg
Barony of Riverbrook:

Rollen and Caitrin had arrived at Inn only minutes earlier, seeking quick refuge from a storm brewing outside. The town only had two inns that catered to the Peasantry and Merchant Class; the first had been full and now they had learned this one was two. She was quite surprised when her newlywed husband got excited and called out, "Master Baran!"

Rollen leaned in closer to Caitrin and reminded her of the name, Baran. She recognized the moniker immediately, of course; Baran was a name that seemed to come up half a dozen times a day as her husband reminisced over days now past. Rollen stood to meet and embrace his friend, but sitting as she was, Caitrin could only get glimpses of the man's clothing and arm on occasion.

Then she heard her husband announce proudly, "Got me a wife of two weeks ... Meet Caitrin."

The guest stepped into view, and Caitrin's eyes bulged as her lips widened in a pleased smile. Even under his Merchant's tunic and robe, the man to whom she found herself introduced was a God. That was the first word that came to her.

Caitrin blushed as he took and kissed her hand. She was already imagining what it would feel like to have such a man laying atop her or thrusting at her from behind. In a night of unexpected ecstasy -- and expected pain -- Caitrin had only just given up her innocence to Rollen two weeks earlier. And already, she'd found that to end the day without her husband's cock pounding her to orgasm was simply unbearable.

When they'd been told that they would be sleeping in the Commons tonight -- their third night on the road without privacy -- Caitrin had been horribly disappointed. But when this friend of her husband's offered his room, the heat building at the meeting of her thighs quite literally took on the form of a building silkiness of love oil waiting to serve her husband's intrusion upon her.

"We couldn't," Rollen protested, even as Caitrin's eyes widened.

We COULD, my love, Caitrin wanted to scream aloud, We COULD, oh yes, we very well COULD!

Thankfully, the argument was settled in the favor of Caitrin's imminent satisfaction. They all made their way upstairs, passing by a room where -- presumably -- one of the tavern wenches was feigning pleasure at the workings of a traveling male's mouth upon or cock within her womanhood. Caitrin blushed as the two men glanced at her, causing her to divert her eyes. The heat down below was causing an anticipatory dripping down the inside of one thigh.

Caitrin was longingly reviewing the bed as her husband made his farewells to his friend when she heard him speak the words, "Brother's prerogative?"

Her eyes grew to twice their size, making her thankful her back was to the two men. Caitrin was young and -- until just two weeks ago -- had been innocent, too. But she wasn't naïve; she knew what the phrase was and, if the other man were to take Rollen up on the offer, knew what it would mean. She was Rollen's wife, now, and while she herself could not make such an offer of service to another man, her husband was more than welcome to make it for her.

"Nah," Baran said, but smiled in appreciation. "Enjoy yourselves."

Caitrin was married now, a woman of one and only one man. And yet, for reasons that caused her to explode in a fiery blush that she hid from the view of the men, she found herself devastated by the second man's pass of spending some quality time deep inside her.

Then, she felt her husband turn her to face his friend. Caitrin stared at the man a moment, a nervous smile on her trembling lips. And before she even knew she was doing it, she was exposing her bosom to Baran and essentially challenging the stranger to prove his manliness to her.

Caitrin's dress and undergarments fell to gather about her feet. She wasn't the most womanly of women, with only the slightest of curves at her bosom and waist. But the swelling of both her large nipples and the sensitive nub that now peeked out between pink lips spoke volumes of her womanhood and desire to both please and be pleased.

To her delight and fright, too, her husband's friend ogled her now naked form and chuckled, "Brother's prerogative."



Freeda watched the tavern wench dress once again and scoop up the coins that had been left on the simple table by the door. The whore asked again if she should stay to keep the traveler warm through the night. Freeda only laid back on the simple mattress, the nipples of her still naked breasts pointing to the ceiling, and responded with a simply, "Thanks, but no."

As the wench departed, Freeda found her mind shifting quickly to Teena, to her time with the servant, to Baran, to his time with Teena, to the mission, to ... oh, her mind was everywhere. For a few minutes, anyway; it wasn't long before a young woman's cries pounded against the wall between Freeda and Baran's rooms.

Fucker, the Master Spy thought as she realized -- incorrectly, of course -- that her traveling mate had indeed chosen an available slit from the bevy of beauties downstairs to serve the needs Teena wasn't here to fulfill.

Freeda found herself smiling, then even laughing at the sound of the whore. Often, the wenches made men feel more manly than they were by feigning pained-pleasure at the thrusting of less-than-impressive cocks within their well used holes. And this whore was really putting on a performance. Freeda almost thought it sounded real; the cries that spoke of a shaft too thick or too long for a young, under-used passage were almost genuine, as did the pause that occurred in many women just before climax and the animalistic scream of that climax that followed thusly.

Finally, a few seconds later, a loud manly grunt of satisfaction signaled the end of the paid entertainment and, thank the Gods, the beginning of Freeda's much needed night of rest. Or ... did it. She had barely pulled a sleeping gown over her head and sat back onto the bed before the pounding next door once again returned. It sounded different in a way this time around, but it wasn't until Freeda heard a totally different male grunt of satisfaction that she realized Baran had both male and female company next door.

Freeda laughed, shocked. She imagined her traveling partner balls deep in the ass of another man for a moment, his cock coated with lard to allow such tight and unnatural penetration. Then Freeda laughed again and shook her head. No, Baran isn't the type. But then, what did she know. Did Freeda seem the type to find her pleasure at the service of another woman? Did Teena? Or did Ranna, Crown Princess of the Kingdom of Weston?

It didn't matter to Freeda where or how Baran found his pleasure, so long as it didn't affect Teena when the man returned to Riverbrook. It was more likely that Baran and another man were sharing a whore than were another man and a whore sharing Baran, but either way, Freeda didn't care. All she cared was that with a second male grunt of release, she was going to finally get the sleep she needed.

Or ... not...

Fuck...! she murmured to herself, as yet again the activity next door took hold. More pounding, more female cries and screams, more male grunts, more pounding, more, more, more. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. Freeda stood and headed to and out the room's door. She wanted to go next door and pound on the barrier, to remind Baran that he only had limited funds; if he was going to get laid every night of the mission, he was going to have to spread his coin over time, rather than spend it all this one night on a round robin affair that would last until dawn.

(Of course, Freeda couldn't know that Baran had hit it big on dice tonight and could have had twice as much fun this evening and still leave with more jingle than with which he'd arrived.)

But instead of interrupting her traveling partner's fun, Freeda instead looked down upon the ongoing fun on the tavern floor. She met eyes with a pair of wenches just rising from the laps of two men who apparently hadn't had the necessary coin.

"You two!" Freeda called down with a voice loud enough to get attention from half the crowd below. Excited calls and offers rose from the floor at the sight of a beautiful woman in a tunic that only reached the mid of her thigh ... offering some of those below a shadowy view of her womanhood. Freeda ignored the hoots and hollers and tossed a silver coin to the pair of wenches, telling them, "Bring both of yourselves and a flagon of the best ale."

She turned back to her room and, still hearing the sound emanating from Baran's room, thought to herself, If I'm not going to sleep, I might as well enjoy not doing so.



Freeda awoke to the now too-familiar sounds of Baran's bed banging against the wall. She tried but failed to open her eyes as the harsh sun broke through an unshaded window to pound upon her face. She finally roused, finding the naked wenches still flanking her in the very mussed bed. She slapped one bare ass, then another, telling the women, "Git! There's no more coin to be made here."

As the woman next door cried out in yet another orgasm, the giggling pair of whores made their way past the table that sported three empty flagons, not one as Freeda had ordered. No wonder my head hurts, she thought as she watched the naked whores make their way out onto the landing, carrying rather than donning their clothes from the previous evening.

Freeda cleaned up using a pitcher of water and bowl, dressed, then stepped out onto the landing. An unfamiliar man stood at the railing, looking down upon the tavern floor which was, of course, empty with the exception of a few passed out patrons and morning clean up girls. The man caught sight of Freeda and gave her a quick up and down glance.

"Only if you want me to cut it off you," she said softly, laying her hand upon the hilt of her knife as she glanced at his groin. When he only shrugged, she took a guess and asked, "You part of that in there last night?"

He acknowledged with a nod and a short explanation. Freeda found herself intrigued, particularly when she realized that the door to the bedroom was cracked. She knew she shouldn't but couldn't resist; rather than head for the nearby stairs to ascend to where she hoped to find some breakfast, Freeda headed toward the more distant set, taking her past the open door.

But rather than just take a peek and walk on, Freeda found herself stopping short and backing up for a better look. Baran's naked body -- on its knees and thrusting at the woman's back side as she was on her hands and knees -- was impressive, with its firm definition and obvious strength. It almost made Freeda wish she was interested in cock ... almost.

But her reason for stopping was the woman ... and -- obviously -- while one might have thought it was because of Freeda's preferences for sexual partners, it was something entirely different this time around. As the woman was crying out with each ram at her pussy, her orgasm nearing quickly, Freeda pushed the door open until it hit the wall.

With only the slightest change in the effect on Baran was causing her body, Caitrin's face lit up with delight as she called out, "Freeda!"

The Master Spy laughed, loud but short, then told the younger woman, "When you're done pleasing my traveling partner here, come join me for breakfast downstairs."

Caitrin only nodded her head and resumed her matching thrusts to Baran's movements. Freeda, for her part, laughed again, then turned to look to the surprised man on the landing before heading away to go downstairs to order breakfast.
 
Baran woke to diffuse sunlight, his senses slowly coming back to him. He realized he was sandwiched between two naked bodies with him spooning the lovely young Caitrin and Rollen spooning him. Baran didn't generally seek out the company of other men, but he'd served in the King's Army long enough to have partaken in more than a few "Brother's Hand" activities and this was far from the strangest circumstance to which he'd woken.

Last night had been fun. He wasn't sure if he was driven by the sound of Freeda's activity next door or simply at the novelty of having a relatively innocent young woman - and a married one, at that - eager to couple with him. He'd licked Caitrin to multiple orgasms before daring to penetrate her tight pussy. And what a heavenly pussy she had. The girl barely accommodated his girth, but responded with zeal as he filled her and then filled her.

Rollen joined in as Baran was nearing his first climax, kneeling beside his young bride and letting her fondle and then suck him hard. Once Baran was done, Rollen wasted little time in taking his place between her legs, fucking her hard and fast in the slick remnants of the first coupling.

Baran wouldn't have blamed her had she passed out after all that, but instead she seemed more awake and eager than ever. She crawled over Baran and sucked him back hard. He got her to flip around so that he could eat her out simultaneously, savoring the combined flavors of multiple lovers. It had been a while since he'd done anything of the sort, but it triggered many a fond memory. Rollen, inspired by the display of the pair, became aroused again and straddled Baran's head so he could fuck his wife from behind while the other two continued their mutual oral. Caitrin climaxed multiple times in that position while Baran lost a load to her dainty mouth. After Rollen came again, Baran caught the leakage in his mouth and then licked his former Brother's member clean.

Yes, it had been a good night.

Baran smiled as he cupped Caitrin's small breast and playfully tweaked the nipple to arousal. The young woman stirred under his touch and pressed her ass back into his growing erection.

"Didn't get enough last night?" she mumbled.

"Never."

Rollen stirred behind Baran and groaned something incoherent that might have been agreement. The man threw an arm across the both of them and pressed in harder from behind. It wasn't the only thing harder back there, either. Baran didn't mind a little Brother's Hand, but he did have one limit. Still, he didn't flinch.

"I'll be sore for a month," Caitrin said, cooing at Baran's touch. "So we might as well make it two."

She reached between her legs, found Baran's cock, and guided it toward her slit. She was too swollen and unprepared to take him, but she used him to rub herself to arousal. After a minute of that, she rolled away and told him to lay back.

Baran took the middle of the bed while Caitrin straddled his cock. Rollen fingered her pussy, nodded in approval, and then guided Baran's cock into his wife as she settled her weight down on him.

Her sigh of fulfillment was unmistakable. She began to very slowly ride him, while her husband rose on his knees to kiss her. She responded aggressively.

"You too," she said to Rollen, her voice assertive and yet just a little bit nervous.

Rollen smiled and moved around behind his wife where he removed Baran's cock from Caitrin so he could lube himself up in her pussy. Satisfied, he fed Baran's cock back into her pussy. Between that and a bit of saliva, Rollen took his wife's behind. Baran could sense all this from the pained and then pleasurable expression on Caitrin's face. Once she was used to having cocks in both holes, they all found a nice, easy pace.

Rollen climaxed first, with Caitrin right behind, moaning loud enough to wake most of the adjacent guests who hadn't already arisen. Spent, Rollen kissed his wife and begged them to continue while he left to relieve himself. Caitrin continued to ride Baran to another orgasm before he lifted her off and re-positioned her on hands and knees. He slid in easily from behind and began pounding her hard.

"Freeda!" Caitrin said between desperate gasps.

Baran glanced toward the door and was vaguely surprised to see his partner standing in the doorway, watching. There was no distaste in her expression. Amusement was clear from her laugh, and there was most definitely surprise at being recognized. Just how did these two know one another? He was beginning to wonder if this was more than mere coincidence, crossing paths here.

Freeda said, "When you're done pleasing my traveling partner here, come join me for breakfast downstairs."

Caitrin nodded and went back to her moans as yet another climax arrived just moments before Baran unloaded deep inside her. Freeda had disappeared, but he heard her chuckling as she faded away.

Caitrin collapsed on the bed, not putting up any resistance as Baran licked her pussy clean, savoring what would likely be his last taste of her. He then availed himself of the pitcher of water and towels to wipe himself down while she dressed, seemingly eager now that she remembered who was waiting downstairs for her. Baran was about to ask how they knew each other, but Rollen came back in the room and they embraced with a quick kiss.

"Meet me downstairs?" she asked. He nodded and gave her a playful swat on the behind as she hurried off.

Rollen gave Baran's naked figure a lingering look.

"Sorry if I ruined her for you," Baran said with a chuckle.

Rollen brushed it off. "I'll manage. Probably pushed her from enthusiastic to insatiable, anyway."

"You're welcome."

Baran got the sense Rollen might have still been up for a little play - perhaps a bit more into men than most soldiers who'd only dabbled when women weren't available. Baran was utterly spent, though, and wanted to hear what the deal was between the girls downstairs. He dressed and joined his old friend in heading to the common room.
 
"Married!" Freeda almost shrieked at the other woman's declaration of her recently exchanged vows. She laughed in surprise. "To the guy standing on the balcony...? Who was watching you with my traveling partner?"

At a table in the tavern's corner, the two laughed and chatted loudly with frequent gasps of surprise from Freeda as the girl told her story. In her first 13 years of life, Caitrin had never once been more than 3 miles from her home in Turkin. Her family had operated a ferry there for three generations, since the bridge connecting the Kingdom of Weston and the now-dissolved Kingdom of Pratt was burned during the Wars.

Freeda had known this, of course; she'd known Caitrin since the ferryman's only living child had been in her pre-teens. With the ferry being the only way across the river for almost 40 miles, Caitrin and her father had been well placed to offer the Master Spy information on who had been traveling where, when, and how. The family had profited a great deal from Freeda's purse, and Freeda in turn had been able to provide Ranna with knowledge that might not otherwise have been learned.

Then, Caitrin had simply disappeared. Her father had mistakenly believed that his daughter had run off with a handsome, young Nobleman who had rented one of their cabins for a few days as he awaited the rest of his traveling party. In reality, Caitrin had been kidnapped by the man who hadn't been a Noble but was instead a provider for the east coast sex slave markets.

Caitrin would escaped three times, only to be repeatedly recaptured. And through it all, her greatest asset -- her chastity -- was preserved for her final owner.

But then she met Rollen. He helped her with food, coin, and housing without asking anything of her except a smile. After two weeks of off and on companionship with the man, it was Caitrin who finally seduced Rollen. Two days later they married. They'd been on their way to Turkin when they'd come across Baran.

Out of the corner of her eye, Freeda saw the two men who had found delight in the young woman's pussy now descending the stairs while laughing about this or that. Freeda looked back to Caitrin and asked with obvious knowledge, "Brother's prerogative?"

"You've heard of it, too?" the younger woman asked, giggling. When Freeda only nodded, Caitrin went on, "I had, but ... I never thought I'd ... well--"

"I understand," Freeda cut in. She hollered at the two men to grab the platter of food the Innkeeper was nearly done preparing for the quartet. She leaned in close and asked in whisper, "So, which of them ... you know...?"

Caitrin turned about ten shades of red, glancing to each of the two men one after another. "They each have their ... ways."

They laughed together as Caitrin leaned in even closer and described in detail what the two had done to her during the night and again this morning. When she saw that the two men were about to head this way, Freeda asked, "Does your husband know what you used to do for me?"

"Spy?" Caitrin asked without concern. After Freeda has shushed her, the younger woman whispered, "No. And he doesn't know that I was kidnapped. I fear he would think me violated before he claimed my purity."

Freeda couldn't help but explode in laughter. She leaned in and whispered, "For most of the last several hours you've been entertaining two cocks, and you're worried that your husband might think you sullied?"

Caitrin shushed Freeda as the two men neared and arrived at the table. The platter Rollen carried had a great assortment of cold meats, cheeses, vegetables, berries, and more; and the pitchers Baran carried offered the quartet both a weak ale and a weak wine, both intended to hydrate as opposed to intoxicate.

Freeda leaned to put her mouth to Caitrin's ear for a whisper, and after she'd pulled back, the younger woman asked her husband, "Rollen, my friend has offered us the opportunity to accompany her and your friend to the Barony of Pratt."

Before Rollen could respond, Freeda added, "And there would be coin as well. We may find ourselves in need of assistance at some point ... if that is of interest to you."

Freeda looked to Baran with an expression that pretty much said This is my choice and you have nothing to say about it. And although she didn't say that to him, she did softly ask with a devilish smirk, "I wonder how our mutual friend slept last night all alone back in Riverbrook."
 
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Baran's eyes narrowed slightly at Freeda's question, but he was hardly going to let her guilt trip him over Teena. It wasn't exactly a committed relationship. And last night had been...an unexpected courtesy to an old friend.

"No doubt up all night, wondering what manner of trouble we were getting ourselves into." His tone was neutral, neither dismissive nor overly bothered.

Something unspoken passed between Rollen and Caitrin. Rollen shrugged and said, "Sure, we'll join you."

Baran wondered if she knew anything about Rollen. Surely she could guess his background as an acquaintance of Baran's. It seemed to him like unnecessary risk, letting these two come along, but Freeda was calling the shots at this point. He shrugged and feigned pleasure at the additional company. Well, he didn't have to feign too much at the thought of more pleasure... Caitrin gave him a smoldering look before taking her husband's hand in hers.

The finished up breakfast and demanded more. Apparently everyone had worked up quite the appetite. They then settled up with the innkeep and went to fetch their horses.

Baran got Freeda alone for a moment while they went to the stables.

"You sure about bringing them along? And what's the story between you and the girl?"
 
King Elrod's Castle
Kingdom of Weston:

Trett stalked quietly out of Victoria's chambers. Getting yelled at by her was nothing out of the ordinary. He could take it, knowing she fucked with just as much passion when that mood struck her. It was the failure of the Pratt assassin that bothered him. They'd assured him that the best possible man would be chosen for the job. Clearly, they'd been mistaken.

Victoria had put it upon him, personally, to make sure the job was done right this time. He could delegate again or go to Riverbrook and find a way to kill Ranna without anyone knowing it had been him. He could probably get close enough to kill her, but it was that last bit that made it a daunting task. Her Grace's security would be even tighter after another failed attempt on her life.

He was loyal to Victoria, willing to give his life for her. He would much prefer to keep his life, however. As the fifth son of the king's brother, he had noble blood but few legitimate prospects beyond some shit hole manor out in a bog or other. By his early teens, he'd figured his best opportunities would be to attach himself indispensably to someone with better prospects. That led him to training for the royal guard and sidling up to the young Ranna. He'd been several years older, just enough to be a fascinating figure to the then-nine-year-old princess. He rather liked her - already sharp, wise, and bull-headed. They'd even shared a first kiss.

That all ended when Ranna's mother died and she was taken away to spend most of her time with her grandmother in Riverbrook. Sensing an opportunity lost, he'd redirected his efforts toward the king's second daughter, Victoria, and that had progressed nicely. She had pulled strings to advance him quickly through the ranks and become the head of her personal guard. That put him in good position to be her secret lover. In return for his loyalty, she'd promised him a place at her side in one manner or another. The higher her station, the higher his.

When Ranna balked at the proposed marriage between her and the young Highlands prince, Victoria went from scandalized to scheming, sensing an opportunity. There was only one thing - one person - in her way of making it legitimate. But it had to appear to come from outside Weston. When Pratt dissolved with the ousting of its king, she saw the final piece of the puzzle and formed an alliance that would protect Pratt from a unified Weston/Highlands threat by putting Victoria in line to be married...or more.

But the damn bitch wouldn't die. Trett turned down the hall, realizing belatedly where he was headed - the alchemist's quarters. No one accosted him in the halls, so severe his demeanor.

He'd liked the young Ranna, but knew she'd changed enough to essentially be little more than a distant abstraction of political obstacle. Plotting to kill her had been all business. He could even convince himself it was in the best interests of Weston, and therefore he wasn't violating his oaths to the crown.

But could he face her himself and kill her? Trett, for all his training in combat, had never actually killed a man before, let alone a woman. Combat on the field was a noble, honorable pursuit. Killing in cold blood, under the cloak of darkness, was the business of...lesser men.

Trett found Kyle getting his arm tended to. He dismissed the guard who'd escorted him here and waited until the Pratt-man was done. Kyle held his bandaged arm, scowling, as he exited the foul smelling lab and fell in as they retreated down the hall.

"I need you to get back to Pratt with all haste," Trett said, his voice low. "Find out what the fuck happened and make it right."

"So I don't get stabbed again?" Kyle cast a skeptical eye Trett's way. "I'm beginning to wonder if your lady isn't the greater threat."

Trett spun on his heels, grabbed Kyle forcefully by the bandaged arm, and shoved him against the wall. Kyle let out a yelp of pain and his face paled immediately.

"Watch your tongue about My Grace," he said, each word very deliberate.

"Of course, of course," Kyle said. "Just...I don't appreciate getting stabbed."

"Just as she doesn't appreciate failure." Trett let him go. "Now, just get it done."

"What about you?"

Trett was still considering that. "I think I might have to pay Ranna a visit personally. But it'll have to be official business, so you'll still have to find a replacement. No excuses, no failures this time. Too much hangs in the balance."

Kyle nodded. "Of course."
 
"You sure about bringing them along?" Baran asked.

"Yes," the Master Spy said without hesitation. "Twice as many eyes, twice as many ears ... twice as much chance we find the man behind this and bring an end to this danger."

Of course, Freeda knew that even if they managed to bring an end to this conspiracy, there was always another one waiting.

Baran then asked, "And what's the story between you and the girl?"

Freeda caught Caitrin looking her way at the question. The younger woman stood, grasping her husband's hand and urging him to his feet to go get their bags from the room. Caitrin didn't want her husband hearing Freeda's answer anymore than the intelligence operative from Riverbrook did.

Once they were alone, Freeda told Baran about how the girl and her father had been informants prior to Caitrin's disappearance just over a year ago. "Caitrin may still be young ... but she is experienced at inconspicuously gathering information. And she has an eye for people like no one I've ever seen. She never forgets a face ... or a walk ... or a voice. I wouldn't be surprised if, when we get deeper into Pratt, Caitrin doesn't recognize people she met only once, possibly even years earlier ... people that you or I may find of interest."

Freeda glanced up to the second floor landing as the couple were exiting the room. She looked back to Baran, smiling knowingly. She still couldn't believe what she'd seen this morning or what Caitrin had told her in whispers before breakfast about the evening and morning's sex.

"And I get the feeling you won't be too sad to have her near either, am I correct, Baran?" Freeda asked. She laughed loudly, adding, "Caitrin's no longer the little girl I'd known for so many years."
 
King Elrod's Castle
Kingdom of Weston:

Olean waited patiently in her lady Victoria’s antechamber, tuning out the passionate cries of their coupling. Victoria would no doubt provide Olean with a detailed recounting afterward, both out of pride and for tips on what to try next. Olean found it a tiresome but necessary part of her duties to the young noble. It was, after all, the way she’d been able to insinuate herself among the princess’s handmaidens. While the other girls tittered and gossiped about sex, few had any real experience. Olean had filled a huge gap in Victoria’s incomplete education.

Olean, as a result, was one of Victoria’s closest confidants now. The others scorned her accordingly, as if her lack of noble birth or trace of Hasshian heritage wasn’t enough. Olean ignored them. She was here for other reasons, playing a long game at the direction of those much smarter and more ambitious than the princess. It was all about access and patience.

For the moment, she was merely to intercept any who might seek out Victoria, a token gesture at preserving the secret affair with Victoria’s personal head of guard. Trett was an ambitious but foolish man, driven by a desire to rise above his station. That made him predictable. The affair had been manageable enough so far, though there was tension recently. Something was going on Bryan them beyond the sex that she hadn’t figured out yet.

To pass the time while they finished, Olean juggled the knives from the food platter waiting on the table. She was good, never getting cut, never dropping one despite their differing sizes and lack of balance.

When the grunting subsided, Olean returned the knives and took her seat, hands folded demurely in her lap. A few minutes passed before her lady yelled for her.

“Yes, my lady?,” Olean said as she entered and bowed her head.

Victoria was sprawled naked atop her bed, glistening in sweat. Olean noted she’d trimmed the hair between her legs. Victoria vocally decried Olean’s preference for complete dipilation as befitting a Hoshian whore, but clearly the clean look has worked its way into her mind. Trett, naked beside Victoria, pulled the edge of the sheet up in token modesty. He looked bothered that Olean had been called in while they were still so clearly in a state of impropriety.

“Trett leaves in the morning for Riverbrook,” Victoria said. “You’re going with him.”

“What?” Trett clearly shared Olean’s surprise at the pronouncement. “I’ll be on horseback.”

Victoria snorted. “You’ll take a carriage. If you aspire to one day be my chancellor, you can start by looking the part. Chancellors don’t dirty themselves on horseback. And they travel with servants.”

Trett opened his mouth but shut it at a look from Victoria, instead just nodding his acceptance.

“As you wish, my lady.” Olean wondered at the arrangement. Why her? Trett openly disparaged her heritage and had argued against her becoming a handmaiden. Was Victoria just messing with them for her own amusement? Or did she think Olean was the safe choice, one Trett wouldn’t try to fuck around with?
 
The Burkin Gorge
(The River Burkin, separating Weston and Pratt)

Freeda took the lead as the mounted quartet descended from the plateau down into the Burkin Gorge on a trail barely wide enough for a horse. They had spent yesterday riding east without haste to reach the border between the Kingdom of Weston and the Barony of Yemm, the northwestern most Barony of the former Kingdom of Pratt.

As they came round a corner and caught their first sight of the Village of Turkin, Freeda half turned in her saddle to look back to Caitrin. The younger woman looked positively scared to death. It had been more than year since she'd been home, since she'd been stolen away by slavers in the middle of the night. For more than a year, her father had misbelieved that she'd run off with a young Nobleman. And now, here Caitrin was, returning with a husband.

"Wait here," Freeda told the others when they reached the flats at the bottom of the incline. She dismounted and handed her reigns to Baran. Looking to Caitrin -- whose identity was hidden within her cape's hood -- she reassured the girl, "Your father will understand if I speak with him first ... explain."

When she returned, Freeda's eyes were glistening with threatening tears. Caitrin must have known what her friend of many years was going to say and burst out in sobs. The normally hard-edged Master Spy took the younger woman into her arms and explained softly that the Ferryman had died a few months earlier of the Gray Fever.

"He died thinking I'd run away ... abandoned him," Caitrin sobbed into Freeda's collar. After some unintelligible blabbering, she added, "Papa never got to meet my husband."

They would spend the night in an empty house set aside for weary travelers. Thankfully, Freeda thought, Caitrin was in no mood for copulation, as there wouldn't have even been a wall to separate them this time around. A destitute peasant girl came around with food and drink and -- through body language and subtle hints -- made it clear that she was available should the men have coin to spend. But Freeda passed a silver token to the girl, telling her that more pork and ale would suffice.

As the sun fell early behind the high cliff's to the west, Freeda spoke to the current Ferryman. He was a young man named Leeson, with whom she had been acquainted from earlier times. He had been an occasional Helper with the Ferry, as Caitrin's father had no sons or other family to assist.

With Caitrin no where to be found, the local Count -- to whom the Ferry's taxes were paid -- had offered the business to Leeson. The Count's cut was high -- twice what Caitrin's father had been paying -- but as Leeson had stepped into the business with no up front costs of his own, it had been worth it.

"Is ... is Caitrin going to want her family's property back?" Leeson asked tentatively. He was obviously concerned that his livelihood was about to be lost. "It is her right to--"

"You have nothing to fear, young Leeson," Freeda reassured him. "There would be too many foul memories here for our friend to wish to stay."

The night passed by quietly, interrupted only a couple of times early in the dark by Caitrin's returning sobs. Thankfully the night passed without a repeat of the sex that had kept Freeda awake the night before. The next morning, Leeson had a small box awaiting the foursome at the corral where he'd already prepared their horses for crossing into Yemm.

"It is some of your father's things," Leeson explained. "I've been saving them ... just in case ... in case you ever came back."

He lifted the lid, revealing a couple of dozen smallish items of little to know real value. Yet, Caitrin took the box and hugged the young man tightly, thanking him profusely. She kissed him on the mouth with a bit more intimacy than Freeda would have expected. Obviously, by the young man's widening eyes, he hadn't expected the gesture either.

Caitrin thanked him again and -- with the others right behind -- led her horse to the ferry. They crossed into Pratt and continued their trek.



That night they got rooms in an Inn on the North Road. It was the major thoroughfare leading south toward the Barony of Pratt, where Baran had said he'd met with his handler and thus begun the adventure they were now on. Caitrin had gotten over her despair by now and spent the night fucking her husband to the obvious dismay of Baran, who was sent away to sit at the Tavern's fireplace with Freeda.

"He asked me again where we were going and what we were doing," the Master Spy informed her partner. "Have you told him any different?"

The story upon which the two of them had decided was a simple one: Baran owed Freeda money, and a man in the City of Pratt owed Baran money, so ... they were on their way to collect. Rollen had seemed to accept the story thus far. Freeda had hated lying to her friend, but Caitrin had asked no questions.

When the noise from upstairs from the otherwise quiet and nearly empty Inn, the other two travelers headed upstairs to catch some sleep. The following day and the one after than went just about as had the previous one: without excitement, in the saddle or in the bed.

The next afternoon, though, word came from some passing travelers that the local Baron's Guard was checking identities at the bridge down the road. They were looking for a traitor for whom crucifixion was too good a punishment. Freeda wondered whether or not they were looking for Baran; by the expression on his face, Baran must have been thinking the same. They diverted off the main road and took to the side roads and trails through the countryside for the next two days.

Rollen was beginning to ask more questions about Freeda and Baran's mission. The pair of them stuck to their tale, but Freeda could see that the man was increasingly beginning to doubt the cover story. The sixth day, Freeda decided she needed to speak to Baran in private and went looking for the man. She found him naked and bathing in a stone pool that captured hot water rising from deep within the Earth. Rollen, also in the nude, was knee high in the slow moving water of the nearby stream.

Freeda didn't approach them immediately, instead listening to them talking about their days in the Army of the now deposed King of Pratt. It was obvious that their relationship went deeper than Freeda had earlier thought. They were better friends than she had thought, not just Army pals. They had lived a great many adventures together over the years. They laughed as they reminisced about good times and bad. It made Freeda yearn for earlier days, when she'd had more friends than she had today.

"Remember that day in Pitchfork?" Rollen asked as he made his way up to the warmer pool of water. "Remember that ugly wench that no one would touch?"

They laughed together as Rollen stepped into the pool and urged Baran to sit on the edge. Freeda's eyes widened as she watched the slightly younger former soldier begin massaging the slightly older one's cock. Within seconds, Baran's shaft was hard as a rock and pointing toward the sky. Rollen knelt between his friend's parted thighs, leaned in, and took Baran's penis into his mouth. His head bobbed with obvious experience, and it wasn't long before Freeda's partner -- who had gone without now for 5 nights -- grunted out with satisfaction as he unloaded into his friend's mouth.

Freeda backed away back into the woods, returning without a word to Caitrin. She wouldn't hear Rollen -- after he'd swallowed and rinsed his mouth out with pool water -- ask the question that was still bouncing about in his mind.

"What are we really doing here, friend? This isn't about some debt owed, whether to you or her or both."
 
Baran found Rollen increasingly difficult to read. Caitrin's father's death had changed the demeanor of everyone. He'd chalked much of it up to Rollen's attentiveness to his new bride's needs, but before long it was clear the man was having trouble buying their story about monies owed and debts to be collected. Their story wasn't that far from the truth, but the inability to add details clearly made it ring hollow.

Hearing about Pratt seeking a traitor had further frayed his own nerves. He had no reason to think it was him, as his handlers couldn't possibly know the nature of his failure unless they had an exceptionally well-placed spy among Ranna's people in Riverbrook Castle. As he couldn't rule that out, however, he'd have to approach any of his old contacts with extreme caution. For an added measure of safety, he stopped shaving his usually clean face.

Sticking to the back roads and trails, they'd been forced to spend a couple nights camping. Baran knew this area from his time guarding caravans and had led them to a nice spot with good shelter, lush grass for the horses, and a hot spring not far away. In the morning, he slipped off to avail himself of a warm bath. Rollen must have noticed because he soon invited himself along.

Rollen seemed more relaxed than he'd been in days, talking about old times while he soaked in the cool stream into which the hot pool drained. Baran sensed it was a forced camaraderie, though, and possibly a prelude to confrontation. Did the younger man have it in him to question a former superior officer?

Rollen joined him in the hot spring and gestured for him to sit. Baran did as asked and, predictably, the younger man was soon between his legs - first stroking and then sucking him to full arousal. Baran sighed, both in resignation and appreciation, and leaned back, letting the man's lips and tongue go to work on him. While he'd hoped for another round or three with Caitrin, circumstances had made that unlikely. The young couple had resumed their own, private lovemaking, however, so it wasn't out of the realm of possibility.

Having gone the better part of a week since his last climax, Baran was quick to cum in Rollen's mouth. Several spurts unloaded, each deep in the other man's throat, before he was finally spent. Rollen swallowed, smiled, and then rinsed his face and drank from the fresh water.

As he turned back to Baran, Rollen's own erection was plainly obvious and Baran figured there was some hope or expectation of reciprocation. Instead, Rollen cut to the heart of the other building tension.

"What are we really doing here, friend? This isn't about some debt owed, whether to you or her or both."

Baran sighed and slipped back into the hot water to rinse off.

"It really is about a debt, but not quite what you might think," he said. "I'm not sure how much you or the other men knew about my rank or history."

Rollen tilted his head. "Not a lot, I guess. There was talk that you'd moved above your station due to your heroics. I think that's why so many of us liked you. Well, that and your disregard for authority when the nobles in charge were being stupid fuckwits."

Baran smiled at that and the memories. "I grew up on the streets, a poor orphan. Caught the attention of someone with power, still don't know who, and got trained up to be a spy. Okay, it was just an informant at first, but I was good and could figure out what information they wanted before they even asked. That led to an education and more active roles in executing the King's needs."

Rollen nodded, more familiar with that later role of Baran's leading a small squad of soldiers behind enemy lines. He'd probably never heard about the spying part of his teens.

"When I received my commission as an officer in the King's Army, I was also promised a lordship." Rollen's eyes widened at that. Apparently, that tidbit hadn't gotten out among the soldiers. "I was less than a year from getting it when the King was deposed. Just like you and the rest of the King's standing army, I was unemployed and all promises taken from me."

"Fuck. And I thought I'd gotten a raw deal."

Baran shrugged. "I didn't take it well, no. Now, I have a chance to get back what was owed me. All of it. So, in a manner of speaking, what we'd told you was correct. To get what is owed me, I owe something to Freeda."

Rollen sat on the same stone Baran had just vacated, his cock now softening. "That's what I'm not so sure about. I get the sense this Freeda is Weston, not Pratt."

Baran's training was the only thing that kept him from reacting.

"Remember the bullshit we used to always complain about? The nobility nonsense?"

Rollen nodded.

"Well, it's hip deep in that," Baran said. "I swore my oath to a crown that no longer exists. I've got my loyalties, but now I have to make them based on my own best judgment, not what I'm told by a king or other noble. To get what I'm owed, though, I've got to play their games."

Baran took a step closer to his old friend and reached down, fondling the man's balls. Rollen perked up a bit at the contact and spread his legs invitingly. There was still concern on his face, though. Baran respected that, even as he tried to distract the man.

"Never pictured you for a noble, to be honest," Rollen said. "But I'd like to see more nobles like you."

Baran smiled and knelt down, stroking Rollen to a full erection. God, it had been years since he'd held another man like this. Felt strange, not being out on the edge of a battlefield on some cold winter night.

"If it all works out, I would be in need of a good man-at-arms," Baran said, then leaned forward and took his friend's cock in his mouth, immediately tasting the salty hint of pre-cum. He sucked him for a minute, before pausing to ask, "But that all depends on where your loyalties lie these days."

Baran returned to sucking the man, fondling his balls with a practiced hand. Rollen rolled his head back and moaned, thrusting up gently in time with Baran's efforts. No further words were spoken while the blowjob escalated in intensity until reaching its culmination. Baran swallowed and then pushed back, submerging completely in the water.

When he emerged, Rollen was looking at him seriously. "Pratt," he said determinedly. "My loyalty is to Pratt. I don't know quite what that means right now, but if you're to become a lord, then yes, I'd be honored to be your man."

Well, fuck. Baran respected the man for his loyalty to his homeland. Unfortunately, if it was Ranna offering him a lordship, that wasn't likely to be in Pratt. Maybe in what was left of Pratt after in got conquered, if he was reading the princess's ambition correctly. Rollan wouldn't see that the same, though.

"Good man," Baran said with a smile, burying all his conflicting emotions. "Now, we'd best get back to the others. Lots of road to cover still and we don't need Caitrin getting jealous of you."

Rollen was going to be a problem.
 
IFXQtoB.jpg

Freeda brought her mount to a stop where the forest opened at the edge of a tall, steep cliff. As her three traveling partners stopped near her, she said with a sense of foreboding, "The City of Pratt."

She'd never felt comfortable here, let alone safe. It wasn't just that they were deep in what Freeda considered enemy territory. She had bad memories here, experiences that dated clear back to when she was a child. Few knew that Freeda had come from Pratt, and even those who did knew little to nothing about her early life.

"Lead the way," she told Baran. He'd been leading the trek for the last two days, since his interaction with Rollen at the hot spring. As the two men urged their horses forward, Freeda said softly to Caitrin, "Wait. I want to talk to you."

Only after the men had carefully descended a hundred feet or so down the steep trail did Freeda ask, "What's on you mind, Caitrin?"

Caitrin was hesitant but after a moment said, "It's Rollen."

"What about him?" Freeda asked with concern. Over the past few days, she herself had seen a change in Rollen. She couldn't explain it, but it was there. "Is he a danger to the mission?"

Although Freeda had told Caitrin the details of why she and Baran were here, Baran hadn't yet told Rollen. But they weren't going to be able to hold back the truth for long. At the base of this mountain, when the quartet reached the main road, the mission would be squarely in Baran's hands.

"No, I don't think so," Caitrin answered. "He is loyal to Baran. He would never do anything to hurt his friend."

Freeda wanted to ask more, but at Baran's look back from down the trail she knew it was time to move. She would just have to keep an eye on Rollen and hope she hadn't made a mistake inviting the newlyweds.
 
The familiar sights and smells came back to Baran, taking him back to another time. True, he'd lived within the Kingdom of Pratt for most of his life with the exception of some years in his teens while spying, but very little of that had been in the City of Pratt proper since he'd turned twelve. Despite the turmoil of losing the king, little else seemed to have changed.

Baran didn't know that many people in the city and was grateful for the way a week's worth of facial hair had changed his appearance. He didn't want to be recognized until or unless it was on his terms. That meant, unfortunately, they had to stay in a more upscale inn near the palace as the lower end dives were too...familiar. Freeda didn't question him, which increased his appreciation for her intelligence.

They got the horses stabled and arranged for rooms, food, and drink. The inn was filling up quickly, but had a distinctly different vibe thanks to the more upscale clientele. Merchant and artisans and minor nobles, all with a distinctly more refined air about them even if they were still interested in the same things - drink, food, company, games of chance, and music.

Rollen and Caitrin both looked distinctly uncomfortable. Underdressed, dusty from the road, and out of their class. Baran felt a bit of it as well, though he had associated more with this sort before. The last thing he wanted was for them to draw extra attention to their endeavor.

He passed a small handful of coin to Rollen. "Why don't you two order a hot bath and enjoy some quiet time together? I need to make an inquiry or two, then we'll make a plan in the morning. Good?"

Rollen nodded. Caitrin looked first to Freeda, then nodded as well. Baran gave Freeda a look that was sufficient for her to get the hint that she should stay.

Once the newlyweds were upstairs, Baran and Freeda left into the late dusk evening. Lamplighters were out among those heading home late or seeking evening entertainment. Freeda followed Baran's lead in silence until they reached a quieter section along the wall surrounding the palace grounds at which point she asked him where they were off to.

"Jardin Lopes," he said. "He lives in the city, but is often away on business. Since he's our only sure link in the chain, I want to know if he's home."

Baran had never been invited into Jardin's home, but he knew which one it was. A nice three-story estate packed into a row of similar ones. It was well-kept on the outside, just like the street, and it was quiet though lights emanated out from windows on the second and third floor.

Baran hesitated, but Freeda grabbed his arm and giggled as if drunk and having trouble staying upright. "You'd better get me home, big boy," she said, voice slurred. Baran trusted she wasn't putting him on for no reason, so he played along until they were down the block and onto a side street.

"What?"

"His house is being watched," Freeda said. "First floor window in a house across the street. If it'd been any darker, I wouldn't have noticed, while your interest in his place would have been."

Baran cursed. He wasn't a master in spy craft, but he had been trained and knew better than to assume any situation was safe.

"So what does that mean?"

Freeda frowned. "I'm not sure. Could be a trap for you or someone else is on to him."

Baran pulled Freeda back into the shadows and slipped out of his boots and socks, then buttoned up his darker jacket to obscure the light shirt underneath.

"Wait here," he said. "If I'm not back in fifteen minutes, meet back at the inn."

Freeda tried to protest, but Baran ignored her and climbed over a fence as noisily as a cat on the hunt. His eyes were quick to adjust and the old skills came back quickly as he moved from yard to yard. As he closed in on Jardin's from behind, he slowed to carefully survey every possibly window or shadowed alcove in which someone might be hiding. He came up empty and looked again. Apparently, whoever was watching Jardin had limited resources.

Baran peered in the first floor windows, but it was all dark. Digging his toes into cracked mortar between bricks, he scaled the outside of the house until reaching the second floor. A dim glow emanated from within and he carefully peered inside. It appeared to be a bedroom, unoccupied and illuminated by a dim light coming from the room or hallway beyond. He could just make out voices so he pressed his ear against the window.

"...tomorrow. Meet with... yeah, I know...yes, dinner..." It faded away, but Baran was confident it was Jardin. The guy's voice was distinctive. Sounded like he would be out and about tomorrow, so perhaps they could track him down.

"Or find out who's watching him," Freeda said when he finished recounting what he'd found. "Watch the watchers, then make our move. Best do it in the daylight when it's busy and we can blend in. Maybe make use of the others."

Baran still didn't feel entirely comfortable using Rollen or Caitrin, but it would make surveillance safer.

They took a different, circuitous route back to the inn, pausing frequently to make sure they weren't being watching. The common room was still active, but not overly boisterous. Freeda insinuated it would be best if they got sleep and had an early start in staking out Jardin's stake out. Baran agreed and went to his own room where he stripped and climbed into bed.

Sleep was slow in coming, lost in thoughts about what it meant that someone was watching Jardin's place.
 
King Elrod's Castle
Kingdom of Weston
6 days ago:

“Trett leaves in the morning for Riverbrook,” Victoria told her servant. “You’re going with him.”

Olean couldn't prevent her eyes from widening in shock. She hated traveling to distant places, and the County of Riverbrook was 6 days by carriage. And speaking of carriage, Olean thought as the conversation continued.

“What?” Trett shared Olean’s surprise. “I’ll be on horseback.”

As she listened to Victoria lecturing her lover, Captain, and Counselor about proper travel, Olean almost wished she was back in the Broad Street brothel where her Lady had found her three years before. Sure, whoring wasn't exactly the most dignified of professions, particular to the Merchant and Lower Nobility Classes as Olean had been. But at least her clothes had been free of road dust and her nostrils free of horse farts.

“As you wish, my lady,” Olean said, even as her brain was wanting her to respond I'd rather be sucking your father's cock. "Shall I prepare a bath, My Lady?"

Victoria shot Olean a hard glare. The servant lowered her gaze to the floor quickly, correcting, "My Grace."

Olean was caught between tradition and service. Tradition said that only the Heir Apparent to a King -- such as Ranna -- was to be addressed as My Grace. An Heir Presumptive like Victoria -- a second daughter -- was to be addressed as My Lady, no different than a Noble woman. That, of course, was Victoria's issue: she was more than just a Noble woman, much more. Why should she be called something different that her sister?

Victoria sent Olean back to the antechamber to allow her to finish her conversation with Trett. Once the Captain was gone, Olean bathed and dressed her Grace for her day. All the while -- as expected -- Victoria spoke of her night with her lover ... in intimate detail. Olean fully understood that she'd been plucked from a life of sexual servitude by the young Princess because of the education she could give Victoria. But that didn't mean she needed let alone wanted to hear every intimate detail -- every thrust, lick, and orgasm -- that the young Royal experienced.

"You will keep an eye on Lord Trett while he is gone, Olean," Victoria commanded while her servant brushed and arranged her hair. She turned to look directly into the other woman's eyes, asking pointedly, "You understand what I mean, yes?"

"Of course, My Grace," Olean answered simply. She had long recognized Victoria's jealousy when it came to Trett. "I'm sure all will go well, My Grace. As I am sure that Lord Trett will miss you horribly while he is absent from your side."

"And from my bed?" Victoria asked sharply.

"Yes, and from your bed, My Grace," Olean responded without hesitation, despite not believing it. She padded Victoria's ego with, "Lord Trett has always and will always be faithful to you, My Grace."

Olean had no evidence that Trett had been bedding other women, but she was certain that he was. He was a Lord with money, power, and influence; why wouldn't he be seeking out new and exciting warm and wet holes in which to thrust his cock? Just because he was fucking a Princess? Men were men, it was that simple. Trett could have been emptying his cock inside every slit in the Kingdom of Weston and Olean wouldn't care. The only reason she would be concerned was if it began to affect her directly.

"If he strays..." Victoria began, not finishing her thought. When Olean urged her to do so, the Princess added with a tentative tone, "If ... if he seems to be seeking company ... another woman..."

Olean had initially thought Victoria was simply going to ask that she be informed of Trett's dalliances. Then, a horrific thought struck her, and a chill ran painfully up her spine. She pulled her hands slowly back from the Princess's view, afraid Victoria would see the gooseflesh that had suddenly exploded up and down her arms from the thought.

"If Trett appears to be seeking the warmth and comfort of another woman," Victoria said, confirming what Olean feared, "you will make yourself available to him instead."

The wanna-be-Queen looked up into the ashen face of her servant, asking firmly, "Do you understand?"

Olean opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She'd been with dozens ... hundreds of men during her few sexually active years, and -- with the exception of the one man she'd loved -- she'd had to force herself to provide the service for which they'd paid. And yet, Olean held a whole different sort of hate for a man such as Trett, who used his position within this House and his station with society in the way he did.

"Do you understand?" Victoria stressed, grasping one of her servant's wrists so tightly that Olean grimaced in pain. "You will lay with him--"

"You're hurting me, My Grace!" Olean whined, forcing herself not to fight or attempt to pull away.

"You will open to him that well used little slit of yours!" Victoria continued, only tightening her grasp. As Olean bent over in pain, then fell to her knees, still begging for relief, Victoria finished, "You will please him in whatever way he desires. Do you understand?"

"Yes, My Grace!"

Victoria continued to squeeze the servant's wrist for a moment more, then released her hold with a bit of a shove. Olean fell to her side on the floor, shuffled to rise to her knees, and bent her head forward in respect. She waited there for a long moment, and when she finally got permission to rise, went back to arranging Victoria's hair with now-trembling hands. Olean was relieved -- thrilled actually -- when her superior waved her out of the room.

"Before you leave...!" Victoria called just before Olean escaped. After the servant had stopped and bowed her head again, the Princess called in one of the two Bodyguards flanking the door. Victoria closed the door, looked to the big soldier, and ordered, "Remove your trousers."

The guard's eyes bulged, and behind Victoria Olean gasped. The Princess looked between them, repeated her demand, and waited. When the Bodyguard simply stared, Victoria gestured toward the closed door as she asked, "Do you want to keep your cock? Or ... shall I have your partner come in and cut it off?"

It only took a moment for the man to drop his trousers and -- when gestured toward -- his undergarment. By the time he was naked from the waist down, he was already hardening. Victoria ogled the average sized member a moment, then turned to Olean.

"Show me that thing you do with your mouth again," Victoria ordered. When the servant only stared, confused, the Princess explained, "Before Lord Trett wanders away from my bed tomorrow morning ... I want to first show him tonight just what will be waiting for him when he gets back."



Today:

Olean exited the Inn and approached Trett as he spoke to members of his Guard unit. When he looked to her, she explained, "The Keeper is ... inviting a guest to evacuate his room ... to make room for you, My Lord. He has asked for a few more minutes."

They were still a day away from Riverbrook, having had to take a longer route to circle a flooded road. Olean was sick and tired of being on the road. She'd hoped to be bathing in the servant's quarters of Riverbrook Castle by now. The only good thing to have come out of this trip was that each night of the trip -- and now tonight as well -- they'd managed to find an Inn in which to sleep. No tents in a field or beds upon straw in a barn.

Oh, and of course, Olean hadn't had to service Trett. So there was that, too.
 
Freeda took the lagging position in their group as they headed for and through the City Gates. If her traveling mates attracted any undue attention from the citizens or, particularly, the City Guard, Freeda wanted to witness the rear.

She had another reason for being last in line, though. After her conversation with Caitrin this morning, Freeda had decided to keep a better eye on the woman's husband. She'd noticed curiously that over the last couple of days, Rollen had been stealing glances at Baran on occasion, as if studying him in an attempt to uncover more about his mission.

Freeda was becoming worried that she had, indeed, made an error in inviting the couple along. Well, maybe not the couple; just Rollen. But not inviting Rollen would have meant not inviting Caitrin. And it had been a delight to have her old friend in her life again.

They found lodging and sent the newlyweds inside before taking their first step toward uncovering the truth behind the conspiracy. Freeda's experience as a Master Spy and Baran's experience in moving inconspicuously made them quite a team. As Baran infiltrated Jardin Lopes's estate, Freeda studied those out and about in the streets.

There weren't many people out this time of night, and most of those passing by were your regular ol', everyday citizens. But there were also a higher than expected number of uniformed, armed Guardsmen as well. And if that wasn't alarming enough, Freeda also spotted at least three agents of Pratt's Secret Service out and about as well. The men of the Intelligence Division -- which were now and had been under Baron Cordan's control even before the Kingdom's collapse -- wore civilian dress and carried smaller weapons that could be hidden under their garments and cloaks. They sometimes carried goods to appear as if Merchants or had women on their arms to give the impression that they were simply out for dinner, entertainment, or an evening stroll. But they had a way about them that the Master Spy knew all too well.

When Baran returned to tell her what he'd seen, Freeda did the same concerning her own observations. They conceived of a plan as they headed back toward the Inn, with Freeda telling Baran, "Best do it in the daylight when it's busy and we can blend in. Maybe make use of the others."

At their lodgings, Freeda excused herself to have a last ale while Baran headed upstairs to sleep. She had other plans in mind, though. She sent one of the only two tavern wenches not already spoken for up the stairs toward Baran's room with a message, then headed out of the tavern.

The wench, however, was intercepted by another woman, who took the message, passed on a copper for the trouble, then entered the room. In the dark, she stood silent and still as she began untying and dropping her clothing. Finally, stepping forward to let the moonlight spilling in through the window cascade over her delicious curves, Caitrin whispered, "Baran."

When he realized it was her, his friend's wife moved to the bed, pulled back the bedding, and moved to straddle over the man whose cock she had fallen hopelessly in lust with. Whispering still, she informed him, "I put Rollen to sleep with Dream Root. We can make all the noise we want, and he'll never know."
 
Baran had finally nodded off when he started, aware of a presence in his room. Heart pounding, he instinctively reached for the dagger he kept tucked beside the mattress. Before withdrawing it, however, he recognized Caitrin by voice and nude figure highlighted fetchingly in the moonlight.

She pulled back his sheet and straddled his crotch, revealing herself to already be damp. He began to respond instinctively.

Whispering, she said, "I put Rollen to sleep with Dream Root. We can make all the noise we want, and he'll never know."

Baran's consciousness caught up with him. Caitrin was here without Rollen's knowledge? That didn't sit well with him, despite how his body was reacting.

"That's not exactly how the Brother's Prerogative works," he said, pressing a hand into her chest as she leaned forward to kiss him. "And you drugged your own husband?"

Caitrin adjusted his hand until it was fully cupping a breast, her nipple hard in the center of his palm.

"Not drugged," she said, bemused. "Just helped make sure he's well rested for tomorrow."

Baran frowned but couldn't bring himself to remove his hand from her. "I don't think you're a very loyal wife."

Caitrin's grin widened, white teeth gleaming in the moonlight. "I'm loyal. I just need more than what he can provide. Besides, you aren't the best example of loyalty to be talking..."

That hurt because it was true, no matter how he tried to justify it. And if he didn't kick Caitrin out, it would only add to his list of betrayals. He didn't mess with fellow soldiers, his Brothers.

"We shouldn't," he said, sounding weak even to his own ear.

Caitrin responded by grinding her pussy harder into his erection. "No, but we will. We're both bad people, so be bad to me. Tell me I'm naughty. Call me a slut and a whore. Just use me."

She leaned in close and whispered in his ear. "You could even pay me, like all those girls you and Rollen and the guys used to share."

Either Caitrin had changed dramatically over the last few days or she'd been hiding a side of herself, possibly from her husband. Did Rollen not know the true Caitrin? Baran found himself buried in a mix of emotions and hormonal responses.

"I'm not paying you," Baran grumbled, then kissed her hard. She nipped at his bottom lip and then shoved her tongue in his mouth. Between them, she reached for his cock and positioned it at her pussy.

"You'll still get your money's worth," she said.

Baran felt his cock squeezed as she forced herself onto him. Still so tight, yet somehow they managed. She had worked herself up to such a state of arousal the action was smooth and welcome.

"You like that?"

Baran could feel the heat in her question, the need for his answer. His instincts overtook reason.

"Fuck yes," he groaned, thrusting deep. "Such a hot, tight cunt."

Caitrin purred and rode him harder.

"Just what I'd expect from a young, hungry cock-whore."

Caitrin gasped, riding him to her first orgasm. She barely slowed as it crested and was soon riding him hard again.

"Rollen can't do that to me," she whispered between nibbles on his earlobe. "That's why I'm his wife and your whore."

Before Baran could climax, she climbed off him and crawled between his legs. Cupping his balls, she wrapped her lips around his shaft and took half his slicked length into her mouth. Enthusiastically, she bounced up and down.

Pausing for a breather, she looked up. "Who's the better cock-sucker? Me or Rollen?"

Shit, she knew? He didn't know if Rollen had shared that or if she'd watched. It hardly seemed to matter now. Caitrin certainly didn't seem to be bothered by it.

"Sorry, but Rollen's got you beat," Baran said, honestly yet teasingly. "He knows how to take it deep."

"Fucker. I try, but can't. You're too big."

"I've had smaller girls than you take it all."

Caitrin sat on her haunches. "Really? How?" For that brief moment, she'd broken character from the dirty slut to genuinely curious young woman.

Baran threw his legs off the bed. "Lay down. I'll show you."

He oriented the girl until she was laying on her back, sideways across the bed with her head hanging off. This worked better with higher mattresses, but Baran was able to squat low enough to line himself up with her mouth. She opened wide and he gently worked his way in, letting her get a feel for the unusual orientation. After a couple gags and false starts, Caitrin got the hang of his penetration, relaxed, and he was able to slide almost fully into her mouth.

With her necessarily passive, he slowly fucked her mouth while she held his ass cheeks. As they fell into a rhythm, Baran reached down and tweaked and then pinched her nipples. The harder he pinched, the more she moaned. By the time he was pinching so hard he feared he might leave marks, she'd moved her hands between her legs and was rubbing furiously.

Baran felt his climax coming and feared choking the poor girl while she was so thoroughly engaged. At the last moment, he pulled out and unloaded across her chest. Caitrin squealed in glee and then her own climax, and lifted her head to lick the dribbling from the tip of his cock.

"That was...something." Caitrin said, holding him as he turned her around and climbed back onto the mattress beside her.

"Feeling slutty, yet?"

Caitrin grinned. "Closer. But the night is still young."

Baran traced his finger across her tummy and between her breasts, collecting his cum. He held it above her mouth, teasingly, and she opened wide in eager anticipation. He lowered his finger until it almost reached her lips, then abruptly pulled it back and took it in his own mouth. She cried in outrage, but he silenced it by shoving his tongue in her mouth and sharing the bounty.

"Naughty," she said after doing her best to lick it all out of his mouth. "You like the taste of yourself."

"I don't mind. But I prefer the taste of you."

He dipped a finger in her pussy, withdrew it, and licked it clean melodramatically. He repeated the process, this time offering it to her, which she accepted eagerly. Twice more he repeated it before he could wait no longer and slid down to eat at the source. She came and came and came...

It was, indeed, very late or very early, before they finally fell asleep.
 
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