The Slave Assassin Chapter 26

October 12, 2024 / posted in Chapter Book, Stories, Uncategorized / No Comments

Thank you for reading this far in the Chronicles of the Midlands.  Last chapter was Chapter 25.

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Laun could tell she was in a yurlodge, tied and blindfolded.  She hurt and knew she had been roughly handled after she had gone into the greyness, the stone floor under her not as smooth as one might think as it put pressure on her hip and shoulder. She had been able to stay still when she woke, the men she could hear talking among themselves, though it was frustrating as they were speaking a mixture of languages and she caught one or two words as she lay there, but not enough to know what their intentions were.

She tried not to smile.  She was bound and blindfolded, the bruises on her arms hurting under the rope, her head hurting from whatever they had forced her to drink.  She could hear the desert wind against the canvas of the yurlodge, the scuttling of a small animal close to her on the stone floor.  She could smell her own blood, but above that, flowers and men.

The remainder of her male disguise was ripped and bunched on her.  Sweat was soaking the padding around her middle, but that had been a problem even before she had been captured.  The glue that had held the whiskers on had pulled and torn her skin when they had started to fight her, pulling on her beard, finding that it was not real.  Then finding she was not a man.  Laun was happy she had cut her hair to helmet length, the shortness keeping them from dragging her around by her scalp.  Not that it kept them from beating on her before they had forced the drug into her.  She did get in some good shots before they had subdued her. »Read More

The Slave Assassin Chapter 25

May 25, 2023 / posted in Chapter Book, Stories / No Comments

Back to chapter 24

Followed from a marketing link?  Check out the start of the story in The Slave Warrior, Chapter 1

 

It had been days since the Princess had taken uniform and horses to start for Lieutenant DuMonde’s ship.

The entire Rosemond military had been put on alert.  They were looking for her Highness in a Midlands military uniform, short hair and one, possibly two horses.  A messenger on a fast horse was sent to Lieutenant Beau DuMonde’s ship, just in case she had headed to the port city.  She had enough of a head start that she might get to the ‘Twilights Gold’ a day before the messenger.  The Royal Guard at the estate was on alert because of the direct attack on his Majesty in his quarters, looking for anything that was out of place.

Two days out, one of the horses that was missing and presumed taken by Princess Laun was found.  It had fallen into a hidden ravine on the plateau and was dead.  It was in a direction that was almost directly North of the Royal Estate, not South towards the ship.  No indication that it had been saddled or that her Highness had ridden it at all.

Three days out, an attempt was foiled on Ifhyed.  The thrown dagger that took down the dark above fair woman hit her in the throat, her own dagger dropping as she gurgled through her fingers.  It was a common Rosemond dagger, one that could have been from any one in the Kingdom.  The person who threw the killing shot was never found, the dessert being as mysterious as it ever was before Ifhyed and Edgar had gone for a walk.

Four days passed and word from the Capitol City of Rosemond was that there were several women who were being detained because of their similarity to the Princess.  None of them had a cut flower on her breast.  They had all been in the Red Scarf enclave, exotics brought in from the Midlands for the pleasure of the Rosemond men.

Five days from her disappearance and several bodies were found in a little-used storage room.  They had been tortured before their throats had been slit.  There were three sword and crow blades in the room, wrapped in cloth as if for transport.  All of the bodies had the bruise-mark of the Peaches.  None of the Peaches admitted to doing it.

Seven days out, the second horse came walking back to the stable, the saddle and pack still on it’s back, sores on it’s hide.  The uniform was rolled up and in one of the packs.  It had never been worn.

“She must be here.”

The statement lay where it landed.  Lord Edgar, Royal Companion and Master Peach, sat on the edge of the low couch, his elbows digging into his own thighs as he held his head.  Jost, the Captain of the Royal Guards, shook his head, but it was not disbelief on his face.  Ifahyd sat in a chair, his body tense and positioned so that he would not touch any around him.  Peaches and officers and a few trusted servants and concubines were in the courtyard, available, but not privy to what the men were talking about.

They had gathered when the horse had been found in the stables.  The emptied Royal Estate had been having a string of odd occurrences, and now the men knew it had been Laun.  They didn’t know why, or how to get ahold of her.

Ifahyd motioned to the courtyard and said, “The note said she was doing it to protect us.  There are more of us than there are of her.  Shouldn’t we have been protecting her?”

Edgar had a small sneer of a smile before he looked up, his face dropping slightly as he looked at the red, worried eyes of his new Love.  “Five bodies that we know of since she disappeared into the Estate.  We don’t know how many others she might have taken, or scared off.”  He reached and Ifahyd took a moment before lightly touching the palm of Edgar’s hand with fingertips.  “Being invisible let her keep you alive.”

The Rosemond King’s head twitched away from looking at Edgar.  “Alive.  What kind of ruler am I to let her put herself in harm’s way for me?”

Before Edgar could respond, Jost said, “It is what we do every day, your Majesty.”

Ifahyd nodded and had a pained expression on his face as he said, “It is your job.  She...  I know she has done...  I promised her that she would be safe here and she has been my safety since arriving.”  He dropped his head and his hand, looking at the carpet.  “I love her and I had hoped-”  He looked up at Edgar and had a horrified expression on his face.

Edgar had a cold flash go through him.  The feelings he was developing for this older man could not compete with what he held for Laun.  The possessiveness that he knew he had for Laun would not work in any situation.  She made people try to help her, want to keep her.  She did not see what she did to people, at least she did not seem to.

The silence between the men hung for a while longer.  Edgar knew that they were just going around the same course, not gaining anything and not resolving anything.  He raised a hand, a sign bringing several of the Peaches in from the courtyard.  There was a set to his jaw and the look that went along with just one sign sent the Peaches out again.

“Edgar?”  Ifahyd looked up and could not fathom what his Love had just communicated in such a small gesture.

Edgar shook his head.  He opened his hand to the King and held it palm up to him.  There was another hesitant moment before Ifahyd put fingertips on the Midlands man’s palm.  “Something I had thought of when she left.  Seemed to have left.  I hope it will bring her out.”

The brooding quiet shifted, becoming heavy, not companionable.  Ifahyd grasped Edgar’s hand before leaning back into the chair again.  He watched the younger man but could not see below the worry that was over his face.  Not just him, but Edgar was the one the King was worried about himself. The patience of the man was not endless, and Edgar seemed to be wearing down.

The Captain of the Royal Guards stood, asking to be dismissed with a small bow.  Ifahyd nodded and looked through the repaired window into the courtyard.  It was as quiet out there as it was in his room, though the Peaches, as he found Laun’s people called themselves, were quietly talking, mostly with the others who had gathered.  Some small smiles passed between one of the men who followed Laun and one of Ifahyd’s favorite concubines.  Aster was beautiful and had been under the King more often than any other red scarf on the Estate since he had arrived a few years before.  It had been easy for Ifahyd to take the boy, both physically and emotionally.  There was something about him that made the King relax and be comfortable.

Ifahyd pulled his eyes off the lightly tanned young thing and back to the man still beside him.  Completely different, and yet, Ifahyd found that Edgar brought out something that he had not known he had missed.  The wicked humor of Ithian came to mind, making Ifahyd smile and look away from the Midlander.  The eyes of his Beloved were never to open again, the same regret of not naming him Prince Consort that had hovered in his heart since word of his death making the time he had been with his Cousin bitter sweet.

There was a shift in the people in the courtyard, the flapping of wings bringing Ifahyd’s attention from the past to the now.  To the child Ithian had sired, and given to Aunt Engrid to turn into an assassin.  Baza had one of the small kestrels he raised in his aviary on her wrist, a wrap of leather helping the small bird to hold on as it perched there on the metal cuff.  Baza was stroking the bird with her remaining fingers on her other hand, the bird having reacted to something going past.

Silar came into the room from the courtyard with a small wooden cage.  Several small grey birds with blue flashes were within, agitated and flapping as he presented them to Edgar.  The Lord Salam-Dir and Master Peach took the cage and grimaced before nodding at the dark man.

“Doves?”

Edgar shook his head slightly.  “Pigeons.  Nigel had seen that these three seemed to pine every time Laun left for more than a few days from the household.  One of them found it’s way to the Capitol City and to Laun once.  It had never been there before, but found her.”

There was a chuckle from the King.  “I have never heard of pigeons that homed to a person, not a place.”

Silar had not left and nodded, saying, “Only our Mistress...”

Edgar nodded and stood, holding the cage carefully.  “I should do this outside.”

The courtyard seemed to clear, the people waiting going to the edges, or into the surrounding rooms.  Edgar, kneeling on the sand covered tile, placed the wooden cage on a stone bench and waited for the birds to settle down before opening up the door.  There was a small flap from inside before one of the pigeons popped out and sat on the edge, looking around with it’s blue eye, bobbing it’s head and making soft sounds.

Baza had the tether of the kestrel in her hand, but had to go inside the building.  The hunting bird had not focused on anything but the cage and birds since it had passed by, the thought of possibly the only way to track and trace Laun being hunted themselves disquieting.

The other birds had to be brought out, their forms easily surrounded by Edgar’s hands as he put them on the top of the cage.  There was flapping, but the birds crowded each other as they perched on the wood slats, not seeming to want to fly.  Edgar moved back and watched with the rest of the people in the courtyard as the birds settled, preening themselves and each other.

There was then a small movement and a flurry of wings and noise as the three birds lifted themselves up into the cloudless blue sky.  They circled the courtyard and were gone from sight.

“We have people throughout the Estate.  If she is here, they will find her.”

It was anti-climatic as one of the birds came circling back, leading the others to sit on a small ledge under the roof over the edge of the courtyard.  Edgar’s head went down and there was a sob he did not catch.

“We will find her.”  Ifahyd stood next to the younger man and gently put a hand on his arm.  “We both want her safe in our arms, Love.”

Edgar nodded and turned, a slight hesitation before he wrapped himself around the monarch of Rosemond, the need to be comforted pushing the heat and embarrassment to the side right then.

There was a clearing of a throat.  The Captain of the Royal Guards for the Estate was back, the dresser Velma in front of him.  “Majesty, this woman says she has a message for you.”

The lost nail stepped forward, a genuflection and a bowed head before she looked into Ifahyd’s eyes.  “Mistress Peach wishes you to meet her at the new hole in the servant’s way.”

There was movement in the courtyard and the rooms beyond.  Edgar held tight to Ifahyd as the King looked up at him.  Ifahyd was confused, but nodded.  “We should go.  But where is it?”

Captain Jost bowed his head slightly.  “I think I know what hole she means.  It appeared the same day she left.”  His eyes were narrow, thinking that he might have just missed her in the servants ways of the Estate that day.

The King and his Love relaxed a little, stepping away from each other, but still holding hands.  The group that left with the Captain of the Guards in the lead was not small, but not everyone who had been in the courtyard was in the group.  And not everyone who left was with the King.  It took some time to weave through the corridors and courtyards, into places Ifahyd had never been.

Jost motioned to the hole in the plaster wall, Edgar shaking his head and grimacing at the repairs that needed to be done.  Laun was not there.  The guards and Peaches looked around, went into the hole and searched the close hidden ways.  A small casket was found, a grey ribbon with one of Laun’s gold peachpit charms on the end tied around it.

Edgar unlatched the casket and hesitated.  He did not know what would be in a message drop such as this, but they had been used for missions before.  He also hesitated because he was not sure if it was trapped.  Edgar pushed the lid up and found several pieces of pulp paper.

“A map.  She has had this thing about accurate maps since the coup.  If it is in here, it is accurate.”  Edgar looked at the notations and saw where she meant them to go.

The Captain took the map and looked at it. “I do not know these ways.  They do not look familiar.”

It was passed through hands to many there until Edgar had it in his hands again.  “It looks dark in there.  Lanterns?”

Supplies were easily found and a small group started through the mapped ways behind the walls.  Some of the Peaches thought they saw where there were other entrances marked on the map and went to see if they could go through from another way.  Guards and Peaches stayed by the hole, guarding and thinking of who Mistress Peach could have been following through such passages.

It was dusty and dirty and close in the mid-afternoon heat of the high plateau.  The building was built to be breezy and have good airflow to keep the inside cool.  Between the walls had not felt those breezes since they had been built.  Trying to go through unfamiliar passages while on a type of a hunt made the still, close air even warmer and stifling as the group went through.  Edgar saw a room off of several cross corridors that they were heading for drawn on the map.  He hoped that was where Laun was so he could...  Edgar was not sure what he wanted to do with her right then, but he wanted to do everything to her when he found her.

There seemed to be a solid wall that was in front of them.  The narrow passage did not end, but it turned and went further beyond the map that had been drawn.  Silar pushed through and started to lightly draw his fingers down what looked like a support beam.  Edgar moved and saw there was a flash of light from a seam along the beam.  Silar found the holding catch and pushed.

It was a small room that had been created from the different constructions through the years.  It was oddly shaped, a long area with an angled wall that was the passage they were coming from.  A few odd alcoves with curtains across them.  Light from above from an open part of the building, but not directly overhead.

Edgar was pushed into the room by those behind him.  He looked around and thought he saw movement from one of the alcoves.  “Laun?”

There was a cracked laugh that chilled most there.  “Lost your whore?”

There was quiet as the curtain was pushed back with a dry, old hand.  A figure who had been mourned by some at her passing stepped forward, another figure behind her holding the curtain for himself.  Lady Engrid stood before them, weak, but not dead.  Aster, covered in cobwebs and dirt from the inner ways stood behind her.

Another hidden door opened in another part of the odd room.  A man that only a few of the Peaches had seen before was in front of the people who had decided to try another way.  Bririn had unmistakable hate on his swarthy features, the click of a knife being slid from a holster loud in the crowding room.

Engrid turned and had a slight surprise on her face.  “You?  I hear you have claimed my title without completing the warrant, Bririn.  You are still not ready.”

There was a small, almost childlike voice from behind Edgar, saying, “Enny?  Aunt Enny?  How...?”

Lady Engrid laughed, the sound discordant and made hairs raise on the backs of necks.  “As if you had any concept of how the world worked, you pampered idiot.”  She wavered slightly and Aster held her elbow.

Ifahyd stepped from the seeming protection of Edgar and looked at his Great Aunt and his favorite Companion.  His voice was steadier, but the confusion was easy to hear as he said, “You have been planning...  You have...  We are...  Fili del burattino per essere tirati, Prozia.  Eh.”  His voice was stronger as he let his confusion out.  “What did you hope to gain from playing us like this?”

She smiled, not a nice smile.  “Revenge for your Father taking what should have been mine.”  She turned to Edgar and quickly looked at the people around him before looking searingly at him again.  “Where is the little whore, anyway?  If she hadn’t been thrown in front of my plans, I would have been Queen of the Midlands by now!”

Edgar was not given a chance to respond as Bririn stepped closer.  “Mistress, I claim your title, by right of Brotherhood laws and-”

“You dare?”  Her voice filled the room, quieting all there.  She swung to face the Blue Pretender and pointed at him.  “You ran to Silver when I could not teach you any more.  You do not complete your missions and you are not fit for the Guild.”  She reached into a pocket of her robe and a signet ring was in her thin fingers.  “You don’t have the nerve to be Blue.”  She threw the Duchess ring at him, one of the pearls cracking when it hit the hard-packed dirt floor.

Bririn knew it was the one that he had given back to Laun at their meeting.  He had held it often enough to know the form, wincing as the powder of pearl scattered in the dust of the hidden room.  He ignored it and set his jaw before saying, “You have been Blue for too long, Mistress.  You have lost what you-”

She cackled.  “I have lost nothing.”

There was the sound of more people coming through yet another hidden passageway to the hidden room.  Estate guards and Peaches blocked that way out, the form of Aster jumping slightly as he steadied Blue Master.  His eyes went to the King’s, a knowing smile on his dirt-smeared lips.

Ifayhd felt his world crumbling.  His Aunt was alive, and behind the assassination attempts that had driven Laun from him.  His favorite companion was at her side, had to have been given to him to...  The King could not think of that, but it went through his mind unbidden.  He had been here to get information and possibly to get close enough to kill Ifahyd.  Could have at any time they had...  His Midlands Rose had protected him, had led him to this confrontation.  He felt his legs want to slip out from under him and grabbed onto the tunic of his new Love, the arm of Edgar going around him to support him before his body failed.

It was not a strong voice that came out, but it was a decisive one.  “Take Engrid into custody.  And her spy.”

There was a scuffle in the small space, blood being spattered into the dust as Aster tried to push himself between Blue Master and the others, but it was only his nose that had been broken before a coil of silken rope was deftly wound around his hands and arms, Wanda sitting on him as Engrid was bodily carried into the dark underways of the Royal Estate.  Her voice was stronger than it should have been as she called out epithets and curses upon Ifahyd.

The King was unsteady, but led the way through the passage they had gone through, his step certain even in the gloom.  They found the hole in the plaster wall, the word of what they had found spreading quickly to those still waiting at the hole.

A hand was on Edgar’s arm, a need in the older man’s face obvious, but needing to be said.  “Lord Edgar, I...  May I accompany you back to your yurlodge?”

Edgar nodded.  He held the man with him as they walked and glanced back as he heard from one of the Peaches, “Where is Laun?”  A dark flash went through him as he could not answer that simple question.

 

Onto Chapter 26, Where Laun fights being captured

The Slave Assassin Chapter 24

March 21, 2023 / posted in Chapter Book, Stories / No Comments

I hope you have enjoyed this series.  If you have please consider tribute.

Back to Chapter 23      Beginning of the story in The Slave Warrior

She knew they would be able to not just survive but thrive without her.  Watching from the shadows of one of the empty rooms off the courtyard had confirmed that to her.

Laun turned and followed the Lost Nail back out of the room.  She was not used to the padding, but thought she moved convincingly as she followed the woman.  It was the loincloth with the extra weight that threw her, not the padding around her waist that caught her more than once.

“How do men walk with these things?” Laun whispered.  She heard the giggle of the dresser and kept following, going past several small groups of servants and guards who gave them little more than a glance.

They were inside the servant’s ways before Laun talked again, and even then in a low tone that only Velma could hear.  “Is it always that lax, or is it because most of the residents are gone?”

The dresser waited for a moment to make sure they were alone before leaning against the rough plaster wall and saying softly, “The servants never really have had anyone look at them.  The slaves are never seen by the nobles as they work in the pits and the gardens at night.  The concubines walk around at any hour, either going to or coming from the things they do.  The guards...  They hardly even look at each other most of the time.”

Laun went to scratch her chin and stopped herself, remembering the false whiskers that had been glued on.  “It is not right that the security is that bad.  With most of the people who had been here gone...”  Laun sighed and shifted, feeling her false testes bunch up on her inner thigh.  “I am obsessing, but my own life has been on the line for him ever since I arrived.”

Velma nodded.  “He does not know how many of the grey have been here, both with and against him.  I carry many messages, some that will not be delivered because your people are very good at what they do.”

Laun grimaced.  “I want to know, but I will not make you violate your oaths.”  She saw the nod and said, “Thank you again for taking me in and helping me.”

The lost nail smiled.  “Mistress, I serve my King, and I serve him through you.  I don’t know what you intend to accomplish, but I will help you as I can.”  She pushed herself from the wall and started towards another room.  “The information I travel with feathers away like flowing sand.  I know some things others do not, and I hold that until it is right.  I have made oaths, yes, Mistress.  I have also promised to use what I know when it is right.”

Laun squinted at the back of the woman, getting an uneasy feeling at the phrasing.  She could not back out of the direction she had started, her hair and life being left in the yurlodge.

The servants area within the rambling Royal Estate was as neglected as the underbelly of the Palace in the Midlands.  Laun had been on a campaign to fix the obvious problems within her own Palace, her brain started to itch seeing the same within Ifahyd’s home.  She saw walls that should have been torn down to repair them years ago.  She saw where water came in from the roof every time it rained, even though that was seldom.  She followed a crack along the wall they were passing to get to where the lost nail was bringing Laun, the distress of the sagging timbers slowing her pace.  It led her eyes to an opening that should not have had eyes on the other side.

Laun stopped.  She saw the eyes blink and then a sound behind the wall as the person moved through the wall.  They had been brown eyes in a lightly tanned face.  There had been dark purple accents drawn on the eyes, a small fleck of a gem placed on the cheek.  Eyes that Laun almost recognized.

Laun tapped on the wall below the opening, hearing the rotten hollowness behind.  Velma stopped at the sound and turned, seeing the direct way Laun was tapping along the bowed plaster until she found what she was looking for.  There was a gasp as Velma watched Laun ball herself up and slam her shoulder into the wall, a large indentation breaking the wall further.  The hit was all that was needed.  Laun stepped back and watched as the section of wall below and then above the crack collapsed and fell to the warped wood floor.

“You shouldn’t-”  Laun held up a hand and leaned into the hole and then back out again.  No one was there.  They could have gone any of three ways when the eyes had disappeared.

“How many of these wall ways are there?”

Velma seemed nervous and shook her head.  “I don’t know what-”

Laun turned and moved her shoulder, feeling the bruise that would be there soon.  “Don’t start lying now.  Keeping things from me because of your oaths is different from outright lying.”

The lost nail looked at the hole and stepped away from it slightly.  “I know of some.  The Estate has been built onto so often that they just happened.”  Velma turned away and wanted to leave, looking like the hole in the wall was a cave entrance into a beasts lair.

Laun took some pity on her.  She moved away from the wall and started following, but pushed with a rumble, “Where are the entrances to these-”

An intersection had a few guards and a servant just around the corner.  Laun stopped speaking but thought it was too late.  Velma wanted to go down the intersection’s corridor but the men were blocking the way.  Purposely blocking the way.

Laun could not understand most of what the rough men said.  She understood the shrinking way Velma stepped back towards where they had come, her head down and soft words from her to the men.  Laun tried to step away, but the servant went to block.

There was laughter from the men.  Velma shook her head and motioned past them, Laun hearing Ifahyd’s name in what she said.  They shook their heads with disbelief, either real or feigned.  Laun did not need the translation as the largest of the men grabbed his cock through his loose pants, his voice with a dangerous rumble.

They were outnumbered.  They were out massed.  Laun could not drop her facade to get past them, Velma starting to look both panicked and calm, the situation seemingly common for her.

Laun pushed her rumble as she said, “Damn the Envoy for not making me learn this fucking language.”

One of the Guards looked at Laun and stared at her for a moment.  Laun did not back down and looked him in the eye.  “You one of the Midlands whore’s troupe?”  The other men laughed.

Laun nodded her head and went to scratch her chin, finding the whiskers there.  She stroked along the fuzz and said, “She doesn’t pay well, but the benefits are good.”

Laun laughed along with the other men.  Laun put her arm around Velma’s shoulder, making her jump slightly.  The familiar way Laun’s hand went around the dresser brought a lewd eye from one of the men, the servant a slightly puzzled expression.

“Please, we need to get through.”

The servant raised an eyebrow and said in a thick accent, “Ya’ lookin for place ta be ‘lone?”

Laun shook her head and said, “I wish.  Been working on her since we were assigned together.  We are in search- well can’t get into that, but we are here because the King was attacked in his quarters.”

One of the guards blinked, the other men shrugged.  “From what we hear, it won’t be his quarters for very much longer.”  There were looks between the men, the guard who had blinked looking down and flushing slightly.

“Eh.  Not my concern.  If I don’t get through, the Princess will have my head.  You know what she did to the assassin last night.  That was quick for her.”

There was a shiver from one of the men, the servant looking confused.  He looked closer at Laun, his eyebrow going up again.

“We need to go-”  The lost nail didn’t have a chance to finish as one of the Guards stepped to her and put his hand on her breast, right below Laun’s hand.

Laun tried to push her rumble, feeling her voice try to crack as she said, “Hey!  None of that!  She was taking me to where I needed to go.”

“Just a few minutes won’t matter-”

Laun felt herself move before she could stop herself.  Her finger was pointed at the Guard, her arm pulling Velma to in back of her.  “A few minutes more could mean the life of your King.  You may not be concerned with that, but with assassins everywhere, your own life may be on the line before you know it.  Put your cock back in your pants and do your duty, cugino, before one of those assassins comes along and cuts it off!”

The Guard pulled himself up and started to say, “Little man, you have no right-”

There was a loud noise from the corridor that Laun and the lost nail had come from.  There was swearing and Laun recognized the voice of the Guard Captain.  So did one of the Guards.

Laun started to push through the men, saying, “Fuck it!  Now you got us all in trouble!”

There was just enough confusion to let Laun push and pull her way through, dragging Velma with her.  The women were almost to the next intersection when they heard a yell from behind, a call to halt.

Laun did not know the lay out of the place.  She had been depending on the lost nail.  They had been trying to get to one of the gathering places of the servants so that Laun could see them in their own space, without the nobles around.  That was not going to happen.  Velma looked around at the walls and doors they were passing as they ran, the heavy steps of the armored men behind them.

“Here.”  Laun swung herself into the space and put her hand over her mouth to keep the instant cough from the disturbed dust from coming out.  The footsteps went past and Laun didn’t feel safe, even with the darkness of the hidden way around her.

Minutes passed before Velma pushed on the wall slightly and looked out.  The corridor was clear.  The two moved out of the wall and down the corridor, towards where the guards had gone.  The lost nail looked at the walls again and found another place.  It was easy to open the wall, but it would not close completely from inside.

“It will have to do.  Through here and around, we can get to the servant’s quarters.  They may look for us there, though.”

Laun shrugged.  “I want to change my clothing so they don’t recognize me.”

The dresser nodded.  She motioned and they went away from the light from the crack in the wall.  Laun could smell the disuse of the place, a web catching on her face as they passed another crack in the wall.  She tried to brush it off of her whiskers as they went, not knowing if she had been able to move it.  They were heading towards a slightly red light growing in the wall way, the smell of people and work sweat heavy in the air.

There were voices, speaking various languages.  Velma paused, until the closest of the voices moved away, and pushed on the wall.  It opened into an alcove partially obscured by a timber column.  They moved into the alcove, closed the door and brushed each other off.  Laun knew that if Velma looked like she had crawled through a cemetery, she would look the same.  It could not be helped.

The lost nail motioned and Laun followed her into the midst of the servant’s quarters.  It seemed like it was a hodge-podge of walls and curtains and discarded things with various levels of servants moving and lounging among the sections.  Laun looked around and saw that it used to be a courtyard, a large one that had been roofed in at some point.  Few of the servants glanced towards the two, none followed with their eyes.  Laun could not see any differentiation between the servants in rank, even though there was a regimented feeling when they were in service to the nobles and their King.

Many of the alcoves seemed bare.  Many of the servants had left, taking their few possessions with them.  Some of the servants that were left were scouting the newly available areas and were moving themselves into better places.  Velma pulled back a curtain and seemed relieved that it revealed a fairly full almost-room.

“Afraid your stuff was going to disappear?”  The lost nail nodded as a few things were moved from the cot.  Velma motioned to the only seating which was also her bed before starting to pull on a stack of formless fabric.  Laun still had the Guard’s treatment of them on her mind and had to ask, “How often do you get raped?”

That stopped Velma.  She seemed to twitch before lowering her arms and squatting on the worn wooden floor.  Her head went down and there was a big sigh.  “Too often.  I am just a servant.  I do not have the luxury of saying no as you do.”

Laun smirked.  “Very few have heard me say no.”

It was supposed to be a joke, but it just made the frown on the woman’s face deepen.  “You do have a reputation.  It still isn’t the same.”  Velma looked up into the disguised face of Laun and shook her head.  “Almost every day I have to submit to them.  If it wasn’t for my training, I don’t think I would be able to endure.”

Laun did and didn’t understand.  She had been sheltered, protected for most of her life.  She had been forced several times, but never violently by complete strangers. Well, there were the Rosemond bandits, but she had been able to get her own out of them.  She could not imagine what Velma had to go through just to exist in the Royal Estate.  “I am glad for your training.  I promise I and mine would never force you to have sex if you do not want.”

There was a twitch in the older woman’s lip.  “That is kind of you.”

Laun heard the hurt and sarcasm.  She leaned back and did not press the issue.  “How many servants used to be on the Estate?”

Velma took a moment before she stood, turning to the clothing she had in her little area.  She draped a few things over her shoulder and then turned to Laun.  “It changes with how many nobles are here.  Before they all left, I would say about 300 servants, most having been brought in by others.”

Laun looked at the white and beige thing being held out to her.  She stood and took it, the lost nail’s hands going to what Laun was wearing to take it off.  “It feels like there are maybe fifty servants left.  Is that the core to the Estate?”

Velma nodded.  She concentrated on quickly taking the male clothing off of Laun so that the new outfit could go on.  The dirty stuff was used to wipe dust and cobwebs off of Laun and Velma before it was pushed under the cot.  The headwrap came off and Laun felt a chill on the back of her neck, a lightness of her head that made her smile.  She had always had long hair.  It was trimmed when she was a dancer to just below shoulder length and after the coup, she had let it grow.  Her fingers went into her helmet length hair and felt it barely touch her second knuckle as she scratched her scalp.

The dresser changed Laun’s disguise efficiently.  The breasts were strapped down harder, Laun’s nipples protesting even with the cotton fluff that had been put around the rings.  The borrowed manhood was strapped better into place, the roll of fabric and the two small lemons being pushed forward in the secondary loincloth.  The new pants and tunic went over the padding that made Laun look less feminine, reminding her of a few of the pudgier wards back in Salam-Dir.  A flatter cap was on her head, not a wrap, her hair showing around the edges.

Velma stepped a little back in the small space and nodded.  Her head went up, the small smile she had disappearing.  Laun heard the footsteps, too.  It was the heavy, booted footsteps of the guards.

“I am sorry for this.”

The lost nail looked confused and then yelped as Laun turned the woman around and pushed her into the wooden column that was part of one of the walls of the small space.  Laun pulled up the skirts on the woman and positioned herself behind as if she was having a push and sigh.  Laun held Velma against the wall with her body, her arm up and leaning against the wood to block her face.  Velma was not sure what was happening and struggled, gasping and making Laun have to press harder to get her to stay against the wall.

The Guard Captain pulled back the curtain and said something Laun almost could translate.  Laun grunted and brokenly got out, “Vaffan, uh, culo!  Merda testa-ahhh!”  The sleeve of the beige tunic started to slip and Laun moved her other arm to hold the sleeve up to cover her scars.

There was a laugh and the Guard Captain dropped the curtain, the men going on to search the mostly empty servants quarters.  Velma had stopped struggling when she realized that Laun was creating a diversion, turning her own head away from the curtain as if she was embarrassed being caught.  The women held still for a moment, the things thrown over Velma’s shoulder slipping off and to the floor.  Laun kissed Velma on the cheek and pulled away, letting the woman go.  The Princess in disguise stayed by the wall and let out as good of an imitation of Edgar as she could, pounding on the wall with her fist for emphasis.

They could hear another round of laughter from further down the randomly built and claimed space.  Velma held her hand over her mouth and giggled as she watched Laun rearrange the borrowed men’s garb, a flip of a finger towards the guards making them both smile.

“You think quick.”

Laun bowed, sweeping her hand in an arc as she had seen several of the envoys in the various courts do.  “Thank you, Sister.”  Laun stood and smiled lopsidedly as she said, “I just wish I really knew what he said.”

Velma motioned with her head towards the curtain and Laun looked out, making sure no one was there.  They were alone, a nod from Laun before the lost nail would speak.

“He wanted to know where we had been.  Calling him a shit head might have been a bit much.”

Laun looked confused.  “I was trying to call him a dirt bag.  At least it got it across.”  Laun leaned against the wall and started thinking.  She watched the other woman clean up the things that had been moved and dropped.

It was not going to be as easy to blend in as she had thought, even with the help of the lost nail.  She did not know the languages and that was becoming a problem.  She smiled at the thought that she had become more of a eunuch in taking even the semblance of manhood between her legs, ineffectively using it to help keep her from being discovered.  Liam had offered to have a harness with one of the glass phalluses made for her, Laun declining at the time.  She would have to seek it out, now.  The thought of her being the holder of the cock while having sex...

Velma was looking at her with an odd expression.  Laun looked around, listening to see if there was anyone around.  “What were you thinking about?  You...  You had such a wistful and far away expression just now.”

Laun shrugged.  “Velma, my mind wanders.  I was just thinking I need one of those Rosemond glass cocks in a harness.”

The lost nail looked away and did not look back before she said, “So you can rape as you will, too.”

Laun wanted to hold the woman, take her and let he know that she was safe, that whatever had happened in the past would not happen while Laun was around her.  Laun crossed her arms over her strapped down chest and shook her head.  Laun’s voice naturally dropped as she said, “I use sex to break people when I need information.  I use sex to reward those with me, as they wish it.  I use sex as a tool and for pleasure.  I would not use such a tool without...consent of the person I was with.  I have no reason to force myself on you.  Do not put that label on me.”

Velma sobbed and still would not look up.  She sat on the edge of her cot, looking at the floor.  “Highness, I apologize.  I am feeling raw with everything that has been happening since you have been here.  Almost being caught in the corridor-”  She looked up and Laun nodded, encouraging her to continue.  “At least I am not a slave.  They can’t even make excuses to try to get away.”

That hit Laun hard.  “I have been a slave.  Not as a disguise.”

Velma looked away again.  “I had heard, but I thought it was just the nobles trying to bring you down.  You have so many conflicting reputations, I don’t know what to believe.”

Laun pulled the cuff of the tunic up.  “Is this the pale, soft skin of a noble-grown woman?”

Valma looked.  She had seen the scars, had heard that the Princess had fought in battles, had heard the Mistress had been on missions.  “Pechere, no.”

“Pech...  What?”

Velma smiled.  “Peach in my native language.”

Laun relaxed and dropped her arms to her sides.  “Great, another language to learn.”

The women quietly laughed.

 

Chapter 25 awaits, where intrigue comes to a peak

Variations on a theme

February 3, 2023 / posted in Stories / No Comments

Variation 1

This is my initiation. I am to prove myself tonight. The instructions are simple, really. All I have to do is stay quiet until someone comes, then when that someone comes, do what they say. Not hard.

The problem is the wait. I don’t know how long it will be. How long it has already been.

I’m tied to a table, and there’s a bright light shining on me. I’m blindfolded, and it’s incredibly hot under this light. 

That is, until a gush of cold water pours down on me. The sudden chill makes me gasp, gives me goosebumps. Heightens my awareness of the physical. 

It’s almost exquisite, feeling the cold slowly burn up in the heat of the lamp, feeling myself getting warmer again, though my nipples stay erect this time.

I’m straining to hear any noise, when another rush of cold water startles me. This could get torturous really quickly, I decide, as my bladder reacts to the chill, signalling its need. Ever noticed that when you have to pee, things are that much more erotic?

I’ve warmed and been chilled yet another time, when I hear muffled voices. 

“Close your eyes,” comes the familiar voice of the one I’m trying to impress.

I hear a door open, and footsteps. At least two pair of feet there.

The new person remains silent, and my lover says, “Open your eyes,” there is a slight pause. “Have your way. Whatever you do, I’ll do to you.”

I wait, tingling for some touch, when another rush of water elicites a chuckle from the new one.

Variation 2

We reach the bottom of the steps, and you pause in front of the closed door. Your eyes twinkle as you look back at me with a raised eyebrow. I can’t resist, and lean forward to kiss you.

The kiss is heartily returned before you pinch my ass and lean away.

“Are you ready for this?” you whisper in my ear, causing the hairs on my neck to stand on end. Not to mention the tingle down my spine.

I push my pelvis into you and whisper back, “I’m always ready.”

You chuckle, sending another shiver down my back, “Close your eyes.” Your voice was oddly loud, commanding.

I raise an eyebrow and obey.

I hear you open the door. The air rushing out brings me a whiff of your scent, strong and oh, so inviting. It is warm air. This basement is not any usual cold dank dungeon of a room. 

You take my arm and lead me gently into the room. Once you stop, I can hear your ever so slight sound of pleasure, “Open your eyes.” Again commanding.

I do, and am greeted by a very brightly lit scene. A slave on a table, tied down, blindfolded. Nipples erect, and smiling slightly, head tilted toward us. 

I notice water dripping from the table, and am caught up in admiring the smooth skin, glowing under bright light. 

“Have your way,” you gesture toward the figure “Whatever you do, I’ll do to you.”

I am very amused, and let you know it with a smile before moving silently forward to take a closer look.  

I reach out to touch the glowing skin, when a bucket of water dumps itself over the table. The slave gasps, obviously very turned on, and I chuckle. This is going to be interesting.

Variation 3

The scene is set, everything is perfect. I have a new toy and an old lover that are going to meet this night. After a dinner frought with sexual tension, I lead my lover to my newly established dungeon.

I’ve got it all set up. The slave is tied to the table. Buckets of water balance overhead, on timers. And I know my lover is going to get a kick out of my plans. I’m not going to hate it either.

Leading my lover down the stairs, I get a tingle of doubt. Maybe they won’t like it. Pausing at the door, I know they will. I turn, a devious grin on my face. My lover matches the look and kisses me deeply. We’re both ready to go right there, I can tell. But patience is a virtue. Especially tonight.

I feel my lover’s slight intake of breath when I whisper “Are you ready for this?”

At the answer, “I’m always ready,” I have to chuckle. Ne’er a truer word spoken.

I harden, watching my lover’s reaction, “Close your eyes.” I’ve never commanded this lover before, and want to make sure it’s not going to cause problems. 

A slight raised eyebrow is the only reaction, prior to closed eyes. Good. This is going to work very well, I think.

I turn and open the door, surveying the scene. The slave is there, on the table, much more excited now than before. Perfect. 

I lead my lover in, choosing my distance carefully. I pause to admire the new slave. Great arms, nice musculature, and perfect skin, freckles and all. Turning to my lover, I again command, “Open your eyes.”

After a slight pause of taking in the scene, my lover’s face is lit up by a wonderous smile. This just keeps getting better. “Have your way,” I say, gesturing, “Whatever you do, I’ll do to you.”

My lover gives me a challenging look, as if to say, “Really? We’ll just see about that.” And takes a step forward. Perfectly timed, the last bucket empties its contents, drawing a chuckle from my lover, a gasp from the slave, and a smile from me. This really will be fun.

The Slave Assassin Chapter 23

December 25, 2022 / posted in Chapter Book, Stories / No Comments

Back to Chapter 22   -  Thinking of donating or paying Tribute to the WebMistress?  Chocolate is always gratefully accepted.

 

Word went quickly through the Royal Estate if anything happened.  When there were people there.

The Countess Alison Scarlotti had died among those in the Royal dining tent.  None around her tried to touch her or help her before she started to convulse from the poison.  The knowledge that those around the King and his new Favorites could be harmed spread and most of those who had been hanging around the neck of the Royal presence were gone by the dawn of the next day.

Word would have been whispered and shouted that Princess Laun Dresden had run away.  If the gossiping nobles were still in residence and had not taken many of the servants with them.

The body of the assassin had been taken and buried, the head wrapped in linen and put into a large pot with honey for the transport back to the other continent.  The others in his team were easily routed, told of the demise of their team mate, and all chose to die at the hand of the Guards than to die at the hand of the Princess.

Word would have been intimated that the Royal Council was behind the assassination attempts, if any but the Guards and the Peaches knew of the treachery.  The council members and the people they had with them were sequestered in the stifling building the Guards used to keep prisoners.  They were outraged, but knew that they had been rightly caught and faced the wrath of their King.

Ifahyd knew all this and was glad that those who would spread the word had decided to save themselves and leave. »Read More

The Slave Assassin Chapter 22

September 18, 2022 / posted in Chapter Book, Stories / No Comments

Back to Chapter 21

Things are a bit difficult right now.  The Web Mistress would like you to consider Tribute, if you can.

 

Edgar blinked.

“Ten people in the yurlodge with her and she just walked out?”

Daffyd nodded, anger and shame fighting on his features.  “Lord Edgar, she was writing, answering messages we all thought. Then she was just...gone.”

Wanda held Laun’s braid.  It was from the nape of her neck, the arm’s length hair still smelling of her sweat.  “Sir, what could she be doing?  My Mistress shouldn’t be alone right now...”

Edgar drew the girl into his arms and held her as the tears started again.  “I don’t know what she is up to.  She has always been unpredictable.  This-”  Edgar looked at the other Peaches, many having come running at the call that Laun had disappeared.  “This is different.  I want to find her, but I don’t know if she will let us.”

“Edgar-”  Silar was at one edge of the yurlodge, his attention on part of the canvas that met the foundation dug into the Rosemond plateau.  “She pushed her way through here.  There is disturbed sand and a few of her hairs.”  He looked over at Edgar.  “And blood.”

Edgar didn’t even have to say anything.  Those Peaches near the door were out and already of a mind to track and trace their own Mistress.  The whole troupe started to scan for what Laun must have taken with her, finding nothing missing.  Verat was the one to look at what Laun had been writing.

It was read aloud, many of those in the open rooms pausing to listen.

“Friends, Family, Lovers-

“There is too much to say.  There is only one thing I can say.  I am bringing the danger to the Royal Estate and to you.  I am taking myself out of here to lessen the danger.  You will ever be safer without me with you.  It has always been the way.

“You will look for me.  I cannot tell you not to.

“Laun”

There was quiet.  People went back to what they were doing but many of them were thinking of what Laun had just left for them.  She was saying farewell.

Feet pounding the hard dirt and sand outside came right before Lieutenant Beau threw back the entrance flap into the guest tent.  “There are two horses and a uniform missing from the barracks,” Beau gasped out as he pushed through the Peaches on the stairs.  “Midland’s uniform.  She left the Sergeant’s rank on his bed.”

“Fuck!”  Edgar had been holding the sobbing form of Wanda, but knowing that Laun might be trying to get back to the ship, back to the Midlands made him push her away.  “Green unit!  To the main road.  You, find the rest of Flower unit and make a sweep along the edge of the Estate.  Daffyd!  Do you know where-”

The large blonde man snorted through his broken nose and nodded.  “I’ll find them and send a pigeon.”

No hesitation.  Edgar was Master Peach.

Onto Chapter 23 Where Girl chooses a name

The Slave Assassin Chapter 21

July 11, 2022 / posted in Chapter Book, Stories / No Comments

Back to Chapter 20   -  Please support the Web Mistress with Tribute.

 

They had expected tears.  They had expected the darkness.  They had expected rage and anger.

Laun had felt better after being given clear water and having the blood washed from her into the sand outside their yurlodge.  She sat, the Peaches brushing her hair and cleaning what they had missed outside.  She had asked for several of their medicines, and for cold cloths for her twisted knee.  Other than that, Laun had not said anything or done anything.

It was eerie and concerning her people.

Laun was grieving.  Not just for Ulis.  For the assassin she had just killed.  For Wanda’s innocence.  For Rosemond and Iffy.  For her people.  For her children.

Laun was convinced that the attempts on Ifahyd would not be as bad, or numerous, if she had not been there.  Yes, they would have happened, but not like this.  Not this close.  Not taking out innocent people.

Laun smiled at her men when Daffyd and Gregg offered themselves.  She shook her head and went back to just looking at her hands.  Her hands.  The ones that had taken so many lives and had trained others to take lives.  The hands that had just held one of hers as she died.  The hand that held the blade to his throat as he chose to die.

»Read More

The Slave Assassin Chapter 20

June 29, 2022 / posted in Chapter Book, Stories / No Comments

Back to Chapter 19

Desert as the backdrop to desert-clothed people, one kneeing to another.

After the interrogation, the King receives his Cousin.

The Royal Guards faced out.  The Peaches faced in.  The circle was not complete, but it was enough.

Laun had stepped to where Wanda had used her rope skills to tie the man over a large, mostly flat rock in the garden.  He was face up, still struggling, though he knew he was dead.  Laun threw the dagger that until that point was held loosely in her hand at the foot of the rock, the tip landing in the sand and the blade slowly falling sideways after it landed.

There were words that Laun almost understood.  Her time with the K’tahll ambassador had been useful, but the language still was beyond her.  She did have a few things she knew how to say.  Silar stepped to her, staying in back and to her right.

“He says that he is only one of many come to bring the warrant and title of Blue Master to the other continent.”

Laun nodded.  She said in a cold, flat tone, “Eiah.”

The man stopped.  He squinted and struggled to rise to see Laun better.  He continued to talk, seeing Silar behind Laun and starting to sneer.

“He says that you are just a puppet, that saying what your...  Well, me, tells you to say is meaningless.”

Laun’s head went sideways and she shook her head.  “Eiah, gub’tataka.  Sisu bah’i.”

Silar kept his voice low and said, “I didn’t know you could understand...”

Laun shook her head.  Her voice was a whisper as she said, “I can’t, but he doesn’t know that.  I only know what your ambassador taught me, and I know I am not saying the words right.” »Read More

The Slave Assassin Chapter 19

June 28, 2022 / posted in Chapter Book, Stories / No Comments

Back to Chapter 18

 

The Desert.  Laun sighed.

It was beautiful, but hot.  The flowers were starting to fade, even as the evening call to the dining tent was sounded.  She heard the call, but stayed on the bench, waiting.

Messages had been written, the lost nail given some, the Royal messengers others.  Laun sent a scathing message to Kwarti, Red Master from the far Western shore of Myrned.  A year before, they had met in the Spires, some on each side had been lost, one sent to kill, one there to protect.  A pact had been made, and part of that was that all Royalty were unwarrentable.  A Secret Keeper had witnessed, and by Myrned Law, was unbreakable.

Laun sneered.  Nothing was unbreakable. »Read More

Slow Western 5

May 26, 2022 / posted in Stories / No Comments

To the beginning of the story in Z-Grade Movies

 

They led us to a cave entrance that had a jumble of mining equipment, horses, and men.  Most of the men were in shackles and chains.

He waited just behind one of carts filled with rocks.  He reached up and grabbed a rock and looked at it while he was hidden.  It had sparks of other colors in it, and he shook his head.  He whispered, “Can’t tell if it is gold, but they are working those fellas hard.”

I nodded, my eye having been caught by his horse being taken to one of the carts, a harness going over the slightly skittish beast to make him pull the weight.  The band across his chest was where the clean place had been that morning.  “They used your horse last night.”

There was a scowl.  “This is just wrong.  Those men don’t look like prisoners.  They must have been kidnapped like I almost was.”

There was a small bell and a man in a better coat and a bowler came out of the cave.  There was some low talk, and then we could hear, “He needs this shipment.  Get it going.”

We watched as several of the carts were wrapped up to cover the ore rock, horses hitched up, and some boxes strapped to the sides.  As the carts headed out, a jostle started something, one of the boxes projecting light and a small amount of smoke coming out of it.  They stopped the cart and stopped the light show before moving on.

“Pause.”

I did and he was able to slowly move around the area a bit.  We talked about the light show covering up the ore going through the city at night.  We talked about how to get the prisoners out of their chains.  And then, I saw a ‘are you still watching?’ pop up and knew we had to restart things.  He was back in position and I continued the video.

He snuck up on the one guard that was left, knocking him to the ground.  He wrapped rope around his arms and legs, stuffing a bandana into his mouth.  The keys were used to unlock the prisoners, some bolting into the night.  Several of then headed into the cave, more men coming out, including another guard being dragged behind them.

So, scene of prisoners catching up to the ore carts.  Scene of small firefight.  Scene of the Sheriff coming out of his jail and looking between the two groups.  Sheriff sides with My Guy.  Fight, fight, fight, My Guy wins.

The Sun is coming up as the prisoners are talking to the Sheriff, the Sheriff apologizing for having to go with the Bad Guys.  Whatever.  Change of heart stuff doesn’t impress me.  My Main Guy unhitches his horse and brushes the dirt from it.  He doesn’t have his saddle, but that doesn’t matter. The townspeople start coming out, amazed at what they are seeing.  More apologies.

The Sheriff came up to My Guy and started talking.  “I knew something was different about you.  We have been under that gang for months.  I-“  He looked down to the ground, embarrassed.  “They said take the money or die, so I took the money.”  He held out his hand.

I thought he was going to let the Sheriff just hang.  He didn’t, but it was a perfunctory shake before he just tipped his hat and started walking out of town, the bridle of the horse in his hand.

Sweep of music, walking into the sun…  And a great smile on his face.  He turned and said over his shoulder, “See you next time.”

I sat there for a while even after the credits stopped.

Next time?

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