You find an priestess but there's nothing to be done... except her.

Before you can reach the outside of the inn you've occupied with your troops, you see an odd sight out the window. In amid the countless tents thrown up along the roadside, you see that a group of soldiers, seemingly led by Johari the necromantrix and a few nonmagical prostitutes, were dragging along lengths of spiked wrought-iron fence. "Say, Marzena. Do you know what our stuck up zombie-mistress friend is doing out there? Did she loot that church we passed?"

"Oh, yeah," Marzena says lightly. "I was actually gonna ask and see if I could get in on that with her but I figured it was my duty as your most trusted adviser and second in command," she thumps her chest in pride and beams, "to accompany you onto the battlefield of, heheh, 'love'. I mean, we hate the churches and temples, right? I sure do, and I kinda assume you do too."

You groan softly and roll your eyes. "Regardless of how I feel about them or vice-versa, that doesn't mean I can go having my troops loot their premises rampantly." you say, idly rubbing your backside with one hand and wiping your mouth on the sleeve of your nightgown. Now that the high has died down you feel like you're going to be a bit sore after the way those soldiers and your rambunctious lady knight played rough with you. "They're supposed to be off limits in little inter-vassal wars like this. I know that the likes of you and Johari don't have much love for them, but in spite of the necromancers' efforts at proselytizing their philosophies... and the far more persuasive efforts of the city's working girls to undermine the citizenry's piety and chastity... most commoners are still godly folk."

You look down at Johari - still wearing her sexy black lingerie with only an open cloak draped over her shoulders to give her some modesty. Since you had mean-spiritedly offered her to that gray-bearded mercenary captain to use without restraint, the dark-skinned scholar of dark magic had avoided even talking to you. You decide that if she is venting her frustration on one of the faiths that has tried many times over the centuries to stamp out her order, you're content to leave well enough alone. "Well..." you say with a sigh, yawning softly and already beginning to shift the focus of your thoughts to whether this inn will have any fresh food worthy of your refined palate. "...just as long as you didn't take anything that will really make them angry. Come, Marzena..."

As it turned out, when you got to the ground floor of the inn, they'd taken a bit more than that.

There on one of the taproom tables is a gorgeous young woman with long, feathery red hair partly concealed by a flowing black habit and striking green eyes laid out on top of it. Between that cloth on her head and the tight, yet fully-covering black dress clinging to her figure, it would have been abundantly obvious she is a priestess of the church of light even if she didn't have a gleaming silver holy symbol dangling 'round her neck, the sacred icon currently jostling and bouncing atop her breasts. Her breasts... firm, springy hills that were a bit smaller than what Tula or Hannah could boast of but considerably more than you or Marzena were blessed with. And currently they were energetically bouncing and wobbling back and forth with the **** of a burly mercenary with a thick carpet of chest hair thrusting away her her, her pale legs wrapped around his waist as he filled her with his cock. The priestess cried out sharply in time with each thrust, clamping one hand over her own mouth.

You realize you have been standing there in slack-jawed shock, staring at the sight for a good few minutes when the barrel-chested infantryman laying into her groans lustily and pulls back, beginning to tuck his limp, dribbling cock back into his trousers, leaving the priestess scant moments to dab at the cum flowing out of her well-used pussy with a handkerchief before another soldier comes up and rolls her forcefully onto her stomach, spanking her ass where the bottom part of her dress has been torn away to leave it exposed and undoing his own belt.

"What is the meaning of this?" you croak, eyes wide. "Who... who said that you scum could do this?" Most of the dozen-odd men in the room look like they've already been 'taken care of'... one of them has a dumb smile on his face as Rima, the blue-haired cheeky young witch who hates you, has her head buried in his crotch, making loud slurping noises in amid noisily gagging. She spits into a nearby bucket and glowers in your direction at the sound of your voice.

"You don't need to worry too... UNH! ...much, Countess." you look down towards the bar and see tan-skinned Olivia, with her perky, alluring figure as always barely concealed under a white cloth top that fits so snugly over her chest that she surely must shrink it on there each morning with magic. She is bending forward deeply over the bar and it soon becomes clear why, her skirt laying discarded on a stool nearby.

As Olivia bites her lip and her body rocks back and forth against the bar, a hand rests itself on top of her short-cropped blonde pixie-cut hair from behind. A crusty-looking mercenary from the 'Star' company is thrusting against her from behind, and you hear the sound of hips slapping against Olivia's buttocks. The witch half-turns and sighs. "Hey... I'm trying to talk to Countess Orban here, do you mind laying off for a minute?" her only response is a callous laugh and a sharp spank on her bottom, making her yelp cutely.

"Hnnfff... fine, just... remember the rules, you have to pull out before you 'finish'." She wrinkles her nose and looks at you again as you approach, crossing your arms. "Zoe... I know that woman," she indicates the gorgeous female acolyte now being fucked in the exact same position she herself is. "Her name is Elena. I sought shelter in this very village a couple of years ago, when she was still a novice... and she promised she would help, only to go around and round up a mob with torches and heavy stones to **** me. I barely escaped with my life. So..."

There is a slight interruption in Olivia's account as the man behind her wraps his hand around her neck and leans forward, squeezing the breasts that equal her purported betrayer's in perkiness with his free palm. The tone of Olivia's voice shifts with the pressure around her vocal chords but she continues, speaking in a low voice so that "...so, naturally I had to use the nightmareism Flora introduced me to on her. She is a complete fanatic, she would've surely found a way to incite an uprising of the locals, or poison your supplies, or go and bring information to your rival Count... sabotage us somehow. I made it so that she was enchanted with a vision of 'sacrificing' herself to your little unholy army here so that the whole church didn't get looted and burned. I won't deny it was a little personal - I had a nice life and a job lined up in this little village before she went spreading it around that I was a fugitive witch. But I think she also knows-"

Suddenly a shiver runs through Olivia's shoulders as the eyepatch-wearing blackguard railing her from behind groans and squeezes her tits with both hands. "DAMN IT!" Olivia raises her voice and wriggles forward out of his grasp, kicking back at him in the chest with one of her booted feet. "This scum broke the rules! Augh! You all, throw him out of here! That's it, I'm done for tonight!" A few other soldiers come up and grab the offending man by the shoulders, dragging him off with a dopey smile on his face - though they throw him out into the mud, they give him some admiring, sympathetic chuckles along the way.

Olivia sighs with frustration and pops a squat, spreading her legs and holding her ass-cheeks wide open with both hands, forcing you to lean over the bar to continue speaking with her. "This is a dozen times worse than being in the Tower, at least the clients there follow the rules SOME of the time!" she gives you a hard look. "I know that you have your reasons for whoring us out like this. For you, Zoe, it's nothing personal, and you have **** but to serve as a whore, too, so I can't call you a hypocrite. But that bitch - she had nothing to gain, no reason at all to set the mob on me like that. So Zoe - if you want me to keep earning you money with my body, keeping the peace among the witches, AND putting spells on your enemies, the least you can do is let Elena sink to my level. Our level. Judging by how she's responding, it seems like some part of her always wanted it."

Marzena claps. "Wonderful! Wonderful! Zoe, you control the magistrate in town - just have her judged guilty of witchcraft. A former priestess, working in the Crooked Tower! The patrons will love it!"

You look back to where Elena has been rolled onto her side, allowing another grubby warrior to come up while she's being fucked with her leg balanced on the first one's shoulder. The second man grabs her by her shoulders and jabs his turgid cock up in her face, which makes the young woman look merely confused.

Giving Olivia a hard look, you sniff. "You presume an awful lot. Don't forget that you've already caused me a lot of trouble and nearly got yourself killed by stirring up discontent with the likes of Hannah, and almost got me killed when I called that awful northerly noblewoman's bluff."

Olivia smiles faintly for the first time in a while. "Oh but that's just it, Countess. If you go to Elena and promise her you'll help and protect her, she'll tell you what I was able to see while invading her dreams: she has been in recent contact with Irene."

You immediately whirl on Marzena and give her a slap upside the head. Marzena squawks in her usual nasal voice and flails at the air indignantly. "Z-Zoe!! What the hells was that for?"

"I know that Hannah is too much a timid introvert to gossip about the inner workings of my politics, Marzena, so if that's gotten around to rebellious girls like Olivia, it must be from y-"

"Girls?!" Olivia frowns and huffs. "I'm three years older than you, you damned spoiled brat. But forget about who gossiped to who about what. You want Irene, right? Don't you think it's more than a little suspicious that she vanished without a trace the very morning you walked into a deadly ambush? And now, here she is, in Count Mace's territory. Either she was playing you from the start or she's seen an opportunity to rescue her dear friend Hannah by aiding him, and if she brings word of your war on him up to the Crownlands and frames it correctly, all your ambitions will go up in smoke. Elena can help you get to Irene... in fact she was having some very impure and improper thoughts about Irene, herself. Maybe she had the same about me and trying to get me burned at the stake was her way of lashing out against her own rebellious spirit. Valuable to you, certainly."

"Point taken. Mmm... you've earned the night off, Olivia. But only the night. Tomorrow I expect to see you bouncing up and down in a lucky militiaman's lap making him and his four best compatriots very happy." you say. Olivia huffs and rolls her eyes, but keeps staring at Elena as she gets dressed.

You and Marzena walk over to the priestess, who is panting desperately as she is penetrated by the man in front of her. "Oh... y-you..." she looks genuinely fearful of you. "The latest of the cursed blood of Orban. Please, I ask no... unh!" she squeals in response to a particularly sharp thrust into her pussy, "...no mercy for myself but leave my sisters and matron mother at the church untouched..."

"It's already done." you say lightly. "I and my head sorceress, plus advisor, plus personal jester," Marzena sticks her tongue out and elbows you in the side in response to that one, "are here to give you some advice. Since you've given yourself over to being ravished by the mob you can at least do it properly. Watch me carefully." You crawl onto the table. The soldier standing there starts to recoil but Marzena hems him in and pushes him closer to you. You lasciviously run your tongue all along the side of his shaft before taking the swollen head in onto your tongue.

"And there you have it Miss Prissy Priestess!" Marzena crows. "You are quite privileged for such tutoring, I can say without any humility that Zoe is twice the cocksucker I am."

"Mmmf," you pull away with a string of saliva clinging to the filthy cock that was just in your mouth. "I think you mean *Countess Orban* is twice the cocksucker you are, you black-magicking, blouse-stuffing, dwarf-fornicating hyena."

Elena, the beautiful, busty redheaded priestess, is gratifyingly shocked and appalled at your language. "Oh come off it, priestess," you say to her, reaching over to give one of her breasts a pinch, making her yelp. "You literally have a commoner's cock inside you. You're a whore for fucking now. So learn to speak the language, and learn to use your mouth in other ways - unless you want to double the chances that you'll leave your stint in captivity with a gravid belly." Those harsh words from you make her throw her hands over her eyes and moan - but she does as you say, and soon, she is learning on the job how to gag around a male member even as she's compensating for the momentum of another brute pounding away at her cunt.

The following days on the road give you plenty of time to worm the truth out of Elena and to get the full details of Gregor and Hod's **** plan for the castle. Once you get there, it will be a long, arduous and tense time of preparation, likely requiring many weeks before an opening shows itself, weather permits, and all of the tools of siege are necessary. Dozens of strong trees are felled and cut. Thousands of wheelbarrows of earth are dug up, hauled about and packed into embrasures. Man and tireless undead alike labor to prepare, even as the witches and working girls who followed along with your camp are run ragged by the demands of so many hundreds and hundreds of **** men seeking an outlet for their stress. Of course, even before the task of preparing the attack is done, there may be more awkward situations to resolve in the siege camp...