Setting off.

"If you've got something to show me, I'd like to see it." You decide, prompting a quick grin from the other man.

"You won't be disappointed, Edward." Donald decrees. "That is, provided you haven't gone off the idea of dozens of wild and willing women..."

"That seems like something more likely for you than for me, Donald." You smirk, a note of playful disdain in your voice. "You know, I-i take back what I said about Beatha, Gods only know what they're in for, having a sword swallower for a king."

"I am a sword swallower, aye." Donald admits. "But this sword swallower's already slain more men that you ever will!"

Touche, you think.

"W-when should we leave?" You say, a stammer creeping into your words despite your best efforts. Then again, after what the crown prince had revealed last night, your infirmity didn't seem quite so difficult by comparison.

"Soon as possible, Edward. I'll have Daena slip away and saddle up some mounts for us."

"I'll have to share with someone. I... can't ride by myself." You sheepishly concede. The disastrous attempt to learn in your youth had ended with your good arm broken and your mother feeding you by hand until it healed.

"Won't be a problem, man." Donald answers evenly.

Due to usually being the one with the secrets and sinister motives, you've developed a fairly good sense of when someone's lying. Donald, for his part, seems genuine, you sense. No plans to take you out to some secluded vista, brain you with a rock and then take your corpse up the arse.

"Wake up Daena. I usually let the lass sleep in since she works so hard, but we'd best be away as quick as possible. " Donald tells you.

Turning, you shake the naked she-elf awake. Her eyes flash, startled, before she restrains herself. Donald tells her to ready two horses, then return when it's done. With an unerring quickness befitting her oath, the brunette dresses and departs, leaving you and Donald alone.

The crown prince sits up against the headboard, his pale, naked body standing out amongst the dingy surroundings of the tent.

"So, you fancy my sister, eh?" Donald asks frankly.

"I could stand to spend more than ten minutes with her, but yes." you respond. "I'd fuck her."

Donald chuckles. You're lucky he's every bit the tasteless degenerate you are.

"Oh, I'm sure that'll come to pass while you're up here." he grins. "But if you're looking for something more, perhaps that could be arranged."

"Really? It's a tempting offer, but what would that get me?" you respond.

"Having the kingdom with the continent's best warriors in your good graces, for one." Donald offered.

"I wouldn't worry about that. Their soon-to-be King already wants to fuck me." You say playfully, scratching your balls.

"I want to fuck most tavern wenches. Doesn't mean I'd ride into battle to defend them." the soon-to-be King clarifies. "I'm talking about an alliance. Our kingdoms could accomplish a lot more if two weeks of debauchery up here wasn't the extent of our diplomacy."

"We'll definitely have to consider it." you tell Donald. "If last night was any indication, I think I could enjoy working together. And making Kara my bride would be... interesting. She has a certain fire. I'll be honest, Itherian women, for the most part, don't interest me. They're so proper... almost boring."

"My dear mother excluded." You blurt out.

Donald chuckles, a glint of recognition in his eyes.

"A fine woman." He smiles. "Fine."

Part of you feels the need to ask more. The idea of Donald and your mother together, the only thing more intriguing would be joining the action yourself. However, Daena enters the tent again.

The horses ready, the three of you dress and make your way through the campsite, moving as inconspicuously as two royals and a mute, alluring she-elf can.

A pair of horses are saddled up in a clearing not too far away. Donald confidently mounts the more impressive of the pair. Daena, meanwhile, remains beside you, waiting to help you up onto whichever person's horse you wish to ride with.