Slave?


>Your hands gently rest on the ornate redwood box, a soft sigh escaping your lips
>3 weeks
>it took 3 weeks to repair your mistresses' music box
>She would have done it, but the gryphon empress had her working overtime
>So much overtime that getting some foreign dignitaries a proper gift had totally slipped her mind
>so it was up to you and your 'soft, blunt claws' to fix this for her
>you run your thumb into some of the grooves, making sure the soft gold wiring stays inlaid
>It's just some bullshit flower imagery, but. You're proud of it
>of all the things you've done for your owner, you're most proud of this
>The outside and inside have been sanded smooth, and the curved top has been stained and restored as well
>The platform the music gears sit on has been oiled and finished, and all you need to do now is put the delicate machinery together and let it set
>It's going to be surprisingly light when finished - so you'll have to be careful hauling it around
>You lean back a bit on the workbench, rolling your shoulders
>whelp. Might as we-
>*ding*
>That would be the door
>You quickly wipe your hands down and stand, adjusting your simple loincloth to cover - but hint - at what you've got, and prepare to greet your mistress
>"..vestock are all cared for as well, my lady. Cupboards have been restocked as well, per your orders."
>You make it to the main room just as your mistress and her other slave-
>Sorry, 'indentured servant'
>-come in from the weather.
>"Ah... now isn't this a sight for tired eyes?"
>Cairn Eagleeye, Quartermistress to Her Majesty's Armies, Dutchess of the 3 Peaks and your lawful owner, smiles to herself as she rounds the corner and sees you once more
>You get on your knees, a soft smile on your lips as well
"I am pleased that I so refresh my mistress. Was your trip well?"
>As she pads over to you you crane your neck to the side, exposing it

>"Bah. A bunch of old hens squawking after impossible timetables. It's enough to make you want to molt-"
>She rears up slightly, her beak nipping your neck - not enough to hurt, but enough to make a point - and you press into her breast
"I would hope not, mistress. I would miss your plumage dearly~"
>She chuckles, whispering into your ear "Oh, don't I know it~"
>After a few moments of resting on you she hops off, flapping her wings once. "Hm. Talia?"
>Talia Bluntbeak bows her head slightly. "Yes, My Lady?"
>"Inform the chef that I'll be taking my dinner in my room. I expect my favourite to be fed and ready by the time I finish cleaning up. Say... in 30 minutes?"
>Talia bows again. "As you will it, My Lady."
>Cairn gives you a familiar hungry look. "As it should be..."
>You feel her drag her tail across your side as she walks past you, but you don't move until she has left the room
>Once the back door has shut to her study, both of you drop the facade
>to a point
>"Tch. You heard her, pleasure slave. Go to the kitchen, get you some food - though, we both know what you'll be eating later tonight-"
"Why Talia, are you jealous?"
>You smirk as you stand up, the gryphoness growling softly. "Watch it, fool. We may both be servants-"
"If calling it that helps you sleep at ni-"
>"At least I keep my name, whore! At least I'll have a future - what hope do you have, her being your third owner? As soon as your dick stops working you'll be driven into the snow-"
"Yeah yeah heard it all before. Shouldn't you be doing what Mistress told you to do?"
>She narrows her eyes at you. "Get. Before I do something I'll regret."
"You will regret it - if I come to her with any scars she didn't create, you'll get clipped."
>Her beak snaps shut, and you smile as you make your way over to the warm kitchen
>Being the favourite has it's perks

...
"Yes ma'am."
>"And keep the tray level - mind the dish, it's hot."
"Yes ma'am."
>The cook looks you up and down, then sighs. "Hhmph. Honestly, it'd do wonders for morale if she'd share you with the rest of us...Great Roc knows having you wear only that is tease enough."
>You keep your face neutral, but sigh internally
>Every few months this gets brought up, and every few months your mistress has to re-establish the pecking order and flaunt you around again
>At least since it's colder this season you get a few more strips of clothing to keep you warm, but
>Well. You hang around the fireplaces very often, let's just say.
>"Well? Off with you!"
"Yes ma'am."
>You spin on your heel and leave, serving-tray held within your capable grip
>Strong wine, honeyed mead, a leg of ham - some fried root vegetables that look like croquettes
>Chefy went all out on this one
>Though, she should watch herself - Cairn fired the last one after 4 years because she tried to taste the goods, as it were
>6 months is far too soon to be asking something so improper...
>You muse idly as you walk through her study, placing the tray on her map table
>Closing the doors behind you, you prepare yourself - checking to make sure all clasps are easily unfastened, that you're sufficiently oiled and scented..
>Oh!
>Smiling, you reach for a little-known secret drawer on the map table, pulling out a small, crystal-red vial
>You uncork and add a few drops to the bottle of port, before recorking and putting it away
>That always made her very lively, to say the least
>Speaking of, no need to turn her off early in the night
>You pop open a small box on the tray, rummaging around for a good, strong mint
>Coated in white powder, your fingers find their prize
>Ah. This light-blue one should do
>You pop it in your mouth and start sucking on it 
>Mmmmm. Spearmint, with a hint of something exotic
>Tray in hands, you stand infront of her bedchamber doors and clear your throat loudly
>"In."

>With a small bow you use the weight of the tray to push a handle down, opening the door to Cairn's bedroom
>And it's a very lavish one at that
>Thick, furred skins carpet the floor
>A roaring fireplace and thick tapestries keep the entire room at a comfortable, cozy temperature
>A large, personal desk stacked high with missives, trinkets and things you could only imagine
>For as a slave, it's not your place to know
>And of course, in the middle of it is her own personal nest
>At first glance it looks like one of those master bedroom suites, with ornate posts on all four corners of the bed
>But, instead of a mattress it's layers and layers of blankets and pillows and furs
>Super comfy and surprisingly soft
>Intimate, really
>You'd almost say it's 'yours' but, yanno
>No property allowed to you
>But you spend so much time here that you've basically been allowed to convert your own quarters into a workshop at your mistresses' discretion
>So it's basically the same thing
>"Aaah, now there's what I need. Come, come."
>Stretching, your owner hops off of her stool, padding over to you
"Mistress, would you li-"
>"Ah. No, no talking, not now. Place the tray at the edge of the bed, I'll get to it soon..."
>You nod softly, adding a little sway in your step as you position her dinner
>3... 2... 1-
>With a screech you feel your owner pounce onto you and you roll into the bed
>Dominant, in a word, is how gryphonesses are both in and out of the bedroom
>Her claws dig into your shoulders - not enough to draw blood, but enough for some discomfort
>"MMrrf, I can see how those vultures look at you - they want you, don't they? All day long, you tease them~"
"I can't help it, Mistress - when you're away it's hard to control myself-"
>"I see that, boy."
>She grins as her claws flick open your clasps, removing the last bit of modesty you were allowed
>Years of doing this has left it's mark - you're already at half mast

>"Good, good - such a good slave you are~"
>Her beak nips at your neck and shoulders as you run your fingers through her down, massaging softly
"I'm so happy that I continue to please you, mistress~"
>"Mm, and you will for a long, long time..."
>Grinning, she positions herself over you, pressing her asshole right over the head of your dick
>This was something new you learned when you were sold here from the Minotaur lands-
>Your dick was way too big for their little cunts
>And, yanno. There is a risk of pregnancy - who would want to have kits from a slave?! - so, anal it was
>She impales herself suddenly and forcefully onto you, causing you to gasp 
>"Oooh.... there we go... tend to me, my faithful fuckslut~"
>You grip her hips and start rolling into her flank
>Like a good slave, you do as you're told
. . . . . . .
>"Nnnnh~"
>A, B, C-
>"Ah! Yesss..."
>So it's C today, huh?
>C
>C
>C
>"S-slow down, slave. Let me enjoy my meal as well!"
>You hum softly, your tongue resting on her clit
>You can't see too well - what with her sitting on your face - but you can feel her reach over to the tray
>You honestly don't blame her
>I mean. Steak-and-a-blowjob every night would never get tiring, if you were in her position
>"Aaah... that's the stuff. Every time I come home, the welcome is better and better~"
>You hear the sound of a pulled cork, and then the greedy drinking from a bottle
>"Mwah! Aah. Continue, my favourite-"
>You feel her tense up as you C again
>Then a low growl
>Huh, that's not ri-
>"WHATEVER IT IS BETTER BE IMPORTANT!"
>Oh. Someone must've knocked
>"-...---. ..."
>Damn fuzzy legs
>You can't hear a fuckin-
>"THEN I CAN FLY BACK TOMORROW! BY THE FROZEN PEAKS, SHUT THE DOOR AND GET OUT!"
>There's the sound of an impact
>A few tense moments pass in silence and stillness
>Tenatively, you slip your tongue into her, giving your mistress a long, deep lick
>"Ah...... DAMNIT ALL!"

>With a growl your owner stands up, flopping onto her side. "Of all the most miserable timing...I should have Talia's wings clipped."
>Idly she spears one of the croquettes with a claw, slicing it open
>You see the wine's half-gone, and the mead's nowhere to be seen
"Mistress? How may I please you?"
>She glances down to you, her face hard for a moment before it softens
>"You... shouldn't be troubled over matters above your station, slave."
"I'm sorry, my Mistress. But when you are troubled, I am troubled."
>"Hm. How fun - the only care I have is the one I've bought. Turns out the Praetor wants me back at the capital to run some more numbers - apparently running supplies to the front in a month isn't good enough for her. Five Hundred Miles to cross with wagon, supplies and shot, and I'm supposed to make a miracle happen."
>You kiss her lower abdomen softly, your fingers tracing nonsensical patterns in her fur
>"Mmm...You are a jewel. Preen me - that way I can just leave tomorrow and be done with it."
>You nod and shift your position, kneeling behind her
>She extends a wing, and wordlessly you run your fingers through it, pulling out a few loose feathers, straightening out others
>It's slow, quiet work
>You continue it long after she's finished her dinner
>Long after she's fallen asleep

* * *
>"I'm just saying-"
>You place your hands on your hips, eyebrow quirked
"And *I'm* just saying - I don't care that Mistress has been gone for 3 days with no word, you're not allowed to touch the goods!"
>The chef chirps, ruffling her feathers. "Boy, it's no big deal - just a quick jaunt in the cellar, we'll both have fun and you can get cleaned up within the hour-"
>You sigh
"No means no. And if you keep this up - or heavens help you, try to force the issue - I'll call the guard."
>The gryphonness laughs. "As if the guard will come here, to Cairn's private retreat, at the word of a fuck-slav-"
>*BANG*

>The door to your little mountain home isn't so much as kicked open as it is knocked so hard off it's hinges it flies into the greeting room
>And then
>Guards
>Guards fucking EVERYWHERE
>You can tell by the seal on their crests that they're imperial, but more than that, they're elite
>Well this is new
>But rolling with the punches you give the chef a *look*, and roll your hand towards the invaders
>Her beak opens and closes wordlessly
"I rest my case."
>"Everyone in this room NOW. You- Who are you!"
>A night-black gryphoness walks towards you, and you notice by her non-standard armor that she must be of some importance
>You bow softly
"I am Mistress Cairn Eagleeye's bedslave and companion. The estate, while she is away, is under the care of Talia Bluntbeak. I have not bothered to learn the chef's name, as she is most likely not going to be employed by my Mistress for much longer."
>"Wh-WHY YOU LIMP-DICK-"
>"ENOUGH."
>The Gryphonness crows, and everyone falls silent
>"I have a warrant to search this house high and low, and I plan on it. All of her property is hereby siezed by her clan and the state until this investigation is over."
>You bow again
"With respect, then to whom am I speaking with?"
>"Viktoria Stormeagle, of the same eagle clan you serve."
>Without missing a beat, you kneel to present yourself to your new owner
"I live to serve."
>"Up. I have no time to waste talking with a bedslave. Where are the keys?"
>You look at the chef, who is trying her best to be the most innocent, befuddling staffmember possible
>Whelp. Guess it's up to you
"I... with apolgies, My Lady - Talia Bluntbeak would have all keys to-"
>"Damn. She's already in irons, so that's no good. Go, go go go-"
>Viktoria shoos away some of her guards to start their search, and they do
>Somewhat aggressively
>"You. Bedslave - you know where the extras are kept?"
"Now why woul-"
>"Please. Do not try me today. You think this is my first skirmish? Where are the extras."

>You pause for a moment, looking this new gryphon in the eyes
>She grins
>"A fighting spirit in this one! Cairn was right... you are a jewel. Come."
>Viktoria walks away from her dramatic entrance, close to the doors of your mistresses' study. 
>"Kneel."
>You do so, presenting yourself once more
>No need to start off on the wrong foot, as it were
>You feel her press against you, and then she whispers softly into your ear
>"Cairn Eagleeye is dead by assassination. Poison."
>You go stiff for a moment as the news registers
>"Tell no one. Bluntbeak is being held, for she had means and motive. Not the first time an indebted tried to cut her debt short. I am a representative of the inquisition; I am of the eagle clan; as such, I will be your caretaker until her property is sorted out and our questions are answered. Nod if you understand."
>You nod, softly
>"Such loyalty in a slave is admirable - I respect that. Now, rise and open her doors to me; I'd rather not have to break more of them down."
>Wordlessly she backs off of you and you rise - and continue, standing on your toes
>The inquisitor tilts her head to the side as your fingers grip the top frame of the door - and with a soft crackling noise, pull away just the top
>A small silver key rests in a groove - which you retrieve
>"Ah... she always was one for riddles and games. Heh."
>You quickly unlock the study door, opening it for your new mistress
>"Good. Guards - the inner chambers."
>Her voice didn't rise at all, yet no fewer than 20 guards poured in between you, starting to pull books off shelves, roll up the map on the table... clean everything out
>Huh
>"We're... also looking for any potential causes of death. Anything that could lead us to the murder weapon."
>You see them sweep everything into great bags - haphazardly, you might add - this looks more like a smash and grab than a proper murder investigation
"I...see."
>"Be mindful you don't see too much. Is her room open?"
>You nod

"Though, be careful - the ambassador's gift is on her desk. It should be the only thing on it."
>Inquisitor Viktoria grunts. "Right, we better get that shipped too...though..."
>She eyes you, and you advert your gaze
>This wasn't hungry, like you were used to - though it was still predatory
>This was the look of someone searching for flaws
>"... you know something."
"I... would be remiss if I spoke so freely, Mistress."
>Victoria chirps softly. "Mistress already? Heh... better not let that get to my head. Alright. Everyone, out."
>Again, she didn't raise her voice
>But again, as one, her soldiers filed out of the study, shutting the door behind them
>This... this bird had power.
>"So? Show me."
>You bend over the map table slightly, your fingers finding that familiar latch, pulling on a hidden drawer
>"I should've known... yet another ri-"
>Her musing dies in her throat as you pull out the red, crystal vial, placing it on the table
>She snatches it immediately, uncorking it
>a claw dips in and then pulls out
>*sniff*
>"...no, surely not. Skooma?"
"I-I was not told what it was, just that Mistress - sorry, former Mistress would enjoy a few drops in her wine with my company."
>Viktoria inhales deeply, then sighs. "...so this may not be a murder afterall..."
>You know better to ask questions, and your new owner apparently knows better than to divulge anything else
>"...how do you feel about the Minotauren?"
>Well that's abrupt
>...and an odd line of questioning
"They took good enough care of me when I was theirs, until I was sold to Ironclaw eight years ago."
>"Yes, yes... I remember. She died as a hero on the Eastern front a few years... after. How did Cairn get ahold of you?"
>You shrug
"Such things are beyond me, Mistress. My first Mistress died, I went through the proper mourning, then I was transferred over to my former Mistress."
>Silence drags out for a few moments

"Should... should I enter mourning again, Mistress? Or would it be proper not to, as I am already your property?"
>More silence
>Viktoria Stormeagle, High Inquisitor of Her Majesty, born of the Eagle Clan and house, stands silent
>Swirling a vial of illicit drugs in her claws
>...
>"...no. I will give you your final order."
>Final?
>"I am taking you to the capital with me and my guards. You will dress as... enticingly as you can. As you have no particular fear of the Minotauren, you will be given to them as a gift - along with Cairn's initial present. If you speak of how she died - of abusing this vial - we will find out and we will kill you. I'll not have our name dragged through the mud..."
>You bow softly
"As my Mistress commands."
>"...take care not to be sold to a gryphoness again. I don't ever want to see you in our lands."
"Yes, Mistress."
>"Good. Now, open her bedchamber... there's no reason why I can't enjoy my new property for a few moments."
>And, as you have since you were sold
>You do as you're told
* * *
>...
>You stare out across Griffonstone, the sunrise painting beautiful hues of blue, orange and yellow across the sky
>The carts and wagons setup just down the steps from you are cast in beauitful, glittering colors
>You gotta admit - flying creatures always seem to pick places where the view is amazing
>It's breathtaking, really
>"--sing tensions between our two great empires."
>A deep, feminine voice rouses you from your stupor, and you stand up tall
>If you remember right... Tauren women like to feel the muscles on their men, so...
>You place your arms behind your back, gripping each forearm in your hands, baring your chest
>You strain against your loose fabric in new ways - hopefully, enticing ones - as the main door opens
>"Yes. And to further cement our friendship, please accept these gifts from our noblehens - Some rare fabrics, a music-chest, an-"
>"Oooh...I know what manner of gift this is..."

>You turn to look at the speakers - one, a gryphon you've never seen before but whose dressed like an aide de camp, and then a very very large Minotaur female
>You turn slightly, accentuating your shoulders, chest and arms
>"This pleasureslave is well-trained, though we gryphons have no more, ah, desire for him. We hope he may warm your beds as he did our nests, Senator Brunhilda of Labarynthia."
>That's the only introduction you're going to get - slaves don't get to ask questions, after all
"I-it pleases me to know my new Mistress."
>"Oh...these gifts please me more than you know, Quickfeather." The tauress grins that familiar predatory grin and rests one of her hands on your chest
>She squeezes - firmly, tracing your muscles. "More than you know... the road is long and hard, and he will be a comfort."
>Brunhilda, your new owner, tilts her head - and her entourage takes the inanimate gifts
>But by her wandering hands, you can tell she wants to take you personally
>"My regards to your Empress, and your Roost of Ladies."
>Brunhilda pulls you into the crook of her arm, her hand reaching down and gripping your butt firmly
>You press into her, making eye contact -
>That's right, right?! Tauren like to see your eyes when you-
>She grins and walks you down the steps
>Aah, good. You remembered right...
>"Where does the slave go?"
>"In my cart with me, Greta. For obvious reasons."
>The tauresses all share a laugh, and you bow your head slightly
"It will always be my pleasure, Mistress."
>"Good. Up you go."
>With two handfulls of your ass your new owner lifts you up - bodily lifts you up - into the arms of one of the drivers, Greta, who then sets you down into the wagon.
>It shifts precariously to the side, but soon your new owner gets into the cart with you, that same grin on her face.
>"Until we better know your temperament, we will put you in irons. Understand?"
"Yes, my Mistress."
>And so you were.

* * *
>"All papers are in order - LIFT THE GATE!"
>The wagon rocks from side to side as the tauresses up front start pulling it forward, the wheels protesting sligtly from the rivets cut into the path
>Your caravan - and your new owners - officially take you out from gryphon lands
>The soft clinking of your chains is the only sound for the next few minutes
>"... we've passed beyond their scout's sight." Helga - you think? - remarks. "And I *still* have no idea why you dragged me, an intel officer, alo-"
"Brunhilda I swear to all your fucking gods if you don't take these irons off me right now, I'll kill you with 'em."
>There is silence in the cart
>"Wh- SLAVE HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MI-"
>"SILENCE. You will NOT address your superior in that tone!" Brunhilda barks
>The cart rocks again - you can tell by the staccato of hooves-on-cobblestone, the haulers themselves were surprised by what just happened
>"S-Superior?!" The driver - Greta, was it? - turns around, eyes wild. "What in the name of Tartarus-"
>"Enough. Anonymous, I do apologize-"
"Mmmmm"
>"Seriously - I didn't like abusing you any more th-"
"Say my name again."
>"Wh?" Brunhilda stutters. "Uh... Anonymous."
"Again."
>"Anonymous."
>The cart rocks back and forth
"... Eight years since I heard someone else say that name, not unhurried or in whispers."
>"..."
>Wordlessly, Brunhilda reaches into her bosom, pulling out an iron key. She leans forward and unchains your neck - then your hands, placing the key in them, allowing you to finish the job yourself.
>"Ok, look - I'm now really, REALLY confused. Why am I here, who is this slave bull, what's going on? My job is to break codes and decipher riddles, not be in them."
>"Anonymous. What did you get?"
>You lean back against the fabric of the wagon
"Enough to make me spymaster."
>Brunhilda laughs. "That old cow will never die - but, you're guaranteed a promotion, at least!"
>You smirk
"Nah. Go for the brass ring and all that-"
>"WHAT IS GOING OOOOOOOOONNNNNNN~~~"

>The two of you turn to look at the back of the wagon, where Helga wiggles back and forth on her seat, whining loudly
"... This is your best codebreaker?"
>Brunhilda shrugs. "Taurus works in mysterious ways. She has a gift for that... if nothing else."
>Helga's ears perk up. "Wait, codebrea-wait. WAIT."
>Her eyes go wide as she points at you accusingly
>"THIS IS OUR ANONYMOUS SOURCE?! YOU USED HIS NAME AS HIS CODE NAME? THAT IS THE MOST RECKLESS, INSANE THING-"
>Brunhilda shrugs. "It worked. Why fix what ain't broken-"
"She really isn't clever-"
>"I'm not used to being out in the field! IT'S NOT MY FAULT!"
>The two of you Mmm softly.
>"Well fine, I'll spill the milk out of the pail. You're sitting next to Anonymous, one of the best spies our republic has. I'm his handler-"
"YEAH you are-"
>Her ears go flat. "-and I'm sorry about that, sir."
>"Sir?" Helga chirps
"Mmm, I'm curious too. I was just a lieutenant when I left-"
>"Yes. You've been so effective you've been promoted... a few times, in absentia. You've got a Captainship, a pension, and any villa you'd like amongst the senate's lands."
>You smirk
"Keeping me close now, aren't we?"
>Brunhilda sighs. "Nobody's gone that deep or that long under cover, Anonymous. Unanimously, the senate's voted to retire you, if you so desire. Give you a more administrative position, if you still want to serve."
"But the spymaster posi-"
>"But is it so wrong to finally settle down? Do work in your own land for once?"
>You sigh softly
>The cart rocks again, then you hear the driver loudly hail someone
"Wha-"
>"Ah. That would be the legion I had come to escort us. Last thing we need is anything to go wrong-"
"That's for the better, especially with what I've just got."
>"Yes! Tell me - what do you have? I don't know what else we could give you, but depending on what it is..."
>You spread your legs, leaning down to pull out the music box from under you
>Shit, this is heavy
>And this is a really awkward position

"... a little help?"
>"Oh! Right, sorry sorry sorry-"
>Helga scoots forward, tugging the box out from beneath your legs
>"Oof. I'm guessing all this weight isn't just wood and gears, huh?"
"Of course. Pop it open for me real quick
>The Tauress' fingers find the latch and flip it open quick enough, and a sweet melody begins to play
>It's slowly drowned out by the sound of marching hooves joining your little caravan
>But you've got something else in mind
>Taking no heed, you pinch the spinning gears in your fingers and twist - first one way, then another - and then in a third way that it *shouldn't* move
>*click*
"Have at it."
>Helga greedily spins the box around to face her and tugs at the music player itself, the platform it rests on coming free 
>"Is... wait..."
>She starts rummaging through the papers
>"Troop movement schedules, foundry output reports, personnel records - SUPPLY TIMETABLES AND DEPOTS - AND CACHE LOCATIONS~
>Helga, probably a somewhat decorated warror in service to the republic, lets out a squeal
>"IS THAT A GRYPHON CYPHER ROD?!"
>Jaw open with glee, Helga gingerly lifts up a cylindrical rod of gears no longer than your forearm
>"MY TITS ARE SO HARD RIGHT NOW."
>You laugh
"Careful, lass - I might think you've fallen for me!"
>Brunhilda whistles softly. "Well I'll be flatchested and branded a traitor. Is it real, Helga?"
>Wordlessly the tauress begins to turn the device over. She notices something - producing a bowl from somewhere and taking out a small blade, she pops open a seal you didn't even notice
>She tips the device over the bowl
>Black powder pours out
>"YES! YES IT IS. AAAAAH BA-A-A-CHUS IS REAL-"
>Brunhilda muses. "Incredible. Every time we'd come close to getting one, they'd detonate it before we could reach them...Anonymous, this puts us way ahead of the gryphons - if they ever try anything, we'll know weeks - no, months in advance!"
>You smile the smuggest smile in the past decade
"So... spymaster?"

>"General at least! By Elysium, you've secured our border with them for generations!"
>You sigh deeply
"Well... at least it was worth it."
>"You're damn right it was worth it! I'll personally lobby to have you promoted immediately - and triple - no, sextuble your pension! The amount of lives and gold saved by this intelli-"
>*clickaclickaclicka*
>You both turn your heads to see Helga furiously working the device, a thin strip of paper inserted into one end and slowly popping out the other with each click
>She looks up once she notices the conversation has died down
>".... I'm making it say butts."
>
>Well then.
"Heh. So maybe one more mission-"
>"Anonymous, no. We're not going to let you take another mission so dangerous or long. You're done-"
"Well, what about a second-level target, then?"
>"Anon, is it so displeasing to you that you'd want to finally slow down, maybe settle down? Find a few cows, raise some calves? Possibly join the Senate proper?"
>You smirk
"No, but... I want to see if I can't achieve something, you know?"
>"As if you haven't already?!"
"Well... there's never been a male in the Consulate. One more good mission would get me in there - maybe with the ponies? They're an ally, sure- but also a secondary target if neces-"
>"FLIER!"
>Some soldier cries out a warning, and you feel the cart suddenly stop
>"ARMS! ARMS UP-"
>*pomf!*
>Four limbs hit the top of your wagon
>Without hesitation, Brunhilda dives ontop of you, shielding you with her body
>"HAVE AT YOU-"
>Greta launches up, gripping one of the limbs of the assailant and pulling her bodily through
>And it's at this time, and from your viewpoint, that you realize it's no gryphon
>The gray flank of a mare rips through the fabric
>And it is a prodigious flank
>You take a few moments to admire it - though not as much as Greta, who gets a faceful of it as the pony slams her into the floor of your transportation
>Greta twitches, but doesn't move
>K.O.

>The pony looks around before seeing you, smiling wide. "I brought you a letteeerr~"
"Wh-Uhnnn, Brunhilda-"
>"What the Tarta-"
>The mare, letter in mouth, boop-kisses your handler
>Brunilda's mouth closes around the letter, and the mare pulls away
>"Oooh, snacks! Itadkamasyuu!"
>Brunhilda looks down at the mare, then at you - then pulls the letter out of her mouth.
>"Royal seal of Canterlot?" With a flick of her wrist, she pops it open. 
>"Dear Human Anonymous,
>Magic is hecka OP
>Don't try anything with my ponies or you'll regret it
>When I go
>I go hard
>And when I scrunch
>I scrunch really really hard
>Yours,
>The Prettiest Pacifist Pony Princess."
>The two of you share a look, until you hear the clinking of a bowl
>The pegasai finishes lapping up the black powder, the crickling of thousands of tiny explosions in her mouth making her giggle with glee
>"eeeeeee tastypain~! Thank you so much!"
>Spreading her wings suddenly - and smacking you in the head, thankyouverymuch - the pegasus takes off
>straight up
>...taking your roof with her
>Like some canvas ghost, she floats away, her erratic flight path - much like a butterfly, you think - causes all spears and arrows to miss her by a decent margin
>The letter drops from Brunhilda's hands, and you think - no, you're sure you saw some of the words move
>Burning a message into your mind
[spoiler]>"P.S.
>However, if you want to take your senatorial commission and come here for some cultural exchange
>My sister and I are more than willing to house you in our suites for however long you'd like"[/spoiler]
>And then, almost as an afterthought
[spoiler]>P.P.S.
>After eight years of anal;
>Puffy
>Pony
>Pussy."[/spoiler]
>"Oh by the gods - Anon, you're bleeding-"
>As Brunhilda cups your chin to look at the blood trickling from your nose you study her face
>She cares
>That's actual concern - not for an asset, but for a person
>person
>...you're a person again

>You reach up and rest your hands on her shoulders, staring into her eyes for the first time in nearly a decade
>The eyes of someone who sees you for you
>......maybe settling down isn't such a bad idea after all

END