The day passed as the rode along. They neither hurried, nor tarried, rather taking a leisurely pace. The device inside her played about, as if by whim, but the princess knew her master held the strings. She was amazed at the wizardry of his devices, and it pleasured her as they rode.
The princess would have preferred an even slower pace, prolonging the inevitable, but the prince would urge them on at intervals. The princess and the maid spoke on many things, the guards behind them never once taking any notice, but rather plodding along behind them, tired expressions plastered upon their faces.
As the sky turned above them, its colors shifted from bright robin's egg, to now a vibrant pink hue. Dusk approached, and the outlanders' encampment loomed much larger before them.
No longer just a collection of dark shapes on the horizon, the camp appeared much bigger up close. Bright banners flew above a large number of tents, flapping in the gathering breeze. Cookfires burned in small thatches of them. A good number of horses grazed on high grass just at its outskirts. The princes could make out the shapes of men moving about the camp. Her apprehension rose with each plod of their mounts. Surely the Queen would not have her be savaged by every man within this encampment, she told herself. From the looks of it, it could be thousands.
The maid caught her eye, and whispered soothingly. "No my love, not all."
They arrived at the outer defenses just as fireflies began their skyward dance. Night had not completely fallen, but torches had already been lit. Two stalwart men abandoned their former occupations, mostly holding up their shields by leaning upon them, and strolled into the road.
One of the sentries raised his hand in salute. "Hail, noble company! Approach not if your aim be to cause mischief."
Tarquinne returned the salute. "Behold my forearm, I bear no hidden blade. By your leave, I have been sent by my liege to treat once again with your chieftain. I and my company bring no ill omen."
"Ah, Lord Tar-Quinn... your face is known to us. Please allow us to have your horses watered. They have traveled far for one day. The chieftain has indeed laid a feast for your arrival, and the watch shall set soon. Set foot on solid ground, and be welcome." The sentry bade them dismount, and left his comrade to resume his leaning.
Assured that their belongings and horses were taken care of, the small band was escorted to a large main tent, in the center of the camp. Rich laughter and song flowed out with the warm light escaping the large flap. The sentry drew it aside, and they entered the outlander's banquet, leaving their two guards outside. The maid drew the princess aside , begging a few moments to relieve themselves.
Out of sight, she commanded the princess to once again raise her skirts, and together, they withdrew the Inquisitor's training device. The maid cleaned it with her tongue before hiding it within a small satchel she carried. She grinned as she tasted the princess upon it, her eyes locked upon the princess', a lustful smile on her soft lips. Though the glass device was intensely pleasurable, the princess was glad to be relieved of it.
Inside, all conversation ceased as the trio entered. Round a large fire pit sat many men. Most were dressed in well-made tunics of heavy cloth, and thick leather leggings, though their colors and patterns varied with each man. Most had long hair, many with thick beards, but to the princess, appeared clean. Their faces had the look of seafarer's, tanned and deeply lined. Most of the eyes staring back at the strange trio were piercing blue. Though they were not arrayed for war, many weapon racks could be seen distributed around the outer walls, each bearing lances and swords, pikes and shields.
Silence reigned for an eternity. The seated men looked to the trio, at each other, and back again. At last, a bear of a man seated beyond the fire, slowly rose to his feet. His chest was broad, eyes bright, towering above the warm fire. When he spoke, his voice rumbled low like far off thunder.
"Ah... Prince Tar Quine." said he. "Welcome to your and your company on this fine night. Our last meeting was brief indeed, though I see the wisdom in your coming to us. We were most confused why no answer came to our hails or banners. I was most pleased to hear of your return to our camp. We have much to discuss. Come, the evening meal has been smoking in our fires. Break bread with us; join us in laughter and songs of battle."
Prince Tarquinne made a low, sweeping bow. "Hail, worthy kinsman. I am honored to join in your company. I bring word from my liege. When we spoke last, I came unawares of our ruler. It is my duty to discern any threat to our realm, and was joyed to find not an enemy, but mine own kin."
In a whirl of activity, servants began bringing in the evening's feast. Platters and trays laden with food were place steaming before each man in the company. Wild boar, roast duck and suckling pig, fruits and great ears of corn, and flagons of mead soon also appeared. Tarquinne took a place of honor beside the chieftain, bidding the princess and the maid to low stools behind him.
Sitting low upon them, the clothes they wore caused their large breasts to push uncomfortably high, a sight which was not lost on the men gathered round the fire. The underlings served their chieftain Tymrilll first, followed by Prince Tarquinne.
"We had hoped our cousin, the King, would accompany you this night. Our eyes have not met in many, many years." replied their chieftain.
"Alas, my lord Tymrill," began the prince. "Our king has been taken ill. It surely must have been many years since you have passed through this realm. Indeed, our King carries a terrible plague, and has shut himself away these many years in his own tower. All who draw near to him quickly succumb and die, while he himself remains. I myself have seen him only once in all of my four and twenty years. And only then, from far below in the courtyard."
A roar of disbelief buzzed about the gathering. "Oh! This news brings terrible woe to my heart, young Tar Quinne!" bellowed Tymrill. "We knew not of your kingdom's misfortune. You guessed correctly that we have not visited our kinsman in many seasons. We have not crossed these lands since the time of the last High Moon, nearly twenty and five years ago. We are sorely vexed we journeyed not sooner. Had we come before, perhaps our medicine men could have found a potion for him." To this, all of the company hung their heads.
"Do not let your heart be troubled, my cousin," soothed Tarquinne. "Medicine from the entire realm has been sent for, and sampled. Sadly, none served as remedy."
The tent was quiet for a time, the outlanders trying to come to grips with the terrible announcement, Then a low voice came rumbling over the crackle of the fire. Tymrill, the great war chieftain, cousin to the king, began to sing a somber dirge, soon quietly joined by those of his company.
