Part 64 (Patreon)

It had seemed a long journey, caged in the back of a wooden wagon, whose poor suspension aggravated the bruising of Nimue’s backside. Her only consolation was that Ingrid was sleeping next to her. She recognized the elite assassins, known as Bash-Harala in Bleakmorne, who had arrived in her manor to retrieve her prisoners. But that was before the barbarian and orc showed up. While they had bathed, and been able to get their gear together and dress, the other soldiers that came didn’t allow Nimue or Ingrid to do so. As soon as they were untied, they had been led into the cage on the wagon. Nimue’s backside stung worse than the laughter as the soldiers commented on her state of dress and the message scrawled in mud across her backside.

After what seemed an eternity, they came to a halt at a small military camp. After being quickly cleaned up, and provided with some basic clothing, she was separated from Ingrid, and brought before Veloryna. The sight of the woman sent a chill down the mage’s spine. This wasn’t the first time she had met the princess—in fact she knew her all too well.

“My guards say they found you bent over a table, tied by the hands and feet, your face covered in pink icing, in a compromising position with a chicken drumstick, with an intriguing message written in mud on your red, bloated backside. It must have been quite the sight!”

Nimue winced, but couldn’t afford to upset the princess, now acting as regent. “You must have seen similar scenes, your highness, back at the academy.”

“Those were the days. What did we call you, ‘Raven Buns?’ Ha. Remember when I tricked you into coming up to the outer battlements, then hung you over the wall by your underwear?”

“How can I forget? I thought I was going to die.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. I picked a place right over a deep section of the moat. As I remember, you landed right where I intended?”

“The moat was foul, slimy, and full of snapping turtles.”

“Oh yes, I remember your slimy walk of shame back to the academy infirmary. In fact, you were walking even funnier then than you are today….yes, that’s right…the turtles…hahahaa...you requested to stand for your classes for the next week. The headmistress said it would be a distraction for you to do so, but did allow you to carry a pillow from class to class.”

“A pillow you filled with tacks and pins.”

“Yes, those WERE the days. But about that message…did you indeed help them find the keystone?”

“I did everything in my power to prevent it—it is, after all, an inestimable loss to me personally--but my prisoners and their rescuers overpowered me, and the Bash-Harala you sent to retrieve them.”

“Ah, yes…I’ll have to have a word with my assassins. Nevertheless, you are a deserter of Bleakmorne. We’ve ignored your transgression and your… eccentricities until now. But now, you’ve aided our foes. It doesn’t matter if it was through malicious intent or incompetence. You owe us, Raven Buns. And if you play your cards right, I might just let you continue to live in that keep with that…abomination of yours.”

“She has a name. It’s Ingrid! Um, your highness.” The rage that flashed through Nimue’s eyes turned to fear as her old tormentor, the ruler of one of the most powerful kingdoms in the world, looked at her angrily.

“I’ll forgive that outburst, for now. But only if you use your considerable powers to get back that keystone and return it to ME. After all, I suspect its resting place before you got your chubby paws on it was Bleakmorne’s treasury? Archdeaconess Cafrune will assign a team to your efforts. And your abomination? She’ll stay with us. Should you abandon your duty to our beloved homeland again, she’ll find herself in the deepest pits of Ofusca’s dungeons. Go now, I hear Cafrune has news that requires your haste.”

Nimue tried to hold back tears. “Yes, your highness.”

The sorceress was brought to Cafrune, “Oh, it’s you…’Raven Bum,’ is it? Our royal highness has already regaled us with stories of your youthful adventures together.”

“Adventures..” Nimue repeated, nodding with a blush.

Cafrune failed to repress a snicker. “Well, your failure to deliver the prisoners you had taken, and your loss of a keystone vital to their mission, has been reported. You may not think of yourself as in the service of Bleakmorne any longer, but if you wish to see that…demihuman again, you’ll be as loyal as our most steadfast troopers.”

Nimue nodded, with a gulp.

“Time is sensitive here, Raven Bum. Can I call you that? Well, of course I can. I can call you whatever you want, because I have something you care about. But let’s not waste time on words—we have a report of another pair of Realms types, asking about the keystones, at a small village only about four leagues away. They would be gone by now, but word has it they transgressed local laws and are currently detained in the pillory. Securing them should be difficult to bungle, even for you. We’ll dispatch some of our team members with you, to get the job done, and a prisoner cart, of the kind you arrived in, will follow close behind. Oh, don’t worry. This time, you’ll get to ride in the seats, rather than the cage—provided you play your cards right. Now go talk to Bryzara who’ll get you underway.”