Three betrayals in quick succession

Because of Undrek's atypical highly urbanized nature, most of the territory was the direct personal holdings of the Orban family. There has been little need to appoint vassals or parcel out the land of the surrounding wetlands, because it is almost uninhabited and economically worthless.

However, there is a single barony directly subordinate to the reigning countess, responsible for a single squalid hamlet within crumbling walls, nestled on a hill which provides some of the only available grazing In the immediate region.

Sorvedza was its name. For much of history, this decrepit excuse for a castle town had been controlled by an ever changing procession of robber barons who did business with the city but otherwise remained at arm's length. However, your grandmother had made reclaiming it a personal project, and unlike a few neighboring barons who were theoretically your vassals but in practice contributed nothing to you in the way of riches or loyalty, Sorvedza was now properly integrated into your power structure.

The line ruling there, the Molitved family, had an interesting story that people in this county found inspiring and people from more respectable lands found appalling: the first Molitved to hold Sorvedza had been a rare dame knight from the Frostpeaks who had dishonored her title and position through promiscuity and scandal, been disowned by her family, and fallen as low as prostitution on the streets of Undrek, only to be chosen by your grandmother as a militia commander, forge the rabble into a real fighting **** for the first time in generations, lead a campaign against the notorious and feared robber baron Gray Gerald, and ultimately strike the blackguard down by her own hand during the final siege. In return for elevating her so, this unconventional knight pledged to hew to House Orban's traditions and keep Sorvedza in the hands of a baroness, taking the harsh but necessary step of exiling her two sons (including, ironically, the one whose birth had been the proximate cause of her original fall from grace) when they came of age so that their sister could inherit.

Now, many decades later, her descendant, Tula Molitved, was baroness... The apple had fallen close to the tree only in the worst ways, and none of the good. Close to your age, Tula had inherited her bloodline's good looks but none of their martial valor, stewardship or determination. She considered herself a great warrior and paid minstrels to spread tales of her prowess, yet bandits were thicker on the ground around Sorvedza then when their ilk had outright ruled the place. Projects to shore up the walls of the castle and make agriculture more viable had been abandoned in favor of tax monies going to forging bespoke, highly sexualized suits of 'armor' for the Baroness and paying for her to spend three-quarters of every year attending jousts and tournaments all across the continent. Tula never actually jousts, though she, on occasion, participates in melees by hiding on the margins of the fight and trying to strike opponents from behind, knowing that as a female, codes of chivalric conduct don't mutch apply to her. She much prefers non-combative riding contests, though even there her performance tends to be mediocre at best. The one aspect of tournaments Baroness Tula excels at is rather more informal "riding contests" in the sleeping quarters of her fellow contestants.

Needless to say, you and she have always gotten along marvelously well.

And indeed, it is because of the friendship the two of you have shared ever since you were teens that you feel a bilious rage rising in your gut when you see that the house of Molitved's heraldry has replaced yours hanging over the city gates of Undrek. Marzena beginning to laugh like a hyena once again upon spotting this is also a contributing factor, to be sure. Knowing she is still out of magic, you try and push your cheeky witch into a mud puddle, but even without resort to sorcery she is still physically stronger than you and instead puts an arm around you and forces you to look up at it. "The Countess is dead! Long live the countess!"

You had thought Tula was far enough North that she would play no part in this conflict, but apparently she has galloped her way back down here as fast as a horse could carry her so as to indulge in rank opportunism as quickly as possible. "If she has touched my good crystal decanters, I'm going to have an oubliette built just to throw her down it. With animate skeletons in it!" you sputter.

Since their fine performance ( and sense none of the men who had violated them had had their cocks rot off after all) Cadh's influence has led to the witches being allowed to travel more or less unhindered with you and Marzena, in a retinue of sorts, so long as their hands remain tied. Yara and Rima exchange snide comments behind your back. Hannah, leaning forward and squinting, nervously coughs and touches your shoulder. "Oh my... you may have your chance to inquire about both the provenance of your glassware and the possibility of undead furnishings quite soon, my Countess... Look up ahead there!"

When the column of marching mercenaries draws close they can see that several military tents have already been erected outside of the city walls, looking like the beginning of a siege. But that is not all. When the column of troops behind you comes within a few thousand paces of the walls, the gates swing open and a line of armored cavalrymen atop destriers come marching out. There are not so many of them, perhaps two dozen (though still more than you remember her having under her command), but when they have lined up and wait before you, a much more horrific sight follows them. For the first time in years, the horrid lurching forms of the undead are seen in broad daylight, pouring forth from the gates in a shambling throng. Caked in mud, salt and tar, withered nearly to bones, the treatments applied to these zombies to make them less of a disease hazard to the living does nothing to negate the horror of their appearance.

Having been eagerly anticipating a bounty of shapely, scantily clad whores coming forth to greet them when they got here, the mercenary swordsman stop dead in their tracks at the sight of nearly a hundred corpses shuffling their way instead. Marzena cannot resist a quip at their expense, shouting loud enough for most of the column to hear her with a playful toss of her raven black hair. "What's the matter, boys? Don't like your girls quite THAT skinny, then? Suppose I'll be having two servings of cream cake for dessert after all!"

Of course, such abominations are mindless things that cannot even manage to flail blindly at a victim unless someone is holding their puppet strings. Unsurprisingly, that someone is your curvaceous, dusky-skinned necromantrix liason, Johari, standing atop a litter that the unliving mob carries aloft.

And, sure enough, at the head of the cavalry is an uncommonly tall unarmored woman in finery. Her chestnut brown hair hangs behind her in a single thick braid and her blue dress is tailored to provide amply visibly cleavage for the large mounds upon her chest that bounced with each step her mount took.

You roughly wrap your hand around Hannah's shoulder and pull her in close so you can hiss in her ear. "I'm going to take those bindings off your hands in just a minute. You remember Baroness Tula up there from when she visited the tower a few times, right? I want you to get ready to blast her with the most painful spell you have. You specialize in poison, right? That would do nicely..."

Hannah looks queasy. "Mnnnh... begging your pardon, my, um, liege... but I would rather not and," she rushes past that part, **** to avoid conflict, "and, in any case isn't this exactly what you were hoping for? Didn't you want to intimidate the Gaelicans into switching sides? At least this way no more women of the tower, or of the town, will have to submit to their cruelty before they are put in their place."

"Damn it Hannah - if Tula had been down here and wanted to rescue me, she would have done that - rode down on those bastards at dusk when they were drunk and asleep. She clearly wants to claim my domain for herself. And Johari - I don't trust that miserable bean-counting snob an inch."

Ross has been silent through all of this, seemingly resigned to whatever fate awaits him, but now he roughly cuffs you on the shoulder to direct your attention behind you. Cadh, looking incredibly pale, unsteady on his feet, and stinking of night-sweats, comes over and grumbles. "Alright - the laddies are gang' to be lookin' at that horrid sight - tell me what you wish."

You sigh. "Well - we need to make this look good, I suppose, so take out your sword and hold it near me, as if you are threatening to strike me down. Hold the rest of your men back, out of earshot, while Marzena and I go up there and speak with our unruly vassals..."

"Here!" Ross pipes up with a vicious smile. "I'll make it look better than that. C'mere!" He come up behind you and pushes his body up close against yours, wrapping an arm around your chest with a particular emphasis on covering your little breasts, while the other rests its palm on your stomach. You start to say something nasty but, he has intentionally left your hands free so that you still have recourse to your hidden dagger, so you can't complain too much as he roughly manhandles you forward. Cadh seems to like this idea, and he does something similar with Marzena, picking her up off the ground and tossing her up on his shoulder like a bag of potatoes, making the beautiful witch giggle with delight as she holds her giant hat in place to prevent it falling and spilling its precious cargo.

When you are brought at last within speaking distance of your vassal, Tula - who looks more formidable than she truly is, with her high cheekbones, prominent chin and deep, throaty voice - crosses her arms imperiously. "Well. I suppose it was too much to hope that you would've had enough dignity to go down fighting like a proper noble, Zoe. I wonder, how many of those hairy foreigners did you fuck to get them to spare your life?"

"You ungrateful bitch-dog!" you spit back with your own much higher-pitched voice, which tends to become an undignified squeal when you are angry. "You and your mother and your sister would've all been spreading your legs for coin in a ditch 'til the day you died if it weren't for my family! How dare you put your emblem up there without even the slightest effort to come to my aid? Could you REALLY be arrogant enough to think that you can just take my domain like that? If the next thing out of your lips isn't a plea for forgiveness and a humble request for my commands, I'd be well within my rights to have your head taken off!"

"You haven't got any honor nor standing to give such a command! Did you know that your pet elf and his mercenaries have fled the land completely, only stopping through Undrek long enough to do some quick looting?" Tula urged her horse a few steps closer.

"So I guess that means you have decided to follow their example, and loot not just a few loose coins but my entire title and all of my lands and subjects?!" you shout back. Marzena whistles. "Hey, Zoe - even with the zombies making them keep their distance some of the Gaelicans are starting to give you funny looks. You're making it look like a bit of a catfight, you know?"

You are far too angry to get distracted by Marzena's nonsense now. You focus on the tall, sharp-featured equestrian beauty who has betrayed you so deeply. But as you do, you notice something odd. Rather than just looking smug, she is... angry. Regarding you with burning contempt right back, unafraid to meet your gaze.

"You... oh my gods, Zoe, you don't even KNOW what you did, do you?" Tula puts a hand over her eyes and shakes her head. "I don't know if that makes it better, or worse. Allow me to remind you. No sooner did I get back from my latest adventure than the steward of my estate informed me that a foreign thug murdered my cousin Ivo, my own flesh and blood, less than a month ago while he was in your city and under your protection! With a damned dishonorable crossbow, of all things! And what did you do? Hold the greedy scum responsible for bringing such a reprobate into your city and letting him off the leash to account? No - it was quite publicly known that your response was to figuratively, and *literally*, suck the offender's *cock*!"

This is all sounding a bit familiar. "Oh shit." you mutter, before raising your voice again. "E-even if that is so, you're being damn unreasonable, Tula! If you're such a, hmph, strong and invincible warrior, why don't you go track down his caravan and get the bastard yourself? Even if you did it openly and risked war with the Anshabians, you know that I'd have taken your side! Because unlike YOU apparently, I believe in a little thing called duty!"

You then turn and point over to Johari, who is far enough away that you really need to raise your voice. As usual, she is wearing an unadorned black dress with red velvet fringes that contrast with the deep brown of her skin. Her bespectacled eyes do not meet yours, unlike Tula, and she flinches in the face of your gaze. "Johari! I thought you knew better than to let something like this pass. What true friends does your order of eccentric creeps have aside from the Orban family? Don't try and say this was all a misunderstanding!"

The necromancer clenches her fists and raises her voice in an uncharacteristic cry of fury. "Shut UP! You pompous spoiled brat! I'm not here to get in an argument with you - I am here to clear away that human garbage," she indicates the mercenaries, "before they can threaten the city MY order has meticulously built in spite of the interference of dressed-up parasites like you! On no less than FIFTEEN! SEPARATE! OCCASIONS!, you have encouraged 'guests'," she spits that word out with particular venom, "of your household to **** me! On more than half of those occasions, you went so far as to watch, and cheer them on as they did it! This is a city with literally hundreds of empty-headed sluts good for nothing but flopping onto a bed and spreading their legs - you being among them - but for some reason you have felt a continual need to have ME, a brilliant, talented scholar and philosopher, subjected to the same indignities no matter how bluntly I have tried to communicate to you that you shouldn't!"

"Hey, butt out of this, corpse-fondler!" Tula makes a rude gesture at her. "Did I say that you could speak? This is MY feud with Countess Zoe. Be silent and await my commands!"

You don't have a response. Johari was always so condescending and superior - it is quite true that you've always found it very cathartic, after listening to her lectures every day, to watch her getting tossed around like a sack of potatoes by horny men and fucked for hours on end. It has always just felt like a funny little joke to you, a bit of a tit-for-tat and a way to regularly remind her that she's under your authority. You hadn't ever truly considered that she was building up a serious grudge over it - if she was, why didn't she request another of the Corpus take over for her? Although a minority, some of their members were male, and even if she didn't want to risk her replacement falling prey to your wiles, couldn't she hand it off to an older mage past her sexual prime? But then, she'd always been such a perfectionist... and although you were quite sure you'd seen her physically responding to the rough touch of her "lovers" before, there was after all a difference between reacting to a physical sensation and desiring something on a conscious or emotional level.

But it is one thing to recognize that you have done wrong, internally, and another to admit it during a time like this. You have **** but to clap back. "Oh, don't fret, Johari, there will be a change, alright. Just you wait. Taking away your contraceptive privileges will be just the start of it - unless you reaffirm your oaths of loyalty to my House, right now, and tell Tula to get down off of her horse, bow before me, and bring out whatever ransom these barbarians want in return for my immediate release!"

The unspoken rejoinder to your words - though you can't say it out loud - is 'so that they can then spend their newfound wealth on whiskey and women, giving it right back to your city, and give the hostage captain Cadh time to talk them around into switching their allegiance and marching right back down to lay siege to Aldergrove alongside all the other forces you can muster. It looks like other mercenaries working for Mace have already arrived and are ready to besiege Undrek. If the Gaelicans are **** to fight and join in, Undrek will be in a stranglehold, helpless to react or conduct trade until Mace masses more and more of his forces around it and eventually overruns the defenses.

Tula pipes up again, putting her hands on her hips arrogantly. "It wouldn't matter if she did! I'd cut those slow, rotten marrionettes apart myself! I'll do you one better, Zoe - I and my newfound friends from the crownlands, free knights who are hungry for land, property and marriages of their own, will ride down these dirty foreigners and take you back... but only so that you can appoint me as your regent and retire to your mansion, for your health! And if you aren't satisfied with that - I would be perfectly happy to give you the opportunity to face me in a duel of honor, instead!"

Sputtering, you let your jaw drop and shake your head from side to side in indignation, your lengthy blonde tassels dancing around your waist with the motion. "Duel?! Why are you such a damn fool, Tula? Have you been listening to blowhard minstrels yammering about the Amazons, again? You and I are women, we aren't supposed to duel! That bloody business is for men - the fact that we don't is what makes us better than them! The only reason your knightly friends were always letting you join them in tournaments, or want to follow you now, is because they wanted a chance at getting their hands on your great big bar-wench tits!" Although Tula isn't in a position to see, several of the armored knights in formation behind her flinch uncomfortably or look away awkwardly in response to your words.

Cadh, silent until now (and having worked up his courage to regularly fondle Marzena once again, thus enjoying this opportunity), gives a coarse chuckle. "Cor. I may be dying from a hex, but at least I got to watch a muckle-damned entertaining bawdy show 'afore I keel over. Here, girly," he flips up the hem of Marzena's skirt and gives her exposed backside a hard spank, "d'ye think you could cast a charm that'd bewitch yon horseback lass and the Countess to settle their differences with a wrestling match in one of 'ee mud-puddles?"

"I absolutely," Marzena says with unusual firmness and conviction in her voice, "AB-SO-LUTELY would, if I but had the magical energy to spare for it. Oh, with all the mercenaries and all the militia watching from the walls... Say," she says, wriggling against Cadh and urging him to put her down, "I've proved my point to you pretty well, right, my big, burly, barbarian lover-boy? If I were to bring my, heheheee, spell upon your heart to an end so that I could reclaim the magic contained therein and encourage the Countess and Baroness to give all those thirsty men watching a truly epic show, well... you would be a good boy, right? There'd be no hard feelings between us?"

Ross and Cadh are both arrested by the import of this line of discussion and look closely at her. You can see vengeful glee flash across Cadh's wasted face as he glances over at you, then back to Marzena's butt. "Oh, ohhh, aye! I woulnae dream of doing anything but watching! With you at me side of course, you scandalous little wench, I be sure that the sight o' it would be enough to make me hard as a steel pike and give me the stamina to fuck you for hours! I'll e'en pull out of your cunny this time, I swear it!"

"MAAARZENAAA!" You shriek, eyes bugging out wildly. "Don't even joke about...! I swear upon my grandmother's tomb, if you do such a thing I would... you ought to PRAY that you don't survive the day, as you likely would not! I'd have you given a dozen, no, a hundred lashings with a bullwhip, and that would be just for starters! Are you listening to me? Stop talking to those Gaelicans and LISTEN TO YOUR FUCKING RULER!"