by Rowan Bree
Epilogue.
Deciding on the path of least resistance, you approach the duke. He glances up at you and does a double take, frantically wiping his greasy fingers on his robes before taking your hand.
He plants a wet kiss on the back of your hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” he says. “Though you probably already know who I am.”
You don’t, but you nod anyway. “I’m from Doria,” you tell him. “I don’t make it out much.”
The duke, still holding your hand, gives it another wet kiss. “Well, you should make the most of your visit to the capital. Come, sit. Have a drink with me.” He pulls you down onto the bench beside him. The young man he is with silently places a goblet in front of you and pours wine for you both.
You take a sip as the duke’s hand wanders up your thigh. You did not expect him to be so bold, and wonder if all the men at the feast are like this. You think about Vale running his gloved hand down the back of some unknown woman. The thought makes you sick.
“Relax,” the duke says, chewing on a leg of lamb while his hand continues to wander. “Look around you, everyone’s having fun.”
He points his half-eaten lamb at a table near yours. At first it just looks like one of the maids is teasing an overly drunk minotaur guard by sitting on his lap, until you notice her underpants pulled down to her knees and the visible blush on her cheeks. The guard has one of his hands up her blouse. No one around them seems to be paying the pair any mind.
“And over there,” the duke says. His hand slides over your breast.
He indicates down underneath the tabletop and you duck your head to look. A few seats down you can see a man on his knees, his face buried between two soft female thighs. You sit up and can see the noblewoman conversing with the man across from her as if nothing is amiss.
You feel cold air on your nipple and push the duke’s hand off you, covering yourself.
“No need to be shy,” he says.
You’re here to recruit the man for Vale, not let him molest you in public. But maybe giving him what he wants is the best way to get what you want.
The duke coaxes you. “No one will even know.”
Pleasure the duke.
Trick him into going upstairs with you.
Though an easy target, you decide against the duke. You approach the crowd of women.
One of the women wrestles the wine carafe from a serving girl and refills the handsome man’s goblet. “Why don’t you come visit Hilfair sometime? We’re known for our rolling hills, deep valleys, and moist caves.”
You throw up a bit in your mouth.
“I prefer the sea myself,” the man replies politely. “It offers me the solitude I can’t find on land.”
The woman doesn’t seem to take the hint. “But surely a prince needs a princess,” she replies. “It would be a waste for a man like you to deprive yourself of a woman’s touch.” Her hand rests on his chest.
The man looks out towards the hall as if searching for a way out. His eyes catch yours.
“I’ve already met my princess,” he says extracting him from the touchy women. “And it looks like she’s just arrived.”
He makes his way towards you as the women look on in shock. When he gets close he says to you in a small voice, “I’m sorry to put you on the spot. Do you mind getting me out of here?”
You nod and the two of you move away from the table. When you’re fully out of earshot you ask him who he is.
“I’m Hawke, chief of the sea tribes. I usually avoid these kinds of affairs, but I was told the king had a big announcement to make tonight and I don’t like hearing news secondhand.”
A chief, you think. Vale would no doubt be pleased to exert his influence over the sea tribes.
“Do you want to go somewhere until then?” you ask. “There’s a bit of a private party going on upstairs that might be more to your liking. Only people of consequence are allowed so no women trying to grab for status.”
Hawke laughs. “If only my status was the only thing those women were after. Who are you, then, to know about such a party?”
You smile. “Someone of consequence,” you say.
Hawke rubs his chin. “I appreciate the invitation but I think I’ll stay with the masses. More anonymity, more places to hide.”
“Are you sure?” you ask.
Hawke nods. He turns to leave, but stops as if remembering something. His eyes furrow in concern. “You’re Dorian, right?”
“Why?” you ask in surprise. You know that most people are still suspicious of the Order and Doria in general. You need to be careful.
“Your necklace,” he says. “That stone can only be found in the caves there. I only ask because I’ve heard some things about Doria recently, and the Order. I know that not everyone who joins them does so willingly.” He gives you a meaningful look. “If you need a way out, just let me know. I can take you far from here where the Order won’t find you.”
He seems to think you’re here against your will. Maybe you could use this to your advantage. Or maybe you could accept his offer.
Trick him into going to Vale’s party.
Ask him for help.
“What do you want me to do?” you ask under your breath.
The duke smiles. “For a start you could sit here,” he pats his lap.
You get up to sit on the man’s large thigh. He circles your waist with one arm, while his other hand gathers the skirts of your dress up around your knees. The tabletop mostly hides you from those around you, though anyone walking past might catch a glimpse of the duke’s hand up your dress. No doubt the young man attending the duke is getting an eyeful.
“So what do you want from me?” the duke asks, rubbing your slit through your panties.
You ask him what he means.
“Everything is a transaction, even pleasure. It’s how things work here. You want something for Doria.”
His finger traces the line of your pussy and circles your clit. You can feel yourself getting wet.
You open your mouth to reply but he shushes you. “No need to talk business just yet. We’re still getting to know each other.”
The duke teases you through your soaked panties, the wet fabric clinging lewdly to your body.
“Why don’t you get to know me a bit better?” he says.
He nudges aside his robe to reveal his erect cock. He guides your hand to it and has you stroke it. You move your hand up and down the fat member, feeling a blush creep up your face. You see a couple women across the hall looking at you. They can’t possibly see what you are doing, but you feel self-conscious all the same.
The duke makes you sit in the middle of his lap so that your legs straddle his and your pussy grinds against his cock. His hands grasp your hips to slowly move them back and forth.
“That’s it,” he says as you follow his movements, your arousal growing though you fear being found out.
A pair of men come to sit across from you at the table. You smile politely at them, hoping they don’t notice the slight movement of your body or the blush in your cheeks. But they don’t seem to be paying you much mind.
The duke swats at his page. “Pour these men a drink,” he says in a booming voice. Wine sloshes as the young man hurries to fill the empty goblets and pass them across the table. You stop moving as the men look your way.
The duke introduces himself to the two men and asks where they are from. You avoid eye contact, shrinking down as the duke paws at you under the table.
“The Sandstone Isles,” one of the men replies. “Our uncle was supposed to come but had business to attend to. We’re only here to relay back the king’s announcement, and not get into any trouble.”
The duke laughs. “Well I don’t pity you.” He nudges aside your panties and prompts you to start moving again. You obey him cautiously, your own arousal outweighing your fear.
The duke continues to talk to them as you try your hardest
not to let out any lewd noises. One of the men gives you a sideways glance but says nothing. You can feel the tip of the duke’s cock rubbing against your clit. You want to grind faster but would surely be found out.
Finally, after agonizing minutes the two men get up and leave. You move your hips faster, your breath coming hard as your inhibition falters. You can tell the duke is close too. And once he cums he’ll be all the more receptive to whatever the Order wants from him.
The duke tries to reposition his cock to go inside you. The thought of betraying Vale with this act fills you with dread. You have given your body to the Order and the Old Ones. Soiling it with this man would be blasphemy. You try to stop him.
“Do you want everyone to see us?” he breathes into your ear. “I can make a scene if that’s what you want. Let everyone here know what the Dorian whore is willing to do. Most people here are old enough to remember the Order. They won’t be kind.”
You can’t risk exposing yourself to all these people. Vale has been planning the quiet takeover of Tyven for a long time, and sudden public exposure would only ruin the Order’s chances. You let the duke guide the tip of his cock inside of you then lower yourself down onto his lap. The sensation of him inside you makes you feel dirty, not worthy of Vale’s favor. You are so much more than this, you tell yourself as you move your hips against his crotch.
The duke bucks back against you, pressing you into the table. You try to stop him but he only fucks you harder. Anyone looking your way would know what the duke is doing to you.
You grab the edge of the table to steady yourself, knocking over a goblet of wine in the process. The duke’s embarrassed-looking page scrambles to mop up the mess while actively avoiding acknowledging what his happening beside him. You feel the duke’s muscles clench and you stand up before he can cum inside you. His cum splatters your thigh instead.
You sit back down next to him. Your face is flushed and your breathing heavy. The duke strokes your hair gently.
“Now what was it you wanted?”
“There’s a private party upstairs,” you say, straightening your dress. “I thought you might want to attend with me.”
The duke replies, “Sorry, but I think I’ll wait to see which side has the upper hand before making any new alliances.”
“It’s not political,” you lie. “I wanted a date.”
The duke chuckles. “Maybe so, but I’m too weak to resist what those Dorians offer. It’s better I stay away.”
No matter what you say you can’t get him to go with you. You get up in disgust to search of a new target. You won’t be so careless this time, you tell yourself. You won’t be taken advantage of again.
You spot the bare-chested man from before just past a table of rowdy guards. They look to be on the prowl, snatching at any serving girl who wanders too close and catcalling some of the younger female guests. They are still sober enough to choose wisely who to harass, and the more consequential guests are spared from their hounding. You wonder if you would be a target to them.
You head to the guards’ table, but before you can place the platter down the men's hands are all over you.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you before,” says a guard with short blond hair as he hooks an arm around your waist.
An orc guard tries to pull you to him by your skirts but the blond man keeps you close.
“What’s your name?” he asks.
You mutter something incoherent as a guard with a bushy beard grabs your breasts.
“I’m James,” the blond guard tells you, swatting the bearded man away. James seems to want you to himself.
Flirt back.
Try to get away.
“There’s a private party upstairs,” you tell him, leaning close to whisper in his ear. “I thought you might want to attend with me.”
“There’s plenty of time for both,” the duke says. “Indulge me a little and I’ll be happy to go with you.”
“Wouldn’t you prefer some privacy?” you ask.
The duke chuckles. “Wouldn’t you prefer a thrill?”
You will not bend to this man’s desire for your body. Nor will you leave the feast empty-handed.
The duke pushes you. “You just need more to drink. Loosen up a bit.”
“I know where we can drink some of the best wine in the kingdom,” you offer. “Come upstairs and I’ll show you just how much fun I can be.”
You stroke his chest playfully. His cheeks go even redder than they already were from the wine. He finally agrees to go with you.
You take him by the arm and lead him out of the hall, enduring his talk about his dukedom and its fertile maidens. Though Vale didn’t tell you exactly where the private party was being held, you seem to instinctively know where to go. You lead the duke into the upper reaches of the castle, through the quiet and secluded corridors that only those intimate with the castle would know.
You pass through a stone archway draped with black curtains. Beyond is a room filled with Order members and guests from the feast. Red candles are placed on different surfaces and in sconces, and an open space has been cleared in the middle of the room. A circular symbol is carved into the stone floor. Many of the nobles are in various states of undress, occupying themselves with the shackled slaves both human and demonic that are apparently here for their entertainment.
Your gaze falls on the king seated in a plush chair, a buxom woman bobbing her head between his legs. Beside him are several uncomfortable-looking guardsmen.
Vale emerges from another doorway and greets your guest. “Please, make yourself comfortable,” he says, guiding the duke to sit on a plush lounge chair and putting a drink in his hand. He beckons over a scantily clad woman with a chain around her neck to sit on the duke’s lap, then moves you away to talk in private.
“I trust he wasn’t too unruly,” Vale looks sideways at the duke who is already pawing eagerly at his new playtoy. You think Vale might slit the man’s throat if you say otherwise.
“He wasn’t,” you reply. “Did I do well?”
Vale lifts a gloved hand to your cheek. “You did perfectly, kitten.”
His touch makes you weak, as does his praise.
“He will make a perfect sacrifice.”
Vale shouts something in Dorian and the guests clear to the edges of the room, revealing a large circular symbol carved into the center of the stone floor. The king shoes away the woman sucking his cock and tucks himself back into his robes.
Vale stands in the center of the circle. “Dear guests, it’s time for the main event.”
Two mages escort the duke from his seat to the center of the circle. He looks like he’s been drugged. There must have been something in the wine Vale gave him. The mages force him to kneel before Vale.
“As a gift of good faith from Doria to Tyven, I have offered the king that which he most desires in this world. I will give him his wife, the very queen who sadly passed away years ago.”
There are a few murmurs in the crowd, but not nearly as many as you would have expected. It seems the people of Tyven have come to accept the existence of dark magic ever since the creatures were let loose on their city. It is just as Vale planned.
“She will return to life as if she never left. She will not remember the suffering of death, only a long and peaceful sleep. The laws of magic are strict, however, and for every life we bring back we must sacrifice another.”
Vale removes a long dagger from the folds of his robe. He holds it out to you. The jewels on the pommel shine as if alive.
“Go on,” he says. “Let his blood flow free. Give Tyven back its queen.”
Sacrifice the duke.
Refuse the dagger.
His offer makes you rethink what you are doing with the Order. You can see the kindness in his eyes, the sincerity of his concern for you. He only just met you. Why should he care? Vale claims to care for you, but is always so distant. You will never be his no matter how
hard you try.
Something inside you breaks down and you realize you’ve been wrong. You want to be cared for, to be saved from your own mistakes.
“I need your help,” you tell Hawke.
He tells you not to worry. “I have to stay until the king’s announcement, but I’ll keep you safe until then. After that I’ll take you to my ship. But we have to be careful not to attract suspicion. I don’t want the Order to catch on.”
You spend some time chatting casually with Hawke, trying to control the flutters in your stomach. Already you can tell he cares for you much more than Vale ever would. It is as if fate brought you together. Perhaps the gods are watching over you after all.
Hawke gets pulled away by some prince of so-and-so and you’re left standing alone amongst the revelry. You catch the eye of a centaur sitting at the end of one of the long tables. He winks at you. Across from him are a minotaur and elven woman.
Go introduce yourself.
Stick with Hawke.
You think you could use his kind heart to your advantage.
You fake a worried frown. “Was it that obvious?” you say.
Hawke reassures you. “It was only a lucky guess. I have to stay until the king’s announcement, but I’ll keep you safe until then. After that I’ll take you to my ship.”
“I’ll be missed at the private party,” you tell him. “I have to go or I’ll be found out and punished. But I don’t want to go alone.”
Hawke replies, “Then I’ll go with you. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
It’s too easy. Hawke takes your arm and walks with you out of the hall. You can feel the jealous women staring daggers into your back as you go.
Though Vale didn’t tell you exactly where the private party was being held, you seem to instinctively know where to go. You take the sea chief up into the higher reaches of the castle, into the quiet and secluded corridors that only those intimate with the castle would know.