Just what we needed, a sadistic priestess.

Court ministers and servants were hardly the only attendees for such a well-known festival, and they were far from the only ones to offer drinks.

Dignitaries from across the world had come, bearing the most distinctive Inryoian gifts imaginable; exotic drinks from far-off lands that could represent them on the world stage. Or at least give a pair of pear-shaped princesses a fleeting taste of distant homelands the two had never seen.

The high priestess of Solaria Major was a sight to behold, as those sun-worshipping tropical islands valued thickness of hips above all. They grew naturally wide down there, even by the obscene standards of Inryo. Other nations couldn’t hope to match whatever combination of suspicious fruits and **** they took to induce spirit visions and euphoric episodes, and grow their asses just that bit larger every generation in hopes of expanding their bottomless capacity.

The dark skin of the high priestess was mostly exposed, with only the flimsiest white bikini on, and an open white robe doing little except flapping impressively in the breeze and contrasting artfully with her flawless deep brown complexion. As did her naturally snow-white hair and eyes, which often tricked court officials in other nations into believing her blind.

No, she’d just been gifted by the great god Sol, who would rise again as surely as he had set. Her power allowed her to speak briefly with both the respectful Lucianne and the desperately-dancing Marisole, and determine what sort of drink her own shuddering, squirming entourage should bring forth.

“Thank your for the splendid hospitality that both of your Highnesses have shown! As a token of the continuing friendship between our nations, please accept these. For the crown princess first; only the strongest, most divinely, beautifully brutal brew. A selection, in other words, from the church stock passed down by my family for ten generations of work aging this rich, dark wine. In conditions far more energetic and warm than your own royal stockpile, which I think you will find gives it a flavor second to none upon this world!”

Trying not to think about how much she’d already accepted in wine, and the floating sensation in Lucianne’s head matching a pressure welling up in her bladder, the stoic redheaded princess took the deepest bow she could manage in her armored dress. Folding up at the waist like that did feel good for a moment.

“Thank you, Holy Eminence. I am honored to accept this gift, and naturally can’t wait to sample it right here.”

Marisole gawked at her like she was insane, perhaps finally sobering up enough, in spite of all the spirit she’d imbibed, to remember a shred of last year’s festivities. The blonde, whose ass was the only one around that could even hope to match the priestess pound-for-pound even if it was smaller in absolute terms, didn’t have a tenth of Her Eminence’s drink capacity, and it showed.

Even watching her sister knock back a massive crystal glass of deep, dark wine, and sample its blend of tropical favors like an expert wine taster, was enough to make Marisole quiver in her wooden sandals. She had no ability to conceal her need anymore, and desperation was written plainly across her face. She was soaked in sweat, despite the night being somewhat cool in the cavernous stone castle.

So the high priestess knew this girl was suffering, and knew exactly how to render help. Though Solaria and Antioch had somewhat different ideas about what ‘help’ entailed, so the practical result was a beer mug the size of Mariasole’s ass.

Staring up into the foam topping its rim, which looked to her like the waves of the pitiless ocean, the blonde was asked what she thought of this gift, and was sorely tempted to give an honest answer. However, one glance at the stern face of her sister was enough to put the fear back into her, supplanting even the horrible, agonizing pain she was already going through in need of a bathroom.

So, instead, in her sweetest little-sister voice, she said, “Whooa, this is huuuge! Thank you so much, miss High Priestess! I love it!” Then, without delay, it was time to start chugging. The faster she got this stupid thing over with, the faster she could, well… there really wasn’t any making this go faster, was there?

The sun god would need to come up and go down at least fourteen times before Mariasole would be permitted to so much as glimpse the inside of a restroom.

At least the beer wasn’t some special kind of magical brew that imparted an increase of suffering and capacity with every sip. Nope, just normal, ordinary beer. A ton of it, incredibly well-made, to a standard that was unheard of in even drink-happy Antioch. The flavor popped out, even if it was a somewhat sickening one. It would take you to a floaty, happy place, and help you to relax, as drink after drink went down and she ever so slowly drained the enormous mug.

Relaxation was the problem, though! What the blonde pigtailed princess didn’t need was for her muscles to untense. She was already cramping up down there, and this was merely the first night of this hellish festival.

Not to mention she’d just been hammered, was barely coming off it… and now she was back to being smashed again. Completely in violation of what a princess was supposed to be, the purity that a symbol of the nation should represent. Sure, she wasn’t destined for the crown, but despite never having power, Mariasole was still expected to conduct herself with every inch the dignity of her redheaded sister.

Even though she couldn't stop her knees from knocking together as she leaned forward in pain, sweat now pouring down her face.

“T-Thank you, Your Eminence,” Mariasole managed in lieu of telling her to go die.

The High Priestess, satisfied that she had increased the burden of that little blonde brat enough to break within the hour, decided not to trouble them anymore. After all, the line to see the princesses specifically was now stretching outside of the audience chambers and down the long torch-lit stained-glass hallways.

They had not yet even begun to suffer, really.

That started now.