Louie The Rune Soldier Fan Fiction ❯ Valiant Champion Or Something Like It ❯ Chapter 3

Valiant Champion or Something Like It

 

By: AZ Mark II

 

Disclaimer: ADV Films and/or J.C. Staff own this one, not me.

 

-

 

“I present Headmaster Carwes, master of the Magicians' Guild, and Mistress Auriza, heiress of the Auriza Company,” announced the doorman as he ushered the two into the private chamber in the royal castle. Carwes and Ila entered, the old man in his Guild robes, and Ila in a dress, rather than her usual tight, thin purple body suit and mustard yellow skirt. While her dress was not a gown by any means, it was closer to formal wear than to casual wear.

 

“Ah, Carwes, my friend,” responded Rijarl. “Welcome,” he said. Beside him, High Priestess Jenny from the Mylee temple was already there, along with some assorted nobles and dignitaries, though the entire group was less than twenty people.

 

“Your majesty,” nodded Carwes. Ila gave him a graceful curtsey.

 

“You majesty,” she parroted Carwes's greeting. “I am grateful for this invitation, as is my father,” she added. Jenny smiled at the daughter to the richest merchant family in the kingdom; perhaps the richest and most influential in many kingdoms.

 

“This invitation was for you, Ila, not your father,” said Jenny quietly, briefly touching Ila's bare shoulder. “We're all glad you accepted the invitation,” she added. Ila chose not to respond to that aspect of the discussion.

 

“Please, enjoy our refreshments,” invited Rijarl in the royal plural. Moving to the table, Ila found that the food was laid out on a long, thin table. Her eyes fell to the small cask of wine. The young red-haired woman selected a gold and crystal goblet, filled it with a little of the wine, sipping it to see if it was to her liking. Deciding that the rich, heavy red was acceptable to her, she filled the glass and selected some snacks.

 

Within five minutes of being introduced, she found herself engaged in endless conversations with the nobles and dignitaries in the room. She wasn't enthralled with the business of trade like her father was, but she understood the principals involved and had long since accepted that she would be the head of her father's business one day. So far, she hadn't really decided how to handle that. I wish Louie were here, she thought absently. Ila had made several tentative trade deals with nobles for goods her father handled, as well as establishing basic trading framework with some of the dignitaries attending. She concluded each set of groundwork negotiations with the standard `you will need to work out the exact details with my father,' thus moving herself out of the exact negotiations. Have to remember to send a note to father about the basics of what is going on here, she made a mental note.

 

Stepping to a corner for a rest, she sipped her wine, the third or fourth glass of the evening, her thoughts turning to other matter. I have to take a look at that device that that adventurer guy found, she considered. And I want to try that spell I found to see if I can find Louie and his party, she mused. Ila's stomach grumbled a little. I always did prefer mead and beer to wine, she thought sourly. Her wine glass was half empty, and she decided to just finish it off and get out of there as quick as she could.

 

“How are you enjoying your evening so far?” asked a voice from her side. Blinking, she glanced over to see Rijarl standing next to her.

 

“It's fine, you majesty,” she replied immediately. He favored her with a surprisingly young and playful grin.

 

“Why do I get the feeling that you are looking for the exit, Ila?” he asked her directly, still grinning. Ila kept the frown off her face.

 

“I must admit to being somewhat tired from my finals, your majesty,” she played it off, “and being of common lineage in a room of nobles is somewhat uncomfortable,” she added, shifting focus off her. Rijarl looked at the group before him, seeing that a few of the nobles had overly-partaken of the free wine, and thus were making fools of themselves, he couldn't say that he didn't agree with her.

 

“What say we get some fresh air, then, Ila?” he asked her. The young girl blinked as the king took her arm in a light, yet firm grip, and steered the girl out the door, seemingly unnoticed. Waving off his guards, Rijarl guided her to a small outdoor garden in the inner castle's courtyard. In the cool night air, Ila found herself wondering what the king was up to. Finding a marble bench near some flower beds, he guided her down before sitting next to her.

 

“So, what do you see yourself doing, once you complete your training at the Guild?” asked the king casually.

 

“Huh?” wondered the girl. Rijarl glanced at her.

 

“Will you give your attention over to the family business, pursue a living in magic, or perhaps something else?” he clarified.

 

“I may have finished my core training at the Guild, but there is much yet to learn,” Ila said.

 

“Carwes once told me that magic is the only trade in which one can never be a complete adept,” Rijarl nodded; mostly to himself.

 

“I am fortunate that my father is still vigorous and healthy, so there is no pressing need for me to take over the business from him any time soon,” she added. “For the time, I suppose that I will concentrate on my hobby and studies,” she sort-of decided. Rijarl considered that.

 

“Have you considered your…personal life in regards to the future?” he asked her. Ila frowned.

 

“What do you mean, your majesty?” she asked him, her eyes meeting his.

 

“Is there a young man you fancy, Ila?” asked Rijarl. “Have you given much thought to family and heritage?”

 

“Um, a little,” she admitted, hoping the blush on her cheeks wasn't overly obvious. “Why ask?” she wondered. Is he hitting on me? she worried. Thinking it over, she had another thought. No, it is more likely that he is looking to find a suitable wife for his son, she decided.

 

“There was a time, Ila,” said the king, his tone introspective, “that I was in a position much like you; though, naturally, I was not in the magic trade,” he chuckled. “As the youngest son of a noble family, it was up to me to make my own way, and I did so by the sword, eventually founding Ohfun with the help of some staunch and devout companions,” he went on.

 

“Carwes and Jenny,” murmured Ila. Rijarl nodded.

 

“At the moment that I was crowned king of this land, I had no idea what was before me. At times, I can tell you truthfully, I wish I had never aspired to this throne, but it was too late to change it.” He lapsed into silence for a few moments. “As a young man, I had little thought for the future, and therefore, the matters of state came as a surprise. The more that I learned, the more I realized that I must look to the future as much as to the now and the past. To that ends, I took the daughter of a noble family for my wife,” he looked at Ila, who was watching him, a guarded expression on her face. “I speak, Ila, of the differences between wants and necessities.”

 

“What does that have to do with me?” asked Ila, her tone clipped, measured and steady. Not unlike Carwes and Jenny when they are on guard, thought the king.

 

“I would ask you if your wants and necessities might not be brought together,” he said ambiguously.

 

-

 

“Here! Grab the end of this!” yelled Louie, steadying one end of a fresh-cut evergreen bough. Genie grabbed the cut end, swiftly wrestling it into place in their make-shift shelter. Inside the nearly-complete half-shack, Merrill and Melissa were desperately shifting their loads around so they could protect the scrolls from the sudden, heavy, continuous downpour that had hit them on their third day out from the ruins.

 

At first, they had just kept moving; after all, it was just a rain storm. When it hadn't ended after a day's travel, the group had taken shelter for the night in mildly protected thicket. It rained through the night, and when the morning showed no signs of stopping, the decision had been made to press on in hopes of moving out of the dense, hindering Black Tree Reach. By noon, it was apparent that they had underestimated the situation.

 

In the dark depths of the woods, the moss, dead leaves and other debris concealed a phenomena of certain forests: the shallow water-hold. The group had been plodding along, soaked and pretty miserable, when Merrill had taken a wrong step, and landed up to her waist in cold, dark water. It was like a peat bog, where you could never be sure if the next step would break through into a sink hole. Looking around in the light of Louie's mage-light, the party found that they had wandered into a maze of water-shed channels and small, soft `islands' of saturated ground.

 

It was clear to the party that they couldn't keep going forward in the heavy downpour, and the area they were in was not safe from the threat of being swallowed by the rainwater. A quick round-table later, they were moving back to the last bit of higher ground they had seen, right at the edge of the low bowl they had run into. Merrill was soaked to her waist, and her pack's bottom third was soaked as well. Melissa's dress was soaked and muddy to her knees, while Genie's boots were ruined. Louie's pants would need to be washed and dried to get all the dirt off them and make them wearable again.

 

With the condition of their clothing and packs, the choice was made to build a shelter and wait it out. It was late when the group found a workable site. A tree had fallen over, catching against two other trees, forming a strong framework. Some swift work with the camp axe and the smaller limbs, undergrowth and moss were gone, some of it recycled into wall and water-shed components. Genie and Louie had gone in search of limbs to finish the project and now, they were almost done, with a nearly perfectly dry shelter and even a small fire at one end.

 

Louie and Genie moved into the shelter, pulling the last few branches after them, closing off the last section of their shelter. Inside, the shelter was cramped, but workable. Melissa and Merrill finished tying the last of the scrolls into their best water-proof bags. Around the two, the party's supplies were scattered around. “How are we doing, Melissa?” asked Louie, pulling off his soaked shirt and carefully wringing the water from it. Genie took off her over-cloak, carefully shaking it a time or two before jury-rigging it to hang on a cut-off limb stub near the door. She was left in her soft chamois top and her loincloth.

 

“Well, the scrolls are safe,” sighed Melissa. “But water got into our trail rations, and most of them are spoiled,” she said. “Merrill's clothes are all soaked through, and our blankets are damp,” she said, trying to suppress a shiver. In soaked clothes, even though the ambient temperature wasn't that cold, it felt distinctly cold to the priestess. Beside her, Merrill was already shivering.

 

“We have to get out of these wet clothes and get warm,” said Genie, seeing the smallest of their party's lips begin to turn pale. “We can't afford for any of us to come down with pneumonia or a fever,” she said. Outside their shelter, the rain was still coming down non-stop. “How many blankets are dry enough, Melissa?” she asked the priestess.

 

“Two,” said the priestess, “maybe three, but the others are too wet to use,” she said. Genie nodded.

 

“It'll have to do,” she said, reaching back and untying her top. “We don't have a lot of dry firewood, so the fire will have to stay small,” she said, draping her thin top over another branch stub near the walls of the shelter. Immediately, her hands moved to her loincloth, and a moment later, it was hanging up as well. Naked, she worked her boots off. Seeing Melissa and Merrill staring at her, eyes wide, she frowned. “What?” she said. “There isn't a choice here, so get going!” she urged them. Melissa shook herself free of her shocked surprise.

 

“R…right!” she said, swiftly going to work on her dress. Beside her Merrill's teeth began to chatter. “Hurry, Merrill,” said Melissa, pulling her dress over her head and handing it to Genie, who found a place for it to hang while drying. Seeing Merrill's eyes turn toward her, Melissa gave her an encouraging smile as she began to work on Merrill's clothes. “You have to get out of those wet clothes, or you will sick,” she reminded the girl.

 

“Louie,” hissed Merrill to Melissa. Melissa gave her smaller friend a small, apologetic smile.

 

“It can't be helped,” she murmured back, pulling Merrill's shirt off before working on the girl's shorts. Without her wet dress, she was feeling warmer already. Glancing at Louie, she was just in time to see him pull his pants off, revealing himself as he did so. Melissa blinked, seeing that he was significantly more endowed than she had thought. Genie, crouched naked beside him as if it were nothing, went to work finding a spot for his pants to dry. Blushing, Melissa turned her attention back to getting Merrill out of her soaked, muddy clothes. The thin leggings the shorter girl wore were swiftly dispensed with, leaving Merrill in a thin pair of panties. Touching the cotton garment, Melissa found that they were - not surprisingly - soaked with cold water. She tugged them off as well.

 

When she didn't hear the expected protest from Merrill, she looked at her co-adventurer, seeing the girl's eyes were fixed on Louie's manhood, her mouth hanging open. Melissa could understand how Merrill would be shocked by what she was seeing; after all, she was surprised as well. “Here,” came Genie's soft voice, the tall red-head worming past Louie and over to the other two, pulling a blanket around herself before squatting behind Merrill and pulling the smaller thief back into her, hugging her from behind and closing the blanket over the naked girl's shivering form.

 

“Achoo!” sneezed Louie, breaking Melissa's pre-occupation. Blinking, she swiftly grabbed the second dry blanket and handed it to him, leaving her with the last one. Pulling it to her, she found that it was damper than she expected, her body shivering as it met the cold cloth.

 

“You can't use that when it's that wet, Melissa,” said Genie, seeing the blonde's reaction to the blanket's state. “Share with Louie,” she suggested. “Besides, there isn't room for three people to sleep separate anyway,” she pointed out. Blushing, Melissa slowly dropped the blanket.

 

“O…ok,” she breathed. I was going to do this anyway, wasn't I? she told herself, carefully moving over to Louie. She was acutely aware of her nakedness, but determinedly carried on. Turning around, she carefully sat in front of Louie, who copied Genie's actions, hugging Melissa to his chest and wrapping the blanket around both of them. Feeling his arms close around her, she was pleasantly surprised to find that it felt very nice. Gradually, she relaxed back into his embrace, their shared body heat swiftly driving the chill from the air.

 

An indeterminate time later, she became aware of something hard pressing against her lower back. Blinking, she swiftly deducted what it was. That's Louie's…thing! she thought, a flutter in her stomach and a tingle in her groin. Her eyes flicked over look at Genie and Merrill, who seemed to be asleep, Merrill resting peacefully against Genie's impressive breasts, Genie's cheek resting against the top of Merrill's head. Both women were breathing slowly and softly, a good sign of being asleep; though Melissa knew that both could fake sleep very convincingly. Slowly drawing in a breath, she shifted slightly, turning her head to see Louie staring at the overhead tree trunk, a strangely thoughtful look on his face.

 

“Louie?” she asked softly. He blinked, his attention shifting back to the woman in his arms.

 

“Yes, Melissa?” he responded.

 

“What were you thinking about?” she asked him, shifting a little more. His hard length throbbed against her soft skin.

 

“Oh, I was just thinking about what my old man would say about those scrolls,” he said nonchalantly. “And I was wondering if Ila would like the souvenirs I got for her,” he added, a small smile on his face. Melissa nodded slightly.

 

“I see,” she said softly. “Louie, what is Ila to you?” she asked him quietly. He frowned.

 

“Ila? She's my best friend, Melissa. From the day we met, she and I have been thick as thieves. I can always count on her in a pinch, and any time that I need her, she's there for me. Like those dancing swords in that fight with Conrad,” he chuckled softly. Melissa knew exactly what he was talking about.

 

“I remember,” she murmured. He came to my aid without hesitation or care for the possible consequences, she recalled. I hadn't been nice to him, and yet, there wasn't the slightest hesitation in him when he jumped in to save me from Conrad, thought the priestess. Her `relationship' - if one could call it that - with the posturing little fool had caused her a lot of grief over the last few years, but once Louie came into the picture, she found that the incidental irritation that was Conrad vanished from her life for the most part. One more thing that he has done for me - for us, she corrected her initial thought.

 

“You like her, don't you,” whispered Melissa, thinking of the slim red-haired mage.

 

“Well, yeah,” shrugged Louie, causing their bare skins to rub against each other, making Melissa shiver, though not with cold. Oh, god! babbled Melissa silently, feeling her nipples harden. Louie's arms were wrapped around her waist, just below her breasts, holding her securely to him, the blanket wrapped around both their bodies. Against her back and side, she could feel the heat from his body soaking into her body. “But, I like you guys, too,” he added, a thought occurring to him.

 

“Mm,” hummed Melissa. She absently rubbed herself against his hard length.

 

“M…Melissa?!” gulped Louie. The priestess looked at him, a brief meeting of the eyes.

 

“We…like you too, Louie,” she whispered, her lips touching his for a moment. “Like Ila likes you,” she added, shifting so she was sitting on his thighs, her legs bunched under her on either side of his. Her heart was racing, but instead of being nervous, she found she was looking forward to what she was about to do. Louie looked confused, which only made her leer. “Trust me - us,” she whispered, using her strong legs to rise up a little. Louie's hard length snapped forward, no longer pinned between their bodies, the tip pointed right at her nest. Here we go, she thought, easing back down.

 

A soft, partially smothered gasp escaped her as she felt the wide tip press directly against her puffy entrance. It is almost like this was meant to happen, she thought, feeling a fire growing rapidly in her groin, spreading outward at an incredible rate. Easing down, she used one hand to spread her outer lips open, facilitating his entrance into her virgin passage. Ugh! It feels like a temple pillar! she thought irrationally, her pussy being stretched by Louie's hard member. Melissa continued to sink down, her body weight and Louie's grip on her driving him into her, stretching her as he went. Melissa was panting in a mixture of excitement, effort and hormone-driven need.

 

When the entire tip was finally encased in her passage, she had the fleeting thought to be sure to offer a votive prayer to Mylee when she got back to the temple for the fact that her maidenhood had been torn by her physical conditioning in the first year of her novitiate. She had heard from other women about their first time being painful because of the tearing of their hymen or the lack of consideration from the guy, but it seemed that apart from the almost-pleasant stretching sensation, her first time would be far, far better. “Ah,” she breathed, feeling Louie's length push deeper into her. I think I should have heeded High Priestess Jenny's advice and slept with him a long time ago, a small part of her mind noted. The feeling of being stretched had passed from uncomfortable to oddly arousing. Louie's tip pressed against the entrance to her womb, causing an unexpected orgasm as it ground against her cervix.

 

From behind her, she heard Louie groan. “Melissa,” he breathed, his hands moving up to cup her bare breasts. Instinct served him well, as he began to thrust his hips upward into Melissa, who was still reeling from her unanticipated orgasm, causing another one to explode through her. Carefully squeezing her breasts, he gritted his teeth, trying to hold back his own explosion. It was a futile effort, with the hot, slick feeling of her incredibly tight pussy milking his shaft, the tantalizing feeling of his tip meeting the top of her sex each stroke, and the scent of her in his nose. “Ugh!” he grunted, holding himself deep as he fired off his load into her. For her part, Melissa was barely conscious of anything other than the gradually-receding orgasms she had had when Louie flooded her with his cum. Feeling the hot, thick spurts force their way into her womb, she trembled, a series of small, but strong orgasms trampling what was left of her senses.

 

“Louie,” she mewed, her vision beginning to do strange things. Louie was panting after the most incredible thing that he had ever experienced, his dick gradually softening in Melissa's sheath. Feeling the priestess limp in his arms, he carefully steadied her, made sure the blanket was secure around them, and closed his eyes to catch his breath. In moments, both of the lovers were asleep. Across the fire, Genie's eyes opened long enough to look over the two. So, your first time was good, she thought to Melissa, seeing the faint smile on the priestess's lips. Good for you. And it seems that Louie might have another unexpected talent hidden in there as well, she thought. We need to work on his stamina a bit, I think; though, for a pair of virgins, they did pretty good, she reflected. Glancing down, she saw Merrill sleeping peacefully against her, her face resting against the tall, strong woman's large breasts as if they were pillows. Smiling slightly, Genie shifted slightly, finding a more comfortable position before hugging Merrill close and drifting off to sleep.

 

-

 

“Lady Ila?”

 

The young woman stood, seeing her benefactor give her a shallow bow from the foot-step of the carriage he had arrived in. The driver of the carriage swiftly loaded her few bags as Ila stepped into the carriage with the adventurer. Closing the door, the young man banged his fist twice on the door frame, and the carriage pulled smoothly away from the entrance to the Magicians' Guild. Ila gazed out the window, still pre-occupied with the unexpected talk with the King, followed by her father's unwelcome pitch about marriage, and capped by a visit to the Shrine of Mylee and a long, somewhat uncomfortable talk with High Priestess Jenny. Ila had a lot of thinking to do.

 

It had be immediately clear after the meeting with Jenny that she needed some time away from Ohfun, and when the young man who had asked her about examining the artifact before finals tracked her down again, she had given it only the briefest of thought before accepting his request that she come check on his `item'. Better to keep out of father's and the King's immediate reach, she thought to herself.

 

“Lady Ila?” a voice interrupted her thoughts. Blinking, she turned to see the young man looking at her with a curious expression on his face.

 

“I'm sorry,” she apologized, “just thinking about something,” she said. The young man nodded.

 

“I understand, Lady Ila,” he accepted her apology. “Tell me, what matter is weighing so heavily on your mind, if I may ask?” he pressed. Ila sure as hell wasn't going to say anything about what was eating her alive; at least, not to some stranger.

 

“Just some issues with the Guild,” she waved it off.

 

“Surely not trouble with your studies,” the man pressed the conversation forward. Ila shook her head.

 

“No, not with studies,” she allowed him. Anything but studies! she added silently. “Don't worry; I will not be distracted when I examine your artifact,” she assured him, killing the topic. “Speaking of which,” she cut off any attempt to turn the topic back to herself and her thoughts, “what is the nature of this artifact? Where was it found? The more I know going in, the faster I can determine what we are dealing with,” she explained. As the young man began to tell her more about the artifact, she struggled to focus, the thoughts filling her mind being hard to displace.

 

-

 

“I am Isabelle, ordained priestess of the Mylee temple in Ohfun, and I would speak to your senior priestess,” said the blonde evenly. Behind her, the six acolytes stood in their order's field uniform, and farther back, the rest of the party waited while the priestesses checked in with the temple. Lily was standing a little ways from the group, communicating with the Magicians' Guild in Ohfun.

 

The party was four days into the neighboring Kingdom, and this small temple of Mylee was the first place where they had reasonable cause to hope for a break in their chase. Crown Prince Littler watched as the seven women were escorted into the temple, the doors closing behind them. Crown prince or not, named valiant champion or not, the order didn't permit men inside the temples without the express permission of the ranking priestess. Lily could have accompanied them, but she had declined, citing a need to communicate with the Guild and let the King know where they were.

 

With her back to the party, Lily activated the charm once more. She had finished the communication a few moments before, and with the priestesses away and the group distracted, she had chosen to risk activating the charm again. Seconds ticked by. Other than a few erratic twitches, the charm was silent. Carefully glancing back at the party, she deactivated the charm and tucked it away in her dress before re-joining the party. “They know where we are, and what we are doing. Still no news from Ohfun,” she reported to Littler.

 

“Thank you, Lily,” smiled the young prince. Lily smiled back. In spite of what had happened, she honestly liked the young prince. He may not be an honest Valiant Champion like Louie is, but he is still a champion, she thought, feeling his hand absently pat her head. And he treats me as if I were his little sister, too, she thought, hiding a wry smile. She didn't exactly care for his habit of patting her head like that, but since it was clear to her that it was done out of affection, she tolerated it.

 

“How long do you think it will take them?” wondered Jackinson, stopping next to Lily. The grizzled old knight captain was scarcely taller than the diminutive sorceress, though the bearing of the two was quite different. Littler shrugged.

 

“As long as it takes, I suppose,” he said. Women took a long time when talking, he knew, and it wouldn't surprise him to have to wait for hours, maybe days, before Isabelle and the six acolyte priestesses reappeared from inside the nearly-military temple. His eyes roamed over the estate, noting the thick, strong walls, the reinforced gates and the prayers etched into the walls. No bandit gang or brigands company would be stupid enough to attempt an attack on this place, thought the prince. In fact, I suspect that most armies would think twice before attacking a temple of Mylee. He recalled that his father had once told him that the only reason that he was able to found Ohfun was because High Priestess Jenny was with him. At the time, she had been a senior priestess with the order, which didn't have a main temple; mostly because so many kingdoms feared having an order dedicated to a god of war in their kingdom.

 

“They shouldn't waste time unnecessarily,” said Lily. Jackinson glanced at her.

 

“You seem unusually eager to press on, Lily,” he observed. She turned to look at the soldier.

 

“It has been nearly a year, Jackinson,” she said. “Time is not something that we can afford to waste frivolously,” she said. Since the incident with the attempted coup and the subsequent change in their friendship, she had taken to speaking bluntly to Jackinson; though she was often circumspect when speaking with the others.

 

“Been dabbling in magic to learn that, or is it just a hunch?” wondered the old soldier.

 

“Call it my woman's intuition if you want,” said the small sorceress. I can feel something is building to a head, and I would feel a lot better if we could find Ohfun's Valiant Champion and his companions, she left unsaid. Jackinson studied her for a few moments.

 

“I see,” he said after a few moments. “As you wish,” he conceded the point. The remaining group got comfortable and waited. It was nearly four hours later when the blonde and her six subordinates re-emerged from the temple.

 

“No luck,” sighed Isabelle. “Melissa and her companions have not been by any of the near-by temples, either,” she added. Looking at the sky, she sighed. “We can get another half-day's travel in before nightfall,” she suggested. Littler nodded.

 

“Yes, but which way should we go next?” he thought out loud. Isabelle retrieved the map, the two of them standing together as they discussed the decision. Before long, they had chosen their course and the party set off.

 

-

 

“Why are you so chipper?” asked Merrill sourly, covering a yawn with her hand. In front of her, Melissa was humming softly to herself as she stirred what Merrill's nose told her was likely some of their dwindling supply of coffee. The blonde head of their group was squatted close to the still-sleeping Louie, their shared blanket loosely over her shoulders. Other than that, she was still naked.

 

“Oh! Morning, Merrill,” replied Melissa, smiling easily. Merrill frowned slightly when she saw the subtle signs of smug accomplishment in the smile. “Did you sleep well?” she asked.

 

“Yeah, once I warmed up,” shrugged Merrill, glancing back to see Genie silently stretching her arm. “Are our clothes dry yet?” she asked. It wasn't that she minded being naked around Genie and Melissa; it was just a vague sense of tension knowing that Louie was there, too. I don't know why I'd be tense about it; he's just Louie! she thought, mildly irritated.

 

“Genie's clothes are dry,” said Melissa, carefully feeling the hanging garments. “Your shorts are nearly dry, but your shirt is still wet. Feels like my dress will need a few more hours before it is dry enough to wear.”

 

“Well, hand me my panties, will you?” asked the thief, extending her hand. A moment later, her thin cotton underwear landed in her palm. The nimble girl dexterously wiggled into the clothing before shifting to squat opposite Melissa. Behind her, Genie caught her halter top and loincloth as Melissa tossed them to her. After a cursory examination of the material to verify that it was dry, she casually re-dressed.

 

By the time that Genie was done, Melissa was offering her a cup of their trail brew. “Thanks, Melissa,” murmured Genie, taking the cup of ink-black coffee. “How did you sleep?” she asked, a wicked half-smile on her lips. Melissa blushed, glancing away.

 

“I slept…ok!” she replied, all too quickly. Genie gave her a feminine snort.

 

“I can see that,” she teased the blonde. Melissa frowned slightly. Behind Merrill's head, Genie silently pointed her finger downward. After a moment, Melissa understood, glancing at her naked sex. At first, all she saw was her neatly-trimmed blonde patch, but an instant later, she caught sight of a small trickle of mixed cum leaking from her puffy red lower lips. Her knees snapped shut.

 

“Something wrong, Melissa?” wondered Merrill, seeing Melissa jerk her legs closed.

 

“No! Nothing!” insisted the blonde, grabbing her own underwear. Though still slightly damp, she judged it dry enough to wear. Better that than the alternative…! she thought. Like the dress, the Mylee order provided its priestesses with a particular style of underwear. It was a strip of soft, tight-woven cotton and flannel, with a finely-stitched loop on one end. A thin cord of silk or cotton was fed through that loop, the strip was tied around the waist from the back, and the cloth pulled between the legs. When it was comfortably positioned, it was tucked under the tied cord and either tucked back around on itself or left loose over the front - not unlike Genie's loincloth.

 

When she had first taken her vows, Melissa had wondered about the unusual item of her temple-mandated clothing, but after a few years of training and service in the temple, she had found that the design was incredibly versatile, easy to clean and care for, allowed for plenty of movement and could even be adjusted to be more comfortable when in different climates. Now, swiftly donning the garment one-handed, she reflected that it was even more practical than she had first thought. In fact, I wouldn't even have to remove it if Louie wanted a quick one; or if I want a quick one, she thought. An instant later, her eyes widened slightly. If I want a quick one?! It's not like…he's my Valiant Champion and I'm his Follower, that's all! she told herself desperately. Her pussy, however, agreed with her first statement, tingling at the thought.

 

Merrill had been watching this carefully as her mind came fully awake. Processing the scene, she hit on the most logical cause of all the fuss. “Melissa!” she gasped, stunned. “You…with Louie?!” she managed, her tone a little strangled.

 

“Shh!” hissed Melissa, instinctively glancing back at the man. “And of course with Louie!” she added, irritated that Merrill was suggesting that she would do something like that with someone else. “It's not like there is any other man around, is there?” she muttered under her breath. Ordained priestesses of the Mylee order would never do that kind of thing with anyone but their champion! she thought resentfully. It's even in the oath we take when we join, she recalled, forgetting her irritation.

 

“But we were right here, too!” whined Merrill, trying to wrap her head around the fact that her friend and companion had had sex with Louie while she and Genie were only a few feet away from her.

 

“So?” interjected Genie, sipping her coffee. “What does that have to do with anything, Merrill?” she asked the young thief. “Unless you wanted in on the action?” she teased the smaller girl. Merrill sputtered.

 

“What's the racket about?” came Louie's voice, the young man sitting up and stretching. “Man, I'm hungry!” he noted.

 

“Never mind!” snapped Merrill. Genie covertly watched the young man and Melissa. Other than some blushing and a little fidgeting, Melissa didn't show any signs of undue stress over what had happened the night before, and Louie was exactly as he always was. The tall, strong barbarian swordswoman was relieved. I thought it would be ok, but sometimes, the morning after can ruin a group of comrades. Looks like it won't matter for us, though; thank the gods, she thought. Not for the first time, she wondered exactly what kind of vows the Mylee order had; not that Melissa would - or could! - tell her.

 

“Sounds like it is still coming down,” noted the young man, feeling his pants.

 

“They're not quite dry,” interjected Melissa. “Neither is my dress,” she noted. “Not that I think that moving in this downpour is wise in any event,” added the priestess.

 

“Well, I don't think so either, but we can't just sit here forever, Melissa,” countered Louie. “Besides, we are low on food, aren't we?” he recalled. Melissa nodded.

 

“We have about five days of rations left,” she said. No telling how long it will take us to get out of this damned forest, though, she left unsaid. Louie considered that.

 

“Then we better get out of this forest and back to Ohfun,” he said. None of the girls bothered to tell him that that was obvious.

 

“Don't suppose that you happen to recall a spell to disperse this rain cloud, do you?” hinted Genie. Louie shook his head.

 

“No, I don't,” he replied candidly. “Besides, remember the trouble that that weather control machine caused,” he reminded her. “But,” he added a moment later, “we should still be able to do some scouting and see if we can find a route through the flooded section we stumbled into yesterday,” he proposed.

 

“I'll do it,” said Genie, working her way to the entrance. As she wormed into her travel cloak, she almost casually rubbed her body against Louie's naked form. With the water-resistant waxed and oil-treated cloak settled, she moved outside. “It's slacked off a little,” she said just before closing the water-shed that served as a door. “Be back in a little bit,” her voice came back to the others as she moved off into the woods.

 

“So, I guess we wait for the clothes to dry,” sighed Merrill. Melissa pulled out one of the two remaining ratio rolls, reaching for the camp knife as Merrill fished out their cooking pot/pan. Handing it to Louie, she didn't need to tell him what to do. The dark-haired man held it outside the shelter, and after a few minutes, he pulled it back in, half-full of rainwater. Melissa took the pot from him and settled it in the coals of their small fire.

 

“I can't wait to find a town,” muttered Merrill, feeding in a little of their very scarce firewood. “Steak, potatoes and beer are calling to me,” she added dreamily.

 

“I could stand some of that,” agreed Melissa, hacking off chunks of the hardened, dried, salted rations, dropping them into the water to soften and prepare them for eating. “Or, given the circumstances, some thick, stout beef stew and ale would be nice.”

 

“Pork cutlets with garlic toast and peas,” suggested Merrill.

 

“Broiled chicken breast covered in herbs, carrots and corn with rye bread,” smiled Melissa, swallowing a mouthful of drool at the thought.

 

“Grilled salmon with boiled, salted cabbage and peppers and a tankard of lager,” Louie joined in the conversation.

 

“Bacon and eggs with sausage and browned potato slices,” Merrill immediately shot back.

 

“Rice with curry sauce,” retorted Louie aggressively. Melissa silently dropped out of the conversation, tending to the cooking as she listed to the typical banter between the two, finding herself oddly content with the situation she was currently in. Who would ever want to give up this kind of experience? she wondered idly.

 

-

 

Ila stretched, absently touching the ornate charm resting against her throat as she took a break from studying the item. She had been working on it for nearly a week now, and was beginning to figure out some things about it. The suave young adventurer who had hired her had had enough sense not to bother her while she wrestled with the project, appearing from time to time to ask if she needed anything before asking how it was progressing. At least he is polite, she thought fleetingly. Instantly, she pictured Louie in her mind's eye. Still, I'd rather it be Louie asking me to help him out, she thought wistfully.

 

Walking out of the bare room in the crumbled fortress on the border of Ohfun's territory, she made her way to the small room set aside for her. It had a comfortable enough bed, a table for a desk, a small area where she kept her snacks, and even a marble and iron bathtub in the corner. Picking up a sweet candy cube, she idly sucked on it as she flipped through a reference book she had borrowed from the Guild's library. Thoughtfully, she compared what she saw in the book to her notes and sketches.

 

Definitely from the age of the Sorcerer's Kingdom, she thought. It had the same sort of `feel' that her former mentor's weather machine had had around it. God, hope it doesn't take me that long to figure this out! she thought absently, recalling the decades and decades the old man had poured into the machine she and Louie had destroyed with the help of his adventurer friends and that blonde elf girl. Celecia, recalled Ila, that's her name. I wonder where Louie and his friends are?

 

Once more, she touched the charm at her throat. Still no reaction, so he hasn't come back to Ohfun yet, and the ward on Genie's house and Merrill's shack are still unbroken, so they aren't back either, and since the Mylee order wouldn't allow Louie to live in Melissa's room at the temple, I think it safe to say that they are still out somewhere. Before leaving Ohfun, she had set a ward on Louie's room at the Guild, as well as fashioning a sort-of resonance charm for herself. It would react to Louie's wand entering the Guild. Wasn't easy to make it, but Headmaster Carwes was kind enough to give me the key to the wand he made for Louie when he broke his old one, so… she shook her head, trying to stay focused.

 

A knock on the canvas-over-wood-frame door that replaced the destroyed original door to the room diverted her from her thoughts. “Yes?” she replied. A moment later, her patron stepped into her room.

 

“I hope I am not interrupting,” he said smoothly. Ila shook her head.

 

“No, not at all,” she said, eyes back on the book. “I haven't really learned much since last time you asked me,” she guessed where this was going.

 

A soft chuckle was her reply. “I see I am easily predictable,” he replied. “As a matter of fact, though,” he went on, “I find it necessary to be away from here for several days on business. If I may, I would like to ask that you continue your work on our artifact; if, of course, you feel safe in the company of my companions and the hired men we employ in guarding this location,” he added urbanely. Ila considered that.

 

Several of the man's companions - purported `adventurers' like the young lord himself - were only a whisker away from what she considered brigands or cutthroats, though they did possess a veneer of civility that vaguely worried her. Still, it wasn't like she was totally helpless, and Ila Auriza was always prepared. She had carefully selected several of her best magical charms and items from her inventory before this began, and was fairly certain that unless one or more of the party were accomplished magicians, she could hold her own. And then there is that matter with father… she recalled, her lips twitching slightly in an unformed frown. I should stay clear until Louie shows up; or until father comes to his senses, she amended. Rustic living was nice enough, but she preferred a more comfortable life.

 

“I'll be fine for while,” she said after thinking it over. “Just do me a favor and ask them not to disturb me,” she warned him. He nodded.

 

“I have already made clear to them that you are not to be bothered for anything short of the direst of emergencies,” he assured her. “Also, I have set aside some food and drink for you, so you don't have to interrupt your examination of the item.”

 

“If I had some bathwater, that would be almost perfect,” she muttered to herself. The young man gave her a half-bow.

 

“I will arrange for a large pot of water to be kept at a low boil just outside the building, Lady Ila,” he promised her. Ila hummed.

 

“It would be easier if they used the roof to keep the water warm. If you put a small pipe and a plug through that crack, I won't have to haul water,” she pointed out. He inclined his head.

 

“An excellent solution, Lady Ila,” he concurred. “Is there anything in the way of supplies you need, since I will probably be in a city before you will?” he asked her.

 

After a swift mental inventory, she shook her head. “No, thank you,” she said.

 

“Well, then I will see you upon my return,” he said, exiting her room. Ila turned her attention back to the book and her notes.

 

-

 

“This didn't turn out so good for you, did it?” asked Littler of the man sprawled out in the grass before him. Around him, another score or so of men were likewise either incapacitated or dead. “I wonder what could have possessed a group of desperate outlaws to attack a party of adventurers; especially when more than half of us are priestesses of the Mylee order?” he wondered out loud. Not three steps from the prince was Isabelle, pole hammer in hand. She was wiping off the top spike on the tunic of one of the two men she had dispatched. Behind her, the six acolytes of the order were nearly giddy with excitement from their first honest battle. All six had demonstrated the kind of skills that the Order was known for. Even with only quarterstaffs, the half-dozen girls had put ten men out of the fight in short order.

 

“Are you girls ok?” asked Isabelle of the six white-clad novice priestesses.

 

“Yes, Priestess Isabelle,” replied Anna, the nominal head of `Melissa's Trio', as she, Gannet and Joan were called behind their backs. “We're fine, I think.”

 

“Don't think, Anna,” admonished Isabelle sternly. “Check and make sure,” she lectured the dark-haired girl.

 

“Yes, Priestess Isabelle,” chorused the girls in unison, swiftly beginning to check themselves and each other over for any injuries. They had learned early in the order that sometimes you didn't feel a hit until much later; and the senior priestesses had drilled into their heads that in real, live combat, later could be too late.

 

“You are unhurt, Highness?” she asked of the Crown Prince. He nodded, favoring her with a smile.

 

“Thanks to my experience with you three and Louie's party, I am surprisingly well-prepared for this sort of thing,” he said. Isabelle smiled back. “Jackinson, Lily, you two ok?” he asked of the grizzled old knight and the diminutive sorceress.

 

“Both of us are just fine, my lord,” replied the man. He and Lily had assumed their normal back-to-back defense, and between Lily's liberal use of stun and fire spells, and Jackinson's skills with a blade, the four who had rushed them hadn't stood a chance. Looking at the smoking remains of the first one that Lily had hit, he glanced at the girl, seeing her looking away from the charred corpse. “Lily?” he asked her softly. Her lavender eyes met his.

 

“What?” she asked quietly.

 

“You ok?” asked the old man. She nodded. “First time you killed someone with your own hands, isn't it?” guessed the old man. Lily looked away. “Well, try not to dwell on it,” he said. Does that mean she has never killed before, or that she has killed so much that she is bored with it? he wondered, thinking of her non-reply to his question. Given her past, it was not unreasonable to think that she had killed before.

 

A few yards from the two, Littler was talking to the crippled leader of the brigands. “It seems odd to me that brigands would risk antagonizing the Mylee order by attacking a group with priestesses in their midst,” he observed casually. “So what were you thinking, attack us?” he repeated. Isabelle had been checking the fallen brigands one by one.

 

“Your highness,” called the senior priestess, motioning him to come to her. Littler glanced at the man once more, making sure that he wasn't going anywhere and that he had no more weapons before moving to Isabelle's side.

 

“Yes?” he asked her. She was holding one of the assailant's swords in her hand.

 

“Does this seem a bit fancy and well-made to be used by a brigand?” asked the priestess, offering him the sword, hilt first. Littler took it, examining it.

 

“It is rather well-made, isn't it?” he asked rhetorically. “Standard military-style straight sword, two-lobed hilt knob, brass half-guard basket with single quillion,” he cataloged out loud, swinging the sword a time or two. “Fine balance,” continued the young prince. He brought the sword blade up to his face, studying the steel. “This is high-grade steel,” he noted. “Such work is, I agree, beyond most brigands' financial reach,” he agreed. “However, they are brigands, so perhaps they stole it or robbed a victim of it?” he suggested.

 

“The edge, my lord,” came Jackinson's voice from his other side. Frowning, he looked at the edge of the sword.

 

“It is sharp,” he noted, “but that is the purpose of a sword, isn't it?” he asked the old man.

 

“Compare it to my blade, my lord,” suggested the old man, offering him his own blade. Littler studied the two.

 

“I'm not sure…” he began dubiously.

 

“The edge is expertly maintained,” interjected Lily softly, having discerned the thoughts of Jackinson and Isabelle. “Not common for normal bandits,” she clarified.

 

“In fact, it is sharpened and maintained as a soldier would be taught to do it,” Jackinson agreed. “I think you will find that this is uniform for all these `bandits',” he suggested.

 

“Girls,” barked Isabelle, the six priestesses-in-training snapping to attention, “check the enemy's weapons. We are looking at the level and skill of maintenance used,” directed the head of the priestesses.

 

“Yes!” confirmed the girl, swiftly turning to the task. Seeing the white-dressed girls avoiding the blackened corpse that Lily had fried, Isabella tightened her jaw and used her pole hammer to check that one; not that much was left after the fire spell had feasted on the man. It took mere minutes to get the information.

 

Moving back to the leader of the attackers, Littler saw that the man had tried to crawl off, snapped spine and shattered arm or no. “So,” he said to the man, “you aren't brigands after all. Who are you, then? More remnants of the deposed nobles like Corwell his ilk? Foreign agents from a neighboring kingdom looking to test our vulnerabilities, perhaps? Who are you working for?” he asked. The man said nothing, gritting his jaw defiantly. Littler looked to Isabelle then Jackinson.

 

“My lord, perhaps you and Isabelle should take Lily and the other priestesses and check our supply wagon while I talk with this man,” suggested Jackinson grimly. After a moment of hesitation, Littler gave his retainer a jerky nod. Turning toward the wagon, he saw that the six junior priestesses were already moving toward the wagon. Lily silently fell in on left, Isabelle to his right. Once they were at the wagon, the group tried not to hear the shrieks and groans from where Jackinson was talking with the man.

 

A half-hour later, Jackinson joined the group, a thoughtful look on his face. “What did he say, Jackinson?” asked Littler.

 

“Nothing, my lord,” mumbled the little old man. “Absolutely nothing,” he added, frowning.

 

“Even after you…encouraged him to share?” asked Isabelle. Jackinson nodded.

 

“Even then,” he confirmed. “And I have never seen someone so stubborn in those circumstances,” he thought out loud. Lily abruptly spun on her heel and marched toward the corpse. “Lily! Wait!” called out Jackinson, sprinting after her. He didn't want her to have too much of a look at the results of his questioning, after all. The girl ignored him.

 

“Stay back,” hissed the girl, extending her staff. Prudently, Jackinson did as she so curtly ordered, the girl incanting a spell. A reddish-green glow suffused the body of the man. For a moment, Jackinson wondered if Lily was using a necromancy spell, but when the corpse stayed dead, he breathed a sigh of relief. Gradually the glow faded and Lily slumped slightly. Dashing forward, Jackinson steadied her.

 

“What was that about, Lily?” he asked her, his tone made harsher by his concern for the young magician in their party.

 

“When you said that the man wouldn't talk, I suddenly recalled that I had read about spells that used to be cast on agents; back in the ancient world. It insured that they would never betray their master or employer - no matter what,” she explained.

 

“So, that spell you cast…?”

 

Lily nodded. “It was a spell to reveal any magical residue from such a spell,” she confirmed.

 

“And?” asked Jackinson.

 

“There was a spell on these men,” confirmed Lily. “But, it's odd,” she went on, allowing Jackinson to move her back toward the rest of the party, “it isn't the kind of thing that they would have used in the ancient kingdom, yet at the same time, it is nothing like they use today, either,” she thought out loud. Almost like a melding of the two, she wrestled with the problem.

 

“Lily? Is something wrong?” came Littler's voice. Blinking, Lily realized that Jackinson had scooped her up and was carrying her while she was preoccupied by the questions raised by her discovery. Blushing, she kicked free of Jackinson's arms, landing delicately on her feet.

 

“Nothing's wrong,” she said, hiding her blush with her lumpy hat, “the spell just took a little more out of me than I thought it would,” she explained. Guess I have a ways yet to go before I am truly an adept in magic, she thought fleetingly.

 

“Spell?” wondered Isabelle. Jackinson swiftly filled them in while Lily freed her canteen and took a drink from it.

 

“That was excellent work, Lily,” came Littler's voice as a hand patted her head.

 

“It is why I'm here,” said Lily modestly. It always made her feel strange when Littler treated her like this. As an only child, she had been raised on a diet of anger, angst and resentment by her distant relative, but suddenly, it was like the crown prince was her loving big brother, Isabelle was her arrogant and scheming big sister, and Jackinson was like an uncle to her. She just wasn't sure how to react sometimes.

 

“Someone really doesn't want to be found out,” mused Isabelle. Littler nodded.

 

“Yes, but why?” he wondered.

 

-