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Chapter 4 by Manbear Manbear

How do you deal with these young warriors?

Let Atheas deal with it

Grunting in irritation, you turn to Atheas, “Remind them of our traditions and why we are here.” One of the things your mother taught you was to delegate small tasks like these as much as possible. Not only were your officers better equipped to deal with this type of behavior, it keeps you from becoming the bitch-queen.

Atheas bows without a word and makes her way over to the young women. When the girls see their general approaching, they move quickly away from the side of the boat and stand at attention. “You know our rules, only after the war and even then,” she growls sharply, “only with men worthy of fathering our Sisters.”

“Oh, they look plenty worthy to me,” blurts one of the girls. You turn away before you hear Atheas dressing down the young freckle-faced redhead. The grey-haired warrior might not agree with your strategic decision to ally Accor with the cities-states of the United Armies, but she is certainly capable of putting some over-eager rookie back into her place. Stowing your shield in its slot against the hull of the ship, you open the hatch that leads to your cramped quarters below. Amazonian galleys are built for speed and maneuverability, not comfort and as you lower yourself to the slanted floor below you find your self wishing for a flagship with a cabin tall enough for you to stand up in. At least you have a space of your own, you chastise yourself as you remember that all the rest of your crew sleep under the stars you at least have a bed.

“You want to see if you can dance away from me down here?” You tease Thea, knowing full well that she needs this relief from the stress as much as you do. Her eyes sparkle and then glances back over her slender shoulder.

“Should I call Orithyia?” You shake your head as you take one step toward the front of the cabin, Orithyia is the third member of your triad, and although she trains with you with undivided concentration, it is clear that her heart is still with the two Sisters she lost on this very river. The warrior is over a dozen years older than you and Thea, and it will take a while for her to bond with you.

“She'll come when she's ready, besides, I don't think all three of us would fit in here.” Taking a knee, you flick free the greaves that cover your lower legs. Your armor is designed for easy removal; Amazons do much of their fighting at sea, and a tumble from the decks would be a **** sentence to any woman who could not easily shed her heavy gear. The shoulderpads and chainmail that protects your throat and upper chest is next and when you pull them off you feel the relief of cool air on your sweaty skin. Thea helps you unbuckle the gilded chestplate beaten to match the full feminine curve of your breasts rather than squash them. She hangs the polished armor on the wall under the shoulderpads and then turns to face you with a sparkle in her dark eyes. Thea can almost stand erect in the low cabin, her head just touches the deck boards of the quarterdeck above, but that is not what you are looking at when with a shrug of her shoulders her leathers slip off her figure like a snake shedding its skin. Like you, she is still wearing a sweat-stained tunic cinched tightly around her slender waist but even in the dirty garment she is so beautiful you take a deep breath in anticipation of what's to come.

What is going to happen in in this tiny cabin?

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