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Lady Sting

By: Flowsnake



The hall was lit by subdued gaslights which accentuated its splendor. Adults huddled in pockets of conversation, casting furtive glances at one another. Regeneria was alone at the high table. She tried to act composed, though she could not help but giggle at the antics of Ruffino and the other children who were making faces at her from below. 

Her father broke away from one of the groups, smirking in satisfaction. Regeneria's mirth died. He was followed by a corpulent man with small eyes. Behind him trailed a listless teen with damp hair. The trio moved towards her, brimming with visions of riches and power. 

"Regeneria, meet Prince Oleph Von Bruen. We hope to form a lasting kinship with his kingdom, which shall serve both our people."

Recoiling inside, Regeneria heard herself speak through the blood buzzing in her ears. "A pleasure, Prince Oleph." Her father and the fat man had moved off to the side to continue their intrigue, while Oleph stammered pleasantries. Regeneria was keenly attuned to her father and King Von Bruen. When she overheard the word "marriage," her disgust coalesced into cold anger. She stood abruptly and strode down the steps of the dais into the hall. It took a moment for the confused crowd to stand, which caught the King's attention. 

"Regeneria!" he barked sharply at her back. But she broke into a run, slipping past puzzled guards and finding her way onto the flagstones of the front portico. Here she paused for a second, allowing the humidity of the summer evening to warm her skin. Then a slight breeze carried the coolness of the forest to her along with sounds of cooing birds and creaking insects. She kicked off her shoes, vaunted the low wall, and rushed into the night. 

* * * * * 

White snow covered the land. Frozen spires of grass toppled under the hardened soles of her bare feet, rasping in protest as they fell. Regeneria was distinctly aware of the sound. At this hour the world was still, muffled. Every whisper resounded in her ears. She adjusted stride and the crunching of her footsteps faded, allowing Regeneria to focus on potential points of ambush. 

From here she could see the manor, lit against receding darkness by prancing gaslights. It was an imposing structure, half castle, half home, excelling at neither. At the time it was built, her family's rule had been absolute. Pleasing architectural indulgences -- windows, gardens, and the like -- compromised it as a fortress, yet were somehow more imposing through their confidence. In times of war the windows could be battened down, gardens razed. But her family chose to operate through politics and intrigue these days, and portrayed a welcoming face to the world.

Yet now the manor was astir. Though she trusted Ruffino's message that it was safe to return home, Regeneria also knew the depths of her father's desperation and cunning. A few dead men, a thousand, were worth the political advantage only she could provide. Her father would readily stage a few deaths to get Regeneria back. But if it was true that the king had been assassinated, time had run out. She had to return, no matter what fate awaited her, else risk the disintegration of her people and lose the foothold they'd worked so hard to carve out in Bohemia. So Regeneria continued her infiltration.

Soon a new color distinguished itself among the white snow and gray-green tufts of grass. She was upon the first of the dead men. The ground beneath his sprawled limbs was darkened by blood. Frost vacated a respectful circle around his cooling body while lifeless eyes stared skyward. Regeneria stepped over him.

His misfortune was her gain; the assassin's rope still dangled from a grappling hook in the wall. This breach allowed her to reach the servant's gatehouse without detection. Two guards were keenly at post, but Ruffino had thrown a rope ladder through a lower window. Regeneria flinched when she reached it, knowing that this was the point where she was most likely to be betrayed, or accidentally shot. Yet her course was set and she skittered up the ladder. 

Ruffino was waiting in the hallway. She noticed the rifle he held clumsily in his hands and felt gratitude, even as she noted how poorly situated he was to snipe at his own guardsmen below.

"Where is he?," she murmured in Ruffino's ear.

"The stable attic." She turned and strode down the hall. Ruffino spoke in hushed tones as they walked. "Most of the searchers are looking near the rill. He should be dead even now if not for chance. He turned back to get his cloak."

Regeneria absorbed this information briefly then changed topic. "Do you have it?"

Ruffino stopped and set down the rifle. He reached into his coat and withdrew a long leather case tucked in his waistband. She took the case from him with some trepidation, tracing the embossed wasp with her finger. They continued in haste. 

Regeneria was clad in the frock of a scullery maid and stared at the floor when they passed others, who were mostly scurrying about with masks of grim purpose on their faces. Between her demure stance and Ruffino's confident lead, they were soon out of the manor and walking towards the stable.

Several things happened at once. From the archway of the stable doors, backlit by radiant golden warmth, she saw Garrick the quartermaster emerge with a heavy rifle in his hands. Their eyes sparked in mutual recognition and he waved to some guards who took firing positions behind him. A manor guard at her back noticed her forest-stained bare feet and barked at her to halt. Regeneria broke into a sprint, dimly aware of Ruffino, who was explaining to the guard that they were going to the stable to get her some shoes. The Quartermaster joined Ruffino in yelling at the guard, who was now gesturing wildly to a very large, very angry, and heavily armed search party just coming back from the rill. 

The chaos bought Regeneria time enough to leap behind the stable doors, vaunt up the stairs to the hayloft, and grab the rope pull in the ceiling. Spiral stairs unfurled around an oiled brass post. She was up them in two hops and then peered among murky forms of hardwood chairs, canvas-draped shelves, and rows of tack. 

"Monrovius," she called, "your sister is here." 

It was not Monrovius who emerged, but Marquess Illona. Regeneria was grateful to see Illona but did not show it. Instead she turned her face into the light so that Illona could verify her return.

"Verflixt, Regeneria, but you are so changed."

Regeneria said nothing. Instead, she opened the case at her arm and withdrew the ceremonial throwing axe within it. Its long, gilded haft was ornately engraved. The slender head curved nearly into an S. Regeneria wondered if it could even cleave suede, or would fly true if thrown. The burnished leather grip terminated in a fob which housed a jeweled wasp suspended in amber glass. She stared at the weapon -- a scepter, really -- and finally nodded assent to Illona in response. 

"Monrovius, quickly!" Regeneria urged, but he was already emerging from the shadows, a calm sword held at the ready. He had been but four when she last saw him, and pride swelled in her at how he had grown. At ten Monrovius exhibited the grace and surety which Ruffino had told her about over the years.

The din from people below grew loud. Garrick shouted for everyone to calm down. The search party members were questioning him in tones of hysteria and sharp suspicion. The guards in the stable were cocking their rifles, which sent the party into a hissing of anger. Regeneria took a breath and then, in as imperious a tone as she could muster, shouted:

"Silence!"

A hush came over the crowd, which spread until angry chatter wafting from the manor was all that could be heard. Every eye was rooted to the spiral staircase as Marquess Illona descended regally, followed by dirty bare feet and the ragged hem of a scullery skirt. It was only when Regeneria emerged with the francisca in one hand and shielding Prince Monrovius behind the other that the murmur resumed. Some of the mob seemed outraged, some were relieved, but most were shocked into silence. The guards were equally confused; some looked ready to bound her by law and some were ready to drop to their knees. 

Regeneria stepped to the edge of the hayloft and peered into a sea of faces and torches. She raised the axe and sliced the air three times in the sign of a fleur-de-lis. She rang out in a sharp, clear tone.

"I am Regeneria, the Queen Regnant. Prince Monrovius is now my ward and I claim the throne in holding!"

* * *

Amid the ruckus that ensued, Garrick's loyalty saved her life. As she spoke, he was on his knees in fealty and the other guards followed suit. This sudden thinning of the crowd gave Regeneria's pincushioned perceptions room to breathe. When she glimpsed movement from a window, she shoved Illona and Monrovius to the floor and leaped from the hayloft. Darts whistled and twanged into the planked floor.

Guards went running through the servant's hall. Regeneria ran instead outside of the manor, tracking the second floor hallway. In a moment she reached Ruffino's rope ladder, still dangling from the window. For the second time that hour she went up, again fearing ambush at the top. She heard footfalls, timed their approach, then thrust the francisca through the window. It was nearly wrenched from her grasp as the assassin stumbled to the floor and slid headlong into the wall. Regeneria's left arm crashed into the window sill and her wrist twisted. She ignored the pain and clamored inside, pointing her axe at the still form on the floor. 

It was unnecessary; the woman was unconscious. Which was a boon, for the serpentine head of the francisca was crumpled and warped. Nevertheless Regeneria kept the point at her assailant's throat and pried the dart rifle from a surprisingly sure grip. Regeneria heard more footsteps and spun with the rifle in hand, ready to defend, but faced a cluster of guards. They were, presumably, friendly.

A man strode forth and pointed two fingers at the prone form in the hall. Two guards broke off and took position at either side, rifles ready. The captain pulled a pair of bracers from his belt and clad the wrists of the woman who was now moaning quietly. His movements were precise, practiced. He opened her frock and unbuckled a long sheath that hung in the lea of her breast. He slid his hand under one bra cup, then the second, then down each of her sides and her back before folding her frock over her chest. He lifted her skirt and birthed a pistol, another dagger, a few flights of darts, and a small vial. With some difficulty, he removed her boots. 

He beckoned to one of the remaining guards. "Your bracers. And see to her wound." The guard handed the captain his bracers and went to work on the assassin, ripping strips of cloth from her dress and using them to staunch her bleeding scalp. The captain also ripped a strip of cloth then approached Regeneria. He touched his knee briefly to the floor and then waited impatiently in mid rise for her to speak. When she did not ask him to rise he stood anyway, held out the bracers, and said "Your wrist, please, Highness." 

"Why?" The word was a lance of suspicion.

"It needs attention."

She followed his eye and saw an angry red welt along her forearm. It was indeed painful and she allowed him to wind cloth around it and clamp a bracer tight.

"Not broken."

"Who is she? Who does she serve?"

"I do not know, but we shall try to learn."

"Torture?"

"No good, Highness. No assassin would reveal such and should a name drop, it might be of an ally rather than an enemy." 

"What will you, then?"

"Observe, deduce. In truth we will not learn much."

"What is your name, Captain?"

"Your Highness, I am Robeart." 

The name tickled the back of her mind, and she looked him over closely. Only a slight fleck of gray at his temples belied his age, for otherwise he was hale. He would be handsome but for his eyes, which were spaced wide like a predator's. 

"Thank you, Robeart. And now I must..." She turned to go, but he interceded.

"If I may."

She paused and he continued.

"In a few moments I shall challenge you to a judicial duel."

She glared at him with narrowed eyes.

"You claim the throne but we're now in a time of war. You come to us on the morn of your father's death from the ether, assassins your harbingers."

"You doubt my..."

"In other times the rules of succession apply, but wartime calls for a warrior monarch. Our battles are not always decided on the field of war, but in judicial duels. I have trained Prince Monrovius to assume this duty. I have not trained you."

"Your goal is my blood, then, Captain Robeart?"

"Perhaps. Others will surely call for the trial, others less skilled than I am and therefore less precise. They'll not know of your injury; one wayward strike shall end your reign before it begins. If I do not challenge you now, I'll never be able to accurately gauge your mettle."

She could not keep the bitterness from her voice. "I knew this day would come from the moment I fled for the woods, Captain. I've not been idle."

With that she turned and walked out of the hall. 

* * *

The surreality of the morning caught up with Regeneria. She wanted to weep with fury and remorse, crawl into Illona's arms and just be. Princesses are orphans; their parents inevitably succumb to the kingdom they serve. Illona, and for that matter Garrick, were the adults Regeneria had been most kindred to. 

But she wandered towards the Great Hall instead. There was much to do.

Others were also gathering in the hall, which irked Regeneria. For some reason she'd imagined privacy when confirming her father's death. She was about to enter the hall when the Lord Chamberlain and Marquess Illona came up beside her with a strand of ladies in waiting. 

"You'll not want to hold court in such clothes, Highness." Illona beckoned to her. "We've prepared something more suitable."

Regeneria followed Illona towards the Queen's Chambers, which had stayed largely empty since her mother's death ten years ago. As they walked, the Lord Chamberlain asked after Regeneria's needs. She asked him to prepare a hospital bed to be placed in her chambers, and to have the various stewards ready to report, briefly, status of affairs. She asked for a flask of kratom tea and a strand of jerky. The Chamberlain hurried off.

The Queen's Chambers had been scrupulously maintained, but the anteroom felt sterile. In the center of the room was a resplendent gown in blue and white silk, with silver threads and a high lace collar. Regeneria could see herself in the massive mirror across the room. Her disheveled ringlets of reddish brown hair, stained scullery smock, and single bracer contrasted sharply with the reflection of the massive silk bussels in the mirror. She barked a short laugh.

"Thank you, Marquess. Your intent is gracious, and I hope to wear such a gown soon. But I'll not be able to fight in that."

Illona was taken aback and looked long at Regeneria. Instinctively she reached out and took the girl in her arms, stroked her hair and pressed her cheek against Regeneria's forehead. Regeneria allowed the contact, indeed she longed for it, but then gently pushed Illona away. 

"Whatever sympathy you've spared for me, turn it aside in favor of cunning. I need your thoughts on affairs of state. For I am not current."

She turned to a lady-in-waiting. "Summon the Quartermaster." Regeneria then suffered her hair to be brushed and she changed into clean linens. A servant brought in a silver tray with a flask of piping hot tea and a pristine plate with shavings of dried meat piled high on a lace doily. Regeneria smirked at the contrast and bit into some of the jerky, wishing she'd specified for the tea to be cold. Nevertheless she drank and welcomed the subtle, familiar buzz and the clarity it brought. The throbbing in her arm diminished.

When Garrick entered the chamber he wasted no time. He took to one knee, rose, and said "The prince and prisoner are secured, your Highness. The news has spread and even now we are having trouble containing it. You need to address the people as soon as possible."

"I will do but first I need clad. What armor is there for me?"

"Are you riding, then? I'll need some minutes to procure mail."

"No, leathers. Is my mother's fencing frock in good repair?"

"Well, yes, Regeneria, but it is hardly armor. Its design is merely to stave off an errant foil tip."

"Indeed. I've not spent these last years in armor, but in cloth. The judicial duel allows only linen and leather. Armor shall bind, which I cannot tolerate. The fencing leathers are not restrictive."

"Judicial duel? Surely you jest." But as he spoke the truth won out. "So yours is to be a matriarchy of war."

"Mine will be a matriarchy of war indeed, though I did not choose it. But I will see it thrive until Monrovius can claim the throne three years hence."

"Regeneria, you were ever a quick study, and graceful too. But this path means death. Let me choose a martial surrogate."

Regeneria's eyes blazed and she rose sharply from her seat. If Garrick regretted his familiarity, it was disguised as he cast his eyes to the floor.

"I know you mean well, Garrick, but do not patronize me ever again. I am not the idle girl you once humored and I did not flee this castle in fear. I mean to maintain, yes even to improve, the integrity of the Franks. Too long have we bartered away our sovereignty to the lower kings and the aristocrats. Even the clergy hold more sway in some quarters! When my father schemed for me to marry that hapless dotard, I did not flee to preserve my chastity... but to preserve the potency of this throne!"

Garrick was now on his knees, a flush in his face.

"Now rise, and walk me to the armory."

As they left the chamber, a brace of guards detached from the wall and stepped in front of them. Another followed behind.

When Regeneria stepped into the armory, sights and smells flooded her mind. She'd spent many happy days here, repairing armor, grappling and fighting, reveling in Garrick's industry and soaking up what tips the guards had to give her. Her royal training included combat, but for a princess it was limited to fencing, archery, and defensive martial arts. Only here had Regeneria picked up the practical knowledge she craved.

Garrick went to the racks and pulled down her mother's fencing leathers, which he handed to her. The garment was unwieldy, not for being over heavy but for its volume. In addition to the customary fitted blouse, this outfit featured a large cowl and a floor length leather skirt. The odds of the Queen facing death by foil tip were slim indeed.

Regeneria set the garment on the oaken sewing table and took shears from a hook on the wall. She cut vees out of the skirt sides, then trimmed it away above where she gaged her knees to be. The cowl fell next, leaving a ragged collar behind. She lay the sleeves against her arm then snipped them off at the elbow. Regeneria put the garment on over her linens and flexed her arms and knees. She could tell the armor was there, of course, but it fit well and was not restrictive. She trimmed a bit more from the skirt, leaving but a flap at her rear and her groin. 

"I need bracers, Garrick, and a francisca."

Garrick took the measure of her arms and returned shortly with water-hardened bracers which ran from her wrists halfway to her elbows. She put them on then drummed her fingers over the taut leather, relishing the plinking sound. She looked into a full mirror which had a permanent smattering of dust embedded into its periphery. Through the haze a much improved version of herself emerged, superior to the one who had gazed at her from behind the dress in the chamber mirror. Her brushed hair gleamed with highlights of burnished copper and her grey-green eyes were hard with resolve. Her complexion could not entirely mask the toll that outdoor life had taken. Nevertheless, the clarity of her features and her composure were intimidating, which pleased Regeneria. She already knew that men found her attractive. Her beauty was not obvious and was easily masked; women did not instinctively fire jealous looks her way. But there was some spark in her countenance that drove men to lust. Regeneria had learned to use that.


Lady Sting Ch. 02



She had slept, for the shadows had moved around the chamber. Robeart was gone. A lady in waiting was coming through the antechamber, which must have roused her. The lady paused discreetly, allowing Regeneria time to straighten her obscenely placed skirt. 

"Queen Regeneria, dinner shall be served soon. Are you rested?"

"I will attend."

The lady-in-waiting paused uncomfortably. 

"Yes, what is it?"

"The hall will be quite crowded. Perhaps you wish to change out of your dueling gear?"

Thus began the most awkward part of Regeneria's reign. She literally had no shoes. Her mother's clothes would fit, but they were entirely contrary to the image she wished to project. Cutting off sleeves was not going to work this time. Regeneria had no choice but to don the poofy blue dress in her antechamber. 

"Draw a bath. And summon the Marquess."

"The bath is already drawn, Highness. And the Marquess is waiting... along with many others."

"Nevertheless, admit only Marquess Illona."

Regeneria had scarcely sunk into the bathwater when Illona appeared. Her eyes roamed, critical and concerned, over Regeneria's body. A tear formed in her eye as she took in the changes and scars. Regeneria had been a child on the cusp of puberty when Illona had seen her last. Now she was a lithe, toned, and hard teenager who had grown up too quickly. Regeneria's thighs and bottom were impossibly fit, her arms lean but muscular. Illona's breath skipped in the back of her throat when she saw the pliable swells of Regeneria's breasts, wreathed in copper curls which floated in the water. They were perfect and untouched amidst the background noise of bumps and bruises. Her nipples jutted out fiercely, crinkling up just right. Illona wanted to grip them tight; massage them and watch the perfect flesh jiggle around.

Regeneria quickly scrubbed the sex, sweat, and grime from herself and then emerged. She stood dripping and demure in front of Illona, who dabbed at her scars gently with a towel. She scrubbed Regeneria's hair and used the towel to pull the girl into her. Illona held Regeneria's head against her bosom while Regeneria wept quietly.

Regeneria ran her hands down the small of Illona's back, then up her ribcage. She slid a hand around front and snuck it inside Illona's frock. She cupped Illona's breast, weighing it heavily in her palm, and then rolled the fat nipple around in her fingertips. Illona arched her back and mewled.

"Do you remember how you used to comfort me in the days after Mother died?"

Illona nodded but did not speak. As though in a trance, she watched Regeneria unbutton her frock. Regeneria pulled the crisp cloth aside. Tented within, filtered by the evening sunlight, Regeneria saw Illona's formidable, porcelain breasts capped with delicate pink nipples. She carefully coaxed one into the open and capped it with her lips, pursed and sucking until the fine pink flesh swelled to fill her mouth. The enormous nipple hardened and bumped into her teeth. Regeneria sucked greedily, swirling her tongue wetly around Illona's breast. 

"I can't tell how how often these memories comforted me throughout the years. You are a giving woman, Illona. Alas, that time is not now."

"Yes, Regeneria. You've set a brisk pace. Let's get you dressed."

The Marquess took Regeneria by the hand and led her to the antechamber. She pulled the satiny concoction over the girl's shoulders. Illona knelt before Regeneria and kissed her breastbone, then her nipples, then her stomach, tugging the dress downward to cover each kiss. Finally she planted a long kiss on the patch of fine copper curls at the cleft of Regeneria's thighs. She suckled the hair with her tongue, raising goosebumps on the smooth skin beneath. Regeneria giggled a bit, finally reminding Illona of the charming girl who had fled in the middle of dinner so long ago. Head draped beneath the balloon of blue silk, Illona could not help herself and wriggled her tongue tip in between Regeneria's moistened lips. Regeneria chastened her with a half-hearted dismissal and Illona stood.

Although Regeneria hated the implications of her attire, it was hard to ignore the effect that the bath and dress had upon her. As Illona brushed and fussed over her hair, Regeneria stared at the regal sight in the mirror. Her eyes went through a quick progression of awe, wistfulness, anger, and sadness. Illona found her again in tears and wiped them away with kisses. Finally, Regeneria's face coalesced into resolve. She strode into the hall.

* * * 

The line of supplicants was short but their collective agitation made up for it. Waiting for her were, naturally, her ladies-in-waiting, but also the Lord Chamberlain, Robeart and two of his men, Garrick, a clergyman, and a few nobles eager to get in on the ground floor of her reign. Some of the wind left the sails of this last group as the formerly scruffy Queen Regeneria emerged in full regalia, clad in cool silk and a colder stare with her attendants in tow. 

The Lord Chamberlain had first rights and wasted no time. He warned her that reserves were low for a back-to-back burial feast and crowning ceremony. Brigands had raided the House Rupii Ilse hard this fall and winter, though not as hard as some Houses. Regeneria nodded and instructed him to combine the two feasts, and to use austerity as a guiding theme in all House matters. The idea seemed to please him as he bowed off.

"Captain." Regeneria acknowledged Robeart curtly. 

"I believe the assassin is a Frank. She is lowborn but very smart. Her weapons and clothing are English, crafted with exceptional skill, using techniques I am not even aware of. She has said almost nothing."

"I will talk with her. What else?"

"The people were roused at the king's death and went looking hither and yon for the assassin, which you have found. No trace exists of another, but they typically work in teams. I believe another one lurks nearby. I suggest you and Monrovius keep guards at all times. I have selected two men I trust." He nodded at the men beside him.

"I will suffer this for now. Thank you for your diligence. When Monrovius is announced for dinner, have your man escort him."

The clergyman said a few words regarding the funeral. Regeneria wished it to be soon, and requested a private viewing of her father so that she could properly grieve. The nobles expressed their condolences and solicited for meetings with Regeneria, which she demurred until after her crowning ceremony. 

At last Garrick approached her as Regeneria heard Marquess Illona being announced within the Great Hall. He was all business.

"Your father bartered away many of our stores. Brigands have taken many of our trains, leaving us without goods but with many enemies. As it is, I have weapons to defend us from modest attacks, horses and machines enough to counter some force, but no hope of marching in open war against anyone."

"Fortunately we are not in open war. I need to know what political ties we have that are true, and which were selfish machinations. We need to assess strengths and weaknesses so I can take easy ground quickly. But this I tell you now; leave the brigands to me and trouble your mind on them no longer."

"Queen Regeneria -- no patronizing intended, you underestimate this problem. The reach of these brigands extends far beyond our borders. We have been fortunate compared to other Houses and have lost few lives as they rob us of our goods. Yet I assure you these are hard men, desperate and cunning. A few more attacks and we will go hungry."

Regeneria sighed inwardly and softened a bit. "Garrick, I bade you never patronize me again. I spoke in anger then, and I am angry now, but not with you. I rely on you to speak your mind. If you promise not to mince words, I promise to treasure your counsel." She watched his red-brown eyes twinkle a bit beneath their gruff brows. "But I am going to restore this monarchy and remind us Franks of our splendor. I will do it nicely if I can. Now if the brigands have not whisked away dinner let us eat." 

With that she entered the hall, Garrick and her guard close by. The people in the hall stood as the herald's call rang out. These confrontations between Regeneria and her people were growing tiresome; as ever, a few were glowing with pride, a few were glowering, and the rest merely seemed frazzled. Regeneria did note that the pleased gazes numbered more than they had in the morning, when she had been clad in scullery rags and shielding Prince Monrovius. 

One day. It had been only one day. She had infiltrated this Manor in secret, declared herself Queen, saved the Prince's life, hunted down the assailant, held counsel in this very hall, fought and fucked Robeart, and had a nap. She had suckled all too briefly at Illona's breast then held more counsel. But she realized that no one here knew what was going on. No one but herself.

She walked through the throng and approached the table where Monrovius and Illona had already been seated. She ran her hand along its polished wood. For her it still felt damp from the sweat of Prince Von Bruen's pimpled brow, still reeked of her father's betrayal and weakness. Regeneria turned to address the people before she sat down.

"Seven years ago I left this hall and left you. In the time since, you have grieved -- if not for me, then for the brigands or the erosion of our influence. The tribes ever vie for advantage, and a daughter of the Crown could have helped you in your troubles. I left you and return only now, when your King has been taken. An amazing coincidence, is it not?"

Not one person in the hall spoke.

"I did not kill King Sigobert. No, he killed himself." A slight murmur rose and quelled within the crowd. "I did not weaken our people. I did not flee in fear, or to escape my duty, or to pursue idle dreams prancing in my head. No! I fled this hall when I saw it would soon be bartered away from under our noses! The king killed himself by making us weak. I have missed your laughter, and your troubles. I wish to take back these last years and live under the strong rule of my father. To be prosperous and happy. But that is not reality."

Regeneria looked across the hall to see that her words were taking effect. 

"When our ancestors came down the steppes into Bohemia, carrying the lights of our knowledge and the francisca blades that bested even the Spartans, they found this land and said it was Good. They rousted the barbaric rabble from their caves and turned those stones into the fine castles we enjoy now. Would they be proud to see us squabbling like crows over carrion, whoring away our children to fat men in order to enjoy a bit more wine with our suppers? They would not. Their anger would be most dire. And now I bade you enjoy your supper. Take heart that your princess went into her caccoon and returned to you as a Queen."

With that Regeneria sat and the hall followed suit. Servers immediately came forth with platters piled high and prepared a plate for her and the others at the High Table. While the rest of the people were being served, a man moved forward and took the fork from her hand. He took a bite from her plate then moved down to Monrovius.

"What is this?" she asked.

"I am the taster, your Highness. The Captain of the Guard bade me to taste for you and Monrovius."

Exasperated, Regeneria took her plate and Monrovius's and handed it to the taster. She stood and walked down the dais, waving to the people to sit. She walked up to Argonulf, took his plate and another, then strode back to her seat and handed one to Monrovious. Argonulf started in surprise, then laughed heartily as his food was replaced by servers. Monrovious giggled a bit and looked at his sister with a tinge of curiosity.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there with you these last years, Rove. I can't bring them back or make up memories for you."

"Rove..." Monrovious tasted the word with his mind. "You used to chase me and we'd laugh. That is what I recall of you: laughter. And then you were gone."

"Yes. It was abrupt."

"Father could not use me as a trading chip like he did you. I know why you left. I knew our Father." With this, Monrovius snaked his hand out to take his sister's. "I trust you, Regeneria. Let us be friends."

* * *

The cell was dank and musty from disuse, but well lit by gaslights which caused shadows to prance subtly over the rough hewn stone walls. The assassin sat calmly in the middle of the floor, clad in fresh linens. She was shackled to a chain anchored to an iron ring in the floor. A chamber pot and padded table were nearby. Guards stood post at each end of the room.

Robeart watched Regeneria curiously while she sized up the woman on the floor. Regeneria did not seem angry or afraid. She was clad in riding clothes save for her ever bare feet. She was placid, but somehow vibrating at the same time.

The assassin had short cropped, straight black hair. Her luminous green eyes were flecked with brown. Her skin was both pallid and bronzed. An old scar indented her jawline.

Regeneria reached inside her cloak and withdrew a long leather case. The assassin's eyes flickered briefly. Regeneria opened the case and withdrew the crumpled, golden francisca with the bejeweled wasp fob and tossed it onto the floor between herself and the woman, daring her to pick it up. The woman drew her knees up and rested her chin there, staring at Regeneria stubbornly.

"A gaudy thing, isn't it? Such irony for you to have been foiled twice by this bauble. Does your head still hurt?"

The woman remained silent. Regeneria turned to one of the guards. 

"Bind her."

The guard clamped bracers on her wrists and ankles then ran four chains from the walls. The assassin stood, spreadeagled slightly. Regeneria walked around her, ducking beneath the chains. She picked the scepter off the floor and ran her thumb along the blade edge. At least it was sharp. She lifted the hem of her prisoner's shirt and placed the tip of the blade at the base of her spine. 

Regeneria slid the blade upwards along the curve of the woman's spine without piercing the skin. The linen split neatly in two until the halves fell away, baring her pale, muscled back to Regeneria. Regeneria knelt and placed her tongue atop the cleft of the woman's ass, then licked up along the blade's path. The woman shivered involuntarily when Regeneria's tongue reached the hair at the nape of her neck. Regeneria probed the woman's hair with her fingertips, feeling the purple mound of the wound and tracing around the laceration. Her scalp showed white from distended hairs.

Regeneria commanded the guard to bring cold kratom tea. After he left she turned to face her captive head on.

"You know already that we are not going to torture you. Yet I asked you a question and expect an answer. I did not get one, so I found the answer as best I could. I judge that your head pounds like a gong, forcing other thoughts away. You disdain us and this place. We have the gall neither to torture you or to kill you on the spot. We are enemies not for our strength, but for our weakness of spirit."

The woman's eyes lost some of their detachment.

"I am not going to ask who sent you, just so we can pursue some petty retribution. I do not know which of our enemies you belong to. I do not care because our greatest enemy has been slain by your own hand. And soon, enemies are going to swarm out of the woodwork seeking my blood. So you are but a distraction to me now and I must end it."

The guard returned with a flask which Regeneria took. She fondled the woman's scarred jawbone, tilted back her head, and poured some of the tea into her mouth. 

"I should kill you and mount your head on a pike at the Manor gate. But it galls me to kill a true Frank for enforcing the old ways. If I send you back, you will merely report and strengthen our enemies further. So I will offer you a draw -- if you tell me where you got your weapons."

The tea took hold and the assassin's eyes cleared of pain. 

"What draw?"

Her voice was low and melodious; a bubbling brook running over a razor. 

"I bade you work for me, restoring the honor of this tribe. It is not counter to your own goals I think. If you tell me who sent you I would work to spare them, for I respect their commitment to our ways." The assassin shifted. "If you stay silent on that point, you will end up killing your own kinsmen. But your kinsmen are mine. We've only forgotten amid the insidious rise of the aristocracy, which pits kings against each other like cocks in a fight.

If you love your home more than the collective honor of the Franks, stay silent. I will feed you the rest of this tea, and you will sleep, and never wake again."

The woman jerked upright and noticed the vial in Regeneria's hand. 

"A trinket the good captain pulled from your skirt. A fitting end for you. It's a shame I never got your name, for there will be no way to honor your grave once Monrovius is High King and your bones are forgotten stepping stones beneath the feet of our tribe's prosperous descendants." 

Regeneria handed the flask to the guard and headed out of the cell. When she reached the door she looked back. The woman's linen shirt sagged, revealing lightly tanned cleavage and toned shoulders. But her head was thrust upward and her eyes narrowed at Regeneria. Regeneria took the door handle.

"Wait!"

Regeneria turned and walked back. The women stood nose-to-nose. 

"Martyl Charles. He is the son of Nicholas Charles, a businessman outside London. They make farm machinery."

Regeneria had heard of machines, of course, but did not understand them. Men always worked whereas machines broke down. Machines were awkward, gangly things which spewed smoke and rusted. 

"Let her free," Regeneria said to the guard. When the woman was unshackled and rubbing her wrists, Regeneria asked her name. 

"I am Basina."

"Well met, Basina." Regeneria thrust the scepter viciously into Basina's solar plexus and she crumpled, gasping, to the floor. "Try to harm my brother ever again and you will beg for poison."

Regeneria looked at Robeart and cocked her head towards the door. As they walked out she murmured quietly to him. "I've thought of a use for this francisca. When can we train?" 

He snorted. "Why wait?" She popped open the flask and drank the rest of the tea, putting the vial of poison back into her cloak.

* * *

Robeart led Regeneria through the inner wall to a row of neat cottages. At the end of the row was a secluded garden tucked in the vee between two ramparts. The garden had a round bowling lawn free of ornament. It was very like a dueling ground. Robeart told Regeneria's bodyguard to watch the lane and that he would assume guarding the Queen. 

Robeart went into a stone house at the edge of the lawn and retrieved two axes. He kicked off his shoes and tossed an axe to Regeneria. She caught it and came at him, swinging leisurely. He parried her as he began to instruct.

"These duels are difficult to win quickly. You each begin with axes touching ground. The first strike is therefore telegraphed. If you continue to leap forth as you did with me, soon enough someone will merely kneel and hold out his axe to cleave you as you charge."

Their mock battle was serving no purpose so Regeneria stopped attacking. "What is the secret to this mockery, then?"

"If you treat it as an actual battle you will possibly win, probably kill some people you did not intent to, and inevitably lose to someone who trains only in judicial duels for a living. You must stop trying only to kill and learn to view it as a dance or a sport." Regeneria snorted in disdain.

"My job here is backwards; usually the hardest part is teaching people how to take a life when called for. I'm actually less worried about your composure in a duel to the death. That part you seem to have down." He glanced for her reaction but she was still waiting for advice. He went back to his cottage and picked up a cowbell which was hanging from a rope.




Lady Sting Ch. 02



"Let's begin again. I want you to strike this cowbell with the blade of your axe -- without causing the bell to ring. If you can do it three times we will be done here."

At first, Regeneria was frustrated. Robeart held the bell in his left hand and parried her deftly with the axe in his right. She could not land a blow on the bell. So she picked up the speed of her attack and finally nicked the bell, which rang merrily. 

She swore and attacked again, getting into a restrained rhythm. Their duel became less of a sprint and more of a marathon; she saw their blades as dance partners whirling around a ballroom floor. 

The difference in attack tempo finally clicked in Regeneria's mind. She twisted her blade into a different grip and surged forth, tapping the bell three times in quick succession. It did not ring out, save the dull metallic raps of her axe blade. 

Beaming at him in triumph, Regeneria walked over to where the leather scepter case lie in the grass next to the empty flask of tea. As she scooped up the case, Regeneria addressed him in a mock-serious tone. "Captain Robeart, I am exhausted from this toil. May we retire to your cottage to discuss tactics?"

Robeart opened the heavy oak door and ushered her into a large cabin made of heavy stone. Thin arched windows were latticed with iron and battened with oak shutters. The heavy furniture was utilitarian but carved with care and skill. Aside from a modest table and several sitting chairs by the fireplace, there was a work area in the corner with long tables and racks of weapons and equipment. 

Yet it was the bed Regerneria was interested in. Its massive four posters were hewn trees. A goosedown duvet with large square baffles covered the expansive mattress. A suncatcher in the window caught the slant of the afternoon sun, casting spots of gold and red light over the bed. She held the scepter up to catch the light, sending her own amber dots to pool inside the red light on the duvet. The bejeweled wasp in the fob dazzled her with its light. She turned to offer the scepter to Robeart. The light spattered across her face and caught her spay of freckles on fire. "I believe we agreed on a training reward. I'd like to see what you can do with this francisca." 

With that she climbed onto the bed on all fours and tossed her head to look back at him. Robeart moved towards her and untucked the riding shirt from her breeches. He caught the shirt with the blade and sliced it in half just as Regeneria had done to the assassin Basina. The shirt fell away cleanly from Regeneria's arched back. Robeart bent over her, placed the tip of his tongue firmly in the cleft of her ass, and licked slowly up her backbone. Regeneria shivered and goosebumps popped out along her flank. 

Robeart walked around the bed, taking in the sight of a body honed by the outdoors. Pliant breasts swayed beneath her taut ribcage. Crinkled, reddish-brown nipples scribed orbits in the air as he tapped the flat of the axe gently on her backside. Robeart reached under Regeneria and gripped the cone of one breast in his fingertips, grinding the nub of her nipple against his palm while he massaged her tit flesh. He traded places and fondled her other nipple, rolling it between his fingers and tugging it downwards. 

All the while he marveled at her fine form, particularly how well she had healed. For she had many scars from many wounds, but none were as ugly as they should be. Instead of detracting, the scars accentuated a delectable body rippling with menace and radiating energy. Robeart wanted to see more. He reversed the axe, caught her waistband, and then sawed gently through the fabric of her breeches. As the cloth fell away and her asscheeks peeked out, he kissed a trail down her body. Robeart took care sawing away around Regeneria's groin, cutting the breeches and panties away from her pussy, peppering her ass and lips with small kisses. 

He startled Regeneria with two quick downward slashes of the blade, which caused the bunched up shreds of her panties to fall away down her thighs. Robeart took his time licking down her legs and back up into her wetted pussy, licking the pleasant tang away from her dark, coppery curls. A hint of brilliant pink flashed at him and he petted it with his fingertip. 

When Robeart judged her ready, he came around to face her, casually fondling her asscheecks and breasts as he made his way forward. He grabbed the francisca under the blade and brought the leather grip and amber fob up to Regeneria's face. He tapped her lightly on the nose, looking into her eyes. She was alive with sensation, seeing him but seeing past him at the same time. Robeart gripped her chin firmly and rubbed the hilt around on her lips. He pulled her mouth open and pushed the fob inside, swirling it around to wet it with her tongue. He pushed the hilt in and out until it was slick and moved easily. 

Robeart moved behind Regeneria and parted her pussy lips with the vee of his fingers. He rubbed the round fob of the axe handle around on her labia, swirling it like a cue tip being chalked. He pushed the axe inside her and watched the wasp disappear into her pussy. Robeart sawed the makeshift dildo inside and out, to and fro like the bow of a violin. He was playing her body and she was rapt.

Regeneria was turned on by this degradation of her family's most sacred token. The francisca had come with them down the steppes, forged hundreds of years ago by a master smith in western Asia. It had been held by generations of queens, revered by thousands upon thousands of her people. And now it was crammed rudely up her cunt, lubed by her own spit. Regeneria thought about her mother and her grandmother and their grandmothers and great-grandmothers all holding this axe and shoving it into her pussy, murmuring words of encouragement. She thought about those thousands upon thousands of people watching her breasts slap around wildly as she impaled herself again and again on their sacred scepter. 

But it was Robeart watching as a red flush moved over Regeneria's collarbone. He now was barely fucking her with the francisca; she was rutting back and forth in his bed and grinding her pussy against the fob of the axe. The ball popped in and out with a wet sound. He could hear the slap of her breasts and her incoherent murmurings. And just like that, Regeneria was there, yelling her release and bucking even harder. Then she collapsed her arms and head down into the bed, leaving her pert ass thrust upward. 

Robeart withdrew the axe and tossed it on the bed. He paused but a moment then replaced the francisca handle with his engorged cock. He dipped it into her hot flesh and rubbed around until the head popped in. Robeart grabbed Regeneria's pelvis by the hips and pushed his cock inside. He felt his balls slap against her damp bush and settle there. Then he started thrusting away, gliding her hips back and forth and sliding her pussy around his shaft. As he fucked her, Regeneria rested her chin on her arms. She stared in wonder at the jeweled wasp and had another orgasm.



Lady Sting Ch. 03



Regeneria met the clergyman outside the tomb in the cemetery. Unlike the dueling ground, this place was well kept. The lawn was like a billiard table beneath her feet. Tufts of snow dotted the area. The pair sat on a granite bench.

"I am Father August. Your father and I were somewhat close. He was angry at you, of course, but in quiet times after prayer he would express remorse to me. Your departure grieved him."

"He would trade me to a dotard and weaken our whole tribe just for selfish gain. His laments were for his broken dreams, not for me."

"Our Lord Christo teaches that we should forgive our enemies."

"Then he and I share a pragmatic world view, for I have just done so. The assassin walks free." 

"I wasn't talking about that. Can you find it in your heart to forgive your father before we lay him to rest? It is the Christian way."

Regeneria pondered this. She was familiar with Christianity, of course. King Sigobert had welcomed the clergymen into his manor when he learned of tithing. She had attended some services and heard about Lord Christo. Indeed, he had given her the idea for gaining an edge in judicial duels. She saw images of thorns in his feet and decided to toughen her own. 

It was a singularly odd religion, claiming one god, shunning violence, and restricting sex. None of it made sense to her, but for one thing: claim one god and you can unite the people. Just as Regeneria planned to do with Monrovius and the Franks.

"Father August, I will not cast aside the agreements my father had with you. Indeed, I wish to support the spread of your gospel. You have tended to these grounds better than my own people have tended to the Manor. I would offer you a permanent home here in Rupii Ilse. And each tribe I conquer, I shall carve out land for your men to preach from."

Father August seemed pleased at the idea. "If I may... there is an atoll near the base of the Kuttenblade. It is a pleasant spot with a calming view of the foothills. It is some ways from here but well within your realm. 

We Cisterians thrive on labor; it is a tenet of our order. I would establish a monastery there, by your leave. I would build an orchard or some such and turn over to you nine tenths the fruits of our labor as payment for the land you bequeath us. It is not the result, but the work that appeals to us."

"The atoll -- I know it. It is indeed a charming spot. Very well; you may have it and a share of the surrounding lands. Now leave me to my grief so I can prepare for this eve's ceremony."

The clergyman hastened away as Regeneria entered the tomb. Her father lay on the table, still and composed. He was a man no longer, but a shell of skin and muscle and bone. She prodded his midriff with disdain. He'd gained some weight, but the strength beneath was still obvious. She sighed and muttered aloud "you utter fool."

Stricken by melancholy, Regeneria sought Marquess Illona but could not find her. She decided to visit Garrick in the storerooms. She walked through rows of arms and rounded a corner. Regeneria was surprised to find Marquess Illona there, on her knees in a pile of straw with her white frock bunched around her waist. Torchlight warmed her pale shoulders and the white swells of her large breasts. Illona was cupping her tits together and Garrick was feverishly plunging his ruddy cock between them. His distended, purple head glistened with saliva. It continually surged in and out of Illona's tightly pressed cleavage. Illona clucked and mewled in encouragement as she pinched her large pink nipples together and let a stream of saliva fall from her bottom lip.  It pooled in the vee of her breasts, lubricating Garrick's thrusting cock. 

His tunic was off, exposing a barrel chest luxuriant with coiled, tawny ringlets of chest hair. Sweat glistened from his brow and his face was red. A spasm of apprehension crossed Garrick's face and his thrusting slowed. He wriggled his hips and dragged the mushroom edges of his sensitive cockhead back and forth across Illona's nipples. He grabbed the base of his cock and slid it underneath her tits, pressed against the warmth of her breastbone, until just the pisshole was peeking out. The purple button of flesh quivered and spat ropes of cum wildly into the air. Two splashed across Illona's cheekbones. The others writhed in the air and nestled atop the blonde tresses of Illona's braided hair, suspended in fine wisps of gold. 

The sight had lifted Regeneria's spirits and she retreated. That evening passed in a blur. There was a ceremony in the church, then the burial service where Regeneria had the grace to look sad. 

Shortly afterward was the crowning ceremony. Regeneria again raised the bladed scepter and cleaved the air thrice in a fleur-de-lis. During dinner many people paid their respects and congratulations. Regeneria fielded them all numbly; not from disinterest but because she was so tired. At the end of the evening she went to her chamber, left her dress in a heap on the floor, and fell immediately asleep.

The next morning Regeneria rose and called for a meeting of court. Aside from the people she knew there were dozens of nobles assembled. She rose to address them all.

"You have honored me with your patience these last days. I know you all have questions and matters of import to discuss. Yet I will be largely absent from you and this court. Turn your eyes not inward, but across the plains of Bohemia. I shall march... nein, I shall fly across these plains with fury, reclaiming our lands and reuniting our people. To those who assist me, I offer shares of the taken lands."

The room stirred with incredulity. 

"Yes, you think to yourselves: how can a teenage girl unite the Franks? What resources have we to mount a war? Your disbelief will be short lived. For now, leave me alone to prepare the reclamation of our honor. Are there any questions?"

It was clear that there were many questions, but at the moment none were voiced.

"Here then are the priorities. I need the outer wall in good repair. The stores need to be consolidated and protected. The windows need battened. Prepare our home against retaliation. There will be some, but it hardly matters at this point. Any who wish can waltz right in." 

She left them to their preparations and asked Robeart to join her. "Let's go have a look at the men."

They walked through the courtyard to the training grounds. A handful of the Royal Guard were grappling. Some were polishing weapons. All of them looked at Regeneria passively and without much enthusiasm. Robeart whistled sharply and the men formed three ranks. The first rank was the thinnest, with older, hardened men. She surmised that these were the ranking officers within the guard. Regeneria paced before them and tuned sharply.

"An assassin got through and killed my father. She almost killed Monrovius and me. Who is responsible for this?" The men shifted uncomfortably. "Who commands you?"

She saw the eyes of one of officers glance towards Robeart. She was on the man in an instant. Regeneria lashed out, catching him square in the gut before sweeping his feet brutally from beneath him. The man fell hard and rolled out of the way, preparing to fight back, but she was on him too quickly. Regeneria pinned his legs and snapped his joints into a fingerlock. Immobilized, he stared into her scalding eyes.

"Robeart is the Captain of the Guard, but he does not command you. I do. Do you take issue with that?"

"No, Queen Regeneria."

"Back to ranks, then." She stood and let the man return to his place.

She pondered his words. "Queen Regeneria... Yes, that is true. But I am a Queen Regnant. I will not hold this title long. So I step from the dais and walk among you as a fellow soldier. I call myself better than any of you."

The demeanor of the men hardened. A couple stepped forth, glancing at Robeart for permission. He turned to the side, ignoring their unspoken question. Regeneria spat on the ground and the men rushed her. 

She waited a beat then rolled under one of the men, hooking his arm and flinging him into his fellow guardsman. That man lay still on the ground, so she squared off against the first who had scrambled up. He charged her, pummeling at her face with precise and vicious fists. She merely dodged out of the way, deflecting once or twice with raised forearms. She allowed one blow to glance off her cheek as she surged in close, nudged him with her hip, and shot her arm straight upward under his jaw. He grunted as his head snapped backward. She elbowed his abdomen sharply and flipped him over her hip, gripping one hand in a fingerlock as she slammed him into the ground. She kept her foot on his head and his face in the dirt as she addressed the ranks again.

"You are my Royal Guard. If Monrovius should fall, you shall fall to a man. Furthermore, I march to war soon and need field commanders. War is coming to you, whether here or afield." She glanced at the man under her foot. "Now see to these men."

Then she left the training ground. Regeneria noticed that Basina had been watching from a rampart and waved her down. Basina inclined her head and stepped back into the shadows.

They sat on a bench with a discreet view of the training ground, so Regeneria could watch as the injured guards were tended to. Regeneria waved Basina's minder away then did the same to her own guard. The two men leaned against the rampart, keeping a sharp eye on the women. Regeneria noticed that Basina's guard had a gun trained on her.

"And so your freedom begins," Regeneria observed ruefully. "Do you want to be truly free? To live under the sun and join the fight anew?" 

"You want me to give up my fellow assassin."

"That, and I want your fealty. You came here to end our monarchy for good. You have seen my retort. Are we still enemies? Can we not stand side by side?"

Basina tugged at her black locks for a moment. "Like you I yearn to unite our people again under strong rule. Preferably mine. But neither you nor I will ever be crowned High Queen. Monrovius is as good a man as any. He will be raised by you now."

The pair sat in silence. All three of the men Regeneria had faced were ambulatory. Two were going to be perfectly fine in a week or so. One seemed in bad shape.

"Where are you from? Who came with you?"

Basina sighed and looked past Regeneria. "We are Merovingian. Beside myself are the twins, Athene and Mellora. In truth they have not the same convictions as I. But they know the status quo and understand that I offer them something better." She looked again at Regeneria. "They will like you."

"Where are they now?"

"In the woods. If I do not return this fortnight, they have instructions to move forth and slay Monrovius. They can be patient for they have nowhere else to go. Mellora is quite a shot with the longbow. She would stalk him from afar."

"It is high time I returned to the wood. Very well. I will meet you at the front portico."

Regeneria went past the stables to find Garrick. He was hewing away at a post with a handsaw, sweat dripping from his brow. "Garrick, I need you to accompany me into the wood. I know where the other assailants may be. Gather a wagon and a horse and arm yourself. Come to the front portico when you are ready."

She went next to Robeart and the guardsmen. The injured one had broken ribs and a cracked collarbone. He was not pleased to see her. 

"Captain, I know where the other assailants may be. Also, I needs get this man healed. So both of you arm yourselves and come with me."

"Your Highness, this man cannot fight."

"I'm not sure if he can or not. He was knocked out by his own man before I had a chance to test him." The officer winced but smirked a bit. "But no, he will ride in a wagon. This is not a hunt. Think of it as a scouting expedition. By the way, guardsman, what is your name?"

"Highness, I am Braeden."

The men followed her to the front portico where a horse and cart were waiting next to Garrick. Basina detached herself from the shadows and her guard followed suit. Basina and Regeneria took the lead, with their minders close by, followed by Garrick and Robeart, with Braeden in a wagon trailing. Robeart asked "where are we going, again?"

"Into the wood," Regeneria sighed, "to retrieve some things I left behind."

* * *

The group soon came to the clearing where Regeneria had found the dead man. Basina winced in embarrassment before they passed on. Afternoon sun filtered through the leaves. It was calm and cold, free of the buzzing of summer insects. Four hours passed, then Basina halted them with her raised hand. The group drew closer together for a consult.

"I feel we are being followed. The twins may have found us. They will not come out if they think I'm being held."

Robeart was quick to dismiss that notion. "We'll not simply free you to hunt us again at your leisure." 

Garrick was tense as well. The man was no stranger to combat or ambush and he knew a setup when he saw it. The two minders held their guns openly at the ready, scanning back and forth to cover faceless enemies.

That is when Regeneria rang out a clear whistle and called "Step forth, Brand! You and your rabble best face me and pay for your crimes!"

A man emerged from the trees and beamed widely at her. Regeneria ran forth and he wrapped her in a rough hug. He thumbed the shiny welt on her cheekbone, left from her tussle with the guards. Several men appeared on all sides of the scouting party, guns at the ready. They looked like giant moss balls with arms and legs.

Brand spoke to Regeneria while everyone else stood awkwardly. "So, you are alive after all. I thought they were to shoot you on sight, or parcel you up to ship to the Von Bruens!"

"Their fire went out when my father drew his last breath. But now is not the time. We seek two women with bows. Have you seen them about?"

"Nein, Lady Sting, but we have seen their arrows in the throats of our men. I have an idea of where they lay. We won't reach it by this night."

"That is just as well for I needs get this man to the grotto. The quicker the better."

"Then let us get him on a bier and make haste!" Brand gestured at two of his men. They cut staves from saplings and wound their cloaks to make a bier. Robeart was now losing patience, as was Garrick.

"You will let these men take an officer of the Royal Guard?" Robeart accused, as Garrick spat out "Lady Sting?"

Regeneria looked between them and called over to Brand. "The bier shall be born by my guardsmen here. " She gestured to the men who had been minding her and Basina. Basina smirked behind her hand. "Have your men guide the horse and cart to us. Now make haste!"

With that, the shadows reattached themselves to the trees and faded away. Brand walked in the open, chatting aimlessly with the two guardsmen and Braeden. Garrick pounced on Regeneria once more. 

"So, 'Lady Sting,' what have you been at these past years? Consorting with brigands by any chance?"

"Consorting? No. Honing more like."

"You mean to tell me that you are responsible for the raids on our wagons?"

"Responsible? I am not. The raids would occur regardless. But I led those raids and many more. I understand your ire at having your hard-earned goods stolen, but I have preserved them far better. Instead of fattening our enemies through our own labors, we now have an edge."

That sent Garrick into a reverie. The four took a moment to eavesdrop on the men ahead. Brand held the stage. "And there we were in our nethers, staring down this slip of a girl with jam all over our faces. And do you know what she said?" 

"Surely not," Braeden said with a smirk.

"Sure as the world, she said 'Gentlemen do not eat jam in their underwear.'" And she walked right up and beat the snot out of us, then took the jam. I thought she'd kill us. But no, she taught us manners right enough. Well, here we are."

The groups converged in front of a large hillside covered in mossy boulders. Ancient, massive trees dotted the hillside. A riverbed wound between two of the largest boulders into a cleft in the hillside. As Regeneria walked through the cleft she delighted in its earthy smell. Then she broke through and relished the gasp that came from Garrick.

The rift led to a massive natural cavern that went deep into the hillside, lit by an enormous moat of flame in the floor and scattered beams of sunlight from holes in the roof. Neatly arranged along one wall were crates, barrels, and bags next to a long row of empty wagons stacked like firewood. Drying strips of meat hung in lines. Along the other side were hundreds of enormous yurts. Cooking fires and long tables dotted the central floor. Several men, tiny in the distance, were training with longbows while others threw axes overhand into man-shaped targets. It was a small city. Regeneria beamed at Garrick. "We call it Wohn-Grab, The Living Tomb."

Some brigands came forth as soon as Regeneria entered the chamber. They were abuzz with curiosity and trepidation. Several tossed hostile glances upon the guardsmen and Garrick. More than one lecherous eye found its way to Basina. Robeart turned to find that Brand and his men were now covering them with longbows and rifles.

"Where have you been, Lady?" said one particularly gruff man. Mats of tangled black and gray hair coiled around his face, which was scarred and misshapen. 

"It's none of your concern, Moshii."

"It's plenty my concern if you bring this lot in here." Moshii tossed his head at Robeart. "You may be leading us now but that can change quickly if you're bringing the law into our place. Maybe they won't find their way out of here." An extremely large and slow-looking man behind Moshii giggled and nodded. Regeneria's party had their hands firmly on their axe handles and rifles. Braeden said nothing from the bier. Regeneria drew herself up fully and stared Moshii down. She turned full circle to address them all.

"Who did you think you were working for these past years? Have I not ever promised you retribution against the monarchs who wronged you? Have you not lived well under my guidance? Is a single one of you better off without me? Think hard because I am no longer Lady Sting. I left you a brigand and return to you a Queen!" 

This stunned the brigands, even Moshii, who soon regained his composure and spat on the floor. "What is this madness. Queen of what?"

"I am Queen Regeneria von Rupii Ilse and these men are my royal guard."

The men started whooping now, some in fear, some in euphoria. Several ran into the chamber to pass the word throughout the brigand camp. Brand came forth and stared at Regeneria. 

"It all makes sense now. You were the crown princess. Now you are a Queen. I thought you were exaggerating your lineage to distance yourself from us." He turned to his men. "Escort this man to the grotto. We will follow shortly."

Moshii and the brigands parted to let the men through then regarded Brand. He spoke again. "We shall have council tonight. We need to catch her up anyway." 

"Yes," Regeneria said, "now let me tend to my guardsmen. It is good to be back, Brand." She hugged him quickly and headed for the back corner of the cavern. 

* * *

At the back of Wohn-Grab was a spring. It streamed from a series of pools and waterfalls along a path paved with round pebbles and rocks. Its roar echoed from the close stone walls of the cavern. Garrick looked from side to side with uncertainty. It seemed that the water glowed of its own accord in spots, but the illusion was gone when he looked again. 

"You have not gone mad, my friend. The water does glow. Or rather, the moss beneath it."

Then they crested a rise and Garrick gasped anew. The path led down into a shallow bowl of smooth sand rimmed by torches. A pond lapped gently at the sand, leaving bits of fluff which glowed with blue-green light. If Garrick looked too closely the light was gone. But there was no mistaking the glow of the pool itself. Somewhere deep below a spring was bubbling up, kicking a constant churn of phosphorescent moss from the depths. Some of this light played dully off the dampness of the cave walls. Garrick was compelled to watch the churning aqua light which writhed and coalesced against the white sand beneath. 




Lady Sting Ch. 03



When Garrick broke out of it he noticed that Regeneria had stripped to her linens and was wading into the pool. She fell back into the water and spread her arms, floating with her eyes closed. She paddled backwards gently, using her body as a divining rod. After some moments she seemed satisfied. 

"Put him in just here. Braeden, strip down. Do not be modest. Your healing will hasten if you bring nothing but your skin into the water." 

Braeden gingerly removed his clothes with Robeart's help. The ride in had been more painful than he had let on; his face was ashen and his breathing labored. The brigands guided him to the water and he walked in, holding his ribcage with one hand.

Regeneria drifted over. She eased Braeden backwards to float on the surface and guided his prone body by a hand in the small of his back. She tasted the water and pulled him in a bit deeper, then removed her hand to let him bob over the spot she had selected.

"Rest, now, Braeden, but do not sleep. Think pleasant thoughts and stay calm. If your bones should crack, rejoice. If your body seems strange to you, or should you float out of it for a time, know that your spirit will return renewed. Revel in your pain and know that you are alive."

As she spoke these words, Braeden stiffened and cried out. Regeneria murmured into his ear as she pulled him deeper into the pool. Eddies churned shining turquoise blobs of moss around his body. Braeden went into a trance, yet still Regeneria murmured into his ear and floated him around the water. Eventually she guided him back to the shore headfirst, berthing his body onto the sand as she left the water. 

Wet linen clung stubbornly to her limbs and breasts in taut lines. The suction of transparent fabric revealed pert reddish nipples and tantalizing flashes of white. Her hair coiled in dark ringlets about her shoulders. The shelf of her breasts sent water cascading down in rivulets over Braeden's still form. Flashes of aquamarine glinted from her gray eyes. The welt on her cheek was gone. Not a single man in the grotto could keep his eyes from her. 

She reached down to close Braeden's eyes with her fingertips. "Sleep now, Braeden. All is well." 

* * *

The night had long since come. Regeneria's scout party sat at a long table surrounded by all manner of men and several women at other tables or in groups around cooking fires. There was music and laughter around them, peppered by bouts of shouting and crashing dishes. Basina was holding court to several brigands, talking shop and thwarting clumsy advances by the dozen. Brand laughed at her with his eyes and she blew him a kiss. The remains of a hearty meal lay about the table but no one moved to clear it. Instead, they were deep in conversation about recent events.

Brand caught Regeneria up on the success of recent raids. Regeneria could tell that his reports were half-hearted; like everyone else in the cavern, Brand's thoughts were on the future.

Regeneria gestured to one of her men and a drumbeat sounded around their table. The drumbeat spread and soon all were gathering near the center of the cavern at a mossy knoll. Torches were brought in and fires stoked. Brigands gathered round by the hundreds, fading into the dimness of the cavern. From a distance, it looked like an outdoor play.

Regeneria spun in a circle to address the gathered host. "You are rapists, thieves, and murderers all!" This drew some laughter and mock rebuttal. "I have lived among you these seven years, taking my lumps and dealing lumps tenfold. I have listened to your troubles and soothed your wounds. I have culled the truly vile from our band, have I not? Have I not dispatched the criminally insane, ruthless bastards who would harm us all through their depravity and selfishness?"

Cries of affirmation rang out and soon the chant went up: "Lady Sting! Lady Sting!" It was some moments until the crowd quelled.

"By now you have heard that I am the Queen. It is true." The brigands were silent and taut. "I sit upon a Throne of War. Soon I shall march upon the enemies of my House, and unite Bohemia." This last drew an audible reaction as the brigands teemed with hisses and cries.

Brand piped up. "What does this mean for us? We have fought hard for years to carve out this place. Will you turn on us? Will you turn us in, to be charged for our crimes?"

Regeneria waited for the fear and disquiet to grow in their minds. "Turn you in? To who? Who can march against The Living Tomb? The tribes are so divided that they scrabble for scraps. Nein, Brand, I do not turn on you, but I turn to you.

I have ever promised you retribution against the monarchs and policies that marginalized you. Do you want to go home? There is no home for you. Not unless you take it."

Moshii was now on his feet. "I've no wish to go back. I left for my own reasons and they haven't changed."

"Yes, Moshii, I know. Not all of you are fit for civilized society." 

This drew whoops from the crowd and a scowl from Moshii, but he stood his ground. "What will you, Lady Sting?"

"I need an army. Perhaps you have noticed the breadth and depth of our reach. We have routes into every kingdom across Bohemia. Bohemia is a stack of straws waiting to fall. And I am going to pull the jackstraw right out of the middle. This land shall fall before my fury!"

Regeneria looked around the gathered men and women and a tear formed in her eye. "I was a lost girl wandering this wood. Some of you offered me solace. Some of you offered me a sharp poke between my legs." More hoots. "None of you offered me a home. But I took one nonetheless. You can do the same... unless you prefer to roam the wood, take women only as they claw at your eyes. Do you want to fight true and gain land, a home for yourselves and your children? I leave you three days to decide." 

She looked at each man, as through weighing his soul in her mind. Regeneria drew breath and rang out: "If you march with me, know that our enemies will tremble! They will suffer! Before the end, they will kneel before me, sobbing for mercy!" 

She raised her axe high overhead and the brigands stood, screaming her name and scorching the walls with the heat of their breath. The fury of the sound caused Regeneria's ears to ring. The outcry continued for some time until Regeneria grabbed Moshii by the arms and began to dance. A fiddle broke out and a drumbeat began, and the men were soon chanting as Regeneria danced among them, flitting throughout the crowd. Firelight cast ruddy highlights over their faces. Basina also joined the dance, and other women too, and the cavern was astir well into the night.

* * *

Basina broke off and led Brand by the hand, escaping the ruckus and slipping her guardsman. She led him up the path to the grotto. He watched her delicious ass sway below the curve of her waist until it melted into the shadows. He lost sight of her. Then they crested the rise and she came into view again, backlit by aquamarine phosphorescence which cast ripples of light over her body. She had shed her clothes and was walking backwards down the path, taunting him to catch up to her. 

Brand broke into a jog and scooped her up, hefting her naked buttocks in his hands and raining kisses on her neck and shoulders. She locked onto his lips with a fierce kiss and plunged her tongue between his perfect white teeth. She felt his back and ran her fingers into his curly blond hair. Brand dazzled her with a smile and dropped her unceremoniously so he could take off his shirt. She traced her fingers over the blond fuzz at his abdomen. 

Brand could not take his eyes off her as he undressed. Basina had a truly fine form, darkly tanned in some places and bone white in others. Shining black hair fell about her face in orderly curves. Her eyes were luminous and green, catching the light just so. Fine black eyebrows capped them, hinting at disapproval or irony, and the generous quirk of her lips confirmed it. Yet a quick smile and pleasingly prominent front teeth dispelled the sting. Brand was captivated by her features and the strength in her limbs, but above all he admired her breasts. They jutted proudly from her ribcage, capped by perfectly round swells of light brown. Turquoise reflections of light swirled around her body, leaving her nethers and the vee of her breasts cloaked in shadow.

She pouted at him and jutted her chin, showing off her scar. "I didn't get to go swimming earlier." Her low voice was throaty; beguiling and dangerous. Brand continued to strip. "I am curious about this pool where bodies float and heal. Have you ever fucked while you were floating, Brand?"

As she teased him, Basina noted that Brand's cock was already hardening. The weighty orbs of his testicles distended his ballsack. Fine blond hairs covered his muscular thighs. "You blame me for being curious about fucking you in this pool?" Basina sank to her knees in the sand, pleading to Brand with an expression of mock contrition. She licked the sweat from his balls and then pursed her lips over the head of his cock, slurping it wetly inside her mouth. The whites of her eyes shone as she stared into his light blue ones, sucking gently and coaxing him to full hardness. She broke his gaze then and showed him the back of her head, a straight part in the black revealing her pale scalp. She bobbed her lips downward and let his cock slip deep into her mouth, tonguing his shaft and scratching his balls lightly with her fingers. 

Brand bent his knees and cupped her breasts. He stroked her perfect round areola lightly with his fingers. Nipples emerged; he pinched and tugged at them. Basina was bobbing up and down on his shaft, plunging his cockhead against the roof of her mouth with every thrust. She was hungry for it. Basia felt like she could push his cock all the way down her throat and into her belly, and still wouldn't get it in far enough.

Then she stood and streaked into the water. He watched her tits bounce and her legs scissor as she ran. She stopped and fell backwards, floating on the water like a fallen leaf. Brand enjoyed watching her breasts sink sideways and bob in the water. A neat patch of jet black hair was visible, an island that rose from a triangle of water captured by her thighs. 

Brand walked slowly into the water, his eyes shining with mirth and lust. "You have sullied our sacred pool with impure thoughts, Basina. I have no choice but to punish you. I regret that our time together was so short." 

She snorted and ran her eyes over his body. Brand was all blond fuzz, hard muscle, and scars. He strode towards her, ever deeper until his balls touched the surface of the pond. His cock parted the water like the prow of a boat and drooped down, resting on the surface. His glistening pisshole aimed straight at her cuntlips, edging ever closer. She writhed in faux terror until his cock bumped gently into her floating feet. Basina fondled him with her soles, rubbing her toes back and forth over the ridge of his cockhead. 

Brand soldiered onward and Basina parted her calves, spreading her legs outward and revealing herself to him. Light brown, crinkled lips pouted from a thatch of fine black hairs which coated her white, rounded mons. Brand gripped her ankles and pulled Basina towards him. His thighs slid along hers. Finally, his cockhead nestled against her labia. Brand looked down at his cock and her mons, silhouetted against white sand and blueish light. He coated his fingertips with saliva and reached down to part her lips with one hand, revealing a deep pink inside. With the other he grabbed her waist and pulled her body onto his cock. 

He held Basina with both hands and moved her back and forth, burying himself inside the heat of her folds. Basina gripped him tight and moved in the water, urging him to thrust deeper. She floated, hair waving and tits sloshing as he sawed in and out of her. Basina thought about men, and the status quo, and the upcoming war. For the first time, hope swelled inside of her and she came, moaning low, guttural cries. 

Brand could take no more. His thrusting intensified and he felt a tingling in his extremities. The tingling cascaded towards his spine, crashed into his balls, and erupted through his cock. He pulled out of her and started spewing clingy white ropes of cum, which spattered her body and slid downwards through the puddles of water nestled atop her belly. The tingling and the spewing seemed to go on forever, but finally desisted. Brand watched the white strands swirl around in the water and sink down into the haze below. Basina floated away, reveling in sensation and dreaming of war.



Lady Sting Ch. 04



The next morning Regeneria arose in her yurt. Robeart and a guardsmen were awake and watching over her, with another sleeping nearby. Basina lay curled next to Brand. 

She stepped into the gray light of morning to find Garrick tending to a pot hanging from a tripod over the fire. He was reflective. Garrick fixed her with a long stare. "I see it all now. You have been at this your whole life. The years in my shop grappling with the guards. Your flight from us. And now you have raised an army." His pride in her swelled and she thought he would shed a tear. "'Eria, I have missed you girl." He took her up in a gruff hug. 

Robeart cleared his throat behind them. "Queen Regeneria, need I save you from this ruffian?" Garrick pulled away and shoved mugs into their hands. 

Braeden emerged from another yurt. He looked hale and lifted his arm in greeting. When he reached them he took a mug and sipped it quietly. He considered Regeneria for some time, then took a knee in front of her. 

"Your Highness, I wish to serve you as a field commander."

Regeneria was taken aback. She wasn't sure what to do. She picked up her axe and tapped it in her palm, thinking. Then she rapped him on the shoulder. "A field commander you shall be, then. Stand up, Commander Braeden." Regeneria turned to Robeart. "Now tell me, Captain... can this man fight?"

Braeden snorted but Robeart was thoughtful. "Braeden is next in line to command the Royal Guard. Of all my men, he is the one I'd least like to lose. But the Royal Guard will be rent regardless so best you get good men."

"Robeart, I trust you to guard Monrovius. Some of my children could use a stable home and would swell the Guard's ranks."

Robeart looked puzzled. "Your children?"

"We brigands call ourselves 'Children of the Living Tomb.' But in truth, some of these men long to have four walls and a roof again."

Basina and Brand emerged after some laughter and hushed admonitions to "be quiet." His arm was at her waist and she was aglow. At that moment, Regeneria sensed that Brand's unrequited longing for her had come to an end, and she was glad for him. 

Regeneria clapped her hands sharply. "Now for the task at hand. Brand, tell me where the lady assassins lay."

Brand sketched a spot in the sand which was a few hours downriver. Basina nodded. 

"Eat quickly, then," said Regeneria, "and let us depart. Robeart, Brand, Basina: accompany me to the twins. Garrick, you and the guardsmen shall oversee the muster of the men and our trains of goods. Think strategically, Garrick; the men remaining behind must feel they have ample wealth, but the rest must come with us. I will address the brigands and let them know to respect your word as my own."

Robeart was not pleased with the arrangement. "Highness, you and I together cannot fight off three assassins. Leave behind my guardsmen and you'll be dead ere this night." He peered pointedly at Basina.

"I'll not leave Garrick here alone. And Brand's men will accompany us. Brand is a scoundrel but if I cannot trust him, I cannot trust anyone, and I may as well fall on my own blade."

The preparations were soon made and the four set off, flanked by rogues who stole through the trees. Brand and Basina naturally paired off, as did Regeneria and Robeart. But none of them were jovial and all were vigilant. 

Eventually the group stopped when Brand raised a fist. He pointed to a thick copse of trees. "The women are there if I guess true," he whispered. Basina was looking upward into the branches. She spied a nest and was off in a flash. Robeart cursed and made to run after her but he was stopped by an arrow which whistled into the dirt at his feet. The three huddled behind a fallen oak, searching in vain for the archer. 

Some time passed in silence. Brand's men consulted with them and were preparing to scale the trees when Basina's voice rang out: "The axe!" From the treetops behind them came the twang of a bowstring and Robeart's axe was pinned to the oak by an arrow. "The rifle!" Again a bowstring reported and Brand's rifle was knocked from his hands. 

Basina called out again. "My next words could be 'the Queen.' I have her life in my hands. Yet I will not call for a third arrow. Stand down and allow Athene and Mellora to come forth."

Regeneria stood and walked into the open. "I long to meet them. Men, be seen and stand down. We parlay with these women."

The brigands emerged and lowered their weapons. From the treetops a lithe, tall woman shimmied down, a longbow at her back. Her hair was so blonde as to be white; it was braided into a ponytail which reached her lower back.

"Careful with that, Captain." The command drifted to Robeart through clenched teeth like a knife on the wind. He turned to find a rapier at his throat. It was attached to another lithe and tall woman, this one with waves of amber hair that tumbled down her back. Her long face began in a wide brow, crested over rounded cheekbones, and terminated in a pleasingly pointed chin. Her eyes turned down slightly at their pointed corners; flat, delicate brows topped them. They were deep hazel flecked with green, and rarely looked directly at anything. It was as though she continually favored her peripheral vision. Robeart dropped the francisca he had pried from the arrow's hold, noting the surety of her grip.

Basina and the archer walked towards the oak while the woman behind them sheathed her rapier. Regeneria met them and stood still in front of the pair. The fourth woman came round Basina to form a bookend along with her sister. The twins were each over six feet tall.

Basina gestured to the swordswoman and archer introduced them as Athene and Mellora. Athene nodded curtly, scanning the brigands as she did so. Mellora looked strikingly like her twin in stature and features. She also had a pleasingly tall face with graceful cheekbones and chin, a wide mouth, and delicate brows. The bridge of her nose was straight and peaked like a blade. But where Athene had color to her hair, Mellora had little. Her brows were so fine and fair as to be invisible. This left her dark blue eyes in the appearance of constant surprise. Unlike Athene, whose eyes never rested, Mellora gazed deep and true, and wavered not at all. 

Basina spoke. "Athene, Mellora, I believe our mission is at an end. King Sigobert is dead. Monrovious lives; the House Rupii Ilse still stands. But it is led by the woman before you."

Athene snapped round then and fixed her eyes directly on Regeneria. Her pupils widened as she drank in every detail of Regeneria's face and posture. Regeneria felt as though her soul had been pierced, but the feeling faded as Athene shifted her gaze back to the periphery. Mellora watched her placidly. "So this is the monarch of Rupii Ilse." The question was flat; emotionless.

Regeneria suddenly felt that all that stood between her and the grave was Basina's whim. The twins had shifted imperceptibly to draw a crosshair through Regeneria's heart. Regeneria had never been so close to death as she was at this moment, save for when Basina herself had shot darts at Monrovius. She stood firm and calm, but coiled herself. The men around her radiated tension and leaned towards their grounded weapons. The imminent melee was being fought millimeter by millimeter. 

Regeneria waved her head briefly from side to side. "Did I not tell you to stand down?" Her men settled once more. "These assassins came to pick off a weak House. They have killed my father. And I do not begrudge them. They have cleansed the dead flesh so that our wounds may heal!"

Athene favored Regeneria with another stare. Regeneria spoke again. "Basina has been in my care and can attest: I shall take Bohemia, be it through grace or gore. Those who walk with me shall find their path hard, and long. But at the end of that road sits the throne of High King Monrovius, who shall sing our praises to a united land."

Basina said nothing. Mellora turned to her sister. "This suits our purpose better -- if Basina relinquishes her thirst for the crown. For I would drink first from Basina's cup. Yet I will drink regardless."

Basina stepped forward and embraced Regeneria. She took Regeneria's head in her hands and kissed both cheeks. Then Basina turned to the twins with her arm linked in Regeneria's. "I stand side to side with Queen Regeneria and will see Monrovius crowned High King."

The twins looked at each other for a long moment. Then they each took a knee. Athene offered Regeneria the hilt of her sword; Mellora set down her quiver and bow. Regeneria took the sword and the quiver and kissed each, handing them back.

"Gather your things. We have much to do."

* * *

The return walk to Wohn-Grab was less quiet. Brand walked between Basina and Mellora, asking Mellora pointed questions about Basina's past lovers, to Basina's feigned embarrassment. Mellora actually laughed once or twice. Mellora looked younger when she laughed; the constant surprise in her eyes fit better this way and caused less disquiet. 

Athene was less jovial. She had thrown in her lot with Regeneria, but did not yet know her. The unknowns made her uncomfortable. She talked strategy with Robeart and Regeneria, scowling once or twice at Regeneria's answers. 

Regeneria stopped suddenly, stared at Athene, and whipped the edge of her hand under Athene's ear. Athene was already tilting her head under the blow and lanced out with a knee. But Regeneria was already around it, pummeling Athene's midriff with quick jabs. She then buckled Athene's knee and whipped her arm around the woman's neck, holding her in a death grip as she murmured quietly so only Athene could hear.

"I have already claimed your sword arm. But it is plain I must earn your heart and your trust. I cannot face you in ritual combat; your rapier would have my blood before my axe was even drawn. So what would you, Athene?"

Athene looked up to see that Basina had already felled Brand and was now restraining Mellora with a raised hand. Athene looked disgruntled at first, but then turned her face to the sky in a rictus of merriment. She broke down in hearty, melodic laughter. She laughed so hard she could not stop, and soon it spread. Brand came back to his feet and laughed until tears streamed from his eyes, punching Basina half-heartedly in retaliation. Robeart was guffawing and leaning against a tree. Mellora summoned a smile.

Athene stood and calmed herself. "I'm sorry, Queen Regeneria. I'm being a bitch." Finally, after days of mistrust, the tension had broken. 

As the group neared Wohn-Grab, they came across a large herd of horses retained in a temporary pen of rope and staves against the hillside. As they walked closer, several sentries appeared and escorted them into the cavern. Athene and Mellora were suitably impressed; Mellora by the beauty of the cavern, Athene by the size of the band and the strength of its supply. The ranks had swelled slightly; a couple of new yurts were set up and a several wagons were freshly arrived. One of the brigands hopped down from inspecting the goods when he spied Regeneria.

"The raid went well, Lady Sting!" he said brightly. "But I have some bad news to report."

"Tell me, Zizi." 

"Moors. They took the wagons before we did. Fortunately they drove right into the ambush we already had planned."

"They are ranging far, then, to have come up the coast and through the lands of our forebears."

"I thought you should know."

"The timing is good, perhaps. Now that the brigands have turned legitimate, Bohemia needs another ghost to say 'boo' to the people."

Zizi was puzzled at first then recovered. "Yes, I heard you are to be our new Queen."

"I am already, Zizi." She patted him on the shoulder and walked to Garrick. 

"We have some fair work to do, but the wagons will be ready soon enough. We can leave the morning after tomorrow."

"Perfect. I am itching to begin." She turned to Athene. "Come with me."

Regeneria led Athene to the grotto. She asked some of her men to keep guard on the trail and took Athene down to the water. Regeneria stripped to her linens and asked Athene to do the same. Athene's underclothes were much skimpier than Regeneria's, flimsy and made of silk. 

"I'll take you into these waters now. They can heal you if the current is right. It is best not to be clad."

"You didn't hit me all that hard, you know," said Athene. Indeed it was true. Regeneria had not meant to harm Athene. Athene was not wounded so much as impressed by how quickly Regeneria had incapacitated her. But she removed her underclothes anyway. Her breasts were tight against her body but dipped into a rounded W when she bent to remove her panties. Her snatch was crowned in amber curls that stood out.

Regeneria walked Athene into the water and pushed her down. Athene floated to the surface. Regeneria watched Athene's nipples stiffen into long, red peaks. She tasted the water and then lay back beside Athene. She took Athene's hand and the two floated together for a time, staring at the aqua ripples of reflected light on the ceiling. 

"I'm not here to heal you, but to ask: how would you like to be a lady-in-waiting? " 

Athene turned her head in the water to stare at Regeneria with incredulity. 

"I came here to end your line forever, and now you wish for me to wait on you?"

"The Franks have never once had a Queen sit on the Throne of War. History cannot guide us; we must make our own way. I can be surrounded by sheltered girls from the nobility, or surrounded by strong women who can protect me. You and your sister are an excellent start towards that end. It guarantees you will always be in the thick of battle." Athene said nothing but the idea seemed to please her.

When they returned from the grotto, they took food to a long table and ate. The rest of that day and most of the next was spent mustering goods and packing things away. Regeneria allowed Garrick and her brigand captains to oversee the exodus while she went among the men to gauge their tenor. 

She was finding that most of the women wished to stay behind, and found that certain men lingered nearby in agreement. The incorrigibles, ones who had no hope of fitting back into society, also wished to stay. Otherwise, the Children of the Living Tomb were eager to join her army and fight back at the houses of Bohemia.

Regeneria took this information back to Garrick, who was talking with Zizi. "I believe some wish to stay behind so that they can build homesteads in the wood. Some are simply never going to leave the criminal life. I fear for the homesteaders."

Garrick mused a bit. "You need to leave a surrogate leader behind to maintain order as you have done."

It was the obvious solution. Regeneria went to find Basina. She was nowhere to be seen. Regeneria thought and grinned to herself. She walked down the cavern to Brand's yurt. She listened at the entrance flap and grinned even wider as she listened to wet, slapping noises and low grunts. She walked in to find Brand, naked from head to ankles, thrusting his cock madly into Basina who was bent over a barrel. His pants were bunched around his ankles and the fingers of one hand were curled in her hair. The other hand was steadying Basina's waist. She was moaning with her eyes closed. Her breasts were swaying wildly in opposing orbits. Regeneria could see the curve of Basina's spine and the twin mounds of her upturned ass. A crimson flush was spreading over Basina's collarbone and face.

Brand noticed Regeneria and seemed startled. Regeneria pulled up her top, exposing her breasts to Brand. She hefted one tit and tongued her own nipple until it perked up. Brand's eyes widened in shock and he lurched backward, popping out of Basina's pussy with a slurp. His pisshole spasmed, spurting ropes of cum into the air and onto Basina's asscheeks. She opened her eyes in surprise and saw Regeneria. Basina slumped down on the barrel ruefully, covering her nose with her hands.

"Brand!" Regeneria barked sharply. "You cannot leave a woman unfinished like that! For shame!" Regeneria walked behind Brand and hugged him tight. She grabbed his prick at the base and pushed it back inside Basina. Brand's cock was not quite limp, and it stiffened at Regeneria's touch. When his cock bottomed out she ran her fingertip lightly over Basina's clit and ground her pelvis into Brand, urging him forward. He began thrusting again, but with diminished enthusiasm.

Regeneria walked around front to find Basina's eyes sparkling at her. "That is not pleasing her, Brand. Why not use your tongue? What say you, Basina?"

"Well, if the Queen commands it, we must obey." Basina was trying hard to stifle her laughter. Regeneria sat down in a chair and flicked her hand at Brand.

Brand was now quite red but he sank to his knees and spread the cheeks of Basina's ass. He slipped his tongue around her freshly fucked lips and lapped her clit. He sucked her crinkled brown labia into his mouth and mashed them around with his tongue. Regeneria saw only the blonde curls of his head bobbing behind Basina's thighs and heard only the wet sounds of his slurping.

Regeneria watched Basina's face change. Her eyes grew unfocused and her lips drew back. Soon she was moaning and moving her body backwards onto Brand's tongue. Finally she crested into a drawn-out orgasm. The splotches of color faded from her breastbone and she grinned at Regeneria. 

"Excellent! Now if you will excuse us I needs discuss matters with Basina." Brand wrinkled his nose at her as he dressed. "You give good sport, Brand. Basina is lucky to have an indulgent lover such as you."

The two left the yurt and went to a nearby table. Regeneria made her plea.

"Basina, I shall soon leave behind Wohn-Grab and the Children of the Living Tomb. In our wake shall remain two groups: incorrigible murderers and relatively harmless men and women who wish to make homes free of tyranny. 

My will has stayed much violence and my blade has stifled more. This lot needs a strong hand. It would ease my mind and strengthen our cause if the Children of the Living Tomb were to thrive under your leadership."

Basina thought this through. Her eyes grew hard with memory. But then her face softened. "I have dreams to conquer this land and become High Queen. But I know that will not come to pass. My climb was always uphill. Your road may be easier."

Basina stared at the table. "It is hard to let a dream die, but sadder still to live a life striving in vain. Here I have a clear purpose and a small kingdom of my own. I swear to keep the roads unsafe at your command." 

This last was laced with the danger that often lurked in Basina's voice. It sent a shiver through Regeneria. She was relieved. "Do you swear also to keep Brand's cock stuffed in your pussy?"

Basina burst into laughter and punched Regeneria in the shoulder. The blow landed like a hammer.

Regeneria headed back to Garrick but was intercepted by Zizi. "Shall I pack your yurt, Lady Sting?"

"Nein, Zizi. It shall remain for the next lady." Regeneria then snapped to a drummer and sent up the call. After some time, most of the brigands had gathered at the mossy knoll.

"I have given each of you a choice. I now call upon you to make it!"

Regeneria pointed to the wagon train assembled near the entrance. "This train leaves tomorrow for Rupii Ilse in preparation for war. If you wish to join that fight, and show Bohemia what it means to be a Frank, step to that side of the cavern. If you wish to remain behind, lead the life of a brigand, step towards the cooking fires. Know that many roads will be closed and you will raid at my command. So in truth things will be much the same for you. Now walk forth! Make your choice."

Regeneria estimated that four thousand men were in the cavern. Of them, over three thousand stepped to the wagons. One thousand, roughly a third of them women, walked to the fires. As the group rent asunder, Regeneria was touched to see Moshii among the last. He looked to the wagons and looked to the fires, and finally decided to remain a brigand. 




Lady Sting Ch. 04



Regeneria called Basina to her side and the pair walked over to address the smaller crowd. "You have flourished under the touch of a woman's blade." Loud guffaws and catcalls flew at her. "Knowing you lot as I do, the moment I leave there will be a bloodbath deciding who should take charge next." This quieted the men, many of whom had been scheming along those lines. "So I have a surprise for you. This woman is Basina." Many of the eyes on her were radiating with unwholesome lust. "She infiltrated the Manor Rupii Ilse and slit King Sigobert's throat with nary a whisper. She then remained in the Manor right under the nose of the Royal Guard and nearly took down the Crown Prince and myself. So when I tell you that she can handle you better than I myself can, believe it." 

Basina stepped forth, regal and hard with purpose. Her eyes flashed and her low voice brimmed with more menace than Regeneria had yet heard. 

"War is coming to these lands. We will be ever before it or riding in its wake. We will move like shadows over Bohemia and beyond, plundering and sowing chaos. Endanger my cause and you will taste a blade from the inside out." Not one gathered brigand doubted her. 

The crowds dispersed then and Regeneria looked long at Basina. "He is a tough man to take, but do not dispatch Moshii. He is a blunt voice who speaks for the unsavory ones; he telegraphs the tenor of the men. Treat him as you would a soothsayer's tea leaf." She then hugged Basina, who discreetly ran a fingertip along Regeneria's cleft and fondled her clit through the fabric. 

"Take care, Queen Regeneria." Her voice was a low and throaty, a promise layered over a threat. The sound tickled through Regeneria's ear and landed in the pit of her stomach.

Basina then turned to assess her new charges. Regeneria went to her new army. She walked among men she had fought and schemed beside for years, but now she saw them in a new light. She saw them as soldiers ready to fight and die for a cause. She saw a yearning for legitimacy and approval in their eyes. 

She found Robeart and leaned into him. "I'm horny. When can we train?"

Robeart regarded her with an inscrutable expression. He thought of the things she had gone through and her bravery facing the assassins. "Now is not the best time, but I suppose I could take you through a few things."

They walked to the patch of dirt in front of her yurt. They stopped and squared off. "Do you know what a fingerlock is, Regeneria?" Regeneria looked puzzled. She held out her hand, took his, and wrapped her fingers into his joints, pulling downward on his hand to cause pain. "Very good. Oh well, I guess we're done here." Regeneria grasped what he was playing at and laughed.

Robeart scooped her into his arms and over his shoulder. She pummeled him viciously in the back and slid off his shoulders sideways as they entered the yurt. Its floor was covered in spongy moss and animal hides. Regeneria punched Robeart again hard in the side, which he mostly blocked. When she stepped towards him Robeart punched her hard and straight in the gut, winding her. Regeneria staggered and lashed out at him with a kick, which he caught and twisted. She tripped and fell into the moss, gasping for air like a landed fish. 

"Put your arms over your head, Regeneria. You'll be able to breathe easier that way." He coaxed her arms over her head and kissed her on the lips. She continued to pant while he lifted her shirt hem and sucked gently at her breasts, tonguing her nipples into wrinkles that felt delectably rough under his tongue. Through her stunned pain, she felt his sucks tugging at some primitive place in her brain. He licked the sides of her breasts and then worked down over her belly. He pulled down her pants and found her pussy boiling hot and absolutely soaked. 

Robeart didn't even bother with foreplay. He shucked down his pants, nestled his prickhead inside her parted lips, and plunged inside with one thrust. She arched her back and thrust her hips forward. Robeart worked in long, slow strokes, thrusting in fast but taking his time sliding out. Each lunge of his cock was a new violation, which Regeneria both fought and longed for. Robeart rearranged her on the mossy bed so he could get his finger to her clit. He fondled one nipple while he coated a finger in her lubrication and rounded her clit with it. The angle seemed to please her and Regeneria started gasping in pleasure with his thrusts. Shortly he had fucked her through one, then two, then three orgasms until she was tapped out. None of it took very long because she was so worked up. Her pussy was loose and hot around his prick.

He rolled off of her and lay on the bed-floor. The bear pelt felt great on his naked skin so he took off the rest of his clothes and stretched out. He thought Regeneria would fall asleep so he gave her some space. But she picked up a soft white pelt from the floor and wrapped herself up in it. Robeart's cock was still hard. Regeneria knelt on the floor before him and reached out with a corner of the fur. She cupped his balls softly in a furry nest and rubbed them around. The tickling sensation was not sharp, but pleasing and slippery. She wrapped the fur around his cockshaft, slid it up and down, and tickled his glans with it, which made his cock jump. 

Regeneria settled back on her knees and leaned over Robeart to breathe hotly in his ear. "Don't tell anyone about this, Captain. We can't have the men thinking their Queen is a cock sucking whore." She then planted kisses down his body, making sure that her breasts scraped against his flesh as she moved down. When her tits reached the head of his prick, she slowed and let her breasts fall to each side of his shaft. Regeneria wriggled her ribcage down his body, worming his cock through the swells of her breasts. Suddenly Robeart felt her hair cascade around his abdomen and felt his cock pop into her mouth. She held it there a moment, nursing on the head with long, wet sucks. Then her lips inched their way down, agonizingly, delightfully slowly. 

She popped back up with a start and plunged her mouth back onto his prick. Robeart felt her nipples sliding around on his thighs. She did this twice more and then Robeart was cumming. He shot spasm after spasm into her mouth, listening to her swallowing sounds and feeling the vibrations of her throat muscles around his cock. He eked out one last spurt and his cock deflated a bit. 

Regeneria continued to rub his balls with the corner of the snow-white fur she was wearing. Robeart reached up and felt the suede covering her back. He curled around her with two edges of the pelt and cupped Regeneria's tits. The rough suede in his hands contrasted with the slipperiness of the fur against the jiggle of her delectable breasts. Her nipples flicked up and down under his moving fingers. She brought him back to hardness with her fur massage and then straddled him. She nestled his cock inside her and plunged down, grinding her pelvis around on his thighs. She humped him, and gasped, and came. Then she was done and lay back to rest.



Lady Sting Ch. 05



That evening was bittersweet. Anything perishable was served at supper, which included many casks of ale; ordinarily this would have led to debauchery and merriment. But tonight the brigands were subdued and focused on their uncertain futures. An undercurrent of sadness reigned as friends and rivals parted ways.

Regeneria was impervious to the mood, focused on the future, and the next morn could not come soon enough. Huddled in council with her captains, she laid out a strategy for harrying the tribes on the fringes of Bohemia. Regeneria plotted her route in the sand, with Moshii and Zizi grunting advice on occasion. It soon became clear that the brigands and fledgling army would not be enough to take the realm.

"Then hear this!" Regeneria urged in excitement. She detailed a different plan, one that relied more on intimidation and guile. As the gathered captains listened and watched the light shine in her eyes, they grew convinced.

"For this to work, I need battle hymns, uniforms, and commanders to lead the song. Braeden, you are the first of my field commanders. Zizi, do you wish to parlay and become a field commander?" Zizi nodded enthusiastically. "Then it is settled. A pity, Brand, that you remain behind. We shall get more from the Royal Guard upon our return."

As she said this, Regeneria's felt a tap on the shoulder. She turned and found her minder looking at her with a trace of irritation. He was a few years older than she, tall and fit. His dark hair had a trace of curl. Thick, dark eyebrows swooped over unwavering eyes of grayish blue. A hawkish nose defined his rectangular face. Deep dimples ran like gashes down to his chin, which was riven by a striking cleft. 

Regeneria had not truly considered the man before now. She had dismissed him as an inconvenience and mocked him, and hardly given him a thought. But he had followed her every command without a word of dissent, born Braeden through the woods, and faced the brigands. Ever had he lurked in her wake and scanned for threats. She sized him up and realized that she had overlooked him precisely because that is what he'd intended. Now she found him calm, deadly, and a little intimidating.

"Yes, guardsman?"

"I am Ernst Luxeme. I have watched you these past days and wish to join the fight."

"Have you led men in battle before, Ernst?"

"I am an officer in the guard, but I have not tasted war." Robeart stood to the side with his arms crossed, watching the unfolding discussion.

"Ernst, I doubt not your valor nor skill, but I need men who can lead other men into the red heart of battle. Braeden is a seasoned warrior and second in command of the guard. Zizi has led many campaigns for me. What reference do you have?"

"None, Highness. Nevertheless, consider me." He walked off then into the crowd of drunken Brigands.

The night wore on and Regerneria said goodbye to the homesteaders. She also sized up the raiding party left behind, peopled by the most incorrigible men she knew. They were four hundred strong, merciless and jaded, and held no love at all for the realm that had marginalized them. They could yet cause mayhem as Regeneria's vanguard.

Moshii and his gargantuan shadow -- a dim witted hulk of a man named Wonke -- caught Regeneria sizing them up. Wonke stepped forward and stuck his giant finger against Regeneria's forehead, then touched his own. He giggled to himself and shuffled behind Moshii.

"It's a sorry lot, but we make it up in ire. Don't trouble your mind on us, Lady. Had we our way you'd've been dead by now, or an unwilling mother four times over." 

When she returned to the crowded tables, Regeneria heard a ruckus. Crowds of men were gathered around, clumped in groups nearly three hundred strong. Each group commanded a corner of the training ground. Rough laughter punctuated the buzz of whispering and humming. As Regeneria approached, Garrick and Zizi cleared their throats loudly and gestured wildly to the men. Everyone stopped speaking and Zizi raised his arm.

"Lady Sting!" he declared loudly, in a voice dripping with faux arrogance. "Whilst you have been flitting about your courtiers, engaged in intrigues and court gossip, we hard-working men have prepared three battle songs in your honor. And now, lads, let us charm the lady with our dulcet voices!" A guffaw ran through the men. Zizi's group broke into a low chant:

"From the Living Tomb we pour

like wasps we thirst for blood and gore.

Brandishing our bright blades high

we let them fly and blot the sky.

Goading us is Lady Sting

she'll stop for tea then kill your King.

Should our Lady blow a kiss

kneel to her or find amiss

your castles and your homes.

For they'll become your tombs."

At this last, Regeneria felt her neck hairs rise and her nipples stiffen. By now, every soul in Wohn-Grab was looking her way. She knelt to the choir and they cheered. 

The second group shuffled as Commander Braeden stepped forth. Without a word he raised his arm then let it fall. The men began to sing. In contrast to the rough darkness of the former chant, this song lifted her spirit and tore at her heart. It was delicately composed, far too intricate to have been conceived that eve:

"A mighty fortress, Living Tomb, a bulwark never failing;

We leave it now to fight the flood of mortal ills prevailing:

For still our Lady's foes doth seek to work us woe;

Her craft and power are great, and, armed with cruel hate,

On earth is not her equal.

Did we in our own strength confide, our striving would be losing;

Were not the Lady on our side, her sting forever bruising:

Dost ask who that may be? Regeneria is she;

Lady Sting her name, all foes befall her aim,

And thus she wins the battle."

When this song had ceased, Regeneria was truly moved. Wet tears shone in her eyes. She bowed and then blew the men a kiss. The assembled crowd was mute, stunned into reflection by the battle hymn.

"Commander Braeden, I had no idea you were such an accomplished composer!" 

"I am not. Was Brand who provided the song."

Regeneria scanned the men for a sign of Brand. He disentangled himself from the crowd and moved to meet her. "A parting gift, Lady Sting." Brand tried to mask his awkwardness. 

"I do not know what to say. Brand, I am truly moved." The two stayed quiet awhile, then she wrapped him in a hug. He whispered into her ear. 

"A trifle I composed here, entertaining notions of singing it to you one day. We changed the words a bit, of course. The original is much more racy."

Regeneria sobbed in laughter and held Brand. She wiped her cheek and swatted him on the rear, sending him away. This raised catcalls and jeers from the crowd. They were banished when Ernst Luxeme leaped clear of the third group, brandishing an axe and spinning a wide circle on his heel. The song pranced from the throats of his group: 

"Sloshing through the snow

greeting the grim day,

o'er the hills we go 

fighting all the way. 

Hands through hearts we swing,

making our blades bright. 

We live on to march and sing 

a slaying song tonight!

Oh! Lady Sting, Lady Sting, 

Lady through and through,

Axes, poles, heads will roll

When she lays eyes on you."

The cavern was awash in applause and cheers at this last song. Ernst made stiff, exaggerated bows to the brigands, earning hoots and cackles. Through the merriment, Regeneria noticed that Ernst had handpicked many of her best men. They were gathered at his back, red-faced and slapping each other.

The emotion of the moment washed over her and Regeneria thought back to the days after she'd fled Manor Rupii Ilse. 

At first the months had been wonderful. She roamed the forest, eating berries, fish, and root vegetables browned in hot coals. She swam when she liked, and slept when she liked. 

Regeneria kept her mind limber through practicing craft. She went through the unarmed combat forms that Garrick and the guardsmen had taught her. She hunted game with spears. Her feet throbbed miserably at first, but soon enough the delicate skin sloughed off and grew calloused.

Yet Regeneria grew lonely and started to explore. She had lost her way one evening and was looking for a place to settle when she heard a deafening crash nearby. The ground shook; she was stunned at its fury. She followed a dry riverbed and found a recent rift in the rocks. A sharp tang wafted in her nostrils as she noticed chunks of powdered, white rock. Timid, but burning with curiosity, Regeneria wormed her way recklessly into the rift. There, with the dying light of the evening sun, she saw the cavern for the first time and was amazed. 

Regeneria fell asleep curled on moss and watching the sun set through the holes in the cavern ceiling. The next morning she heard voices, muffled echoes from the rocks. 

"I tell you, Grit, it came from around here somewhere." Regeneria peered through the rift in the cavern wall and saw three rough men emerge from the treeline. 

"Hmm, nothing up here, Lewe," rejoined the second. A third man, wicked, said nothing. The three circled around, searching. Regeneria was suddenly terrified that the men would discover the cavern, which she had claimed in her mind as her own. She grabbed her spear and sneaked out of the rift, edging around the men and entering the forest. She went deeper into the wood and looked for suitable tree to climb so she could spy on them. As she turned to look, rough hands knocked the spear from her grip and held her arms fast.

Lewe leered at his catch. "Look at this, boys. I caught a mouse." Grit and the grim man were there in a breath. Grit's eyes lit up but the other's stayed hard in his skull. 

Grit pulled a knife and tossed it from palm to palm. Then he rent her dress with its edge, forcing exposed her budding bosom and awkward legs. She closed her knees involuntarily and tucked her abdomen back. Lewe used this opportunity to goose Regeneria, roughly fondling her ass from behind. Lewe laughed while Grit muttered "Well, maybe this trip won't be a waste after all. Hold her down, Lewe."

Lewe shoved Regeneria towards Grit in an angry retort. "You hold her down! I found her!" Lewe started shucking his pants. Regereria was awhirl. She knew she was about to be raped, and likely dumped in the clearing for the carrion to find.

At that moment her mind was calm. Regeneria casually watched her palm lance out. Grit's lips were starting to form a nasty comeback to Lewe, but the reply was halted as Reneneria's palm forced his teeth through his lower lip. Grit's head snapped back. Regeneria marveled at his Adam's apple while her left fist crushed into it, buckling his throat. 

A nasty wheeze emerged from the man as Regeneria spun. Lewe's eyes were round and his hands were scrambling at his belt as he stepped back. The base of his cock was just peering out among wiry black hairs. It shivered mightily and the hairs seemed to quake; Regeneria noted that her foot had just connected with Lewe's groin.

Then real time returned to her. Regeneria simultaneously heard more wheezing from Grit as he clawed at his throat, and agonizing cries of "You bitch!" from Lewe as he hopped around and fell over. 

Regeneria grabbed her spear and stood over Lewe, who continued to writhe on the ground but had stopped screaming. She looked into his pupils as she thrust the spear into his neck, then again twice more until the life left his eyes. She felt a searing pain in her shoulder. Regeneria whirled and cut into Grit, then jabbed quickly with repeated thrusts. Tiny slits appeared in his abdomen and sides, which bubbled over with blood. Grit looked at the sky then tumbled into a heap.

The third man had merely watched. He had a francisca at the ready, but was not moving in. Regeneria faced off against him with her spear raised. "Leave me alone," she trembled. The man jaunted backwards a few paces then faded into the wood.

Regeneria waited a time, pulling Grit's knife from her shoulder. She walked around the wood then crept silently back into the rift. She walked through the middle of the cavern, stumbling twice over rocks and falling hard. Regeneria finally sat on a mossy knoll and started to cry, hugging her knees and rocking back and forth. But from the knoll she spied a hint of blue light and heard the trickle of water. 

Regeneria followed the sound and crested the rise seeing the sight that would change her life forever. She waded into the pool, letting her ripped dress fall away, and floated among writhing streaks of aquamarine. Her mind left her body for a time, watching herself float in the glowing, azure water. When she returned to her body, it felt less worn. She swam out of the pool and returned to the clearing. 

Regeneria found the men as she had left them. She removed their shoes and clothes, setting aside weapons and other trinkets. She took the clothes that fit her best to a nearby stream and washed them with sand, then laid them on a rock in the sun. As the clothes dried, Regeneria disguised the inside of the cavern rift with stones and giant sheets of mossy bark, creating the illusion of a rockfall on a shallow hillside. She arranged the bodies of the dead men artfully, then painted their chests in blood: LEAVE ME ALONE. 

But they did not leave her alone. Four men came at dawn the next day, led by the wicked man. They looked solemnly at the corpses then hauled them away on biers. As they left the clearing, Regeneria heard one man speak to the leader.

"She's long gone by now, Moshii. Let's just keep an eye out and be on our way." 

"I'm not so sure," grunted the wicked man, "so we keep looking."

Regeneria snapped back to the present and listened to the groups of singers taunt each other. That night, Regeneria found herself in her yurt facing Brand and Basina. Regeneria wondered if she had been wrong to keep Brand at arm's length all these years. But had she not, would she still be alive today? Giving in to sex might have burst the dam in the minds of her men. In her time among the brigands, all who tried her had met death. Perhaps her cool distance had fanned Brand's passion for her.

Regeneria was mute. She merely stood and watched Brand and Basina, then the yurt, then her own hands. Basina took those hands and led her over to Brand. His eyes were shining as he took Regeneria in his arms. He kissed her forehead, then her eyelids, and then her mouth. Soon his tongue was writhing with hers. Basina stroked Regeneria's back, and Brand's, murmuring incoherent encouragement.

Hardly daring to breathe, Brand reached out to caress Regeneria. He took her breast in his trembling hand and kneaded it gently. Regeneria took his other hand and placed it over her other breast. Relief lightened Brand's face and he grew bolder. His hands slithered under her tunic hem and up her ribcage. His fingers climbed her breasts, flanking her nipples. Brand squeezed the nubs sharply between his knuckles as he palmed her titflesh. 

Basina was casually worming her hand under Regeneria's clothes along her ass. She cupped Regeneria's mons then diddled her finger inside her dampening snatch. Basina's fingertip glanced gently against Regeneria's clit, causing it to stiffen slightly. Regeneria relaxed and sighed. Basina pushed Regeneria's riding tunic over her head. The linens came next, leaving Regeneria barefoot in breeches and nothing else. Basina knelt before the generous globes of Regeneria's ass, inviting beneath the brown cloth, and fondled them as she cupped her tongue into the curve at the base of Regeneria's spine. Basina rose, moving her tongue slowly up Regeneria's spine as Regeneria had done to her in the cell. Basina had to part the long tresses of copper curls and noticed goosebumps at the base of Regeneria's neck.

Brand was dumbstruck at the sight of Regeneria's bared body. Her gray-green eyes, so often scornful and hard, were now unfocused. Her nipples were crinkling of their own accord, goosebumps radiating outwards around her breasts. Brand cupped one and tongued it, suckling the supple peak deep into his mouth. Regeneria curled her hand into his hair and gripped his head to her breast. Brand fed like a baby bird, greedily gobbling her titflesh deep into his mouth.

Regeneria gasped and pushed him away. Florid and panting, nostrils flaring, she wavered between Brand and Basina. She settled on Brand and squared to him, shoving him hard in the chest. Brand flew back and fell onto a low ottoman piled with furs. Regeneria was on him instantly, ripping his clothes away and nipping at his exposed flesh. She chewed on his shoulder, then tongued a nipple roughly while she yanked down her pants. An acrid tang permeated the tent. 

Brand's arm hairs stood on end when the scent reached his brain. He viciously yanked Regeneria's hair, directing her slurping lips as they trailed down his body. His prick was straining against his breeches, his prickhead sliding around in a damp cocoon of its own slime. 

Regeneria released his prick from its confinement and let it slap her in the forehead. Her breath was hot on Brand's abdomen. She clamped down her lips on his belly and suckled, drawing a bruise before she wrapped her tongue around the base of his cock. Regeneria slurped noisily up his shaft, slowing down to tongue the mushroom base of his prickhead. Brand grabbed her head and plunged his cock deep into her mouth. 

As Brand fucked her mouth, Regeneria felt dampness on her asscheek. She felt it again, this time on the other side. Then she felt wetness on both globes of her ass. Brand watched in rapt lust as Basina teased him, leaning over Regeneria. She lifted her right nipple to her mouth and sucked it, then let it fall with a wet slap on Regeneria's upturned ass while she tongued the left. She shimmied and let her breasts slide around on Regeneria's ass, smirking at Brand all the while.

Regeneria grew tired of slurping cockflesh and let Brand pop out of her mouth. She stood to face Basina, who whistled innocently at the ceiling. Regeneria snorted, but the flush of lust did not leave her face. She moved in to embrace Basina's nude form. It was Regeneria's turn to tremble as she reached to caress Basina's distinct, light brown areola. Basina's breasts were simply stunning; Regeneria was soon devouring them. 

Regeneria gripped the nape of Basina's neck. She toungued her way up Basina's breast, over her collarbone and neck. When she reached Basina's ear she whispered into it delicately: "Let's give Brand a parting treat. His song touched me and I would repay him." She whispered her plan and Basina laughed. 

The two ladies turned as one and regarded Brand. Then they each took an arm, picked him up from the ottoman, and moved him away from it. Regeneria thew cushions on the ground in front of the ottoman. The women knelt and bent over it, exposing themselves to Brand. Basina reached over to spread the lips of Regeneria's pussy, revealing her shining pink center wreathed in reddish brown curls. Regeneria rubbed Basina's ass and then slid her fingers deep into her snatch, parting the crinkled brown lips wide. Asses upthrust, holding open each other's cuntlips, the women fixed Brand with a come-hither stare.

Brand moved forward in a daze. He rested his hands on their bodies and dipped his fingers inside. He coated his cockhead with their mixed fluids and stepped behind Basina. He had to kneel only slightly; they were at a perfect height. Brand rubbed his prick around Basina's cuntlips then dipped it inside her. He took a few lubricating strokes then slipped out. 

Brand moved over and knelt behind Regeneria. He moved his nose into the damp orbit of Regeneria's snatch, tickling his nose with her cunt hairs while he inhaled deeply. His tongue snaked out and wormed its way into her body. She tasted sharp and delicious to him. Brand stood, gripped Regeneria's hips, and plunged inside her. Regeneria cried out and bucked against him. Brand fucked in and out of her, rocking his thighs in time with her movements. 




Lady Sting Ch. 05



Brand then teased the women. He popped his prick in and out of them at random, enjoying the subtle differences in heat and wetness between Regeneria and Basina. While he fucked Basina, Brand fingered Regeneria. While he fucked Regeneria, he pinched Basina's ass and tickled her clit.

Eventually Brand could not last. He mounted Regeneria in earnest and forced his engorged cock deep into her body. She groaned while Brand slapped his thighs against her ass, grinding his cock in and out, milking sensation from the walls of her cunt. Basina stood behind him and cupped his asscheeks. She murmured dangerous things into Brand's ear; her voice was a blade. Basina hinted at the darkness in Brand's soul, the vulnerability and depravity of the girl impaled on his cock. She whispered of unfathomable pleasures to come. 

Regeneria could not heard Basina's words, but the tone itself made Regeneria's clit stiffen and her nipples tingle. When Brand yanked his sputtering cock from her to spew hot fluid across her back, Regeneria was already cresting the rise. She shuddered and came hard, bucking and trembling while she curled her fingers into the furs on the ottoman. 

Brand and Regeneria looked long at each other, thinking unfathomable thoughts. They smiled as one and cornered Basina. She struggled against them, laughing as they threw her like a ragdoll onto the ottoman. The pair pounced, attacking her with their mouths and hands, and soon Basina's throes of orgasm joined their own.



Lady Sting Ch. 06



Morning began cold and dark. The cavern was restless with gear checking and whispered goodbyes. As soon as Regeneria was dressed and fed, she moved to the train of wagons. This trip would be short and their numbers were strong, but Regeneria was on edge.

Basina and Brand met Regeneria and said redundant goodbyes. Then Regeneria motioned to the wagons, which proceeded orderly from the cavern. Regeneria and Basina turned their backs to each other and walked separate ways. The colony of brigands slowly rent in two as the wagons emptied from the cavern.

Regeneria mounted a horse and moved up the train. Zizi, Garrick, and Braeden were also mounted, riding among the men who walked beside the wagons. Ernst and his fellow guardsman walked near the middle of the train, surrounded by the singers he'd coaxed into joining him. 

Robeart soon caught up to Regeneria on a horse. "We can be heard for miles," he said. Regeneria nodded and called to Zizi and Braeden. 

"We need scouting flanks on either side of the wagon train. If anyone is out there, I need to know it."

Brigands fanned out and melted into the wood. Cold seeped under their clothes. It was quiet and clear, the blue sky brightening as the sun rose in the sky. Up front, some of Braeden's men were singing:

"Dost ask who that may be? Regeneria is she; Lady Sting her name, all foes befall her aim, And thus she wins the battle.""

At that moment a sharp whistle rang out from the wood to their left. Braeden wheeled his horse around and readied his axe. A man ran from the wood and stopped before them, panting: "Moors, riding up hard." His words had barely fallen when a rain of short arrows swished forth. The scout fell, two arrows protruding from his back. A horse bolted, causing a wagon to tilt precariously. 

Regeneria sat upright in her saddle and yelled out: "Braeden, the flank! Zizi, the wagons! Every enemy dies lest our stores be discovered!"

Braeden urged his men into the wood. More arrows fell and some found flesh; men screamed. Zizi steered the horses right, pointing the rear of the wagons to the approaching enemies. Then the Moors came charging forward on foot, some on mighty horses, sweeping at the brigands with cutlasses. 

Regeneria's army fell naturally into their roles. As Braeden's men made for the wood, Zizi's men lay down cover fire. Mellora nestled in the vee between two wagons. The report of her bow thrummed low and constant; Moors were falling to her by the handful. Athene had engaged a cluster of footsoldiers. Her rapier whipped and jabbed, felling foes with ease. But the battle was not in their hands. These Moors were hard fighters with the light of desperation in their eyes. They were also well trained and had already felled many of Regeneria's men. 

Regeneria engaged the riders. Her francisca whirled and bit into horseflesh and torsos. The battle was a cacophony of motion and sound to her. She ducked and swooped through the heart of it, shattering bone and severing limb. Regeneria came back to reality when she realized she was cut off from the train. She was encircled by Moors, with nearby skirmishes in the wood and near the train. Sheer reflex and skill had carried her, but now the Moors were circling, ready to end her. 

Ernst Luxeme charged forward, leading a phalanx of brigands. They pierced the throng of riders, surrounding Regeneria's horse and swirling their axes high to engage the mounted men. Their ferocity surprised the raiding Moors. Ernst circled his fist overhead and a rain of spears surged from his rearguard while the foreguard ducked. This move caught the Moors off guard and many of them fell, skewered. 

By this time Mellora had scaled the wagons and was sniping at the remaining raiders. She was joined by dozens of brigands with rifles and spears. Facing a hail of missiles from above, the mounted Moors retreated and called their footsoldiers back. Braeden's men, now entrenched in the wood, whittled away at the retreat and stalled it.

Athene called from atop a horse and Mellora leaped down, clasping her hands around Athene's waist. Athene surged forward, running down the retreating raiders. Robeart joined her, grabbing two spears from the ground on the way. The two horses galloped into the wood and Regeneria urged her steed to intercept them. Braeden's men had felled most of the remaining footsoldiers but the handful of mounted men broke through, charging up a slope to get free of the battle. 

Robeart nosed ahead of Athene, pulled up his steed, and let his francisca fly. It cleaved the air and landed in the rump of a retreating horse, which buckled and threw its rider. He then stood on the back of his steed and let a spear fly. It sliced into the shoulder of another rider. Robeart's second spear missed its mark, but Mellora had found her range and picked off three of the retreating men. Only one was left, and he was about to make the ridge. But Regeneria was riding hard behind him, urging her lighter horse up the hillside. Just as the man crested the ridge, clear blue sky framing him, Regeneria hurled her francisca. It caught him in the neck and he spun out of his saddle, clutching at his wound feebly. 

Regeneria caught up and pulled her axe from the man's throat. She rode down the hillside, stopping to finish off a couple of the fallen men. As they wended their way back to the train, Athene stabbed each Moor with her rapier to test for malingerers. The battle had decisively ended.

While brigands gathered riderless horses, the field commanders huddled in conference with Regeneria. Ernst sat nearby cleaning his blade. Regeneria called him over. "Commander Ernst, shouldn't you be over here? " Ernst gave a smirk, bowed, and walked over.

"How many men did we lose?" Regeneria asked. The count was roughly forty men. Sixty more were wounded. The captains planned a retreat of the walking wounded, and sent two riders back to Wohn-Grab to summon spare wagons for the seriously injured. 

The group agreed that their losses had been minimal. They surmised that the capable armed defense of the train had been a surprise to the Moors, who were desperate and looking for a quick haul. Nevertheless, Regeneria was keen to get the train inside Manor Rupii Ilse. The wagons regrouped and the train moved forward at speed. 

They were soon in range of the Manor so Regeneria, Garrick, and Robeart rode forward of the train. Regeneria was pleased to note that men patrolled the outer wall, which showed signs of recent repair. Many of the windows had stout oaken battens in place. Gardens had been razed and roadways cleared of miscellany. The manor appeared more serious about its own defense.

Her train of goods and men was rousing attention. People poured from buildings to stare in curiosity. Caught between amazement and horror they stared at the rough men with bloodstained clothes and fierce scowls. They noted the splatters of blood across Regeneria's clothes and were subdued.

The brigands were equally nervous. Many looked about them in trepidation, fearing immediate retribution for the crimes they had committed. Some of the men had not seen a village for years, much less the burgeoning city that was Manor Rupii Ilse. 

Soon the wagon train had pooled inside the base of the outer wall which separated the city from the wood. The men hauled yurts to a giant lawn that nestled against the outer wall, away from the houses and shops. Daylight waned, casting ruddy warm glows over the brigands and heightening the colors of their clothes and the grass. In that moment the men seemed heroic, romantic even.

Regeneria and her entourage rode through the city and inner wall to the front portico. The Lord Chamberlain and Marquess Illona were waiting with Prince Monrovius, who was flanked by a quadrant of armed guardsmen. Marquess Illona marked Regeneria's bloodstained countenance and winced. Prince Monrovius spoke up. "Welcome home, sister. We have heard of your army and the might of its supply. You shall have to tell me that story."

"I will do but first I need know: how fares the Manor?" The Lord Chamberlain assured her that the house was in order.

"Very well. Then let me introduce my companions. First, meet Commander Zizi. Along with guardsmen Braeden and Ernst Luxeme, Zizi is a field commander in my army. He shall be the liaison between my soldiers and the Manor." 

The Lord Chamberlain nodded curtly to Zizi and gave a look to Garrick. But Regeneria was already moving on. "And these women are Athene and Mellora. They shall join my ladies-in-waiting. Marquess Illona, I implore you make them welcome. Their road has been long."

Illona took in the field-worn clothes and myriad weapons carried by the women and nodded. "As you wish, Queen Regeneria. I shall find them quarters. As for that, shall you retire to your chambers? I imagine your road was hard."

"It was. We were beset by raiders, Moors from the shores of Africa. I lost forty men on the way. I could use a change of clothes and some food."

Regeneria beckoned to the twins who fell in beside her. Illona and the ladies-in-waiting followed as they walked into Regeneria's quarters. When she entered the antechamber, Regeneria stopped still and looked around her in wonder.

The antechamber was no longer sterile. The ghost of her mother had fled from its walls. Long tables had been set up and stocked with weapons. Regeneria's bow and quiver were there, with flights of arrows resting upright in long blocks of wood. Gleaming franciscas were arranged in a fan on one table. A rack of spears stood against the wall. In the corner, a wooden octagon had been constructed and filled with earth and straw. A training dummy stood ready in its center.

The greatest wonder was on the mannequin where the poofy blue dress had once been. In its place was her mother's fencing leathers, which Regeneria had dismantled in order to face Captain Robeart. The garment was now improved from her rough hewn attempt. The edges were finished and burnished. The dog collar had been replaced by a high column of stiff, ribbed leather. It parted in a vee at the throat, where a lozenge of amber rested just above the bust. Linen, dyed black, formed a fitted underskirt to give Regeneria some room to move. Black linen bows accented the sleeves. The refinements created a daunting feminine allure, but retained the functionality of armor. Next to the dress on a table were knee-high, black leather boots, polished to a low sheen. A black satin pillow held a silver-plated francisca with a wrapped leather grip and the fine silver circlet of her crown. 

Regeneria felt a lump in her throat and her heart pounded in her ears. The people had accepted her as their martial surrogate, even before she had marched home with an army of brigands. The thought made her wet. Regeneria looked at Illona in thanks, noticing cuts and awl punctures around her hands. Some of the other ladies-in-waiting had them, too. Regeneria hardly knew her retinue, but gratitude swelled in her at their efforts.

Athene and Mellora were walking around the room, taking in the armaments and layout. Mellora picked up a throwing axe and hefted it thoughtfully before setting it down. The twins inclined their heads in approval.

Regeneria turned to face her ladies-in-waiting. "I am humbled by your efforts. Thank you. I do not even know your names."

One lady stepped forward and dipped her knee. Shoulder length, fine brown hair cropped a stubborn, perky face with brown freckles and sparkling blue eyes. "Highness, do you not recall me? I am Hille." Regeneria did indeed recall the girl. She had been a tomboy, wrestling boys in the yard and always in trouble for having stained clothes. She was now more refined, but some spark of the playground remained. The other ladies introduced themselves and Regeneria tried to remember their names but failed.

"Ladies, you shall be joined by Athene," she gestured to the more colorful of the twins, who was swishing her rapier in the general direction of the training dummy, "and Mellora." The latter woman had Regeneria's bow in hand and was testing its draw. The other ladies looked askance at the pair and back to Regeneria.

"Think of them more as bodyguards, or field captains, or two more sets of eyes keeping watch. These women will wait on me wherever I go, even into the heart of battle. I would not ask you to do the same. But during their time here, please accept the twins among you. I shall retire now. Show Athene and Mellora the Manor." 

Regeneria left the twins to mingle with the other ladies-in-waiting, inclining her head to Marquess Illona. The two walked to the bathing chamber where a hot bath was waiting. Regeneria stood wearily and let Illona remove her bloodstained clothes. Illona clucked at the matted blood in Regeneria's hair and the streaks down her neck and arms. "Verflixt, Regeneria!" Illona stared with naked concern, roaming over her face and body seeking signs of injury. She scooped a bucketful of steaming water and doused the girl, letting the water run over the stones in the floor. She set to Regeneria with a wet cloth, swabbing her hair and limbs roughly. 

Illona ushered Regeneria into the bath and watched the water cloud with road grime and dried blood. A small beetle bobbed to the surface and clamored helplessly against the water. Regeneria watched it struggle for a time then flicked it out onto the floor. Illona soaped the girl down then rinsed her with buckets of water. She kneaded Regeneria's back and shoulders. 

Regeneria dried herself and moved into the bedroom. She laid naked in her bed and beckoned to Illona. The woman removed her frock and folded it neatly into a bundle. Her linen undershirt stretched tight around her bosom. Long golden tresses framed her face and fell to her bottom. Regeneria watched her soft legs and graceful arms as Illona climbed into the bed and lay beside her. Regeneria rested her head against Illona's shoulder and ran her fingers through the cascade of blonde hair. 

Illona delicately ran a hand over Regeneria's tummy, felling the hard muscles beneath. She fanned out her hair on both sides of her face and ran it over Regeneria, caressing her breasts, belly, and legs with long strands of silken hair. She whisked a tress of hair over Regeneria's thatch of copper curls then spanked at her labia with it. Regeneria laughed and Illona paused, staring at Regeneria with unfathomable need. She ducked her head and captured Regeneria's nipple between her lips, running her tongue tip over the hardening flesh. Illona lapped at Regeneria's titflesh, tonguing her body like a mother cat washing a kitten. Regeneria moaned deep in her throat and arched her ribcage upward to accept Illona's swishing tongue. 

Regeneria clawed at Illona's linens, trying to get at the toys nestled inside. Illona sat upright, leaned over, and began to unbutton her undershirt. As each button opened the strain on the garment grew; her breasts jiggled with each release and threatened to spill out. Her cleavage deepened and distended as Illona's breasts drew further downward. And soon they swung free, her rosy nipples swaying above Regeneria's face. Regeneria swatted at them playfully, watching the pendulous motions. She pulled down one tit and slurped on it.

Regeneria moved back and forth between each breast and her sucks grew more insistent. Illona was not satisfied with their arrangement. As Regeneria fed hungrily from her breast, Illona scooted around until she could get Regeneria's nipple in her mouth. Illona sighed around the nub of flesh and nursed it gently while fondling Regeneria's other nipple. Reciprocal sucking noises filled the chamber. The women grew ever more animated, sucking and nipping frantically at each other. Then Illona moved off of Regeneria's tit, scooted forward, and straddled the girl. Illona lay her head on Regeneria's belly and listened to her tummy gurgle. Then she inched her head down, planting kisses until she was tonguing Regeneria's clit. Regeneria parted her thighs, allowing Illona's tongue tip to slice through her folds. The older woman mewled and lapped at her in a frenzy. 

When Regeneria opened her eyes she was staring right into Illona's pussy. The delicate lips of her labia were long and smooth; white skin with a coral ridge of flesh rising. Illona was lightly perfumed, but the scent was overpowered by arousal. Curious, Regeneria extended a finger and ran it over the pouting lips, causing Illona to shudder. Moisture appeared and a bright pink flush peeked from between Illona's lips. Regeneria poked her finger inside and ran it along the sheath of Illona's pussy. This caused Illona to hasten her ministrations; she began sucking on Regeneria's clit and thrusting fingers inside her. 

Regeneria had never actually tasted another woman's pussy before, and wasn't particularly keen to. But at the moment it was convenient, and she knew it would give Illona pleasure. So Regeneria continued to frig Illona with her fingers while inching her lips towards Illona's pussy. Regeneria's hot breath ran over Illona's thighs, encroaching on her center. Then she cupped her tongue and slid it over Illona's snatch. Illona stopped her tongue fucking and crackled with a thrill of erotic delight. Regeneria swished her tongue back and forth, nicking Illona's clit each time. It was only moments before Illona started bucking and crying out "ist so gut."

Regeneria fell back onto the bed and Illona leaned over her, eyes slitted but aglow with satisfaction. She smoothed the hair around Regeneria's forehead and murmured for her to relax. Illona fondled Regeneria's breasts some more and then disappeared among the clouds of the down duvet. Her tongue found Regeneria's pussy and soon the Queen was writhing through her own orgasm. She fell asleep shortly afterward. Illona moved quietly from the bed, dressed, doused the lights, and left the girl in peace.



Lady Sting



Yet her neckline bothered her. Her trimming had been careful, but the garment was designed with a cowl and now looked awkward. She cast her eye about the armory for something suitable.

"What are those?" She pointed to an assortment of leather cylinders hanging near the back corner. 

"You mean, the dog training collars?" Garrick frowned. He took a few from the wall. 

Regeneria selected a particularly wide collar and placed it around her neck, tucking the ragged edges of the blouse beneath. A pleasant, acrid scent of leather warmed her nose as she tried the fit. It would do. In fact, the high collar made her seem even more imposing. It was a singularly odd, but oddly satisfying outfit she now wore. She was reminded both of a Spartan and a geisha. 

Garrick returned with a francisca. It was utilitarian, but well balanced. The metal haft had a wrapped leather grip. The axe blade was narrow and long, and tightly coupled to the haft. Two nasty spikes formed an L at the back of the blade and the tip. 

Regeneria weighed the blade, stepped up to the gallery, and snapped the axe overhand. It flew through the air and cleaved into the target. She walked down the gallery and wrenched it out of the oak. 

"I'll need shoes," she said, "for appearances sake."

* * * 

When she approached the Great Hall this time, Regeneria was more composed. This was why she had come, and it had gone rather well considering the contingencies. She no longer cared about seeing her father's body. It was obvious that he was dead.

As she entered, the reaction was audible. Allies and detractors alike were unsure what to make of her dress. Was this a mockery? Had she become deranged? Whispers spread about the hall. 

Regeneria climbed the dais and stood at the edge of the platform to look over the crowd. The net impression dazed her. The faces were mostly familiar, but distorted from her memories by scale and time. Everyone had grown and changed, just perceptibly, setting everything she knew to zero.

It was notable that she did not take the throne, but merely stood and watched. She then lifted her arm to conjure silence.

"When last I was with you, I sat at that table and learned what path we Franks would take under my father's rule. I was but eleven, two years from adulthood, yet my father wished me to wed Prince Von Bruen to ensure political ties."

Involuntary ire crept from the lips of the crowd. Regeneria latched upon it.

"Speak, Argonulf, why your disdain?"

"Highness, your flight left us in a bad way. The Von Bruens withdrew all support and the brigands have beset us ever since."

"You would rather I had wed, then, Argonulf?" He had the sense to stay silent. "Was it I who threatened our people? What of the Von Bruens? Have they become the High Kings of Bohemia? Shall I go to them now with vows upon my lips?"

Many in the crowd looked uncomfortable. By default, Argonulf spoke again."

"Nein, Highness, they too are in disarray."

She thundered. "They were in disarray then! The aristocracy ever grows. They gain our lands and our power and care not who sits on the throne. Are we so diminished that such pallid alliance compels the Crown Princess? Is our will that malleable?" 

Regeneria stepped across the dais to the throne. She sat upon it, glaring at the throng with her eyes aglitter.

"War has come upon us. I did not bring it, but I am responsible. For it was the fault of this throne! Through weakness and bartering we have become targets of lesser kings and playthings of the aristocracy. That shall end now."

Garrick stepped forward, great weight on his mind. She bade him to speak.

"Highness, I welcome you as my sovereign. Yet they will never accept you as a candidate for High Queen. You will paint a broader target upon our backs."

"Nein, Quartermaster, they will not accept me as High Sovereign. But they will accept Monrovius."

The murmur from the crowd could not be contained. It was some moments before order returned. Garrick spoke again.

"Highness, you take the throne only to abdicate it three years hence?"

"I take the throne, yes, with intent to yield it. But in the interim, I shall polish this crown so that it shall gleam upon the brow of High King Monrovius!"

This was too much and a darkness crept across the hall. Florid men clenched their fists and made to rise. It was then that Robeart stepped forward.

"Captain Robeart."

"Highness. Your path has but three outcomes. You will pull us into a stalemate war when we are already besieged. You will die and tarnish us further through your fall. Or you shall triumph."

"Your logic is unparalleled, Captain." She spoke with irony but knew he was speaking down for the sake of others in the hall.

"Highness, you claim the throne and that is your right, as everyone in this hall respects. But now you ask us to accept you as the champion of the people under the code of war. You are but eighteen, and untrained, and untested on the field of war."

Many in the throng were nodding at Robeart's words. If this annoyed her, such wound was hidden by the smile that tugged at her lips. She anticipated his next words.

"Highness, I decry you unfit for the Throne of War."

Guards stepped towards Robeart but she stayed them. "By what right can you lay claim against my royal blood, Captain?"

"Highness, I am Robeart, a Boii and Baron of Peak Arragone."

It was then that Regeneria connected with the memory of his name. The Boii had integrated throughout Bohemia, goaded by famine. Some families had retained their royal heritage and been granted minor swaths of lands as tokens of their acceptance of Bohemian rule. Robeart had come to the manor a few years before Regeneria had fled it. He had risen quickly, then. 

"You have insulted the crown, Captain."

"Nein, Highness, I uphold it."

"What is your claim, then?"

Robeart thought for a moment. "I claim treason by way of ambivalent succession."

"You believe my father is still alive?"

"Indeed not. Yet you have not confirmed it for yourself."

"Very well. I recognize this claim, to be settled by judicial duel to submission. If I submit I forsake my claim to the Throne of War. If Baron Von Peak Arragone submits, then the Royal Guard accepts me as the champion of the people."

The silence of the hall was absolute. The pair turned as one and headed for the judicial grounds.

* * * Their pace was measured, but others -- guards, servants, and the people -- scurried ahead. A loud drum began to thud, unnecessarily. Between the assassination of the king, the attempt on Monrovius, Regeneria's claim to the throne, and the capture of the assassin, the manor was already thoroughly roused. Anger permeated the air, tinged with the stench of fear and uncertainty. 

By the time Regeneria and Robeart reached the judicial grounds, the throng had formed a wide circle around the arena. As she suspected, the judicial grounds had seen little use of late. They were trimmed, as were all of the manor grounds, but clumps of thistle and thorn peppered the rough sea of grass and dirt. 

Robeart stepped to the edge of the arena and began to remove all metal accouterments from his gear. He shucked off one boot and another, then removed a dagger held by straps to his calf. As the pile of weapons and sundry grew, one of his men came forward with a wicked-looking francisca. Though blacked by a patina of sweat and age, the axe boasted a bright edge along its clean, deadly swell. 

A judge came forth and beckoned Robeart into the ring. They spoke perfunctorily. The judge called out to the crowd. "The accuser Baron von Peak Arragone claims treason against the Queen Regnant, Regeneria von Rupii Ilse. This claim has no witness and shall be settled by traditional combat unto submission." He threw a rumpled hat and a stick into the arena. "Now shall the accused step forth. Regeneria von Rupii Ilse!"

The ring of the crowd parted into a C, forming an isle for Regeneria. She did not move but stared coolly around her. Her singular outfit which had raised such an outcry in the hall -- rough hewn in haste from fine fencing leather, a coarse dog collar, and bracers -- did not seem so strange now. In fact, she struck them all as imposing. Again the judge called her name. Regeneria scanned the ground once more then fixed Robeart in a dead gray stare. All coyness and irony had fled her countenance. Before the judge could call a third time, she stepped forward. "I accept this claim." She hardly paused as she kicked off her shoes and let the axe handle slip down into her grip. The combatants faced off over the hat and stick laying in the grass. Each touched the tokens with the blades of their franciscas. And then it began.

No sooner had the stick quivered from the touch of her blade when Regeneria sprang forward. Her feet barely glanced the earth before she was aloft again, swinging her axe through the space where Robeart had just been. Her onslaught stunned the crowd with its deft ferocity. Yet Robeart was ever one step ahead, dodging and parrying with minimal movements. Regeneria found that he was leading her through a progression of angles, testing the variations of her attack. 

Then the briefest shift of stance and he was on her. His axe whirled and bit the air, attacking with precision. Regeneria noted that he always pulled back when she had to rely on her left hand for the parry, but otherwise his blows were crushing and cruel. The jarring crack of their blades rang through her bones. 

Regeneria had had enough. The day was already overlong and midday had barely passed. She ceased their dance and went for Robeart in earnest. Regeneria had studied the terrain while the judge had droned on. She forced the Captain of the Guard around and then gave way, stepping backward directly into a thicket of ground thorns. Regeneria had spent seven years prowling the woods in bare feet, toughening them for just this reason. She relented ever so briefly, demanding Robeart to press the attack. Just as his brow creased in suspicion, his foot scraped into the ground thorns and his eyes twitched in pain. She'd been expecting this moment and her axe whistled forth, reflexively going for the kill. It was all she could do to arrest its descent as Regeneria awkwardly turned her blade into the flesh of his shoulder. As Robeart buckled in pain, the queen could not suppress her instinct and drove an aggressive sweep of her heel under his legs, lifting Robeart off his feet. He crashed into the ground and lay still.

* * *

The ladies-in-waiting and the doctor had just left the Queen's chambers. Robeart cracked open his eyes to check his surroundings and found Regeneria glittering intently at him. He sat up and removed the bandages with some irritation. He knew better than to speak out of turn, for Regeneria was now truly his queen. 

"Let's be blunt. I know I'd have lost, if not for you allowing me to defend to my right."

"And I know that you were hampered not by your arm, but by the awkwardness of staying your hand. Had our duel been to the death and not submission, I would have lost my life."

She was impressed by his accurate assessment but did not show it.

"So you have killed before, Highness." It wasn't really a question, for he already knew. Her movements had not been forged by training, but by necessity. She was unused to pulling her blows, and unused to the drawn out style of ritual combat. She was not, however, unused to carnage.

"Many times."

"Then why am I here? You have proven your valor to the people and I am ready to accept my fate."

"What fate is that?"

"I have challenged you and lost. Am I not to be exiled?"

"Our people must be truly twisted about if they would expend good men for so poor a reason. You are the Captain of the Royal Guard and shall retain that title."

He was beginning to understand why he was still here. 

"You could have beaten me and I need to know how. I have never been formally trained, particularly not in this mockery. I have no thirst for war, but at least such combat is honest. If I am to represent our people in duel, I need to be ready."

"So you want me to train you, then, Highness; that is straightforward. I will begin preparations immediately. But it will require much effort and sacrifice from you. To train you best I must know what will motivate you."

If it were possible, the glittering in her eyes had intensified. Robeart felt distinctly uncomfortable. He had trained many men and some women; though the bulk of training required only broad strokes, finely tuning another's style required keen manipulation. Some people could not bear it for long. 

"Did you take pleasure in searching the assassin this morning? Did you enjoy the feel of her breasts beneath your hands?" 

No doubt remained. Robeart's trap was plainly laid. "She is attractive. But at the time my only thought was to clear her weapons before she woke up."

"Are you married, Robeart? Do you have children?" She edged closer and her scent drifted towards him.

"No. Highness. A life such as mine leaves no room."

"You're a particularly clinical man." She was testing him; he had to decide whether to cave or maintain, and wasn't sure which she wanted.

"You want to know what motivates me, Captain? Leaving behind my full time bodyguards and penalty of death upon any who besmirched my honor, I fled into the wild. There, no cloak of law protected me. I had to exact such penalty myself. And did, numerous times."

She was moving ever closer to him, and the scent he'd caught earlier was now trickling throughout the room. 

"In the wild, sex was something I was constantly fighting off. And now that I am a wartime Queen, it is something I cannot afford to have. So where does that leave me?" 

His nostril flared but he gave no other sign.

"I judge you a man who can separate pleasure from love, and one with a broad definition of duty. Can you separate the two?"

"Yes. Can you?"

"I do not know."

He sighed, for this greatly complicated matters. Yet sex was as potent a reward as any he might come up with, as audacious as it seemed on the surface. 

"Very well, Highness. When you meet your training goals, you shall have such reward, but only then."

Her breath caught and her face flushed. She was delirious with repressed desire. "I bested you today."

"Indeed, you did." He was up in a flash, grabbed her good wrist, and spun her around to pin her against the wall. She struck an elbow at his face but he ducked under it and checked her body hard with his, knocking the wind out of her. He reached under her skirt and tugged down the loose linen panties. She struggled so he kept her hands pinned at her back. His thumb traced her navel, then her abdomen, inching her pants past the peak of her bottom. Robeart lifted his foot between her knees and stepped down hard, mashing her dampened panties into the floor. 

The heat of her body was intense on the front of his thighs. He curled a finger between her legs, expecting to find some form of resistance there. But his finger was in air, and then it was inside her, and he could hardly tell where she began but for the wet sensation and the heat around his fingertip.

He then thrust forth his finger in earnest and twirled it around inside her. Regeneria gasped sharply. He kept his foot on her panties and pushed her to the side so she was forced to step out of them. She used the opportunity to kick him hard in the side, but he turned her around and bent her waist over the hospital bed. He flicked up her rear skirt, which flopped into her back with a faint leathery slap and stayed put, leaving her ass and thighs obscenely bare. He pressed her into the mattress and sank to his knees, marveling at how pink she was before moving in to taste her. He probed his tongue into her folds and rudely licked around.

Regeneria stopped struggling then, and soon Robeart was thrusting inside of her. She copulated ferally, aware only of the blood rushing in her ears as she uttered incoherent cries of lust.

* * *