Tales of Somneria - Ep 6-2: The Pharaoh's Guard

Tales of Somneria
Episode 6
Part 2
The Pharaoh’s Guard


   Blushing, Mercy stepped out of the Pharaoh’s chambers, into a gilded sandstone hall. A large gap allowed the sun to filter in from the ceiling, but the presence of strange, mist-producing plants kept the room cool. Standing in the hall, waiting for her, were the rest of her companions - Fiona, Lunaria, Song, and Winnifry. Also among them was the woman from before, Laila, and another woman Mercy did not recognize. Fiona lit up at the sight of her companion.

   “Mercy! Are you alright?” the pixie asked, a smile on her face. Mercy could only smile back, but as composed as she may have seemed she was in fact trying desperately to breathe normally. 
   “Yes! Yes, yes, it was just exhaustion, I-I’m fine!” she said, putting an iota more into the affirmation than she needed. 

   Laila, however, wasted no time with pleasantries, immediately falling to one knee in the presence of Shira. She cleared her throat, and understanding, the others followed suit - Lunaria doing so with a sort of mechanical ease, Winnifry with the same grace and elegance she always bore. Fiona knelt with a hint of a flourish, as such pleasantries were familiar to her, and Song knelt last, only after noticing everyone else drop to the floor - her kneeling of a jerky, stuttered sort. 

   Only Mercy still stood, stammering somewhat in confusion, not sure how to respond - but Shira quickly soothed her, placing one soft hand on her shoulder and gesturing with the other. “Please, rise. There is no need for such submission now - after all, it is to all of you that I owe my life,” the Pharaoh said calmly, voice a soothing butter. Mercy’s breathing slowed, and she found she couldn’t take her eyes off of Shira’s face, watching her lips move as she formed words. 

   Quickly, each of them stood, and Shira outstretched a hand to Laila. “Dear Laila, I would like to introduce you to these people, and I would be most pleased if you would introduce them to me. Is that acceptable to you?” she asked. 

   Laila nodded without hesitation. “Of course, my lady!” she said. Mercy took note of this - it was clear that this woman’s regal presence was so strong, she could easily command anybody to do anything for her, and who would they be to refuse? And yet, the simple fact that she had asked her own servant for such a trivial thing as permission to introduce her suggested to Mercy a sort of greater character than that, as though she were either aware of her royal power and strove to prevent her abuse of it, or was so innocent and well-mannered that she was just unaware of it entirely - both of which being admirable in their own rights to the buxom dark mage. 

    Smiling, the Pharaoh turned to Mercy’s companions, gesturing to Laila. “I’m sure you are already acquainted, but please allow me to formally introduce you all - this is Laila. She is a mercenary from the southern desert, but by virtue of her skill I have decided to contract her as my personal bodyguard.” 

   Fiona blinked. “But, aren’t you Pharaoh? Queen? Why do you need to go out and hire your own personal bodyguards? Aren’t there, like, elite palace guards or something?” she asked. 
   The other woman - the one Mercy didn’t recognize - spoke up then. “Watch your tongue, Pixie! You speak to Pharaoh Shira, Queen of Denin, Lady of Tutekh, Mistress of the Endless Sands! I will not stand for such-”
   “Peace, Nidara. She is foreign, and knows not of our ways - she is forgiven if she requires some clarification,” Shira said, cutting off the other woman. The woman she addressed relented, stepping down and averting her eyes.
   “Yes, of course, my lady…” 

   Closer now to her, Mercy could scrutinize the form of this Nidara more closely. Like Shira, she had olive-toned skin, a earthy tone that was beautiful in its own, warm way. She was taller than Shira, resulting in a fairly imposing height - much of that length, she could surmise, was the result of the woman’s impressively long legs, although they were obscured entirely by a plain white silken skirt that reached the floor. She wore a sort of shawl over her head of fine, yet dusty brown and green cloth - Mercy was reminded of the old rugs she’d seen in the attic of the Lyceum when she looked at it. The woman’s modest chest was hidden beneath her robes, only the slightest bump betraying her femininity. Her face was severe, sharp and angled at the chin and nose, but exotically beautiful in its own way. Although, admittedly, Mercy felt more intimidated than anything by the tall woman. 

   “Forgive Nidara. As High Priestess, she is accustomed to protocol and the niceties of court life - but I hold no such requisites for adventurers such as yourselves. At length, to answer your question, miss…?”
   “Alesthid. Fiona Alesthid,” Fiona replied, giving a small curtsy in proper fashion. Shira nodded, smiling. 
   “Yes. You see, Miss Alesthid, ever since my grandfather was Pharaoh, there has been an… unusual tradition among the royal line. Once, long ago, my grandfather was saved by an adventurer from a faraway land. In tribute to their valor, he offered that they stay, and remain as his personal bodyguard - to his surprise, they accepted. So it became tradition in my family to accept as personal guard only those of tremendous personal character from far, distant lands. Despite her occupation, Laila proved herself to me when she foiled an attempt on my life - and so I was honored to have her as my guard.” 

   Laila nodded, a sort of bashful smile on her face. “Well, it was hardly anything special,” she started to say, but a look from Shira stopped her. It wasn’t so much a commanding or silencing look, but more one of suggestion - as a mother might look at her child to say “Do you really think so?” 
   “And so… that brings me to you…” she said, gesturing for Mercy to join her. With shaky legs, Mercy stepped towards the Queen, taking her side. “Mercy Thistlebane,” she said imperiously, the Elf in question finding herself kneeling immediately. Her companions blinked, but upon seeing her act this way quickly took the knee as well. 
   ”What? Mercy, what’s happening? You never submit to anybody!” Fiona thought, confused. 

   “Mercy Thistlebane, you and your companions have proven yourselves to be women of the finest caliber - in fighting a horrid beast, an Olghoi Korkhoi, even when it would have been easier and safer for you to run. Not only did you fight and slay the beast, sparing untold citizens from a gruesome fate, but you also saved my own person, rendering me in your debt. So it is that, in the tradition of my forebears, I seek to repay you - remain with me as my personal guards and retainers, and I shall provide you with all you shall ever want. Please, consider my offer.”  

   Mercy smiled breathlessly up at Shira. “Y...Ye…” before she could finish her thought, however, she turned and noticed her companions - all with varying degrees of opinion clearly writ upon their faces. Mercy stopped herself. “I… Allow me to discuss this with them, please, your highness.”

   Shira nodded, gesturing for Mercy to rise. “Of course - take as much time as you see fit, noble knight of mine.”

    Mercy hurried over to her companions, blushing somewhat. “What do you think, girls? Come on, this is the best job we’ve gotten in… ever!”
    Fiona nodded. “Yeah, I know Mercy. But it just feels… sort of wrong, don’t you think? I mean, weren’t we going to go to Ednivale?”
    Mercy nodded in concession. “Yes, yes, to try and maybe find work - but we have a job here! And it pays well, and we’d be in the lap of luxury! C’mon girls, we won’t find a better offer anywhere else!”
    Winnifry nodded with a smile. “I agree - at least, I certainly think the offer sounds tempting - besides, I would very much like to learn more of this place. It does seem quite fun, no?”
    Lunaria scoffed. “Fun or no, some of us have other things to do. By riches or by scraps, I have a mission to complete - I hope you understand if I don’t stay long, then, Mercy.” 

   Mercy’s heart skipped a beat at that. “Lu… Lunaria? You’d… do that?” she asked. 
   Lunaria blinked. “Yes. I have… other commitments. You understand, don’t you?” 
   Song nodded as well. “Yeah, Mercy, like… I mean, I’m alright with this, for the most part - well except for the heat because oh my gods it’s so godsdamned hot here! - but, I mean… you can’t just do this and expect that everyone will be on board, you know? Some of us have… other things to do. Lunaria has her sister and… well, I don’t know how long I’d want to stay. I’ve never been good at sitting in one place for long…” 
   Mercy nodded, swallowing. “Y-yes… you’re right, forgive me… I was… selfish…”
   Winnifry raised an eyebrow. “Dear Mercy, if I didn’t know better, I’d say there were some reasons at hand besides monetary gain that were compelling you to stay. Is there anything… well, I shan’t be so bold!” 
   Mercy blinked at her. “Bold? Bold how? What do you mean?!” 
   Winnifry threw up her hands slightly in a deflective gesture. “Nothing! No, no, I was merely going to suggest that perhaps you and the Pharaoh had accrued some sort of… rapport, shall we say? But obviously that is not the case, and as you have justly said this is indeed the best job we can hope to acquire for some ti-”
   “Okay, okay, look - I’m going to take the offer, alright? And… it would mean a lot to me if you all stayed and helped me. At least… at least for a while.” Mercy’s breathing had grown somewhat more ragged now, face blushing brightly. Behind her, Shira waited patiently, admiring the art on the sandstone walls of her reception hall. 
   Fiona put a hand out on Mercy’s shoulder, comforting her. “It’s alright Mercy. We’ll stay with you, for awhile. As long as each of us is able, okay?” she offered, giving her other companions a look. They all nodded, each affirming that they would stay with the Dark Mage in their own brief statements. 
   “Sure thing, Mercy. We’re with you!”
   “Yes, I’ve no problem staying a bit longer here.”
   “Well, if everybody’s staying, then I can afford to tarry a bit longer.” 
   Mercy smiled weakly. “Thanks, girls… Really, it means a lot.”

   Song then gave Mercy a big hug, squeezing her tightly. “Besides!” she said, voice lowering to a whisper as she narrowed her eyes slyly. “I’d hardly want to miss out on Mercy getting a girlfriend!”

   Mercy gasped, stepping back, stammering. “W-Well I-I-I-Song! I-I don’t even l-like women like that!”
    Fiona laughed at that, winking at Mercy. “Sure thing, Mercy. Whatever you say!” she cooed, nudging the Elf in the ribs gently with her elbow.
    “Oh shut up, Fiona! N-Not you too!” Mercy said, batting her hand away, before blushing and speaking more softly. “B-Besides… She’s a Queen. She’d never want anything with a simple adventurer like me, right?”

    Nobody said anything for a moment. Then, Lunaria spoke. “Well, given the amount of times you’ve been kidnapped and trussed up, I think it’s safe to say that there are plenty of people who would want something to do with you,” she said matter-of-factly.
    Mercy gasped, stammering, but unable to form words. Fiona gave her a look while Song snickered. Lunaria blinked. “What? It’s true.”
    “Grgrgrrr! Sh-Shut up! I’m gonna go tell Shira we’re taking the job, damnit!” Mercy shot back, before turning back, fuming. Lunaria blinked, genuinely confused at her offence, while Fiona just rolled her eyes and sighed. 

   Meanwhile, Mercy approached Shira, who seemed to be waiting quite eagerly for her. “Well? What is your decision?” the pharaoh asked. 
   Mercy smiled, composing herself before bowing with a flourish of her dark grey cape. “Your highness, I, Mercy, Dark Mage of House Thistlebane, would be honored and privileged to serve as your guard. My companions, as well, offer their services for at least a period, and I can vouch for their honor, dignity, and capability,” she said. 

   Shira smiled, eyes lighting up as Mercy spoke. She clapped twice happily. “Oh, what joy! Dearest Mercy, you do not understand what a weight you have lifted from my burdened heart. Nothing makes me glad more truly than what you have told me - I promise you, whatever you require, it shall be yours. You will receive none but the best accommodations I can spare - you and each of your companions!” 

   Mercy gave another slight nod, obscuring the faint blush on her cheeks. “Whatever you will, my Lady,” she said. 
   Shira reached forward with one hand again. “Come, come, Mercy! There is something I wish to show you. As for your companions… Laila, dear?”
   “Yes, milady?” 
   “Would you be so kind as to take these fine women for some sparring? I’d like to be sure that they are all in tip-top shape, if you don’t mind. Nidara, please do oversee them,” she added, nodding to the High Priestess. 
   Nidara bowed deeply. “It will be done, milady,” she said, before turning to the adventurers, thinly-veiled contempt in her eyes as she looked at Fiona and the rest of her companions. “Come. Follow, and I will lead to the Royal Training Grounds,” she said with a flick of her wrist. 

   As the adventurers followed, Fiona fell in line last, just behind Song’s bouncing steps. Following Nidara and Laila, she made one last glance at Mercy, who seemed to be speaking animatedly with Shira - a warm, beaming smile on the face of the young Pharaoh. Fiona sighed, before turning her attention back to those in front of her as she made her way to the palace training grounds. 

   ”For your sake and ours, Mercy, I hope you know what you’re doing…”

***

   “Ahhhh…” Bell sighed, positively sinking as she shut her clear blue eyes, a contented smile on her face as she slumped down the cool marble wall. Steam billowed around her, the humidity making her hair damp and moist, short blue tresses smooth and flat instead of the slightly ruffled appearance she usually had. She wore nothing but her undergarments and a towel, wrapped around her slight, pert form tightly to preserve her modesty, her long, bare legs crossed. 

   The door opened, and Bell opened one eye. “Oh… Hey, Llewellyn…” she softly greeted, too relaxed to much bother herself with standing up to greet her companion. 

   The half-elf, half-vampire maiden had similarly denuded herself as Bell, now dressed in a white towel of the same sort. Her sparkly red eyes glittered as she cautiously stepped into the steam room, a weak smile forming on her face. “Hey Bell… How’s the steam?” 

   Bell let out another contented sigh. “Oh, it’s great… I’ve missed this, so much…” she said, closing her eyes as she let herself relax again. Llewellyn sat down opposite the Pixie, whose shimmering blue wings were currently folded against her back - although Bell couldn’t feel anything with them, it was easier to recline folding them like this, and gave a placebo of relaxation, of sorts, to the beleaguered girl. 

   “Hmm? Do you do this often?” Llewellyn asked, genuinely curious as she, too, leaned back into the wall and relaxed.
   “Often? Well, no, no… but occasionally, Lady Minerva would treat Fiona and I to a spa day. Those were such good times…” 
   “Oh? You and Fiona were close?” 
   Bell blushed bright, remembering that one time they’d spent the night together. “Y-Yeah. You could say that,” she said. 
   Llewellyn nodded, but due to her closed eyes did not catch Bell’s blush. “Ah. Lunaria and I were close too, I guess. Sort of.”
   “Oh?” Bell asked, curious. 
   “She was always the one who took on the big sister role. Even Lunette wouldn’t be quite as… I’m not sure what the word for it is. But Lunette was… well, she sort of did her own thing. I mean, we all did, in a way. But Lunaria was always there for me and Lilith. I think she knew that there was a big scary world out there, and she wanted to protect us from it. That’s why she learned how to use a bow so early.” 
   “A bow? Lunaria is an archer?” 
   “Oh yes. One of the best, I’d say. She started learning to use a bow when she was just a kid… Gods, I don’t even remember how old I was when she did that. I must’ve been barely five or six. Lunette didn’t learn how to use magic properly until another year.”
   Bell smiled. “Sounds like your sister was a very protective girl.” 

   Llewellyn chuckled. “Was? She still is. Even after I left.” 
   Bell opened her eyes at that. “Left? Your home? How come?” 
   Llewellyn shrugged. “My father’s side of the family wanted me to visit. I wanted to learn to be an adventurer, just like Lunette, and just like we all thought Lunaria would become. Besides, I was always the most… Elven, of us, I suppose. And after Father passed, I think Mother wanted some way to… make a connection, with his side of the family. Even if they didn’t approve of our… well, you know.” 
   “Vampirism?” 
   “Yes. That. Anyway, I lived with them for most of my teenage years. I only moved back with my Mother after I heard what happened to Lunette…” 
   “Oh….” Bell replied, somewhat downcast and not sure how to go forward. 
    The two girls sat in silence for a moment, letting the soft sound of bubbling water beneath their feet fill the void. 

   Eventually, Bell spoke again. “So… what was it like? Going on adventures, and stuff…”

   “Hmm? I didn’t do much, I’m afraid. I was just learning how to make myself scarce, really, from a tutor in town. He taught me a couple things, but Lunette had her thing and I had to move back with Mother. So I just had a few adventures, I guess. I helped him deal with this crime ring one time, you see, and-”

   “A crime ring!? Oh, that sounds terrifying! I never understood how Fiona could get excited by such an idea!” Bell blurted out, wings fluttering slightly in agitation as she felt a surge of sympathy-fear for Llewellyn. The young half-vampire only laughed.
    “Oh, it wasn’t so bad! I mean, sure, I got drugged, knocked out, and tied up, but hey - live and learn, right? Lunaria always said the only difference between she who succeeds and she who fails is that the latter refuses to stand up when she falls.”
    Bell nodded, her fluttering heart slowing down. “Your sister sounds so… wise!” she said.
    Llewellyn laughed. “Maybe. In a way, she’s probably the wisest person I know.” A chuckle. “And in others, she’s just the daftest!” Llewellyn laughed again. Bell couldn’t help but laugh too.
    “Oh, I know exactly what you mean! It’s the same with Fiona! That girl, always trying to go off on adventures while her mother is breaking her back keeping the hounds at bay. But, oh, if you ever saw her in a duel, or at the head of her peers - why, she’s the sharpest around!”
    Llewellyn laughed in agreement. “Yes, she must be a very sharp dart indeed, to have been thrown so far so fast!”  
    “Yes, yes, very! Oh, Fiona… We had such a time as children. She was my only friend, you know? Even if I wasn’t noble like her, she chose to befriend me.”
    “Mm. Social class is such a bother, isn’t it? I had the same problems with my father’s family, and their stuck-up, so-called ‘friends.’” Llewellyn scoffed. “What farce!”
    “Mmhmm!” Bell nodded sharply. “When I was little, all the other kids mocked me for having weak wings. Usually we’re born able to fly, you see, but I was… well, I guess I was just born sick. I couldn’t fly until I was five, but even then I could only fly really slowly. Fiona didn’t care, though….”

    ”Don’t worry, Bell! No matter how slow you are, I’ll always wait for you! You’re my friend, and nothing will ever change that!”

    “She seems like a lovely person. With luck, I’ll be able to meet her sometime.”
    “Y-yeah… Say, Llewellyn?”
    “Mm?”
    “I… I’m glad I got to meet you. And that we got to talk like this. I’ve never felt this comfortable with anybody since I made friends with Fiona…”
    Llewellyn smiled, a twinkle in her ruby eyes. “Of course, Bel. I’m glad I met you too -
    “Many thanks, Bell. Indeed, I feel…. I feel…. Oh… How… odd… I feel… suddenly tired…”

   “Llewellyn? Llewellyn, what’s happening?” Bell asked, suddenly standing. Llewellyn, however, could only barely hear her, Bell’s voice sounding muffled and underwater. She blinked slowly, confused. 
   “B… Bell? B-Bell, I… I… aaaooohhh…” she moaned, eyes beginning to roll up as she leaned back. Gently, her back pressed against the wall, cold against her moist, lily-white skin. Bell took a step, but the room seemed to shift, turning and twisting as if it were rotating on an axis, the young Pixie’s step shaky. Fearing her sudden loss of motor controls, Bell lifted herself up, trying to float to Llewellyn. 

   “Llew… Llew, what’s… happening…?” she asked plaintively - but it was too late for the half-vampire. The young woman - soft, pliable and nubile as she rested against the marble wall - gently shut her fluttering eyelids, eyes reduced to slivers of whites. Only a soft, meek and mewling “oohh…” escaped her lips as she passed out. In an instant, Llewellyn was unconscious, pale skin glistening with moisture as Bell began to breathe quickly as she began to panic. 

   “N… No… I… Llew… I have to… Ohhh…” Bell moaned, hyperventilating as she realized all too late what was happening. The steam… it’s been… drugged…
   Bell reached for the door, pert breasts heaving as she touched down gently. Her hands gripped the doorknob, but suddenly, to even turn it seemed to practically drain the strength out of her. “Nnn…! Ooh…. Ooooaaahh…” Bell moaned, the sudden exertion, combined with her rapid breathing, taking everything out of her. 

   ”No… I just… wanted… one day…. ohhh…” she thought, the last her conscious mind would process for some time, before her big eyes rolled back, eyelids rapidly fluttering shut as she slumped alongside the door, sliding down it to sit on her ankles - pale, thin legs folded demurely beneath her. With a final, gentle sigh, svelte chest dropping, Bell’s eyes were shut, and she joined her companion in deep slumber. 

   For a moment, nothing happened. The two young women - bodies pale, moist, and ever-so-vulnerable, softly mewing in their sleep - were left alone in the drugged steam room. Although neither of them could have possibly known, the drugged air eventually filtered out through the porous ceiling, escaping to the outside. The room’s air clear, the door opened slowly, prompting Bell to slump sideways before crumpling to the ground on her side. Her head lolled momentarily on her slender neck, a soft “hh…” being the only sound of discontent to escape her parted lips. 

   Standing at the door, the deep violet hair of Cecilia stood in stark contrast to the pure white and sand-colors of the marble structure. The woman smirked, looking at the unconscious forms of Bell and Llewellyn. 
   “Another two down…” she noted, bending down and pulling back Bell’s eyelid. Her clear blue eye was rolled completely back, barely a sliver of its iris showing at the upper rim of her socket. Cecilia grinned, before grabbing Bell by both wrists, roughly lifting her up. The knot of her towel seemed precarious for a moment - but it held. At least for now. Standing unconsciously, Cecilia simply bent down, flopping the inert form of Minerva’s handmaid over her shoulder. 

   Without much fanfare, she strode over to Llewellyn’s unconscious body, grabbing her by the slender jaw. She turned her head this way and that, admiring her décolletage briefly. ”I don’t recognize this one, like the Elf… Minerva must’ve hired her as help…” the woman thought. She shrugged. ”I know what Lady Madeline would say.” 

   With an equal lack of consequence to the way she’d dealt with Bell, Cecilia snuck her arm under Llewellyn’s slender thighs, grabbing her rump. With all the strength she could muster, she bent down, and simply lifted the orange-haired half-elf by the rear end and tossed her over her shoulder. Her arms flopped back, dangling limply, mouth falling to hang agape as her bare legs swung back and forth from the action. Cecilia took a moment to stand, gathering her balance, two unconscious girls over each of her shoulders. She smiled, patting each of them on their firm, gentle rear ends with a respective hand. 

   “Sleep tight, girls…” Cecilia said quietly as she stepped out of the trapped room. “I just have the big catch left…”

*** 

   “Gah!” Laila cried out as she was slammed to the ground, before grabbing the back of her head. “Damn!” she winced, slowly picking herself up. “Alright, alright, I yield,” she said, conceding to her opponent as she stood up carefully, patting the dust off of her battle-skirt. 

   Lunaria made no response, and simply turned to move back towards the shade. She grabbed her cloak - which she had removed for the sparring - and threw it about her shoulders. “Very well,” she said simply after a while, moving for the shade. Although it was only a rumor that sunlight could kill a vampire or its kin, Lunaria’s own pale skin made her easily susceptible to burns. She hastened to mitigate that concern as quickly as possible. 

   “Well, by my count, we’re currently at four-to-zero, Laila,” Winnifry said, idly checking her nails as she sat on a stone bench, legs crossed. “Must this sparring go on, or have we proven ourselves yet?” Indeed, each of the four women present had all single-handedly bested Laila in hand-to-hand combat, although Winnifry had cheated somewhat. Laila was still confused, not sure how come she’d just so happened to trip at the worst possible moment into the wyvian’s waiting knee. 
   Laila groaned, the ochre-skinned amazon walking towards them and stretching. “No, no, I think you’re good. To be honest, I don't think any of you need any training from me. Guess the Pharaoh underestimated the rest of you after your friend scorched the Death Worm.” 
   Song laughed. “Hah! Yeah, I guess so! That was pretty badass, after all!” Lunaria flinched at that as Song bent over, stretching her legs and resting her palms on her knees. 

   Behind her, Fiona suddenly blushed brightly, noticing how her companion’s pose quite noticeably displayed - if not outright paraded - her own tight rear end. Song’s bushy fox tail popped straight up as she stretched her spine, allowing Fiona to view her firm buttocks unobstructed. ”Oh… Oh my….”

   “Yeah, that’s probably it. Don’t worry, I think I’ve seen enough - you all pass with flying colors, and I’d say you’re probably more fit to be palace guards than I am,” Laila said, leaning against a wall as she spoke. 
   “Well, that’s certainly a relief to hear. Now, do tell us, what’s life like guarding the palace?” Winnifry inquired. 
   “Yeah, yeah! I wanna know what I’m getting into before I make any commitments!” Song chimed in, bouncing up and down. Behind her, Fiona coughed, turning her head away for a moment, but when she brought it back she only found her gaze inexorably drawn to the same place. 

   Laila shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you much, since I’ve only been here a little while. But I can tell you that it’s comfortable, and the pay is good. I mean, this is probably the best gig I’ve ever gotten, y’know?” she chuckled once. “You know, this time last month I was fighting just to get enough to eat? Crazy how quickly everything can change, eh?” 
   Song nodded, realizing that the same was true. “Yeah… sure is…” 
   “Well, there’s not really anything left for me to do here, then,” Laila said. “I’ve got work the Pharoah needs me to do, but High Priestess Nidara can take care of all the clerical stuff from here. You know, getting you familiar with the laws and such.”
   “Very well. I believe we’ll be fine from here, thank you,” Winnifry said graciously, smiling slightly at Laila. 
   “Later then!” Laila said, giving a short wave as she walked off - shorter than all but Song, there was a slight bounce to her step that could easily be mistaken for a peppy attitude, but Lunaria knew otherwise. It was not a bounce, it was the result of every muscle in her body being coiled, like a serpent simply waiting to strike. She had seen such a walk before. 

   Fiona, meanwhile, coughed to herself, drawing her eyes away from Song’s derrière. ”Damnit, damnit, damnit! Why can’t I stop looking? Godsdamnit Fiona, she’s your companion - your friend! You can’t be… just looking at her body like that. Where is your grace?” Fiona chided herself, blushing as her heartbeat quickened. She stole another furtive glance. 

   Song’s outfit - the same dark, tight-fitting black leather outfit she always wore - was quite the figure-hugging one. Even if her breasts weren’t particularly large, their pert curvature was perfectly accentuated by the skintight leather. To say nothing of her long, slender legs, muscular and toned, or that firm, tight pair of…

   ”What am I saying? I… I’ve seen her at her most vulnerable… It’s wrong to be thinking this, right? This is… dirty. Yes, she’s very… attractive, but… would we even work? No, no no no, there’s no way she feels the same. I am certain of it - she flirts with everybody, doesn’t she? And besides, I’m not her type. Nope, we’re just friends. Just friends. We can only be just friends.”

   “No matter if I wouldn’t mind otherwise.”

   “Fiona? Are you alright?” Lunaria asked, snapping Fiona out of her reverie. 
   “Hmm? Yes, yes, I’m fine. What’s the matter, Luna?” she asked, speaking perhaps just a few breaths too quickly. 
   “I am fine. I must confess, that Laila woman seemed… unconventional.”
    Fiona shrugged. “She’s a mercenary. I mean, is that really much more different than us?”
    Lunaria scoffed. “Please, Fiona, do not degrade yourself with the comparison. Mercenaries are devoid of morals, and will do anything for coin. We, at least, have some degree of ethics, do we not?”
    Fiona pouted. “I mean, that’s a pretty big statement to make, Lunaria. How can you be so certain all mercenaries are like that? I mean, she certainly didn’t seem to be the type that’s money-crazy.”
    Lunaria made a sound, although to describe it would be difficult - Fiona wasn’t sure if it was another scoff or closer to a humph. “I’ve dealt with mercenaries before, Fiona. It is policy to appear as friendly and well-meaning as possible. It’s better for business.”
    Fiona nodded. “Well, I mean, I guess that makes sense, but… isn’t there a bit more to it than that? I mean, I don’t think just because one or two mercenaries are nice as a front for more money necessarily means that all mercenaries are that way.”
“Perhaps not, but it is folly to expect good in others, Fiona. ‘Fear the darkest roots of a man’s soul-tree, for they are the surest to be uprooted.’” Lunaria quoted. 
    Fiona nodded. “Yes, perhaps, but ‘a man is more than the summation of the influences that shaped him - as the sculptor can make nothing without marble, neither can the forces of life and the gods shape a man without a preexisting character.’” Fiona rebutted, causing Lunaria to stop and stare at her, puzzled slightly. 

    Fiona smiled, a soft “hmmph” of victory in her voice. “Yes, Luna, I too have read Artessimo.” 
    Lunaria stopped her from moving forward. “The Purpose? You’ve also read his work?” 
    Fiona nodded. “Yes, yes, several times over, actually. I thought his parable of the farmer and the basilisk was particularly poignant, but the treatise on undeath was stuffy and full of religious dogma.” 
    Lunaria gave a single, short laugh - a rare thing for the stern woman. A genuine smile lit her face. “Really? I also thought that, although I suppose my opinions on undeath are somewhat… skewed…” 
    Fiona waved a hand dismissively. “Vampire or no, the man was a real necrophobe. Isn’t it weird how his cousin became a lich?’ 
    Lunaria shrugged. “Not so much - I met his granddaughter, once, and she told me her grandfather was always dabbling in necromancy.” 
    Fiona stopped again. “Wait. You mean you’ve met Artessimo the Gallant’s grand-niece?” 
    Lunaria blinked, confused why this would be surprising. “Yes, she’s a friend of my mother’s. Why?” 
    ”Why? Lunaria, that’s so cool! Why didn’t you tell me before?” 
    A shrug. “I was unaware you were also a reader of the Terrienian’s work. I… well, I supposed you’d limited yourself only to the light reading of novels, adventure-tomes, and the like.”
    “Yeah, well, I can’t blame you. I did read a lot of those. That’s why I wanted to become an adventurer after all. Say, did you ever read The Windmill Dragon?” 
    Lunaria blinked. “No, I can’t say I’ve even heard of that one. Please, do tell me.” 
    “Oh, well, I guess I should expect that - it was written by a pixie a century and a half ago. It’s about an old knight, whose kingdom is in ruins and whose liege has been dead for years. Yet, this old knight just keeps fighting, convinced he can stop evil. There’s a really powerful scene where he fights a windmill, totally convinced that it’s a dragon. I’ll keep an eye out for it for you, Luna, I think you’d really enjoy it!”
    Lunaria smiled, and for a moment her heart fluttered. “Wh..why, thank you, Fiona. It… It warms me greatly to know that you are also a lover of literature. I… well, you must forgive me, but… I’d never thought of you that way, and-”

   “Oh, Fiona dear? What is this?” Winnifry suddenly asked, interjecting from her seat along the wall. Fiona turned, interrupted, to see what was the matter.

   Her eyes widened. 

   Winnifry held in her hands a small glass vial, which had evidently rolled out of Fiona’s bag. It was filled, almost completely, with purple liquid. It was, in fact, a perfume bottle, as made obvious by the spout and pump at its top. Furthermore - it was the same perfume bottle with the drugged mist that had knocked Fiona’s best friend, Bell, out so long ago and had started her on this very same journey. 

   And it was this same knock-out drug Winnifry was now staring directly into the nozzle of. “Is this a perfume of some sort? Oh, Fiona, why didn’t you tell me? I do love art forms of the olfactory nature,” Winnifry said, immediately pressing the pump. 

   “No, Winnifry, don’t-!” Fiona cried, but it was too late. Immediately, a small purple cloud of mist shot forth, enveloping Winnifry’s head. “Oh!” she gasped quietly, brown eyes widening in surprise. The perfume bottle immediately fell from her nerveless hand, clattering along the stone seat before landing on the sandy ground. Winnifry’s eyes remained wide for a moment, as though she were processing what had occured. Then, she smiled. 

   “F...Fiona… I didn’t know… you had such a… a… heavenly scent… in your bag…!” Winnifry said as Fiona quickly flitted over to her side. Lunaria and Sang ran after, Song giving Fiona an incredulous look. “Wait, Fiona - that’s not…?”
   Fiona rubbed the back of her head. “W-Well… it i-”
   “Oooaaaooohh!” Winnifry moaned, eyes roling back as she swooned, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead dramatically. “Oooaaah I fe...feel… faint…” she cried in a tone that could easily have been misconstrued as despairing, but was in fact simply a well-performed ruse. 
   “Sleeping dust mixed with perfume,” Lunaria noted dryly. Fiona winced. 
   “Y.. yeah…” she said in confirmation. 
   “Fiona! Why do you even have that? And more importantly, why haven’t you used that before?! That could’ve come in helpful so many times!” Song cried, to which Fiona shrugged. 
   “I guess I just sorta… forgot?” 

   “Ohh… oh my….” Winnifry moaned as her hands fell limply to her sides, and she began to slump over sideways. Fiona quickly grabbed her, maneuvering her willowy body so that she lay on her back. The wyvian’s brown eyes were drooping already, then quickly began to flutter, eyes rolling back as the fast-acting drug quickly claimed her consciousness. “Ah...ahhh…” she sighed, breasts jumping once as she inhaled once more, before her eyelids quickly fluttered shut. “Ahhh…” she sighed gently, bosom deflating as she fell completely unconscious, body limp on the stone bench. 

   Lunaria scoffed. “What a mess,” she muttered in disapproval as Winnifry - who all could see had grown quite aroused from her self-intoxication, as evident by the twin soft points poking beneath her robe - continued to sigh contentedly in her sleep, a faint blush on her cheeks. 
   Song, meanwhile, was pouting at Fiona, a disapproving look on her face. “Fiona! You’d better explain yourself!” she cried, deriding the pixie. 
   Fiona flinched. “Look, I only ever used it once, okay! My mother didn’t want me to go off on my own, so she left a friend of mine to make sure I didn’t leave, and… well…”
   “You knocked her out and ran away?” 
   Fiona blushed. “Y… Yes. I’m not proud of it, okay, but I had to do it!” 

   Nobody said anything for a moment. The air was pregnant with tension, Fiona fearing the judgement her companions were rendering unto her. Eventually, Song broke the silence. 
   “Pftt, ha! Who knew you had it in you, rich girl?” she said, slapping Fiona light-heartedly on the shoulder before walking away, a gentle sway in her hips. Lunaria rolled her eyes, but said nothing, and Fiona breathed a sigh of relief. 

   “If you are quite done,” a voice said. Fiona turned to take in the form of Nidara, the High Priestess, who leaned in the archway. “As I understand, you are now mine to deal with,” she said with little-concealed scorn. 

   “Yes, we are,” Lunaria responded. Deciding to simply move past what had just occurred, she moved to greet the High Priestess. “Laila told us that all that is left is merely clerical work - coming to understand the laws and responsibilities and such that await us.” 

   “Mm… Indeed. Well, let us not tarry in the dust like commonfolk. You are palace guards now, and you will need to behave as such. From now on, your every action, every mannerism, serves as a reflection of the Pharaoh. You are her will, and you will be brought to bear however she sees fit. Duly, you can not - will not - behave in any… uncouth ways. I do not know your pasts, but if you are anything like that… Laila ruffian, then I’ve no interest in them either. Behave as fits your station.” 

   “C-Certainly. Yes, we can do that,” Fiona said, nudging Song in the ribs - the Kitsune was distracted by something. . 
   “Y-yeah! No problem, ma’am!” Song said at that, flicking her ears and quirking her lips. ”Gods, what is… for a second, I thought I smelt something funny…” Unable to bring any answers to her mind, Song internally shrugged, deciding it was probably just the fact that she was in a new place with plenty of strange new smells. 

   “Good…” Nidara said, intoning her voice into a low, dark tone as her eyes lingered on Song for just a moment. Her beady, dark eyes immediately flicked, however, to the supine form of Winnifry on the stone step. “You will have to explain things to her later.” With a flick of her wrist, two guards in simple bronzed armor came, a gurney carried between them. Carefully, they set it on the ground, before each grabbing ahold of the fainted Wyvian. 

   One guard gripped Winnifry’s ankles, her feet somewhat bared by her lacy golden sandles. Lifting them up, her long, bare legs were displayed for all to see as the other guard hooked their fingers under her armpits. Carefully, they lifted her up, her head lolling back on a delicately long neck, silky black hair flowing down. Gently she was lifted, and even more carefully she was laid down to rest on the gurney, her breasts jiggling just slightly as she made contact with the ground. “Hh…” she sighed quietly through parted lips, her face fully relaxed now. The two guards then lifted the stretcher, Winnifry’s right arm accidentally flopping out of it to dangle precariously above the ground. The Wyvian in tow, the men moved as quickly as they could, shuffling her away. 

   “They will take her to the infirmary, to sleep off her…” a groan. “Self-intoxication.” Nidara’s voice was contemptuous, and every glare she flashed at the party indicative of a true and deep disdain for them. Fiona found herself wilting under that glare like an insect under a magnifying glass. 

   ”Gods… what the hells is her problem?”

   “Now, if that’s sorted…. Please follow me…” Nidara said, turning without even a beckon. Fiona stepped behind her, and Song quickly caught up to her. They walked slowly, just enough to stay out of earshot of the High Priestess.

   “Gee, what a hard egg, huh?” Song whispered, nudging Fiona. 
   “Yeah… but hey, we have to support Mercy, you know? I’m okay with dealing with a difficult person for a bit if it makes her happy.”
   “Yeah, about that… Fiona, I wanted to ask - how long do you plan to stay here? With Mercy, I mean. In Tutekh. As a palace guar-”
   “Yeah, I know. And… well, I don’t know. As long as Mercy stays, I guess. I mean, it seems like a good opportunity, don’t you think? And this is all I really wanted, anyway - a means to adventure.” 
   Song’s ears flattened somewhat. “Yeah… I thought you’d say that…”
   “Why? What’s the matter?” 
   “Well… I don’t think I’m going to stay here a whole lot longer, Fi…”
   “Oh? How come?” 
   “This guard stuff… it’s… well, it’s nice and all, but it’s not for me.”
   Fiona gave a single laugh. “Yeah, you’re more used to running from them then actually being one of them, aren’t you?” 
   “Hey! I resent that!”
   Fiona laughed more. 
   “Oh, shut up!” Song scoffed. “Whatever - I mean, you’re not wrong, it’s just… well, it’s awfully stuck-up for me. And really boring, you know? I need freedom. I can’t just stay cooped up in a palace all day, no matter how nice it is.”

   Fiona nodded. “I… Well, there’s nothing I can do to stop you, Song. You’re your own person, you know? And I’m your friend, and I would love to be with you, but…” Fiona gulped. Her heart felt like stopping, and she loathed what she was about to say. “Well, if it’s in your best interests to leave, then you should leave, right?”
   “Y-yeah…” Song conceded, although she didn’t appear very thrilled about it. “Hey, you ran away from home, right? I mean, you understand, don’t you? Not being able to sit in one place? Not belonging?”
   Fiona considered. “Well… yes, I suppose I do.” 
   Song smiled. “Then I think you know where I’m coming from. Just… well, remember Fiona - there’s more than one kind of prison.” 

   Fiona nodded, but in truth wasn’t paying very much attention - Song’s mentioning of her running away again dredging up memories. For the first time since running away, the ramifications of that really shook her. Suddenly it became very clear to Fiona that she was miles upon miles away from home, and without a word of goodbye to her mother or her best friend. ”Gods… I just… LEFT them… I didn’t even say goodbye… How could I do that? I… Oh gods, I hope they’re okay now…”

   Meanwhile, Lunaria had been left behind by the pair, who continued talking amicably. Again, Lunaria was alone - and just as she’d forged some connection with Fiona. For an instant, she thought she’d had something, but then it was gone - like dust in the wind. Lunaria yearned, desperately reaching for that connection again, but it wasn’t there - taken, in fact, by another. Once more she was isolated, more island than person at this point. She looked at Fiona, watching her glittering wings and swaying hips as she walked, her long legs forcing her to take elegant, precise strides - an adaptation from years of “proper” behaviour. 

   Lunaria simmered, a warm feeling blossoming within her. Her eyes widened and she stopped in her tracks. ”N… No… it can’t be…” But unfortunately, for her, it was. 

   Hunger. 

   It was nearing time for her to feed again.

***

   Laila walked through the streets of Tutekh, boots clamping against the dirt. She moved with purpose, walking quickly through the streets - around her, people paid her no mind, busy with their own purchases and personal affairs. None stopped to consider the mercenary guard, and such was good. Laila had business to attend to, and it was best if she drew as little attention as possible while doing it. 

   She moved to the main bazaar - there, carts, wagons, and tables were still overturned, workers still digging the Death Worm’s remains from the ground. The air was beginning to smell rancid, the beast’s electricity-producing organs evidently decaying first, if the scent of static was anything to go by. Laila narrowed her eyes at the thing, before scanning for her contact. 

   Eventually, she found him - a man whose face was completely obscured by cloth wrappings, wearing simple brown clothes. She scowled, before storming off to meet him. He said nothing as she approached, merely beckoned with two fingers before leading her into the alley. 


   “I suppose you want answers…” he eventually muttered. 
   “You’re damn right I want answers! A Death Worm? In the middle of the bazaar?! That doesn’t just happen, Erek. Somebody planned this. This counts as an attempt on the Pharaoh’s life, so you’d better start talking you slimy piece of shit or I’m going to reacquaint you with my fists!” 

   The man - Erek, as Laila called him - raised his hands in a submissive gesture. Laila had worked with him before - in fact, she’d done so often. The man was a bit of a rat, an information broker for the seedy underworld of Tutekh, but his price was low, and although his loyalty was not for sale, it could be rented very cheaply. Laila was still a mercenary at heart, and quite often did she resort to using the capital’s own criminal underground to keep the Pharaoh safe. With informants like Erek plentiful and easily swayed, Laila could quite effectively keep an eye on the entire city for her queen’s safety. 

   “Look, look! I get it, you’re pissed, but what can I say? Sometimes these things happen - I, at least, didn’t hear anything about the Death Worm, and I haven’t heard anything since!” 
   Deciding that valor was the better part of discretion, Laila responded by punching Erek in the nose, metal gauntlet breaking it easily, rather than wasting her breath. 
   “GAAAGH! YOU CRAZY BITCH! I DON’T KNOW ANYTHING GAAH!” He screamed, clutching his bleeding face in pain as Laila cracked her knuckles. 
   “Yeah? Then how come -mpph? MPHGNGMGN!” 

   It was then that, quite suddenly, a large, lumbering man had appeared behind Laila and, seeing her strike his companion, immediately clamped a rag soaked with chloroform over her petite, furious face. At the same time, his arm wrapped around her abdomen, just beneath her buxom chest, and lifted her up, the short woman only coming up to his chest while standing. Lifted like this, Laila could do nothing more than grab onto the rag in a desperate bid to remove it, kick her legs and writhe, screaming. 

   “MGGHN! MGPGHMMM!” Laila screamed, the ochre-skinned beauty’s face contorted in pure anger. ”Why-You! Erek! You slimy motherfucker!” she thought, kicking her toned, muscular legs, red combat-skirt pulling up to reveal more of her bronzed thighs then she would normally want to be shown - however, her dignity was hardly of concern to her at the moment, as she focused entirely on escaping the iron grip she’d been caught in. “MRGMN! MRG KMM MGN!” 

   “Kata…! Sunet, hurry up and knock her out! She’s making too much of a ruckus!” Erek hissed, still nursing his wound as his companion continued to chloroform the struggling mercenary. The man grunted in affirmation, before squeezing Laila’s torso tightly, her large breasts pressing against her curved breastplate most-unpleasantly as she was bear-hugged. 

   “HMMPH! MPhhh… MGnmgmM!” Laila huffed, the air forcibly ejected from her lungs. Desperately, she inhaled again, forced to suck down a great breath of chloroform. Her breasts expanded with the breath, anesthetic flooding her lungs. She shouted again as she exhaled, adrenaline coursing through her veins. “MRGN! Mm… Mggnmm!” She squirmed violently, her legs kicking backwards at the figure restraining her, even as she began to note that her struggles were beginning to weaken, the last inhalation she took causing her vision to fog. ”N...No! I can’t… Pass out… I need… to serve… the Pharaoh! Ooh… ohhh…”

   But, unfortunately for Laila, she had little say in the matter - the chloroform was weakening her as her legs slowed in their kicking, her body’s squirming and writhing becoming more placid and ineffectual. “Mmg… Mrmgnrmff…” she cursed, eyelids drooping, but eyebrows still creased in anger, resisting the relaxing effects of the drug even now. 

   “Yeah, yeah, you’re real pissed, I get it lady. Just hurry the fuck up and pass out so we can get on with it,” Erek muttered, now applying cloth to his facial wound. 
   “Mrgrgm…” Laila seethed. ”Erek… when I get free… I’m gonna… k...kill you…”

   As much as she wanted to follow through on that threat right then and there, however, Laila would be doing no killing for the time being. Instead, she could only groan as her hardened, battle-worn body began to go soft, ochre eyelids beginning to flutter slowly, her vision a soupy mess. “Mm… mphh…” she moaned plaintively, weak and pathetic. By now her struggling had slowed to a considerable degree, her legs ceasing their struggle entirely and dangling limply, boots an entire foot (if not slightly more) off the ground. Her hands lost their grip, and her left fell limply to her side, while the other simply slid down and rested over her sternum, as if protecting her heart. 

   ”N...No… Sh...ira… I can’t… stay…. ohhh….” 

   “Mgmff… mn… mmnm…” she moaned quietly as her eyes fluttered shut, and her body went completely limp. With the added weight of her bronze armor, she was certainly quite heavy, even for her small size. Still, to the colossus of a man who had chloroformed her, her dead weight was trivial and after allowing her buxom chest to rise and fall slowly as she took in enough of the soporific to stay unconscious for a good, long while, he removed it. 

   Slowly, Laila’s face began to relax, brows slacking as her head fell limply back to rest on the man’s shoulder. Her lips were parted, glistening in the desert sun, blonde hair enveloping her captor’s bicep. “Ugh, finally. Now hurry up, let’s get her out of here,” Erek said, before walking up to the unconscious Laila. He chuckled. “Not so tough are you now, eh bitch?” He slapped her muscular thigh, enjoying how limp it was, the way the flesh resonated from his blow. He then grabbed her breast roughly, squeezing it, conquering it for just a moment - this was ineffectual at best, of course, because Laila still wore her metal breastplate. But as far as Erek was concerned, it was the principle of the thing that mattered. 

   His point made, he turned with a flourish. “Now, let’s go!” Sunet nodded once silently (or dumbly), before carefully manipulating Laila to lay in the crook of his arm. ”Pretty lady…” he thought as the sleeping mercenary fell limply back, her upper torso nestling in between his muscular forearm and chest, left arm sliding down to lay limply on her trim abdomen. Her right arm, on the other hand, hung limply, swinging as he gripped her muscular legs by the knee and cradled her gently. Her legs, toned as they were, reflected a tight sheen as the sun danced on their exposed surface, scintillating and attractive - her skin was the perfect hue of brown, a sense that was only made the more clear by her skirt’s red color against her skin. Her head craned backwards and her blonde hair flowed in a short wave, like a painter’s brush tingling against his bare skin. Her neck was craned back, its chocolate skin exposed and slender curvature arched in a statuesque manner. Her mouth lay agape, her closed eyes in betraying no signs of potential discomfort. Her breath came out in low, husky sighs, the scent of chloroform lingering on her lips. The swell of her womanly chest, large and bouncing like ripe fruit, rose and fell with each of her somnolent breaths, drawing the eye to the small hint of cleavage visible peeking out from beneath her breastplate. Cradled in the giant’s arms, she looked even smaller than she usually did, the strong mercenary rendered a small, helpless damsel in distress by the application of a single damp rag. 

   “Are you done ogling? C’mon, we have to get her out of here!” Erek chided. Sunet looked at him, blinking once before nodding. 
   “Okay…” he said. 
   “Now, hurry up - She’ll have our necks if we keep on dilly-dallying. And you remember what she did to the last guy!” 
   Sunet shuddered. ”So much blood…” Not wishing to befall that same cruel fate, Sunet followed Erek as he lead him down the alley to a door. 
   “Things are going to have to start going faster… She’s going to DEMAND things move faster… Damn, why’d everything fall apart like this?”
   “F… Faster?”
   “Yes, faster you oaf.” Erek sighed. Look, you just take little miss mercenary here to a bed while I go inform her of what’s happened. Ugh, and I’ll have to alert the Praetors too…” 

   Sunet shrugged, too simple to know what any of that meant. Instead, he looked down at the unconscious form of Laila in his grip - not quite with lust, but more, perhaps, with the way a young boy might began to fancy a playmate. It was a sort of inquisitive, unsure attraction - but for the unfortunate sleeping woman, it was attraction nonetheless. 

   Alone and unconscious, Laila was carried into the dark building, before the door was slammed shut behind the two criminals, sealing the olive-skinned mercenary to an unknown fate.