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Subtitled 'An Interlude and an Equitable Settlement,' this short episode addresses the question left lingering by the previous one, 'What happened to Verona?'  She was, after all, fairly central to the first episode, and appeared at the beginning of the second, but she got left behind in the wake of the new mission.  Set a bit more than two years after that second mission, in these few chapters we see just how she finally decided to deal with her title as countess.", "writing": "Fantasie Eviscerotique\n\nEpisode 2.5\n\nAn Interlude, and an Equitable Settlement\n\nby Adrian VanWormer (Kathalla at FA and IB)\n\nChapter 1\n\n\tThe earl settled comfortably into the large, stuffed leather armchair in his new office, taking a moment to glance at the warm afternoon sun streaming in through the open windows and savor a breath of fresh autumn air, its scents still carrying hints of sawdust, mortar, and varnish from where the last, finishing touches of the embassy building were still being worked on. Glancing back to his guest, he leaned over the desk to extend a hand to the purple-clad, silver-trimmed young black mink in one of the two seats facing him, “I’ll read that now, I think... and, though I know these things are your merest duty, please accept my personal thanks for your part in carrying these sort of missives. You, and people like you, are one of the biggest reasons Drachath is, and remains, strong. The mage-relays help, true, but they can carry only words; you and your brothers in service move much more around the kingdom and beyond, rapidly and efficiently.”\n\n\t“I understand, and appreciate your thanks,” the courier replied with a respectful nod as he handed his burden over, then leaned back in his seat for a moment’s relaxation as he mused with a half-smile, “I wouldn’t have, a year ago... but my father’s suggestion that even a duke’s grandson could learn a lot from this duty has proven to have much merit. The places I’ve been, the people I’ve seen, and everything I’ve observed from both; they give me a much better idea of how big the kingdom really is, how small in comparison to the broader world, and a real understanding of how everything works, that I could never have gotten from my tutors and books alone.” Straightening, then, he stood and bowed across the desk, “In any case, I shall take your châtelaine's offer of a meal and a place to nap while awaiting your reply to whatever the pouch I brought you carried; I know my horse is being well cared-for and your offered remount looks good.” He turned to bow as well to the gowned little vixen in the next seat over and, at her and the earl’s nod, padded quietly out, closing the door behind him.\n\n\tEla shared a smiling glance with her father, then slipped out of her chair as he reached for the diplomatic pouch’s enchanted buckle with his signet ring twisted around on his finger, the two points of subtle magic casting faint glows as side-effects of their ethereal game of challenge and response. Ferrl blinked as he observed it on an arcane level as well as the physical; that last flash as the conditions were met and the ordinary-looking brass buckle visibly loosened had been beige, not blue, which suggested that this was one of the nine or ten special pouches in the kingdom that only a ruling lord’s signet could open, rather than the standard diplomatic bag that any mayor, seneschal, or firstborn noble son had access to. That hint that at least one of the missives in the bag was more important than usual distracted him for just a moment, making him start in surprise at the tug of slender hands at his own belt, and he eased his chair away from the desk and spread his knees to make things a little easier as he opened the gold-trimmed leather pouch and reached in for the stack of folded parchment it contained.\n\n\tThe princess slipped deftly around her adoptive father’s legs to park herself in the hollow beneath the desk, kneeling down even as she unfastened his belt and moved on to the two simple satin ties that held his black pantaloons closed. Custom dictated that, as both earl and ambassador, he read official messages in total privacy so he could decide later what information was or was not to be shared, and with whom... but that custom could be appeased even with Ela in the same room, so long as she was doing something that kept her eyes well away from the pages. Her little muzzle spread into a wide grin as the memory of how they’d arrived at that ‘compromise’ flashed through her mind, and she leaned in closer, the black pad of her nose twitching even as she spread the flaps of smooth fabric to either side of the thick, gray-furred sheath beneath them, its burden already growing visibly thicker from anticipation, and the first, darting lap of her tongue against the furless, salty, and musky slit at its apogee was immediately rewarded by that hint of pink parting, just the very tip of much duskier red flesh peeking forth.\n\n\tFerrl coughed a grunt somewhere between pleasure and approval even as his hips canted slightly to offer better access between the vixen and the erection he’d have soon enough, then started sorting the stack of parchment into different piles. Two collections were for the ‘diplomatic’ correspondence their pouch had been named after, divided between general reports concerning all of the ambassadors to, and from, the surrounding kingdoms, and communications, requests, or directives that applied specifically to Unicorn Vale and the earl’s posting there. Nearly matching both other piles in total size were the all-nobles reports, decrees, and adjustments to existing legal or fiscal policies every holding in the kingdom received; as his job of ambassador was a permanent position, his earl’s-eyes copies had always been sent here with the diplomatic mail, rather than to his official manor in Gatuque. Finally, he was left with a small collection of personal messages, though the majority were still intended for his official persona, their addresses all starting with his complete list of titles from nobility, knighthood, and job... except for one. His eyes closed momentarily to slits as he held the last, sealed letter, the large wolf taking a moment to savor the light brush of teeth as Ela’s muzzle closed around the head of his now-hard shaft, her warm and affectionate tongue already dancing in a swirling, continuous caress around and down his shaft’s thickness, as those pleasant sensations happened to be exactly the sort of feelings his memories called to mind on reading the sender’s signature just below the wax blob sealing the missive. “We’ve got a letter from Verona, dear,” he rumbled to his daughter, her efforts having deepened his already-profound voice even further with a hint of lust.\n\n\tBoth of the nine-year-old’s slim paws closed around his cock, gripping and lightly pumping to keep him stimulated as she lifted her muzzle away from her ‘snack,’ “She only left from her visit last month... Is she just tryin’ to tell us she got home alright?” She pressed the pad of one thumb into his shaft, half stroking, half kneading upwards along the slight bulge of its bottom curve, a happy smile flashing across her muzzle as she was rewarded by a gleaming droplet of pre emerging from the hole at its tip, and she lapped it up with relish before resuming her suckling.\n\n\t“I’d certainly hope not,” the wolf mused as he cracked and peeled off the wax seal. “She’s never seemed the sort to indulge in that sort of frivolous communique,” he added, his voice sinking by almost another octave toward the end as she closed her surprisingly-mobile muzzle around the last three inches of his length and just sucked, another tiny dribble rewarding her efforts, quickly swallowed, before he took the mental half-step away from his daughter’s talented performance he needed to finally, actually open the letter and start to read.\n\n\tPrincess Ela kept up her patient sucking, her head bobbing along his shaft for the scant distance she could get his thick meat down her throat... She could, and did, completely swallow the members of lesser males, even at her age, but ‘Daddy’ had always been impressively endowed even compared to wolves’ general reputation for length and girth. As it was, she could go only far enough to elicit a rumbled half-gasp whenever she pressed down and swallowed, her throat working in bare, but tangible, contact against the very tip of his blunt head. Young or not, though, she was still a vixen, and her mind frequently looked forward to the next few years, when growth would finally let her take the entirety of his weighty manhood in ways only her ass could now. Her ears perked at a lust-fogged chuckle, her green eyes glancing up to see him smiling as he set down the missive, then lean back with his own eyes closed even as his thickness pulsed warningly against her tongue... She immediately clamped both hands around his swollen knot and her lips around the faint flare below his head, tonguing the sensitive slit at its tip furiously through several more throbs before he grunted once more through clenched teeth, and it was suddenly her throat’s turn to do the work again as the first jet of thick, musky wolf-seed flooded her muzzle.\n\n\tA minute or so later Ela was refastening his belt, and took one more moment to pat around her muzzle and make sure she hadn’t missed swallowing a drop (it’d been nearly a year since she’d entered a dining hall with a dribble of white still trailing from her muzzle, and she hadn’t made the same mistake since, but she still checked) before asking, “So, what did our favorite kitty have to say?”\n\n\tThe earl shrugged, “I’m getting the feeling that she was always just a bit more involved with the management of Lark’s Reach than she ever admitted, despite her exile... and, now that she’s had a year or two without, her need for one form of non-sexual stimulation seems to be rearing its head again. She passed through Stonecliff on her way here, last summer, but decided to look around a bit more on the return trip, and that’s what her letter was about. She took some pains to disguise her identity, and she’s staying in their largest farming town rather than the city proper... She thinks it’s worked so far, and that none of the county’s leaders realize that their countess is around, but she’s seen some definite problems, and intends to go about correcting them once she’s gotten my advice, and that of some others of course. Rickar and Lachier are the only others she mentioned in the letter, but she certainly sounds like she’s doing her research as well as she can, from a middle-class inn in a town miles off the courier routes.”\n\n\tThe little vixen smiled, “I’m glad she’s tryin’, though, however things work out... Jus’ like you taught me with reading and fighting and such, it’s good to have more to do than just fuck all day. I do remember that bet I lost!”\n\n\tHer father grinned at that memory... It’d been the first time she hadn’t immediately agreed to whatever he asked her to do, when he’d been setting up a schedule for regular tutoring for her, the cub protesting that she may be the heir at the moment while her siblings were still just a faint swelling in their mother’s midsection, but she had no intention of actually running the earldom when she grew up so she might as well spend her time doing things she enjoyed. His response had been in the form of a wager: if she could spend one week, just one, having sex at least once an hour, and a minimum of ten times a day, he’d call that a valid career and agree that she needn’t learn any other vocation. It’d been halfway through the third day when she staggered into the temporary embassy of the time, just the vacant house closest to the Vale’s border with Drachath really, her fur matted with sweat and the fluids of two genders and at least five species’, and admitted that she was too tired and sore for another, and could he please tell her when her first lesson would be?\n\n\t“I’m glad to hear that the lesson stuck with you,” Ferrl chuckled, nodding, then continued in a more serious vein, “Still... I’ll need to give my reply some thought, and I’ve got all these other letters to work through too... Thank you for your company and that blowjob, as excellent as always my dear, but go run along and see if your mother needs help with the twins. Our dear friend remembered my efficiency as a farm hand, and is asking for ideas primarily relating to county-wide economic issues...”\n\n\tEla grimaced, “Can’t help there... I went from bein’ a slave and owning nothing, to being your daughter and knowing that, if I really wanted it, you’d get me just about anything I asked for. As the one who actually had to earn and pay the money for all my presents, you’re the one to ask about that.”\n\n\tThe earl gave one more soft laugh and ruffled her headfur affectionately, “Yeah... though I might get your grandma to help, too; as a merchant she knows even more about economies than I do. You go help Danara now...”\n\n* * *\n\n\tVerona looked up at the sound of knocking, marking her place with a scrap of ribbon and setting her book on the small table by the bed. Gauze whispered in the early evening air as she rose, the near-transparent fabric’s faint hiss the only sound in the room other than the muffled street noise, her bare feet silent on the hardwood floor.\n\n\t“Message for ye, ma’am,” the teenaged otter piped up as soon as the door was opened, one paw offering a still-sealed letter... and the other discreetly down his pants as his gaze roamed brazenly over the lioness’ silk-blurred charms.\n\n\tThe countess chuckled to herself then took an extra-deep breath, her still-perfect bosom rising impressively beneath her scanty robe, and she deliberately lifted her far leg enough to part the garment’s lower folds as she leaned to the side to reach into a pouch atop the chest of drawers right next to the door. It was all a game, of sorts... As far as the town guard knew, she was a freelance, high-class prostitute... except that no one could prove it. Yes, she dressed in far less than most ‘proper’ women wore, with a deliberation and shamelessness that had shocked even the other local working girls; she knew full well, for example, that she’d just flashed enough pink to the innkeeper’s son that he’d probably be up half the night masturbating to the memory. Yes, she brought three, four, perhaps even five people up to her room per week, mostly men, occasionally women, and even the fine walls of the best inn in town couldn’t entirely muffle the obvious activities that followed. The kicker, though, as far as local law enforcement was concerned, was that no one ever saw money change hands, and both of her ‘johns’ they’d bothered to intercept and question had denied payment for services, past or arranged for the future, while holding steadily-green Truthstones. The rest of her act, however, was flawless; the show she was giving the young messenger was just another part of it, as the coin she fetched and handed to him in exchange for the letter was a mere brass ha’penny. Obviously, or so the guard had concluded, she did view her body as a form of negotiable currency, making up for the pittance she tipped.\n\n\tThe poor soldiers, of course, were out of their league in dealing with a veteran of Fariach’s subtle, devious court intrigues. The adolescents she’d recruited as messengers when she’d still been just another anonymous figure in a traveling cloak, and not the fine whore who’d ridden openly into town at high noon, had already been paid, and well, in silver, and at least two thirds of the letters they carried were fakes she’d written herself, cunningly crafted with references to specific people, places, or dates that she could observe to see if the soldiery had gotten suspicious enough to violate her civil rights and start intercepting her mail. A glance at the seal on her current letter showed her that she was still safe; she’d arranged for her correspondents to use just a dash of an alchemical powder in their sealing wax, one that reacted to the touch of iron (such as a heated knife lifting free a blob of wax without breaking it) by changing to blue, but the wax was still a pleasant shade of cherry red. Still, that guard lieutenant had ridden out in an awful hurry the morning before, in the direction of Stonecliff, so time was almost certainly growing short for her ruse, assuming the higher authority they’d just passed her perplexing case to bothered to do anything about it.\n\n\tThe lioness leaned forward, quite a bit more than was strictly necessary, exchanging the coin for the parchment, and two sets of eyes widened appreciably, one pair over a broad grin as the teen openly enjoyed the offered peek down Verona’s robe, and the other in quickly-hidden realization that this particular letter was not one of her fakes. Those, she always marked, if subtly, a careful claw applied to the still-warm wax of the seal to carve out two to four little divots. To anyone else, they looked just like bubbles in the wax that had been popped, their edges then worn smooth, by casual friction with pouches, pockets, and paws, but there was a certain angularity, almost facets, to their concave curves as caused by her smallest clawtip, and always a tiny scratch she deliberately added just below the surface on the center-side edge of the ‘bubble.’ This wax seal did, indeed, have two such rubbed-off former bubbles, but their inner curves were the dull gloss of naturally re-solidified wax, their edges unmarked. “Thank you,” she rumbled as she closed the otter’s fingers around the coin he was still too distracted to pocket. “I think this is one of the... particularly special messages I’ve been waiting for, so I might not be around much longer. Tell Jolus and Frelin I appreciated their help, and accept my thanks for yours, if I’m not here come morning,” she purred softly, still leaning far over and, as far the ‘casual inn patron’ at the end of the hall (who’d forgotten to remove his guard-issue helmet) could tell, just murmuring quietly teasing endearments to someone too young, and nowhere near rich enough, to be considered a real prospect for taking to bed. The vulpine constable watched her pat the kid on the cheek then return to her room, then blinked as the inexplicably wide-eyed otter staggered away toward the far end of the hall.\n\n\tConcerned, the fox jogged past the prostitute’s closed door to catch up with the child at the landing atop the kitchen’s stairs to the guest rooms. “Are you alright?” he asked as the mustelid turned to face him, still blinking and apparently having trouble focusing. “Did she hit—oh. Never mind.” Now that he was close enough to see and smell such, a great many details settled into place in his mind: the smallish, moist stain in the lad’s pants, right above a gradually-retreating, phallic outline; the faint but unmistakable scent of a lioness centered around a damp spot of fur just to one side of the boy’s muzzle; and, his mind supplied because it explained everything else so well, the imagined happenings of a moment ago, just out of his own sight, where the lady had obviously caressed, or possibly even penetrated, herself with the hand that had ‘patted’ the otter’s face to leave a dose of concentrated, feminine pheromones where she’d touched.\n\n\tBlinking twice more before he finally managed to focus, the otter shrugged, his muzzle twitching with embarrassment, yes, but far more amusement, “I’m... fine, Corporal Tainly. She didn’t hurt me... but I do need to get back to my room and change my pants. Have a good shift once you find the rest of your uniform!”\n\n* * *\n\n\tDearest Verona, the former baroness read once she’d had her bit of amusement, listening through the door to her faithful minion and the confused guard.\n\n\tI’m afraid I do not know the intimate details of Stonecliff’s economy well enough to come up with one of the little tricks or adaptations that allowed me to improve efficiency at that farm in Drake’s Hollow... but my more recent experiences, both in Burtak’s court and at my post as ambassador here in the Vale, have suggested one possible route to increasing the one major business of the county’s that I do know: pure, social jealousy.\n\n\tStonecliff is home to some of the highest-quality granite and marble quarries, and many of the best stonemasons, in all Drachath. My suggestion, should you choose to accept it, is to enter the county seat properly and openly, meet your quasi-husband the count, and convince him to use his local resources and skilled labor on his own castle and possibly a few of the city’s major, public buildings. Make them opulent. Make them drip prosperity and class. Remember the most impressive aspects of the king’s palace in Fariach, and do your level best to surpass them.\n\n\tFinally... have a party. Invite the noble families from two holdings away in every direction, three or even four distant along highways that would both let them get there easily and provide ready transport for any stone orders they may place. Most importantly, even if you can’t convince the dukes, barons, earls, and counts themselves to attend, make absolutely certain that their wives do, or that said ladies come along with their menfolk. I believe you can count on observing a number of smoldering, jealous-eyed looks upon seeing the amazing castle and other buildings that can be made by Stonecliff materials and skill, and they’ll be nagging their husbands mercilessly all the way home, or as soon as they get home if their lords didn’t come along, to do something similar, or at least good enough that your ‘poor, distressed county’s’ architecture is no longer making their mighty castles and palaces look like oversized, graceless stone huts.\n\n\tDepending on the stubbornness of the nobles involved, and the degree to which their ladies can impersonate fishwives, my rough guess is that you should have large orders for stone and its workers coming in from roughly half the number of families you invite, spread out over a period between one month and two years after the social event you’ll be hosting. You’ll want to consult Count Stonecliff’s seneschal, or some similar figure, to get some idea of the time constraints and labor availability for such jobs, though your own cosmetic improvements to the county should also help clarify, as we don’t want to be so successful in this plan that the orders it garners cannot be completed in a timely fashion. Still, with the castle construction you’ll need to do, it’ll be the next spring equinox or even summer solstice before you can actually have the event, so there’ll be time to recruit additional workers, both locally and from Shore Quarry in the northeast of the kingdom, if you’ll need them. Shore Quarry’s stone may be inferior to Stonecliff’s, but they’re probably just as good at working it.\n\n\tI wish you luck in this, or whatever other plan you adopt, and I’d also like to thank you for your visit to meet us in Chraf those two (by the time this letter can reach you) months ago. We’ve occasionally kept notes, just as a matter of curiosity, and you hold the current record for the number of Danara’s climaxes elicited in one night. By rights, as her husband, that achievement should be mine... but don’t you worry any; I’ve got plans, and I’m engaging in certain, very specific exercises, that may allow me to regain my rightful supremacy soon enough.\n\n\tYours truly and as intimately as fate allows,\n\n\tHis Grace, Sir Ferrl, Earl of Gatuque, Knight and former Agent of Drachath, First Ambassador of Drachath to Unicorn Vale, Savior of Lark’s Reach, Vengeance of the Horned Ones, and (by the time you read this, as my test’s next week) Master-Rank Mage\n\nChapter 2\n\n\tVerona still considered herself a ‘bad traveler’ when she bothered to think about it... but with over three weeks in a carriage over the last few months on her way to and from Wheathaven to visit her friend Ferrl and his family as a transitional phase, there was little evidence of discomfort visible as she rode her high-bred little filly through the gates of Stonecliff’s half-circle wall. The far side of the city was set into a hollow carved out of the base of the mountain that gave the county its name and the resources of its specialty, but that mountain itself stood between the holding and both Fariach and the sea, an impassible barrier that virtually nullified the strategic value anyone might gain from occupying the land, so the man-made defenses were fairly token, with fewer towers or walkways for sentries than other cities would include as a matter of course.\n\n\tThe inspection she’d just endured to gain entry... concerned her. Most of what she’d taken along for her visit up north had gone on with the carriage, the baronial crest of Lark’s Reach glittering ostentatiously on its sides and the curtains inside drawn tight, as it had proceeded without her those weeks back, and the few clothes and one coinpurse that barely filled her single saddlebag offered nothing for the guards to object to or even tax. They’d also been obligated to accept her offered justification for entering the city, ‘just visiting,’ as valid despite Stonecliff’s total lack of any sort of tourism, but she’d caught more than one guard officer glaring at her with naked suspicion in their eyes when they thought she wasn’t looking. The enlisted ranks weren’t so hostile, of course, but they gave her cause for worry in their own way, a subtle undercurrent of boredom, or even apathy, detectable in how they moved and spoke throughout the inspection.\n\n\tShe thought about her observations and possible causes for such as she dismounted and led her horse down the main street toward the castle just visible in the distance, as the higher-class neighborhoods even her traveling cloak was obviously good enough for were in that direction even if she had no intention of entering the palace itself yet. By the time she was passing the reins to a well-dressed stableboy along with a tip, no ha’penny this time but a more suitable silver half-crown, she’d come to the tentative conclusion that the soldiers were following orders and policies that hadn’t been updated in a long time, long enough that some, mostly of the enlisted ranks, were starting to question their necessity. It was, in fact, possible that those policies dated all the way back to two years ago, when then-Countess Stonecliff had been executed for her part in a treacherous power-grab against Lark’s Reach as a holding, and Verona’s husband in person. In the brief dimness of the entrance hall to the fine inn, the lioness gave a wistful smile to the empty air and touched her cloak over her bosom, thinking of the locket nestled therein and its tiny portrait of her dear, departed, and still very much missed Hellar.\n\n\tIt was a little early for supper, but lunch had been two meatrolls eaten in the saddle, that she intended to speak about if she ever returned to Marblefield and met that baker again... The promising-looking lumps of well-seasoned mutton on the rolls’ outsides had proven a bit misleading, surrounding cores that were nothing but bread. She was a cat; more than that, she was a lioness, and she had needs. If those external lumps had been honest indicators of more meat inside, the rolls would have been a good meal indeed, but as they’d been she was anything but satisfied. Seating herself at a small table in the corner of the sparsely-populated dining room of the inn, she waved over the first server to look in her direction. “My lunch,” she rumbled, “proved to be a bit dishonest... Tell the kitchen I need a steak, a big one though I don’t particularly care what kind of animal it’s from, cooked rare unless all they’ve got is poultry, but even that would do in a pinch. Two slices of bread with fresh butter to go with it, and a tall glass of white wine; if you can get me all of that within ten minutes, your tip will be in gold I’m so hungry.”\n\n\tThe slim doe who’d been looking a bit worried as a predator demanded meat, clearly none too picky about its source, brightened with a nod as she sketched a hasty curtsy, “The stewpot can just be set aside for a minute or two, then; I’m sure we’ve got some good, red meat we can sear for you in practically no time at all,” and rushed kitchenwards to inform the cook.\n\n\tVerona chuckled to herself at the girl’s industry, then straightened in her seat as the small table’s only other chair scraped against the floor, pulling itself out a moment before a shadow dropped from the rafters into it. That darkness faded rapidly, whiskers twitching around a white muzzle as their rodentine owner grinned at her, “I hope that kid’s still as enthusiastic about her tip when she finds out that the only appropriate steak they have on hand is venison... just like her, if with two more legs originally.”\n\n\tThe countess, unsurprised by his arrival’s suddenness or means, merely smirked, “If you really want to worry her, Diral, two more pieces of the truth would help, the facts that I’m Kathallic and that it’s been over a month since I’ve killed anyone. Anyway... did you get it?”\n\n\tSmirking, the mouse extracted a fairly thick, square jeweler’s box from a large belt pouch and set it on the table, “Right here... and I enjoyed ‘obtaining’ this for you, too. My usual practice spots in Fariach were getting a bit boring, and I’d never been to Stonecliff, so a new challenge was welcome. The ring that you had forwarded to me is also inside.”\n\n\tVerona nodded, a smile on her muzzle even though her belly chose that moment to rumble a complaint of its own, “Good... I prefer to remain anonymous until I show up at morning court tomorrow, so I gave the guards the name of your retired colleague’s wife instead of my own, minus her own title as countess, of course. Is there anything I can do to return the favor? At least let me buy you supper...”\n\n\tThe Agent shook his head, “No, I’ve already had breakfast... and the fun I’ve had here is payment enough for now. I’m planning to have just a bit more after a bit of poking around, as I’ve seen one or two greedy merchant types I’d like to arrange disgraces for before going home, and I think you’ll be a bit too busy in your own right for the sort of ‘thanks’ you used to hand out around court.”\n\n\tThis fetched a low, sultry chuckle as the feline shook her head, “I haven’t given that up... and I won’t be busy until tomorrow morning. I really do need to eat right now, but unless you think that it’d cause lingering scents that would endanger your other plans for the evening, slip in through my window once I have a room.” She licked her lips, “I’ve always loved mice... Nimble in bed, small enough for virtually any position to work, but still, on the average, impressively hung for their size...”\n\n\tEars and whiskers alike perked up as Diral grinned again, “You, my Lady, have a deal. I just caught a whiff of seared venison so your meal will be here shortly, but I’ll be seeing you in an hour or two for... dessert.”\n\n\tVerona gave one more soft laugh and leaned across the table to kiss him on the nose, “I’m looking forward to it, dear.”\n\n* * *\n\n\tCastle Stonecliff had obviously been built before the local quarries had found the best stone. Verona had stopped by the temple keep Sir Gerian lived in on her way back from Chraf, at Danara’s request, to inform him of the birth of his first two grandchildren, and the structure she was approaching now was even more drab than that one had been. Oh, sure, it was a lot bigger, but its plain, medium-gray stone was cut for efficiency, its blockiness broken up only by the rounded corners that came with centuries of age and use. Even the weather-faded buntings at the temple would have been a vast improvement to the castle’s visual appeal.\n\n\tThree of the lovers she’d chosen back in Marblefield had been picked specifically because they’d been to this castle before, and she’d discreetly questioned them about the experience, so the confidence visible in her stride was unfeigned as she strode across the drawbridge with a greeting nod to the guards. Across the stone courtyard and through another raised portcullis and the castle’s open main doors, she immediately turned right, a servant opening the door to the visitors’ coat-room for her to enter. Another helped her out of the traveling cloak she’d worn over her best dress, amber satin complementing both her tawny fur and her golden eyes, and she did her best not to smirk as the handmaiden and manservant, there to assist the castle’s guests, watched her open the box she’d concealed under that cloak and gawked at its contents. They certainly had cause; both the heavy gold ring and the sparkling, diamond tiara she lifted free and donned were items they’d personally seen before, on the person of Countess Hypalia of Stonecliff, now deceased.\n\n\tThe livery-clad mink of the pair recovered first, “You must be Lady Verona... I last remember seeing that tiara from behind, though I was paying far more attention to the tigress whose ass I was enjoying as her large intestine rubbed against my ankle... I thought it was in the treasury vault, waiting for Sir Charad to get married.”\n\n\tHis new countess chuckled, “Sounds like the bucket they chose was too small, if her guts were overflowing like that. Yes, I am Verona and, no, your lord has no idea I’m about to show up... but it’s for the good of the county, I assure you. That bitch who killed my husband was just a symptom of a problem, and I’m here to try solving the actual cause. Baron Hellar would have wanted it that way... He was always more interested in justice than vengeance, so making sure that the holding’s prosperous enough that no future noble here tries the same, treacherous sort of expansion is just one more way I can honor his memory.” She paused for his nod of understanding, then smiled, coming perilously close to the smirk she’d been trying to avoid, “And as for the tiara... well, it was in the vault two days ago, but has since been removed by what equates to a royal decree. One of the best burglars in the kingdom... is also an Agent of the kingdom, and he’s currently sleeping in the room I rented at an inn, traces of his seed still gracing my thighs under this dress, after fetching it for me, and as you know anything that sort of person does is automatically blessed with the king’s own authority.”\n\n\tThe vulpine handmaiden who’d been listening was, evidently, a bit atypical an example of vixenhood, as she’d blushed at each of the references to sex, noticeably darker at her coworker’s mention of anal, but she peeked up to murmur shyly, “I guess the stories we heard about your reputation were true, my Lady...” She cast a sly, sidelong glance to the mink, “You might get to repeat your experience, Eriol, two countesses in a row, but without this one bleeding to death at the time.”\n\n\t“I’d like that...” the servant responded naturally enough, chuckling.\n\n\tVerona grinned, “So would I,” and she looked the vixen up and down, licking her lips, “though Hypalia’s execution was male-only for reasons that wouldn’t apply to my... play. You, my dear, certainly look tasty enough for any number of things where a penis would just get in the way...”\n\n\tEriol laughed as the handmaiden blushed furiously, “We were told about her, and it was the truth! I don’t think you’ll ever get quite the same sort of tongue-lashing the old countess handed out so freely, with this one...” He turned his grin back on the lioness, “And thank the Gods for that, I say. You can call her ‘that bitch’ and get away with it... but the rest of us were stuck simply thinking it. A lot.”\n\n\tThis fetched a nod and a sympathetic smile, “I understand... Well, I should get going to the throne room now, but feel free to share the news among the rest of the castle’s staff. I’m here, I’m easy to get along with, and the title everyone thought would be so empty is about to become something else entirely.”\n\n\tThe hallway leading deeper into the castle was another thing she’d have to take care of if were at all possible; depending on just how the upper floors were supported, it might not be, but the red-carpeted passage was only slightly broader than that found in most middle-class homes. The decorations of paintings, shallow tables, and vases along the sides were good enough as they were, and a vast improvement over the building’s appearance outside, but a bit of grandness was in order on the way to the great hall. In fact, Verona decided as she glanced around the waiting room before the ornate double doors with an appraising eye, this was just about the right width to impress, if it could only be made to extend all the way to the castle’s entrance.\n\n\tThe herald seated behind a small writing desk to one side of the doors, and the guard on the other, both blinked in surprise as they recognized the county’s crest on her jewelry, but she forestalled any questions with an imperious flick of her signet-ringed hand, “I’m joining the court. You needn’t announce me.”\n\n\tBoth men’s expressions grew a bit pained at that, but neither moved to stop her as she opened one half of the door herself and stepped through. The red carpet continued within, edged in polished brass now, and she kept her expression carefully schooled away from the growing amusement she felt as the hubbub of conversations faded by bits and pieces as individuals and groups noticed her. Not deigning to show any notice in return, she kept her eyes on the twin thrones and her regal stride steady, stopping only when she came to the foot of the two steps leading to their dais, then lifted her head to meet the gaze of the man whose title was counterpart to her own, for whom her family had experienced death and chaotic upheaval, for the first time.\n\n\tCount Bromirin of Stonecliff looked to be no more than a year or two beyond her own thirty-four, a classically-colored tiger in silver-trimmed black velvet. The cut of his outfit was snug, showing reasonably fit limbs but just the beginning of a pot belly, and an expression of bewilderment was quickly fading, ears perking as he nodded with an amiable-sounding, cultured rumble, “Countess Verona, I presume. Welcome to my, and I suppose your, castle.”\n\n\tThe lioness shook her head with a faint chuckle, “No, not mine... I read the king’s decree, and the subsequent Proclamation of Ennoblement, quite carefully, and all lands associated with our titles remain firmly yours.” She reached up to touch her tiara with one clawtip, “Even this is technically your property, but it’s mine to wear whenever I wish; my signet is the only physical aspect of my title that I truly own.”\n\n\tThe count shrugged, still unperturbed, “That particular piece never did look very good on Hypalia, Gods rest her... Silver and diamonds work well together, but the particular pattern of black and white where it rested on her scalp made for a contrast that was... jarring. It looks far better on you, I’m not ashamed to admit, and you also look to have better fashion sense than she ever did. Of course, you’ve got two very close shades of fur to work with, rather than three very different ones, but even an ‘easy’ job takes a bit of artistry to do well.”\n\n\tVerona relaxed slightly inside, as this initial meeting was going far better than some of the scenarios she’d run through her mind beforehand, ones involving guards, dungeons, and another round or two of revenge and reprisals. Externally, she simply nodded and stepped up the stairs to settle into the vacant throne beside the count, the unnatural silence of the courtiers finally breaking into renewal of their conversations once more, mostly with her as a topic, as those gathered also felt the tense potential of the moment pass.\n\n\tThe tiger turned briefly back to the man he’d been talking to when she’d first entered, the blue jay’s servant-like uniform coupled with an ornate badge suggesting that he might be the count’s seneschal, and dismissed him with a nod and a gesture before turning back to his new companion, still remarkably unsurprised-seeming at her presence, “Would you like to discuss fashion some more, or is there something else you’d like to talk about? I wouldn’t mind either way; that really is a very nice dress, and clothes are something of a specialty of mine as well.”\n\n\t“Oh, I do have some serious subjects I’d like to discuss with you,” she replied, just a hint of gravity in her tone, then smiled to soften any worry she might have elicited, “but those can wait ‘til after court. I have some plans, you see, to accomplish the same thing your deceased wife wanted, the improvement of this county’s situation, but this time without killing anyone or violating any oaths, to honor my own departed husband’s love of justice. For now, let’s just get to know each other, so I can determine just whether my goals stand a chance... If I can’t get along with you, after all, they certainly don’t. Please, though... let’s talk about something other than fashion; I have a bit of a natural gift there, I’ll admit, but I hardly ever think deeply about it, as most of the real hobbies I enjoy are best practiced nude.” A nearby canid, the embroidered arms on his sleeves proclaiming him a scion of one of the better stone-working families, snorted in amusement, and she turned to smile at him, “Yes, all the rumors about me happen to be true,” then looked back to the tiger, “which I’m hoping you aren’t too picky about. Even if you don’t hate me over the incident involving your wife, her brother, and my husband, if you object to a slut in your court we’ll have difficulty.”\n\n\t“Oh, I could never hate anyone as lovely as you,” the count replied so quickly and smoothly that the words had obviously traveled from his heart to his muzzle without ever giving his brain a chance to interfere, “and I’ve always tried not to judge anyone’s personal habits. Everyone deserves to live their lives however they wish, within the constraints of law and circumstance, and my being the count doesn’t give me any real right to step on their toes in personal matters, whatever the law may say to the contrary.”\n\n\tVerona nodded, “That’s... gracious of you,” even as she winced inside. Her brain started ticking over, her observations throughout the county combining with her impression so far of the count and, even as she continued her light-hearted conversation with him, she was already starting to see that he was part of the problem. A noble of his open, easy-going nature would obviously be well liked... but firmness, resolution, and even an occasional, brutal refusal to yield was necessary to actually rule. Given the servants’ impression of the last countess, the current one was guessing that she’d walked all over this poor man, and had been, effectively, the sole source of any real authority or command in the holding up until her death.\n\n\tThe morning wore on, the dais surrounded by light and pleasant topics, while the only hints of serious business the lioness could catch were conducted with the seneschal or other upper functionaries nearby, never with the count himself, and Verona’s plans and hopes... evolved. She knew, now, that her original goal was possible, and who to take it up with, as Bromirin obviously wouldn’t even try to stop her, but now that end of mere financial stability was starting to seem inadequate. So long as that tiger sat on that throne, there’d always be something subtly wrong with Stonecliff, and by the time the court as a whole retired to the formal dining room for lunch, her choices had narrowed to only three options she could see: leave and ignore the problem, remove the count and hope his elder son had a backbone, or take over and rule the holding herself.\n\nChapter 3\n\n\tHareel clacked his beak thoughtfully as he checked his column of figures for mistakes, still turning the plan as a whole over in his mind... “It’s audacious,” he mused aloud, half to himself, “but perhaps a trifle optimistic, particularly the bit about that loan.” He looked up to address the countess more directly across the small meeting room’s table, “If this party fails to generate the sorts of revenue you expect, we’re going to have a hard time paying back a thousand nobles and more. You’ve hinted that your plans include... ‘discouraging’ the zeal with which our militia collects taxes along the highway, and part of my job is to be suspicious of anything that seems too good to be true. To be blunt, I have to suspect that this is a subtle attempt at revenge, and that nothing good will happen to Stonecliff when it defaults on Lark’s Reach’s loan.”\n\n\tVerona nodded, her expression serious, “I take no offense at your speculation, and I agree that you’d be derelict in your duty if you’d failed to point that out... but that’s why I had my Agent friend bring me that stash of letters from where I’d hidden them while I was still sneaking around, before he left.” She reached into the document case on the table before her, leafed through its contents for a moment, then plucked one piece of parchment from the stack with a smile, sliding it across for the seneschal to read, “There... a signed, sealed, and witnessed oath from my son, Baron Lark’s Reach, that repayment of his loan is to be the very last thing done with any proceeds from this plan, and that if it doesn’t cover all other expenses, any remaining debt will be forgiven without prejudice or consequence.”\n\n\tThe jay blinked, then snatched up the document to read, as ‘too good to be true’ only began to describe how her statement made him feel... then relaxed as he found the contingencies and definitions in the promise, “Ah... I see your son and I think very much alike; his plan to make a specific list of attendees to the event, and to count any orders destined for their holdings’ seats as ‘proceeds,’ is just the sort of thing I’d have come up with to keep anyone who might be minded to bend definitions from quibbling over what was or wasn’t related to this particular deal.” Setting the oath and his previous calculations aside for a moment, he opened the large accounting tome on the table beside him and flipped through it briefly, quill scratching away as he made a few more notes on a fresh sheet of parchment. “Okay... if we take the most expensive palace refurbishing job we’ve ever done, subtract the transport costs as they’d be negligible, and add, oh, twenty percent because we’re going all out... then do the same thing to figures from simpler public building projects, multiplied by an arbitrary three... I get roughly three thousand, four hundred gold nobles. Our treasury at the moment can spare twelve hundred without dipping into the contingency reserve, and the zero-risk loan’s good for an even half of the total, so that leaves five hundred to make up. Any ideas for raising that sort of money, my Lady? If it were Hypalia across from me rather than yourself, taxing travelers would be the obvious choice, but in this case that’s just as obviously not an option.”\n\n\tHis liege-lady nodded again, “I do have one idea... but it’s a risk, the biggest risk of the entire plan, actually, as it could result in a few years of recession if everything goes wrong. The figures you’ve mentioned can be further divided into two categories, the wages paid to laborers and the profit margins of the merchant houses who deal in stone. I propose to offer the latter in the form of tax credits; pay the workers in cash, yes, but rather than just pour money into rich families’ coffers, give them immunity to an equal amount in taxation.” She gave a soft, half-bitter chuckle, “Though they might not go for it... If they’ve been fleecing us to any degree, they’d be unwilling to admit just what their exact percentage of profit in the past has been. To avoid that issue, I suggest never asking; just make them a specific offer in the form of a hard figure and see if they bite.”\n\n\tHareel chirped a laugh of his own, “I can tell you, flatly, that there’s no way in any religion’s hell that those houses will ever tell us just how much they pocket from their work... but your proposal’s not nearly as disaster-prone as you apparently think. The bulk of our revenue has always come from the smaller, but vastly more numerous, taxes on the citizens’ incomes, and it wouldn’t be all that devastating to our government programs to lose a few months’ income from the rich families. I think that might work, as the difference would be made up, and then some, in those same families’ increased taxes should we be even partially successful. Your guest list includes fifteen noble families at the moment, including your own son and the wife of the Earl of Fariach, and if even three of them place orders they otherwise wouldn’t have, over the course of two years after the event, we’ll make back those tax credits and our half of the initial outlay. If five do so, your son’s loan is repaid without any problem, and even if that’s the extent of our direct profit, we’ll still reap the generalized benefits of the stimulating effect that many large jobs will have on our overall economy.”\n\n\tThe timbre of Verona’s laugh at that statement fetched another blink, but she apologized immediately, “Sorry, it was just your phrasing and a coincidental thought I was having at the time... I’m hoping, you see, for a bit of stimulation of my own, just as soon as we’re done here, though anything but economic in nature. Related to that, I should note, is the reason I insisted on working with you instead of the ministers of trade or finance. My... proclivities, let us say, would vastly reduce the amount of actual work we get done if you weren’t so physically incompatible with mammals.”\n\n\tHareel’s beak gaped in an avian grin at that, the seneschal clearly not offended in the least, “I’ll admit that the looks the furred portion of the court keep casting your way have made me curious... but not that curious. I’ll never really understand their fascination with your breasts, though they’re certainly aesthetically pleasing to me on a strictly visual basis, but my mate’s warm cloaca will ever be my true desire. Anyway, I think we’re just about done here. I’ll get things moving on the county’s end, and you can pass the figure of seventeen hundred nobles on to your son as soon as you’ve got a break in those silly games you mammals seem to enjoy so much.”\n\n\tVerona sighed wistfully, “Actually, that sort of thing will only be a game for another week or two, and then I’ll have to be careful... There are two perfectly functional male lions in the court, and my cycle’s just around the corner. Even aside from my personal distaste for the prospect, ending up pregnant with a bastard by one of them wouldn’t make our economic work any easier...”\n\n\tThe bird nodded, his expression understanding, “I’ve seen what heat does to mammals of both genders before, but in a way it’s a good thing you’re getting it out of the way now. Even if the good baron’s loan showed up tomorrow, we still couldn’t start any real work for a month; we need to get the architects and designers working on the planned changes to the castle, have the city council nominate and vote on prospects for which three public buildings get the same treatment, itemize just how much of which sorts of stone, and in what shapes and thicknesses, we’ll be needing, then set the quarry workers to cutting it...” He waved a wing dismissively, smiling, “You don’t need to worry about any of that, though. Other than securing the finances, your part in this was effectively finished when you wrote the list of your own ideas to improve things, so you just have your fun tonight, deal with your body’s trials in your own way when they become an issue, and otherwise just relax.”\n\n\t“Thank you,” the countess rumbled, nodding back even as she nudged her chair back. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help,” she said on her way out. “Your count doesn’t give many direct orders... but I can and will, if they’re needed,” and she shared one last nod with the man before stepping out. Returning to the guest suite she’d been hastily assigned that first night, she paid a brief, but thorough, visit to the privy, then fetched the tiara she normally only wore to court from its box and placed it lightly on her head.\n\n\tBack in the coat room, she found Eriol and the maid she’d learned was named Rianna on duty again, the latter immediately padding to the rack of travel cloaks and reaching for the one she knew was Verona’s. “No,” the lioness quickly called across the room, and the vixen’s hand paused. “I’m not going out... I just came by to see Eriol.”\n\n\tThe mink blinked once, “I am, of course, at your service, my Lady.”\n\n\tChuckling, she nodded, “I certainly hope so...” Padding a few steps over, she glanced through the open upper half of the split door into the room guests’ slaves waited in, but as she’d predicted it was empty, Stonecliff rarely having guests and the courtiers tending to leave their slaves at home. “Good,” the lioness all but purred, turning her head to give the manservant a smoldering look even as she pulled open the lower half of the door, “Could you come in here with me for a bit? I’d very much enjoy it if you... take another look at my tiara from behind, much like you did before but with fewer loose entrails.”\n\n\tHis coworker couldn’t help but burst into giggles, through profound blushes given her shyness, as he stood blinking for a long, stunned moment then shook himself and scrambled to join the countess. “It’s been more than two years since that last, ah, ‘examination,’” he mused as he worked on loosening his belt buckle, “and I’ve managed to acquire a girlfriend in the meantime, the sort with the potential for a much more... permanent relationship... but I think I’ll be able to explain this to her in a way that won’t hurt our current standing. She’s always been pretty understanding about my needs, but sodomy’s never been her cup of proverbial tea.”\n\n\tVerona nodded, but addressed Rianna for a moment, “Sorry to shut you out, dear, but I don’t want to alarm the guards that are just around the corner from the main door, so I’ll be closing this one just to muffle whatever noises we fail to restrain, ourselves.” The poor girl tried, of course, but the battle between embarrassment and amusement within her was still going strong enough that her polite demurral came out as an unintelligible murmur. The door itself, with its lower half’s small counter protruding, offered a convenient place for leaning against, and even if the thick wood would muffle things where the gate guards were concerned, the vixen on just the other side should get an... educational earful. With these thoughts, the countess simply fastened the latch and turned around as she reached up to untie the thin satin laces of her gown behind her neck, the fabric pooling around her feet until she stepped out of it and nudged it aside with one slipper-clad toe.\n\n\tEriol paused in his efforts to unfasten his own belt, momentarily blinking and slack-jawed, then shook his head firmly and continued to work the leather free of its brass buckle. “You, my Lady,” he murred intensely, “look fabulous. I know you have to be about twice my age, but it doesn’t show.”\n\n\tThe countess gave him a purring chuckle as her fingertips roamed over her chest, the gentle prick of claws teasing her nipples into firmness and adding to the moist warmth between her thighs that anticipation alone had already been building, “Mmm... I know, but I enjoy hearing strapping young men say so. Appearance aside, I’m even more grateful to still be as wet as I was in my youth, so,” and she turned again, breasts bobbing as she gripped the sill of the double door and lifted her tail, “why don’t you just take me the ‘normal’ way for a thrust or three, just to get you slick enough for comfort...” Glancing back over her shoulder, she smiled, “I know what you’re going through... I’ve seen that look on too many faces. You can’t really believe that I’m here, and horny, and that you have permission. The moment you can fight past your disbelief and just stick it in, it’ll all clear up and we can simply enjoy the experience together.”\n\n\t“I... I think I understand, milady,” the mink acknowledged, then slipped the last couple of buttons securing his breeches’ flap free. What little firmness his shaft may have lacked when it first sprung into the air was quickly corrected by the scent of aroused lioness as he drew near, pheromones filtering through his brain and fueling his own lust enough to overcome the hesitancy her words had already weakened. It was odd how ‘daring’ it felt to simply rest one hand on her hip, given the sheer degree of liberties he’d already been just short of ordered to take, but his other paw knew what to do, bending his minkhood down and aiming it for the slightly-parted, moist pink flower peeking out from his liege-lady’s tawny mound. His natural hesitancy with any new lover warred for a moment with the rumors of her... ‘experience’ as his head touched those petals, but a compromise came to him before she had cause to verbally nudge him again, and his thrust was firm and deliberate but neither over-gentle nor brutally hard, a half-hissed moan escaping his muzzle as her heat welcomed him in.\n\n\tThe claws of Verona’s fingers dug into the door’s wood where she gripped it, and she knew those of her toes had just embedded themselves in the lining of the slippers she still wore, as she rumbled, “Yesss...” at the sensations of stretching and filling. That minkhood’s basic girth may have been strictly average, but its length made up for it, and its head was a bit more bulbous than most in contrast to its shaft, resulting in a pleasantly stark sensation marking its progress inwards ‘til hips met rump, then slowly back out. She’d started to purr before the servant was half-buried in her humid depths, and by the time he started to withdraw she was sure his new hint of hesitancy was because she was thrumming hard enough for him to feel it through that point of internal joining.\n\n\tEriol’s voice was a bit strained as her outer depths tugged at his sensitive head and he had to restrain his instincts to keep some semblance of a decorous pace on his next steady, inward thrust, murring huskily, “M-milady... you understated your, ah, l-lubricosity; it won’t be taking three thrusts, as I’m sure I’m slick enough already, no matter how much I’d enjoy giving them to you.”\n\n\tThat purr was still heavy in her voice as the countess pulled slowly, deliberately off of his shaft, leaving it to cool for a moment in the air as she replied, “But the fewer thrusts you take there, the more my rear will get to enjoy.” The claws of one hand dug a bit more firmly into the door’s wood as the other reached back, pulling at one of her rumpcheeks to make sure he could see his dusky pink target, “I’m clean, inside and out... so, please...”\n\n\tThe mink didn’t need any extra encouragement this time, and he smiled as he took a firm grip around the base of his lady’s tail, kneading its muscle with his lower fingers as every girlfriend he’d ever had had enjoyed, and aimed with his other hand. His flared head touched that tight-looking pucker and began to ease in, and he relocated his lioness-scented hand to her hip for better leverage, closing his eyes to savor the sensation as that ring spread and gradually engulfed him. He kept the pressure steady but gentle at first, but the bottom flare of his head was still visible when, to his surprise, the level of friction suddenly dropped and his next several inches all but vanished. He froze for an instant until he realized what had happened, that her residual juices on his shaft had coated her ring sufficiently to vastly ease his inward progress, a theory he tested by pressing in again until his sheath’s fur combed through that of her rumpcheeks. The slickness surrounding his length was smoother, but somehow even hotter than her sex had been, and he started easing back out, only to encounter another pleasant surprise as his lover relented from the deliberate relaxation that had let him in, her ass promptly tightening down around his manhood to stroke it in a most satisfactory fashion as he withdrew. The tug when his flare met that ring a second time was firm enough to suggest that she wouldn’t let him slip free until they were both satisfied, and a lustful chuckle escaped his lips as he tightened his grip and gave the purring lady before him what she wanted.\n\n\tNot, of course, that Verona was just purring anymore... The stark sensation of penetration caused by his almost mushroom-like flare was just as enjoyable as it had been before, and she let just a bit more of her control go, letting the tension in her arms lift her off of the door’s shelf enough to start rocking back to meet his next thrust, a breathy mew escaping her lips as his sheath, thicker and far less slick than his shaft, briefly pressed against her nether ring. That mew returned with his next thrust, louder, and by the fourth had graduated to a moan with just a hint of a yowl in its depths despite her efforts to keep quiet. She pressed one arm back against the door and opened her muzzle, another half-yowl managing to escape before she closed it again around her own fur, muffling herself before mere moans could progress to the throaty cries she indulged in in the bedchamber. All the while, practically by reflex, she balanced her anus’ grip between the force of her lover’s thrusts and her own tolerance for friction, giving them both as much of the latter as the former, in alliance with his girth, would permit.\n\n\tSlick as she was inside, that tightness was very near the limits of what Eriol could stand and still experience pleasure, but what passed for thoughts in the lustful haze of his mind could only be grateful for that, as the faint edge of discomfort actually helped him last longer. He’d have been lucky to manage ten thrusts, he knew, had the textured warmth of his countess’ sex been all she’d planned to offer. Still, he wouldn’t last much longer, and he knew it; even if he didn’t need to go to the extremes the lioness was to keep herself relatively quiet, only coarse squeals escaping the two times the taut ring around his minkhood had tightened further for a long moment apiece, his own breaths were trying to come out as half-yipping squeaks now. As ‘cute’ as his girlfriend found those sounds, they were still rather shrill, and had almost gotten them caught a time or two, fooling around in what they’d thought were discreet locations. The hot walls his head was sliding against seemed to tighten, about the same time as the grip around his shaft started tensing a third time, and he knew his own swelling was as much to blame as the feline’s pleasure this time. One hastily-freed hand flashed up to cover his muzzle as his pleasure surged, and it happened to be the one he’d aimed his second penetration with, his lover’s scent and a hint of her taste striking his senses at just the right time to kick his lust up one more, completely unexpected notch, and he all but howled against his palm as he thrust in a final time, lost in the throbbing pulses of ecstasy.\n\n\tThe clenches of Verona’s third climax beat in counterpoint while they lasted... but, eventually, both peaks played themselves out, and he gasped softly at the final stroke of her flesh against his, that ring relaxed again for the moment as she eased up and off of him. He blinked at the hint of red on her smiling muzzle, then glanced down to see her saliva-dampened arm and the points where she’d clearly bitten herself, and stammered, “I-I’m sorry about your arm, m-milady...”\n\n\tThe countess shook her head firmly, her smile unreduced, “Don’t be... Just a little bit of pain, at just the right time, can make things even better, and it was only at my last peak that I bit too hard. I barely broke the skin, anyway; the way it heightened my pleasure was more than worth a bit of a sting.” Kneeling down, she patted around her discarded dress until she found the pocket, then pulled out a handkerchief to start wiping that arm down with.\n\n\t“If you say so, milady,” the mink reluctantly agreed, working on fastening his own breeches and trying not to stare as the cloth was moved from her arm to her crotch, cleaning up the most obvious moisture their shared pleasures had elicited. There was even more of that than he’d realized, he found a moment later when she turned her attention to a tiny puddle on the floor, directly beneath where her sex had been.\n\n\tVerona glanced up in time to spot his look of mild wonder, and smiled, “I told you I’m... wet. Here,” and she stood to press the wadded fabric into his hand, “keep this as a souvenir... and know that you quite handily fulfilled my every expectation. I enjoyed that quite a bit, Eriol.”\n\n\tStill blinking at the intimacy of her ‘gift,’ the servant nodded and glanced around, setting it down on the shelf normally used for slaves’ porridge-bowls. “I... thank you, milady, for your praise and the present, though,” and he glanced down at his hand before wiping it on his breeches, “forgive me if I keep my distance from it for now. I still have the rest of my shift to work, and your scent is all too likely to leave me with an erection that could be hard to explain to whoever I next help into or out of their cloak.”\n\n\tHis liege lady nodded with a smile, “I understand, dear, and I’m not in the least bit offended... I’m not so blinded by the sort of fun we just had to completely forget all notions of propriety!” She’d picked up her dress as she spoke, and he had to look away quickly; the hearty jiggle of her ample bust as she shimmied back into it was enough, even this soon after his climax, to start tightening his breeches anew.\n\n\tAs much to distract himself as any other reason, Eriol stepped across the room and opened the small window high in the wall, meant for ventilation on hot summer days. Turning back to spot the tiara that had led to this event being adjusted back into place, he couldn’t help but laugh, and he pointed at it as he answered her inquiringly-raised brow, “That... I just realized, I never so much as glanced at the back of it this time. You were far more interesting, I’m afraid.”\n\n\tVerona purred huskily, “I’ll take that as a compliment,” and gave him one last pat on the cheek before opening the door and stepping out.\n\n\tRianna was obviously scrambling away from the door, her ears both showing red, as it opened, and her muzzle worked, an apology clear in her eyes.\n\n\t“Oh, don’t be silly,” the countess rumbled around an affectionate smile. “Of course you enjoyed the show, what there was of it... and, if you’re so inclined, I’d like to get to know you just as well as your friend here. It’s entirely up to you, of course, and I wouldn’t dream of pressuring you... but, if you happen to be in my chamber when I get back from court supper tonight, I’ll certainly do my best to make it worth the trip.”\n\n\tAn inarticulate squeak escaped from the shy vixen’s muzzle, her eyes very wide, but even under the starker scents of lust escaping from the room she’d just left, the lioness thought she could detect a hint of vulpine musk... so she simply gave the girl another smile and went on her way. “She means it, that it’s your choice and what the results could be,” she heard Eriol murmur gently behind her, “and she’s good...”\n\nChapter 4\n\n\tVerona sat down and scooted her chair forward, then looked up as a firm knocking came at her door. She couldn’t decide, offhand, whether to grumble, curse, or laugh at the timing, but there was little choice in the short term but to see who it was, and she stood again. “This is a surprise, your Highness,” she couldn’t help but exclaim to the count. Like her, he was still in his nightgown, but he was holding several rolls of parchment as he stepped past her into the room. Luckily for the comfort of her recent ‘playmates,’ this morning she’d woken up in Rianna’s arms again, and that vixen always had to leave early so as not to be missed at the servants’ table for breakfast. None of those who could stick around to dine with her would have been comfortable with the count finding them in ‘his’ countess’ bed.\n\n\t“This is progress!” the tiger all but crowed as he waved his burden like a somewhat flexible sword. “I’ve got the first draft of plans for the castle, and one of our draftsmen is an artist on the side, so he’s also sketched what it should actually look like when we’re finished, not just these flat, featureless floor-plans!” He took the parchments in both hands and looked around, obviously searching for a surface to unroll them on, then blinked at the room’s only table, already quite full, “Oh, dear... I barged in before you’d even eaten, didn’t I? Well, I guess that stands to reason, as I haven’t had breakfast either; not even my morning cordial...” He looked up, ears dipped in genuine contrition, “I’m terribly sorry, but I just couldn’t wait. Would you mind if I rang for another serving, and we could discuss the generalities together before showing you the technical details?”\n\n\tThe countess couldn’t help but chuckle... She’d never seen this side of him, all fired up and in anything but a formal setting, and it was... surprisingly endearing. Nodding, she closed the door and gave the bell pull next to it one yank, then dragged a second chair behind her as she stepped back toward the table, “I think... I’d like that. I must admit that I hadn’t expected this much progress yet either, as it’s not quite two weeks into the project, and it certainly couldn’t hurt to take an early look at what we’ve got. If nothing else, it should mean that the designers will have nearly the whole day to work on any minor changes we may identify.”\n\n\tBy that point a second knock came at the door, followed shortly by a servant poking his head in. “Could you run and fetch the meal that’s probably getting cold in my room, good man?” Bromirin called over amiably enough as he set the documents on the bed and took a seat, “And the decanter with the blue liquid from my sideboard, please.” The manservant bobbed a quick nod and shut the door to dash off, and the tiger turned back toward his hostess, “Vile stuff, the blue... but Hypalia always insisted I drink a shot of it daily. It keeps me calm; the early months of our marriage were fraught with arguments until she introduced me to it, but these days I can hardly remember what they were about. Herbalism may have been a strange hobby for a countess, but she certainly had a knack for it...”\n\n\tVerona frowned, “Too much of a knack, I’d have to say... If no one’s ever bothered to mention it to you, that’s what killed my husband. Hellar was poisoned with an overdose of a very strong medicinal herb, delivered on a dart.”\n\n\tA matching frown tugged at the count’s lips, and he gave a half-apologetic shrug, “There’s not much I can really say to that. I can’t undo what’s been done, and even years later I’m still uncomfortable thinking of the woman I slept beside as a murderess. I was there for the investigation, though, and I couldn’t exactly refute things when it reached the point of her admitting complicity while holding a green Truthstone.”\n\n\tThe lioness sighed, “No, we can’t change the past... but I’m glad we aren’t completely at odds over the matter. Whatever else may color our perceptions, we both know the truth of what happened in the end, but we haven’t let it completely sour our relationship, such as it is and what there is of it.” The corners of her muzzle twitched upwards at the half-coughed chuckle her phrasing elicited, and she forced herself to relax into her seat, adopting a more casual tone as she continued, “For now... let’s just enjoy a meal. I may nurse some suspicions about anything medicinal Hypalia prescribed, but that’s neither here nor there for this morning. I am, indeed, looking forward to seeing those plans and sketches once this table’s cleared...”\n\n* * *\n\n\tVerona sat patiently while the healer worked. This was Stonecliff’s poorest district, unable to afford things the nobility took for granted and the middle class could save up for, but that’s why she’d chosen this shop. The graying equine had almost none of the mystical ‘healer’s gift,’ and what she did have was useful only as an aid to diagnosis, and not all that reliable of one at that, so she had to fall back on mere knowledge and skill to do any good. At the moment, she was carefully measuring out three different clear liquids, two of which smelled even more foul than the residue in the juice glass the countess had purloined, and the third, the feline’s nose told her, was probably triply-distilled, nearly pure alcohol. The liquor and one of the odoriferous concoctions were poured through a small funnel into a narrow-necked bottle of opaque black glass, followed by a scraping from the cup the count had drunk his ‘cordial’ from.\n\n\t“I’ve already got a suspicion about what you brought me,” the old mare noted as she corked the bottle and shook it thoroughly, “but I want to be sure... and I also want to judge its strength if I’m right. The exact dosage will play an important part in just what you may need to do about the rest of what I tell you.”\n\n\tThe countess nodded, her expression grim, “I didn’t expect any good news when I came here, and that sort of warning isn’t leading me toward optimism now.”\n\n\tThe healer snorted, “Good. I hate giving bad news to any client, your Highness, but I dislike shattering happy fantasies even more.” Setting the bottle down, she removed the cork and dipped a hollow glass tube in, a finger at its tip flicking as she carefully extracted a precise amount of the still-clear fluid, then quickly added it to the last of her prepared liquids. That tiny glass’ contents were already taking on a magenta hue, and she held it up near her work-table’s lantern as she watched closely, then breathed a sigh of relief as the color started to fade back to transparency. “I guess I do have a bit of good news,” she mused as she set about pouring the various compounds she’d been working with down her sink’s drain. “This is definitely drudgewort extract, a substance sometimes used as a recreational drug in the lower classes, but even they are usually too smart to mess with it. It produces a mild sense of euphoria, but at the cost of dulling the higher mental processes even more than strong liquor. Both of those effects, I should note, are practically independent of dosage, which is why it’s one of the cheapest ‘highs’ to be found, but each individual plant can vary greatly in its concentration of the active substance. The only two ways to avoid an overdose are to extract each plant separately and test its potency afterward, or to prepare such a large batch at once that any differences will be averaged out, though there’s still a bit of uncertainty involved in the latter technique. Whether by luck or skill, in any case, whoever made this batch kept it mild, if it’s indeed taken in single-shot doses as you’ve described.”\n\n\tNodding, her guest asked, “And what would the higher dose’s effects be?”\n\n\tThis fetched a shrug in reply, “No change in the actual effects, as I said, but in large doses it has the side-effect of being almost instantly addictive, with exceptionally painful withdrawal symptoms. If whoever this was given to had that overdose, they’d need to take at least a little each day or they’d be suffering constant migraines within a week.”\n\n\tVerona frowned again, “And how long would this addiction last? Let’s assume for the moment that my—that the victim was indeed given a higher dose, and has maintained a daily regimen of the lower one ever since... for how long would they be addicted and not know it?”\n\n\tThe mare shrugged again, “Too long. Six months, a year, before the residue of that overdose was worked out of their system...” She blinked at the clear relief on her client’s face, “Someone... someone in the upper class, I’m assuming, has been on drudgewort for that long?”\n\n\tThe countess nodded, her muzzle tautly grim once more, “Yes... but the person responsible, who may have given him the occasional higher dose as a possible form of leverage... has been dead for two years. Count Bromirin has kept taking his ‘calming cordial’ daily since, but I’m very relieved to know that he can stop without ill effect.”\n\n\t“The count?!?” The healer shook her head emphatically, “He has to stop! This is way above my head, your Highness, but even I can see some of the effects this must have had! He was so vigorous and full of ideas, Bromirin was, and it was starting to look like we were in for one of the brighter spots in Stonecliff’s history... until he married Hypalia. I was hardly privy to the highest councils, then or ever, but I could see one distinct change, here at the very bottom, and that’s that my business started getting steadily better within half a year of their union. When I’m the only medical assistance more and more people can afford, I really start to worry.”\n\n\tVerona nodded as she stood, her grim look fading to fierceness, “I share your concerns, and you have my solemn word I’ll do something about them. You also have my extremely profound thanks, and I’ll also be thanking the servant who sent me to you; the castle’s official healer probably wouldn’t have even known about a ‘peasant drug’ like drudgewort, much less how to test the strength of that cordial.” Reaching into the handbag she’d carried (mainly for the knife it concealed, given the neighborhood she was visiting and despite having dragged along a castle guard), she extracted a small coinpurse... then shrugged and emptied it on the table. She’d brought no copper or brass at all, and very little silver, so she couldn’t help but smile as the healer’s eyes widened at the sight of more gold than she’d probably seen in her long life. “This is scant repayment for the favor your skill has done for the entire county,” she mused, “but, please, take it. Use it to help others as you’ve helped your very liege this day, but also find some way to treat yourself for a job well done.”\n\n\tThe healer tore her gaze away from the money and looked into her guest’s eyes for a long moment... then nodded, “I shall. Thank you, in any case; I may have provided you with ‘vital information,’ but only because you brought the evidence to my attention, and because you plan to do something with it. I consider you more my countess, and more worthy of loyalty, than I ever did Hypalia, for the simple fact that you care about the problems you see, and are trying to do something about them.”\n\n\tHer countess shrugged with an odd half-smile as she moved toward the shop’s rickety door, musing, “I wasn’t much of a baroness, since I spent almost all my time slutting around the king’s court... but I couldn’t have slept with all those nobles, retainers, servants, and common citizens without caring for each and every one of them at least a little. To let that many people get so close to me... my libido couldn’t have been the only thing at issue. They’d have known, and all but the most sex-addicted would have abandoned me eventually... if not for my heart.” Sighing, then, she shook off the rest of this rare bout of maudlin introspection, and stepped out to rejoin the waiting guard for her trip back to the castle.\n\n* * *\n\n\tBromirin nodded to the hallway guard as he passed, then stopped at the guest room’s door and knocked. He’d been a bit surprised to find his usual breakfast tray bare save for a note of invitation, though he thought he’d figured out just how it had gotten there. In the last couple weeks, the countess had slept with far more servants than merchants or what passed for courtiers in his county. At the bottom of the heap of nobility as he was, those lingering around his throne room rarely had more than wealth to separate them from the rest of the rabble when all was said and done. Oh, sure, there were a few knights, and he was proud that the elder of his two sons was among them, but it was just one more sign of his holding’s relative unimportance that he couldn’t boast even an earl’s cousin as a regular guest. The castle’s staff, in any case, was obviously taken with the countess for reasons unrelated to her title. He liked her himself, of course, but that couldn’t keep him from feeling just a bit put out that they’d conspired with her to relocate his dining spot without even consulting him on the matter.\n\n\t“Come in!” that welcoming voice called through the door, and he tucked his decanter of cordial a bit more comfortably into his elbow as he opened it and stepped into the room.\n\n\tClosing the door, he looked toward the table and smiled, bowing shallowly while he was at it, “Ah, good... I know my previous visit was rather unexpected, but it’s nice to see that we’re both at least dressed, this time.”\n\n\tVerona nodded, smiling faintly, “I know... That was something I wanted to make up for too, as I hardly look my best in that nightgown, but I was too busy running around to see to it immediately. You’d have found that note on your tray yesterday, if I’d had the time.”\n\n\tSetting the decanter on the room’s small sideboard, he sat in the free chair across the covered dishes from her and frowned slightly, “I’d heard of that... but I must confess that it was a rather confusing report. According to the captain of my guard, you visited two different herbalists, one of them rather... shabby, and that pair of retired professors who we laughingly call the University of Stonecliff. Given what we discussed two days ago, regarding my wife, I can’t help but be at least a little concerned over that itinerary, for its contrast to your work on the great refurbishment project as much as the more recent associations.”\n\n\tThe chuckle this fetched, had he known it, was as much a calculated element of polite conversation as it was a sign of genuine and pleased amusement. He was much brighter in thought and personality in the mornings... Still determined to keep his mood as light as she could before bringing up a subject that would upset him, she took the points he’d raised in a somewhat twisted order. “The second herbalist I visited,” she mused with just a hint of self-deprecatory airiness, “had far more to do with the time of year than any aspect of my visit here... You see, I’m on the very brink of my cycle, and if I hadn’t brewed a tea from those herbs last night, you’d already be able to smell it, and I’d also be a bit more... twitchy, just sitting here. Shopping trips aside, I’ll be absenting myself from your court for another week or so, as I can’t risk being near the lions there, and I’m afraid the friends I’ve made among the local ladies will have to be disappointed, too. I’ll need strictly male companionship, of incompatible species’, despite the best the herbs can do to ease my overall discomfort.”\n\n\tThe count nodded, “Ah... That, at least, I understand, and it’s a point you share in common with Hypalia. Other than when she did her duty to bear my heirs, her own times of fertility were ones of strange-smelling teas and seclusion.”\n\n\tVerona nodded back, but let the hints of lechery and amusement slide from her expression, and her tone was much more formal as she went on, “The first trip to a healer, though, and the trip to the ‘university’ to look something up in their library, my Lord, I’m almost sure you won’t enjoy hearing about, but it’s no less than my duty to inform you of.” She pointed at the decanter he’d set aside, “It’s about that, your ‘cordial.’ I found out what’s in it, and had one of the professors’ students copy the relevant portion of a book on herbs for your perusal... and it was not for your best interests that your wife made it for you.”\n\n\tThe tiger’s brown eyes narrowed as the deepest frown she’d yet seen on him soured his muzzle, but he was clearly thinking about what she’d said, too. “On the surface,” he mused, his own tone less conversational than usual, “this would seem to be another swipe at Hypalia for no more reason than your understandable hatred for her... but I can’t see any possible point. She was proven guilty, and executed; you could gain nothing at this late date from sullying her image save for a husband’s ire, and that could sabotage the project to which your own son has already contributed more than a hundred pounds of gold. The research you’ve done, and your mention of duty, these also work against the obvious theory. Your entertainments may be frivolous, but your behavior in your role as countess has never been less than professional. As much as I may dislike hearing Hypalia’s name besmirched yet again, I must ask you to elaborate on what you’ve already said.”\n\n\t“Milord,” she replied, “that ‘cordial’s’ main ingredient is something called drudgewort, an herb that gets its name for its medicinal effects, yet in two different ways. In one, it is a drug used by the lowest of the low, drudges and the like, who cannot conveniently afford even alcohol to ‘help’ their dreary lives, as it can make one feel good in much the same way, if not to the same degree. In the other sense, it makes one like a drudge, as it’s even worse than liquor in its effect on higher thought. Right now, this morning, when you haven’t had any, you’re thoughtful and intelligent. You were just as mentally stimulating two days ago, when we started discussing the plans you’d brought... but you took your cordial with breakfast, and gradually became bored with the entire topic that had had you so excited when you first burst into this room. The herbalist who identified the drug for me also tested your cordial’s potency... and, to my vast relief, found that it held no danger except for its immediate effects. Beyond my own words, and beyond the documentation I’ll be passing on to you, I ask... no, I beg you, go for just one day without it, look out on your court with a clear mind, and then decide whether I’m right or just a hateful, vengeful widow getting one last useless lick in at a foe already dead.”\n\n\tHe didn’t consciously realize it, but the reason that her final words made Bromirin even angrier than her initial accusation was from distaste at a beautiful, respected woman needing to beg for anything at all, and he stood quickly enough to knock over the chair he’d been using. His eyes closed for a moment as he throttled that surge of rage; he could contemplate its causes later, but for the moment knew he had to deal with the issues at hand, temper or no. Once he was sure he could control his voice, he asked in a tone of deadly calm, “Where is this ‘documentation?’”\n\n\tWordlessly, the countess pointed to a small stack of parchment sitting on the linen chest to one side of the door.\n\n\tNodding curtly, her lord stepped over his fallen chair and scooped the pages up. “I will do as you suggest,” he said, still facing the wall as a matter of prudence while his emotions were so uncertain, “and leave the bottle I brought here... I can get more, easily enough, as my wife had barrels of the stuff made up in advance, and it keeps well. Today, though, I will determine just which of you was right... Whether this day holds the clarity and depth of thought you promise, or simply the temper she feared... we shall have to see.”\n\n\tAs the door closed, Verona closed her eyes, a tear escaping from each to trickle down her cheeks... but they were as much of joy as of pain. Even in a near-rage, the count had been more this morning than the calmly bemused fashion addict she’d first met; more intelligent, more vibrant, and more a man... and she found herself thinking silent, fervent prayers to Kathalla on his behalf, though she dared not speak them, knowing that the entire situation was one for mortals alone to deal with.\n\nChapter 5\n\n\tAfter a breakfast that was lonelier than she’d planned for, a pair of lapine brothers stopped by to drop off reports on the stone-cutting that was just getting started at the quarries they managed... and sandwich her between them on the bed for half an hour’s enjoyable pounding. She studied those reports, and was satisfied with them, in the interval until lunch was delivered, and made another dose of her comforting tea at the same time. It was a useful blend, all but eliminating the nigh-perpetual lubrication she produced, with its more pungent scent than usual, when in heat, and it reduced the physical sensitivity of her swollen mound, but it was less effective at putting out the fires in her thoughts, so she was still annoyingly horny. Luckily, the medicine could only handle her ‘casual’ symptoms, to make it comfortable to sit while she was reading or doing other work to distract her mind from its own, more feral portions; it was far less efficacious under conditions of active stimulation, so she didn’t need to worry about being too dry when she told the liveried young stallion who’d collected her lunch dishes to come back immediately and help justify changing her bedsheets once again.\n\n\tThat linen chest by the door was emptying a bit more rapidly than she was comfortable with... Sure, the colt had promised to have someone bring a complete refill right after supper, but this was still only the first day of her season. Tea or no, her symptoms would only get worse, so she spent a bit of late afternoon raiding the supply of towels in her room’s private bathing chamber, positioning small piles of absorbent cloth at strategic points around the bedroom itself. That, unfortunately, delayed her next cup of tea just a bit longer than planned, so she was squirming a bit when she sat down, a folded washcloth between her thighs, to sip medicine with one hand while reconciling the expenditures portion of her quarry reports against her proposed project budget with the other.\n\n\tExperience with her own biology had taught Verona a balancing act of sorts, between what her body wanted and what it actually needed. If she had as much sex as her inflamed libido demanded, she’d be a mental and physical wreck before the week was half done. Instead, she interspersed the fulfillment of those demands with periods where she’d just have to endure, never terribly long, in which she ate to restore her spent energy, drank more than tea to compensate for the fluids she tended to leak in play, and, at least once a day, bathe to keep those same fluids from leaving her too smelly for even a horny peasant’s comfort. Lapses in hygiene could also result in infection, she knew. Better to ‘waste’ an hour or two in the evening that could be spent beating back her libidinous flames than to leave even one helpful male wondering why the dick he’d stuck into her suddenly itched so badly.\n\n\tThe lioness blinked out of those thoughts, amusing despite their seriousness, as a quiet knock came at her door. Tossing back the last gulp of her tea, she extracted the cloth from between her legs and straightened her lounging robe before moving to see who was there. Said robe was only marginally more modest than the one she’d worn in Marblefield, as she wasn’t planning to go anywhere; it was still too early for her next lover, though, so as a matter of principle she made sure its satin sash was firmly tied. That turned out to be a good piece of foresight on her part, she noted, when her visitor was revealed to be a page in the count’s livery, not quite into his teens, and she couldn’t help but chuckle at the too-large plate codpiece that had been buckled on over his uniform as an improvised chastity belt.\n\n\tThe young feline coughed and blushed as he eyed the faint translucency of her robe and the obvious raised points of her nipples, but recovered quickly enough. “His Highness, C-Count Bromirin of Stonecliff graciously requests the presence of your Highness, C-Countess, and b-begs your companionship for s-supper in his p-p-private suite. He asks that you d-d-dress as befits y-your station, my L-Lady.”\n\n\tWell, that was certainly an interesting change, after their less than cordial parting that very morning. Carefully schooling her features to hide both her wonder and her continued amusement over the lad’s discomfort, the countess nodded solemnly, “I can be ready to join our Lord in ten minutes, but I haven’t been to his quarters before. Could you wait out here and guide me once I’m dressed?”\n\n\tThe child swallowed visibly and gave a jerky nod, “Yes, m-my Lady; I’ll be right out here.”\n\n\tAs soon as she’d closed the door, she untied her sash and tossed the robe onto her bed. The highest-necked of her gowns, a pair of slippers, and her tiara... Verona moved quickly and surely as she gathered what she needed, but before donning any of it there was one, more important issue to take care of. She had to dig around in the room’s drawers to find the one set of underthings she’d brought, as she wore them so rarely, but that comment about dressing for her station suggested that this was the night for them. A few moments with a pair of scissors and one of her spare sashes gave her something to line her underdrawers with, several layers of satin that would absorb anything objectionable if her medicine wore off early, but the soft, fine fabric was also needed for its lack of friction, to keep the very act of walking from proving uncomfortably stimulating.\n\n\tShe took another few minutes to run a brush through the fur of her arms and head, both the most visible parts of her body and the least likely to accidentally titillate too intensely with the bristles, then quickly dressed and set her filigree crown on her head. She may have overrun her estimate by just a minute or two, but the page was still waiting patiently when she finally stepped out of her room. “Our Lord awaits,” she murmured, gesturing for him to lead the way.\n\n* * *\n\n\tThere were two guards waiting at the door she was led to, somewhat more ornate than her own, but neither they nor her guide seemed interested in following her inside. The younger cat had already scampered off when one of the soldiers simply knocked twice on the carved wood and waved her toward its latch.\n\n\tBemusement overrode the vague worries she’d nurtured during the walk through the castle, now, since, if the tiger’s temper had left him inclined toward punishment, there’d be no reason for his official representatives to be this casual about it. It was, after all, his castle, and she certainly hadn’t secured the affections of enough of his guard force to make clapping her in irons and throwing her into the dungeon even slightly difficult. As she finally turned the latch and stepped into the suite, though, her eyes widened. She certainly hadn’t been expecting this!\n\n\tThe sitting room of the suite was softly lit by roughly two dozen long, slender candles spaced evenly about its periphery. She could make out very little of its presumably-fine furnishings, save for the small table in the middle that boasted two more candles of its own. Reflections of those tiny flames flickered in the shine of two wine glasses and the engraved cover of a platter, and gleamed on the silver jewelry of the velvet-clad count as he rose from his comfortable chair. “Your Highness,” he rumbled amiably, with only a hint of formal stiffness, “thank you for accepting my invitation, this eve.”\n\n\tClosing the door behind her helped; the absence of the hallway’s brighter light let her eyes adjust, and she couldn’t help but smile at the almost hopeful expression on her host’s features as she drew nearer. “That invitation was... unexpected,” she admitted as she reached to accept his offered hand, allowing him to guide her to the table’s other chair in proper, courtly fashion, “but, at a minimum, it was bound to prove more positive than the terms of our last... parting, so what could I do but accept?”\n\n\tBromirin nodded as he returned to his own seat, plucking a snowy-white napkin from the table and spreading it in his lap. “That invitation, I should note, was simply to further enhance this meal,” he rumbled conversationally, “which is, itself, a celebration. On one level, I suppose I don’t have much to celebrate, as my view of my holding’s situation is now quite a bit uglier than it’s been in several years... but that’s only because I’m seeing it clearly for the first time since I married my—that is, the old countess.” Brown eyes held those of gold across the table, candlelight flickering in each, and his guest nodded almost against her will as she accepted the implications of his change in phrasing. “What’s worth celebrating is that I see things at last,” he continued, “and, now that I do, I can set about fixing them. I had a long and fascinating conversation with Hareel this morning, only slightly marred by indigestion since I’d snatched a too-quick breakfast after storming out on you so precipitously, once he realized that I actually wanted to discuss something more serious than fashion or idle gossip. Or,” he added with a wry half-smirk, “that I was capable of such a discussion... and, for that capability, I have you alone to thank.”\n\n\tEven in the dim light, the countess was obviously blushing despite her deliberately-casual tone as she replied, “I might beg to differ, by pointing out the help of one poverty-stricken herbalist and two ancient professors... but then, of course, you’d counter with the detail that I’m the one who instigated and coordinated their contributions, and you’d be right. By the way, I’ve already done something about that healer’s finances. Most of it will end up helping her equally-poor neighborhood, but I’m hoping she does at least one good thing for herself with the money. She deserves it.”\n\n\t“I agree,” the tiger nodded, a hint of deliberation audible in his voice, too. Given the countess’ reputation, well confirmed by her romps through his court and the castle’s staff, that blush had been something he’d never expected to see, and he considered himself fortunate to have done so. Special. As if the world had decided to share a tiny, wonderful secret with him alone. Shaking off that hint of introspection, he reached for the cover of the tray and lifted it, his eyes half-closing as the delectable scents of a well-seasoned roast, already sliced, and two bowls of equally-tasty egg drop soup wafted out on a puff of steam. “My—the old countess tended to avoid wine for some reason, during her cycle,” he noted as he set the lid aside and reached for the waiting bottle, its cork only lightly inserted, “but I haven’t noticed that tendency in any other ladies of my court. There’s water on the sideboard if you want it, otherwise help yourself as you see fit.”\n\n\tVerona nodded as she lifted the nearer bowl of soup onto the saucer at her setting, “That, I think, was more a personal decision on her part than anything... physiological. I certainly don’t mind a good vintage in my present condition, though I do have to take a bit more care about getting drunk, if only to preserve my good judgment regarding just whom it’s safe to sleep with.”\n\n\tThis fetched a chuckling nod as she unfolded her own napkin, “I must admit a certain lack of surprise where that’s concerned... You have, since you’ve arrived, shown nothing less than praiseworthy judgment and intelligence in everything you’ve set your mind to, and this should be no different.” Figuring that he’d embarrassed her enough for the moment, he half-rose from his seat to serve her two thick slices of the roast, then helped himself to the same as she took the availability of the bottle as a chance to pour wine into her own glass.\n\n\tThe felines ate, then, in companionable silence, broken only by the clink of silverware against plates and bowls and the occasional faint hiss as one of the candles burned through an impurity in their honey-scented wax. As simple as it was compared to the multiple courses served to the gathered court, the meal was a carnivore’s treat, both the roast and soup little more than protein and flavor, the former plentiful and the latter exquisite. The wine was surprisingly good, too; either the count or one of his chefs had a fine eye for vintages. The morning’s confrontation, the worry and anticipation leading up to it, and the general added annoyance of heat, between them, had resulted in more stress than her two lays that day could relieve by themselves, and the countess blessed the relaxation to be found in that bottle even as she savored its fine aroma and the subtleties of its taste. \n\n\tThe soup bowls empty, the roast reduced to a few stray scraps, and only the sip or two still in the glasses left of the wine, Verona leaned back in her chair and stretched, the motion pleasure enough to put a hint of purr into her voice as she mused, “Did you know, I’m actually glad you were being drugged into insensibility...”\n\n\tThe count blinked, frowning, “Excuse me? How can years of misrule and an economy on the brink of collapse possibly be a good thing... unless the few positive points of your visit have all been an act, and you’re still bent on revenge?”\n\n\tWhite teeth gleamed in the light as the lioness grinned, “I actually have an answer to that. Two, even.” She picked up her glass again and leaned back, cradling it in her hands, “On the practical level, it means less work for me. When I came to your court and found an apparent simpleton on the throne, I thought I’d have to do all the work to set things right. Short of killing you and hoping Sir Charad was more competent, or just washing my hands of the situation and moving back in with my son, my only real option was to let you keep warming that fancy chair while I set about dragging a county I owed nothing to out of the gutter by the scruff of its collective neck.”\n\n\tBromirin blinked again, then snorted, “That’s certainly an interesting way to phrase your options, if hardly complimentary... Still, ‘forthright’ as your deductions may be, I suppose I can’t really disagree with any of them. So, what’s your other answer?”\n\n\t“The other bit of pleasantness in how things turned out to actually be,” she chuckled back, “is more... personal. You’re not a simpleton, as it turns out. The two mornings I got to meet you, out from under the shadow of drudgewort, were... stimulating. I got to meet a fine mind, in the head of a fine man, and that alone made everything I’ve done since arriving worthwhile.”\n\n\tThe tiger’s varicolored features softened as she spoke, and he nodded almost involuntarily as she finished. His scowl replaced by an almost shy smile, he breathed a quiet chuckle of his own and mused, “I suppose you could just be right, seeing it that way... Almost twenty years ago, while my relationship with Hypalia was still just a gleam in my father’s advisers’ eyes, I liked to think that I’d been doing a pretty decent job as count. The orders for stone were coming in regularly, most of my citizens were well-fed and content... then, as was my duty to the succession, I wed.” A faint frown crept back onto his muzzle as he leaned back, his eyes distant, “I still have trouble remembering just where things went sour... I know my wife and I argued, but most of the specifics escaped me; finances, at least, I’m pretty sure were one of our major points of disagreement. She seemed to have all sorts of ‘reasonable, logical’ ways to make more of the county’s collective wealth our own, but life in this castle could hardly be called living in squalor, so I didn’t see any point...” He blinked twice, and looked back to his guest, “It was about that time that my father’s health took a turn for the worse. He’d been enjoying a fairly vigorous retirement, but...” Those eyes widened briefly, then shut tight, tears at their corners, “Oh, that bitch!”\n\n\tVerona easily followed that train of thought, sympathy in her voice even if he couldn’t see her nod, “My husband obviously wasn’t the first noble she’d poisoned... I know more than most ladies of my station, when it comes to herbs and their uses, but Hypalia was clearly much closer to expert. Knowledge, as they say, is a form of power... and it’s clear that no form of power cannot lead to corruption or misuse.”\n\n\tThe count shook his head as more tears dampened his cheeks, “The bandits my knighted son’s troop hunts... are nothing compared to the thievery of the woman who was supposed to love me. She’s stolen two decades of my life, leaving me an idiot qualified for no more, as you put it, than keeping a too-fancy piece of furniture warm. She’s stolen my dreams of being as good a count as my father, and my subjects’ faith in me. And now I realize that she stole him from me, too! The man I looked up to, the man I loved for his strength and wisdom, and who might still be alive today if not for her. The policies she put in place, once she’d drugged me, took more wealth into her and my hands, but at the price of our county’s reputation, its prosperity and strength... The rest of the kingdom doesn’t trust us, and my people rightly blame me for it, as the one who stood idly and ignorantly by while she looted their well-being and connived to steal still more from your prosperous barony, where she stole a precious life from you, too...” Eyes opened to slits as he looked up, a nigh-infinite pain visible in their brown depths, “With so much stolen... what’s left? Is it even worth trying to undo her evil?”\n\n\t“I know about evil,” his guest all but whispered, “its colors, its flavors, its degrees... for I’m Kathallic, and many would call me evil, with cause.” Those eyes opened briefly wider, his ears perking curiously forward, and she continued, “There will always be evil in the world, and in fact we need a certain degree of darkness, for without it we cannot recognize true good. Even the Gods know this, and it’s why they tolerate my Goddess’ continued existence, and that of Her followers. But there is more than just ‘my’ sort of evil... Your—Hypalia’s wickedness is a different matter entirely, and has hurt a vast number of others all out of proportion to its gains, even those personally to her. That is the sort of evil that we must fight against, to stop while it’s still in motion or to correct and compensate for once it has come to pass. And that’s the first of the many things you have left if you’d only see them: your sense of responsibility to undo what has been done. The herbalist who helped cure your drug-induced blindness to these problems, even she saw the effects we’ll need to counter; the growing slums, the falling prosperity of your working-class citizens... and now you see it too. As a second point, you have the wealth and power of your title; simply giving people money at random won’t do a thing in the long term, but judicious use of money combined with a wise ruler’s guidance can do much. It may take months to begin, and it will take years to finish, but your holding and people can once again prosper, with your help. And, third and finally,” and it was her turn to dip her gaze low, “you have... me. You have my respect for the man you were and could be again, and I have the respect and admiration of many of those whose aid we’ll require in the coming days. I did not know, when I stepped into your throne room, just what sort of man I’d find... but who I found was one who’s lost even more than I to that bitch’s schemes, and I’m more than willing to help him take... it... all... back.” One corner of her muzzle quirked up, “Well, as much as can come back... I’ll never see my husband again, nor you your father, and the loving marriage you thought to have was ever an illusion, hiding raw ambition. Everything else, though, we, together, can restore.”\n\n\tBromirin had managed to start smiling again over the course of her various points, and the pain in his eyes was replaced with firmness and resolve. A hint of a warmer emotion crept into their gleam as well, as he nodded and mused, “You make many good points, but you’ve also brought one more to my mind, one that I’d never have dreamed of bringing up otherwise.”\n\n\tThe other corner of Verona’s muzzle twitched up to match the first, and she tilted her head to one side, “Oh? That... sounds like it could be ominous, but your tone suggests something... different.”\n\n\tThe tiger grinned faintly in a near-mirror of her expression, “Oh, I’ll have to agree with that, too... Anyway, what came to mind was one thing each of us has lost that isn’t as irreplaceable as you thought. You see, you respect me, and I respect you, neither of us hates the other over what’s happened in the past, and I’m very grateful for all you’ve done, these last weeks, this very day, and right this moment. The only thing I need to add to that list is that you’re still in heat, and you need someone who’s not a lion to keep you company tonight. Hypalia... wasn’t much for sex. We were married through seventeen of her own seasons, yet we made... no, I won’t call it love at this point. We mated all of four times; our traditional wedding night, as was her duty, and immediately prior to the birth of my two sons with one miscarried pregnancy in between. Given how she doted on those boys, I suspect a bias and her herbs combined for that last case, so that I could possibly add the murder of my unborn daughter to her list of crimes. That ‘miscarriage’ is, at the least... suspect. Still, for those times, even in her heat and my drugged stupor I could tell she wasn’t particularly enjoying herself. I have to suspect as well, now, the additional concoction she had me drink each time after our first; I didn’t enjoy things very well either, and they were over far faster than when I’d simply fooled around with sluts and slaves before my marriage.”\n\n\tThe countess grimaced at him across the half-consumed candles, “I think I know what she gave you, since it’s something I’ve prescribed myself to some of my more elderly lovers... Tell me, was it a syrup-like fluid that was mostly green with a hint of orange?” At his surprised blink and nod, she nodded right back, more firmly, “That was an herb I’m not sure of the name for, but it can increase sexual sensitivity in either gender. I used it sparingly for men whose... ‘equipment’ had trouble registering enough stimulation to perform, but even a bit too much of it adds the side-effect of a sharp reduction in the intensity of any climaxes one might otherwise enjoy.”\n\n\tHe nodded in return one more time, “That certainly fits with what I remember, and since each time was late at night, I’m guessing that my daily dose of drudgewort was wearing off at the time, which is why I remember it at all... You, though, probably won’t share Hypalia’s complaints that I was too big, too spiny, and took too damned long to finish. So, if you think we’re on good enough terms that my offer can compete with whichever servant or courtier you’d planned to have see to your needs tonight...”\n\n\tHis description of those ‘complaints’ had already brought a new light to the lioness’ eyes and a faintly-audible purr to her breath, and she wasted no time at all in nodding in emphatic agreement, “Oh, by all means! In fact, if you still have any of the drug your frigid ex made you take, just a tiny sip can help reduce the wait if you want to ‘see to my needs’ more than once! I may not be able to have a lion, but tigers are physically close enough to resonate with my body’s expectations of what a man should feel like, and this should be even more satisfying than the young wolf I’d been planning to contact after dinner.” She picked her napkin out of her lap and gave her hands a good wiping, then dropped it onto her plate and stood, “My Lord, I would be... honored to share your bed tonight. The king may have forbidden you to remarry, and our titles may be legally separate, but nowhere do they prohibit me from pretending to be your wife, and a far more loving example thereof, tonight.”\n\n\tChuckling, Bromirin stood as well, offering his hand. A satisfied smile brightened his muzzle when she took it, and he gently led her through the candlelit room toward his bedchamber.\n\nEpilogue\n\n\tWaking, slowly and luxuriantly, in a bed she’d never been in before was hardly a new experience for Verona. Though Stonecliff Mountain would keep the city in partial shadow until noon, the clever reflectors on nearby peaks, whole rock faces carved flat then polished to a high shine, meant that at least a bit of the morning sun made it through the room’s skylight, and for several long moments she savored that glow as much as the gentle grip of the striped arm that held her bare body gently beneath the sheets. The count had proven to be, by any measure she could think of, the most satisfying lover she’d taken in the holding, and that was just the first time. With the help of judicious sips of his old wife’s potion, once she’d given the flask a sniff to be sure of its contents and potency, he’d proven it quite handily a second time... and a third, and a fourth. She couldn’t really fault the dead woman for calling him ‘too big,’ as he really was nearly as well hung as her good friend Sir Ferrl, and had a big cat’s spines as well to ring that prodigious girth. Anyone without her degree of... ‘experience,’ she wryly labeled to herself, would indeed have found him an uncomfortable lover, or even painful, and his endurance would only make such an ordeal even worse. For herself, though, she’d found the combination delightful.\n\n\tThe memories of the previous night, naturally enough, started rousing a renewed warmth between her thighs... but that very event cut off her train of thought with brutal suddenness. She should have woken inflamed, in her condition! There shouldn’t have been time or freedom of thought to enjoy the rising sun or fond memories; she should have been jolted from highly-erotic dreams by a nigh-unbearable itch in her depths and begged immediately to be filled with something long enough to scratch it. There was only one reason that itch could be absent, and she murmured under her breath with equal parts joy and dread, “Kathalla... am I pregnant?”\n\n\tThe initial ‘reply’ her terse prayer received was a faint tingling sensation in her lower belly, which faded even as a silent, grating voice spoke in her soul, *Yes, though the recriminations forming in your thoughts as we speak aren’t as justified as you think. You’ve had a lot on your mind, of late, and even I cannot fault your recent efforts, despite it being nearly two months since you’ve dedicated more than simple pleasures to Me. Even if you’d kept the knowledge of the pertinent details foremost, though, fertility between lions and tigers is problematic enough that last night’s play might have been safe regardless, as not even you could know, beforehand, that the counterpart to your title would prove so virile and vigorous.*\n\n\tDespite a direct, divine mandate not to blame herself, the lioness couldn’t help but groan softly before asking, “Still, there are some serious issues involved with crossbreeds between our species’. I care not of the repercussions to myself or my lover, right this moment; what of our child? Will they suffer as a result of my lapse?”\n\n\t*Were you the tigress and he the lion,* her Goddess replied, *that may be, as the resulting liger would have what others would term a growth disorder and, regardless of gender, might end up eight feet tall and weighing four hundred pounds without fat. Tigons, such as the one now growing in your womb, are a bit luckier... Males of this specific crossbreeding tend to be infertile... but your daughter will suffer no such liability, and may freely mate with tigers, lions, or even the occasional very lucky panther and still produce young.*\n\n\tVerona nodded to the morning air, “Thank you, my Goddess... I am indeed comforted, and in gratitude as much as duty I’ll try to correct the minor failing You’d made the point of bringing to my attention.”\n\n\tThere was a sense of agreement and satisfaction from Kathalla, but no further reply. Quiet as the consultation had been, though, it had proven to be enough to start rousing the body beside her, his arm’s grip tightening briefly before his eyes opened and he asked, “Mmm... were you talking to someone, my Lady?”\n\n\tHalf-rolling toward him, so his arm settled naturally into a loose hug, the countess nodded into his shoulder, “Mm-hmm... I was just praying. I don’t often need Kathalla’s aid or advice, but... this morning surprised me, and I needed just a little more information before either of us could decide what to do about it.” He half pulled away, blinking in obvious confusion, so she told him softly and simply, “I’m pregnant by you, and it’s going to be a girl, who won’t have any of the ailments that sometimes afflict halfbreeds.”\n\n\tBromirin’s arms around her stiffened for an instant in surprise, then pulled her even closer with gently-furious strength. His voice was deep and husky as he murmured back, “Please say you’re keeping her... All I can recall of my sons, though I’ve been in a haze all their lives, fills me with pride... but I would very much like a daughter, too. I’d also like you to stay here, with me, and with her. I am... very attracted to you, and it is only the newness of clear thought that keeps me from immediately proclaiming love, instead.”\n\n\t“Since Kathalla says she’ll be healthy and fertile,” the lioness rumbled back, “I have no intention of losing this child... and, yes, I feel too that the admiration we share can deepen into love if we give it just a little more time. I was Countess Stonecliff by the king’s decree... but now I’m willing to be your countess, not just the county’s, in truth as well. I cannot promise monogamy, of course,” and she pulled half-free of his grip to give him a wry smile, “but since we can’t legally marry in the first place, that’s not the political issue it could be. Still... you were the most satisfying lover I’ve had in years, so I’ll almost certainly restrict my usual ‘entertainments’ to daytime. I would be pleased and honored to return here, to your bed, every night.”\n\n\tThe count pulled her back into a close hug, her breasts pressing into his well-muscled chest, “I think that’s a fair arrangement all around, and certainly one I’ll enjoy... You, alone, were making a very good start on dragging my holding back toward prosperity. I think that, together, we’ll do even better at it, and the end result will be even more rewarding. A joy shared is doubled, as the old saying goes.”\n\n\tVerona nodded then took a moment to press a kiss into his throat. “Also,” she murmured, “there’s just one more thing I need to ask of you... It’s something of a religious obligation, and nothing less than payment of our fair debt to Kathalla for easing the mystery and potential worries surrounding our child... Now that you’re functional as the county’s chief magistrate again, any capital crimes will fall under your domain. I ask only for the additional title of Stonecliff’s executioner, so I can sacrifice more than mere pleasure to my Goddess.”\n\n\tShe could feel his jaw muscles tighten as he nodded, but there was no distaste in his voice when he replied, “It can be hard to find anyone willing to do that job anyway; if you’re volunteering, I suppose I can only accept.” The ‘nice’ tiger she’d first met on the throne would have balked at the mere notion of killing anyone, in her estimation; his agreement was one more sign that the title of Count of Stonecliff was no longer the hollow straw doll it had once been.\n\n\tCountess Stonecliff nodded once more as she wormed her way up to plant a brief, fiery kiss on her new partner’s lips, then looked into his eyes and smiled, “And thus we’ve taken back one more thing that bitch stole... my husband. I still miss Hellar, but I do not doubt for a moment that he’d like the man you turned out to be.” The attraction and affection he’d spoken of, and then some, were visible in his eyes as he nodded back, and she kissed him one last time before slipping from his grasp and out from under the sheets, “We’ve got work to do this morning, and if I spend another minute pressed up against your naked body, we wouldn’t get started ‘til lunch. Let’s invite your sons to breakfast, for now, as they deserve to hear the news first, then we can break it to the rest of our people at morning court.”\n\n\t“My Lady is as wise as she is beautiful, on all three counts,” Bromirin agreed with a faint chuckle, rising as well to greet the first day of a better-looking life than he’d ever hoped to have.\n\nThe End\n\n", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "Fantasie Eviscerotique

Episode 2.5

An Interlude, and an Equitable Settlement

by Adrian VanWormer (Kathalla at FA and IB)

Chapter 1

\tThe earl settled comfortably into the large, stuffed leather armchair in his new office, taking a moment to glance at the warm afternoon sun streaming in through the open windows and savor a breath of fresh autumn air, its scents still carrying hints of sawdust, mortar, and varnish from where the last, finishing touches of the embassy building were still being worked on.  Glancing back to his guest, he leaned over the desk to extend a hand to the purple-clad, silver-trimmed young black mink in one of the two seats facing him, “I’ll read that now, I think... and, though I know these things are your merest duty, please accept my personal thanks for your part in carrying these sort of missives.  You, and people like you, are one of the biggest reasons Drachath is, and remains, strong.  The mage-relays help, true, but they can carry only words; you and your brothers in service move much more around the kingdom and beyond, rapidly and efficiently.”

\t“I understand, and appreciate your thanks,” the courier replied with a respectful nod as he handed his burden over, then leaned back in his seat for a moment’s relaxation as he mused with a half-smile, “I wouldn’t have, a year ago... but my father’s suggestion that even a duke’s grandson could learn a lot from this duty has proven to have much merit.  The places I’ve been, the people I’ve seen, and everything I’ve observed from both; they give me a much better idea of how big the kingdom really is, how small in comparison to the broader world, and a real understanding of how everything works, that I could never have gotten from my tutors and books alone.”  Straightening, then, he stood and bowed across the desk, “In any case, I shall take your châtelaine's offer of a meal and a place to nap while awaiting your reply to whatever the pouch I brought you carried; I know my horse is being well cared-for and your offered remount looks good.”  He turned to bow as well to the gowned little vixen in the next seat over and, at her and the earl’s nod, padded quietly out, closing the door behind him.

\tEla shared a smiling glance with her father, then slipped out of her chair as he reached for the diplomatic pouch’s enchanted buckle with his signet ring twisted around on his finger, the two points of subtle magic casting faint glows as side-effects of their ethereal game of challenge and response.  Ferrl blinked as he observed it on an arcane level as well as the physical; that last flash as the conditions were met and the ordinary-looking brass buckle visibly loosened had been beige, not blue, which suggested that this was one of the nine or ten special pouches in the kingdom that only a ruling lord’s signet could open, rather than the standard diplomatic bag that any mayor, seneschal, or firstborn noble son had access to.  That hint that at least one of the missives in the bag was more important than usual distracted him for just a moment, making him start in surprise at the tug of slender hands at his own belt, and he eased his chair away from the desk and spread his knees to make things a little easier as he opened the gold-trimmed leather pouch and reached in for the stack of folded parchment it contained.

\tThe princess slipped deftly around her adoptive father’s legs to park herself in the hollow beneath the desk, kneeling down even as she unfastened his belt and moved on to the two simple satin ties that held his black pantaloons closed.  Custom dictated that, as both earl and ambassador, he read official messages in total privacy so he could decide later what information was or was not to be shared, and with whom... but that custom could be appeased even with Ela in the same room, so long as she was doing something that kept her eyes well away from the pages.  Her little muzzle spread into a wide grin as the memory of how they’d arrived at that ‘compromise’ flashed through her mind, and she leaned in closer, the black pad of her nose twitching even as she spread the flaps of smooth fabric to either side of the thick, gray-furred sheath beneath them, its burden already growing visibly thicker from anticipation, and the first, darting lap of her tongue against the furless, salty, and musky slit at its apogee was immediately rewarded by that hint of pink parting, just the very tip of much duskier red flesh peeking forth.

\tFerrl coughed a grunt somewhere between pleasure and approval even as his hips canted slightly to offer better access between the vixen and the erection he’d have soon enough, then started sorting the stack of parchment into different piles.  Two collections were for the ‘diplomatic’ correspondence their pouch had been named after, divided between general reports concerning all of the ambassadors to, and from, the surrounding kingdoms, and communications, requests, or directives that applied specifically to Unicorn Vale and the earl’s posting there.  Nearly matching both other piles in total size were the all-nobles reports, decrees, and adjustments to existing legal or fiscal policies every holding in the kingdom received; as his job of ambassador was a permanent position, his earl’s-eyes copies had always been sent here with the diplomatic mail, rather than to his official manor in Gatuque.  Finally, he was left with a small collection of personal messages, though the majority were still intended for his official persona, their addresses all starting with his complete list of titles from nobility, knighthood, and job... except for one.  His eyes closed momentarily to slits as he held the last, sealed letter, the large wolf taking a moment to savor the light brush of teeth as Ela’s muzzle closed around the head of his now-hard shaft, her warm and affectionate tongue already dancing in a swirling, continuous caress around and down his shaft’s thickness, as those pleasant sensations happened to be exactly the sort of feelings his memories called to mind on reading the sender’s signature just below the wax blob sealing the missive.  “We’ve got a letter from Verona, dear,” he rumbled to his daughter, her efforts having deepened his already-profound voice even further with a hint of lust.

\tBoth of the nine-year-old’s slim paws closed around his cock, gripping and lightly pumping to keep him stimulated as she lifted her muzzle away from her ‘snack,’ “She only left from her visit last month...  Is she just tryin’ to tell us she got home alright?”  She pressed the pad of one thumb into his shaft, half stroking, half kneading upwards along the slight bulge of its bottom curve, a happy smile flashing across her muzzle as she was rewarded by a gleaming droplet of pre emerging from the hole at its tip, and she lapped it up with relish before resuming her suckling.

\t“I’d certainly hope not,” the wolf mused as he cracked and peeled off the wax seal.  “She’s never seemed the sort to indulge in that sort of frivolous communique,” he added, his voice sinking by almost another octave toward the end as she closed her surprisingly-mobile muzzle around the last three inches of his length and just sucked, another tiny dribble rewarding her efforts, quickly swallowed, before he took the mental half-step away from his daughter’s talented performance he needed to finally, actually open the letter and start to read.

\tPrincess Ela kept up her patient sucking, her head bobbing along his shaft for the scant distance she could get his thick meat down her throat...  She could, and did, completely swallow the members of lesser males, even at her age, but ‘Daddy’ had always been impressively endowed even compared to wolves’ general reputation for length and girth.  As it was, she could go only far enough to elicit a rumbled half-gasp whenever she pressed down and swallowed, her throat working in bare, but tangible, contact against the very tip of his blunt head.  Young or not, though, she was still a vixen, and her mind frequently looked forward to the next few years, when growth would finally let her take the entirety of his weighty manhood in ways only her ass could now.  Her ears perked at a lust-fogged chuckle, her green eyes glancing up to see him smiling as he set down the missive, then lean back with his own eyes closed even as his thickness pulsed warningly against her tongue...  She immediately clamped both hands around his swollen knot and her lips around the faint flare below his head, tonguing the sensitive slit at its tip furiously through several more throbs before he grunted once more through clenched teeth, and it was suddenly her throat’s turn to do the work again as the first jet of thick, musky wolf-seed flooded her muzzle.

\tA minute or so later Ela was refastening his belt, and took one more moment to pat around her muzzle and make sure she hadn’t missed swallowing a drop (it’d been nearly a year since she’d entered a dining hall with a dribble of white still trailing from her muzzle, and she hadn’t made the same mistake since, but she still checked) before asking, “So, what did our favorite kitty have to say?”

\tThe earl shrugged, “I’m getting the feeling that she was always just a bit more involved with the management of Lark’s Reach than she ever admitted, despite her exile... and, now that she’s had a year or two without, her need for one form of non-sexual stimulation seems to be rearing its head again.  She passed through Stonecliff on her way here, last summer, but decided to look around a bit more on the return trip, and that’s what her letter was about.  She took some pains to disguise her identity, and she’s staying in their largest farming town rather than the city proper...  She thinks it’s worked so far, and that none of the county’s leaders realize that their countess is around, but she’s seen some definite problems, and intends to go about correcting them once she’s gotten my advice, and that of some others of course.  Rickar and Lachier are the only others she mentioned in the letter, but she certainly sounds like she’s doing her research as well as she can, from a middle-class inn in a town miles off the courier routes.”

\tThe little vixen smiled, “I’m glad she’s tryin’, though, however things work out...  Jus’ like you taught me with reading and fighting and such, it’s good to have more to do than just fuck all day.  I do remember that bet I lost!”

\tHer father grinned at that memory...  It’d been the first time she hadn’t immediately agreed to whatever he asked her to do, when he’d been setting up a schedule for regular tutoring for her, the cub protesting that she may be the heir at the moment while her siblings were still just a faint swelling in their mother’s midsection, but she had no intention of actually running the earldom when she grew up so she might as well spend her time doing things she enjoyed.  His response had been in the form of a wager: if she could spend one week, just one, having sex at least once an hour, and a minimum of ten times a day, he’d call that a valid career and agree that she needn’t learn any other vocation.  It’d been halfway through the third day when she staggered into the temporary embassy of the time, just the vacant house closest to the Vale’s border with Drachath really, her fur matted with sweat and the fluids of two genders and at least five species’, and admitted that she was too tired and sore for another, and could he please tell her when her first lesson would be?

\t“I’m glad to hear that the lesson stuck with you,” Ferrl chuckled, nodding, then continued in a more serious vein, “Still... I’ll need to give my reply some thought, and I’ve got all these other letters to work through too...  Thank you for your company and that blowjob, as excellent as always my dear, but go run along and see if your mother needs help with the twins.  Our dear friend remembered my efficiency as a farm hand, and is asking for ideas primarily relating to county-wide economic issues...”

\tEla grimaced, “Can’t help there...  I went from bein’ a slave and owning nothing, to being your daughter and knowing that, if I really wanted it, you’d get me just about anything I asked for.  As the one who actually had to earn and pay the money for all my presents, you’re the one to ask about that.”

\tThe earl gave one more soft laugh and ruffled her headfur affectionately, “Yeah... though I might get your grandma to help, too; as a merchant she knows even more about economies than I do.  You go help Danara now...”

* * *

\tVerona looked up at the sound of knocking, marking her place with a scrap of ribbon and setting her book on the small table by the bed.  Gauze whispered in the early evening air as she rose, the near-transparent fabric’s faint hiss the only sound in the room other than the muffled street noise, her bare feet silent on the hardwood floor.

\t“Message for ye, ma’am,” the teenaged otter piped up as soon as the door was opened, one paw offering a still-sealed letter... and the other discreetly down his pants as his gaze roamed brazenly over the lioness’ silk-blurred charms.

\tThe countess chuckled to herself then took an extra-deep breath, her still-perfect bosom rising impressively beneath her scanty robe, and she deliberately lifted her far leg enough to part the garment’s lower folds as she leaned to the side to reach into a pouch atop the chest of drawers right next to the door.  It was all a game, of sorts...  As far as the town guard knew, she was a freelance, high-class prostitute... except that no one could prove it.  Yes, she dressed in far less than most ‘proper’ women wore, with a deliberation and shamelessness that had shocked even the other local working girls; she knew full well, for example, that she’d just flashed enough pink to the innkeeper’s son that he’d probably be up half the night masturbating to the memory.  Yes, she brought three, four, perhaps even five people up to her room per week, mostly men, occasionally women, and even the fine walls of the best inn in town couldn’t entirely muffle the obvious activities that followed.  The kicker, though, as far as local law enforcement was concerned, was that no one ever saw money change hands, and both of her ‘johns’ they’d bothered to intercept and question had denied payment for services, past or arranged for the future, while holding steadily-green Truthstones.  The rest of her act, however, was flawless; the show she was giving the young messenger was just another part of it, as the coin she fetched and handed to him in exchange for the letter was a mere brass ha’penny.  Obviously, or so the guard had concluded, she did view her body as a form of negotiable currency, making up for the pittance she tipped.

\tThe poor soldiers, of course, were out of their league in dealing with a veteran of Fariach’s subtle, devious court intrigues.  The adolescents she’d recruited as messengers when she’d still been just another anonymous figure in a traveling cloak, and not the fine whore who’d ridden openly into town at high noon, had already been paid, and well, in silver, and at least two thirds of the letters they carried were fakes she’d written herself, cunningly crafted with references to specific people, places, or dates that she could observe to see if the soldiery had gotten suspicious enough to violate her civil rights and start intercepting her mail.  A glance at the seal on her current letter showed her that she was still safe; she’d arranged for her correspondents to use just a dash of an alchemical powder in their sealing wax, one that reacted to the touch of iron (such as a heated knife lifting free a blob of wax without breaking it) by changing to blue, but the wax was still a pleasant shade of cherry red.  Still, that guard lieutenant had ridden out in an awful hurry the morning before, in the direction of Stonecliff, so time was almost certainly growing short for her ruse, assuming the higher authority they’d just passed her perplexing case to bothered to do anything about it.

\tThe lioness leaned forward, quite a bit more than was strictly necessary, exchanging the coin for the parchment, and two sets of eyes widened appreciably, one pair over a broad grin as the teen openly enjoyed the offered peek down Verona’s robe, and the other in quickly-hidden realization that this particular letter was not one of her fakes.  Those, she always marked, if subtly, a careful claw applied to the still-warm wax of the seal to carve out two to four little divots.  To anyone else, they looked just like bubbles in the wax that had been popped, their edges then worn smooth, by casual friction with pouches, pockets, and paws, but there was a certain angularity, almost facets, to their concave curves as caused by her smallest clawtip, and always a tiny scratch she deliberately added just below the surface on the center-side edge of the ‘bubble.’  This wax seal did, indeed, have two such rubbed-off former bubbles, but their inner curves were the dull gloss of naturally re-solidified wax, their edges unmarked.  “Thank you,” she rumbled as she closed the otter’s fingers around the coin he was still too distracted to pocket.  “I think this is one of the... particularly special messages I’ve been waiting for, so I might not be around much longer.  Tell Jolus and Frelin I appreciated their help, and accept my thanks for yours, if I’m not here come morning,” she purred softly, still leaning far over and, as far the ‘casual inn patron’ at the end of the hall (who’d forgotten to remove his guard-issue helmet) could tell, just murmuring quietly teasing endearments to someone too young, and nowhere near rich enough, to be considered a real prospect for taking to bed.  The vulpine constable watched her pat the kid on the cheek then return to her room, then blinked as the inexplicably wide-eyed otter staggered away toward the far end of the hall.

\tConcerned, the fox jogged past the prostitute’s closed door to catch up with the child at the landing atop the kitchen’s stairs to the guest rooms.  “Are you alright?” he asked as the mustelid turned to face him, still blinking and apparently having trouble focusing.  “Did she hit—oh.  Never mind.”  Now that he was close enough to see and smell such, a great many details settled into place in his mind: the smallish, moist stain in the lad’s pants, right above a gradually-retreating, phallic outline; the faint but unmistakable scent of a lioness centered around a damp spot of fur just to one side of the boy’s muzzle; and, his mind supplied because it explained everything else so well, the imagined happenings of a moment ago, just out of his own sight, where the lady had obviously caressed, or possibly even penetrated, herself with the hand that had ‘patted’ the otter’s face to leave a dose of concentrated, feminine pheromones where she’d touched.

\tBlinking twice more before he finally managed to focus, the otter shrugged, his muzzle twitching with embarrassment, yes, but far more amusement, “I’m... fine, Corporal Tainly.  She didn’t hurt me... but I do need to get back to my room and change my pants.  Have a good shift once you find the rest of your uniform!”

* * *

\tDearest Verona, the former baroness read once she’d had her bit of amusement, listening through the door to her faithful minion and the confused guard.

\tI’m afraid I do not know the intimate details of Stonecliff’s economy well enough to come up with one of the little tricks or adaptations that allowed me to improve efficiency at that farm in Drake’s Hollow... but my more recent experiences, both in Burtak’s court and at my post as ambassador here in the Vale, have suggested one possible route to increasing the one major business of the county’s that I do know: pure, social jealousy.

\tStonecliff is home to some of the highest-quality granite and marble quarries, and many of the best stonemasons, in all Drachath.  My suggestion, should you choose to accept it, is to enter the county seat properly and openly, meet your quasi-husband the count, and convince him to use his local resources and skilled labor on his own castle and possibly a few of the city’s major, public buildings.  Make them opulent.  Make them drip prosperity and class.  Remember the most impressive aspects of the king’s palace in Fariach, and do your level best to surpass them.

\tFinally... have a party.  Invite the noble families from two holdings away in every direction, three or even four distant along highways that would both let them get there easily and provide ready transport for any stone orders they may place.  Most importantly, even if you can’t convince the dukes, barons, earls, and counts themselves to attend, make absolutely certain that their wives do, or that said ladies come along with their menfolk.  I believe you can count on observing a number of smoldering, jealous-eyed looks upon seeing the amazing castle and other buildings that can be made by Stonecliff materials and skill, and they’ll be nagging their husbands mercilessly all the way home, or as soon as they get home if their lords didn’t come along, to do something similar, or at least good enough that your ‘poor, distressed county’s’ architecture is no longer making their mighty castles and palaces look like oversized, graceless stone huts.

\tDepending on the stubbornness of the nobles involved, and the degree to which their ladies can impersonate fishwives, my rough guess is that you should have large orders for stone and its workers coming in from roughly half the number of families you invite, spread out over a period between one month and two years after the social event you’ll be hosting.  You’ll want to consult Count Stonecliff’s seneschal, or some similar figure, to get some idea of the time constraints and labor availability for such jobs, though your own cosmetic improvements to the county should also help clarify, as we don’t want to be so successful in this plan that the orders it garners cannot be completed in a timely fashion.  Still, with the castle construction you’ll need to do, it’ll be the next spring equinox or even summer solstice before you can actually have the event, so there’ll be time to recruit additional workers, both locally and from Shore Quarry in the northeast of the kingdom, if you’ll need them.  Shore Quarry’s stone may be inferior to Stonecliff’s, but they’re probably just as good at working it.

\tI wish you luck in this, or whatever other plan you adopt, and I’d also like to thank you for your visit to meet us in Chraf those two (by the time this letter can reach you) months ago.  We’ve occasionally kept notes, just as a matter of curiosity, and you hold the current record for the number of Danara’s climaxes elicited in one night.  By rights, as her husband, that achievement should be mine... but don’t you worry any; I’ve got plans, and I’m engaging in certain, very specific exercises, that may allow me to regain my rightful supremacy soon enough.

\tYours truly and as intimately as fate allows,

\tHis Grace, Sir Ferrl, Earl of Gatuque, Knight and former Agent of Drachath, First Ambassador of Drachath to Unicorn Vale, Savior of Lark’s Reach, Vengeance of the Horned Ones, and (by the time you read this, as my test’s next week) Master-Rank Mage

Chapter 2

\tVerona still considered herself a ‘bad traveler’ when she bothered to think about it... but with over three weeks in a carriage over the last few months on her way to and from Wheathaven to visit her friend Ferrl and his family as a transitional phase, there was little evidence of discomfort visible as she rode her high-bred little filly through the gates of Stonecliff’s half-circle wall.  The far side of the city was set into a hollow carved out of the base of the mountain that gave the county its name and the resources of its specialty, but that mountain itself stood between the holding and both Fariach and the sea, an impassible barrier that virtually nullified the strategic value anyone might gain from occupying the land, so the man-made defenses were fairly token, with fewer towers or walkways for sentries than other cities would include as a matter of course.

\tThe inspection she’d just endured to gain entry... concerned her.  Most of what she’d taken along for her visit up north had gone on with the carriage, the baronial crest of Lark’s Reach glittering ostentatiously on its sides and the curtains inside drawn tight, as it had proceeded without her those weeks back, and the few clothes and one coinpurse that barely filled her single saddlebag offered nothing for the guards to object to or even tax.  They’d also been obligated to accept her offered justification for entering the city, ‘just visiting,’ as valid despite Stonecliff’s total lack of any sort of tourism, but she’d caught more than one guard officer glaring at her with naked suspicion in their eyes when they thought she wasn’t looking.  The enlisted ranks weren’t so hostile, of course, but they gave her cause for worry in their own way, a subtle undercurrent of boredom, or even apathy, detectable in how they moved and spoke throughout the inspection.

\tShe thought about her observations and possible causes for such as she dismounted and led her horse down the main street toward the castle just visible in the distance, as the higher-class neighborhoods even her traveling cloak was obviously good enough for were in that direction even if she had no intention of entering the palace itself yet.  By the time she was passing the reins to a well-dressed stableboy along with a tip, no ha’penny this time but a more suitable silver half-crown, she’d come to the tentative conclusion that the soldiers were following orders and policies that hadn’t been updated in a long time, long enough that some, mostly of the enlisted ranks, were starting to question their necessity.  It was, in fact, possible that those policies dated all the way back to two years ago, when then-Countess Stonecliff had been executed for her part in a treacherous power-grab against Lark’s Reach as a holding, and Verona’s husband in person.  In the brief dimness of the entrance hall to the fine inn, the lioness gave a wistful smile to the empty air and touched her cloak over her bosom, thinking of the locket nestled therein and its tiny portrait of her dear, departed, and still very much missed Hellar.

\tIt was a little early for supper, but lunch had been two meatrolls eaten in the saddle, that she intended to speak about if she ever returned to Marblefield and met that baker again...  The promising-looking lumps of well-seasoned mutton on the rolls’ outsides had proven a bit misleading, surrounding cores that were nothing but bread.  She was a cat; more than that, she was a lioness, and she had needs.  If those external lumps had been honest indicators of more meat inside, the rolls would have been a good meal indeed, but as they’d been she was anything but satisfied.  Seating herself at a small table in the corner of the sparsely-populated dining room of the inn, she waved over the first server to look in her direction.  “My lunch,” she rumbled, “proved to be a bit dishonest...  Tell the kitchen I need a steak, a big one though I don’t particularly care what kind of animal it’s from, cooked rare unless all they’ve got is poultry, but even that would do in a pinch.  Two slices of bread with fresh butter to go with it, and a tall glass of white wine; if you can get me all of that within ten minutes, your tip will be in gold I’m so hungry.”

\tThe slim doe who’d been looking a bit worried as a predator demanded meat, clearly none too picky about its source, brightened with a nod as she sketched a hasty curtsy, “The stewpot can just be set aside for a minute or two, then; I’m sure we’ve got some good, red meat we can sear for you in practically no time at all,” and rushed kitchenwards to inform the cook.

\tVerona chuckled to herself at the girl’s industry, then straightened in her seat as the small table’s only other chair scraped against the floor, pulling itself out a moment before a shadow dropped from the rafters into it.  That darkness faded rapidly, whiskers twitching around a white muzzle as their rodentine owner grinned at her, “I hope that kid’s still as enthusiastic about her tip when she finds out that the only appropriate steak they have on hand is venison... just like her, if with two more legs originally.”

\tThe countess, unsurprised by his arrival’s suddenness or means, merely smirked, “If you really want to worry her, Diral, two more pieces of the truth would help, the facts that I’m Kathallic and that it’s been over a month since I’ve killed anyone.  Anyway... did you get it?”

\tSmirking, the mouse extracted a fairly thick, square jeweler’s box from a large belt pouch and set it on the table, “Right here... and I enjoyed ‘obtaining’ this for you, too.  My usual practice spots in Fariach were getting a bit boring, and I’d never been to Stonecliff, so a new challenge was welcome.  The ring that you had forwarded to me is also inside.”

\tVerona nodded, a smile on her muzzle even though her belly chose that moment to rumble a complaint of its own, “Good...  I prefer to remain anonymous until I show up at morning court tomorrow, so I gave the guards the name of your retired colleague’s wife instead of my own, minus her own title as countess, of course.  Is there anything I can do to return the favor?  At least let me buy you supper...”

\tThe Agent shook his head, “No, I’ve already had breakfast... and the fun I’ve had here is payment enough for now.  I’m planning to have just a bit more after a bit of poking around, as I’ve seen one or two greedy merchant types I’d like to arrange disgraces for before going home, and I think you’ll be a bit too busy in your own right for the sort of ‘thanks’ you used to hand out around court.”

\tThis fetched a low, sultry chuckle as the feline shook her head, “I haven’t given that up... and I won’t be busy until tomorrow morning.  I really do need to eat right now, but unless you think that it’d cause lingering scents that would endanger your other plans for the evening, slip in through my window once I have a room.”  She licked her lips, “I’ve always loved mice...  Nimble in bed, small enough for virtually any position to work, but still, on the average, impressively hung for their size...”

\tEars and whiskers alike perked up as Diral grinned again, “You, my Lady, have a deal.  I just caught a whiff of seared venison so your meal will be here shortly, but I’ll be seeing you in an hour or two for... dessert.”

\tVerona gave one more soft laugh and leaned across the table to kiss him on the nose, “I’m looking forward to it, dear.”

* * *

\tCastle Stonecliff had obviously been built before the local quarries had found the best stone.  Verona had stopped by the temple keep Sir Gerian lived in on her way back from Chraf, at Danara’s request, to inform him of the birth of his first two grandchildren, and the structure she was approaching now was even more drab than that one had been.  Oh, sure, it was a lot bigger, but its plain, medium-gray stone was cut for efficiency, its blockiness broken up only by the rounded corners that came with centuries of age and use.  Even the weather-faded buntings at the temple would have been a vast improvement to the castle’s visual appeal.

\tThree of the lovers she’d chosen back in Marblefield had been picked specifically because they’d been to this castle before, and she’d discreetly questioned them about the experience, so the confidence visible in her stride was unfeigned as she strode across the drawbridge with a greeting nod to the guards.  Across the stone courtyard and through another raised portcullis and the castle’s open main doors, she immediately turned right, a servant opening the door to the visitors’ coat-room for her to enter.  Another helped her out of the traveling cloak she’d worn over her best dress, amber satin complementing both her tawny fur and her golden eyes, and she did her best not to smirk as the handmaiden and manservant, there to assist the castle’s guests, watched her open the box she’d concealed under that cloak and gawked at its contents.  They certainly had cause; both the heavy gold ring and the sparkling, diamond tiara she lifted free and donned were items they’d personally seen before, on the person of Countess Hypalia of Stonecliff, now deceased.

\tThe livery-clad mink of the pair recovered first, “You must be Lady Verona...  I last remember seeing that tiara from behind, though I was paying far more attention to the tigress whose ass I was enjoying as her large intestine rubbed against my ankle...  I thought it was in the treasury vault, waiting for Sir Charad to get married.”

\tHis new countess chuckled, “Sounds like the bucket they chose was too small, if her guts were overflowing like that.  Yes, I am Verona and, no, your lord has no idea I’m about to show up... but it’s for the good of the county, I assure you.  That bitch who killed my husband was just a symptom of a problem, and I’m here to try solving the actual cause.  Baron Hellar would have wanted it that way...  He was always more interested in justice than vengeance, so making sure that the holding’s prosperous enough that no future noble here tries the same, treacherous sort of expansion is just one more way I can honor his memory.”  She paused for his nod of understanding, then smiled, coming perilously close to the smirk she’d been trying to avoid, “And as for the tiara... well, it was in the vault two days ago, but has since been removed by what equates to a royal decree.  One of the best burglars in the kingdom... is also an Agent of the kingdom, and he’s currently sleeping in the room I rented at an inn, traces of his seed still gracing my thighs under this dress, after fetching it for me, and as you know anything that sort of person does is automatically blessed with the king’s own authority.”

\tThe vulpine handmaiden who’d been listening was, evidently, a bit atypical an example of vixenhood, as she’d blushed at each of the references to sex, noticeably darker at her coworker’s mention of anal, but she peeked up to murmur shyly, “I guess the stories we heard about your reputation were true, my Lady...”  She cast a sly, sidelong glance to the mink, “You might get to repeat your experience, Eriol, two countesses in a row, but without this one bleeding to death at the time.”

\t“I’d like that...” the servant responded naturally enough, chuckling.

\tVerona grinned, “So would I,” and she looked the vixen up and down, licking her lips, “though Hypalia’s execution was male-only for reasons that wouldn’t apply to my... play.  You, my dear, certainly look tasty enough for any number of things where a penis would just get in the way...”

\tEriol laughed as the handmaiden blushed furiously, “We were told about her, and it was the truth!  I don’t think you’ll ever get quite the same sort of tongue-lashing the old countess handed out so freely, with this one...”  He turned his grin back on the lioness, “And thank the Gods for that, I say.  You can call her ‘that bitch’ and get away with it... but the rest of us were stuck simply thinking it.  A lot.”

\tThis fetched a nod and a sympathetic smile, “I understand...  Well, I should get going to the throne room now, but feel free to share the news among the rest of the castle’s staff.  I’m here, I’m easy to get along with, and the title everyone thought would be so empty is about to become something else entirely.”

\tThe hallway leading deeper into the castle was another thing she’d have to take care of if were at all possible; depending on just how the upper floors were supported, it might not be, but the red-carpeted passage was only slightly broader than that found in most middle-class homes.  The decorations of paintings, shallow tables, and vases along the sides were good enough as they were, and a vast improvement over the building’s appearance outside, but a bit of grandness was in order on the way to the great hall.  In fact, Verona decided as she glanced around the waiting room before the ornate double doors with an appraising eye, this was just about the right width to impress, if it could only be made to extend all the way to the castle’s entrance.

\tThe herald seated behind a small writing desk to one side of the doors, and the guard on the other, both blinked in surprise as they recognized the county’s crest on her jewelry, but she forestalled any questions with an imperious flick of her signet-ringed hand, “I’m joining the court.  You needn’t announce me.”

\tBoth men’s expressions grew a bit pained at that, but neither moved to stop her as she opened one half of the door herself and stepped through.  The red carpet continued within, edged in polished brass now, and she kept her expression carefully schooled away from the growing amusement she felt as the hubbub of conversations faded by bits and pieces as individuals and groups noticed her.  Not deigning to show any notice in return, she kept her eyes on the twin thrones and her regal stride steady, stopping only when she came to the foot of the two steps leading to their dais, then lifted her head to meet the gaze of the man whose title was counterpart to her own, for whom her family had experienced death and chaotic upheaval, for the first time.

\tCount Bromirin of Stonecliff looked to be no more than a year or two beyond her own thirty-four, a classically-colored tiger in silver-trimmed black velvet.  The cut of his outfit was snug, showing reasonably fit limbs but just the beginning of a pot belly, and an expression of bewilderment was quickly fading, ears perking as he nodded with an amiable-sounding, cultured rumble, “Countess Verona, I presume.  Welcome to my, and I suppose your, castle.”

\tThe lioness shook her head with a faint chuckle, “No, not mine...  I read the king’s decree, and the subsequent Proclamation of Ennoblement, quite carefully, and all lands associated with our titles remain firmly yours.”  She reached up to touch her tiara with one clawtip, “Even this is technically your property, but it’s mine to wear whenever I wish; my signet is the only physical aspect of my title that I truly own.”

\tThe count shrugged, still unperturbed, “That particular piece never did look very good on Hypalia, Gods rest her...  Silver and diamonds work well together, but the particular pattern of black and white where it rested on her scalp made for a contrast that was... jarring.  It looks far better on you, I’m not ashamed to admit, and you also look to have better fashion sense than she ever did.  Of course, you’ve got two very close shades of fur to work with, rather than three very different ones, but even an ‘easy’ job takes a bit of artistry to do well.”

\tVerona relaxed slightly inside, as this initial meeting was going far better than some of the scenarios she’d run through her mind beforehand, ones involving guards, dungeons, and another round or two of revenge and reprisals.  Externally, she simply nodded and stepped up the stairs to settle into the vacant throne beside the count, the unnatural silence of the courtiers finally breaking into renewal of their conversations once more, mostly with her as a topic, as those gathered also felt the tense potential of the moment pass.

\tThe tiger turned briefly back to the man he’d been talking to when she’d first entered, the blue jay’s servant-like uniform coupled with an ornate badge suggesting that he might be the count’s seneschal, and dismissed him with a nod and a gesture before turning back to his new companion, still remarkably unsurprised-seeming at her presence, “Would you like to discuss fashion some more, or is there something else you’d like to talk about?  I wouldn’t mind either way; that really is a very nice dress, and clothes are something of a specialty of mine as well.”

\t“Oh, I do have some serious subjects I’d like to discuss with you,” she replied, just a hint of gravity in her tone, then smiled to soften any worry she might have elicited, “but those can wait ‘til after court.  I have some plans, you see, to accomplish the same thing your deceased wife wanted, the improvement of this county’s situation, but this time without killing anyone or violating any oaths, to honor my own departed husband’s love of justice.  For now, let’s just get to know each other, so I can determine just whether my goals stand a chance...  If I can’t get along with you, after all, they certainly don’t.  Please, though... let’s talk about something other than fashion; I have a bit of a natural gift there, I’ll admit, but I hardly ever think deeply about it, as most of the real hobbies I enjoy are best practiced nude.”  A nearby canid, the embroidered arms on his sleeves proclaiming him a scion of one of the better stone-working families, snorted in amusement, and she turned to smile at him, “Yes, all the rumors about me happen to be true,” then looked back to the tiger, “which I’m hoping you aren’t too picky about.  Even if you don’t hate me over the incident involving your wife, her brother, and my husband, if you object to a slut in your court we’ll have difficulty.”

\t“Oh, I could never hate anyone as lovely as you,” the count replied so quickly and smoothly that the words had obviously traveled from his heart to his muzzle without ever giving his brain a chance to interfere, “and I’ve always tried not to judge anyone’s personal habits.  Everyone deserves to live their lives however they wish, within the constraints of law and circumstance, and my being the count doesn’t give me any real right to step on their toes in personal matters, whatever the law may say to the contrary.”

\tVerona nodded, “That’s... gracious of you,” even as she winced inside.  Her brain started ticking over, her observations throughout the county combining with her impression so far of the count and, even as she continued her light-hearted conversation with him, she was already starting to see that he was part of the problem.  A noble of his open, easy-going nature would obviously be well liked... but firmness, resolution, and even an occasional, brutal refusal to yield was necessary to actually rule.  Given the servants’ impression of the last countess, the current one was guessing that she’d walked all over this poor man, and had been, effectively, the sole source of any real authority or command in the holding up until her death.

\tThe morning wore on, the dais surrounded by light and pleasant topics, while the only hints of serious business the lioness could catch were conducted with the seneschal or other upper functionaries nearby, never with the count himself, and Verona’s plans and hopes... evolved.  She knew, now, that her original goal was possible, and who to take it up with, as Bromirin obviously wouldn’t even try to stop her, but now that end of mere financial stability was starting to seem inadequate.  So long as that tiger sat on that throne, there’d always be something subtly wrong with Stonecliff, and by the time the court as a whole retired to the formal dining room for lunch, her choices had narrowed to only three options she could see: leave and ignore the problem, remove the count and hope his elder son had a backbone, or take over and rule the holding herself.

Chapter 3

\tHareel clacked his beak thoughtfully as he checked his column of figures for mistakes, still turning the plan as a whole over in his mind...  “It’s audacious,” he mused aloud, half to himself, “but perhaps a trifle optimistic, particularly the bit about that loan.”  He looked up to address the countess more directly across the small meeting room’s table, “If this party fails to generate the sorts of revenue you expect, we’re going to have a hard time paying back a thousand nobles and more.  You’ve hinted that your plans include... ‘discouraging’ the zeal with which our militia collects taxes along the highway, and part of my job is to be suspicious of anything that seems too good to be true.  To be blunt, I have to suspect that this is a subtle attempt at revenge, and that nothing good will happen to Stonecliff when it defaults on Lark’s Reach’s loan.”

\tVerona nodded, her expression serious, “I take no offense at your speculation, and I agree that you’d be derelict in your duty if you’d failed to point that out... but that’s why I had my Agent friend bring me that stash of letters from where I’d hidden them while I was still sneaking around, before he left.”  She reached into the document case on the table before her, leafed through its contents for a moment, then plucked one piece of parchment from the stack with a smile, sliding it across for the seneschal to read, “There... a signed, sealed, and witnessed oath from my son, Baron Lark’s Reach, that repayment of his loan is to be the very last thing done with any proceeds from this plan, and that if it doesn’t cover all other expenses, any remaining debt will be forgiven without prejudice or consequence.”

\tThe jay blinked, then snatched up the document to read, as ‘too good to be true’ only began to describe how her statement made him feel... then relaxed as he found the contingencies and definitions in the promise, “Ah...  I see your son and I think very much alike; his plan to make a specific list of attendees to the event, and to count any orders destined for their holdings’ seats as ‘proceeds,’ is just the sort of thing I’d have come up with to keep anyone who might be minded to bend definitions from quibbling over what was or wasn’t related to this particular deal.”  Setting the oath and his previous calculations aside for a moment, he opened the large accounting tome on the table beside him and flipped through it briefly, quill scratching away as he made a few more notes on a fresh sheet of parchment.  “Okay... if we take the most expensive palace refurbishing job we’ve ever done, subtract the transport costs as they’d be negligible, and add, oh, twenty percent because we’re going all out... then do the same thing to figures from simpler public building projects, multiplied by an arbitrary three... I get roughly three thousand, four hundred gold nobles.  Our treasury at the moment can spare twelve hundred without dipping into the contingency reserve, and the zero-risk loan’s good for an even half of the total, so that leaves five hundred to make up.  Any ideas for raising that sort of money, my Lady?  If it were Hypalia across from me rather than yourself, taxing travelers would be the obvious choice, but in this case that’s just as obviously not an option.”

\tHis liege-lady nodded again, “I do have one idea... but it’s a risk, the biggest risk of the entire plan, actually, as it could result in a few years of recession if everything goes wrong.  The figures you’ve mentioned can be further divided into two categories, the wages paid to laborers and the profit margins of the merchant houses who deal in stone.  I propose to offer the latter in the form of tax credits; pay the workers in cash, yes, but rather than just pour money into rich families’ coffers, give them immunity to an equal amount in taxation.”  She gave a soft, half-bitter chuckle, “Though they might not go for it...  If they’ve been fleecing us to any degree, they’d be unwilling to admit just what their exact percentage of profit in the past has been.  To avoid that issue, I suggest never asking; just make them a specific offer in the form of a hard figure and see if they bite.”

\tHareel chirped a laugh of his own, “I can tell you, flatly, that there’s no way in any religion’s hell that those houses will ever tell us just how much they pocket from their work... but your proposal’s not nearly as disaster-prone as you apparently think.  The bulk of our revenue has always come from the smaller, but vastly more numerous, taxes on the citizens’ incomes, and it wouldn’t be all that devastating to our government programs to lose a few months’ income from the rich families.  I think that might work, as the difference would be made up, and then some, in those same families’ increased taxes should we be even partially successful.  Your guest list includes fifteen noble families at the moment, including your own son and the wife of the Earl of Fariach, and if even three of them place orders they otherwise wouldn’t have, over the course of two years after the event, we’ll make back those tax credits and our half of the initial outlay.  If five do so, your son’s loan is repaid without any problem, and even if that’s the extent of our direct profit, we’ll still reap the generalized benefits of the stimulating effect that many large jobs will have on our overall economy.”

\tThe timbre of Verona’s laugh at that statement fetched another blink, but she apologized immediately, “Sorry, it was just your phrasing and a coincidental thought I was having at the time...  I’m hoping, you see, for a bit of stimulation of my own, just as soon as we’re done here, though anything but economic in nature.  Related to that, I should note, is the reason I insisted on working with you instead of the ministers of trade or finance.  My... proclivities, let us say, would vastly reduce the amount of actual work we get done if you weren’t so physically incompatible with mammals.”

\tHareel’s beak gaped in an avian grin at that, the seneschal clearly not offended in the least, “I’ll admit that the looks the furred portion of the court keep casting your way have made me curious... but not that curious.  I’ll never really understand their fascination with your breasts, though they’re certainly aesthetically pleasing to me on a strictly visual basis, but my mate’s warm cloaca will ever be my true desire.  Anyway, I think we’re just about done here.  I’ll get things moving on the county’s end, and you can pass the figure of seventeen hundred nobles on to your son as soon as you’ve got a break in those silly games you mammals seem to enjoy so much.”

\tVerona sighed wistfully, “Actually, that sort of thing will only be a game for another week or two, and then I’ll have to be careful...  There are two perfectly functional male lions in the court, and my cycle’s just around the corner.  Even aside from my personal distaste for the prospect, ending up pregnant with a bastard by one of them wouldn’t make our economic work any easier...”

\tThe bird nodded, his expression understanding, “I’ve seen what heat does to mammals of both genders before, but in a way it’s a good thing you’re getting it out of the way now.  Even if the good baron’s loan showed up tomorrow, we still couldn’t start any real work for a month; we need to get the architects and designers working on the planned changes to the castle, have the city council nominate and vote on prospects for which three public buildings get the same treatment, itemize just how much of which sorts of stone, and in what shapes and thicknesses, we’ll be needing, then set the quarry workers to cutting it...”  He waved a wing dismissively, smiling, “You don’t need to worry about any of that, though.  Other than securing the finances, your part in this was effectively finished when you wrote the list of your own ideas to improve things, so you just have your fun tonight, deal with your body’s trials in your own way when they become an issue, and otherwise just relax.”

\t“Thank you,” the countess rumbled, nodding back even as she nudged her chair back.  “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help,” she said on her way out.  “Your count doesn’t give many direct orders... but I can and will, if they’re needed,” and she shared one last nod with the man before stepping out.  Returning to the guest suite she’d been hastily assigned that first night, she paid a brief, but thorough, visit to the privy, then fetched the tiara she normally only wore to court from its box and placed it lightly on her head.

\tBack in the coat room, she found Eriol and the maid she’d learned was named Rianna on duty again, the latter immediately padding to the rack of travel cloaks and reaching for the one she knew was Verona’s.  “No,” the lioness quickly called across the room, and the vixen’s hand paused.  “I’m not going out...  I just came by to see Eriol.”

\tThe mink blinked once, “I am, of course, at your service, my Lady.”

\tChuckling, she nodded, “I certainly hope so...”  Padding a few steps over, she glanced through the open upper half of the split door into the room guests’ slaves waited in, but as she’d predicted it was empty, Stonecliff rarely having guests and the courtiers tending to leave their slaves at home.  “Good,” the lioness all but purred, turning her head to give the manservant a smoldering look even as she pulled open the lower half of the door, “Could you come in here with me for a bit?  I’d very much enjoy it if you... take another look at my tiara from behind, much like you did before but with fewer loose entrails.”

\tHis coworker couldn’t help but burst into giggles, through profound blushes given her shyness, as he stood blinking for a long, stunned moment then shook himself and scrambled to join the countess.  “It’s been more than two years since that last, ah, ‘examination,’” he mused as he worked on loosening his belt buckle, “and I’ve managed to acquire a girlfriend in the meantime, the sort with the potential for a much more... permanent relationship... but I think I’ll be able to explain this to her in a way that won’t hurt our current standing.  She’s always been pretty understanding about my needs, but sodomy’s never been her cup of proverbial tea.”

\tVerona nodded, but addressed Rianna for a moment, “Sorry to shut you out, dear, but I don’t want to alarm the guards that are just around the corner from the main door, so I’ll be closing this one just to muffle whatever noises we fail to restrain, ourselves.”  The poor girl tried, of course, but the battle between embarrassment and amusement within her was still going strong enough that her polite demurral came out as an unintelligible murmur.  The door itself, with its lower half’s small counter protruding, offered a convenient place for leaning against, and even if the thick wood would muffle things where the gate guards were concerned, the vixen on just the other side should get an... educational earful.  With these thoughts, the countess simply fastened the latch and turned around as she reached up to untie the thin satin laces of her gown behind her neck, the fabric pooling around her feet until she stepped out of it and nudged it aside with one slipper-clad toe.

\tEriol paused in his efforts to unfasten his own belt, momentarily blinking and slack-jawed, then shook his head firmly and continued to work the leather free of its brass buckle.  “You, my Lady,” he murred intensely, “look fabulous.  I know you have to be about twice my age, but it doesn’t show.”

\tThe countess gave him a purring chuckle as her fingertips roamed over her chest, the gentle prick of claws teasing her nipples into firmness and adding to the moist warmth between her thighs that anticipation alone had already been building, “Mmm... I know, but I enjoy hearing strapping young men say so.  Appearance aside, I’m even more grateful to still be as wet as I was in my youth, so,” and she turned again, breasts bobbing as she gripped the sill of the double door and lifted her tail, “why don’t you just take me the ‘normal’ way for a thrust or three, just to get you slick enough for comfort...”  Glancing back over her shoulder, she smiled, “I know what you’re going through... I’ve seen that look on too many faces.  You can’t really believe that I’m here, and horny, and that you have permission.  The moment you can fight past your disbelief and just stick it in, it’ll all clear up and we can simply enjoy the experience together.”

\t“I... I think I understand, milady,” the mink acknowledged, then slipped the last couple of buttons securing his breeches’ flap free.  What little firmness his shaft may have lacked when it first sprung into the air was quickly corrected by the scent of aroused lioness as he drew near, pheromones filtering through his brain and fueling his own lust enough to overcome the hesitancy her words had already weakened.  It was odd how ‘daring’ it felt to simply rest one hand on her hip, given the sheer degree of liberties he’d already been just short of ordered to take, but his other paw knew what to do, bending his minkhood down and aiming it for the slightly-parted, moist pink flower peeking out from his liege-lady’s tawny mound.  His natural hesitancy with any new lover warred for a moment with the rumors of her... ‘experience’ as his head touched those petals, but a compromise came to him before she had cause to verbally nudge him again, and his thrust was firm and deliberate but neither over-gentle nor brutally hard, a half-hissed moan escaping his muzzle as her heat welcomed him in.

\tThe claws of Verona’s fingers dug into the door’s wood where she gripped it, and she knew those of her toes had just embedded themselves in the lining of the slippers she still wore, as she rumbled, “Yesss...” at the sensations of stretching and filling.  That minkhood’s basic girth may have been strictly average, but its length made up for it, and its head was a bit more bulbous than most in contrast to its shaft, resulting in a pleasantly stark sensation marking its progress inwards ‘til hips met rump, then slowly back out.  She’d started to purr before the servant was half-buried in her humid depths, and by the time he started to withdraw she was sure his new hint of hesitancy was because she was thrumming hard enough for him to feel it through that point of internal joining.

\tEriol’s voice was a bit strained as her outer depths tugged at his sensitive head and he had to restrain his instincts to keep some semblance of a decorous pace on his next steady, inward thrust, murring huskily, “M-milady... you understated your, ah, l-lubricosity; it won’t be taking three thrusts, as I’m sure I’m slick enough already, no matter how much I’d enjoy giving them to you.”

\tThat purr was still heavy in her voice as the countess pulled slowly, deliberately off of his shaft, leaving it to cool for a moment in the air as she replied, “But the fewer thrusts you take there, the more my rear will get to enjoy.”  The claws of one hand dug a bit more firmly into the door’s wood as the other reached back, pulling at one of her rumpcheeks to make sure he could see his dusky pink target, “I’m clean, inside and out... so, please...”

\tThe mink didn’t need any extra encouragement this time, and he smiled as he took a firm grip around the base of his lady’s tail, kneading its muscle with his lower fingers as every girlfriend he’d ever had had enjoyed, and aimed with his other hand.  His flared head touched that tight-looking pucker and began to ease in, and he relocated his lioness-scented hand to her hip for better leverage, closing his eyes to savor the sensation as that ring spread and gradually engulfed him.  He kept the pressure steady but gentle at first, but the bottom flare of his head was still visible when, to his surprise, the level of friction suddenly dropped and his next several inches all but vanished.  He froze for an instant until he realized what had happened, that her residual juices on his shaft had coated her ring sufficiently to vastly ease his inward progress, a theory he tested by pressing in again until his sheath’s fur combed through that of her rumpcheeks.  The slickness surrounding his length was smoother, but somehow even hotter than her sex had been, and he started easing back out, only to encounter another pleasant surprise as his lover relented from the deliberate relaxation that had let him in, her ass promptly tightening down around his manhood to stroke it in a most satisfactory fashion as he withdrew.  The tug when his flare met that ring a second time was firm enough to suggest that she wouldn’t let him slip free until they were both satisfied, and a lustful chuckle escaped his lips as he tightened his grip and gave the purring lady before him what she wanted.

\tNot, of course, that Verona was just purring anymore...  The stark sensation of penetration caused by his almost mushroom-like flare was just as enjoyable as it had been before, and she let just a bit more of her control go, letting the tension in her arms lift her off of the door’s shelf enough to start rocking back to meet his next thrust, a breathy mew escaping her lips as his sheath, thicker and far less slick than his shaft, briefly pressed against her nether ring.  That mew returned with his next thrust, louder, and by the fourth had graduated to a moan with just a hint of a yowl in its depths despite her efforts to keep quiet.  She pressed one arm back against the door and opened her muzzle, another half-yowl managing to escape before she closed it again around her own fur, muffling herself before mere moans could progress to the throaty cries she indulged in in the bedchamber.  All the while, practically by reflex, she balanced her anus’ grip between the force of her lover’s thrusts and her own tolerance for friction, giving them both as much of the latter as the former, in alliance with his girth, would permit.

\tSlick as she was inside, that tightness was very near the limits of what Eriol could stand and still experience pleasure, but what passed for thoughts in the lustful haze of his mind could only be grateful for that, as the faint edge of discomfort actually helped him last longer.  He’d have been lucky to manage ten thrusts, he knew, had the textured warmth of his countess’ sex been all she’d planned to offer.  Still, he wouldn’t last much longer, and he knew it; even if he didn’t need to go to the extremes the lioness was to keep herself relatively quiet, only coarse squeals escaping the two times the taut ring around his minkhood had tightened further for a long moment apiece, his own breaths were trying to come out as half-yipping squeaks now.  As ‘cute’ as his girlfriend found those sounds, they were still rather shrill, and had almost gotten them caught a time or two, fooling around in what they’d thought were discreet locations.  The hot walls his head was sliding against seemed to tighten, about the same time as the grip around his shaft started tensing a third time, and he knew his own swelling was as much to blame as the feline’s pleasure this time.  One hastily-freed hand flashed up to cover his muzzle as his pleasure surged, and it happened to be the one he’d aimed his second penetration with, his lover’s scent and a hint of her taste striking his senses at just the right time to kick his lust up one more, completely unexpected notch, and he all but howled against his palm as he thrust in a final time, lost in the throbbing pulses of ecstasy.

\tThe clenches of Verona’s third climax beat in counterpoint while they lasted... but, eventually, both peaks played themselves out, and he gasped softly at the final stroke of her flesh against his, that ring relaxed again for the moment as she eased up and off of him.  He blinked at the hint of red on her smiling muzzle, then glanced down to see her saliva-dampened arm and the points where she’d clearly bitten herself, and stammered, “I-I’m sorry about your arm, m-milady...”

\tThe countess shook her head firmly, her smile unreduced, “Don’t be...  Just a little bit of pain, at just the right time, can make things even better, and it was only at my last peak that I bit too hard.  I barely broke the skin, anyway; the way it heightened my pleasure was more than worth a bit of a sting.”  Kneeling down, she patted around her discarded dress until she found the pocket, then pulled out a handkerchief to start wiping that arm down with.

\t“If you say so, milady,” the mink reluctantly agreed, working on fastening his own breeches and trying not to stare as the cloth was moved from her arm to her crotch, cleaning up the most obvious moisture their shared pleasures had elicited.  There was even more of that than he’d realized, he found a moment later when she turned her attention to a tiny puddle on the floor, directly beneath where her sex had been.

\tVerona glanced up in time to spot his look of mild wonder, and smiled, “I told you I’m... wet.  Here,” and she stood to press the wadded fabric into his hand, “keep this as a souvenir... and know that you quite handily fulfilled my every expectation.  I enjoyed that quite a bit, Eriol.”

\tStill blinking at the intimacy of her ‘gift,’ the servant nodded and glanced around, setting it down on the shelf normally used for slaves’ porridge-bowls.  “I... thank you, milady, for your praise and the present, though,” and he glanced down at his hand before wiping it on his breeches, “forgive me if I keep my distance from it for now.  I still have the rest of my shift to work, and your scent is all too likely to leave me with an erection that could be hard to explain to whoever I next help into or out of their cloak.”

\tHis liege lady nodded with a smile, “I understand, dear, and I’m not in the least bit offended...  I’m not so blinded by the sort of fun we just had to completely forget all notions of propriety!”  She’d picked up her dress as she spoke, and he had to look away quickly; the hearty jiggle of her ample bust as she shimmied back into it was enough, even this soon after his climax, to start tightening his breeches anew.

\tAs much to distract himself as any other reason, Eriol stepped across the room and opened the small window high in the wall, meant for ventilation on hot summer days.  Turning back to spot the tiara that had led to this event being adjusted back into place, he couldn’t help but laugh, and he pointed at it as he answered her inquiringly-raised brow, “That...  I just realized, I never so much as glanced at the back of it this time.  You were far more interesting, I’m afraid.”

\tVerona purred huskily, “I’ll take that as a compliment,” and gave him one last pat on the cheek before opening the door and stepping out.

\tRianna was obviously scrambling away from the door, her ears both showing red, as it opened, and her muzzle worked, an apology clear in her eyes.

\t“Oh, don’t be silly,” the countess rumbled around an affectionate smile.  “Of course you enjoyed the show, what there was of it... and, if you’re so inclined, I’d like to get to know you just as well as your friend here.  It’s entirely up to you, of course, and I wouldn’t dream of pressuring you... but, if you happen to be in my chamber when I get back from court supper tonight, I’ll certainly do my best to make it worth the trip.”

\tAn inarticulate squeak escaped from the shy vixen’s muzzle, her eyes very wide, but even under the starker scents of lust escaping from the room she’d just left, the lioness thought she could detect a hint of vulpine musk... so she simply gave the girl another smile and went on her way.  “She means it, that it’s your choice and what the results could be,” she heard Eriol murmur gently behind her, “and she’s good...”

Chapter 4

\tVerona sat down and scooted her chair forward, then looked up as a firm knocking came at her door.  She couldn’t decide, offhand, whether to grumble, curse, or laugh at the timing, but there was little choice in the short term but to see who it was, and she stood again.  “This is a surprise, your Highness,” she couldn’t help but exclaim to the count.  Like her, he was still in his nightgown, but he was holding several rolls of parchment as he stepped past her into the room.  Luckily for the comfort of her recent ‘playmates,’ this morning she’d woken up in Rianna’s arms again, and that vixen always had to leave early so as not to be missed at the servants’ table for breakfast.  None of those who could stick around to dine with her would have been comfortable with the count finding them in ‘his’ countess’ bed.

\t“This is progress!” the tiger all but crowed as he waved his burden like a somewhat flexible sword.  “I’ve got the first draft of plans for the castle, and one of our draftsmen is an artist on the side, so he’s also sketched what it should actually look like when we’re finished, not just these flat, featureless floor-plans!”  He took the parchments in both hands and looked around, obviously searching for a surface to unroll them on, then blinked at the room’s only table, already quite full, “Oh, dear... I barged in before you’d even eaten, didn’t I?  Well, I guess that stands to reason, as I haven’t had breakfast either; not even my morning cordial...”  He looked up, ears dipped in genuine contrition, “I’m terribly sorry, but I just couldn’t wait.  Would you mind if I rang for another serving, and we could discuss the generalities together before showing you the technical details?”

\tThe countess couldn’t help but chuckle...  She’d never seen this side of him, all fired up and in anything but a formal setting, and it was... surprisingly endearing.  Nodding, she closed the door and gave the bell pull next to it one yank, then dragged a second chair behind her as she stepped back toward the table, “I think... I’d like that.  I must admit that I hadn’t expected this much progress yet either, as it’s not quite two weeks into the project, and it certainly couldn’t hurt to take an early look at what we’ve got.  If nothing else, it should mean that the designers will have nearly the whole day to work on any minor changes we may identify.”

\tBy that point a second knock came at the door, followed shortly by a servant poking his head in.  “Could you run and fetch the meal that’s probably getting cold in my room, good man?” Bromirin called over amiably enough as he set the documents on the bed and took a seat, “And the decanter with the blue liquid from my sideboard, please.”  The manservant bobbed a quick nod and shut the door to dash off, and the tiger turned back toward his hostess, “Vile stuff, the blue... but Hypalia always insisted I drink a shot of it daily.  It keeps me calm; the early months of our marriage were fraught with arguments until she introduced me to it, but these days I can hardly remember what they were about.  Herbalism may have been a strange hobby for a countess, but she certainly had a knack for it...”

\tVerona frowned, “Too much of a knack, I’d have to say...  If no one’s ever bothered to mention it to you, that’s what killed my husband.  Hellar was poisoned with an overdose of a very strong medicinal herb, delivered on a dart.”

\tA matching frown tugged at the count’s lips, and he gave a half-apologetic shrug, “There’s not much I can really say to that.  I can’t undo what’s been done, and even years later I’m still uncomfortable thinking of the woman I slept beside as a murderess.  I was there for the investigation, though, and I couldn’t exactly refute things when it reached the point of her admitting complicity while holding a green Truthstone.”

\tThe lioness sighed, “No, we can’t change the past... but I’m glad we aren’t completely at odds over the matter.  Whatever else may color our perceptions, we both know the truth of what happened in the end, but we haven’t let it completely sour our relationship, such as it is and what there is of it.”  The corners of her muzzle twitched upwards at the half-coughed chuckle her phrasing elicited, and she forced herself to relax into her seat, adopting a more casual tone as she continued, “For now... let’s just enjoy a meal.  I may nurse some suspicions about anything medicinal Hypalia prescribed, but that’s neither here nor there for this morning.  I am, indeed, looking forward to seeing those plans and sketches once this table’s cleared...”

* * *

\tVerona sat patiently while the healer worked.  This was Stonecliff’s poorest district, unable to afford things the nobility took for granted and the middle class could save up for, but that’s why she’d chosen this shop.  The graying equine had almost none of the mystical ‘healer’s gift,’ and what she did have was useful only as an aid to diagnosis, and not all that reliable of one at that, so she had to fall back on mere knowledge and skill to do any good.  At the moment, she was carefully measuring out three different clear liquids, two of which smelled even more foul than the residue in the juice glass the countess had purloined, and the third, the feline’s nose told her, was probably triply-distilled, nearly pure alcohol.  The liquor and one of the odoriferous concoctions were poured through a small funnel into a narrow-necked bottle of opaque black glass, followed by a scraping from the cup the count had drunk his ‘cordial’ from.

\t“I’ve already got a suspicion about what you brought me,” the old mare noted as she corked the bottle and shook it thoroughly, “but I want to be sure... and I also want to judge its strength if I’m right.  The exact dosage will play an important part in just what you may need to do about the rest of what I tell you.”

\tThe countess nodded, her expression grim, “I didn’t expect any good news when I came here, and that sort of warning isn’t leading me toward optimism now.”

\tThe healer snorted, “Good.  I hate giving bad news to any client, your Highness, but I dislike shattering happy fantasies even more.”  Setting the bottle down, she removed the cork and dipped a hollow glass tube in, a finger at its tip flicking as she carefully extracted a precise amount of the still-clear fluid, then quickly added it to the last of her prepared liquids.  That tiny glass’ contents were already taking on a magenta hue, and she held it up near her work-table’s lantern as she watched closely, then breathed a sigh of relief as the color started to fade back to transparency.  “I guess I do have a bit of good news,” she mused as she set about pouring the various compounds she’d been working with down her sink’s drain.  “This is definitely drudgewort extract, a substance sometimes used as a recreational drug in the lower classes, but even they are usually too smart to mess with it.  It produces a mild sense of euphoria, but at the cost of dulling the higher mental processes even more than strong liquor.  Both of those effects, I should note, are practically independent of dosage, which is why it’s one of the cheapest ‘highs’ to be found, but each individual plant can vary greatly in its concentration of the active substance.  The only two ways to avoid an overdose are to extract each plant separately and test its potency afterward, or to prepare such a large batch at once that any differences will be averaged out, though there’s still a bit of uncertainty involved in the latter technique.  Whether by luck or skill, in any case, whoever made this batch kept it mild, if it’s indeed taken in single-shot doses as you’ve described.”

\tNodding, her guest asked, “And what would the higher dose’s effects be?”

\tThis fetched a shrug in reply, “No change in the actual effects, as I said, but in large doses it has the side-effect of being almost instantly addictive, with exceptionally painful withdrawal symptoms.  If whoever this was given to had that overdose, they’d need to take at least a little each day or they’d be suffering constant migraines within a week.”

\tVerona frowned again, “And how long would this addiction last?  Let’s assume for the moment that my—that the victim was indeed given a higher dose, and has maintained a daily regimen of the lower one ever since... for how long would they be addicted and not know it?”

\tThe mare shrugged again, “Too long.  Six months, a year, before the residue of that overdose was worked out of their system...”  She blinked at the clear relief on her client’s face, “Someone... someone in the upper class, I’m assuming, has been on drudgewort for that long?”

\tThe countess nodded, her muzzle tautly grim once more, “Yes... but the person responsible, who may have given him the occasional higher dose as a possible form of leverage... has been dead for two years.  Count Bromirin has kept taking his ‘calming cordial’ daily since, but I’m very relieved to know that he can stop without ill effect.”

\t“The count?!?”  The healer shook her head emphatically, “He has to stop!  This is way above my head, your Highness, but even I can see some of the effects this must have had!  He was so vigorous and full of ideas, Bromirin was, and it was starting to look like we were in for one of the brighter spots in Stonecliff’s history... until he married Hypalia.  I was hardly privy to the highest councils, then or ever, but I could see one distinct change, here at the very bottom, and that’s that my business started getting steadily better within half a year of their union.  When I’m the only medical assistance more and more people can afford, I really start to worry.”

\tVerona nodded as she stood, her grim look fading to fierceness, “I share your concerns, and you have my solemn word I’ll do something about them.  You also have my extremely profound thanks, and I’ll also be thanking the servant who sent me to you; the castle’s official healer probably wouldn’t have even known about a ‘peasant drug’ like drudgewort, much less how to test the strength of that cordial.”  Reaching into the handbag she’d carried (mainly for the knife it concealed, given the neighborhood she was visiting and despite having dragged along a castle guard), she extracted a small coinpurse... then shrugged and emptied it on the table.  She’d brought no copper or brass at all, and very little silver, so she couldn’t help but smile as the healer’s eyes widened at the sight of more gold than she’d probably seen in her long life.  “This is scant repayment for the favor your skill has done for the entire county,” she mused, “but, please, take it.  Use it to help others as you’ve helped your very liege this day, but also find some way to treat yourself for a job well done.”

\tThe healer tore her gaze away from the money and looked into her guest’s eyes for a long moment... then nodded, “I shall.  Thank you, in any case; I may have provided you with ‘vital information,’ but only because you brought the evidence to my attention, and because you plan to do something with it.  I consider you more my countess, and more worthy of loyalty, than I ever did Hypalia, for the simple fact that you care about the problems you see, and are trying to do something about them.”

\tHer countess shrugged with an odd half-smile as she moved toward the shop’s rickety door, musing, “I wasn’t much of a baroness, since I spent almost all my time slutting around the king’s court... but I couldn’t have slept with all those nobles, retainers, servants, and common citizens without caring for each and every one of them at least a little.  To let that many people get so close to me... my libido couldn’t have been the only thing at issue.  They’d have known, and all but the most sex-addicted would have abandoned me eventually... if not for my heart.”  Sighing, then, she shook off the rest of this rare bout of maudlin introspection, and stepped out to rejoin the waiting guard for her trip back to the castle.

* * *

\tBromirin nodded to the hallway guard as he passed, then stopped at the guest room’s door and knocked.  He’d been a bit surprised to find his usual breakfast tray bare save for a note of invitation, though he thought he’d figured out just how it had gotten there.  In the last couple weeks, the countess had slept with far more servants than merchants or what passed for courtiers in his county.  At the bottom of the heap of nobility as he was, those lingering around his throne room rarely had more than wealth to separate them from the rest of the rabble when all was said and done.  Oh, sure, there were a few knights, and he was proud that the elder of his two sons was among them, but it was just one more sign of his holding’s relative unimportance that he couldn’t boast even an earl’s cousin as a regular guest.  The castle’s staff, in any case, was obviously taken with the countess for reasons unrelated to her title.  He liked her himself, of course, but that couldn’t keep him from feeling just a bit put out that they’d conspired with her to relocate his dining spot without even consulting him on the matter.

\t“Come in!” that welcoming voice called through the door, and he tucked his decanter of cordial a bit more comfortably into his elbow as he opened it and stepped into the room.

\tClosing the door, he looked toward the table and smiled, bowing shallowly while he was at it, “Ah, good...  I know my previous visit was rather unexpected, but it’s nice to see that we’re both at least dressed, this time.”

\tVerona nodded, smiling faintly, “I know...  That was something I wanted to make up for too, as I hardly look my best in that nightgown, but I was too busy running around to see to it immediately.  You’d have found that note on your tray yesterday, if I’d had the time.”

\tSetting the decanter on the room’s small sideboard, he sat in the free chair across the covered dishes from her and frowned slightly, “I’d heard of that... but I must confess that it was a rather confusing report.  According to the captain of my guard, you visited two different herbalists, one of them rather... shabby, and that pair of retired professors who we laughingly call the University of Stonecliff.  Given what we discussed two days ago, regarding my wife, I can’t help but be at least a little concerned over that itinerary, for its contrast to your work on the great refurbishment project as much as the more recent associations.”

\tThe chuckle this fetched, had he known it, was as much a calculated element of polite conversation as it was a sign of genuine and pleased amusement.  He was much brighter in thought and personality in the mornings...  Still determined to keep his mood as light as she could before bringing up a subject that would upset him, she took the points he’d raised in a somewhat twisted order.  “The second herbalist I visited,” she mused with just a hint of self-deprecatory airiness, “had far more to do with the time of year than any aspect of my visit here...  You see, I’m on the very brink of my cycle, and if I hadn’t brewed a tea from those herbs last night, you’d already be able to smell it, and I’d also be a bit more... twitchy, just sitting here.  Shopping trips aside, I’ll be absenting myself from your court for another week or so, as I can’t risk being near the lions there, and I’m afraid the friends I’ve made among the local ladies will have to be disappointed, too.  I’ll need strictly male companionship, of incompatible species’, despite the best the herbs can do to ease my overall discomfort.”

\tThe count nodded, “Ah...  That, at least, I understand, and it’s a point you share in common with Hypalia.  Other than when she did her duty to bear my heirs, her own times of fertility were ones of strange-smelling teas and seclusion.”

\tVerona nodded back, but let the hints of lechery and amusement slide from her expression, and her tone was much more formal as she went on, “The first trip to a healer, though, and the trip to the ‘university’ to look something up in their library, my Lord, I’m almost sure you won’t enjoy hearing about, but it’s no less than my duty to inform you of.”  She pointed at the decanter he’d set aside, “It’s about that, your ‘cordial.’  I found out what’s in it, and had one of the professors’ students copy the relevant portion of a book on herbs for your perusal... and it was not for your best interests that your wife made it for you.”

\tThe tiger’s brown eyes narrowed as the deepest frown she’d yet seen on him soured his muzzle, but he was clearly thinking about what she’d said, too.  “On the surface,” he mused, his own tone less conversational than usual, “this would seem to be another swipe at Hypalia for no more reason than your understandable hatred for her... but I can’t see any possible point.  She was proven guilty, and executed; you could gain nothing at this late date from sullying her image save for a husband’s ire, and that could sabotage the project to which your own son has already contributed more than a hundred pounds of gold.  The research you’ve done, and your mention of duty, these also work against the obvious theory.  Your entertainments may be frivolous, but your behavior in your role as countess has never been less than professional.  As much as I may dislike hearing Hypalia’s name besmirched yet again, I must ask you to elaborate on what you’ve already said.”

\t“Milord,” she replied, “that ‘cordial’s’ main ingredient is something called drudgewort, an herb that gets its name for its medicinal effects, yet in two different ways.  In one, it is a drug used by the lowest of the low, drudges and the like, who cannot conveniently afford even alcohol to ‘help’ their dreary lives, as it can make one feel good in much the same way, if not to the same degree.  In the other sense, it makes one like a drudge, as it’s even worse than liquor in its effect on higher thought.  Right now, this morning, when you haven’t had any, you’re thoughtful and intelligent.  You were just as mentally stimulating two days ago, when we started discussing the plans you’d brought... but you took your cordial with breakfast, and gradually became bored with the entire topic that had had you so excited when you first burst into this room.  The herbalist who identified the drug for me also tested your cordial’s potency... and, to my vast relief, found that it held no danger except for its immediate effects.  Beyond my own words, and beyond the documentation I’ll be passing on to you, I ask... no, I beg you, go for just one day without it, look out on your court with a clear mind, and then decide whether I’m right or just a hateful, vengeful widow getting one last useless lick in at a foe already dead.”

\tHe didn’t consciously realize it, but the reason that her final words made Bromirin even angrier than her initial accusation was from distaste at a beautiful, respected woman needing to beg for anything at all, and he stood quickly enough to knock over the chair he’d been using.  His eyes closed for a moment as he throttled that surge of rage; he could contemplate its causes later, but for the moment knew he had to deal with the issues at hand, temper or no.  Once he was sure he could control his voice, he asked in a tone of deadly calm, “Where is this ‘documentation?’”

\tWordlessly, the countess pointed to a small stack of parchment sitting on the linen chest to one side of the door.

\tNodding curtly, her lord stepped over his fallen chair and scooped the pages up.  “I will do as you suggest,” he said, still facing the wall as a matter of prudence while his emotions were so uncertain, “and leave the bottle I brought here...  I can get more, easily enough, as my wife had barrels of the stuff made up in advance, and it keeps well.  Today, though, I will determine just which of you was right...  Whether this day holds the clarity and depth of thought you promise, or simply the temper she feared... we shall have to see.”

\tAs the door closed, Verona closed her eyes, a tear escaping from each to trickle down her cheeks... but they were as much of joy as of pain.  Even in a near-rage, the count had been more this morning than the calmly bemused fashion addict she’d first met; more intelligent, more vibrant, and more a man... and she found herself thinking silent, fervent prayers to Kathalla on his behalf, though she dared not speak them, knowing that the entire situation was one for mortals alone to deal with.

Chapter 5

\tAfter a breakfast that was lonelier than she’d planned for, a pair of lapine brothers stopped by to drop off reports on the stone-cutting that was just getting started at the quarries they managed... and sandwich her between them on the bed for half an hour’s enjoyable pounding.  She studied those reports, and was satisfied with them, in the interval until lunch was delivered, and made another dose of her comforting tea at the same time.  It was a useful blend, all but eliminating the nigh-perpetual lubrication she produced, with its more pungent scent than usual, when in heat, and it reduced the physical sensitivity of her swollen mound, but it was less effective at putting out the fires in her thoughts, so she was still annoyingly horny.  Luckily, the medicine could only handle her ‘casual’ symptoms, to make it comfortable to sit while she was reading or doing other work to distract her mind from its own, more feral portions; it was far less efficacious under conditions of active stimulation, so she didn’t need to worry about being too dry when she told the liveried young stallion who’d collected her lunch dishes to come back immediately and help justify changing her bedsheets once again.

\tThat linen chest by the door was emptying a bit more rapidly than she was comfortable with...  Sure, the colt had promised to have someone bring a complete refill right after supper, but this was still only the first day of her season.  Tea or no, her symptoms would only get worse, so she spent a bit of late afternoon raiding the supply of towels in her room’s private bathing chamber, positioning small piles of absorbent cloth at strategic points around the bedroom itself.  That, unfortunately, delayed her next cup of tea just a bit longer than planned, so she was squirming a bit when she sat down, a folded washcloth between her thighs, to sip medicine with one hand while reconciling the expenditures portion of her quarry reports against her proposed project budget with the other.

\tExperience with her own biology had taught Verona a balancing act of sorts, between what her body wanted and what it actually needed.  If she had as much sex as her inflamed libido demanded, she’d be a mental and physical wreck before the week was half done.  Instead, she interspersed the fulfillment of those demands with periods where she’d just have to endure, never terribly long, in which she ate to restore her spent energy, drank more than tea to compensate for the fluids she tended to leak in play, and, at least once a day, bathe to keep those same fluids from leaving her too smelly for even a horny peasant’s comfort.  Lapses in hygiene could also result in infection, she knew.  Better to ‘waste’ an hour or two in the evening that could be spent beating back her libidinous flames than to leave even one helpful male wondering why the dick he’d stuck into her suddenly itched so badly.

\tThe lioness blinked out of those thoughts, amusing despite their seriousness, as a quiet knock came at her door.  Tossing back the last gulp of her tea, she extracted the cloth from between her legs and straightened her lounging robe before moving to see who was there.  Said robe was only marginally more modest than the one she’d worn in Marblefield, as she wasn’t planning to go anywhere; it was still too early for her next lover, though, so as a matter of principle she made sure its satin sash was firmly tied.  That turned out to be a good piece of foresight on her part, she noted, when her visitor was revealed to be a page in the count’s livery, not quite into his teens, and she couldn’t help but chuckle at the too-large plate codpiece that had been buckled on over his uniform as an improvised chastity belt.

\tThe young feline coughed and blushed as he eyed the faint translucency of her robe and the obvious raised points of her nipples, but recovered quickly enough.  “His Highness, C-Count Bromirin of Stonecliff graciously requests the presence of your Highness, C-Countess, and b-begs your companionship for s-supper in his p-p-private suite.  He asks that you d-d-dress as befits y-your station, my L-Lady.”

\tWell, that was certainly an interesting change, after their less than cordial parting that very morning.  Carefully schooling her features to hide both her wonder and her continued amusement over the lad’s discomfort, the countess nodded solemnly, “I can be ready to join our Lord in ten minutes, but I haven’t been to his quarters before.  Could you wait out here and guide me once I’m dressed?”

\tThe child swallowed visibly and gave a jerky nod, “Yes, m-my Lady; I’ll be right out here.”

\tAs soon as she’d closed the door, she untied her sash and tossed the robe onto her bed.  The highest-necked of her gowns, a pair of slippers, and her tiara...  Verona moved quickly and surely as she gathered what she needed, but before donning any of it there was one, more important issue to take care of.  She had to dig around in the room’s drawers to find the one set of underthings she’d brought, as she wore them so rarely, but that comment about dressing for her station suggested that this was the night for them.  A few moments with a pair of scissors and one of her spare sashes gave her something to line her underdrawers with, several layers of satin that would absorb anything objectionable if her medicine wore off early, but the soft, fine fabric was also needed for its lack of friction, to keep the very act of walking from proving uncomfortably stimulating.

\tShe took another few minutes to run a brush through the fur of her arms and head, both the most visible parts of her body and the least likely to accidentally titillate too intensely with the bristles, then quickly dressed and set her filigree crown on her head.  She may have overrun her estimate by just a minute or two, but the page was still waiting patiently when she finally stepped out of her room.  “Our Lord awaits,” she murmured, gesturing for him to lead the way.

* * *

\tThere were two guards waiting at the door she was led to, somewhat more ornate than her own, but neither they nor her guide seemed interested in following her inside.  The younger cat had already scampered off when one of the soldiers simply knocked twice on the carved wood and waved her toward its latch.

\tBemusement overrode the vague worries she’d nurtured during the walk through the castle, now, since, if the tiger’s temper had left him inclined toward punishment, there’d be no reason for his official representatives to be this casual about it.  It was, after all, his castle, and she certainly hadn’t secured the affections of enough of his guard force to make clapping her in irons and throwing her into the dungeon even slightly difficult.  As she finally turned the latch and stepped into the suite, though, her eyes widened.  She certainly hadn’t been expecting this!

\tThe sitting room of the suite was softly lit by roughly two dozen long, slender candles spaced evenly about its periphery.  She could make out very little of its presumably-fine furnishings, save for the small table in the middle that boasted two more candles of its own.  Reflections of those tiny flames flickered in the shine of two wine glasses and the engraved cover of a platter, and gleamed on the silver jewelry of the velvet-clad count as he rose from his comfortable chair.  “Your Highness,” he rumbled amiably, with only a hint of formal stiffness, “thank you for accepting my invitation, this eve.”

\tClosing the door behind her helped; the absence of the hallway’s brighter light let her eyes adjust, and she couldn’t help but smile at the almost hopeful expression on her host’s features as she drew nearer.  “That invitation was... unexpected,” she admitted as she reached to accept his offered hand, allowing him to guide her to the table’s other chair in proper, courtly fashion, “but, at a minimum, it was bound to prove more positive than the terms of our last... parting, so what could I do but accept?”

\tBromirin nodded as he returned to his own seat, plucking a snowy-white napkin from the table and spreading it in his lap.  “That invitation, I should note, was simply to further enhance this meal,” he rumbled conversationally, “which is, itself, a celebration.  On one level, I suppose I don’t have much to celebrate, as my view of my holding’s situation is now quite a bit uglier than it’s been in several years... but that’s only because I’m seeing it clearly for the first time since I married my—that is, the old countess.”  Brown eyes held those of gold across the table, candlelight flickering in each, and his guest nodded almost against her will as she accepted the implications of his change in phrasing.  “What’s worth celebrating is that I see things at last,” he continued, “and, now that I do, I can set about fixing them.  I had a long and fascinating conversation with Hareel this morning, only slightly marred by indigestion since I’d snatched a too-quick breakfast after storming out on you so precipitously, once he realized that I actually wanted to discuss something more serious than fashion or idle gossip.  Or,” he added with a wry half-smirk, “that I was capable of such a discussion... and, for that capability, I have you alone to thank.”

\tEven in the dim light, the countess was obviously blushing despite her deliberately-casual tone as she replied, “I might beg to differ, by pointing out the help of one poverty-stricken herbalist and two ancient professors... but then, of course, you’d counter with the detail that I’m the one who instigated and coordinated their contributions, and you’d be right.  By the way, I’ve already done something about that healer’s finances.  Most of it will end up helping her equally-poor neighborhood, but I’m hoping she does at least one good thing for herself with the money.  She deserves it.”

\t“I agree,” the tiger nodded, a hint of deliberation audible in his voice, too.  Given the countess’ reputation, well confirmed by her romps through his court and the castle’s staff, that blush had been something he’d never expected to see, and he considered himself fortunate to have done so.  Special.  As if the world had decided to share a tiny, wonderful secret with him alone.  Shaking off that hint of introspection, he reached for the cover of the tray and lifted it, his eyes half-closing as the delectable scents of a well-seasoned roast, already sliced, and two bowls of equally-tasty egg drop soup wafted out on a puff of steam.  “My—the old countess tended to avoid wine for some reason, during her cycle,” he noted as he set the lid aside and reached for the waiting bottle, its cork only lightly inserted, “but I haven’t noticed that tendency in any other ladies of my court.  There’s water on the sideboard if you want it, otherwise help yourself as you see fit.”

\tVerona nodded as she lifted the nearer bowl of soup onto the saucer at her setting, “That, I think, was more a personal decision on her part than anything... physiological.  I certainly don’t mind a good vintage in my present condition, though I do have to take a bit more care about getting drunk, if only to preserve my good judgment regarding just whom it’s safe to sleep with.”

\tThis fetched a chuckling nod as she unfolded her own napkin, “I must admit a certain lack of surprise where that’s concerned...  You have, since you’ve arrived, shown nothing less than praiseworthy judgment and intelligence in everything you’ve set your mind to, and this should be no different.”  Figuring that he’d embarrassed her enough for the moment, he half-rose from his seat to serve her two thick slices of the roast, then helped himself to the same as she took the availability of the bottle as a chance to pour wine into her own glass.

\tThe felines ate, then, in companionable silence, broken only by the clink of silverware against plates and bowls and the occasional faint hiss as one of the candles burned through an impurity in their honey-scented wax.  As simple as it was compared to the multiple courses served to the gathered court, the meal was a carnivore’s treat, both the roast and soup little more than protein and flavor, the former plentiful and the latter exquisite.  The wine was surprisingly good, too; either the count or one of his chefs had a fine eye for vintages.  The morning’s confrontation, the worry and anticipation leading up to it, and the general added annoyance of heat, between them, had resulted in more stress than her two lays that day could relieve by themselves, and the countess blessed the relaxation to be found in that bottle even as she savored its fine aroma and the subtleties of its taste.  

\tThe soup bowls empty, the roast reduced to a few stray scraps, and only the sip or two still in the glasses left of the wine, Verona leaned back in her chair and stretched, the motion pleasure enough to put a hint of purr into her voice as she mused, “Did you know, I’m actually glad you were being drugged into insensibility...”

\tThe count blinked, frowning, “Excuse me?  How can years of misrule and an economy on the brink of collapse possibly be a good thing... unless the few positive points of your visit have all been an act, and you’re still bent on revenge?”

\tWhite teeth gleamed in the light as the lioness grinned, “I actually have an answer to that.  Two, even.”  She picked up her glass again and leaned back, cradling it in her hands, “On the practical level, it means less work for me.  When I came to your court and found an apparent simpleton on the throne, I thought I’d have to do all the work to set things right.  Short of killing you and hoping Sir Charad was more competent, or just washing my hands of the situation and moving back in with my son, my only real option was to let you keep warming that fancy chair while I set about dragging a county I owed nothing to out of the gutter by the scruff of its collective neck.”

\tBromirin blinked again, then snorted, “That’s certainly an interesting way to phrase your options, if hardly complimentary...  Still, ‘forthright’ as your deductions may be, I suppose I can’t really disagree with any of them.  So, what’s your other answer?”

\t“The other bit of pleasantness in how things turned out to actually be,” she chuckled back, “is more... personal.  You’re not a simpleton, as it turns out.  The two mornings I got to meet you, out from under the shadow of drudgewort, were... stimulating.  I got to meet a fine mind, in the head of a fine man, and that alone made everything I’ve done since arriving worthwhile.”

\tThe tiger’s varicolored features softened as she spoke, and he nodded almost involuntarily as she finished.  His scowl replaced by an almost shy smile, he breathed a quiet chuckle of his own and mused, “I suppose you could just be right, seeing it that way...  Almost twenty years ago, while my relationship with Hypalia was still just a gleam in my father’s advisers’ eyes, I liked to think that I’d been doing a pretty decent job as count.  The orders for stone were coming in regularly, most of my citizens were well-fed and content... then, as was my duty to the succession, I wed.”  A faint frown crept back onto his muzzle as he leaned back, his eyes distant, “I still have trouble remembering just where things went sour...  I know my wife and I argued, but most of the specifics escaped me; finances, at least, I’m pretty sure were one of our major points of disagreement.  She seemed to have all sorts of ‘reasonable, logical’ ways to make more of the county’s collective wealth our own, but life in this castle could hardly be called living in squalor, so I didn’t see any point...”  He blinked twice, and looked back to his guest, “It was about that time that my father’s health took a turn for the worse.  He’d been enjoying a fairly vigorous retirement, but...”  Those eyes widened briefly, then shut tight, tears at their corners, “Oh, that bitch!”

\tVerona easily followed that train of thought, sympathy in her voice even if he couldn’t see her nod, “My husband obviously wasn’t the first noble she’d poisoned...  I know more than most ladies of my station, when it comes to herbs and their uses, but Hypalia was clearly much closer to expert.  Knowledge, as they say, is a form of power... and it’s clear that no form of power cannot lead to corruption or misuse.”

\tThe count shook his head as more tears dampened his cheeks, “The bandits my knighted son’s troop hunts... are nothing compared to the thievery of the woman who was supposed to love me.  She’s stolen two decades of my life, leaving me an idiot qualified for no more, as you put it, than keeping a too-fancy piece of furniture warm.  She’s stolen my dreams of being as good a count as my father, and my subjects’ faith in me.  And now I realize that she stole him from me, too!  The man I looked up to, the man I loved for his strength and wisdom, and who might still be alive today if not for her.  The policies she put in place, once she’d drugged me, took more wealth into her and my hands, but at the price of our county’s reputation, its prosperity and strength...  The rest of the kingdom doesn’t trust us, and my people rightly blame me for it, as the one who stood idly and ignorantly by while she looted their well-being and connived to steal still more from your prosperous barony, where she stole a precious life from you, too...”  Eyes opened to slits as he looked up, a nigh-infinite pain visible in their brown depths, “With so much stolen... what’s left?  Is it even worth trying to undo her evil?”

\t“I know about evil,” his guest all but whispered, “its colors, its flavors, its degrees... for I’m Kathallic, and many would call me evil, with cause.”  Those eyes opened briefly wider, his ears perking curiously forward, and she continued, “There will always be evil in the world, and in fact we need a certain degree of darkness, for without it we cannot recognize true good.  Even the Gods know this, and it’s why they tolerate my Goddess’ continued existence, and that of Her followers.  But there is more than just ‘my’ sort of evil...  Your—Hypalia’s wickedness is a different matter entirely, and has hurt a vast number of others all out of proportion to its gains, even those personally to her.  That is the sort of evil that we must fight against, to stop while it’s still in motion or to correct and compensate for once it has come to pass.  And that’s the first of the many things you have left if you’d only see them: your sense of responsibility to undo what has been done.  The herbalist who helped cure your drug-induced blindness to these problems, even she saw the effects we’ll need to counter; the growing slums, the falling prosperity of your working-class citizens... and now you see it too.  As a second point, you have the wealth and power of your title; simply giving people money at random won’t do a thing in the long term, but judicious use of money combined with a wise ruler’s guidance can do much.  It may take months to begin, and it will take years to finish, but your holding and people can once again prosper, with your help.  And, third and finally,” and it was her turn to dip her gaze low, “you have... me.  You have my respect for the man you were and could be again, and I have the respect and admiration of many of those whose aid we’ll require in the coming days.  I did not know, when I stepped into your throne room, just what sort of man I’d find... but who I found was one who’s lost even more than I to that bitch’s schemes, and I’m more than willing to help him take... it... all... back.”  One corner of her muzzle quirked up, “Well, as much as can come back...  I’ll never see my husband again, nor you your father, and the loving marriage you thought to have was ever an illusion, hiding raw ambition.  Everything else, though, we, together, can restore.”

\tBromirin had managed to start smiling again over the course of her various points, and the pain in his eyes was replaced with firmness and resolve.  A hint of a warmer emotion crept into their gleam as well, as he nodded and mused, “You make many good points, but you’ve also brought one more to my mind, one that I’d never have dreamed of bringing up otherwise.”

\tThe other corner of Verona’s muzzle twitched up to match the first, and she tilted her head to one side, “Oh?  That... sounds like it could be ominous, but your tone suggests something... different.”

\tThe tiger grinned faintly in a near-mirror of her expression, “Oh, I’ll have to agree with that, too...  Anyway, what came to mind was one thing each of us has lost that isn’t as irreplaceable as you thought.  You see, you respect me, and I respect you, neither of us hates the other over what’s happened in the past, and I’m very grateful for all you’ve done, these last weeks, this very day, and right this moment.  The only thing I need to add to that list is that you’re still in heat, and you need someone who’s not a lion to keep you company tonight.  Hypalia... wasn’t much for sex.  We were married through seventeen of her own seasons, yet we made... no, I won’t call it love at this point.  We mated all of four times; our traditional wedding night, as was her duty, and immediately prior to the birth of my two sons with one miscarried pregnancy in between.  Given how she doted on those boys, I suspect a bias and her herbs combined for that last case, so that I could possibly add the murder of my unborn daughter to her list of crimes.  That ‘miscarriage’ is, at the least... suspect.  Still, for those times, even in her heat and my drugged stupor I could tell she wasn’t particularly enjoying herself.  I have to suspect as well, now, the additional concoction she had me drink each time after our first; I didn’t enjoy things very well either, and they were over far faster than when I’d simply fooled around with sluts and slaves before my marriage.”

\tThe countess grimaced at him across the half-consumed candles, “I think I know what she gave you, since it’s something I’ve prescribed myself to some of my more elderly lovers...  Tell me, was it a syrup-like fluid that was mostly green with a hint of orange?”  At his surprised blink and nod, she nodded right back, more firmly, “That was an herb I’m not sure of the name for, but it can increase sexual sensitivity in either gender.  I used it sparingly for men whose... ‘equipment’ had trouble registering enough stimulation to perform, but even a bit too much of it adds the side-effect of a sharp reduction in the intensity of any climaxes one might otherwise enjoy.”

\tHe nodded in return one more time, “That certainly fits with what I remember, and since each time was late at night, I’m guessing that my daily dose of drudgewort was wearing off at the time, which is why I remember it at all...  You, though, probably won’t share Hypalia’s complaints that I was too big, too spiny, and took too damned long to finish.  So, if you think we’re on good enough terms that my offer can compete with whichever servant or courtier you’d planned to have see to your needs tonight...”

\tHis description of those ‘complaints’ had already brought a new light to the lioness’ eyes and a faintly-audible purr to her breath, and she wasted no time at all in nodding in emphatic agreement, “Oh, by all means!  In fact, if you still have any of the drug your frigid ex made you take, just a tiny sip can help reduce the wait if you want to ‘see to my needs’ more than once!  I may not be able to have a lion, but tigers are physically close enough to resonate with my body’s expectations of what a man should feel like, and this should be even more satisfying than the young wolf I’d been planning to contact after dinner.”  She picked her napkin out of her lap and gave her hands a good wiping, then dropped it onto her plate and stood, “My Lord, I would be... honored to share your bed tonight.  The king may have forbidden you to remarry, and our titles may be legally separate, but nowhere do they prohibit me from pretending to be your wife, and a far more loving example thereof, tonight.”

\tChuckling, Bromirin stood as well, offering his hand.  A satisfied smile brightened his muzzle when she took it, and he gently led her through the candlelit room toward his bedchamber.

Epilogue

\tWaking, slowly and luxuriantly, in a bed she’d never been in before was hardly a new experience for Verona.  Though Stonecliff Mountain would keep the city in partial shadow until noon, the clever reflectors on nearby peaks, whole rock faces carved flat then polished to a high shine, meant that at least a bit of the morning sun made it through the room’s skylight, and for several long moments she savored that glow as much as the gentle grip of the striped arm that held her bare body gently beneath the sheets.  The count had proven to be, by any measure she could think of, the most satisfying lover she’d taken in the holding, and that was just the first time.  With the help of judicious sips of his old wife’s potion, once she’d given the flask a sniff to be sure of its contents and potency, he’d proven it quite handily a second time... and a third, and a fourth.  She couldn’t really fault the dead woman for calling him ‘too big,’ as he really was nearly as well hung as her good friend Sir Ferrl, and had a big cat’s spines as well to ring that prodigious girth.  Anyone without her degree of... ‘experience,’ she wryly labeled to herself, would indeed have found him an uncomfortable lover, or even painful, and his endurance would only make such an ordeal even worse.  For herself, though, she’d found the combination delightful.

\tThe memories of the previous night, naturally enough, started rousing a renewed warmth between her thighs... but that very event cut off her train of thought with brutal suddenness.  She should have woken inflamed, in her condition!  There shouldn’t have been time or freedom of thought to enjoy the rising sun or fond memories; she should have been jolted from highly-erotic dreams by a nigh-unbearable itch in her depths and begged immediately to be filled with something long enough to scratch it.  There was only one reason that itch could be absent, and she murmured under her breath with equal parts joy and dread, “Kathalla... am I pregnant?”

\tThe initial ‘reply’ her terse prayer received was a faint tingling sensation in her lower belly, which faded even as a silent, grating voice spoke in her soul, *Yes, though the recriminations forming in your thoughts as we speak aren’t as justified as you think.  You’ve had a lot on your mind, of late, and even I cannot fault your recent efforts, despite it being nearly two months since you’ve dedicated more than simple pleasures to Me.  Even if you’d kept the knowledge of the pertinent details foremost, though, fertility between lions and tigers is problematic enough that last night’s play might have been safe regardless, as not even you could know, beforehand, that the counterpart to your title would prove so virile and vigorous.*

\tDespite a direct, divine mandate not to blame herself, the lioness couldn’t help but groan softly before asking, “Still, there are some serious issues involved with crossbreeds between our species’.  I care not of the repercussions to myself or my lover, right this moment; what of our child?  Will they suffer as a result of my lapse?”

\t*Were you the tigress and he the lion,* her Goddess replied, *that may be, as the resulting liger would have what others would term a growth disorder and, regardless of gender, might end up eight feet tall and weighing four hundred pounds without fat.  Tigons, such as the one now growing in your womb, are a bit luckier...  Males of this specific crossbreeding tend to be infertile... but your daughter will suffer no such liability, and may freely mate with tigers, lions, or even the occasional very lucky panther and still produce young.*

\tVerona nodded to the morning air, “Thank you, my Goddess...  I am indeed comforted, and in gratitude as much as duty I’ll try to correct the minor failing You’d made the point of bringing to my attention.”

\tThere was a sense of agreement and satisfaction from Kathalla, but no further reply.  Quiet as the consultation had been, though, it had proven to be enough to start rousing the body beside her, his arm’s grip tightening briefly before his eyes opened and he asked, “Mmm... were you talking to someone, my Lady?”

\tHalf-rolling toward him, so his arm settled naturally into a loose hug, the countess nodded into his shoulder, “Mm-hmm...  I was just praying.  I don’t often need Kathalla’s aid or advice, but... this morning surprised me, and I needed just a little more information before either of us could decide what to do about it.”  He half pulled away, blinking in obvious confusion, so she told him softly and simply, “I’m pregnant by you, and it’s going to be a girl, who won’t have any of the ailments that sometimes afflict halfbreeds.”

\tBromirin’s arms around her stiffened for an instant in surprise, then pulled her even closer with gently-furious strength.  His voice was deep and husky as he murmured back, “Please say you’re keeping her...  All I can recall of my sons, though I’ve been in a haze all their lives, fills me with pride... but I would very much like a daughter, too.  I’d also like you to stay here, with me, and with her.  I am... very attracted to you, and it is only the newness of clear thought that keeps me from immediately proclaiming love, instead.”

\t“Since Kathalla says she’ll be healthy and fertile,” the lioness rumbled back, “I have no intention of losing this child... and, yes, I feel too that the admiration we share can deepen into love if we give it just a little more time.  I was Countess Stonecliff by the king’s decree... but now I’m willing to be your countess, not just the county’s, in truth as well.  I cannot promise monogamy, of course,” and she pulled half-free of his grip to give him a wry smile, “but since we can’t legally marry in the first place, that’s not the political issue it could be.  Still... you were the most satisfying lover I’ve had in years, so I’ll almost certainly restrict my usual ‘entertainments’ to daytime.  I would be pleased and honored to return here, to your bed, every night.”

\tThe count pulled her back into a close hug, her breasts pressing into his well-muscled chest, “I think that’s a fair arrangement all around, and certainly one I’ll enjoy...  You, alone, were making a very good start on dragging my holding back toward prosperity.  I think that, together, we’ll do even better at it, and the end result will be even more rewarding.  A joy shared is doubled, as the old saying goes.”

\tVerona nodded then took a moment to press a kiss into his throat.  “Also,” she murmured, “there’s just one more thing I need to ask of you...  It’s something of a religious obligation, and nothing less than payment of our fair debt to Kathalla for easing the mystery and potential worries surrounding our child...  Now that you’re functional as the county’s chief magistrate again, any capital crimes will fall under your domain.  I ask only for the additional title of Stonecliff’s executioner, so I can sacrifice more than mere pleasure to my Goddess.”

\tShe could feel his jaw muscles tighten as he nodded, but there was no distaste in his voice when he replied, “It can be hard to find anyone willing to do that job anyway; if you’re volunteering, I suppose I can only accept.”  The ‘nice’ tiger she’d first met on the throne would have balked at the mere notion of killing anyone, in her estimation; his agreement was one more sign that the title of Count of Stonecliff was no longer the hollow straw doll it had once been.

\tCountess Stonecliff nodded once more as she wormed her way up to plant a brief, fiery kiss on her new partner’s lips, then looked into his eyes and smiled, “And thus we’ve taken back one more thing that bitch stole... my husband.  I still miss Hellar, but I do not doubt for a moment that he’d like the man you turned out to be.”  The attraction and affection he’d spoken of, and then some, were visible in his eyes as he nodded back, and she kissed him one last time before slipping from his grasp and out from under the sheets, “We’ve got work to do this morning, and if I spend another minute pressed up against your naked body, we wouldn’t get started ‘til lunch.  Let’s invite your sons to breakfast, for now, as they deserve to hear the news first, then we can break it to the rest of our people at morning court.”

\t“My Lady is as wise as she is beautiful, on all three counts,” Bromirin agreed with a faint chuckle, rising as well to greet the first day of a better-looking life than he’d ever hoped to have.

The End

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