****
A thick haze of smoky incense wafted out from the large hut as Markoz
and Brigitte approached. The walls were
made of thick timber beams, which was unusual for orc structures in the Angrian
March. Probably stolen from Sandora or Thesta, she thought. Most of the unusual things found in the March
could be explained that way.
That proper building materials and techniques were used was an
indication of the wealth and stature of the hut’s inhabitant. It had taken a lot of cajoling, but Brigitte
had finally convinced Markoz to move forward with her plan. The first step was to call a conclave of all
the remaining tribes, but while Markoz was a powerful and respected warrior, he
didn’t have the authority or gravitas to summon the other tribal chiefs.
There was one orc who did have the influence, but it wouldn’t be easy
to convince him to do it. Jogarth was a
mighty chieftain in his prime, and it was his defeat of Turogg that had stopped
the King’s consolidation of the orc tribes, at least long enough for Turogg to
get intertwined with Jeanette and the politics of the Western Kingdoms.
Jogarth’s victory won the acclaim of all the orcs remaining in the
Angrian March, and there was no other orc more respected. But in the years since his victory, the orc
champion had grown old and fat.
Brigitte trembled at the sight of his bulbous, corpulent flesh as she
waded through the haze of incense and approached the orc’s throne.
As she got close she had to restrain herself from coughing as she took in
Jogarth’s stench. The incense was
doubtless meant to suppress his odor, but the closer they got the harder it
became. The former princess wondered how
the women arrayed on either side of him could stand it.
But I suppose you get used to it,
after a while.
“Markoz, welcome!” Jogarth
exclaimed, his face lighting up with delight.
“It’s been too long since a warrior of your stature graced my
hall.” The obese orc reached down to
stroke the dark hair of one of the women seated to his side. “Can I offer you the service of one of my
women?” He asked as his gaze shifted to
Brigitte, leering at the young woman.
“In time perhaps, great Jogarth,but there will be time for women
later. Now is the time to talk of battle
and riches!” Markoz replied amiably. Brigitte couldn’t tell if he was being sincere
or not, but was sure Jogarth was used to such flattery regardless.
“Hah! Battles and riches? It’s been over a decade since I handed
control of my tribe to my son. My days
of chasing battles are over, and I have riches aplenty. Only women remain to comfort me and keep me
warm in my twilight.” Jogarth’s lips
twisted into a nasty grin as he leaned forward.
“Speaking of, is this the pretty morsel I’ve heard so much of? The human princess?”
Brigitte shivered beneath the old orc’s lecherous gaze. Her scant clothing did little to hide her
curves, especially since Jogarth made no effort to hide his intentions, but
boldly leaned forward to look inside her vest at the curves of her
breasts. She wanted to scold him, but
knew that would be a mistake: for the
moment she had to let Markoz do the talking.
“It is: my little Brigitte.”
Markoz slipped his hand beneath her loincloth and groped her rear
affectionately. With his other hand he
pulled back her vest to expose the Princess’ breasts to Jogarth.
Taking it as in invitation, the older orc reached forward to grasp one
in each hand. The rough, calloused grey
hands squeezed her milky flesh, testing their heft and firmness. His fingers, still strong despite his
advanced years and physical deterioration, sought out her nipples and pressed
around the nubs. He twisted the rings
piercing them back and forth, then grinned lecherously as the nubs sprung to
life beneath his touch.
“Very nice, very responsive.”
Brigitte suppressed a shudder as the repulsive orc fondled her
breasts. She pressed her ass back
against Markoz’s fondling hand for support as she bit her tongue to prevent
herself from snapping at the old orc. Talking about me like I’m not here, She
fumed. Remember why you’re here, remember Megdis and father. I can put up with this for them. It took everything she had to keep silent,
but she knew that it still wasn’t the right time to speak, not if she wanted to
bring Jogarth around to calling for a conclave.
“She’s proving to be quite the
little gem. In addition to being a
spirited, passionate concubine she’s also a font of information on targets to
raid.” Sensing her discomfort, Markoz
placed his other hand on her shoulder to steady her. He gave it a squeeze as his other hand
continued to massage her bare bottom beneath the loincloth.
“Yes yes, but is she fertile?” Jogarth asked as he released one tit to
stroke Brigitte’s cheek.
“I think so, though it is still a little too early to tell. We should find out soon enough, isn’t that
right?”
“Yes, Chief.” Brigitte replied,
looking past Jogarth to the orc’s concubines standing on either side of his
chair. Her eyes fell on an olive skinned
girl from the Eastern Kingdoms who was looking at Markoz longingly. I can’t
blame her, compared to Jogarth I’m happy to serve Markoz!
“Oh? When was the last time you
bled, girl?” Jogarth asked as he gave
Brigitte’s tit a final slap and sat back on his chair.
“Three weeks ago, Chief.” She
replied baldly. While most women might
be offended at the invasive question, Brigitte took it in stride. It was just a natural bodily function, after
all. However, thinking about it did send her stomach a flutter. I was
at my most fertile when all this started.
I could be with child right now.
“So, fertile for your initiation, hmm?
How exciting. I hope things
didn’t get out of hand.” Jogarth
snickered as he reached out with both hands to touch the women at his sides.
“Not in my camp, Jogarth. None
would dare. They know me, and they fear
me. Plus, they know I have a scent for
victory and have always led them well.
Like the opportunity little Brigitte here has presented to me; some
leaders would pass it by or ignore her, but I sensed the potential for great
wealth and triumph.”
“Hah hah hah!” Jogarth laughed
from his belly. “You’re not going to let
it go, are you Markoz? Very well, very
well. Tell me what you came here to say,
and then maybe we can get back to discussing your lost princess.”
“We’ve all seen how raiding isn’t what it used to be. The Thestan and Sandoran lands within easy
reach of the March have been largely depopulated. All the best treasure was looted long ago,
and the young women have all been taken or fled. There is very little worth fighting for, or
risking the wrath of Amelie as Grogosh did.
So instead, we turn on each other.”
“True true, so what do you propose?
A deeper strike into Thesta while the Princess-Knight is distracted by
war?”
“We could, but there aren’t any tempting targets in range. Not like there is in Zentara. Haverset is just across the border on well
known and well traveled routes. The men are all away for the war, so it sits
undefended, filled to the brim with centuries of treasure taxed from our
ancestors.”
Jogarth steepled his fingers as he thought. “What will you do with all that treasure if
you can’t use it for anything? Haverset
is the only place we can go to sell off our gains, or trade it for livestock
and tools.”
“We have other merchants to sell to, orc merchants. There are plenty of men, great leaders such
as yourself, with outposts in the March.
You’ll be happy to take our plunder and sell it on the eastern
caravans. Think of the fortune you could
make! Plus, by looking towards the
eastern markets you’ll open up new opportunities to acquire more of their
women, like that beauty behind you.”
Markoz leaned forward with a predatory grin. “You know I’m right. Trade with Haverset has been declining ever
since Turogg’s son took the elfish throne.
They don’t need the scraps we have to offer. Besides, how much of your gold has
disappeared into Haverset over the years?
Wouldn’t you like to get it back?”
Brigitte watched Jogarth carefully, trying to gauge how he was reacting
to Markoz’s persuasion. The words seemed
to have an impact, though he didn’t look totally convinced. A sudden epiphany struck her and she blurted
out, “My chief has been regaling me with tales of your victories, especially
your legendary triumph over Turogg. I had never heard of them before, for in
the Western Kingdoms they only speak of how he conquered the orc tribes and led
them to victory for Zentara. Now you can
set the record straight, to show them all who the true warrior is.”
“Your victory over Turogg as a youth made you a hero, Jogarth.” Markoz continued, “Let this victory over his
children make you a legend. Call the
conclave, and let us show the humans what true orcs can do!”
The corpulent orc stared at Markoz for a long moment, before a grin
broke out on his face. “Very well, I’ll
do it! If nothing else, a conclave will
liven things up. I’ll send out riders to
the tribes immediately. But if I am
going to call a conclave and sponsor you to speak, then let us share our women,
like brothers do.”
As Jogarth leered at her, Brigitte hid her resignation. Markoz had told her it might come to this:
that it probably would come to this. She
was ready to pleasure him, despite him being the most repulsive orc she had met
yet. At
least he isn’t going to enter me vaginally: that much is forbidden to him.
“Of course, Great Jogarth, I would be honored to sample your women.”
“The ‘princess’ has such soft, honeyed words. I’d like to see if her mouth is equally as
sweet. Which of mine would you like to
sample, Markoz? The eastern delight you
noticed earlier?” Jogarth leaned forward
to grope Brigitte’s tits again, playing with the shiny piercings as he pulled
her closer, until he could bury his face between her breasts. His rubbed his tusks against her cleavage as
he nibbled on the soft flesh.
“She’ll do nicely, I think.”
Markoz replied as he patted Brigitte’s ass, nudging her forward to
Jogarth.
The look of desire on the eastern woman’s face gave Brigitte an absurd
pang of jealousy. Don’t get used to him, she thought, you will be staying here with your master and I shall be returning with
him. “Ah!” She cried out suddenly as
Jogarth bit down on her nipple and tugged the pierced nub.
“Very nice, quite delightful, but let’s put your mouth to better
use!” Jogarth pulled Brigitte down by
her shoulder with one hand as the other lifted his great belly, pulling it out
of the way to make room for Brigitte to crawl beneath him.
The incense couldn’t mask the fat orc’s stench, not this close and not
after lifting his fat rolls. Brigitte’s
eyes watered, and she took a deep breath through her mouth for relief:the
princess knew that soon wouldn’t be an option though. Slender, delicate hands slid up his
voluminous pants to untie and open them.
Jogarth didn’t seem interested in lifting himself to remove the garment,
so Brigitte had no choice but to reach in to find his member.
A shudder ran down her spine as the backs of her hands collected the
orc’s sweat as she pushed them along his body.
Finally she found the thick snake lurking inside his trousers. She worked it up, and then finally brought it
out to dangle before her. The sight of
it disgusted her; not because of how inhuman it was; she didn’t really have a
frame of reference and was well used to orc members besides; but based on how
disgusting Jogarth was his member was going to be even worse.
All these orc rituals involving
sex are silly and distracting. The
sooner I get this over with, the better; there are far more important things to
be about! After steeling herself,
Brigitte lifted the still flaccid shaft and held it in both hands. She squeezed the twisted base and shook it
lightly, allowing the slanted tip to slap against her fingers. Then she took a deep breath through her mouth
and lowered herself to the tip.
Beside her, the Markoz stepped forward and grabbed the eastern woman,
who gave a delighted squeal as he flipped her around and bent her over. His thick beefy fingers slid between her
legs, and stroked along her mound, rubbing it slowly as he worked up her
arousal. When she began to grow moist,
Markoz alternated between rubbing her sex and smearing the growing juices along
the crack of her ass and into its puckered hole.
“She’s got a tight ass to be sure, Markoz,” Jogarth remarked as
Brigitte worked between her legs, “but I’m surprised you’re not going for her
mouth. Don’t you want to look down at
her exotic features as she takes your cock?”
“A delight to be sure, but I prefer my first glimpse of a new woman to
be from the most important angle.”
Markoz quipped with a chuckle before scooping up some of the eastern
woman’s wetness and spreading it down his cock.
Brigitte bristled as the two orcs spoke as if the women weren’t present
in the room. Markoz wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t
for me! She wrapped her lips around
Jogarth’s slanted tip and took the first inch of his ridged cock into her
mouth. The taste made her want to gag,
so she distracted herself with her litany. It
doesn’t matter though, it’s all for my home.
I accepted this to get their help, and it’s working. I just have to keep going. She had been telling herself that for days
ever since she was captured, and it was true.
Her ordeal meant nothing in the grand scheme of things, as long as she
brought these orcs in on her side.
“I suppose you have a point there.
I imagine I’ll get a chance to see what a royal backside looks like
before the conclave is over!” Jogarth
sniggered again, and his cock began to harden as Brigitte’s warm mouth wrapped
around it and started to suck. He
grunted in satisfaction and began to move his hips, lightly thrusting up
between her lips.
“Once all the tribes start arriving you’ll be too distracted trying to
trade for new women!” Markoz slipped a
finger inside the eastern woman’s pussy and twisted it around, then slid it out
and pressed it against her anus. He
pushed it in without waiting, and it sunk inside the woman’s ass. Though her walls closed snugly around his finger,
he was able to slide it in and out easily, and began working her bottom to
prepare for his cock.
I’m doing it for Sandora, I’m
doing it for Sandora. Brigitte
thought again and again as she slid down the length of Jogarth’s shaft. Her lips circled down the screw shaped
pattern of ridges while her tongue pushed against his meat and rubbed up and
down. I don’t think this is what my mother had in mind when she advised I lie
back and think of Sandora when going to the marriage bed. A perverse giggle erupted from her throat,
just in time to tickle the tip of Jogarth’s shaft as it reached the back of her
mouth.
The cock pulsed against her fingers as she adopted a tighter
squeeze. She began to jerk the base of
it, working her fist up and down as her other hand slipped inside his pants
again to cup and lift his balls. She
rolled the sac across her palm as she pushed all the way down his shaft until
her lips kissed the top of the hand jerking his dick.
A quick glance to her side revealed Markoz already buried in Jogarth’s
woman to the hilt. His hips were
thrusting rapidly as he vigorously buggered the smaller human woman. He
looks as eager to get out of this uncomfortable situation as I am. Though he seems to be rather more enjoying
himself than I she thought with a grimace.
Still, hope dawned on the horizon as she felt Jogarth’s testicles begin
to tense and tighten. Brigitte redoubled
her efforts, sucking furiously and noisily as she sought to get Jogarth
off. No longer trying to distract
herself with her thoughts, she threw everything she had into pleasuring the orc
in order to bring him to climax. She
pushed her lips further and further down, until the slanted tip of his cock was
lodged intoagainst her throat.
The princess’s gag reflex squeezed and tickled the head as she fought
off the urge to vomit, trying to keep him in place long enough to draw out his
cum. She was rewarded moments later as
his shaft began to spurt, coating the back of her mouth with his thick seed.
Jogarth grabbed the back of her head and pulled her forward, suddenly
burying his cock deep in her throat to shoot the rest of his load. “Oh yes!
That’s it!” He cried out in
pleasure as his cum erupted. Her choking
gasps milked his cock as he rode out his climax, eventually spilling the rest
of his seed into her stomach.
Beside him, Markox unleashed guttural grunt as his own climax erupted. Slamming his hips forward, he pushed all the
way into the woman’s backside, making the tight anal walls enclose his cock
entirely as he shot his load. His grip
on her waist tightened, and he moved her back and forth as a cock sleeve to
finish his eruption. “Ah…it’s been a
pleasure doing business with you, Jogarth.
We’ve got great things ahead of us, you and I. Now we just need to get the conclave
underway.”
****
Bonfires lit up the horizon long before Drauken heard the din of the
encampment. It hadn’t taken him long at
all to learn where the orc tribes were congregating. The first merchant outpost he reached in the
March was bustling with the news that Jogarth had called a conclave on Markoz’s
behalf. There hadn’t been such a
conclave since Turrogg tried to unite all the tribes decades ago, and with the
war raging in the Western Kingdoms every orc on this side of the Angrian March
wanted to know what Markoz intended and how they could profit from it.
As he got closer to the camp he began to hear the raucous noise of an
orc gathering. At first it was just the
wild cheering of the crowd. After
traveling another hour he began to hear the clash of steel and cries of pain
beneath the cheers, and an hour after that he heard cries of pleasure as orcs
broke away from the throng to fuck whatever women they could find.
The Battle for Supremacy isn’t
over yet, he thought, that’s
good. I haven’t missed anything yet. Jogarth called the conclave, but it was
Markoz who would set the agenda. In
order to usurp control of the conclave, other tribal leaders would have to
challenge and defeat Markoz in combat.
If they were successful, they could dictate what the conclave would
discuss. If they weren’t, then their
tribes would be forced to support whatever Markoz had called them there to
discuss.
There were numerous other fights going on at the same time, of
course. Whether quarreling over women,
ale or a nice sword; or jockeying for a higher position in a tribe; the surplus
population of orc males were going to be winnowed that night. Drauken pushed his way through the largest
circle of orcs. A pit of fire had been
constructed in the middle, and Markoz was strutting around it, whooping and
shouting as his most recent challenger was dragged away.
He reached out to a nearby human slave girl and grabbed a wineskin and
took a deep drink. Hopefully that’s water, and not wine. When Markoz passed it back to the human,
Drauken did a double take. The beautiful
slave’s skin was still fair, not weather beaten as it got after a few years in
the March. It was also soft, and she
carried herself tall and proud. Instead
of meekly casting her eyes down, she boldly scanned the crowd of orcs, looking
to see if anyone else would step forward to challenge Markoz.
For a moment, their eyes met and he nodded at the Princess. Something flashed in her eye: not
recognition, for they had never met, but something similar. A realization of having seen someone or
something important. He smiled at her,
but before he could make his way over to her a powerful looking orc stepped
between them and broke the line of sight.
He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he saw the orc pull open
her vest and grope her tits. When she
tried to push his hands away, he grabbed her wrists, and held her arms apart to
expose her breasts. A moment later Markoz
returned, and with a grin the new orc released Brigitte and stepped into the
circle.
“I am “Hoschk, of the Regok Tribe!
I thank Markoz for calling together my conclave.” The orc bellowed out, before turning to
Markoz. “Now step aside Markoz, and I
will take control from here. You have
neither the courage, vision, or strength to lead out people. Step aside, or I will crush you here and
now!”
Markoz didn’t even deign to answer, but simply hefted his axe again and
advanced towards the challenger. Markoz
was only required to engage in five contests a night, and he’d already finished
off three others. The boldest orcs always challenged first, but fighting when
the champion was fully rested was the most dangerous. Further, even if you won there might still be
bold warriors who would challenge you in turn.
It was better to wait until the champion was tired from earlier
bouts. This strategy was not without
risk, however. The more exhausted one
got, the wilder and more unpredictable he became. While once the champion might have held back
and showed mercy, now he would make quick, killing strikes to defeat his
foes. Drauken looked at Markoz and saw
that determination in the orc’s eyes. We just have to see if Hoschk has the skill
and patience to stand against him.
The two orcs circled each other warily, their weapons up in a guard
position. Neither feinted at the other,
as both sought to preserve their strength for the contest to come. Drauken’s heart was already pounding, though
in trepidation not in excitement. He had
hoped that the contests would be over.
Instead, the man on whom his whole purpose was resting could be killed
at any moment.
He didn’t know what Hoschk planned for the conclave, but he doubted it
would involve a raid into Zentara.
Drauken eyed Brigitte again, but the princess was watching the fight
intently. He began making his way to
her, skirting the edge of the circle to reach her as fast as possible.
“After I take your head, I’m going to take your new slave. You can watch as I fill her womb with my seed
and plant my son inside her!” Hoschk
grinned ferally at Markoz, but the orc didn’t rise to the bait. His grin sunk into a snarl and he lashed out,
swinging a handaxe at Markoz. As the orc
dodged, Hoschk slashed a second axe diagonally from the other direction.
Markoz caught the second attack with the head of his axe, then kicked
out, forcing Hoschk to jump back. He
quickly charged forward, thrusting the head of the axe at Hoschk to keep him
off balance. As the other orc continued
to step back he swung it in a sweeping arc, trying to knock Hoschk over as he
attempted to dodge.
Instead, the orc leaned back so the axe swing above him, then charged
forward and slammed into Markoz, tackling him to the ground. Hoschk grunted in pain as he took a knee to
the ribs, but still forced himself up to crouch over Markoz. Using the axe’s heft to add weight to his
fist, he punched Markoz, slamming across the jaw with his left hand and then
following up with a blow from his right.
Blood flew out of the orc’s mouth from the impact, and his mind reeled
from the blows to the head. He quickly
threw up his hands to block and began to shimmy backwards, shrimping out from
between Hoschk’s legs. Hoschk raised his
handaxe, hoping to finish Markoz off as he tried to escape. Instead, Markoz jabbed the pommel of his axe
into Hoschk’s sternum, then whipped it around to smash it across his jaw.
Hoschk tumbled off him and rolled away, giving both orcs time to leap
to their feet. They circled each other
warily, with both chiefs dripping blood from their mouths. Markoz was breathing heavily, heavier even
than Hoschk.
Drauken watched in consternation as he made his way to Brigitte. “Your Highness” he addressed the princess,
causing her to start, “I am Master Drauken, a friend from Zentara. Queen Amelie asked me to check in on you.”
“She did?” Brigitte asked in wonder, though she continued to watch the
fight anxiously. “That does sound like
her. But I have everything well in hand
here, Master Drauken. Soon enough we
will be opening a new front in the war.
So please do not even think of proposing to rescue me.”
Drauken stared for a moment, then laughed. “That wasn’t my intent at all, Your
Highness! I actually respect what you’ve
done here. It was a bold move, and one
that I think will work. I want to help
you however I can!”
“Really? Oh no!” Brigitte gasped
as Hoschk ploughed into Markoz again, sending him flying back. Remarkably, Markoz managed to stay on his
feet and threw himself back into the fight.
He began hammering Hoschk hard and fast, pushing his antagonist across
the clearing as he applied pressure.
Brigitte sighed in relief as the momentum in the fight swung in
Markoz’s favor again. “Really? You want to help? I assumed that Queen Amelie sent you here to
rescue me and you thought this plan was insane.”
“Not at all! The orcs can be
persuaded, and a raid into Zentara would draw off their forces, undermine their
defenses, and expose a weakness in Queen Jeanette’s rule. It is a bold plan, and I want to help. I have many contacts with the merchants of
the March. I assume one of their concerns
will be the ability to sell or trade the booty if Zentara is closed. I can reassure them about that. I can also provide some much needed
intelligence on where the Zentaran forces are, where Shropfordshire is
vulnerable, and describe what wealth awaits them if they strike.”
“That would be very helpful,” Brigitte replied steadily, “the more orcs
we can convince the stronger our force will be. Though take care not to make it
sound too easy: the warriors will want some glory in the raid, not just
plunder.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, Oh-!”
Drauken winced as Markoz slammed the butt of the axe into Hoschk’s face,
breaking the orc’s tusk and sending it flying into the bonfire. Hoschk stumbled to one side, but managed to
raise his axe and tab the end of it into Markoz’s stomach as the other orc
tried to capitalize on the moment of weakness.
Although it spoiled his killing blow, Markoz shrugged off the attack,
and lashed out with his foot kicking in at Hoschk’s knee. The other orc cried out as his leg twisted
and fell to the ground. Markoz brought
his knee up under Hoschk’s chin, and the orc’s eyes rolled back as he collapsed
into the dirt, unconscious.
A mighty cheer went up from the orcs.
“Markoz! Markoz! Markoz!”
The victorious chieftain raised the axe above his head and strutted
about, basking in the revelry.
Drauken’s eyes drifted down to the tattoos on Brigitte’s breasts, as
well as the piercings decorating her nipples. By the Abyss it’s alluring to see that on a
Princess! I don’t know why, actually,
since it’s not all that out of place for Zentara. Maybe it’s the fact that’s she Sandoran and
innocent…well, not so innocent now, I suppose.
“How is the war progressing, Master Drauken? I haven’t heard any news since coming here.”
“Queen Amelie bled King Grotok’s army in the Pass, but they have
finally managed to break through.” He
sighed. “I fear the battle with the
Sandoran army in imminent. If it goes
well, then the orcs here will help hem them into Zentara. If it goes poorly...well, perhaps they’ll
withdraw with the orcs threatening Ruar.
The Hesten front is stable, with King Belkor still trapped south of the
Warne. I think King Henry will be able
to hold him there, though we will see about that soon as well. Belkor is also going to be marching too.”
“Then we don’t have any time to lose.
It’s all coming together, and if we want to be a factor in that then we
have to strike quickly.”
“We will. I don’t think anyone
else will be challenging Markoz, and this orc army will move faster than the
ones were used to seeing in the Western Kingdoms. If they strike camp tomorrow you could be at
Shropfordshire in a fortnight!”
With a deep, exhilarating laugh Markoz returned and grabbed Brigitte,
lifting her up and swinging her about as he gave her a kiss. Her loincloth flipped up, flashing her ass to
the cheering crowd of orcs as he held her close. “There’s no one left to challenge me,
Brigitte, and enough of the large clans are now honor bound to support us. Soon, we will be launching the largest orc
raid into a human Kingdom in history!”
“Excellent, my chief, and not a moment to spare. This is Master Drauken, and he has some very
valuable information for us…”
****
The day was dark, and overcast from the Spring rains, but it was
Daniels’ glower that send a violent tremor ran down Jasmara’s spine. The rusty hinges of the kneel door screeched
like a bird of prey intent on capturing its victim, but instead of doom it was
signaling her freedom. At least, it
meant freedom for the moment.
The old footman wasn’t happy about removing Jasmara from her bondage,
at least, not under circumstances leading to further abuse. But Queen Sylvia had called for her, and the
Queen could not be disobeyed. Even with
the sun hidden behind a thick screen of clouds it was too bright for her, and
she had to squint to shield her eyes from the glare.
Soldiers milled about the courtyard of Altengraf castle, and more lined
the walls looking for any sign of her brother’s army. As one looked over to see her being led
towards the main keep, she noticed the lusty, leering glint in his eyes. They bore a hint of familiarity, and she wondered
if he had fucked her. There had been so
many during her captivity that she could no longer keep track of the various
men who had violated her.
That particularly nasty thought was one that had haunted her much of
late. She was by no means a virgin when
she was captured, but she could still have counted her lovers on one hand. Jasmara was something of a rarity at her
mother’s court, more interested in martial training than carnal relations. Despite her gloomy thoughts, she was glad
that Daniels didn’t say anything as they walked. She much preferred the company of her own
thoughts, morose they may be, so the abusive human. Who knew what further revelations he might
have for her?
It’s funny how we always think of
it as my mother’s court, not my father’s.
But then, Turogg wasn’t really my father if Daniels is to be believed. The worst part was, it was easy to believe
him. Everyone knew Jeanette’s
proclivities. Of course, it wasn’t as
bad when Turogg was alive. Maybe I’m just projecting what she is now to
what she was then. She tried to
reassure herself, but her thoughts rang hollow.
People didn’t change, not that much.
The wantonness must always have been in her.
I wonder what he was like, she
thought. Most accounts of the war always
paired Gorath with Katerei, the mercenary captain who trained Queen Amelie in
the art of war. Both left the Western
Kingdoms at the end of the rebellion, disappearing into the March never to be
seen again. Is that part of the story? Did
they get sent away to protect the secret of my conception?
A delightful aroma pulled her from her thoughts. Her stomach rumbled hungrily as she caught
the scent of roasted pork wafting down the narrow stone walls, creating a
sensuous corridor of delight. She picked
up her, straining at the guards’ grasp as she made her way down the hall to
find the source of the delightful aroma.
They brought her to a solar, and for a moment she started as Sylvia
rose to greet her. The pretender Queen
of Heste did look like a younger version of her mother.
“Princess Jasmara, please, sit and share a meal with me.” Sylvia smiled and gestured to the chair
across from her on the table.
The orc princess wondered what sort of cruel trick this was, but the
food was too tempting to pass by. When
the other shoe dropped she intended to have a full belly. Her hand snapped forward to grab a fist full
of pork from the plate, and without a care for the filth on her hand she shoved
it into her mouth and began to devour the meat.
Sylvia watched the display without judgment, her face masked of any
reaction. Instead, she turned her
attention to her own plate, and began to eat slowly and deliberately as Jasmara
had her fill. Her soft hands reached out
to break a loaf of bread, and she dipped it into the juices pooling on her
plate before taking a bite.
After finishing the meat, Jasmara snatched her goblet off the table,
groaning as she drank deeply of the red wine, guzzling it down, swallowing
mouthful after mouthful of the nectar.
When it drained, she put the goblet back on the table, where one of the
serving maids quickly refilled it.
Having taken the edge off her hunger and thirst, she realized what
shocking table manners she just displayed.
Jasmara suppressed the embarrassment, and instead gave Sylvia a defiant
look. “Well? What is it you want? Why have you brought me here?”
“I thought you might like to be let out of that cage. If I was mistaken, say so and you can be
escorted back.”
“It’s out of the goodness of your heart, then?” Jasmara countered. “Forgive me if I find that hard to
believe. I’ve yet to see a drop of
goodness or decency from anyone in your misbegotten ‘Kingdom’.”
“War is hard for everyone, Princess-”
“Don’t feed me that line, Sylvia!
You know what’s been done to me! Can you say the same?”
“Your mother gave me to a brothel when I was half your age.” Sylvia replied with a frosty edge in her
voice and a steely glint in your eyes.
“Your brother did things just as humiliating. Except I couldn’t fight and call it rape, I
had to smile, and acts as if I enjoyed is depredations.”
Jasmara’s angry retort caught in her throat. She couldn’t exactly deny that her brother
had abused and humiliated Sylvia.
Jasmara had always assumed that the woman did it willingly because she was
a harlot, but did they really have that much choice when their clients made
demands? Particularly ones like Sylvia,
who had been forced into the life?
“You also cannot tell me that your own soldiers have never ravished any
women they’ve captured, can you? War IS
hard for everyone, Jasmara. I am sorry
that it has gone poorly for you, but you are not the only one who has
suffered.”
Sylvia’s words gave her pause, and she looked at the Hesten queen more
warily. After a moment though she
relaxed and resumed eating her meal, though this time with the cutlery. “You’re right, of course. Thank you for getting me released from that
cage.” I only wish you had done it sooner, she thought darkly.
“Of course. I hope I can make
the remainder of your stay here more pleasant.
The war will be resuming soon, and the army will be marching. There is no need for you to go with
them. Indeed, it would be much safer to
keep you here, out of harms way.”
And too far away to be rescued or
to attempt an escape, she noted.
“That would be wonderful.”
Jasmara sighed deeply. “To be
honest, I just want this war to end, one way or the other.”
“It will, soon. Henry doesn’t
think it will last another campaign season.
Too much has happened, the forces are too deeply committed to avoid a
decisive battle now.”
Jasmara thought that Sylvia’s expression suggested she wasn’t entirely
sure who would come out on top, which was reassuring to her. From everything she had experienced so far it
seemed like the human kingdoms were winning.
But maybe something has happened
elsewhere? I can’t be too obvious about my questioning, though…“Do you know if
my family is alright? Have you heard any
news of them?”
“Your brother Belkor is fine, at least for the moment. Grotok and your nephew are-” Sylvia stopped herself from saying more, and
instead finished with, “-still fine. I
haven’t heard any reports suggesting any member of your family has been
harmed.”
“My nephew? Which one?” Jasmara wracked her brain, trying to think of
which of her nephews would be campaigning with Grotok. Does
she mean one of Agmar’s bastards?
“Trogar’s son, Augras, he-”
“Augras? Augras is dead!” He was lost at sea years ago!” Jasmara spat out angrily. She had been quite fond of her nephew before
he left on his exploration of the seas, never to return.
“You didn’t hear during your brief escape attempt? Augras has returned, and brought a small army
of monsters from the southern continent with him. He, well, it is difficult to explain, and
harder to believe. Apparently he learned
some sort of magic there, and has used it to great effect. He-”
Sylvia stopped herself again, not wanting to give too much away.
Jasmara reeled in show at the revelation. Augras
is alive? He’s alive! For the first
time since her escape she felt a surge of hope and happiness. “H-how is that possible? What do you mean magic?” All of a sudden the wellspring of hope began
to dry up. Magic? What is she talking
about? Is it a trick?
“I don’t fully understand it myself, no one does. But the results are undeniable.” Sylvia leaned forward. “I hope that is some comfort to you.”
The expression on Sylvia’s face confused her for a moment, before
Jasmara realized that the Hesten Queen was thinking that Augras was likely to
die in the war. With these strange
powers there is no way he could be allowed to live. For
that matter, I’m not even sure they will let me live when this is all over. For a moment, she thought about reaching
across the table and strangling Sylvia right there, though that would be a poor
way to repay the woman’s hospitality.
If Augras truly does have some
sort of magic, and monsters no less, perhaps we’ll win this war after all. I just need to stay alive until then. “Thank you, Your Highness.” She replied, grudgingly giving Sylvia her
title. “It is kind of you to share that
news with me, it does-”
The loud blast of a horn interrupted her, followed shortly thereafter
by two more. “Your brother’s army has
been spotted, Princess. Perhaps this
will be settled even sooner than we expected."
No comments:
Post a Comment