Louie The Rune Soldier Fan Fiction ❯ Valiant Champion Or Something Like It ❯ Chapter 4

Valiant Champion or Something Like It

 

By: AZ Mark II

 

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

 

-

 

“At last!” exclaimed Merrill, emerging from the smothering darkness of the Black Tree Reach. There was a thin border of relatively open forest between the perpetual gloom of the choked Black Tree and the untended open meadows that bordered it. For whatever reason, not a single town or homestead had ever taken root within miles of the borders of the Black Tree Reach.

 

As the four companions emerged from the forest, they found that the heavy downpour had tapered off to a sporadic drizzle. Looking up, they saw that the sky had gone from lead-grey rain clouds to cracked light-grey, lined with gold-tinged blue. Until that moment, they had not realized that time had gone by faster than they had thought. It was almost dark.

 

“I say we get well out of the Black Tree before we camp,” suggested Melissa. The forest was oppressive in more ways than just physically, and she wanted to be clear of the crushing embrace of the trees.

 

“Agreed,” said Genie. Something about that place is just unpleasant, she thought.

 

“Hey, I'm all for it,” said a tired Merrill. She had had to work twice as hard to navigate the area thanks to her diminutive size, and it had taken a toll on her. Three days trudging through the unceasing rain had done a number on all of them, but especially on her. Louie had even carried her for half a day because she had gotten so tired from fighting her way through the unbelievably thick growth.

 

Hurrying out of the trees, the group took the first workable site they could find and set a hasty camp. It was barely more than a roughly-clear patch for their blankets and a patch of raw earth where the fire was swiftly set by Genie while Melissa and Louie grabbed all the dry and semi-dry wood they could and sloppily laid it out to keep the fire going all night. With the preparations made, the party swiftly prepared for a much needed sleep. In spite of their best efforts, their cloaks and clothing had once more gotten soaked through, though the scrolls were perfectly dry.

 

Merrill was the first to pull off her clammy clothes and crawl into the warm embrace of their blankets. Melissa used some fresh-cut limbs from the nearest tree to prop up the wet clothing near the fire. Genie, with less clothing to get wet, volunteered for first watch. Gratefully, Melissa peeled off her dress, rigging it next to Merrill's clothes before joining the small thief under the blankets. Louie followed their example and in short order found himself in bed with Melissa and Merrill.

 

“I'll take next watch,” he said to Genie, who just nodded. Settling in, he felt two sets of cold hand clamp onto his sides, while two warm, soft, feminine bodies pressed against his body. I could get used to this, he thought, yawning. Worming an arm under each, he drifted off to sleep as the exertions of the previous three days caught up with him. As he dreamed, holding Melissa and Merrill close, his mind turned toward a slim red-head who wore glasses.

 

It seemed barely an instant later when another red-head shook his shoulder. Waking, he found that Melissa had moved her head to his shoulder, and Merrill was practically laying on top of him. Realizing that it was watch change, he carefully extricated himself from the pair, expecting Genie to take his place. Genie stripped off her minimal clothing, but paused before sliding into the bedding. “It's quiet,” she said softly. “Take until dawn; I don't want Merrill standing watch when she's this tired, and Melissa can use the extra rest, as well,” she murmured in his ear. Louie nodded.

 

“Sounds fine,” he whispered back. Genie squeezed his shoulder once before sliding into the warm bed, Melissa and Merrill swiftly cuddling up to the warm body. Louie found that his pants were dry enough, and stepped into them, followed by his shirt. His boots were still not dry, though, so he sat barefooted next to the low fire, steadily scanning the area around him and occasionally dropping a fresh stick on the fire. I wonder what Ila is doing right now? he mused as the night darkened in the brief period before the first rays of dawn broke over the distant Razor peaks.

 

Listening to the sounds of birds waking and calling to each other, Louie heard snuffling, rustling sound in the thigh-deep grass farther out in the meadow. Frowning, he concentrated, hearing the sound again. Glancing at the girls once more, he rose and crept into the grass, homing in on the sounds. Near the far end of the wandering meadow, he found a artisan spring that spilled down to a shallow pond wreathed in cattails. Next to the shore was a wild boar. Merrill loves wild boar cutlets, he recalled. If anything would pick up the spirits of the small thief, a breakfast of boar cutlets would. The long-haired lout moved closer to the boar.

 

Sensing something wrong around it, the boar turned to stare myopically at the grasses behind it. While the eyesight of a boar might be second-class, its nose and hearing were good. And those senses told it something was looking at it in a predatory manner. Wild boars really only knew how to handle danger one way: by attacking. Squealing, it charged toward the perceived danger, tusks flashing.

 

“Louie Punch!!”

 

Back at the camp site, all three women scrambled to their feet, hands on weapons, as they heard an all-too-familiar battle cry. The three ignored their lack of clothing in favor of having weapons in hand as they tried to find the location and nature of the trouble. “See anything?” asked Genie tensely, her sword in hand.

 

“No, nothing,” came the reply from Merrill, two knives in each hand, ready to throw. “Genie?” she asked. Standing head and shoulders taller than the other two, she had a better vantage point than the others.

 

“Over there,” said the red-head, “looks like Louie is picking up something,” she said. Merrill groaned, her knives flipping in her hands so she held them by the hilts.

 

“If that idiot is breaking firewood with his stupid punch…!” she snarled. Genie watched as Louie straightened.

 

“Well,” she said casually, her sword coming to rest on her collarbone, flat-side down, “it isn't firewood, but I think we will need a bit more,” she notes, discerning the actions of their lone male member. Snagging her top and loincloth, she swiftly dressed. “Think I'll go gather some,” she said, sheathing her sword and moving toward the tree line. Melissa saw the first quarter of the sun rising behind the Razor Peaks.

 

“It's morning already?” she asked herself. Why didn't Louie wake me for my turn on watch? Or Merrill for her turn? she wondered. Not that she didn't appreciate the extra sleep, but she and Merrill should have taken their turn at watch; it was just how they did things.

 

“No wonder I feel rested,” shrugged Merrill. Though a seasoned adventurer, she tended to wear down faster due to the increased physical activity needed to keep up with her companions when fighting through heavy terrain like the Black Tree Reach. A growl from the brunette's stomach broke up the current thread of conversation. Giggling, Melissa checked her dress, finding that the steady heat of the fire had dried it almost perfectly.

 

Merrill slipped into her clothes as Melissa secured her underwear and wiggled into her order's field uniform. Running her fingers through her mid-back-length hair, she frowned. “I could use a bath and my hair needs a good combing,” she said to herself aloud. When we get to the next town, I think I will see about a proper bath and some personal care time, she decided.

 

“I'm all for it,” agreed Merrill. Her shorter hair was easier to maintain, but even it got tangled after too long in the field. “I used to wonder why Genie keeps her hair tightly braided all the time, but…” she shrugged.

 

“You could grow your hair longer, you know,” pointed out Melissa. Merrill shook her head.

 

“Too much work to maintain, and it gets in the way for a thief,” she said carelessly. “How that prissy Isabelle keeps those butter-locks of hers so carefully curled is truly a mystery,” she sniped at Melissa's order-sister.

 

“Isabelle is an ordained priestess of the Mylee order, Merrill,” sighed Melissa. “Please respect her for that, if nothing else,” she asked. Merrill winked at Melissa.

 

“Fine, but only because you asked, Melissa,” the smaller girl agreed. Melissa nodded her thanks. “I still don't get why you are always so quick to defend her, though; sister priestess or not, she's a pain in the ass,” insisted Merrill.

 

“It is in our vows, Merrill,” said Melissa. But more than that, she and I share a secret. I never expected to learn that she foreswore her oaths when she claimed that Mylee had given her Littler as her Valiant Champion, but ever since she confessed that to me, I can't look at her the same way; not with how I used to feel about Louie being my Champion. She and Isabelle were opposite sides of the same coin in that regard, and it gave the two an odd, almost-uneasy bond. I should have told High Priestess Jenny, but… she let the thought trail off.

 

“Vows or no vows, I'm still hungry,” complained the small thief, digging into what was left of their gear. “One thing you can't do with gold is eat it,” she added sourly, finding that they now had more gold and gems than provisions. Thinking back on it, it had been that way since the attack. “Guess it's more stale trail-bread stew,” she sighed.

 

“I don't know about that,” came Louie's smug voice. Turning, the two saw him holding a thick mass of freshly-prepared meat in his hand. “How about we grind some of that bread up to bread these boar cutlets?” he grinned at the two. Merrill swallowed a sudden mouthful of drool.

 

“Sounds fine,” came Genie's voice from the other side of the camp. She had an armful of wood with her, and in one hand was a handful of some greenish-grey plant. “And we can use this to give it a little kick,” she added, motioning with the handful of plant matter.

 

“Wonderful!” exclaimed Melissa, swiftly grabbing the hard trail rations and knife. “Merrill, get the pan ready with some oil,” she delegated.

 

“Way ahead of you, Melissa,” came the eager reply. Merrill had the pan in hand, a little fresh oil already in it, and was situating it in the coals of the fire. “Hurry up with that breading, Melissa!” she urged the wheat blonde. Genie situated the firewood next to the fire, handed Melissa the herbs then retrieved the salt pouch from the supplies. Louie held the meat as Melissa cut smaller sections off it, coated them in the make-do breading, and carefully put them in the pan, where Merrill tended to the final cooking. Once the pan was full of meat, Louie moved back to the small pond to wash his hands.

 

“That was nice of you, Louie,” came Genie's voice as the young man scrubbed the blood from his hands. “How did you come up with it?” she wondered. Louie shrugged.

 

“Merrill loves boar meat,” he said, as if that explained it all. “Hey, think we can catch some of those fish, Genie?” he asked her, indicating some large fish in the pond. “We could smoke them over the fire and use that to replace the lost trail rations,” he suggested. Genie studied the fish.

 

“Maybe,” she said, “but it would probably be better to press on to Ohfun, don't you think? We've lost some time thanks to that unseasonable down-pour in the woods, and before long, the passes through the Razor Peaks - if there are any! - will be clogged with snow and un-passable,” she reminded him.

 

“You don't think we can make it, do you Genie?” asked the young man seriously. Genie blinked, frowning.

 

“I…” she paused, “I thought I didn't think we could make it, but…” she shrugged. “I suppose that I have been around you long enough to realize that you have no clue what the word `impossible' means,” she grinned. “Your insanity must be catching, too; I think that once you decide something, you find a way to make it work.”

 

“Just what are you saying, Genie?” wondered Louie. Unexpectedly, Genie gave him a warm smile.

 

“Nothing, really,” she said mysteriously. “Come on, let's get some food and get going,” she suggested. Together, the two strongest of the party returned to the campsite, arriving just as Merrill announced that the first of the cutlets was ready. With travel tea to wash it down with, the boar cutlets were consumed in short order, the camp was broken and the party once more set out, heading for the imposing, thin, high blades of the Razor Peaks.

 

-

 

“Your majesty,” said Carwes, bowing to his king. The white-haired man flipped a hand at him.

 

“Carwes,” he said, using the informal mode of address he had first used when they were nothing but a group of mercenaries trying to stabilize a kingdom racked by civil war over an incomplete and contested succession. “What do you hear from the party?” he asked.

 

“A message from Lily reports that they encountered and destroyed a band of unknown origin just over the border. She requested that I research certain ancient spells, but all you need to concern yourself with is the fact that the men they killed were under a spell to prevent them from betraying any information to us.”

 

“It would seem that Dardanel wasn't the only traitor, then,” sighed the king.

 

“There is the army you allowed to leave the field a year ago, your majesty. It was formed and led by the lords you dispossessed when you founded Ohfun,” reminded the magician. Rijarl nodded.

 

“That is true,” said the king, “but tell me, Carwes, have I grown senile, or does it feel like this is too complicated a plan for those jackals to put together? And speaking of complicated, where is Jenny?” he wondered.

 

“She is dealing with a different matter at the moment, but should come to see you as soon as it has been addressed, sire,” said the head of the Guild. Rijarl shook his head, a rueful smile on his face.

 

“I tell you, Carwes,” he chuckled, “I could not have hoped to ascend the throne without her unwavering support and fierce devotion, but there are times that I wonder about her! It would seem that there is something that she serves that is held higher than a summons from her king,” he laughed. Carwes smiled slightly.

 

“She is High Priestess of the Mylee order, your majesty, but I must say that I suspect that foremost she is a woman,” he replied mysteriously. Rijarl frowned.

 

“I confess, my old friend, that I do not follow that one,” he admitted. Carwes offered the king an apologetic shrug.

 

“Nor am I sure that I do, but there is truth to it, nonetheless, is there not?” he danced around the question.

 

“I guess if men and women understood each other, there would be no joy in life,” mused the king. “Have you heard of the other party?” he asked the old man. Carwes shook his head.

 

“I have not.”

 

“So, what then does my son and his party propose to do next?” wondered the king.

 

“He and his party are pushing northwest, my liege,” Carwes shared. Rijarl turned his head to study the large wall-map in his council chamber, where the two of them spoke.

 

“Northwest, you say?” he thought out loud, rising to trace some routes on the map. “Do they plan to circle the kingdom, seeking leads?” he asked rhetorically. Carwes hummed.

 

“It could be that they will do just that before it is said and done,” the magician replied. “Was there anything else, my king? I should really get that research started,” he reminded the king.

 

“Just one other thing,” said Rijarl. Carwes waited. “Today, an envoy from a certain neighboring kingdom arrived. He carried a signed proposal with him.” Carwes considered this.

 

“That does somewhat complicate things,” admitted the older magic-user. “What are you thinking of doing?” he asked. Rijarl sighed.

 

“Right now, I have the envoy cooling his heels in a comfortable suite in the far wing, and have already instructed a promising young cavalry captain of lance to keep the envoy very, very busy with troop reviews, seeing the shrines and the like while I purportedly review the proposal and consult with my councilors,” he said, a bit of distaste bleeding through the king's words. “Truthfully, my old friend, you and Jenny are the only ones I will speak with about this matter.”

 

“I am humbled by your trust, your majesty,” Carwes said honestly. Rijarl flipped his hand.

 

“Of all those in my court, you and Jenny are the only ones I can truly trust without reserve, old friend, for I know where your loyalty lies, and that you will never betray my trust.” Carwes wasn't sure how to respond to that, so he just inclined his head. “Well, I am keeping you from that important research,” said the king, still staring at the map. “Let me know immediately - day or night - if something urgent comes up or if you find out where that group is,” he directed.

 

“By your command, my king,” Carwes confirmed before exiting the room. He was almost to the main castle gate when he saw Jenny approaching. She was in the dress of campaigning Priestess of the order, rather than the more ornate dress of the High Priestess of the Mylee order, and in her hand was her pole hammer. Carwes grinned at the sight. It had been nearly twenty years since he last saw her dressed in the field dress and carrying her pole hammer. Even so, there was no doubt in his mind that she would be just as capable on the field of battle as she had been when Rijarl had subdued the kingdom and installed himself as the next king.

 

“Carwes,” smiled Jenny, stopping to speak with the head of the Guild. “How is he today?” she asked.

 

“He seemed somewhat frustrated, actually,” admitted Carwes. “There has been no word of them, and the prince's party has encountered some unexpected elements. To further abrade his nerves, an envoy from that certain place arrived with a signed proposal.”

 

Jenny frowned. “Signed? Already?” she wondered. “That seems…hasty of them,” she suggested, glancing around. Carwes mumbled under his breath, and a moment later, the two were standing in a dim mirror-image of the castle courtyard just inside the gate. “Thanks,” murmured Jenny. Carwes sighed.

 

“I'm worried, Jenny,” he admitted. She nodded.

 

“Suddenly, we have no time,” she agreed.

 

“Was your little meeting a success?” wondered Carwes, glancing significantly at the pole hammer in her hands and the dress she wore. Jenny giggled.

 

“After I explained the situation to him, he was more than happy to abide by the wishes of the temple,” she smiled viciously. “I think I now understand better why she prefers to live at the Guild, rather than at home,” she shared. Carwes raised an eyebrow.

 

“He is as bad as she claims he is?” wondered the man. Jenny hummed softly as she considered the question's merit.

 

“In a way, yes,” she decided, “though it is not necessarily as bad as she perceives it to be at the moment,” the High Priestess explained. “His tendency to talk non-stop is annoying, as is his habit to try and sell something to everyone he sees, but I believe that the loss of his wife has caused him to channel his grief into doting on his only daughter in the manner he is most familiar with,” she said. Carwes picked up on the priestess's underlying sympathy for the situation.

 

“You sympathize with them both, don't you?” Carwes said softly. Jenny nodded.

 

“I do,” she confirmed. “But I am more convinced than ever that doing as we discussed is the best thing we can do for all of them,” she said firmly. As Carwes drew breath to disperse the spell, she touched his arm, causing him to hold off on breaking the spell. “When this is done, let's take a little vacation, Carwes,” she said. “Just the three of us, like old times,” she clarified. Slowly, Carwes nodded.

 

“I think it would be a welcome change of pace, Jenny,” he said. A sudden smile parted his lips. “If you can convince Rijarl to do so, that is!” he chuckled. Jenny's smile was smugly certain.

 

“Want to bet on rather or not I can convince him?” she asked sweetly. Carwes snorted.

 

“I have known you too long to fall for such an obvious trap, Jenny,” he retorted cynically. Jenny giggled. Carwes dispersed the spell, and as soon as it was gone, the High Priestess turned toward the castle proper.

 

“I am off to soothe our old friend, then, Carwes,” she said. The old man nodded.

 

“Come by the Guild when you are done here, Jenny,” he said quietly. She nodded without looking back.

 

“I will be there,” she confirmed.

 

-

 

“Let's take a break,” gasped Louie. Behind him, Melissa and Genie could see the merit in that suggestion. They had left the tree-line the day before, climbing up a torturously-steep pass that, Louie assured them, would lead to another crevice-like valley, which would have a pass connected to it that would take them onward toward what Genie called a `divide'. Louie had used a magic spell to scout the way, and while he had seen the connecting passes, the climb was a different deal.

 

Merrill was in her element here, however. The small, nimble girl scampered up the steep, rock-strewn path carved by ice melt like it was a ladder, while the other three had to work at it. Used to working on roofs and walls, Merrill had the cat-like balance and climbing skills that marked all successful thieves. Also, being unencumbered was helping her. Genie and Louie were carrying their gear between them, being the two strongest. Melissa found herself thankful once more for the well-thought-out and perfectly-executed design of her order's field dress, which allowed her great freedom of movement due to the three-part skirt and the close-fitted bodice that allowed her full range of movement in her arms.

 

Merrill saw her fellow companions stop to catch their breath, and squatted down on a boulder a few yards farther up the pass. “Come on, guys,” she called back cheerfully, “we're gonna have to camp on this pass if you don't pick up the pace!” she taunted them playfully.

 

“If I could catch her right now, I'd tan her hide for that,” muttered Genie. Melissa nodded.

 

“I'd give her seconds,” agreed the blonde. Louie was more philosophical.

 

“I'll just wait and taunt her when we get into some terrain she can't do so well in,” he decided. Both Melissa and Genie knew that he wouldn't do that. “Besides, I need all my breath just to climb this ravine,” he admitted ruefully. Seeing the small brunette lay on her back and swing her legs as she hummed to herself carelessly, he scowled. “On second thought, maybe I would give her thirds,” he suggested. Genie and Melissa shared a look and a quiet giggle.

 

“You just want to get your hands on her bare bottom,” sniped Genie playfully. Louie blinked.

 

“I do not!” he denied. “Besides, you two suggested it, not me!” he reminded them.

 

“And what's wrong with my bare bottom, Louie?!” screamed the thief, flipping to her feet as easily as if she were standing from a chair. “You saying I'm not good enough for you?!” she yelled. Louie blinked.

 

“No, Merrill,” he replied calmingly, “I just said…”

 

“You said you didn't like my bare ass, jerk!” she cut him off, shaking her fist at him. “Maybe I'm not as curvy as Melissa, or as tones as Genie! So what?! Why don't you want me just as much as them?!” she demanded angrily.

 

“I like you just as much as I like them, Merrill,” Louie tried to calm the thief down.

 

“Pervert!” screamed Merrill. “I knew it the very first time I met you! You pulled my panties down before you even knew who I was! I knew you were a sex fiend!” she ranted.

 

“It was an accident!” Protested Louie. God! What does she want me to say?! he wondered, confused. First, she's mad because she thinks I don't like her, then she's mad because I tell her I do, and now, we're back to that incident?! What the hell?!

 

“So you really don't want to get me naked!” Merrill twisted his words once more. “Is it because I'm not as stacked as Melissa and Genie?! Why don't you want to get me naked, Louie?!” she demanded. Louie was completely lost. How did we get here from there? he wondered, trying to sort out how this whole thing had happened. Behind him, Genie was smirking, while Melissa hid a smile with her hand.

 

“I think we've rested enough,” muttered Louie, rising and starting to climb again. Guess I'll just shut up and climb the smart-ass out of Merrill, he decided grumpily. Glancing up, he caught a brief view of her panties as she nimbly scampered up the ravine. There's nothing wrong with her figure, he thought, even if she isn't as developed as Genie and Melissa, or Ila and Celecia. She's got a nicely balanced body, and she's curvy enough that no one would mistake her for a kid or a boy. And she's really nice to hold, too, he remembered. Blinking, he realized where his thoughts were going. Ever since that night with Melissa, I've been thinking about girls a lot more than I used to, he mused. For the rest of the day, Louie climbed in silence, lost in thought.

 

Nightfall found them huddled at the base of the next steep, narrow pass. With the sun down and the high altitude, it was bitterly cold, so they all huddled under the blankets, fully clothed. They had cut boughs from what few spindly evergreens they could find in the narrow valley for a mattress, and with the body heat from each other and the three wool blankets, they were reasonably warm. Well, most of them were.

 

Genie had lost most of her winter gear in the attack and subsequent trek, as had Louie. In her loincloth and halter top, the red-head was colder than Louie, who had his shirt and pants. The addition of her cloak didn't help much, but any gain was good. Louie and Melissa were next to each other, and Merrill had chosen to cuddle up to Melissa; apparently, her hackles were still up over the perceived insult to her womanly figure. Currently, the smaller girl was lying on top of Melissa, sound asleep like the blonde.

 

Against his side, he could feel Genie shivering. “Genie, you're going to catch cold,” he whispered. Against his side, he felt her shrug.

 

“Not a choice,” she shrugged it off. Louie made a choice, shifting a little to pull off his shirt.

 

“What are you doing, Louie?” wondered Genie, feeling him move.

 

“Here,” replied Louie, handing her the warm shirt. “Wear this; it will help keep you warm,” he explained. Genie felt the warm flesh of his chest against her arm and breasts. He's pretty well developed, she recalled, feeling her pussy begin to warm and tingle. And I can't think of a better way to warm up, she smiled to herself.

 

“I've got a better idea, Louie,” she murmured, slipping over to lie on top of him, her legs straddling him. With one hand, she reached down and tugged her loincloth loose, leaving it half-wrapped around her thigh. With that done, she untied her halter top, freeing her significant attributes from their snug support.

 

“What are you doing, Genie?” wondered Louie, licking his lips nervously as his dick stirred at the feeling of her hard nipples pressing into his chest.

 

“Shh,” soothed Genie, “Just follow my lead, Louie,” she instructed, snaking a hand down to his pants. With surprising ease, the tall, strong woman freed his erection, which immediately pushed against the rough, curly hair above her nest. Wrapping a hand around his shaft, she pumped him a few times, the better to judge his readiness and size. Hmm, larger than it looked; and it looked pretty big! she thought, licking her lips in anticipation. I can't recall feeling one this hard in a long time, she mused, squeezing his hard length, but not feeling the slightest give. How long has it been? Six years? she wondered, trying to recall. The last time I was with a man was when I was a merc in the Ohfun army…which makes it five and change, she determined. Fleetingly, she recalled her first encounter with Melissa, who was - at the time - an acolyte priestess in the Mylee temple. She had been introduced to Merrill, and from that time on, they had been a party of adventurers, though something had felt ever-so-slightly off until Louie came along.

 

Pushing those thoughts aside, she focused on what she was doing right then: namely, Louie. Kissing her fellow adventurer soundly, she wiggled her hand down to briefly caress his balls, moaning into the kiss with approval of their size and weight. I can honestly say that Louie has balls! she thought to herself, almost giggling with perverted glee. Touching a finger to her own steaming-hot sex, she found that she was more than ready to move forward. A brief wiggle and dip of her hips brought his tip into contact with her entrance. Genie hissed pleasurably. Right spot first time! It's like it was meant to fit me! Genie had always had to guide her past lovers to get them in the perfect position; but Louie's tip lined up with her so perfectly that she wondered if this was pre-ordained.

 

Shoving those irrelevant thoughts aside, she pushed herself down on his member, feeling her slippery lips eagerly split to allow him to squeeze into her passage. As the plum-sized head forced her open, she experienced once more the almost-but-not-quiet painful sensation of being stretched in her most delicate and private place. “Mm,” she purred, breaking the kiss. Arching her back, she rubbed her breasts against his chest as she felt his arms encircle her waist, his hands grabbing the crests of her hips and urging her onward. “Yes,” she murmured in his ear, “you're doing good so far, Louie,” she urged him on. Working together, she swiftly managed to get him all into her. “Gods,” breathed the barbarian reverently, feeling the iron-hard length pulse in her sensitive sex.

 

With her pubic bone tight to his, she could feel his tip mated to the entrance to her womb; and it felt like heaven. I wonder how Melissa managed to get him all the way in her first time? it occurred to her fleetingly. Merrill will have to be careful, or she will get torn by this wonderful tool, she made a mental note. Her thoughts were sidetracked by Louie dipping his head to lick her swollen, stiff nipple. Sucking in a breath, she bent her back a little more, giving him full access to her aching tips. Immediately, Louie engulfed her right one in his mouth, sucking on it savagely. The short spikes of occasional pain only fueled her fires. With her strong abdominal muscles, she began to grind her hips into his, fucking herself on his hard manhood. Louie swiftly got the hint, and soon, he was using his handgrips on her hips to drive her hard onto his flesh sword, pulling back until only his tip was wedged in her, then slamming forward to assail her womb with his tool.

 

Muted squishing sounds mingled with soft grunts, groans, sighs and gasps as the two spiraled toward a shared orgasm. Louie shifted his grip to her muscular ass cheeks, seeking to drive deeper into her, while Genie displayed her unexpected flexibility by raising and parting her knees until she was doing a kind of splits over his hips. She was using one hand to steady herself, back bent to offer her large breasts to Louie, while the other hand was knotted in his hair, holding him to her breasts, which were covered in his drool. His hips were thrusting up into her receptive sex like mad, his hands pulling her cheeks apart as he penetrated her to the very hilt. Through the haze of her burgeoning orgasm, she could feel small spikes of pain from her cervix from the force of his thrusts, but the pain was consumed and turned to pleasure by her highly aroused state.

 

“Genie!” mumbled Louie around her breast, his sack tightening as he bottomed out in her.

 

“Now, Louie!” she rasped, feeling his entire member twitch in her. “Load me up! Fill me with your cum, my champion!” hissed the woman as his first shot did just that. She was shocked to find that even through her orgasm, she could clearly feel his thick, hot cum boil into her womb, shot after shot. Gods, no one has ever made me feel like this! she thought, her vision going white. I want…no, need! more of this! was her last conscious thought before she slumped down on top of Louie, knocked out cold by the sheer intensity of her climax. Beneath her, Louie was panting heavily, his dick gradually softening in her passage.

 

“Genie?” he wheezed, managing to get a hand up to feel her neck. Reassured by her strong pulse and warm skin, he lay still, catching his breath. As he rested, he instinctively hugged her to him securely. She's surprisingly nice to hold, he thought, inhaling a nose full of her scent. Strong, but feminine, with a slight muskiness to it, it vaguely reminded him of Ila's scent when she worked up a sweat; usually when around him. Grinning foolishly, he wondered what his best friend was doing right then. He passed into sleep without realizing it.

 

Half an hour later, Genie stirred, having recovered from the most intense orgasm she had ever had. Finding Louie to be sleeping, she laid her head down on his shoulder, relishing the feeling of their bare bodies pressing together under the blanket. In her belly, she could almost feel his thick seed filling her womb and beginning to seep out of her. Silently sighing, she hurriedly straightened her loincloth, trapping his cum inside her. Can't waste any! she thought, not even realizing that she was thinking that. Feeling a slippery tug on her upper thigh, she realized that Louie would have some problems of his own if she didn't do something.

 

Grinning in anticipation, the tall red-head carefully worked her way down to his hips, finding his significant manhood to be semi-hard and covered in their mixed cum. Left alone, it will dry and be uncomfortable. It could even be painful, if it dries his dick to his pants or leg, she thought, opening her mouth and engulfing the large tip. Working her tongue and lips, she studiously cleaned every last trace of their mixed cum from his tool, working her way down his shaft as she did so. To her mild annoyance, she found that she couldn't take his entire length in her mouth. Well, I'll just have to practice until I can take all of this in my mouth! she vowed. After she cleaned the shaft, she licked his balls clean before gently pulling his pants back up. Done, she resumed her position on top of him, yawning as she settled her head on his shoulder once more. Ila's one lucky girl, she thought as she drifted off to sleep.

 

-

 

“Excuse me, miss, but would you be a priestess with the Mylee order?” came a voice from behind Isabelle. Turning, the tall, elegant blonde saw a portly middle-aged man behind her. The party had reached a small township deep in the heart of the kingdom to the west of Ohfun. Since the encounter with the supposed bandits just over the border, the party had been pushing hard and fast, following a route that she and Littler had decided would cover the most ground in their search. This township was the first major rest for the party in nearly three weeks, and the girls were looking forward to a long, hot bath and soft beds.

 

“Yes, sir, I am a priestess of the Mylee order,” confirmed Isabelle. “Why do you ask?” she wondered. It wasn't like their order was known for their charity work or for their benevolent pubic service. Theirs was an order devoted to a god of war, after all, and most didn't approach a priestess of Mylee without cause to do so. Her hand absently tightened on the shaft of her pole hammer.

 

“I thought you'd be one of the same order as that last one,” he chuckled to himself. Isabelle's attention locked fully on the portly man.

 

“Other one? You have seen another priestess of Mylee?” she demanded curtly. The man nodded.

 

“Sure have,” he confirmed. “Several weeks ago, a group of strangers came into town, looking for provisions. One of them wore a pretty dress just like yours; carried the same pole hammer you do, too. She introduced herself as a priestess of Mylee,” he explained, peering at Isabelle. “Are all your priestesses blondes?” he wondered. Isabelle's eyes narrowed slightly.

 

“No,” she said, snapping her fingers. Immediately, the six acolyte priestesses came to her. Looking at the white-clad girls - all holding quarter staffs in a very competent manner - he swallowed. “Tell me about this other priestess,” she directed the man, her forefinger absently tapping the ash shaft of the pole hammer in her grip. “Her name?” she prompted the man. He scratched his chin.

 

“Can't recall her giving it, actually,” he admitted. “All she said was that she was a priestess of Mylee,” he said. Isabelle stepped forward a half-step. “She and her companions traded for some supplies, and moved on,” he finished.

 

“These companions,” Isabelle said, her tone clipped and distant, “describe them,” she demanded.

 

“One was tall; taller than you, even. Red-head, that one - braided. All the way to her rear, and she had a big sword on her back, another at her hip,” he grinned. “She didn't seem to hold too much with modest dress, either!” he nearly leered at the memory. “Oh, seems something happened to her left cheek; it has some weird red mark on it, too.”

 

“Genie,” murmured Isabelle. The barbarian fighter was hard to miss in a crowd; that was for certain. “Who else was with the priestess?” pressed the blonde.

 

“The other girl was small - thief, too! After they were gone, a lot of stuff turned up missing where they had been,” sniffed the man. “She ought to straighten herself out before she ends up on the gallows,” he muttered in disapproval. Isabelle ignored his editorial comments.

 

“Anyone else?” she pressed. Once more, he scratched his chin.

 

“Their porter was some long-haired lout,” he related. “I think the short one called him `loser' or `loose' or…”

 

“Louie?” prompted Isabelle, stepping forward aggressively. The man took a quick step back from her aggressive reaction.

 

“It could have been Louie,” he conceded.

 

“Who cares about that idiot?” came Anna's voice, “What about Miss Melissa?!” A glare from Isabelle silenced the acolyte priestess. “Sorry, Miss Isabelle,” she apologized contritely.

 

“That is Melissa's Valiant Champion you are speaking of,” said the blonde tightly. “You will show proper respect for him when you speak of him, is that clear?” she warned the girl.

 

“Yes, Miss Isabelle,” the six junior priestesses chorused in unison.

 

With the leader of `Melissa's Trio' slapped down, the elegant blonde turned back to the man. “Where did they say they were bound for?” she demanded.

 

“I…don't recall them saying,” he said. “They didn't talk much to us, other than for the supplies, you understand,” he said. “Maybe old Brille at the gate would know?” he suggested. Isabelle spun on her heel.

 

“Thank you, sir,” she said curtly, making a bee line for Littler. Behind her, the six under-priestesses took up a wedge formation by habit. Littler saw her coming, and when she arrived, he was ready.

 

“What did you learn?” he asked her directly.

 

“They came through here a few weeks ago,” said the priestess. “I need to find someone named Brille - probably by the gate - and ask if he happened to know where they were going,” she said. Lily looked at the expression on the face of the blonde.

 

“Jackinson and I will find this person and ask,” she said, glancing at Jackinson, who nodded. “You should accompany the prince; this is not Ohfun, and leaving your champion unguarded is ill-advised for one as seasoned as you,” Lily less-than-subtly pointed out to the fuming blonde. “We will look for you in a tavern shortly. Have an apprentice stand outside so we don't have to check all the taverns in the city,” she went on. “And you should take this opportunity to get some hot food, as well,” she suggested. Without another word, the smallest member of the party and the oldest member of the group set off toward the gate to the township.

 

“We're not apprentices,” muttered Joan, scowling at the small sorceress's back.

 

“And she can't tell us what to do!” agreed Gannet.

 

“But I can, and we will do as she suggests,” said Isabelle firmly. “If, of course, that meets your approval, your Highness,” she deferred to Littler.

 

“It makes sense, Isabelle,” he nodded. “And I am looking forward to a good, hot meal,” he smiled. Isabelle smiled back.

 

“As am I, my lord,” she assured him.

 

“And maybe a bath,” hoped one of the acolyte priestesses. Littler chuckled.

 

“We will see if that can be arranged,” promised the young prince, further boosting his standing with the young girls.

 

By the time that Lily and Jackinson sat down at the worn table that held the Prince and Isabelle - the two closest tables being occupied by the acolyte priestesses - it was well past sundown. One look at the face of Jackinson told Littler a lot. “What happened?” he asked apprehensively.

 

“Brille said that they didn't say where they were going, but he did hear them talking about crossing the Black Tree Reach,” said Jackinson. Littler blinked.

 

“Are you sure?” he asked. Jackinson nodded.

 

“Yes, my lord, as insane as it sounds, Brille swears that is what they were talking about as they left.”

 

“Surely, not even Louie is stupid enough to attempt to cross the Black Tree Reach,” said Isabelle slowly, disbelieving the report from Jackinson.

 

“Don't bet on it, Isabelle,” came Lily's soft voice. “It is certainly something he would do,” she disagreed. “In any event, it is not that that concerns me,” she said. Jackinson glanced at his younger partner.

 

“Then, what is on your mind, Lily?” wondered Littler. Them going into the Black Tree Reach doesn't bother her as much as something else?!

 

“We are not the only ones to ask about them,” said the small girl. “Brille said that another group - five or six men in light armor - asked about them a few days after they left. These men went after them, but no one has come back,” said the sorceress. Littler digested the information.

 

“What do we do, my liege?” asked Jackinson. Isabelle watched Littler as well.

 

“Tomorrow morning, we head for the Black Tree Reach,” he said resolutely.

 

“Your Highness!” hissed Jackinson, alarmed.

 

“It is far too dangerous, my Champion,” agreed Isabelle. “I hate to admit it, but their party is more capable than ours, and to risk the Black Tree is…ill-advised,” she edited herself before she said `madness'.

 

“I will go with you, Littler,” said Lily quietly; firmly.

 

“It is too risky…!” began Isabelle, only to be cut off.

 

“Enough. It is decided. We are going after them, Black Tree or not,” said Littler firmly. For an instant, Jackinson could clearly see Rijarl in place of his son.

 

“Yes, my liege,” he said, bowing his head to the crown prince.

 

“As you will, my Champion,” capitulated Isabelle. Littler looked around, seeing the expressions on the faces of his companions. For a moment, he wondered if he was making the wrong decision, but then, he recalled what Louie told him the day of the attempted coup. Right or wrong, I must stand by my own choices, he resolved.

 

“So, tonight, we must enjoy a good, hearty meal, some quality drink, and find a good inn. A leisurely bath and a good nights' sleep will better prepare us for what is to come,” he said, forcing a smile. “After we check our provisions tomorrow morning, we will pick up the trail of our wayward heroes,” he proclaimed.

 

An hour and a half later, the party had paid for their rooms and were preparing to bathe for the last time for who knew how long. In the small room that served as the bathing room, the girls were up first, two large-volume wine casks had been sawed in half to give them four tubs just large enough for two - if the bathers were small enough and/or friendly enough with each other. The acolyte priestesses were used to sharing bathing facilities at the temple, while Isabelle had become more used to private bathing. Still, with the limitation on facilities, she had no choice.

 

Once the door was barred - and the priestesses' weapons were in easy reach - the women quickly stripped down and carefully climbed into the tub, eager for the warm water to relax them and the Temple-made soap to cleanse them. Isabelle saw that the six acolyte priestesses had automatically paired up in three of the four tubs, leaving her with Lily. Mentally shrugging, she used a length of ribbon to secure her elegant curls up out of the water. With the time it took to dry her hair and re-curl it, she reluctantly skipped washing her hair. Lily did a similar thing, only using a large bandana to secure her own lower-back-length cinnamon hair on top of her head.

 

The relationship between Lily and Isabelle had been distant for the most part, and had suffered from Lily's participation in the coup attempt, though she had accepted Littler's wish that Lily remain with them. Jackinson had formed a new, better relationship with the small sorceress, but Isabelle had found it hard to approach the girl before the mess at the castle, and ever since, had made little effort to re-form their relationship; not that Lily had gone out of her way to do so either. Easing herself into the tub, she watched Lily finish stripping off her clothes, which were much more complicated than the priestess's own battle dress or the acolytes' more basic field wear.

 

As the small girl set aside her lace and cotton knickers, Isabelle studied her naked form. Blinking, she saw some faint scars on the girl's back, as well as some on her sides and thighs. When Lily turned to get into the tub, Isabelle saw a few more marks on her chest and belly. “What are you staring at?” came the sorceress's soft voice, though the edge was clearly heard.

 

“Nothing,” replied Isabelle, trying to project casual disregard.

 

“I would have thought that the priestesses of Mylee would be used to scars, given their devotion to a god of war,” said the girl, sinking up to her lower lip in the water.

 

“We are,” shot back Isabelle, “but you are not a priestess of Mylee,” the blonde pointed out, “so it is odd to see someone so young bearing so many scars,” she suggested. Lily fixed her with a gaze.

 

“Magic is not so safe as one would think,” she said at last, looking away.

 

“Somehow, I don't think those were caused by magic,” muttered Isabelle.

 

“Think what you like,” came Lily's reply. “I will be staying with Jackinson,” she added, turning the topic away from herself and killing the old one. “You will be with Littler,” she said. Isabelle blinked, the other priestesses going silent.

 

“I…I couldn't leave you in a room with a man, Lily!” she protested weakly. Share a room with Prince Littler?! she thought, her mind overwhelmed with the idea. He and I, alone in a room? Oh...!

 

“You suggest that Jackinson would molest me?” challenged Lily.

 

“Never! Sir Jackinson is the very soul of honor!” fired back Isabelle. Lily smiled a humorless smile.

 

“Then I am perfectly safe,” she stated. “Whereas you should attend your Valiant Champion, should you not? Is that not the duty of a Follower?” she pressed. Isabelle wondered if Lily had somehow learned of her lie. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the six acolyte priestesses watching her keenly, most with jealous looks on their faces.

 

“You are correct,” she said as calmly and gracefully as she could. “If my champion has no objections, I will gladly share a room with him,” she pronounced. Lily bit back the retort that sprang to her lips.

 

“How noble of you,” she said instead, plucking the bar of soap from Isabelle's hand. She finished bathing several minutes before the others did, dried off, dressed and made her way to the middle room of the three that they had taken for the night. Lightly knocking once, she entered, seeing Jackinson and Littler studying the map. “The baths will be free shortly,” she said. “Also, Isabelle and I decided that I will share a room with Jackinson, while she shares one with you, Littler,” said the sorceress, not meeting the crown prince's surprised eyes.

 

“That's hardly proper…!” began the young prince.

 

“Considering the situation, I have to disagree, my lord,” Jackinson sided with Lily. “She is, after all, your Follower, given the duty by Mylee himself, is she not? Besides, when outside Ohfun, it is imperative that you think of your safety, my liege,” he reminded the young man.

 

“But…! Lily's reputation…!” he tried once more. Lily snorted.

 

“My reputation is of no matter, Littler,” she stated. “Besides, what could damage it more than my involvement in the attempted coup last year?” she asked rhetorically.

 

“If any speak ill of her, I will champion her,” Jackinson assured the prince.

 

“Besides,” added Lily as Jackinson picked up his pack, “you snore,” she added, a soft giggle escaping her lips as she said it. Littler twitched.

 

“I do not!” he insisted. “Little brat,” he smiled at her, seeing her stick her tongue out at him. “Get a good night's sleep, Lily,” he added warmly. Jackinson followed her to the room on the right of Littler's room. Once inside the room, he turned to Lily.

 

“Is something wrong, Lily?” he asked her directly. She shook her head. “Something happened between you and Isabelle in the baths,” he stated, certain of his gut intuition.

 

“Just girl stuff,” Lily said, not looking at him. “Thanks for helping me out,” she added. Jackinson shrugged.

 

“I feel it my duty to do all I can to prepare my prince for the duties of the crown,” he explained. “And I cannot in good conscious consider him prepared if he has no experience with women, now can I?” he asked innocently. Lily giggled softly.

 

“Isabelle should be able to provide him with some experience, then?” she asked archly, settling on the bed. Jackinson blinked, remembering that he was speaking to a young girl.

 

“That, young lady,” he said firmly, “is not something you should be speaking of so carelessly.”

 

“What makes you think I don't know about men and women?” she asked him, her tone curious. Pulling a soft wool cloak over her , she clutched her staff close to her. “I will see you in the morning, Sir Jackinson,” she bade him goodnight. Jackinson bowed in return, court-perfect.

 

“And I you, Lady Lily Renard,” he returned. Stepping outside the door, he paused, frowning. What happened between her and Isabelle in the bath? he wondered. Her behavior rang false to his senses, and while he was sure that it wasn't something he should interfere with, he was worried about the girl.

 

-