After a luxurient night spent wrapped around the peach skinned body of Naphtalie, the men were surprised to awaken and find her missing. Three things were disturbing about that. Firstly, how in the three kingdoms had she gotten up out of bed without either of them knowing? Secondly, both he and Gavin were now in the bed together alone and naked, which was not a desirable situation at all. Thirdly, where on earth was she since her gown and stays still lay spread over the chaise lounge by the window -- her pearl studded silver slippers cast aside similarly.
They blinked at each other, then abruptly rolled over, to sit on opposite sides of the bed.
'Where do you think she is? Said Gavin, avoiding his gaze and hastily pulling on his breeches.
Ryleigh stared hard at his deerskin boots that he was struggling to lace since his workworn hands had not yet caught up with the rest of his fully awake body. 'Somewhere, where clothes aren't required?' he ventured, pursing his lips in concentration.
'So likely t'will be the bath or another bed then.'
They knew which of those options was the most likely. So they set about visiting the chambers of the most likely candidates, strategically opting to leave her cousin Sophia's till last. They were right to do so. For, from within the room of stallion number two, or Daniel as he was commonly known as to kith and kin, they could hear sounds of a most concupiscent nature.
'Shall we just leave them to it?' suggested Gavin, realising from the noise that the Queen had the other three stallions with her.
'Indeed we will not.'
Ryleigh boldly rapped the door. The cacophony of moaning and grunting halted. After several moments the door creaked open and Daniel peered around the door.
'What do you want?' he said brusquely.
'We're here to make sure her Majesty is alright,' said Gavin. 'We awoke to find her gone.'
Daniel laughed. 'Did you really? Well, she's perfectly alright now. Utterly perfect. At least some of us can do our job properly.'
Before they could form a fitting response he slammed the door in their faces, to return to what they could only imagine was a three way airtighting of the Queen.
Ryleigh turned and strode down the hall snarling at everything in his path. 'Impudent whelp. He'll regret that.'
Gavin, trotted after him. 'What shall we do?'
Ryleigh puffed out his chest as was his habit when beset by high emotion. 'Fuck her better than the rest, that's what. The first chance we get. Whatever she asks, we will do. Without hesitation.'
These words made a huge impression upon Gavin. When she and her cousin joined the rest of the entourage for the short journey into Jarlsgard later that morning, he wondered what secrets she hid beneath the great black hooded cape she wore. He watched her closely. Did the seed of the three other stallions linger still inside her womanhood only to drip out like candle wax down her thighs as they rode? Was their skin furled like tiny parchment scrolls beneath her nails, from the raking and scoring of their flesh as they copulated? Was her pussy reddened and tender from the triune rutting, her rose coloured pearl raw and overserviced? His member stiffened at these heated imaginings and as he subtly adjusted his throbbing shaft, he told himself that he would verily take Ryleigh's advice. The first chance he got he would distinguish himself from the rest of them both inside the bedroom and out. His time would come, he thought to himself, he would make damn sure of it.
When they arrived at the tournament a half hour later, all was revealed as to what lay under the sinister black cape. Laced tightly to her lithesome body was a full suit of obsidian polished leather. On her elbows, shoulders, torso and thighs, filigree armour of the lightest, finest quality sheathed her. She sat grandly in an ornate golden throne having already been divested of her cape by her ladies. To her left and right the Seed Bearers watched the way the leather molded to her hips and ass as she took her place in their midst. The Queen never looked at them directly but they knew she knew their eyes were upon her. They could tell by the mischievous tilt to her lips. All that was forgotten though when the Master of the Tournament took his place in the arena below.
'My Queen,' he bellowed, bowing deeply then spreading his arms wide. 'And the Queen's much beloved people. I do welcome you all to this year's illustrious games held in honour of our late King, King Torsten the Great.'
The crowd numbering many thousands cheered and Naphtalie nodded her head in appreciation at this mention of her father.
'In a time honoured tradition many centuries old, it is customary that the ruler of Centenium host the national games every ten years, here in the beautiful city of Jarlsgard,' he continued. 'Over the course of the next three days, we shall see bravery and skill the like of which you will be hard pressed to observe outside of the battlefield. Contenders from all over the kingdom will compete for various prizes the ultimate of which will be made known by the Queen herself on the last day.'