Choices

Author's Notes: This story is erotic fiction written by Arilia. I reserve the right to be listed as the author of this story, wherever it is posted. If found posted anywhere except Literotica.com with this note attached, this story is posted without my permission. © Arilia 2017

Anahet's story explores the interaction of sex, gender, war, and magic in an original fantasy universe. Her world includes more species, sexes, and body types than seen on Earth, and as a valkyrie, Anahet's different in several ways.

You can jump straight into chapter 2 if you'd like. The story picks up after Anahet survives a near-fatal robbery on a rural road.

Thank you for reading, and enjoy!

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CHAPTER 2 - CHOICES

Fields of crops rustled gently in the wind as I rode past quiet farmland. Fatigue gnawed at me. I only slept a few hours the previous night, but I urgently needed medical care, so I pushed my horse onwards. My arm stung were the magical bindings of yesterday's field treatment slowly unraveled.

I caught sight of the edge of town as evening approached. There wasn't much to say about the outskirts of Behan. An old farmstead straddling the road now served as a caravanserai – a stable and inn for merchant caravans to rest and recover. Numerous buildings filled the skyline just beyond the waystation.

The military camp sat atop a small hill just before town, ringed by a tall wooden palisade. The fence provided basic security against civilians and spirit-beasts. It wouldn't help much against a coordinated attack, but that was rarely necessary, even in times of war.

I passed the camp's security checkpoint without incident. Rows of tents and permanent structures filled the camp's interior. I stabled my horse and retrieved a change of clothes from my pack, deciding on a simple black shirt, skirt, and undergarments. I wasn't worried about fashion. The outfit would look ridiculous with my combat boots, but I had other priorities as I walked to the small hospital with clothes in hand.

A nurse directed me to the empty medical room. I removed my armor and shirt while waiting for the doctor to arrive. Beneath the clothing, I discovered a sickly bruise on my aching arm. Arcane first aid usually held things together long enough for the body's natural healing to complete the process. However, my damaged artery needed special care.

The doctor entered a few minutes later. An orderly topknot held her long blond hair above a pale, freckled face and blue eyes. Her stride halted slightly as she caught sight of the runes on my body, but she quickly focused her attention my injured arm. "Hello, I'm Captain Johansson."

I set the pouch of my remaining mana dust on the table. "Here you go. I'm Captain Koriana."

"So, what happened?" she asked while inspecting my arm.

I described the injury and my field treatment. She immobilized my arm with two straps to the bed, then poured the mana dust into a partially-full inkwell. Full-time military personnel receive free doctor care, but civilians and freelance mercenaries like myself provide the necessary dust payment.

She dipped a wide-tipped calligraphy brush into the ink well. With swift, precise strokes of the pen, she began painting a glyph on my skin. I quickly lost track of the nuances of the pattern. I saw innovation in her movements, revealing a rare passion for medical care beyond simple technical expertise.

Healing magic was incredibly challenging. I primarily studied runelore altering mental perception, which was far easier, because it influenced a person's kami (spirit) in the ethereal plane. Nature, on the other hand, was the physical embodiment of the Kami-sama Nima. The world and everyone in it was part of her, like how the numerous tiny organisms teeming within us are part of our own biology. That deity dislikes getting poked and prodded by magic. It took a great deal of skill to tempt her to change physical form, and Captain Johansson was skillfully writing a love letter on my arm to that great worldragon.

"Your runelore's quite good," the captain flattered in a conversational tone.

"Oh, hardly," I replied with a laugh. "My first aid feels drawn by a child compared to that masterpiece taking shape on my arm."

"Thank you, but I'm serious." she replied with a smile on her face, while her gaze remained focused on her work. "Not many patients know how to treat such a serious wound, even temporarily. Do you have medical training?"

I shook my head. "Nothing extensive. Just some private studies, and what I learned in the army."

"Where did you serve?"

"Four tours in Juritai."

"Any active duty in the past few years?"

"Just private contracting. You?"

"Mostly the same. I was stationed at a field hospital in Fidi during the 70's," she responded as she finished the basic pattern on my arm. With slower motions, she began filling in details with the brush.

"Any family?" I asked.

"Parents and two brothers in the southern Empire. I had the opportunity to see them again a few years back. What about you?"

"No family. I was born in Anarken thirty-one years ago."

She stopped a moment, then continued her work without looking up. "Ah. I'm sorry."

"It was a long time ago," I reassured her. "My parents and I made it to the refugee camps. I didn't really understand what was going on, as a kid, but later recognized the sacrifice they made by insisting I eat first every day. I try to live up their example."

I honestly try, but life is shit, and we don't always get a choice.

"Honoring your family."

I nodded. "And helping others in similar circumstances. I trained as a CAO." Civilian affairs officers act as intermediaries between the Army and civilians in foreign war zones.

"How many languages?" she asked as she finished the glyph. I felt the ink heat up on my skin, and the surreal moving sensation started within my arm as the interior rearranged itself.

"Four, including Medinese. I specialized in Jura, of course, though I also trained in Amacavi and Elucian."

"Ah, I wish I knew more!" she said wistfully while unstrapping my arm from the bed. "I only know Medinese, and enough Elucian to get by. I had to rely on interpreters like you when speaking with locals on deployment."

I chuckled at the comparison. "We tell you the word for stew; you save our lives. I think we get the better end of

that

bargain! Thank you, Captain Johansson."

"Of course! And by the way, I'm Linnea."

"I'm Ana." I reached out with my uninjured arm, shaking her hand.

She looked up to my face. "Hold still, Ana. This other bruise shouldn't take long." She applied a few marks to my cheek, and I felt my skin tingle as the ink heated up. The magic did its work as she retrieved a divining rod from across the room. With a careful pour of the ink well, she measured out enough of the remaining liquid to cover her service fee, then returned the rest to me in a small vial. "There you go. Check back in at any time if you encounter complications."

I nodded and replied, "Thank you!" She departed the room with a friendly wave. I changed into fresh clothing, and left for the administrative building.

The lieutenant on duty looked up from a newsletter on his desk, then stood and saluted. He was young, probably in his early 20s, with dark skin and short curly black hair. I asked for the intelligence office. He directed me to a side room.

There I found a midaged woman with long red hair in a tidy ponytail, pale skin, and a major's insignia on her uniform. I saluted as she looked up from the books on the table.

"At ease," she stated. "How can I help you?"

I described the robbers I encountered yesterday. She stepped over to cabinets on the wall while listening, then searched through several drawers and pulled out a document.

My guess was correct. The muggers were part of a group of six Varangian guardsmen dishonorably discharged from the Empire. They lived in Behan a few years, then left several months ago, and started harassing travellers along the road. A recent encounter with a merchant caravan ended violently. The citystate issued a warrant for the remaining criminals' arrest, while the landsknecht corps placed a bounty. The reward was decent, but would dry up quickly. I needed a job.

The major recorded my contact information and several key details of the encounter. "Thank you," she said with a nod. "We'll send a private to the location you described. You can pick up your pay in a day or so."

I thanked her and left for the main office. The lieutenant colonel in charge of the outpost was an elderly Elucian man with short-cropped black hair. I saluted; he nodded.

"Hello, I'm here about the Night's Edge expedition?" I asked hopefully.

"Already full," his cracked voice carried through the room. "A rather large group arrived earlier this week."

"Ah. Anything else available?" I asked, likely revealing disappointment in my voice.

"Afraid not," he replied with a sympathetic shake of his head. "However, there is a caravan leaving next week in need of a new escort, if you're still available at that time."

"Thank you, sir," I replied and saluted, then left the room after he nodded.

Damn. My information was out of date.

I was shit out of luck, and worse -- nearly out of money.

I needed a free place to stay with night rapidly approaching. Landsknecht outposts like these only provided sleeping quarters for active hires. I had to find work in town. I retrieved my horse and belongings from the camp stables while weighing my options.

I decided to use my Companion certification. Don't get me wrong -- I enjoyed the work, but it usually led to unwanted attention. I hoped to remain anonymous on this trip. My first time in Behan landed me a great temp job handling crowds for a festival. Landsknecht rarely saw any combat in peacetime. Most of us served as police or guards, breaking up bar fights, protecting livestock, or watching stores at night. The festival was a fun diversion from normal mundane work. I could find other jobs to do around town, but it would be a gamble. The scout would notice the lingering effects of the spell I used, and probably wouldn't keep their mouth shut. There'd be rumors around town within a day. I decided to go with the reliable option.

I entered the grounds of the caravanserai. The roadside inn sat near the military outpost, both at the edge of town. It primarily served as a waystation for merchant caravans on long journeys. The grounds contained a barn where I stabled my horse, and a nearby house, which served as a small tavern. The cobblestone highway led between the buildings into the heart of town.

Behan had no outer wall. The townsfolk relied on the army, landsknecht, and central castle for defense, where ancient stone battlements ringed the noble's residence and mana well. Noble dynasties jealously guarded the mana spring forming the core of each citystate. They dammed up all the outflowing energy into mana crystals, which acted as a literal source of wealth and power in tangible form. The crystals trapped immense arcane potential for runecasting. One sack of crystals could easily represent an entire year's wage for an average citizen. Small weights of powdered crystal served as common currency, something I sorely lacked right now.

I strode towards the inn with a glance to the sign over the door. Second Street Cafe & Stables. Artwork combined symbols for the worldragons Advena and Nila, comet and earth, travel and home.

Clearly not going for subtlety.

The interior was small and brightly lit. Someone had converted an old dining room into a cozy restaurant. There were a dozen small tables arranged about the room, full and humming with quiet conversation. No one took notice of me. I stepped up to the bar and spoke to the server, who left to fetch the owner from the kitchen.

About a dozen patrons ate in the tavern. They wore the colorful garb common for merchants to dazzle and attract customers in a busy marketplace. Several relaxed at the bar with me, the closest of whom sat to my right. She looked like a young adult of Amacavi descent. Long black hair flowed down over her sky blue robe, mostly covering bronze skin a few shades lighter than my own. Traditional Amacavi tattoos adorned her face and hands - a rarity in modern times - and she wore a necklace of brass circles fashionable in distant Medio. She glanced my way as I sat next to her, then returned to her drink, continuing to read a newsletter.

The server returned with the owner from the back room. The establishment was small enough for the owner to act as hiring manager, accountant, and presumably other duties. He had curly black hair, dark skin, and rings in each ear. They looked like Voan designs.

I had already unrolled my Companion registration papers on the bar. "Greetings! I'm Ana. I'd like a long-term stay, if something's available. Most likely a week."

"Pleasure to meet you!" the owner exclaimed with a genuine smile as he bowed to me. "I'm Turio. Thank you for choosing to stay here. We're fortunate to have someone of such high stature gracing my humble inn. May I see those?" He gestured to my papers, and I nodded, pushing the documents towards him.

I didn't mind what he saw. I'm open about who I am, and besides, news would get around soon enough. Nevertheless, I was thankful he skipped over the basics. It gave me another day or two of anonymity before awkward stares began from strangers.

COMPANION OF MEDIO

Name: Anahet Nenkhera Koriana

Birth: c.1858

Sex: Valkyrja

Ethnicity: Medi-Amacavi

Certification date: 7th of Princepe, 1877

He glanced at my picture, then the official signatures of certification, and flipped to the page on medical history. The certification was mostly symbolic. Fake companions who couldn't meet expectations were easily discovered, after all. People still tried, occasionally, because we attracted wealthy clientele.

I drank a cup of water offered by the server while waiting for Turio. As I looked around the tavern, I noticed the blue-robed woman at my side giving me a strange look. She tried to hide it, darting her gaze back to her newsleaf, but I saw her cheeks blushing.

Well, damn! Probably saw the first page. Oh well. Doesn't look like she's going to make a scene.

The innkeeper completed his review of my papers, then stamped a Behan city glyph on the last page of my lengthy travel history. The stamps typically contained a low grade mixture of mana dust and ink to deter forgers. "Would you like to see your room?" he asked with a friendly smile and gesture to a side door.

"Not right now, thank you," I replied. "Something to eat, please? Anything from the desert, if you can, though a different meal will be fine. It's been ages since I've had good Amacavi food."

"I'll see what I can do." He bowed and returned to the kitchen. The server glanced to me to see if I wanted a stronger drink; I shook my head, and she returned to other patrons.

I thought about potential clients while waiting for the food. When the server brought it out, I recognized the basic ingredients, but the combination of spices smelled unfamiliar. It came with a wooden spoon and chopsticks. I snapped the sticks apart and rubbed off the splinters (definitely a low-end establishment, but I liked it that way). I took a whiff of my food before picking up an exploratory bite.

A warm voice drifted to my ears as I tasted the flavors, "You might try the spoon. It's easier to scoop up the semolina that way."

I glanced to my side and offered a thankful smile to the blue-robed woman now gazing my way. I saw the familiar look of polite curiosity of those seeing a valkyrja for the first time. Her brown eyes avoided downward glances, even to look at the food.

I set the chopsticks into the bowl and picked up the spoon. I preferred sticks, but decided to be courteous. "Thank you. You know this one?"

"Couscous. Steamed semolina topped with stew. I convinced Turio to experiment with the western style: almonds, cinnamon, and sugar."

"Ahh, I could taste the cinnamon," I purred in delight before eating another spoonful. "Are you from Rabat?"

"Salé, actually. Have you been there?" Her eyes lit up with interest.

I shook my head. "I haven't travelled that far north. Only familiar with it from books. I've lived most of my life in the citystates, and the Empire."

"Oh, you should go!" I saw excitement in her gaze as she rest a hand on my arm. I wore only the simple black shirt and skirt after the doctor's visit, and my skin tingled slightly from her soft touch. I didn't mind. It was nice to have a real conversation instead of awkward questions.

She didn't seem to notice her gesture while continuing enthusiastically, "It's a wonderful journey up the river. Weeks of peaceful travel without lifting a finger, and Meknes is fantastic! If you go there in time for the celebration of Sal, you can even see- oh!" She hurriedly withdrew her arm.

"I'm terribly sorry," she hastened to say. "I get so caught up… been away from home for years, honestly, and may be getting a little… nostalgic," she added with a bashful grin. "Plus, I'm distracting you from your food! How rude of me!"

"It's perfectly alright," I replied with a reassuring nod. "I'm Ana."

"Gwen." Her earlier awkward look was completely gone, much to my relief. It's amazing how much a little conversation can help overcome perceptions.

"I can't talk much while eating, but I'd love to hear about your homeland. How'd you end up down here?"

She beamed as she told me more about it. Gwen grew up in port cities along the north edge of the Amacavi desert. Her family, moderately successful spice traders, moved from place to place throughout her childhood. With her parents' blessing, money, and contacts, she left a few years ago to start an independent life as a merchant.

Janus save me! This woman is so confident, intelligent, and successful. And her curves...

I stopped that line of thought, and squirmed as my wet pussy soaked my panties.

I hope that doesn't show through.

I didn't want her to see my desire. I liked the way she looked at me as a friend, instead of some bizarre two-sexed aberration, some

object

of fascination and revulsion. I struggled to suppress my valkyrja biology as both organs begged for attention. I couldn't do much about damp garments. I could hide my erection, though. I subtly rest a hand on my thigh for a while as we spoke, then when she wasn't looking, I pushed to one side, hiding my shaft in the crevice between leg and waist. The tip threatened to push out the waistband of my skirt, but remained hidden.

I sighed in relief.

"Is everything okay?"

Fuck.

Gwen looked at me with a concerned expression. I flashed her a grin, pointed my spoon at the bowl, and lied. "Yes, just really enjoying this!"

"Ah, it's wonderful isn't it! Some of my spices are actually in there."

"Wow, that's amazing!"

She beamed with pride. "I love making people happy with good food. I dream of starting my own trading company some day, connecting the spice routes all the way from Otihui and Pihuika to the center of Medio itself!"

Her ambitious nature really brought out the aggressive side of my sexuality. It's much more satisfying to take a strong, confident lover than a limp fish. I focused back on my food.

Stay friendly.

I swallowed hard, and hoped my voice didn't give away anything as I asked, "What brought you here?"

"A caravan traveling between the citystates. They passed through Lacet while I was in town, and I joined up to get to Behan. It went well for most of the trip, but..." she hesitated, and the excitement in her voice suddenly faded. I saw a downcast look in her eyes. "We were... waylaid on the road. A bunch of assholes led by a cruel man called Jarn."