POV: Duke Aaron

The duke awoke in his large bed, resting there a moment before throwing off the silk sheets and beginning his day. Aaron knew that routine was the key to success in life. Making things efficient frees up so much time for plotting. That is why he already knew exactly what he would wear: a ruffled white shirt with a red cloak slung over it, breeches of maroon and black leather boots polished to a shine. It would go out of fashion at some point, but Duke Aaron was ready for whatever new fashions popped up. The duke kept up to date on everything. That was why, once he was dressed and went down to breakfast, he had a servant there updating him with news. Every morning he ate his eggs, bacon, and toast. Then after precisely one half-hour, he made his rounds around his keep.

The first stop was the dungeons. Here, Aaron listened to the sounds of those he had tortured, looked over any confessions that had been given or information that had been gleaned, and gave the torturers his approval and notes. Then it was an inspection of his guards around the keep. This was something that the duke took very seriously. The armored guards wielded heavy weaponry and patrolled relentlessly as instructed. The final part of the inspection involved checking with the Red Mourners. The first being the ranger.

Riley stood tall in his boiled leather armor. His longbow was slung over his back and his face seemed to be chiseled from stone given his serious expression. The orc stood over six and a half feet tall, but assumed a subservient position when Duke Aaron entered. After all, the duke could easily have him killed as he had many during his reign. The duke impatiently asked for the results of his most recent venture.

"The insurgent camp has been destroyed. Most of the rebels were killed and those that weren't scattered in many directions. They will not be able to regroup or launch any offensive against you until well after the wedding, sir." Riley's voice was terse and coarse, practiced after a lifetime of fighting.

The Duke nodded, "Than all that remains in my way is that wretched party of ne'erdowells. You've done well this day, Riley. Congratulate yourself and prepare for your next mission."

Neither noticed as Riley seemed to shrink in stature. The leather shifted as Riley's pecs grew into breasts. The orcish woman lost muscle mass and gained flexibility and dexterity. She nodded and spoke, her voice silky smooth, "Yes Duke Aaron. Whatever you command."

The duke thought some impure thoughts of what he could command of this vixen, but he stopped himself. He knew she was bound by her chastity. The **** need for release is what drove her and without it, she would operate as a free agent. In fact it was always this way since the duke procured her services. He wasn't quite sure why he was thinking on it now. All the same, he continued on to the next Red Mourner for their report.