Elsewhere in Enferia...

((This thread is not really a participatory one...for now...it chronicles some behind-the-scenes action that may or may not have bearing on other things.))

Hilevi had never been so humiliated in her life, and her nipples, her backside, and every hole in her body hurt.  She was still coverered in pie and paint, although she'd removed the candle, the ornamental clamps, and the hat as soon as she left the tavern.  She swore revenge on that damned orc, the witch who punished her so cruelly, and that fat pie-girl who interrupted her fight.  She was in such a state when the city-guard arrived, that they had a good laugh.  Since she already lived in the arena prison, and presumably didn't want to go anywhere else in the state she was in, they said she didn't need an escort home.  Buxom belle had given the guards free drinks for their trouble.

Hilevi garnered a lot of stares, rude comments, and one or two gropes as she walked from the tavern.  The gropers had their hands severly crushed, but there was little she could do about the looks and comments.  She was glad it was as late as it was and more people weren't on the streets to witness her shame.  That's when, drunk as she was, her sense of danger kicked in.

Ahead of her, up the street, staring from an even darker alley, was a black--cloaked figure.  Hilevi's combat sense told her right away that it was a woman, and unusually agile.  It held the kind of stance her trained eye associated with master-assassins and master-thieves.

Hilevi was drunk, exhausted, degraded, and unarmed.  This did not look good.  To make matters worse, the figure left the alley and walked toward her.  Her muscles prepared to spring into action.  But before she could do anything, the figure spoke.  "Peace, Warbringer, not having the best evening I take it."  "Out of my way, I'm in no mind to trifle with your kind."  "My kind?  How do you know what kind I am?"

Hilevi spat on the ground and tried to continue walking around the figure, but with almost unimaginable speed, the woman was in front of her again.  "Like I said, you're not having a very good night, are you?" she said, pointing at the paint, the reddened nipples, the whole picture.  Hilevi realized she wasn't going to give up, so she responded, "You could say that."  "I bet you really want revenge on those who did this to you...you know, the orc, the witch, the tavern maid..."  Hilevi gasped a bit.  "How do you...were you there?"  "I'm a lot of places," the cloaked figure said, with an intentionally mysterious air.  "Leave me alone, I want to go home and clean up, and rest."  "Well, you see, I can help with that.  Your desire for revenge suits my employer's need for skilled help."

"This is not the time to offer me a job."  "On the contrary...come with me, we'll have you bathed, and see to any medical needs you might have....then, my employer will present you with an offer--a very good offer.  You'll be swimming in money for whatever you want to spend it on."

"Tell me where to meet this employer," Hilevi said, "and I'll come back tomorrow."  "Oh, friend, it's not that kind of offer.  Come with me, right now, if you wish to learn of it.  You can choose to accept it or not once we've cleaned you up and you've heard the details."

Hilevi sighed.  "This better not be a trap, or--"  "Don't worry, friend, your reputation for martial prowess precedes you...in spite of your little...mishap at the tavern."  "I was drunk, and outnumbered!"  "Yes, indeed..."  "Don't talk about that anymore."

The cloaked figure led her through a series of dark alleys she'd never be able to remember, up over the roofs of some low houses, into what seemed to be a rich neighborhood that was still on the edge of the slums.  Entering into a large but very dark mansion, the cloaked figure ordered servants to bathe Hilevi.  She had no clothes to speak of, except for rags and those ignominiously-embroidered panties, so she didn't mind letting go of them.  In the warm bath, the servants washed every inch of her meticulously, although she pushed them away whenever one of them got near her sore nipples, genitals, or anus.

She was then provided with a soft white blouse, and a partially-armored corset and skirt that seemed to have been made to her dimensions.  The outfit had tones of black and crimson, the colors on the banner of her recently-destroyed mercenary troop, and was rather lavishly made.

When she was dressed, the servants ushered her into a hallway where the cloaked figure stood before her.  She could see a strand of jet-black hair falling in front of the hidden face, and occasionally, she'd see the glint of rather large eyes looking her over.  "I take it the bath was to your liking?"  "You seem to know my name, but I don't know yours."  "You can call me Whisper."  "Whisper?"  "Yes," Whisper whispered.  Then, in a more commanding tone, she said, "let's go see what my employer has in store."

She led her to a large room, with a fireplace.  The general ambience was much brighter than in the other parts of the mansion.  There, standing before her, were three large women with swords, dressed as she now was.  Mercenaries, she understood by their body language.  She prepared to fight.  "Again, peace, Warbringer" the cloaked figure laughed at the irony.  "You have not been brought here to be harmed."  Another voice, coming from somewhere nearby, but unseen said, "Are they to your liking?  Witness, the Crimson Hammer reborn!  This and more will come to pass, if you accept my offer."  "Who are you?" Hilevi shouted out, unnecessarily as the voice wasn't that far away.  "I'm sorry that you will only learn that, after you commit to my offer," it replied.

"Explain your terms," Hilevei said, clearly frustrated.

"You will continue to fight in the arena, as you've already been sentenced to.  But you will fight there for me.  I offer you these women to rebuild your mercenary band.  They were mercenaries, before, but were sentenced to life in a dungeon cell.  I had their sentence commuted to living in the arena prison, and fighting there for shows.  They are your to command, with certain understandings.  Firstly, the four of you will be my bodyguards and enforcers when necessary.  If I need something done less subtly than Whisper here would do it, you and your mercenaries will do it.  Secondly, I might make certain demands of you in arena bouts.  I might encourage winning, or discourage losing.  Third, you disclose nothing about me our our business relationship.  Although the public will no doubt make certain inferences when I sponsor you in the arena, you will neither confirm or deny and rumors, nor provide more information on the matter."

"A gag order," Whisper said, smiling knowingly at Hilevi.  Hilevi caught the joking reference to her ordeal earlier, and glared at the cloaked figure.  

The unseen voice continued: "I will provide you with a stipend that will make you wealthy among the citizens of Enferia.  Unfortunately, you will still have to live in the arena prison, but you'll be able to entertain yourself, provide your quarters with luxury, and maybe even buy your way out of trouble every now and then.  I will provide arms and armor.  How do you like the new Crimson Hammer uniforms?  I designed them myself.  Skirts long on the back to protect modesty, but short enough in the front to allow free movement."

Hilevi nodded in agreement, less interested in the fashion than the deal she was making.

"I accept your terms...but I need to know who I'm working for."  The cloaked figure provided her with a quill, and a written contract.  Scanning the language, Hillevi realized that she was signing something more dire than a legal document.  It had the language one might expect from some sort of infernal pact.  Still, after the night she had, she saw little better option coming her way.  She signed.

The cloaked figure pulled back her hood, and, taking the papers with her left hand, shaked Hillevi's right.  "Welcome."

"Let's meet your team.  This one is Giuliana," she started, pointing to the dreadlocked mercenary.  "This is Sarasia, and this is Pameleine," she
gestured to the red haired woman then the raven-haired.

"We're pleased to meet you," Sarasia spoke up, "We've heard of your deeds for years, and pleased to have you as our leader."  Hillevi was pretty sure she saw Giuliana grimace during that last part.

"We hear you want revenge on a certain tavern maid," Giuliana said, "The one who took us down and had us thrown in the dungeons."  "I'll get that orc if it's the last thing I do!" Hillevi agreed.  Giuliana looked confused.  "Orc?  What do you mean?"

It was then that their "employer" decided to show herself.  "Welcome, Warbringer," she said.  "I trust you find our recruits to your liking?  I may have some more friends for you to play with soon, but these are under your command."  Again, Giuliana's face scowled a bit and the reference to the new chain of command.

"I," said the black-draped woman, spinning as if presenting herself before a ballet, "am Zoraida, known as the Inexorable, Queen of Nysia."
Hillevi was impressed at the beautiful face before her, and sizing her up, imagined that those black robes held an amazingly curvacious body.  She bit her lip.  Remembering her manners, she bowed a little, "Your highness."

A week later, Wanda was led to the mansion by the Ebon Whisper, who had been training her in combat, climbing, and the use her blade daily. The blade enjoyed this, and made it known, often giving loud advice. The spy didn't think Wanda was ready for lessons in stealth yet, she needed to be fitter than she was. But Zoraida had asked to meet her, and her agent complied.

Led into the well-appointed room with the fireplace, Wanda was confused, and a bit taken aback when a beautiful and curvaceous woman dressed in black clothes of regal quality entered. The Ebon Whisper, now known to Wanda as Makurro, forced her into a bow and said, "Meet your benefactor, Zoraida, Queen of Nysia!"

Wanda didn't know what to say, and remained in the bow until bidded rise by the queen. "So, you are Wanda. I've seen you before. I've seen you in the arena." Wanda turned her gaze to the floor, and tried to hold back tears.

"Yes, that was not the most successful of ventures...but you were pretending to be what you are not. In fact, you were a fat, clumsy schoolgirl, behaving as though you were a legendary rogue...and you paid for it. I did not bring you here to relive that day. You're not ehre because of who you were that day, or who you are now. You're here because of who you can be."

Wanda remained silent, but seemed intrigued by the last part. She maintained her downcast gaze.

"You see, your bloodline is very special. That's why the night you were arrested, I had Makurro here steal the artifact you intended to get, right from under the noses of the guards who arrested you."

"The dagger," Wanda said.

"Damn right it's the dagger! Figure it out, girlfriend" said a sultry female voice. Wanda jerked her head in the direction of the voice, "But how, they don't let me bring it out?" Makurro handed her the dagger, while Zoraida smiled and replied, "she has her ways. Do you know why she'd been training you, protecting you?"

Wanda remained silent. "Whose dagger was this, Wanda...you must know."

"My grandmother's." "Yes, and she was who...."

The dagger apparently couldn't take it anymore, "The Red Rose! Your grandmother was the Red Rose." "What?"

Zoraida continued, "Sure, all kids grow up on the tales of her deeds, but didn't you think your family was a little too into it? Didn't you wonder why you have all that rose underwear? Didn't they tell you?"

Wanda sounded uncertain, "no..."

Zoraida pulled a lever, and a section of the bookcase flipped around, revealing a costume not unlike the one Wanda had made herself, but a few sizes too small, and much better made. "This is her armor. Do you know why I have it?"

Wanda shook her head.

"The Red Rose, do-gooder rogue, scourge of the corrupt nobility," Zoraida laughed, "she had a benefactor. Someone who equipped her, smoothed over any problems that would have kept her from being the Red Rose."

Wanda looked like she suddenly had an epiphany. "YOUR grandma?"

Zoraida scowled. "Close enough. Do you know WHY Nysia supported the Red Rose?"

Again, if Wanda had any guesses, she kept silent.

"Because she was a revolutionary. And because she worked in Enferia. Yes, she helped the peasants, yes, she was a heroine to the poor, but she also harassed the nobles, captured their shipments, and generally made it hard for them to build the kind of strength that could have threatened Nysia. And she helped because her heart was pure, and she thought she was doing the right thing. But she didn't know what you now know..."

Wanda looked at the queen, wide-eyed, as she continued her monologue. "YOU will be the Red Rose now. YOU will carry the legend. And why will you do it, knowing what I just told you? Because you have no other choice. You're a LOSER who inherited greatness and did nothing with it. Now your family is in prison, and you're forced to fight in that arena. Becoming the Red Rose would give you something else, a tiny shred of dignity they can't take away from you as easily as baring your gigantic buttocks and pulling on your pubic hair...."

Tears formed in Wanda's eyes. "You're crying, because you know I'm right...you'll continue your training with Makurro here. And you will run missions for me...with her, until your training is over. Someday, you'll fit your grandmother's armor. Don't worry, you'll get there in time--she was quite athletic but FAR from skinny. Only a woman of your bloodline can wear it; your mother was not of this line, and your father was not woman enough for it. It is highly magical, and can help you a great deal. But you don't put on the costume and become Red Rose...that's why you failed so humiliatingly last time. You become Red Rose, THEN put on the costume."

Zoraida's voice became more theatrically ominous as she entered the coda of her monologue. "Become Red Rose for me, become a living legend, the symbol that empowers people against their corrupt leaders. Do this for me, and I'll provide wealth you can't imagine. Fail me, and learn the consequences."

Zoraida retired to her chambers as Makurro led Wanda out to the street, where she helped her hide her dagger for a return to her quarters at the arena.

Zoraida looked in her mirror and smiled at a job well-done. Soon, the Red Rose would be back, and every peasant in Enferia would be looking for the fair shake the nobility wouldn't give them.

A light knock on her door was not unusual. "Come in, Makurro. What have you learned?" "Some of our people have been frequenting the Ripped Bodice. I don't think it's safe for them to talk there; I don't know how much has leaked already. Do you want me to investigate?"

Zoraida frowned, "Do so, but bring a dupe...not Wanda, someone competent, someone who could take the fall while you disappear." "I won't get caught, your majesty." "You think so? Well, I leave it to your discretion, but don't take unnecessary risks."

Makurro nodded, "I'll leave you to your sleep, your majesty, but I think tonight we should double the guard."

Zoraida yawned and nodded, as Makurro left the room.

Meanwhile, in a secluded corner of the Ripped Bodice, a young woman in purple was meeting with an armored elf with strange face paint.  "Are you certain of this?" said the Elf, surreptitiously.  The woman nodded gravely.  "I've met at least four of them.  A healer works at her castle."  "A healer? Do you know her name?" "I believe it's Mandara, or something." "Manda? My niece Manda is a healer. She's only two years younger than I am. Tell me, is she always annoyed and abrasive?" "Always, that's her." "And you certain she's working against her will?"  "Well, she escaped twice.  The first time she served a day in the stocks as punishment.  The second, she was caned until she couldn't sit down."  "Why would she trust a healer who is a slave?  Doesn't she worry about retaliation?  Poison?"  "The queen doesn't use the healer, she heals using her own magics.  The healer is for her staff, and crossing her by harming one of her staff would bring her wrath down."

The elf nodded.  "If you are certain that these are my people, I must find my way there immediately and free them."  The woman frowned, "There's no way.  Zoraida commands an army three times the size of this kingdom's.  You wouldn't make it into the castle, and if you did, none of you would make it out alive."

The elf took a long, hard drink from her tankard, a sorrowful look in her eyes.  "But there is a way..."  "I'm willing to listen."

"If your elves were freed by a decree from the queen..."  "And just how are we supposed to get her to do that?  Blackmail?"  "Close.  What if someone else was the queen?"

In her back room, watching her crystal ball, Brandywine nearly spit out her mead.  She was familiar with the elf.  The elf, Miryala, had first come here a few years ago, looking for the mages who had kidnapped her people en masse.  She found out little, save for that they were sold as slaves in another land.  She came in the tavern at least once a week, looking for new people who might know something.  This was the first time she'd gotten anywhere.  The woman in purple had only been her a few times.  She usually saddled up to someone who seemed to have martial or magical prowess, and asked vague questions.  This was suspicious enough to make Brandywine keep an eye on her.  But it wasn't every day that an innkeeper overheard a plot for regicide.  She was immediately conflicted.  "There must be some way to profit from this information," she said out loud, to no one in particular.  "If the plot is likely to fail, I tip the queen off and claim a reward, and maybe some favor with the powerful.  If it's likely to succeed, I have a very careful messenger tell them that someone knows, and demand regular payment.  But which is it?"

She pulled a lever than rang a small bell behind the bar.  Niniane knew the meaning of the bell, as did Buxom Belle.  When it rang, Niniane made he way to a meeting room just before the fully private sanctum of Brandywine's office.  Belle typically made a show of her cleavage popping out of her blouse a bit at that time, to keep the patrons from wondering where Niniane was going.  So far, it had always worked.

A few days later, Makurro led Hilevi and the new Crimson mercenaries into the Ripped Bodice. Makurro made it to the back meeting room unseen, but Hilevi pushed the tavern maid who tried to stop her aside, and led the mercenaries back. When one tried to follow, Giuliana picked her up and deposited her head-first in a rubbish bin. After that, none of the staff tried to interfere.

"Are you certain she's out?" Pameline asked. "She's at the Arena, with two of her most trusted henchlings." Hilevi replied. "I wanted to be there to watch the fat one get her but kicked and lose her clothes, but the boss was insistent I be part of this team." "Which fat one?" Giuliana asked, in all seriousness. "Niniane..." Hilelvi responded. "Oh, we're sorry to be missing a chance to see her lose as well. Maybe sometime we can take her down together."

"Will you ssssshuuuut up?" came a whisper from the spy. "Letssss focus on the missssion. There is a ssssecret door here ssssomewhere." "Why do you talk like that?" Sarasia asked, receiving only an angry glare in response.

Makurro fiddled with a torch sconce, and it opened up another, more secret meeting room. She pointed to the desk. "Can you girls read?" Hilevi asked, "Look for stuff about Zoraida." Meanwhile, Makurro felt around the desk, searching for buttons that might open more secret doors.

Pameline plopped her backside down in the chair behind the desk to go through the papers. No sooner had her bottom hit the chair than she jumped up, screaming. As she grabbed for her rear, her companions noticed a heart-shaped hole in her leather-armored skirt. A pair of pink underwear, tattered around the shape of the heart were showing through. "Oh, and Watch for traps," Hillevi said, too late. Makurro made a show of sliding a paperweight on the desk, which retracted a heart-shaped blade on the chair.

"Just be glad you were wearing armor," Giuliana said, patting the pink cloth visible through the heart-shaped window in the skirt. Pameline looked at her angrily and backed away, only partially due to the pain in her backside.

Just then, Makurro found something. A loose piece of wood on the underside of the desk, when moved, made a part of a bookcase swing open. It was the entrance to the lair!

Unfortunately, it was barely big enough for a Halfling to get through. Makurro got on her hands and knees, and, due to her immense flexibility, was able to crawl through the space. "Follow me, if you can," she yelled back, "And don't touch anything!"

"I'll stay here and read through these documents," Pameline said, although it was obvious she'd be reading while standing. Hillevi removed her armor and left in next to Pameline, then crawled through the hole after Makurro. Sarasia shook her head as Giuliana tried to follow. "Your fat ass will never fir through there." "Watch me!" Giuliana responded, getting down on all fours and starting to crawl through the opening. Just as Sarasia predicted, when her wide hips came up against the opening, Giuliana's forward movement stopped. She tried to push forward, but to no avail. She tried to back up, and found she was unable to do that. "Help me you idiots!" she called. Sarasia planted a hard kick in the middle of her backside, ostensibly trying to force her through. "Ow!" Giuliana shouted, I said "HELP me." Pamelyn reached down under the desk, and moved the piece of wood again.

The bookshelf came slamming back into place, successfully throwing Giuliana's fat but through to the other side, although her armored skirt caught in the door mechanism and was torn off. On the other side, Makurro and Hillevi heard a grind, a big slam, and then saw Giuliana lying on her face, her large, white-pantied butt still up from the door slamming against it.

Hilevi rushed over, and Giuliana was touched that she cared so much, until she ran right past her and tried to get the door open. When it didn't budge, she tried to remove the armored skirt from the mechanism, succeeding only in shredding the garment further. Finally, she knocked on the door and yelled through to the other side of the bookcase wall. "Can you hear me? Open the door! Open the door!"

Pameline moved the piece of wood again, but instead of the satisfaction of the door opening, there was only the grinding noise of jammed and perhaps misaligned gears where the leather skirt had caught.

Giuliana picked herself up and rubbed her sore bottom. Makurro looked on her companions in disbelief. Why had Zoraida chosen such incompetents.

"There must be another way out," Hillevi reasoned, "let's explore." "Don't touch anything!" Makurro warned, ignoring her own advice as it was intended for clumsy idiots like the mercenaries she had to bring on what might have been a simple "grab the documents and leave undetected" spy mission otherwise.

The room they were in seemed to be a training room of sorts. There was an archery target, a sparring dummy with spinning "arms" and "legs" with a lever next to it, and a few other devices, some of which looked dangerous. Hilevi pulled a lever to see what happened. Unfortunately for her, she was facing the wrong way when she did so. A gloved "hand" on a rotating arm hit her in the head, dazing her, while a hooked arm below made contact with her backside. The implement wasn't sharp enough to make her bleed, thankfully, but it continued to rotate after making contact, and it seemed to have grabbed the back of her pants, and possibly her underwear. Hilevi found herself being pulled back by the force of the arm, while on the cylinder below, "legs" were swinging the other way, sweeping her off-balance.

She was now dangling by the waistband of her pants and panties, the cloth digging into her backside and crotch as the sparring machine spun her around. Giuliana couldn't help but stand there and laugh. Makurro ran over to the lever that had put the machine in motion, and pulled it again. Unfortunately, this simply increased the speed of the machine's rotation. Hillevi was flying by the seat of her pants as Makurro, ducking whenever she came by, tried to shut the machine down. Finally pulling the right lever, the machine came to an abrupt halt. Unfortunately for Hilevi, this sent her flying while her pants and underwear remained stuck to the hook. Her face made contact with Giuliana's stomach, which was good padding, but caused the latter to stop laughing immediately as both of them toppled to the floor. Makkuro reached for the pants on the now-stopped machine, only to find that they had torn down the seams when Hilevi was catapulted from them. "Quit fooling around," Makuro's threatening whisper said, "I told you not to touch anything."

Just then, she pulled a lever and a wall opened up to a lavish bathroom. There was a large tub, with a spiquot that suggested running water. "Sssshe is using the river current to power her devicesss and provide water," Makurro said "ingeniousss."

Hillevi examined her pants until she reached the same conclusion as Makurro, they were a total loss. Leaving them on the hook, she followed Makurro, now being very careful not to touch anything.
___________________________
Back toward the front room, Pameline was reviewing documents and found most of them mundane financial documents pertaining to the operation of a tavern. Sarasia was trying to force the bookcase door open. "Why did you push the button again?" she asked Pameline. "She wanted help to get her fat ass through. It worked, didn't it?" "Haha, yeah," Sarasia agreed.

Giuliana was looking at the big tub, imagining it full of cold water, and how it could calm the blazing pain in her backside. Makurro and Hilevi had advanced to the next room, so she looked to make certain they weren't watching, and took off the rest of her clothes, including her underwear. Hopping under the spigot so it was aimed at her backside, she turned a knob. She could hear the movement of water nearby, but almost nothing was coming out. A moment later, she felt an odd sensation, as the something flowing out of the spigot was falling over her backside. But it didn't feel like water.At that very moment, a panel opened up in the wall, and a puff of smoke came from it. She was frightened now, and turned the knob back, but it was too late, the hole in the wall stayed open. Looking down at her legs and feet, she saw what the spigot had deposited on her backside. It was honey. She barely had time to recognize the substance when a swarm of bees came flying out of the hole in the wall, and all were aiming directly for her backside. "Ow, ow, ow!" she screamed, instinctively running back the way she had come in, and the bees chased after her, one managing to sting her every now and then.

Sarasia had just managed to pry the secret door open, when Giuliana's head burst through. Her hips were caught in the doorway again. "Help me!" she screamed. Sarasia grabbed Giuliana's arms and pulled, Pameline joining in. Giuliana's butt entered the room, followed by a swarm of angry bees. The three of them ran back through the other secret door, through the meeting room, and into the tavern, the bees still chasing them. The sight of the nude mercenary covered in honey and being followed by bees as she ran shocked the clientele, but the server who she had deposited in the garbage earlier cheered at the sight. Pameline received a hard smack from someone on the heart shaped hole showing her pink panties. The three panicking mercenaries ran out of the tavern, and out into the street, where Giuliana deposited her honey-covered bee-stung bottom in the first horse trough she found.

Makurro and Hilevi heard the screaming, but they had found what they had come for. A room with several crystal balls on stands arranged around a luxurious couch. The crystal balls showed scenes of the diners conversing, and touching one allowed you to hear the conversation until you turned it off by touching it again. "This is amazing!" Hillevi said. Ona nearby desk was a leather-bound diary. The Warbringer picked it up began to page through it, as Makurro picked the lock on a desk drawer. Makurro opened the drawer and found it full of dildos of various shapes and sizes. "Pint-sized pervert," she whispered. "Here!" Hilevi said, pointing to a recent diary entry. "Did you find something about our plot?" "Worse. Someone is trying to assassinate Zoraida."

"Let me see that," said Makurro. Hilevi handed it over, and walked intot he next room, a luxurious bedroom. She opened a bureau drawer and pulled out a pair of pants. Holding them up, she seemed disgusted at how small they were. "No pants for me..." she said, disappointed. "This is what we need, let's take it and go!" Makurro called.

Hillevi and Makurro made their way back through the secret doors to the front of the tavern. This time, however, a large half-orc was waiting for them. "Kalka, get them!" called one of the tavern maids. MAkurro grabbed the book and disappeared in a flash.

"I told you not to show your face in here." Kalka said to Hilevi. Hilevi tried to run for it, but Kalka grabbed her by the back of her shirt. The shirt tore off, exposing a light blue bra as Hillevi ran. Grabbing her under the arms, Kalka lifted her like a sack of potatoes and deposited her in the same rubbish bin Giuliana had put the server in earlier. No common rubbish bin, this is where the leftovers and floor sweepings of a busy tavern ended up. Hilevi closed her eyes as unpleasant bits of discarded food engulfed her. Something was soaking into her hair. Over-the-hill beef stew? She hoped that's what it was. But to make matters worse, Kalka started slapping her backside that was sticking out of the rubbish bin. This caused her to gasp, and she got a mouthful of the discarded food. It was disgusting. The next time Kalka slapped her backside, she threw her weight along with the momentum of it, toppling the trashbin, and allowing her a moment to climb to her feet and make a run for it. Kalka chased after her but stopped when Hillevi, managed to run deep into the market place without being caught.

When she arrived back at the mansion, covered in garbage and mostly nude, she found the Crimson mercenaries, arrayed in their sorry state before a disapproving Zoraida and an unscathed Makurro.

"Is this how you mercenaries operate? Get naked and get your ass stung by bees? Trigger every trap in the enemy hideout?" Zoraida scalded, before noticing Hilevi and turning her attention to her, "And you, their leader, a famous mercenary? What happened to you?"

"It's a long story, your highness." "I have time." "Essentially a defensive device--" "Training dummy!" Makurro interjected. "A training dummy tore off my pants." Then, as we were leaving, "I had to fight a filthy half-orc!"

Zoraida's gaze became stonier. "I take it by the stench you weren't victorious?" Hilevi just stared at the floor. "Be that as it may, we have some disturbing news here," Zoraida continued. "Someone is out to assassinate me. I think I might know who. But for now, see to it the elven healer is brought to me after she attends to your wounds." "I won't be touched by an elf!" "So be it, said Zoraida, tend to your own wounds. Also, get dressed and clean yourself up! You're a disgrace."

The mercenaries bowed and left the room. "What is it Makurro?"
"Permisssioon to ssspeak fffreeely?" "Granted." "You ssshould sssend me alone. Theeessse incompetentsss endanger the missssion with their ffffolissshness."

Zoraida thought for a second, then responded, "Duly noted. Next time, I'll send Wanda with you. If she isn't well-trained enough, it's your fault." Zoraida thought she caught an expression of frustration on Makurro's face, but the spy bowed, and whispered, "Assss you wisssssh, your highnesssss."

Brandwine stormed into the tavern, angry at the outcome of the match. She was in no mood for the news that greeted her. "I'm sorry boss, I told them they couldn't go back there, but..." Brandy raced to the management room behind the bar, only to see her desk had been ransacked, and her secret door damaged.

Entering further in, she surveyed the damage, and made a mental note of what things had been rifled through, and what was missing. "My notes. They wanted my notes. This wasn't a robbery, they wanted to see what I know. How did they even know these rooms were here? And how did they know I'd be out today?"

Returning to the barmaid who had broken into tears for fear of Brandy's wrath at the news her secret sanctuary had been invaded, she said, "Tell me who did this..." The barmaid looked up, with wide, frightened eyes. "Four women in a sort of uniform, black, and deep red...they were armed. And there was another with them, in black leather armor with a long cloak." "Have you seen ANY of them before...this is very important." "The ones in uniform used to come here some years back. I thought they left town, or maybe got locked up. They were a rough crew, even hard on us servers. Their leader looked like the girl Niniane put in her place for fighting with Kalka that one night."

Brandywine nodded. Now someone knew about her operation, collecting knowledge from listening to customers. That was bad. Perhaps her operation was compromised, perhaps less good information would fall into her lap. But most troubling of all, whoever it was was organized. They had thugs in uniform, and an infiltrator that could find her way into the Bodice's secret sanctum. This was disturbing news indeed.

It was then that Belle and Niniane arrived for their regular shift. Brandywine called them into the back room.

"You two," the halfling said, trying to look as meancing as possible to the two large ladies in front of her.  "You're a disappointment."  Belle pointed at Niniane and started to speak, but the boss interrupted her.  "But that's not what we're here about.  Look around.  We have a security matter, and I expect both of you on it.  But you're also doing your regular shift, we're short handed tonight, one of the girls had to go home after what happened here.  So, go get cleaned, up, you look disgusting.  No, scratch that.  Just throw a uniform on over the dirt and sand.  People will recognize you mucky, ale-drenched imbeciles from the arena, and they might enjoy it.  That's it.  Go out as you are.  Serve.  Keep your ears open, and try to find out who might be behind this.  Oh, and Niniane, the girls who saw what happened said that one of them looked like the woman who fought with Kalka.  I believe you two, maybe with some help, had devised some pretty humiliating punishments for her.  Could that be the motive?"

Niniane looked shocked at the notion.  "We told her never to come back."  "Well, she did."  Brandywine knew full well that the motive had to be bigger, deeper, than revenge, but she saw the accusation as a means of offering her barmaid added incentive to investigate.  

Niniane sheepishly made her way to the shelf where tavern maid uniforms were stored.  Unfortunately, for her and Belle, there were no panties stored there.  They'd have to do without.  Also, they were still covered in ale and mud; their hair was matted, and they were a mess.  But their boss had forbidden them to clean up, so they'd need to serve as they were.

((Continued at the end of "Manila vs ???"))