Deliver the whisky to Master Arnol

Alicia sighs, 'be realistic' she tells herself. She is a ****, not a noblewoman. She stumbles back from the knight, her knees week from his sensual touch, her upper inner-thigh had been moistened. She wanted nothing more than to lay with him, and choose to give him her virginity. She would much rather that than give it to Lord Arnol Botley in a drunken rampage. She walked to Melvin, too ashamed to even look at the knight any more. As she picked up the Cask of whisky Melvin gave her a silent approving nod as if he had read her every thought. Alicia thanked him and opened the brothels doors to the cool air, it was sunset and the cool night wind hardened her little pink nipples.

She made her way to Master Arnol's home. On the way back a gaunt ugly man reached under her dress and squeezed her ass, playing with the big firm cheeks in his hand he spread them. She slapped him with her free hand, there was a meaty crack as her palm met his shrivelled face. She looked in horror as she realised who she had just struck. Myke Caswell. Lord, Myke Caswell, commander of Stormdale's garrison and the town's second most powerful individual before Master Arnol.

"You fucking slut!" he yelled angrily at her. His green eyes looked to be full of rage. A **** who attacked a high-lord. The punishment was unthinkable. Alicia's heart sunk, she knew that she was in serious trouble and she had to do something, and something fast.