Cadh is more interested in Marzena, but one of the guards takes you out in the bushes...

You don't know if you would call it 'gentlemanly conduct' or not, but amazingly enough, it seems like none of the eight female captives (the injured archer had survived, apparently, for she was in the cage along with the witches) had been outright assaulted during the night. More likely, the Gaelicans had just been so pleased with themselves that they imbibed the spirits they'd brought with them in great quantities and lost the ability to do anything more than grope and harass. Besides that, there were more than four-score of the mercenaries and only eight of you, so perhaps they didn't want to risk a fight brewing amongst their ranks. The most likely explanation in your mind, however, was that they simply feared magic and were (rightly) concerned a witch could ensorcell them.

And so the irony is -you realize as you wake up from your uneasy sleep, the pale light of a cloudy sky pouring through the seams of the shoddy little shelter - all those witches (who'd likely been fucked by half a dozen strangers each within the past month) were at far less risk of rough handling by those dozens of unwashed men than you were. With a hint of pride, you noted that even as you lay tied up on the floor of a mercenary captain's tent, having not been allowed to change clothes for over a day and carried around half the last evening, you still looked enticing. Clean, fair-skinned with nary a blemish in sight, with blonde hair made soft as silk from daily washing brushing against your narrow shoulders as you slowly rise from your prone posture. Your hands are tied up but your black-painted, finely manicured nails are still unbroken. Your smooth, regularly-waxed legs flex, helping you sit up, and pushing up the hem of your armored skirt enough to catch the light. The only thing that had worn away was your lipstick. Your mother has always lavished praise on you, and called you her princess. Indeed, sometimes you actually believed her that the new King would fall for you if he ever spent an evening with you, no matter how unpopular your house with the other duchies...

Today, though, you'd have to catch the eye of some lowly scumbags. Several hours after you, Cadh awakes and rolls off his cot, massaging his temples and cursing incomprehensibly as he shuffles out to take a loud piss. The sound of that finally wakes Marzena up as well, and the well-endowed raven-haired beauty jerks awake and almost immediately starts giggling softly. It seems she takes amusement from all things crude, not just the obviously sexual.

When he walks back in, the muscular, long-haired man has his arms folded in front of his chest proudly. With the pale sunlight backlighting him, he appeared to have a fierce aura surrounding him, putting you in mind of an illustrated manuscript of some god or legendary hero - bulging biceps and thick neck made to look all the more dramatic in silhouette. You have to admit to yourself, even in as lamentable a situation as this, it's kind of sexy. With those thoughts on your mind, you flash him a wan smile, unable to 'get into character' as you usually do.

Unfortunately, the pride you have been nurturing in yourself all morning is quickly deflated as Cadh gives you a mere cursory nod. "Hard marching today, Countess, aye. Ye will be g'ang out front of the rest of us, with a wee few of my best soldiers to guard you. Any ambush, any trap laid in front of us, and you'll perish first, woman of Orban. I hope your followers din value victory more than your life, lass."

You give him a hurt expression, lips pouting. "But...! I've had nothing to eat yet, and I need to... to freshen myself up.."

"What's that?" Cadh demands with a snort, making you blush and grit your teeth.

"She means she needs to take a piss!" Marzena belts out all of a sudden. Apparently this is her idea of being helpful.

Cadh barely reacts to it though, except with a shrug and a grunt. "Ach, that's right. Well, Ross and his squad needs-be to start guardin' you anyway. They'll be right outside the tent, I explained to 'em while I was having a piss, myself."

He then turned to look at Marzena - but unlike with you, his gaze lingered... and focused meaningfully. It seemed like he was having a conversation with himself, nodding slightly as he stared. In your experience, that was a man pondering the question to himself: 'Can I bed this woman? Yes, yes, I think I probably can'. With some effort you bite your tongue. Even if he's an unwashed brute, he really ought to be expressing interest in the helpless, young countess laying captive at his feet - not her classless wench of a friend.

"Hmmm... Gave young Aiden a damnred fright last night you did, lass..." he says, sounding intrigued. "But you look harmless as a wee sparrow to me, now. Oh, aye, you were throwing fireballs before, but up close... with a firm hand on your shoulder, I dinnae kin you would try any such thing. Gahhh..." he rolls his eyes dramatically for emphasis. "If the other lads are too afeared to look after you, you can travel with me. Prove to my lads why they needn't fear you, maybe."

"Oh, well - I suppose it's not impossible I'll cooperate." Marzena says jovially again, not seeming to fear him at all the way she had Aiden last night.

He then walks over to you and Hannah and, almost as an afterthought, cuts the bonds on your feet and gestures sharply towards the exit. "Go on, move! If you were so eager for vittles and to go out in the bushes ye'll have little enough time for it!"

As you lead the timid Hannah out of Cadh's lodgings you wrinkle your nose in frustration. Ross seems very agitated, barely glancing at you himself before he drags Hannah off to go push her over with the other witches. It seems that the spellcasters are all being tied to stakes, gags in their mouths, so that two men each can carry them. It looks dreadfully uncomfortable, but you must admit it is probably true that they will slow the mercenaries down less as a carried burden then they would dawdling along on foot.

"Well," you say with a dark frown as Ross returns, eyes still mostly trained on his feet rather than you, "shall I at least be given a few minutes to take care of basic necessities before you beasts **** me to march myself to ****?"

"Oh don't worry yourself countess. I shall make the journey as easy on you as I can, I swear. I'll be takin' one of the few wagons and oxen along with us, you can ride when you tire, Lady Orban." There was a quickness in his breath, and once he looks up to you, it's like he can't take his eyes off you. Reflexively, your eyes wander down to your clothes to see if there is some embarrassing stain or something of the sort... When there isn't, and you spot the barely-hidden grin on the side of his mouth, you know that he's been having... other thoughts about you.

Which made your next request very awkwardly timed. "Ah, yes, well... whatever your name is," you say, clearing your throat nervously, "I need to go out into the woods there for a minute."

"Afraid I cannot, countess." he says, shaking his head vehemently. "I promised the captain I'd not take eyes off you. He said you were as cunnin' as you were beautiful... Or, that you are cunning, at least."

You blink. Was this the effect of Marzena attempting to touch the dreams of the mercenary leaders? Had she intentionally lured the captain with thoughts of herself rather than you? That sounds like something she would do. Was Ross's rekindled infatuation from the same magic, or just from the mundane fact of him being a young man who'd gone a long time without a girl?

Unable to muster any other response, you slowly begin to follow him when he leads you a few hundred paces out away from the camp. Several times, you quietly implore him to go a little farther, suddenly apprehensive about all of those troops getting a good look at you in such a humiliating pose... twice Ross relented, but the third, he insisted you were far enough.

Doing the best that you could for your modesty under the circumstances, you turn around so that your back is to the mercenary youth, and heft up the hem of your skirt, bend your knees, spread your legs as far apart as you can manage, and close your eyes. Tensing up, you at last relieve yourself of an entire night's worth of built up urine. With effort, you're able to get all but a few drops of the stream onto the swampgrass instead of letting it dribble down your own stockings or knickers.

Although you remain silent, Ross lets out an almost pained groan from behind you. You feel a quivering in your abdomen - butterflies in the stomach, as peasant girls called it - and realize he'll have but one thing on his mind. Would the possible threat of punishment by his captain really do that much to dissuade him, when he was left alone with you like this? The thought of how far he might go quickened your pulse and, to your chagrin, made the first hint of a familiar heat begin building between your thighs.

Part of you wants to regain control of the situation by making a snide comment or two at Ross, but before you can think of any, you hear the rustle of vegetation behind you as he steps closer to you. A shudder runs through you as you search for the right thing to say. If something is going to happen anyway, perhaps it is better if you broach the subject and try to get him in as sweet a mood as one such as him is capable of.

"Um... Ross, was it?" There is barely any quaver in your voice. "If you'll forgive me asking... have you ever been to Undrek? There are reasons that the name of such an unimportant city is spoken of so much among men across the continent..."

"I've an idea, aye." Ross says, clearly trying to hide excitement in his voice.

"Surely you must have gone a long time without... refreshing your supplies," you say, trying to add a playfulness to your voice. "Though I can't promise you would all be let inside with your weapons at once, I think it would serve the needs of you and your brothers in arms nicely. And with me in your possession, surely you wouldn't be charged any-"

"You. In my possession." Ross repeated deliberately, unable to suppress a shark's smile. "Aye, you are, aren't you... Well, I mean, the Count of Aldergrove said you were a filthy, wicked woman, but you look like a wonderful lass to me. Truth be told... when I awoke this morning and thought of you, I was so hard I thought my sword might snap. A lovely lady, almost like a princess - but out and helpless, with a duke and a king who scarce cares what becomes of her. Those firm little breasts, so ****..."

"Wait!" your usual subtlety seems to be failing you. You have always delighted in wordplay with a man pursuing you but this seems to have hurtled well beyond the point of implication and veiled meaning. You clear your throat and put your hands on your hips, raising your nose proudly as he continues to advance on you. "D-Do not make the mistake of thinking that I am ever truly alone, or that my title is ever meaningless! Rather, you should be grateful for an opportunity to so easily earn the favor of a... noble figure who would otherwise be out of your reach."

"Ach fine, fine," Ross says distractedly, slowly and hesitantly reaching a hand towards you as if not sure whether you will flee or not. "We'll give you what comforts we can, and I'll say whatever you like to the captain...."

"Don't we need to be setting out ahead of the main group, soon?" you ask, playing your final card and pursing your lips as you look at him pleadingly.

"Shhh, it's okay..." Ross says, nearly trembling with eagerness now but still speaking in soft, solicitous tones. "Please, I beg ye, my lady... let me hold you in my arms a moment and have a kiss, that's all...!"

Before waiting for an answer from you he swept forward and wrapped his arms around your waist, pushing you up against a tree and aggressively pressing his face up to yours, crushing your delicate lips against his mouth. "Mmmmff!" you mumble into his lips, pressing your hands against his chest as if trying to get away, but only very lightly. As his hand creeps down over your waist and gradually begins closing around your bottom like a greedy child trying to steal a cookie, you feel a tingle run through your spine as you realize he very likely won't stop with just that, unless you do something quickly... your mind races as to whether you should try and make him back down, or how. A maiden you may not be, but so far every man you have shared a bed with has been a duke or knight of Itheria. A lowborn foreigner touching you was still disgraceful. But, you may need him, and if he's convinced you like him too, you might get him to help you...