You reaffirm your friendships with Tula and Marzena. You stand (or, lie) side by side with them!

You see Gregor excitedly leaning over and whispering to his guildsman friend - the latter man's eyes light up and he looks like he's about to cry with joy over whatever Gregor has promised him. You just shake your head and smirk as you turn to give the nod to Tula and Marzena. You bring the two of them over to you, resting your hands on each of their shoulders.

"Now I know we've had our disagreements lately. Especially between you and I, Tula. But, well, since I've rather burned my bridges with that stuck up woman Johari I see that I ought to be as friendly with you two - my best girls - as I can. So... I won't order you. Honestly these are a lowlier sort than even those barbarians from before. Low class but without even that certain quality of hard manliness."

Tula sniffs and nods. "True enough, they look like a gaggle of lowlifes with just enough confidence to be irritating but not enough to be admirable. But then again, Countess, I'm not surprised since you clearly have an acquired taste for assholes."

"Whoooohhh!" Marzena makes a cheerful sound and slams a fist into her open palm. "And here comes Tula with the warhammer blow out of nowhere! POW!"

You sigh, your adorable lip curling into a small pout. "Alright. I suppose I deserved that one. So I take it you'll be letting me get my just-"

"Ohhhhhhh no, not so fast." Tula holds up her hand and gives you a flick on the shoulder. "Don't go thinking that I'm going to let you have the moral high ground or something, or get more arrows in your quiver to snipe at me with later when it comes time to divide the spoils of this campaign!"

."Even if it means..." you look over and, unable to help yourself, crack a smile in Marzena's direction, "...getting a substandard arrow or two in YOUR, ahem, quiver?"

"On the contrary," Tula straightens her back and waggles her shoulders, making the tantalizing shapes that resemble nothing so much as two halves of a large melon stuffed down the front of her dress bounce and wobble (damn her, she knows that makes you envious). "...you should just go to your private quarters, Countess, and get your..." the tall brunette raises her hands and waggles her fingers condescendingly, "...precious beauty sleep..."

"I know for a fact that not ONCE in all the time I've known you have you been finished with your hair and makeup earlier than I was before any even-"

You try to retort but Tula thunders right ahead with what she's made up her mind to say, like she always does, chest swelling, puffing up with pride like a game bird. "They'll be too intimidated by my mere presence to even try anything, and probably will back off, retreating right down the nearest bottle's neck!"

A wry smile lighting up her delicate cheeks, Marzena knits her eyebrows together, the closest expression to genuine concern and consternation that she can ever manage. "Uh, I think those guys can hear you, Baroness. They're looking this way. Got a voice like a pipe organ on you, y'know?"

You give a slow, firm, contemptuous push to Marzena's shoulder, signaling her to shuffle out of Tula's field of view so things don't get derailed into an argument. "Well alright then - let's just go on with it. I..." you swallow and clear your throat, "made a rather specific promise to that Amazon mercenary to have relayed to Aldergrove and I want to make sure I can keep my poise in such a situation."

You and Tula give one another a catty look before marching up the stairs side by side, heels clacking on the wooden steps. "You come too, Marzena," you say on the way up. "I'd rather have you 'livening things up' in there than making mischief or gossiping about me down here."

Marzena's voice burbles up to your ears as she raises her voice at someone, making you pause in your ascent and cast a glance of curiosity back at her. "You come too, Mister Big Swingin' Pick."

Hod has already been walking off and shakes his head, startled. "I... arrr... err... pardon me, Miss, but I wasn't thinking, I mean..." The stolid dwarf looks down at scuffed, moth-eaten footwear that hasn't seen a tin of bootblack since it left the cobblers - footwear far closer to his eyes than most. "I don't see's that it's proper... Ahhh! Oy, stop that, leggo!"

Marzena, never a patient one, settles for stooping down and grabbing his braided beard to pull him up the stairs after the rest of you.

You titter softly and wait for Gregor, the physically unimpressive militia captain with ruddy cheeks and a bit of a square-ish face with cheeks too high and too flat, to come up closer and put your arm around his forearm, holding his wrist. "Now then... I may not feel the need to try and play at being a warrior like my good friend the Baroness, but the truth is that I'm no good as a noblewoman - conventionally speaking," you hasten to add when he starts to protest.

"See, dear Gregor," you say as you intentionally let your soft thigh slide against his mid-step, "I can't play the games nearly so well as other, cleverer women. I can't perform that dance - literally or otherwise I'm simply a terrible dancer. I know that it must seem like the thing to do for you to leak out little details of your genius idea a few at a time while I try to tease them out of you..." you reach up and run your fingers through his hair, making him stiffen with excitement.

"But, mm... I think we can take that tease for granted, don't you? After watching so many poor players strut and fret their hours upon the stage until I fall asleep in my seat, I've always been of the opinion that there ought that there ought to be more plays out there with only a single act... the act where the interesting parts happen. All the drama and the salacious parts." You gently brush off your 'pure' white outfit, drawing his gaze to your petite, pretty figure, before taking one of his hands and placing it around your waist.

"So, I hope you'll forgive your liege lady, weary from travel, selfishly denying you the thrill of the chase: for the next hour or so you can do whatever you like. Don't bother restraining yourself, if you were to spend the time making glances and sneaking touches on my arm like the rules on courtly love say is proper in some other lands, yet your advice proved unconvincing or counterproductive, I'd punish you just the same as if you did some of the sort of things the new Gaelican mercenary captain did."

You can tell that language makes Gregor flinch, and the tall man pulls his hand half away from you, breaking eye contact. Tula's enormous breasts push their way into your and his personal space at about chin level (for you) and the baroness leans forward. "Yeah, she's quite a slut, isn't she?" You can see at a glance that Duran, excited by the sight of Tula's big, round backside starting to peek up from under the slits of her scandalously short dress, is putting his hands on her rump, but the baroness doesn't react.

"Aaaaalright, well," you say with another soft giggle and a flutter of your eyelashes, "I suppose I am. I could point out that it's worked out quite well for the city in the past but instead," you put a hand on Tula's protruding tits and push her backwards into Duran's grasp, the man immediately taking advantage and wrapping his arms around her waist, starting to kiss and lick her neck, "but instead I address you directly, my good man..."

Settling down onto the humble inn bed, you wrap your palms around Gregor's callused hand and pull him forward. "A scenario for you... Imagine that you are first to be placed at a feast and have your choice of the utensils. On the one plate is a gold-plated spoon, masterfully wrought by the finest goldsmith in the kingdom... this particular spoon is meant for visiting kings and chancellors and has been used by dozens of them. Two dozen other lords, some with poor hygiene no doubt, have had it in their mouths, though it's been given a good washing since. On the other plate is a humble spoon made by a woodworker's apprentice... rough, lumpy, and unfinished, with a texture like an axe handle. This spoon is completely new and unused, and you can even take it home with you after the meal if you like - you HAVE to, in fact, since the serving staff doesn't want it around."

"This is a pretty elaborate metaphor." Gregor says, a grin spreading across his homely features. He glances back over his shoulder, knowing Marzena well enough to expect her waiting in the wings with a bon mot.

"I'm almost finished." you say with a twitch of your nose. "Which do you want to use? And more to the point - which utensils would you rather be SEEN using?"

"To clarify," Gregor says with a wag of his chin, seemingly getting over his earlier trepidation, "I'm not allowed to KEEP such a fine piece of metalwork, right? So I might as well make as much of a mess of it as I can?" He shuffles a step towards the bed, and you gently spread your legs, panties barely half-covered by the front hem of your skirt... but then he stops.

"Er, I think I would prefer a private meal in this case, though." he glances back over his shoulder. "Ey, you doughy sergeant! That curvier noblewoman is yours if you can handle her, but go practice with her somewhere else, would you? Save yourself the embarrassment of me seeing you crying after, eh?"

"Fuck's sake!" the other militiaman tucks his chin over Tula's shoulder, holding her casually as if she were a mere object. "You promised you'd stop spreading that bloody slander, you horse's ass! I told you, the other guys just made that up about me - and no doubt paid off the brothel wench to back it up..."

You roll your eyes. Men. Getting gifted two of the most beautiful women to use for their own pleasure as selfishly as they wanted and they still felt the need to butt heads constantly. "Hmmm... No." you say sharply. "Tula is my most important vassal and she's sworn to guard me with her life. Right my dear?"

After hearing a grunt of acknowledgement from the baroness, you continue. "So! We're going to be sharing a bed. Not the first time that she and I have done so, quite scandalously!"

With a loud hmph, Tula frowns and takes a step forward, pulling Duran with her. "Gah! Zoe, after the other day the last thing I need you doing is adding fuel to that fire. I'm no tribadist, I can honestly say that I feel more lust for this lumpen peasant putting his hands all over me than your scrawny - mmmmf!" As if to command her attention Duran pulls her sideways and kisses Tula on the lips deeply, pulling her over to the opposite end of the bed. He goes down first and pulls the curvaceous knightly dame into his lap, running his hands up along her sides and gripping her breasts.

Mmm... in truth this is a second part of her punishment. Tula is a remarkably un-chaste woman, but she does tend to have pretty high - albeit shallowly physical - standards. Under ordinary circumstances if this low-class, homely infantryman were putting his hands on her he'd be on the ground bleeding by now. Soon he is freeing a hand from her chest to start rapidly rubbing it up and down along the cleft of her knickers.

"What about me?" Marzena pipes up from the edge of the room where she's rubbing her bottom up against Hod's chest. "Don't I get to share the bed?"

"You get the floor." you say teasingly, reaching your hand down to adroitly undo Gregor's belt and toss it aside.

Gregor gets between your legs, laying atop you... even knowing what he does about you he hesitates a little before each thing he does, wondering if you're going to stop him. You wrap your arms around his waist to encourage him not to bog things down in indecisiveness. "Go ahead. You can kiss me on the lips if you want. But no tongue... I don't like that."

These two are not quite as overly hasty and greedy as some and spend quite some time greedily exploring you and your vassal's nubile bodies with their hands, stripping off your clothing one piece at a time. They eagerly unlace and toss aside your corsets. Gregor pulls your dress over your head and Tula has hers peeled off her from top to bottom like a cornhusk. Soon your knickers are dragged off as well, leaving you and Tula each on the bed in nothing but your garters (white for you, deep blue for her).

Meanwhile out of the corner of your eye you see that Marzena is bending down over Hod the dwarf, alternating between kissing him and rubbing his face in between her (mostly false and made of fluff and stuffing) breasts. The poor, grizzled fellow doesn't seem to know how to respond, even when she shoves him down to the floor and squats down to forcefully shove her crotch in his face. "Oh I can only imagine how much this is going to tickle..." she chuckles as she bends forward to get his suspenders off.

Grabbing onto her long brown braid of hair, you tug Tula over towards you. She tenses up and snaps her gaze towards you as if expecting you of trying something else to humiliate her.

"You know, Tula, sometimes I think you were so upset by what I did in our 'duel' because it's not unlike something you really would like, but just off enough that it bothers you. Perhaps you work yourself into such a furor over it so you don't accidentally start enjoying it?"

Tula gives a short, sharp laugh. "If I DID want that, what makes you think you'd be my type, Countess Twig? C'mon, quit doing foolish things and wasting time, let these two buffoons get their jollies and let's get back to discussing how we're going to get all that loot and glory."

"Well, I'd like to test my troops loyalty!" you say in a wry, teasing voice, rolling your l's sensually. "We'll have them take turns fucking us side by side so both are in clear view. We'll see if they can be proper, ahahaha, 'gentlemen' and focus their eyes and attention on the lady they're with, or if they foolishly stare at the biggest pair of... well, you know. Or get distracted by Marena's antics, for that matter. Knowing, of course," you look up to Gregor who has his cock out and is stroking it in his hand, "that both of us are prone to take any slights personally." You give the militia leader a few laden glances.

Gregor gets your hint and chuckles, nodding along and biting his lip in excitement. "Or, o'course, the two of you could, you know, embrace each other... get a good feel or three so that us commoners can't help but admire both of you at the same time..." Tula snorts and blows air through her lips... but she doesn't say no.

"I think that's a fine idea," you say with a broad grin, eyes enticingly half-lidded. "And there's a man for each of us in the bed with us, no nothing for you to get embarrassed about my love, nor any grist for Marzena to whisper more lewd rumors about you."

"Oh yes! Eat my twat with your whole mouth you dirty little half-man!" Marzena warbles in a shrill voice (she can't manage a husky tone like Tula or even you no matter how excited she gets - a fair few 'guests' of the tower have joked that Marzena would be the perfect bedmate if only it were permissible to put a gag in her mouth). "I'm not going to let you go until you have mined me out to the very bottom! Get your 'tool' ready, already!" Unlike Tula, who takes it as a slight that she has to share a cramped bed with you. now that you think back on it you're pretty sure Marzena actually likes the floor better...