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[I am working on archiving thread 1, but I forgot how to do it. As soon as I have it I will link it on the thread. Thank you for playing, and I hope you enjoy the game.]

--

You wake up screaming, reaching and punching at anything and anyone. You stand up from the silk bed and grab the first person you see. You hold her dark hair in a death grip, your other hand balled into a fist. She screams and you hesitate. It is all it takes for a Qartian guard to stand up from a chair and grab you by the hands, pushing you against the bedding.

You open your mouth in a silent snarl, seriously considering the idea of biting the guard’s face off, but by now enough time has passed. You regain some clarity and look around.

Your head is hurting like hell and one of your eyes is swollen shut. The Qartian woman holding you has wide eyes, but looks like she doesn’t want a fight.

“Please, stop fighting!” You relent and she releases your hands. You notice how she didn’t go for her sword.

You recognize the other woman. It is Mira, the thronelander girl. One of Sheish’s “camp followers”, for lack of a better name. Her eyes are wide and she is trembling like a spooked rabbit. She has blood-stained clothes in her hands and the smell of medicine coming from them hangs heavily in the air. You feel a bit guilty.

You also hear a screaming match outside and realize you are in the Sheish’s wagon.

>A - Demand the guard explain what is going on. What happened?

>B - Apologize to Mira. You didn’t mean to scare her. You just had a nightmare...

>>5586738
Uh, QM, hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I do know how to archive threads and was gonna archive it as soon as I saw your bracketed comment, but I checked and it doesn't seem to be in the catalog or the expired thread archive. I think it's lost. It'll still be on archived moe, and it'd help if you saved your own work on a word doc or notepad or something and maybe if you remember the thread number you can still try archiving it, but otherwise I think it is too late.

>>5586738
>B - Apologize to Mira. You didn’t mean to scare her. You just had a nightmare...

We'll find out what happened eventually, for now make amends.

>>5586778
The thread is still archived >>5537153 (threads are also automatically archived at archived.moe). You can still add it to suptg until it 404s, which I think is two weeks after archiving.

>>5586798
Yeah, I know. I mentioned it here >>5586778 I just got confused when it didn't show up in the archive for threads that are falling off. I'm gonna try and archive it now.

Thank you for your attention, Anon. It is really appreciated.

>>5586798
Oh, I'm dumb and didn't read, your main point wasn't that it was also archived in archived.moe. I'm tired.

Anyways, thread archived: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Thronelands%20Quest

Don't forget to upvote.

>>5586738
>B - Apologize to Mira. You didn’t mean to scare her. You just had a nightmare...
>Being assaulted by guards after saving an innocent girl's life must have brought bad memories

>>5586738
>>B - Apologize to Mira. You didn’t mean to scare her. You just had a nightmare...

>>5586738
>>B - Apologize to Mira. You didn’t mean to scare her. You just had a nightmare...

>>5586738
>B - Apologize to Mira. You didn’t mean to scare her. You just had a nightmare...

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There is some hairs in your nails, now that you calmed enough to notice. You really pulled her hair that hard. Your head is still pounding away, your lip is split open and one of your eyes is almost swollen shut, but she didn't do this to you. What is more. In her hands she has remedy soaked cloth. She was clearly treating you while you were out cold. Your heart skips a beat. You look up and your eyes meet.

"I am really sorry. Mira, right? I had a very bad nightmare. Woke up blinded by it." You raise your hand halfway across the bed. You give her your best reconciliatory smile. "Could you find it in you to forgive this fool?"

For a moment she just stares back at you, eyes wide and teary. You are afraid she might storm out and shoot you down, but she soon dispels that worry. Her warm hands come down to rest on yours and you can finally see her teary face. She nods. Her weak and frail smile almost breaks your heart and you can't help but smile back.

It is then that the door swings open and another Qartian steps through. Captain Sammyak. The Sheish himself. His eyes meet yours, then Mira's, then fly back at you.

"What the fuck did you do?" His voice is almost a whisper. His hand quickly drop to his blade and he closes so fast you don't have time to answer.

Mira jumps up and stands between you and Sammyak.

"It is ok, Sammy! Just got scared! He didn't hurt me."

The Sheish looks at her, then at you and then to the guard. She gives a barely noticeable nod. He seems to deflate noticeably.

"I heard you scream and my heart almost leapt outta my chest."

"It is ok, Sammy." She says, cooing him with some light caresses behind his ear. "He didn't do nothing. It was just a bad dream."

--

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After a minute of her pampering him, the Sheish had calmed down enough to sit down and talk.

He sighs. "First, let me apologize for the actions of my men. They can be overzealous in their duty."

Or prejudiced you think. Magic users are rare all over the world, but they are an integral part of Throne's economy, politics and lifestyle. Outside of the heartlands, however, superstition and fear of magic is rampant. The ignorant will fear that which they do not know as your old master used to say.

Sammyak goes on. "You were admitted as part of the caravan. You accepted to render services to me for no other payment than clothes and the promise of my favor. Having the soldiers assault you would only be justified if you were putting the caravan at risk."

AH! There it is. The plausible justification. "That was not the case, Sheish." You voice is more stern than you intended, and you bite your tongue for it. Sammyak just nods.

"The men said you were stalking behind the Caravan." There is more than a simple question implied in that statement.

If you tell him everything, you could be stepping over some boundaries with Cashire Chet. But lying could be dangerous. Sammyak has the power, authority and skill to kill you right here, right now, for any perceived slight. Real or imagined.

You think very carefully how to proceed.

>A - Be 100% honest. The catkin merchant asked you to help his niece, who was cursed. You were disposing of the curse at a safe distance.

>B - Hide everyone's involvement. You got a hold of a cursed worm. You had to kill it where it wouldn't cause problems.

>C - Be vague. You are the only magic expert here. Tell him it was part of a ritual you had to complete to enchant his rings - Then present the rings as proof.

>D - Make something up. Write-in.

>>5587976
>B - Hide everyone's involvement. You got a hold of a cursed worm. You had to kill it where it wouldn't cause problems.

Coercive or deadly power over us or not, we're just working for the Sheish, not being his slave. Plus we were helping someone, he can think of it as a community service lol.

>>5587976
>D
>"I was taking a break between enchanting your rings, as my master taught me the importance of rest for focus, so I decided to explore the caravan and meet the beastkin merchant, as I never met their kind before. The caravan started moving after I found his assistant, who had been late to return to work, so i stayed with them. It was then that I noticed his niece and her cursed state, and seeing her great suffering, wasted no time to save her life."
>"I plea that Chet is not punished for bringing his niece. The curse that was plaguing her was not the type to spread. However, one can never be too careful while disposing of them, as is the reason I did not tarry to warn others, and the distance I ut myself from the caravan."
>"In fact, the only danger I can think of is if the guards were even more overzealous and interrupted me before I destroyed the foul thing. It fortunate that they decided to ask questions later and assaulted me only after my good deed of the day was done."

>>5588025
I suppose this is just a more coomplex A with some magic lies or not, maybe I accidentally got it right throw in to try and cover for Chet.

>>5587976
>B - Hide everyone's involvement. You got a hold of a cursed worm. You had to kill it where it wouldn't cause problems.

>>5588025
>support

Why bring the merchant's name up? And his niece on top of that.
We saw a person suffering from a curse, told them about it and got asked to rid them of it. We were in the process of exterminating it for good when we were knocked out by the guard. That's it.

>>5588045
Because I think he might not believe it, but I suppose we could try that, and only name drop if it doesn't work.

>>5587976
>B - Hide everyone's involvement. You got a hold of a cursed worm. You had to kill it where it wouldn't cause problems.

>>5588051
How would he even check if we are lying or not? We could point at any caravan member and say "He has a curse on him". It's 100% a matter of trust whether we bring up names or not.
All we did was provide a magical service to someone and rid his caravan of a curse without asking anything from him. What are we accused of even? Lagging behind a caravan?

>>5587976
>B - Hide everyone's involvement. You got a hold of a cursed worm. You had to kill it where it wouldn't cause problems.

>>5588071
>How would he even check if we are lying or not?
Ask the person that was cursed if we were lying? He could also ask around to see if other people saw us moving around. it depends how much effort he is willing to put into it.
As for just pointing to a random person and say that they were cursed, he could then ask for us to remove it. I don't know much curse how works in this setting, but the only one we seen so far made the person be ill before, we had remove it with pincers and got a worm out of it. So unless the girl's case was something special, it would be hard to pretend.
And we can only see curses using astral sight, and QM said that it would be used once cast, which is why we chose to enchant a necklace instead of using it. There is a risk he has an item enchanted with astral sight somewhere too since he and could disprove that.
Of course, he it's likely probably don't know all of these specifics, since magic is apparently rare.
>What are we accused of even? Lagging behind a caravan?
Last thread the guards that beat us up said we were a witch while doing it. So we are probably getting accused of trying to curse everyone and other nefarious magical purposes.

Anyway, I do agree that trying to not name the persons initially is worth a shot. Poor Chet doesn't deserve the scrutiny.

>>5588098
Damn, I made a bunch of writing mistakes
>>5588025
Also forgot to say I'm changing to
>B - Hide everyone's involvement. You got a hold of a cursed worm. You had to kill it where it wouldn't cause problems.
>>5588045
With this explanation of the events.

Is there something like a magical version of medical confidentiality? We could also say many people feel ashamed of being cursed or we don't want to cause more problems to someone that was suffering until recently.
I'm probably overthinking things

There is a hint on Sammyak's eyes that you are taking too long to give your answer, but he doesn't pressure you otherwise. You breath in and sigh.

"First of all," you start "I am fully aware of how magic users are viewed outside the white city. I don't blame your men for being on edge." Good. Begin by laying some common ground. If the Captain is secure that you are not going to cause trouble in his ranks he should feel much less pressed to pursue any accusations.

"You are of keen mind and great understanding, Sheish. You took me in when others would shun me. You saw value in my work and gave me a chance to prove myself." Now flatter him so he might be less inclined to disagree with you.

"I admit I pursued other avenues of employment, I am ashamed to confess." Bogwash. The Captain wouldn't expect you to work only for him, but if you look contrite about that you can elicit guilt for something you were fully in the right of doing.

"One merchant wanted me to take a look at a patient that was feeling ill from magician's fever." His eyes refocus on you, darker now. Good. Overplay your role while hiding others involvement so he has no recourse but to take your word.

"What was it?" He asks, cutting in.

"You should know how terrible a condition that is..." Another little lie. Magician's fever is a catch all term. It can be as simple as an allergy or as cruel as, well. You saw the kitling. "It was the terrible work of a curse. A rotten bloated maggot was lodged in the victim and would kill it in time." The captain is silent again. There is no benefit for lying about this part. The soldiers surely saw enough that they could confirm your story now.

"I excised it." There, show that you are not just about to lay over and overplay your usefulness. "Took it out with a pincer I made myself with a wizard's trick. Walked away from the caravan to kill it in arcane fire, so it wouldn't hurt anyone else or even stink the place."

Now, pause for effect.

"Then your men almost split my head in two." You finish, looking like a dog that had been kicked one too many times.

There is a long pause as something dark brews inside the Sheish's head. You played this conversation in your head many times now and you used all your (not insignificant) charm to reinforce your position. There should be no openings for him to gain the upper hand here. A decade working as a clerk for those snobbish nobles of Throne made you socially sharp, even if you hate all this cloak and dagger gunk. Still, the wait is making you sweat. This man could lop your head off and no one would even cry a tear. What is worse, your brother might even commend the man. Traitorous snake. You will have his neck one day, as soon as your heart is free from this hex. The Sheish sighs heavily, snapping you back to the present. Focus! you admonish yourself.

"Come with me outside, kid." He finally stands up and leads you out.

--

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The night is well underway. Campfires can be seen all around you. The wagon that the Captain uses is as opulent and decadent as the men's dressing style. Far larger than what one man would need. Of course, thinking of his tree concubines the giant carriage suddenly feels a bit tight. Still, a piece like this could go for hundreds of gold coins.

Outside you see five Qartian soldiers around a man being berated by Sara. She is Sammyak's madame. Sweet and stern, like any northerner. Has a very thick accent too. She is as red as a tomato, spitting with every breath. You can see she is almost completely exhausted from just laying it down on them, especially the one in the center. A bigger fellow who's got a good head and a half on you. You only recognize him when you get close enough and almost take a step back. Not too long ago his feet was in your stomach and his giant hands had held your mouth so tight he split your lip from the force alone. "What a brute" you think out loud.

Captain Sammyak responds without looking at you. "He is a good hearted boy. Just overzealous." The way he says boy makes you think they have a deeper relation than the old rank and file of mercenary life.

He pulls you into the circle, distracting Sara and the big fellow. She turns to look at you, tears in her eyes. "Oh thanks to d'princes!" She comes running for you, holding your hurting head in her hands and cooing you. "You alrigh' me boyin? Is it hurtin' too harsh?" The pampering makes you feel patronized.

It is Sam who takes her hands away from you and pulls her away. She is on the verge of breaking down in tears, but something tells you it isn't for worry of you, someone she met just yesterday.

"Ashlad." Sammyak calls you. "This is Sivor. He knows the penalty for assaulting someone from the caravan is the same as that of theft. It is also the same as putting the caravan in danger! Where you found out of having, indeed, being in conspiracy to curse or bespell the caravan and harm its well-being... I would be under obligation to cut off your right hand." The captain's face is a dark storm now. He pulls out his fiendishly sharp sword.

You are waiting for the other shoe to drop when you notice the big man. Northerner. Of course. Your eyes jump towards Sara being kept outside the range by the soldiers wherein. She is beyond herself, doing her best to hold her cries. Now you understand it. The penalty for bringing harm to the caravan is harsh, but the penalty for assault and murder of a member of the caravan is death. Had he killed you, and were you found innocent, his head would fall. Now he has to contend with losing a hand, which is bad enough as it is, but northerners are proud archers and fierce warriors. This would mean he would be unable to find employment or work, and it would brand him as a thief or worse.

Sam walks to you and locks eyes to yours. He hands you the sword. "He wants you to do it." Then he steps back, looking at Sivor.

What a decision...

--

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It is clear the Sheish considered you innocent from beginning and making such a strong case put him in a bind. If word of this gets out he could lose face and even the contract. However, if he doesn't do anything about it the repercussion could fall entirely on his head. Holding the Sheish's blade in your hands is more symbolic than you can give him credit for. With one word you could doom his whole livelihood.

On the other hand, you kind of need to keep a low profile. This entire debacle has already attracted enough attention and if more people gets wind of it you might be found out. That would be the worst possible outcome.

In the end you only have two choices here, but you don't need to rush it...

>A - Ask Sivor a few questions. His goddamn puppy eyes are pissing you off, let the man at least defend himself. Write-in.

>B - Forgive the brute and hand the sword back to the Sheish. It is too heavy for you anyways...

>C - What, are you supposed to feel bad for a man that almost killed you? You are brimming with anger. Off with his hand!

>>5589252
>A - Ask Sivor a few questions. His goddamn puppy eyes are pissing you off, let the man at least defend himself. Write-in.
>Why did you attack me without asking questions first?
>Why did you beat me beyond only subduing me?
>Why did you assault me in my way back, and not while I was going?

>>5589252
>C - What, are you supposed to feel bad for a man that almost killed you? You are brimming with anger. Off with his hand!
feel like there is no need to question him as it's obvious from when he hit us the guy was waiting for a chance to get us as he obviously hates magic as most people in this caravan do from our first impressions when we entered the caravan

now we should look into making a protective ring for ourselves after we finish the second ring for the Sheish, maybe we can find one out of iron should we enter a large town

>>5589252
Taking the guys hand feels like an overkill. I would support a lashing or beating but maiming is a step too far.
Please count my vote as anything but the third option. Whatever option has more votes I am supporting it.

>>5589252
Supporting >>5589259

>>5589252
>B - Forgive the brute and hand the sword back to the Sheish. It is too heavy for you anyways...

Seems like he might be Sheish's son or something. Anyway, better to keep Sheish happy and in our pocket, we lived anyway.

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"Why?" You walk up to the brutish man.

For the first time he looks up and stare you in the eyes. "W-what?" He hiccups.

"Why did you do it?" After his confusion resumes into demure resignation once again you press on. "Why did you attack me without provocation, why did you kick me down when beat me up and, most importantly of all... Why did you hit me on my way back to the caravan, not when I was walking away."

Sivor doesn't speak at first, so you press further. "Answer!" You can hear Sara sobbing, but the Sheish is completely silent behind you. Way too silent, even. As if he had become a reflection on a mirror. Sivor eventually opens his mouth.

"I saw you coming out and didn't know what you were doing. Some others came to investigate and then we saw the magic fire. I didn't know you were-" He swallows his last words. I didn't know you were working for my boss, you think.

"We thought you were a witch!" One of the men speaks and is quickly silenced by a single look from the Sheish.

"Mage." You correct him. "There are no witches in Throne. You should know this. I can understand why you would try to quickly silence and subdue a magic-user, after all I could have frozen one of you solid in a second have I been given half the chance. Or even all of you." You are pushing, but it is really not beyond what you can do.

You can see everyone is really on edge now. Magic is still seen as a supernatural power that is very ill-understood. So much for all the centuries of education, enlightenment and glory that the Principalities have given humanity, there will always be some muddy hicks who are superstitious and ignorant enough to blame all the evils of the world on the likes of you. Ignore the evil gods that walk the land, ignore the armies of roaming monsters and the foul empires that crowd the world.

You see Sara sobbing, you see the men stealing worried glances at you and Sivor. You can even feel Sammyak's eyes burning a whole on the back of your head.

You take a deep breath. It stings.

Revenge is a sweet idea to you. You were never wrathful in your writing days. Many described you as a well of patience with the mildest of manners. It trully shocked your close friends and family when you were accused of murder, followed by the escape attempt that went incredibly bad. The years after were a living hell. You guess it must have been during that time that you developed a thirst for revenge. You plotted it hundreds of times in your head. Thousands, even. How you would twist your brother's neck in your hands. How you'd topple the white towers to the ground and see all those hypocrites and demagogues burning alive for what they did to you. Some days you imagined you'd live to laugh at their horrible fates. Others you'd die with them. Never before had the thought of sparing or forgiving those bastards ever even crossed your mind. That must be why you are feeling so conflicted now.

You don't know this man and he doesn't know you. His blood means nothing to you, spilt or otherwise. Cutting off his hand for assaulting you? What a joke. You'd gladly take a hundred beatings like this if it meant you could visit even a fraction of it onto your lying brother.

You turn to Sammyak and hand his sword back. "Let him go." You say.

"It is not that simple, lad." The Sheish tells you with stony eyes. "He must be punished as decreed by the mercenary code."

I don't give a fuck about your code, you think it but don't say it out loud. "Then what. Are you just going to lose a soldier over a misunderstanding?"

The Sheish is silent.

Wait, maybe you could use this...

>A - Then give him to me. His right hand is mine now. I will put it to good use.

>B - Then dock his pay and give it to me. That is punishment enough and I have no use for his hand.

>C - Send him away, then. Don't want to see his face again, but he can keep his jerking hand.

>D - Something else? Write-in

>>5591064
>>B - Then dock his pay and give it to me. That is punishment enough and I have no use for his hand.

>>5591064
A - Then give him to me. His right hand is mine now. I will put it to good use.

If he says no otherwise
>C - Send him away, then. Don't want to see his face again, but he can keep his jerking hand.

Exile seems like a good alternative to mutilation.

>>5591064
>B - Then dock his pay and give it to me. That is punishment enough and I have no use for his hand.

Oh, and
>If taking away his pay isn't enough to appease the code, then give him a lashing. That is something that soldiers do, no?
>He is ignorant, not malicious. That is something that can be fixed.

>>5591077
Actually, that could sound condescending towards the Sheish, like he didn't train his soldiers well.
I meant to give the idea that he didn't know how to identify a witch, and that was his mistake.
And the lashing is because I don't know how mercenaries and military works, but it would be good enough punishment without it being permanent.

>>5591064
>A - Then give him to me. His right hand is mine now. I will put it to good use.

We could use a retainer.

[B and A are tied so I will combine both. Hope it is acceptable]

>>5591064
>B - Then dock his pay and give it to me. That is punishment enough and I have no use for his hand.

Don't really need it, but the simplest and nicest.

>>5591553
I'll trust you to make it work out

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A sly smile spread over your face. "You want me to fuck his livelihood? Then dock his pay and give it to me! That way he can keep his jerking off hand, you keep a soldier and he will die of hunger all the same!" You make a quick up and down movement with a closed fist.

Sammyak's brow furrows deep and his eyes are dark clouds. "The code-"

"The code says the penalty is for theft, assault or harming the caravan. I have all my things, the caravan is fine and his girly slaps barely count as a massage." One of the men chuckles quietly. The Captain shoots him down with a gaze that could kill a giant.

"No one" he continues "interrupts me." He is now looming over you, easily a head taller. "You understand." It wasn't a question. You might have overstepped.

You bow deeply. "Yes, Sheish. My apologies." He smiles. No, bastard just caught on already.

Sammyak takes a deep breath, scratching his beard in a pretense of being deep in thought. "I will do what you suggest. Sivor!"

"Yes, captain." The brute steps forward, head hanging low.

"From this day forward you receive your pay from this lad. Until a day I see fit, your survival and wellbeing depends on his fancy. You are free to go."

There is a big sobbing commotion as Sara runs in and hugs the tall northerner. She sobs and hug him tight, and kiss him on the cheeks and lips. She calls him her 'sweet stupid boy' in the northerner tongue. So that giant man came out of that small redhead girl? Hard to believe. But that would explain her emotional state and, in turn, the Sheish's grim mood and reluctance. Sivor, the brute, turns to you and nods ever so slightly mouthing a silent thank you.

"Oh, and Ashlad!" Sammyak calls. "Don't ever disrespect me like that again. Today I will let that tone slide since my men mistreated you, and you were owed an apology, boy. But don't test me, ey?" He has a smile as he admonishes you. Of course he is relieved there was no blood spilt, but you did push your luck a bit there.

You bow again. "Yes, Sheish."

Overall having a northerner archer under your thumb could prove very useful. Their giant war bows are infamous for punching through armor and they are stout folk that don't shy from physical labor and hardship. You could really use the brute in case someone else tries to get handsy with you.

The other soldiers come in and pat Sivor on the back and shake him a bit. Soon there is laughter and merriment. You quietly start to slip away before you remember the rings in your pocket. The Sheish's rings...

>A - Give him his rings now. That would be a good excuse not to have to come deal with him later.

>B - Keep them, at least for now, and just sneak out. You have a headache and could use a good night's sleep.

>>5591641
>A - Give him his rings now. That would be a good excuse not to have to come deal with him later.

>>5591641
>B - Keep them, at least for now, and just sneak out. You have a headache and could use a good night's sleep.
We're still aight with him, we can talk alter

>>5591641
>A - Give him his rings now. That would be a good excuse not to have to come deal with him later.

Why wait around and risk them being stolen? Just hand them over if we aren't going to make use of them in the meantime.

>>5591641
>>B - Keep them, at least for now, and just sneak out. You have a headache and could use a good night's sleep.
It was said that for a common mage enchanting the rings would take 2 weeks. We weren't with the caravan for even a week. Giving the rings now would attract a whole lot of attention that our character seemingly wants to avoid.

>>5591641
>B - Keep them, at least for now, and just sneak out. You have a headache and could use a good night's sleep.

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The rings will remain with you, for now. No need to call any more attention to you.

You walk away from the Sheish's wagon. It is really a magnificent piece. Like a house on wheels, it has divisions and windows and even a well appointed cooking area. A small family could live in one of these for their entire lives without much need or want.

The night air is filled with the smoky scent of food and you can feel your stomach growling in protest. It rivals your splitting headache for biggest annoyance of the night. All these things happening to you so fast left you with an emotional fatigue. Not only the beating you took, but also the rapid use of spells and enchantments, and all the social finagling you have been doing. You only really stopped to catch your breath and because your vision was blurry, but it seemed enough for someone to catch up with you. For a moment you think it is the Sheish or one of his goons, so you turn to face them with a face that shows little friendliness.

You are in turn completely surprised when a redhead woman embraces you fully, kissing you on the lips and nose and cheeks. It is enough to drive all thought from your head and the air from your lungs. It has been over a decade since you felt the touch of a woman like this.

Sara grabs your face on her hands and you can see her makeup ruined by crying. "Thank you, boyin- no, Ashlad. You spared me own boyin'. Dinnae have to, but did anyway. D'other lasses are awaitin' for you. Lets us treat your wounds, least for d'night." She looks you with genuine affection and concern. The worry of a mother. It evokes a dark feeling at the pit of your stomach.

"I really shouldn't, ma'am-"

"Nonsense, Ashlad. Please?" She begs with those puffy green eyes, ruined by crying her heart out.

You swallow. It is true you are hurting like all hell and you could use a hot meal and a warm bed.

[02/11 Health, and 30/100 Fatigue. Big ol' Sivor the Brute rolled a 10 for damage, dealing 9 damage to your nogging on his ambush. If health reaches 0, attacks deal critical damage. Like losing a leg, an arm or breaking your ribs. Wounds recover at a pace of 1 per day, or twice that with medical care. There are ways to heal wounds, even the most sever ones, but they are rare.]

>A - Sleep with the Sheish's girls and let them treat you. At least for a night.

>B - Gently decline Sara's offer and make your way back to the beastkin merchant.

>C - You are feeling mighty anti-social tonight. Decline Sara and go sleep by yourself again.

>D - Something else? Write-in

>>5592903
>B - Gently decline Sara's offer and make your way back to the beastkin merchant.

>>5592903
>A - Sleep with the Sheish's girls and let them treat you. At least for a night.

May as well get the best care we possibly can. We'll heal faster and avoid risking running into anyone else who wants to split our skull. We're injured, so there's no way the Sheish will think something absurd like we are sleeping with his concubines.

>>5592903
>A - Sleep with the Sheish's girls and let them treat you. At least for a night.
Get those heals

>>5592918
That's a good point, I was worried about how forward Sara was, but we are too injured to do anything.
I don't to risk making things awkward with both our boss and our new underling
>>5592906
>A - Sleep with the Sheish's girls and let them treat you. At least for a night.
So I'll change to

>>5592903
>A - Sleep with the Sheish's girls and let them treat you. At least for a night.

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With a resigned breath you accept her offer, and the Matron takes you inside again.

This is the second time this woman has dragged you inside and pampered you like a child. You thought at least this once you'd keep your composure, but it has really been so long since you had any sort of intimacy. Whenever they lay but a finger on you you're already flushed and at attention. At least this time they seem to ignore it instead of teasing you and giggling at you. It helps that you are in a lot of pain to care too much about being stripped and handled by the girls.

Sara and Mira were very demure this time, probably thanks to seeing how shaken you were, but the third one - the dark skinned Qartian Cora - was entirely over you. She touched you in inappropriate places twice and even went as far as disrobe and show her chest. Her teasing and touching got so infuriating that you had to put a stop to it and stood up suddenly, pushing Cora off of you. Sara, Mira and Cora all stop dead in their tracks and look on with worried expressions.

"Enough!" You break the silence that falls. "Why are you doing this? I am no kid! Can't you see your touch is uncomfortable when I can't take my release? What would the Sheish say if he caught his women crawling over me?" You started laying it thick on them, your eyes as strict as your master's once were when he were chewing you in your youth.

In turn, you are met with nothing but confusion until Mira says "Ah! We are sorry, Ashlad, sir!" She quickly pulls the other girls into another room. "Don't move, we be right back with you!"

Now it is your time to be perplexed. Did you do something wrong? Were you too harsh? They are talking about something just out of your hearing range, and you still have a raging excitement bothering you between your legs, so you just sit there uncomfortably. Still, you agreed to lay here tonight. You won't go back on your word, but surely they can lay off of their teasing for a bit.

It is not long after the three of them came back, Cora still having her chest out. They all sit around you and bow their heads. You can't help but feel even more flushed. Mira is the first to speak.

"We are madly sorry. The three of us didn't know better to explain our position to you."

"D'old pirate ain't our man, Ashlad. He's our handler." Sara says with a smile.

What?

Cora continues. "We be free to lay with anyone, if we pay a share to Sammy." Mira follows right after.

"But we ain't whores or harlots, we're free to deny company to anyone we don't want to have. And we thought you didn't like me and Shara, so we let Coriander take care of ya!"

You look at the three with befuddled eyes. Are they saying they would lay with you were you to ask? That is an absurd! Sara has a son, that just a moment ago slapped you unconscious. They live with the Sheish! How can they be so inconsiderate?

--

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[Just to make sure, these women are entertainers, not concubines. They can take care of Ashlad, or "take care" of Ashlad, according to your wishes. You have been nothing but gentle with them and merciful to their loved ones.]

>A - Absolutely not! Out! All three of them. You want to sleep and just be done with this day.

>B - You don't care. You were engaged once and all those promises of eternal love crumbled like sandcastles. They can stay, but you just want to go to sleep.

>C - What would lead someone to choose this life? Maybe it is better to get to know these three. Ask them some questions and listen to their stories. (You can ask anything you want to know)

>D - Something else? Don't be afraid to write-in.

>>5593696
So the Shiesh is their pimp. Huh.

>C - What would lead someone to choose this life? Maybe it is better to get to know these three. Ask them some questions and listen to their stories. (You can ask anything you want to know)

How each of them ended up here is a decent topic.

>>5593705
Support
>>5593696
This update made me laugh, good job Storyteller

>>5593696
>B - You don't care. You were engaged once and all those promises of eternal love crumbled like sandcastles. They can stay, but you just want to go to sleep.

>>5593696
>D - Yes, we'll take all three for tonight.

"You call this being my right hand, Sivor? Your mother did a better job last night!"

>>5593696
Supporting >>5593705

Honestly tempting, but having sex while injured just isn't a good time. It just isn't worth it, the pain will spoil everything.

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There is a strange pain in your shoulders and it takes you a few seconds to notice you were tensing this entire time. It really has been too long since you had been around people socially. You used to be the life of the party, but now even simple interactions leave you stressed and drained.

You smile in resignation and lay back against the pillow bed. You can't see the girls while staring at the ceiling, and eventually you relax enough that even your excitement cools down. They must think you are a real odd fellow. Insane old man screaming at prostitutes for being unfaithful... Or maybe young virgin boy so shy he broke decorum.

"Ashlad?" Mira brings you out of your thoughts. As you climb back into a sitting position you can see Cora (or Coriander) covered herself again. They are looking at you, a bit dejected, a bit confused.

"What's your story?" You ask in an impulse. They seem even more puzzled by your question than by your silence. You reiterate. "I want to know more about you three."

Finally, their faces resolve into a smile. Mercenaries, travelers and all forms of never-do-wells often hire these women to talk to them, share their bed and partake of their company. You finally gave them something they can work with, something they are proficient and familiar with, and it really shows. In a heartbeat they fly to your side and began pampering you again. They lay you down, caress your bruises with wet and sweet smelling clothes, run fingers over your hair and feed you fresh fruits. All the while talking to you - or more at you - in a charming manner that makes you smile. All things considered, it is very calming.

They talk about themselves, where they came from. Your original assumptions were half-right.

Cora is a Qartian. Was born into slavery, so when her owner's family moved to Throne they had to emancipate her. It was a mixed blessing, since while Throne disallows the ownership of other humans, it also gives the new elevated slaves no safety net or security. Without means - or reason - to care for her, Cora was abandoned on the streets. She spent some awful years there before tagging along with the caravans that travel in and out of the city. Throne is trully gigantic. The city spans over 1000 kilometer square and at its highest point, Throne is over 7 kilometers high. Cora travelled most of it before she met Sammyak. It was Sara and Mira who took her in. This is her first caravan outside of the City of White Stone. You assumed she would be from the western countries considering how thick her accent is, but during her recounting you got a glimpse of the true girl - of Coriander - under there, and you assume she is reinforcing her accent to appear more exotic.

--

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Mira, or Allumira, is from the heartlands around Throne. Her mother was a widower, with no lands and no family - meaning she was a bed warmer too. She never met her father, probably some boy or old man that her mother was staying with at some time or another. She still did her best to raise her "little blessing" as she called her. When Mira was old enough her mother sent her away to get an education, but it didn't work out. She could take classes, but no master would take her as an apprentice. The stigma of her origins made sure to color her every interaction. You have experienced the hypocrisy and prejudice of the old masters yourself, so you feel for her. She just laughs it off. First opportunity she had, she took off and never looked back. She has been with Sara and Sammy since then.

You can't help but feel you treated her, and the others, unjustly too. Why should you judge them by the strict and (quite frankly) often absurd customs of Throne. You spent your entire adulthood in the streets of white stone, but you do remember a more idyllic life in the farms far from the oppressive towers. When you were young, your family was together and your brother was the sun of your life...

Hum. Just thinking about it is enough to make your stomach boil. You listen back into the girls talking to distract from those dark thoughts.

Sara is the one with the most winters under her belt. She says her name was once Shara Eidiannsdah - which means Eidi's daughter. She grew up in the far north, where the sun is weaker and the sea is full of ice. Beyond the Greenwater Bay, there is a large sea - the Cold Sea. It is so big and so old that it's home to monsters of olden ages. You heard a lot of sailor's tales about giant krakens, mermaids and worse things that dwell in the dark waters of the Cold Sea. You always thought these monsters were long gone from the earth, but today you know better... She says she grew in one of the more fertile islands that dot around the northern continent, her and her family. Her father was a warrior and her mother a spinster. She recounts with a strange sense of nostalgia about her days in that distant land. Eventually, a neighboring island grew jealous of their prosperity and happiness and took them by Iron and storm. She was clasped in irons and sold in the Qartian markets to the south. Her Sammy bought her because of a drunken bet. She laughs at it, but says at first she hated him. She tried to run away many times, even attacked him with his own sword once! But he never raised a fist at her. Quite the contrary, 'D'old pirate' - as she calls him - has always treated her as a princess. When he came to the Thronelands for work, it was required he emancipated her, and he did so without hesitation.

--

She has been taking care of his affairs for 7 years now. She is his quartermaster and mistress-of-coin, and the girls here all work for her, not him. They are six in total, including two more you haven't met yet. By law they have to work for him, but in practice, they are their own agents.

That is a very heartwarming story, you think, although you are left with some questions still. But your eyes are heavy and your belly is full, your feet are warm and you are as comfortable as a chick in a coop. Maybe it is best to just drift into sleep and leave your questions for tomorrow?

>A - It is late, you are warm, you are tired. Go to sleep and let the day be over.

>B - Ask how come Sivor is an adult, if she has been with the Caravan for only 7 years?

>C - Two more? You met Sara, Cora and Mira. Who is the sixth then?

>D - You are free to choose a girl, if you want, and have the money to pay her. [You have 2 silver and 1 copper coins. You don't think that is enough for them.]

>>5594696
>B - Ask how come Sivor is an adult, if she has been with the Caravan for only 7 years?
>C - Two more? You met Sara, Cora and Mira. Who is the sixth then?

>>5594696
>C - Two more? You met Sara, Cora and Mira. Who is the sixth then?
>A - It is late, you are warm, you are tired. Go to sleep and let the day be over.
Sleep

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[A bit of a weak update. Sorry for that. I will try to do better.]

Mira tells you of the missing girls. Right now, they are either working for the Caravan Master or watching over the soldiers, which leads them to introduce you to Medana. She was that Qartian guard that was with you when you woke up. You couldn't see her face thanks to her veil and headgear, but she had serious eyes. She was always a soldier, even before joining them. That is very rare for a Qartian. Women in the Thronelands and in the far north have always had far more rights than in Qart Hadasht.

The other two you will meet eventually, promises Mira, while scratching your scalp with her nails. The feeling gives you goosebumps.

Sara decides not to bore you with the story of Sivor, but he is not her child. The Sheish adopted him when he was already ten. Found him begging on the streets for food, thin as a scarecrow. Sara took care of him as her own child, since she lost her own when her hometown was raided.

The other girls continue to gush about how tall he became and that he would make a handsome husband when he retires.

You begin tuning out until sleep takes you away.

--

You wake up with a sore throat and between sweat covered sheets. Your eyes move around, from corner to corner, looking for invisible nightmares that slowly but surely give way to your real surroundings.

It is not one of the three girls that wakes you up, but a Qartian woman wearing mercenary armor. Medana, you think. You slowly remember the past night while finding your bearings.

"Nightmares again?" Medana asks.

"Yes. Nightmares again." You respond. You don't remember the dreams this time, thankfully.

You look her in the eyes. As you remember, her eyes are serious and stony, but also soft around the edges. Even kind, one could say. She has unwashed locks of hair tied at the back of her head. Why doesn't she just shave them? Maybe she has her womanly vanity. Your fiancé used to take hours combing her long black hair in front of the mirror every morning. You never understood it.

"It is almost sunrise." Medana steps over her pillows and grab a cooking pot. "Help me with breakfast." It didn't sound as a question, but she moves on without waiting for an answer.

You notice she has not an ounce of an accent, unlike Coriander.

[You recovered 2 health and 20 fatigue, despite the nightly terrors. 4/11 health, 10/100 fatigue.]

>A - Sure. You could eat something, and you are feeling better.

>B - Decline and go outside to wait in line for the morning rations of bread and water. You don't really want to be around soldiers right now.

>C - Just hang around Medana and watch her cook. She is strangely attractive in her man-like clothes.

>D - Write-in.

>>5596434
>A - Sure. You could eat something, and you are feeling better.

>>5596434
>>A - Sure. You could eat something, and you are feeling better.

>>5596434
>A - Sure. You could eat something, and you are feeling better.
>She is strangely attractive in her man-like clothes.

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"Sure." You say.

Medana is so efficient that within the minute you are both cutting vegetables and meats into a boiling pot of broth. In the twenty minutes it takes you to finish preparations you have worked a healthy appetite. Watching the woman work was also a bonus treat. She is fit and reasonably tall, and her manly clothing betray a hidden femininity that you get to glimpse as she cooks.

You take a seat on a small log while she cross her legs on the dew-wet grass.

"Are the others not going to join us?" You ask.

"No. They sleep in."

You glance around you looking for the Sheish or signs of anyone you recognize but seems you two are alone, for now. "Captain sleeps in too." Medana says, guessing your concerns. You shrug.

The food is very well seasoned with all sorts of spices from the west - peppers, roots and leaves with sweet, spicy and savory smells. The meat and vegetables melt in your mouth like butter. It feels good finally eating well for once.

After you are done, Medana washes your dishes. She gathers three full plates and dexterously takes them inside on one arm. If that woman is half as good with her sword as she is with food you'd dread to be her enemy.

As the sky turns a pinksh red, then a light blue, you contemplate your day ahead of you. You can hear the women waking up from the windows of the wagon.

"Breakfast in bed, huh? They sure have a good life here." You think out loud.

"They do." You turn around to see who was eavesdropping on your moment of peace, and see Sivor approaching. He looks like a mistreated dog. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."

"You didn't." You respond.

He seems to want to talk, but doesn't have the balls to come forth and say it outright. You assume he is either too proud to ask for some food, or doesn't want you around. For a moment you forgot that you also hold the boy's pay. That could be it too.

Daddy Sammyak cut you off, boy, and now you come crawling to butter up the man that holds your purse by the nuts. Those are some petty words, but your still hurting bruises justify a little pettiness, you think.

>A - Fuck him. Get up and make yourself scarce. You will deal with him when you have to. Go back to the master Chet, he must be worried.

>B - Resign yourself and invite Sivor to eat. Might as well introduce yourselves now and get it over with.

>C - Ignore Sivor and get yourself another serving. If he wants to talk, he will have to find his own courage and humility.

>D - Something else?

>>5597083
>C Ignore Sivor and get yourself another serving. If he wants to talk, he will have to find his own courage and humility.

>>5597083
>>B - Resign yourself and invite Sivor to eat. Might as well introduce yourselves now and get it over with.

>>5597083
>B - Resign yourself and invite Sivor to eat. Might as well introduce yourselves now and get it over with.

>>5597083
>B - Resign yourself and invite Sivor to eat. Might as well introduce yourselves now and get it over with.

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You sigh and fill another plate with the tasty soup. "Please, sit." You point another log to Sivor and hand him the plate. "Let's talk."

The tall man is taken a bit by surprise, but he quickly recovers and sit down obediently. You observe him looking at the stew with a face you can't really make out. Maybe he doesn't like stew?

"Don't waste food. You never know what your next meal will be."

He nods. "She smiled all day, and by night would drink nothing but tear soup."

An old wives' tale. A girl that was so carefree that she would skip meals to play, and by night would have nothing to eat, just to repeat it all over the next day. There are many versions, in some she learn her lesson, in others she dies of hunger.

"That is a story from the heartlands, isn't it? Do they tell it in the northern isles?"

Sivor shakes his head, filling his mouth with a spoonful and then doing a funny blowing sound. "Oh! Hot." He is acting more like his age now. "Dunno. Never been there. Grew up near the Greenwater, in the heartlands. Mom- I mean, madame Sara, told me it when I was a wee lad."

You two exchange tales about your homelands. You too grew up in the countryside and you find you both have a lot of similar stories. Stealing away by daylight to run in the meadows and valleys or go swimming in the rivers and returning by night only to be chastised for skipping your duties. Everyone was young once, and irresponsible. You spend a few minutes enjoying the brute's company, to your surprise. You didn't think you'd enjoy a conversation with a savage pile of muscles the size of a tree trunk, but you two have a lot more in common than you first thought.

"Sara said the Sheish found you on the streets of Throne." You say. There is a 'what happened?' unspoken question and Sivor laughs.

"Ran away from home. Nothing back there for me, so I took a buncha food and made my way to the White Stone City. Thought I was hot shit, but was just a kid then. Didn't know better." He refills his empty plate for the second time. Boy sure has an apetite. "Even back then I could trade punches with the grown ups. But soon food ran out. I got weaker and weaker, tried to steal but got caught, then tried to beg. Shortly after, Sam- I mean, the Captain, found me and took me in." He swallows the last bits of stew from his plate and puts it down.

You nod. Lucky boy. How many more had died in similar circumstances. Still, peculiar that a 10 year old kid would leave home just like that.

>A - Ask another question? About his parents, his hometown, his peculiar looks or something else? Feel free to ask anything you are curious about.

>B - This is enough chit-chat for now. Say your pleasantries and go see Cashire.

>C - Something else? Write-in.

>>5601131
>A - Ask another question? About his parents, his hometown, his peculiar looks or something else? Feel free to ask anything you are curious about.
>So which weapons do you use?
>Did you ever pass by your old home while being a caravan guard? I imagine it would be an awkward reunion if you did.

>>5601131
>>A - Ask another question? About his parents, his hometown, his peculiar looks or something else? Feel free to ask anything you are curious about.
> Why so heavy-handed?

>>5601131
>B - This is enough chit-chat for now. Say your pleasantries and go see Cashire.