Story Catchup Post #2 (Patreon)

Just the story, without the images, in case you need to read it with continuity.  Continuing from our last story catchup post.

Unknown to the town or its occupiers, Auriane, a villager who worked as a courier between Dacquoise and the capital, was on the road when the town was occupied. From a distance, she saw that something was wrong. Coming closer, and trying her best to remain unseen, she saw the evidence of occupying forces along the walls, then ran back to her horse, riding to the capital with as much haste as she could muster. She would go to the queen herself if that’s what it took, and return with the royal army.

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Back in the town, Rowena stood atop the platform in the town square, and smiled quietly to herself as she watched her troops work. Homes were being raided, inhabitants ushered out, things of value looted. “Take the finished food, but bring the ingredients to the town square!” she ordered. All was going according to plan.

Behind her, Lorraine ushered her prisoners onto the platform. With the help of Veronica and Mercedes, she ushered the three of them into the stocks, while the other soldiers drove the villagers from their houses, into the town square.

Rowena spoke to the troops one more time. “Lorraine helped me take the city with no effort, thanks to the plans we made with her. In return, I’m going to let her put on a little show for all of you.”

Lorraine smiled, standing behind the women in the stocks. “Thank you, Mi’Lady. People of Dacquoise! You know me as your neighbor.” “Traitor!” came a voice from the crowd. The soldiers walked around, looking for the source of the voice. Lorraine squinted angrily, then continued, Before you, see your échevin, the high-and-mighty magistrate who has judged everything in this town since this conflict began. Yesterday, this pig threatened me with the stocks. But after giving her some new style,” she gestured to Chorinna’s close-bobbed hair, “I’ve seen her blubbery backside in front of you, on this scaffold, in the same device she wanted to lock me into.”

The soldiers cheered; they didn’t know Chorinna, but seeing the chief magistrate of the town they had conquered in the stocks drove home their success. The townspeople were largely silent. Even those who thought Chorinna’s leadership hadn’t benefited them knew she didn’t deserve this.

“And Clarabelle, the pig’s loyal cow,” Lorraine continued. “You were always a big girl, weren’t you. And you played at being important. Constable. Captain of this little cow-pasture’s joke of a gendarmerie. Now people can see you for what you really are.” Landing a slap on her backside, she then grabbed her hanging belly.

“Well, don’t forget about this witch! This ugly little illusionist can’t be too god at magic, or she’d do something about all this” (Lorraine gestured to Iris’ face and body). “But she made my milk go sour. She’s trying to put me out of business.”

Iris spoke up, “You were in league with the enemy this whole time! You were angry that I tried to report you!”

“Quiet, lying witch!” Lorraine shouted, gesturing to Mercedes, who started slapping Iris’ backside with the flat of her cutlass. Iris grimaced and moaned. “That will teach the little witch. Veronica?” Veronica came to Lorraine, who whispered something to her. She nodded, and climbed off of the scaffold, pushing through the crowded square, then into a building off the square.

“Well, that looks red enough,” Lorraine said, admitting Mercedes’ work, “now what about the others?”

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“Message for you, your grace…um, your highness,” the foot soldier said as she lingered at the tavern door. Taking the note from her, Selena nodded, and she left, clearly worried that staying too long in the tavern-turned command base could go poorly for a lowly messenger. “Well?” Fiona asked. “I’ve taken this cow pasture with little resistance. There’s no one left to put up a fight, everyone is in custody, come at your leisure. I look forward to collecting the reward on our wager, as well.”

Maeve’s face darkened. “Well, isn’t Rowena confident?” Fiona remarked, “I hope she’s assessing the situation correctly. Perhaps it’s time to find a new base of operations, further into enemy territory? “We haven’t yet encountered the Queen’s army. Perhaps caution is in order,” Selena remarked, showing the note to Vittoria.

The Venetian glanced at the words. “Fortune has smiled on us, and Rowena has come through long before the day is out. I will make my way to the town.” “We can send a detachment to guard you,” Fiona offered. “I’ll take my own bodyguard. Besides, I owe a reward to someone in Dacquoise other than Rowena, and I’ll seek her out and settle affairs. It’s important for everyone to know the Romoli ALWAYS pay their debts.” With that, Vittoria left the tavern.

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“The army of Plouffe will rescue us!” Chorinna said, as she felt Mercedes tug her panties down her thighs. “The Army of Plouffe?! You think they’d risk an encounter in open terrain?” Lorraine mocked. “They are probably concentrating their forces in the capital city and moving the crops and population inside.”

“You traitor! You’ll pay! You’ll--OUCH!” Chorinna’s recriminations were interrupted by the flat of a sword smacking her backside. 

“And to think YOU were going to lock ME in these stocks!” Lorraine taunted. “You won’t get away with-owww!” Chorinna responded. The three women writhed in the stocks, to no avail. They weren’t getting out.

But then, with a fanfare, a carriage rode into the square. The townspeople, on their knees as they were, had to be moved by the guards to make way. Veronica cursed as the elegant coach nearly sideswiped the small wagon she was pushing.

Rowena, who had been watching quietly, walked over to the carriage and helped a veiled woman out of it. Gesturing to the square full of pacified, kneeling citizens, she said, “Duchess! Welcome! You’ll see I have completed the mission as we discussed. Subduing this cow pasture was easy for seasoned troops like mine.”

Vittoria smiled, “Yes, Lady Knight, but I think you forgot that completion of that task involves HOLDING the town.” “Here’s the entire population, on their knees, watching their magistrate get stripped and spanked in the stocks. What could go wrong?” Rowena scoffed, as the two ascended the scaffold. Pushing by the knight, Vittoria walked over to Lorraine. “Yours is not the only reward I am here to grant, Rowena. I’ll fulfill our bargain, when the day is through.” Looking at Lorraine, she said, “Thank you, here it is, as promised.” She handed over a heavy purse. Lorraine opened it and looked down, examining the coins inside, before hanging it from her belt. “Thank you, Duchess Vittoria. It was a pleasure working with you. “Likewise. Now, on with whatever show you were putting on!”

Veronica came back to the stage, having pulled in a cart laden with what seemed to be baked goods. Creamy pies made up the majority of it. “I have what you asked for.” “What’s going on here?” Rowena interrupted, “this food is for the army.” Veronica saluted before responding. “It seems that our invasion has interrupted the rate of trade here. These were meant to be consumed by, um yesterday.” She handed one to Rowena, who smelled it, wrinkling her nose in disgust. “Well, you seem to be correct. Proceed.” “There’s so much more where that came from,” Veronica offered. “I’m just glad that these spoiled cream tarts aren’t for me,” Rowena said, uncharacteristically light-hearted. “Oh, and…we brought this one. Found her tied up in the square,” Veronica added, as another guard shoved Patrice forward, her wrists bound. “The more the merrier,” Lorraine responded, “We’ll make room.”

Patrice’s thin form contrasted with some of the fuller-figured women on stage as Veronica untied her and led her toward the stocks. More wiry than robust, Clarabelle had doubted her when she volunteered to serve in the town guard. She had proven herself in practice combat amongst others in the town, but, like Clarabelle and so many others, she had fallen far short when confronted by Rowena the Black. “How’s this one so svelte in this town of cheesecake and sweet cream?” Vittoria asked, somewhat rhetorically.

“Mercedes? No one said you can stop.” Lorraine said, gesturing to Clarabelle. “Ah, Clarabelle. A great name for a milk cow. Perhaps I should milk you. It’s my job, after all,” she teased, as the flat of the guard’s sword reddened the chubby cheeks in front of her, making the large woman jiggle with each smack.

“Get those huge panties off her, if you have to cut them off! They’re ruining our enjoyment of the view.” Mercedes nodded as Lorraine barked orders at her. Rowena herself had instructed them to listen to her, after all.

After a little while, Lorraine pointed at Patrice. “Get the skinny one now, then we’ll move on to act two.” The side of Mercedes’ cutlass smacked against to the smallest, firmest target it had yet hit. Unlike the others, Patrice didn’t jiggle. Instead, the loud smacks connected solidly with the firm little backside, eliciting a wordless high-pitched exclamation from the guard with every hit.

Lorraine watched and smiled. Picking up one of the over-the-hill cream tarts, she passed it to Vittoria. “Would you like to do the honors?” Vittoria grimaced at the smell of the pie, but Lorraine gestured to the pilloried women, and a smile crept across the Venetian’s face. “Which one shall I start with?”

“Take your pick,” Lorraine replied. Vittoria observed the four women carefully. “This one has an intelligent, but haughty bearing.” Lorraine smiled, “Your perception is most precise. That’s the échevin of this little dunghole of a village.” Vittoria looked back for a moment, smiling, then slammed the pie into Chorinna’s face.

Chorinna sputtered as some of the spoiled cream went into her mouth. Vittoria smiled widely. “That was as enjoyable for me as it was disgusting for this little cow.”

“Speaking of cows, Clarabelle, I think this gross, runny cream smells a little over the hill. Let me know, as a cow, what you think.” Lorraine smacked the guard in the face with a pastry just as rotten as the one Vittoria had given Chorinna, but, for some reason, it was of much runnier consistency. Its drippiness did Clarabelle no favors, as it smelled even worse.

In short order, Lorraine hit Iris with a pie, while Vittoria did the same for Patrice. 

“Well, now we just watch the bunch of your collect flies like the excrement you are, hmmm? Or are there perhaps more ways to have fun with you will you rot in the stocks?” Lorraine taunted.

“Who has the biggest and most luxurious house in the town?” Vittoria asked. “It would be this piggy, right here,” Lorraine said, pointing to Chorinna. “I’ll send my servants ahead to prepare for our stay,” the Venetian replied. “But we can enjoy our victory a little while longer,” she added, gesturing to the women in the stocks.

Rowena cracked a smile. “This town is conquered. Send the villagers home. We’ll stay out here until it gets dark.” She punctuated her statement by slapping Clarabelle’s backside with her sword.

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On a hill above the city, three women dismounted and took stock of the strategic situation. “I say we wait until nightfall. It won’t be THAT long now. We can get in and get the job done quietly.” Said a freckled, athletic brunette dressed in a sleeveless chainmail and holding a bow. “No offense, private, but I’m the most experienced among us,” an equally-freckled, green-armored knight with fiery red hair responded. “Every hour we wait, they might add more troops, and their grasp on the town tightens. We have to act now. And nothing about this operation is likely to be quiet. Only speed and surprise are on our side.”

“Look!” said Auriane the courier, dressed in a blue coat and beret, “they are dispersing the citizens.”

“But what does that mean?” the archer replied.

“That’s good,” the knight responded, “we can’t take the village with just the three of us. We need help from the townspeople.” 

“None of them know how to fight, Lady Helena” Auriane said, “except maybe for the ones in the stocks.”

“And that isn’t our biggest problem. I bet they have no weapons,” the archer chimed in. “Why couldn’t the queen have seen fit to send a detachment of troops to take the village back?”

“What’s your name, private?” the Knight asked. “Broussard, sir. Marjorie Broussard.” 

“Well, private Broussard, you may be a hot-shot archer, but a soldier learns not to question the decisions of her sovereign.”

“No doubt she thought she needed every soldier to defend the capital,” the courier said.

“And she might be right,” Helena responded, “but as it is, only two of us volunteered to help you save your village. We’re going to have to do it through stealth and guerilla tactics.” She nodded toward Broussard as she spoke, “She’s right. Do they have any weapons?”

Auriane frowned. “No, sir. Dacquoise, as you know, is a village of farmers, millers, and bakers.” 

“What DO they have that we could use, then, farm tools?” Broussard asked. 

“The tools would be out in the fields, and too heavy for us to bring enough to arm the populace. IT has to be something already in the town” Helena pointed out.

“Well, we have plenty of pastries, flour, honey.”

Helena interrupted, “Honey?”  Auriane nodded. “So you have beehives? Perhaps that CAN help. I once had a bee inside my armor, and it was…an unpleasant experience. It would, at the very least help distract, if not disable some of the soldiers.”

“You could always blind them with those big, creamy pies they make here,” Broussard interjected.

Auriane frowned, “That’s crazy.”  “Then give us something better,” the archer responded.

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A short time later, the three of them were sneaking up to the walls. “It’s here,” Auriane said, pointing to a short section of wall that was low compared to the ground around it. A small pile of dirt, branches, and leaves made it climbable. “This is a security mistake,” Helena commented. “Yes, but teenagers use it to leave the village and return without getting caught. All small villages have spots like this.” As the archer helped the knight up the wall, she added, “the guard captain should find out about these activities and put an end to them.” “Have you ever met a teenager?” the messenger responded, while Helena reached to help the private climb the wall.

Broussard looked around, her trained eye taking in the situation. “Two guards over there, three over there. They are in groups, which is bad—but at the same time, discipline is lax and they aren’t paying attention. At least they are far enough apart we ought to be able to disable the groups one at a time.”

“Then, there’s the guards you can’t see yet,” Helena added, “we need to disable each group quickly before they catch on. And we need to rally the villagers quietly. Who do we need to meet?”

“Emile the tavern-keep can rouse much of the town if you contact her,” Auriane mused, “but we also need Yvette.” “Yvette?” the archer asked. “Yes, she’s an eccentric little woman who’s always trying to invent things to make business run more efficiently. She’s a competent smith, and great if you need to fix a simple tool. The problem is when she comes up with an idea to improve it.”

Helena looked quizzically at Auriane, and gestured to continue. “She has these grandiose ideas that she calls ‘mechanics’ that she learned growing up with the gnomes. Some people think she’s half or a quarter gnomish, but that’s neither here nor there. The problem is that her inventions always end up humiliating or hurting someone. Luckily, she often falls victim to them herself, but enough others have suffered that she’s been run out of town twice.” “And she’s still here?” “She always comes back, and we need a tinker in town to repair our tools, and she’s a good one if she doesn’t try to improve them.”

“Why do we need her then?” the private asked. “Were you not listening?” Helena admonished, “her inventions always seem to humiliate or hurt people. The trick will be deploying them against the enemy, instead of ourselves.” Auriane nodded. “There’s just one problem. She’s more than eccentric, and a little skittish, being that the town has turned against her more than once. I think I can talk her into joining us, but not if I get captured.”

Helena nodded, “Then our plan is clear. I’ll find this tavernkeep, that ought to be easy enough. Private, go with Auriane and find this Yvette. Try to stay below the radar, but protect her if you can. And try not to actually hurt anyone.”

“Come again, sir?” a bewildered Broussard said. “These women are soldiers just like you. They aren’t evil—“ “But they are fighting for the Foxgloves sisters.” “Exactly. They are following orders. IT’s those who are giving the orders that are evil.” “Alright, alright, try not to hurt anyone,” the private said, rolling her eyes.”