The following is an original piece of fiction created for the entertainment of others only.

The Prophecy

By LJ58

I

"We're in trouble, mistress," the technically free, but virtually enslaved maid-companion of the pampered fifteen year old princess exclaimed as she rushed back to the cabin of their ship. Only days from sixteen, she was enjoying a tour of certain lands before returning to a betrothal arranged by her sire at her coming of age.

"Not pirates," the bored young redhead just shy of her sixteenth birthday drawled, truly unimpressed with the maid's fears. Marion had been her companion, and unofficial tutor since she had turned seven, and the pampered, and admittedly spoiled young girl felt little concern over her apparent histrionics, as she viewed them.

After all, she was the daughter of the king of T'Goll. The mightiest land in the known world. What did she have to fear?

"Nay. Worse," Marion told her. "The captain told me that storm blew us far off course. We are in Valdoran waters."

Now the girl paled, looking over at her guardian, and now looking truly concerned.

"Tell me you jest? Surely the captain isn't planning on stopping there?"

"He must, Lady Miranda," she rasped. "Our main mast is snapped. Most of the sails are badly damaged, and he lost some of the crew to the storm. He did not say aught else, but I got the impression there were worse damages he kept to himself. 'Twould explain much," she added grimly.

"But….Valdor if full of demons, and worse. They are father's mortal enemies," the princess gasped. "Do they learn I am aboard….!"

"Aye. I know. That is why the captain, knowing our dilemma, suggested a solution," she said anxiously, looking around as if fearing she might be blighted for what she was about to say.

"What? What can we do," Miranda demanded, knowing only the one land in her world she feared with true cause was now their destination.

"We must disguise you. I shall be a….a freewoman of Xantia, since that is what I was ere I was sent to serve your father by my father. You, however, shall have to be my slave-companion."

"Slave," Miranda rasped. "Why cannot I be a….a niece or something? Even a companion. A free companion."

"Because, Valdor does not recognize the Ranulf Accords as most of the five great kings do, lady," the blonde maid quickly explained, and went to her own luggage to start pulling out several articles to add to the things the captain had given her to help their deception. "You must know that," she demanded of her charge.

Miranda, who rarely paid attention to more than fashion, jewels, or increasingly….young lordlings, knew nothing of the sort.

Marion sighed. "In Valdor, you are either slave or free. If I, a free woman, traveled with a companion, even a sister, or other relation, she is likely to be taken as a slave by the slavers who ever seek fresh stock, claiming under their blood laws, that only one free female to each family is allowed.

"And were you but a paid companion, they would take you as nothing more than a collarless slave, and easily claimed as I would have no true authority over you. However, lady, as my slave, I have all rights over you, and not even the slavers can take you from me. And as I am the only female of my lineage here, they cannot try to take me so long as I do not violate their laws. Which, thankfully, I do know, having paid attention to my tutors," she chided the younger girl.

"But…..I won't truly become….?"

"For the time we are docked, I shall simply dress you, as usual, claiming 'tis my preference that you look as you do, but I shall have to put a collar on your neck to show you are mine. I shall use a special dye the captain gave me to paint a false brand on you that will look real enough, but it will fade in time. 'Tis our only hope, lady, so you must cooperate."

"I….I know," the young girl said quietly as Marion turned from her luggage with the items necessary to complete her transformation. "But….must we do this now?"

"We dock in less than two hours," she told the lady. "I do not know where exactly, but the captain has already raised the distress flag, and two Valdoran ships are flanking us. We cannot outrun them in our condition, so the captain was forced to ask aid lest they think we are hiding something, and then they would certainly attack."

"Very well, Marion….."

"Best start calling me mistress, lady. I… I shall call you Lady. That way I won't slip up, hopefully, and if any remark on it, I'll tell them 'tis a jest my father played in naming you so. The Valdorans would likely enjoy such a tale."

"Likely," Miranda grimaced as the maid lifted her chin, and buckled a padded, leather collar with a leash around her throat. The hasp snapped with a chilling sound, for it locked itself when closed, and only a key could remove the device.

"Do not fret….Lady, I do have the key," Marion stroked her dark, red curls. "We'll have to trim your hair, too. No slave ever had such curls," she realized.

"My hair," Mira groaned.

"Don't fret. By the time we finish our tour, and return to T'Goll for your betrothal, 'twill have likely grown back twice as long," Marion smiled at her as she now opened a small pouch the captain had given her and pulled out a small branding rod.

Miranda's eyes rounded at the sight of the thing, but Marion quickly calmed her.

"Don't fret. As I told you, the captain gave me a temporary dye. The brand will fade in a short time. But we must make it look authentic, so….."

"I do not like…..Ow!…..this," she yelped as she had bent over, letting Marion pull up her skirts to press the blunt-tipped rod to her left butt cheek, and sent the ink-filled needles into her soft, pale flesh in a preset pattern. A Xantian sigil her father used, which made the temporary brand seem quite real when

Marion pulled the branding rod back.

"Perfect," she said, studying the delicate brand that looked like a bird in flight with wings spread wide. "No one will suspect 'tis not a true brand. Now, for your…. Other hair," she said with a faint blush.

"Hair," the princess sniffed as she tugged in vain at the snug fit of the band about her throat that boasted the same silver sigil on its leash ring, the leash dangling from the same clip.

"I told you I had to trim your curls, Lady. I also have to ensure you…..you are bare…..there," she added with a downward glance. "Recall, slaves do not have…..woman's hair."

"I barely have any now," the young princess moaned. "It took me two years to get the few wisps I have now."

"'Twill grow faster as you mature. Still, you cannot have any do the customs' inspectors decide to check you over to prove my claim. Better a few inconveniences now, than a life of true slavery in a Valdoran slave pen, Lady," she called her again, stressing the title as her slave name.

"Aye," she sighed, and blushed as Marion turned her sit on the edge of her bed, pushing her back to lift her skirts higher to bare her girl's flesh.

Marion couldn't help but lick her lips as she stared down at the sparse curls dusting a fat, plump sex that begged attention. There was one more article the girl had to bear, but she wasn't going to mention it. The princess would be sure to ruin her planned deception if she knew in advance what was about to happen.

"This unguent," she said, "Will ease the irritation when I shear you, Lady. You'll feel numb for a little while, and then 'twill be done," she said, and poured the viscous fluid not on her plump mons, but over her hooded cleft, rubbing it in even as the girl groaned softly before the herbal potion began to steal the feeling from that sensitive part of her flesh.

Marion almost smirked when the girl gave a grunt of disappointment, for Marion knew she was already exploring her own maturing body and had often rubbed herself in the dark after they retired when she thought her sleeping. She wondered what the pampered royal would think if she learned that not only was Marion awake each time she explored her innocent flesh, but dreaming of her pink, juicy parts, and small, but firm little bosom. Dreaming of actually helping the young girl become a woman. For Marion had always favored girls to clumsy, selfish men.

Putting aside her own desires, Marion moved quickly to finish, for a successful deception spared not only her lady but herself. She palmed the small silver crescents, and thrust one curtly through the hood of her clit atop her pink cleft, and then snapped the matching halves together to form the slave-ring all slaves had in that tender place as proof of their status. She then used a razor the captain had provided, and quickly scraped away the few dark curls that dusted the tempting flesh, and wiped away the residue of the potion before pulling down the girl's pale, yellow gown.

Any pain, or ache she might feel as the potion faded could be written off easily enough, since by then the royal nymph would not dare speak if she was to keep to her role.

"Now for your other hair," she said and quickly produced a pair of scissors from her own things to start trimming the princess' thick, auburn curls, throwing the harvested mane into the nearby stove to be rid of the evidence.

By the time Marion was finished, the little princess looked even younger with the short, now almost straight bob that hung just barely brushing her shoulders and framing a pale, oval face of obvious beauty. She looked very much like the kind of young lass that would draw a slaver's eye and a collar. That was just the look Marion wanted for her. For it would add a convincing aura to the lady's role.

"Now, remember," she said, feeling the ship sway, and something thud hard outside the stateroom. "I am your mistress. You are Lady, my slave, and companion. You must act the part as a true slave, Lady. You must be a slave, or we are both doomed."

"What….What if I mess up," Miranda asked quietly, truly concerned now as guttural voices speaking the hated Valdoran tongue was now heard. Had they docked already, the increasingly frightened princess wondered.

"I shall simply say you have not been my slave long and were spoiled by a former master ere you came to my service. Now, simply try to remember your slave codes," Marion hissed as heavy footsteps sounded from outside, adding, "Most especially, do not look into anyone's faces. Slaves always look down. Remember that, if naught else," she hissed as a hard knock sounded even as she quickly packed away the few things she had out to change the lady into a slave.

"Who is it," Marion asked, and swallowed hard as she heard a curt, Valdoran voice order, "Open in the name of the king."

She shot a quick glance over to Miranda, nodding, and turned to the door.

"Forgive me," Marion smiled, switching to Valdoran as she opened the door to smile at the tall, rather lupine man with a thick beard. A lycanthrope, for certain. She heard they roamed free in Valdor. "I did not realize we had docked yet, sir. Has the captain said how long the repairs shall take," she inquired innocently as the big, hairy man stood before her, staring past her, eyeing the room.

"Who's with you, then, lady," she was asked curtly, and Marion was beyond grateful she had a talent for language and had learned Valdoran. Just as she was grateful for the king allowing her to go better garbed than most servants, allowing her to better carry off the look of a traveling lady.

"Just my slave. Lady," she gestured to the girl who had at least wit enough to drop to her knees and stare intently at the decking.

"Papers," he demanded, and Marion gave him an innocent look.

"Papers, sir? What papers? Father said naught about needing papers."

"Where are you from, lady," the hairy man demanded as two big, burly men in what looked like royal uniforms appeared outside the door as he spoke.

"Any problems, K'Viit?"

"None yet," the lycanthrope growled. "Now, lady. Where?"

"Why, from Xantia, sir, of course. My father is a merchant. A very rich one," she smiled sweetly. "He made quite a fortune in the guild," she prattled on, "And grew wealthy enough to entice a baron's daughter to his bed. She was my mother, of course. Anyway, when I reached my majority, he suggested I travel, and see the real world ere I considered my own course, and….."

"Enough," the feral man groaned, obviously well versed with the chatter of ladies. "Should have known," he grumbled, lifting a clipboard to scribble something as he muttered. "Infernal Xants never have paperwork. Well, your sire should have known better all the same," he directed at her, tearing off a slip of parchment, and handing it to her. "Have the wench assessed at the local guild ere you proceed," she was told. "And be certain you pay the proper taxes, too."

"Of course, sir. But….are you saying I must pay tax when we are simply staying here for repairs?"

"My apologies, Lady Marion," the captain, a thin, harried fellow entered the room at that moment. "I fear things are worse than suspected. We won't be making repairs here."

"What do you mean, sir," she asked as the three Valdorans moved on to the next stateroom to inspect it. She also moved to stand in front of Lady to mask the fact she had dared look up in alarm at the ship captain's declaration.

"Forgive me," he rasped, glancing toward Miranda. "But it seems our ship was damaged worse than we thought. She's being scuttled," the man told her.

"Scuttled," Miranda choked. "We….We have to stay here…..ah, mistress," she choked out as the lycanthrope peered in on his way back to the gangplank after checking all the passengers. None of whom, hopefully, had betrayed them.

Likely, though, they had their own problems to occupy them.

"Problems, captain," the Valdoran asked.

"Nay, good sir. Just explaining to the lady why we were going to have to leave the ship, and continue on by other means."

"Of course," the man nodded. "Enjoy your visit to Valdor, Lady Marion," he nodded, proving he had heard her addressed by the captain. Which likely meant he had heard Miranda's outburst. Lycanthropes did have uncanny senses, even in human form.

"Now, as I was saying, my men and I have to scuttle the ship. I fear the storm did far worse damage than we first thought. After she's unloaded, and I arrange for the shipment of our cargo by other means, we're going to hire a ship, or more likely join a guild caravan to the closest friendly border. Xantia, likely," he stressed meaningfully.

"Is that what you think best, captain," she asked, looking back at Miranda who was looking horrified by the implications of the man's words.

They both knew to cross a border, any border would mean her false registry would be registered with the slave guild in both lands, making her a legal slave by bureaucracy, rather than the usual means. That also meant fresh, true branding to clear customs offices if her mark had faded by then. It did not matter that she was a princess, she would be known as a slave, and it would be very hard for her to simply vanish. The guild had slave hunters employed just for the purpose of tracking runaways. After all, some slaves did employ clever means to hide. Even a king's daughter couldn't hide from such men. Especially if her body was marked by known customs' seals.

"I fear 'tis the only thing we can do, lady. I'll help you get your luggage offloaded, and see you settled into an inn. Once we settle matters with the harbormaster, we'll see what travel arrangements can be made. I warn you," he added critically. "We'll likely be in town for at least three days, or so, so be certain you pay all your taxes, and clear customs at once. That way you should have no problems for the rest of your stay in Valdor."

"I see. Can you tell me the name of this city, captain," she asked. "Just to give me an idea of where we are?"

"We're in Kybera, lady," the captain smiled now. "Just on the western border of Valdor, at the end of the Kyber River."

"So, Xantia would only be a nine-day journey north and west by carriage," she smiled.

"Aye. Just about that. Unless, of course, we can find another ship that might give us berth on to

K'Zir if you wish to finish your tour."

"I would prefer that, of course. Father would think if quite odd if I returned home too soon," she said, giving a soft laugh for the listeners beyond the room she now felt sure was out there. She had always had a sense for certain things, and it served her well at times. This, likely, was one of them.

"I'll see what I can find. Meantime, as I said, I'll have your things delivered to a suitable inn, and contact you with the details once I learn anything."

"Thank you, captain," she smiled. "You are very kind to go to so much trouble on my behalf. Come, Lady," she drawled, taking up the princess' leash as the captain left. "We should go take care of that pesky customs tax ere someone thinks to overcharge us for dallying," she told her airily as she grabbed the small pouch with the princess' jewels and her heavier coins to add to her own. She didn't want to lose the only true valuables they had to some potential thief.

Clothes could always be replaced. Gold and silver were far harder to come by and could cost them dearly if they were thought to be vagrants. She was just grateful that Lady was sticking to her masquerade, and wasn't throwing one of her infamous, temperamental fits over the possibility she might just end up caught in her disguise for life

Lady, as Princess Miranda was now called, trudged miserably after her as she was led out of the stateroom at the end of her leash. Few of the sailors even knew she wasn't a slave, for most were not around when she had boarded, her father insisting she traveled covertly to keep assassins from tracking her or trying to abduct her for nefarious means.

What had been a pleasant voyage to Paigantia to meet her future betrothed was suddenly a very dark, and grim adventure she had never wished for in her life. For Miranda was the kind of lady that liked her comforts and enjoyed her pampering. Suddenly, she was face-to-face with another aspect of life she did not like at all.

For outside of her father's kingdom, she truly was just another pretty girl who could be all too easily stolen for true, and only her maid's leash now kept her from that fate. Little wonder then that she kept close, her eyes focused on Marion's' apparently heedless back as she strolled off the docks, pretending to be dazzled by the greater buildings around them as she innocently asked for the local slave guild's customs' office.

"I can take you to the nearest customs office do you wish, lady," the lycanthrope from the ship smiled as he appeared behind them, making Miranda yelp, and jump closer.

Marion forced herself to ignore her and paid the girl's distress no mind as she smiled up at the big, hairy man who smiled at her. "Well, how delightful, sir. Father told me Valdoran men were quite chivalrous. I'm pleased to know he was right," she smiled at him, knowing well enough how sensitive lycanthropes were about their human status.

Besides, no male alive didn't enjoy a bit of flattery.

"You honor me, lady," the tall man with amber eyes smiled down at her, giving a half bow.

"Oh, and I didn't even think to introduce myself," she said, her free hand slapping her forehead, ruffling her blonde bangs. "How silly of me. Father always says a proper introduction…. Oh, well, never mind," she sighed, pretending not to notice the amber eyes rolling skyward. "I'm Lady Marion Drake, of Trinidad in Xantia, of course," she smiled, giving him a proper curtsy.

"Just plain ol' Jacob Butler, lady," the lycanthrope bowed a little more formally now. "Guild officer, at your service. Some call me K'Viit, as it's my….other's name."

"How delightful to meet you, Sir Butler," she cooed, feeling Miranda's gaze on her back, and sensing the young princess likely thought her mad just now. She just didn't yet realize how you managed such men. She was too used to lording it over those beneath her.

He only smiled at her obvious formality that was uncalled for due to his status, and especially his lineage.

"I believe I shall be quite lucky to have my very own guild escort," she smiled. "I'm sure to have things settled, and enjoying a proper supper for once in a timely fashion with you along," she praised him. "Just between you, and I, I do believe the captain kept the best food for himself and served us his leftovers," she murmured with a grimace. "For I cannot believe the swill he offered was his best," she said with a dainty shudder.

"Some men can be rogues," the guild customs officer agreed as they walked down the twisting lanes beyond the docks until they reached a small building with huge glass windows.

"And here we are. The customs office. Come in, and we'll have your papers in order in no time. "We have a fourth level witch who files for us," he winked. "She can finish up the worst mound of paperwork in just a snap of her fingers," he assured her.

"Oh, what a relief. I confess, when I was last in B'Zanna, I spent most of my vacation signing endless forms. 'Twas all quite dreary," she told him with a wrinkling of her still pert nose.

The lycanthrope smiled again and led her inside after gesturing her to precede him in a gentlemanly fashion. Her senses jangled, and she realized the fellow wasn't just nosing about as was his job. He was actually interested in her.

Well, this could get complicated, she realized as she followed him to a desk with a surprisingly orderly stack of files set just so.

"Have a seat," she was offered, and Sir Butler actually gave her his own padded, leather chair, taking a stool for himself. "Now, you've just the one slave?"

"Aye," she nodded, glancing only then back at the pale redhead who had the wit to settle into a slave posture of squatting with knees slightly spread beneath her modest gown. Apparently, the princess had actually paid attention to some things in her so far spoiled existence. "I call her Lady. Well, actually father named her Lady. I believe 'twas some sort of jest he was having at some fellow's expense. He never quite explained it to me," she admitted as the amber eyes rolled again, though Jacob continued to be patient as he pulled out a form, and began writing.

"Age?"

"Fifteen. Well, she will be sixteen in a few days, or so," she grinned. "I was thinking of giving her a party. Just for a lark," she said airily again, wriggling her fingers in amusement. "Of course, I didn't expect the captain to delay our journey and then sail us right into the heart of a storm. 'Tis been dreadful, I cannot say how much of a trial this trip has been."

"If you truly wish to go to K'Zir," Jacob told her proving he had been listening, "And enjoy the trip," he added with a wide grin, "I happen to know there is a respected merchant who is forming a caravan east this very week. He won't leave for four days, yet, but you'd have a much nicer time, and be surrounded by royal guardsmen to ensure your safety."

"Truly," she murmured, feigning interest, and guessing he was testing her. "And where in K'Zir are they going?"

"Well, they're only going to Trylls, as the merchant is escorting a royal duke's daughter, along with a variety of slave meat to the local auctions. The duke is sending a personal guard to protect both, though, and you'd have a chance to see far more of the kingdom, rather than just an endless, likely choppy ocean," he grinned.

"That does sound better than sailing about in that little wooden shoe," she smiled and looked at the parchment the apparent man-beast now slid over to her across the wide desk even as she realized such an escort would make ducking customs' officials would be even harder than she first feared.

"I'll have to inspect your slave, of course, to assess her," he told her now. "But if you wish to look over the pedigree I've prepared, I'm sure you'll find it all in order. Once I assess your stock's worth, and you pay her collar tax, you are free to go."

"Oh, thank you," she smiled as she gestured at Lady. "Of course, you see she is finely blooded. I cannot hide that. I enjoy dressing her up, too. Frankly, I think dragging about companions in rags is so tasteless."

"I know many slaves that are not so fortunate in their masters, lady. You have a kind heart," the lycanthrope smiled at her.

"Well, I am fond of the little imp. Even if she isn't completely trained as yet. But she still pleases me as she is," Marion beamed as she looked at Miranda, who was obviously blushing furiously for reasons only she knew since Marion knew she didn't understand Valdoran. The princess had shirked that class, too, feeling since they were enemies, she didn't need to know their tongue.

"Very well, then," he smiled back at her. "Let's finish this, and get you on your way," the lycanthrope said and rose to gesture at Miranda. "Stand up, girl, and let's see you."

"Oh, I'm sorry. The silly creature doesn't know Valdoran," Marion sighed, then looked down at the pale, apparent slave. "Stand up, lass," she said in Xantian, which she knew the girl knew as well as her native tongue but didn't dare use that one. "Let the gentleman inspect you".

Miranda just gaped at her.

"Now," she added curtly with a warning glare.

Miranda understood. She rose to her feet and swallowed hard as she kept her eyes downcast as the Valdoran man-beast tugged briefly at her collar to test it, or to get a better view of it. He then knelt before her and pulled her skirts up high, and it was all she could do to swallow her gasp as the man swatted her dimpled bottom as he grinned at the brand etched plainly in the small, firm bottom.

He then eyed the silver ring gleaming atop the plump cleft and slid his finger into his own mouth to lubricate it before sliding it brusquely right up inside her untouched sex. She gasped as she felt the calloused digit probe the snug channel, and tried very hard not to cry out as the man-beast finally dropped her skirts after he removed his finger before sniffing it, and licking it clean.

"A virgin still? At her age," he asked as he now slid his hands up and down her trim body, even checking her teeth and hair.

"And now you know why I was thinking of throwing her a party," she giggled as he sat back on his stool after Miranda sank back down in her slave posture, still blushing with shame at being handled by a common man-beast. It also galled her that her apparent mistress allowed it, and never said a word. She just wished she knew what it was they were saying, but the guttural tongue left her completely confused.

"I daresay she wouldn't be a virgin afterward," he grinned as he filled in the form on Miranda's Xantian brand, and penned in his assessment of the young slave.

"Five hundred silver," Marion gasped even as she opened her purse to pull out the necessary coins. "That much?"

"Well, I cheated a little. I didn't note she is still virgin. Otherwise, the assessment would be higher. But the tax is only five percent of value. So twenty-five silvers will pay the guild custom, and clear you for the rest of your journey," Jacob assured her.

"Oh, thank goodness," she sighed in relief, pretending not to understand such things as she handed him the required fee when she knew from her education that Jacob Butler had obviously given her a hefty discount. "Father would think me mad if I had to write for more funds so soon after departing," she informed him.

"Well, once I file the official copy of the pedigree," he said, handing her a rolled, and sealed copy for her records. "I can show you the way to a very reputable inn. Your luggage should be there by now, and you will be in time for supper. The Silver Swan serves a very fine roast pork."

"Oh, that does sound delicious," she smiled. Then, knowing men well enough, she smiled as she tucked the parchment away, and asked, "I don't suppose you'll be dining there yourself this evening?"

"I occasionally take an after dinner drink there. But mayhap if I had an invitation…?"

"I should be delighted," she beamed, feeling she could do worse than to have a guild officer escorting her about town on her first day in Valdor. It would make the usual slavers, and rogues think twice before approaching, or even targeting her. "I shall treat you to a meal, of course. 'Tis the least I can do for all your help, Sir Butler," she assured him.

"Now I am honored, Lady Drake."

"Oh, don't be silly. We're getting to be such fine friends, I insist you call me Lady Marion," she told him with a pat on his big, calloused hand.

The lycanthrope, a cunning, deadly adversary at any time, actually blushed.

Marion was no fool. She knew how to deal with men. And man or man-beast, a male was a male.

"Shall we go, then, Sir Butler?"

"To be fair, if we now friends, you must address me as Sir Jacob, ah, Lady Marion," he smiled as he rose with the official copy of her pedigree in hand. "Just let me…..submit this for filing, and….we'll be ready."

Marion smiled, feeling a bit anxious about actually having the princess' pedigree on an official guild roster, but there was not much she could do about it just then. When the dark-skinned woman with coal-black hair and eyes took the parchment offered and eyed them as they stood before her.

"This is Agatha. Just Agatha," Jacob told her as she took the pedigree, eyeing it closely. "She's the filing clerk I told you about earlier."

"A real witch," Marion asked as she studied the dark-skinned woman who was obviously Frankish.

The woman eyed Miranda as she studied the pedigree she was handed, along with the payment placed on her desk beside it, and snorted. "Another conquest, Jacob," she asked.

"Just a lady in need of help passing through," the lycanthrope smiled at his coworker.

Agatha snorted and waved her hand over the desk. The pedigree and the silver coins faded from where they had been, and Marion blinked as she applauded.

"Magic," she giggled. "I heard 'twas real, but I've never actually seen it," she exclaimed.

"Charming. Is your pet as empty-headed as you," she drawled.

"Now, Agatha," she was chided. "Be nice. Lady Marion is Xantian, and a guest in our land."

"Hmmph," the magic worker snorted, and went back to reviewing endless annals she had appearing and disappearing before her as she pointedly ignored them.

"She seems a bit stressed," Marion murmured as they turned to leave the guild office.

"That's just her way. She's actually quite nice once you get to know her. Say, if you don't mind a quick side trip, I know another magic worker that might just be able to aid you."

"What do you mean," she asked, trying not to betray any uneasiness as the tall man-beast accompanied her as they turned up the sidewalk toward the heart of town now, heedless of the press all around them. She knew Miranda followed, and having never felt the tug on her leash, knew she was ensuring her mistress didn't get too far ahead.

"Well, you said your pet wasn't very well trained and didn't understand even simple Valdoran," Jacob grinned. "I know a ninth level witch who does simple charms, and such that could hex her collar so she was ever obedient, and could understand whatever is said to her so you don't have to bother yourself with translating everything."

"That….would be handy," she choked out, but did not show her alarm, thankful Agatha had not caught anything out with them, since she knew fourth level witches of her caliber could easily sniff out deception if they put their minds to it. "Does it cost much?"

"For such a simple spell? A few coppers," he smiled. "And 'twill be my treat," he told her. "Since you are buying our supper," he grinned, and daringly took her free arm, her left hand still keeping a firm hold on Miranda's leash.

"Indeed, I am. I always keep my promises, and I've not had such an attentive gentleman keep me company in some time," she beamed.

"So, do you want to enchant her collar," he grinned. "'Twould save you some grief, in the end, I'm sure."

"Why not," she decided, knowing the spell would be broken once the collar came off anyway, and besides, that kind of spell might just save the girl's life if she was going to gasp, and resist every time a man so much as leered at her, or pinched her admittedly cute little bottom.

For Trylls was weeks away, and she definitely wanted to get out of Valdor alive, and free. By then, maybe she would have thought up something to spare the princess a life of genuine slavery. Although, a part of her did enjoy having the former brat at her beck and call. Especially when she thought of that trim, sensual body that was already blossoming beneath her gown.

"Then, this way, my lady," he said, breaking her secret thoughts as he glanced up at the pale silhouette of the full moon in the afternoon sky already sitting bloated on the horizon. He smiled and looked back at the tempting piece of woman-flesh beside him. Both pieces.

Tonight, Jacob decided, he would indulge himself. It had been a while, after all.

To Be Continued…..