Nicole's Note: In the real world, consensual nonconsent requires deep trust, as well as much more setup than the fantasy we play with here bothers with. Keep in mind that it is a fantasy. I'm sure the elf bimbos and hypnosis will make that clear enough. ;)
Also, this story features a couple cute lesbian trans women. If you're uncomfortable with stories featuring cocks, that's totally valid. If you're uncomfortable with trans women or don't see them as "real women", that's not valid at all, that's embarrassing.
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Miari's hands were on her hips as she looked over the old castle, eyes narrowed. Well. She was here.
The Toxin Ranger had been tracking the activities of Lady Ciliata for a long time now. The baroness of this particular domain liked to keep a low profile, only coming out to play when she found something, or
someone
, she wanted. Fey barons and baronesses were rare, and few people had ever seen Lady Ciliata in person—her 'official' castle was managed entirely by servants, many of whom had been trained to be almost as dangerous as mindweavers themselves.
The hunt had been exhausting and dangerous work. Most Toxin Rangers were content to spend their time protecting an assigned lodge, but upon arriving in the Western Plains barony, Miari had quickly determined that it was not going to be safe for her to stay in one place for too long. Lady Ciliata was very powerful, and her agents and thralls were dug in too deep; it had taken everything Miara had to stay one step ahead of them
and
hunt for the elusive baroness.
Miari had needed to do a lot of careful investigation and area sweeps to find her target, as the kitsune had several castles and estates, all designed to lure in unsuspecting prey. But the distribution of spelled peaches gradually revealed a discernable pattern.
This
had to be the wicked kitsune's true home. This was the center of all the deliveries, the nearest point that all of Lady Ciliata's agents seemed to congregate around.
Plus, it was surrounded by massive, heavy-laden peach trees. Miari smirked. That was a pretty foolish tell, frankly.
Granted, the trees surrounding the manor were younger than she'd expected, and smaller—if they were dire peaches, they definitely needed a few more decades to grow out to the classic size. The fresh peaches Ciliata's agents liked to spread around the neighboring towns and baronies were much larger, and came in much more vibrant shades of orange and pink. Perhaps the
real
orchard was hidden deeper in the estate?
Miari checked that her sword remained loose in its scabbard. She was dressed for battle—a shirt of mail and a pair of leather trousers studded with extra straps for better protection. Even her long blonde hair was pulled back in a practical ponytail. With a knife in each boot and numerous tools and pre-prepared potions tied to the sash that arced from her shoulder to her hip, she looked like she was ready to storm the castle single-handedly.
Of course, 'storming' wasn't exactly the plan. Miari approached the door cautiously, eyes darting about for any sign of trouble. She wasn't too worried. Lady Ciliata was not known for her subtlety, nor for her magical finesse. This was unusual for a kitsune, who normally wielded great magical power. But fey who acted as human as she did—who took on human titles and lived in castles and ran estates filled with servants—tended to have weaker magic, as if the World Base itself could sense that they weren't as much fey as they ought to have been.
The peaches had been spiked with a fairly
clumsily
brewed brainwashing potion. Quite curable, which suggested to Miari that Ciliata didn't have an especially gifted brewer on board. A bit of luck. It suggested Lady Ciliata wasn't quite as resourceful as she thought she was.
Nevertheless, Miari kept her eyes peeled for danger. There could still be wards placed by one of Lady Ciliata's many faithful thralls, and one wrong move in a mindweaver's den spelled disaster.
Miari rubbed the little bronze mushroom brooch at her sash, and smiled grimly. As a Toxin Ranger, she had been more than prepared to treat those who'd been affected, and most of the victims would soon be back to managing complete sentences without so much as a 'like' or a cute giggle. Their bodies, too, would return to normal, though the peach's effects in that department were thankfully more minimal.
Of course, she thought, as a grain of salt touched on her memories,
some
had been a little disappointed to learn they wouldn't keep the curves they'd been given.
Honestly. Some people almost seemed to
enjoy
being transformed against their will.
Miari didn't understand non-Rangers sometimes. Common folk sometimes seemed so... ambivalent about fey mischief. But she was from Nyaska, and things were different in the city. She didn't understand the commoners at all.
She tried to respect it, but she also tried not to think about it. Part of her didn't really want to understand it.
Something caught Miari's eye, and just in time, she sidestepped a curious clump of rather sapphic blossoms growing next to the path. The blossoms were a brilliant hot pink, and dripped with something like honey as their stalks shifted—against the breeze—towards her.
They were almost as tall as Miari's hips, which was saying something: Miari was quite tall, enough to intimidate people, which she quite enjoyed. She hurried around, giving the flowers a very, very wide berth.
The door was unlocked.
Miari swallowed.
That... could be a very good sign or a very, very bad one.
She brushed some ochre-yellow seeall pollen from a pouch at her side over the doorknob. It wafted like chalk powder, as pale blue as Miari's own misty eyes, and settled on the shiny brass metal.
Nothing happened. She stared disbelievingly for a long moment. That... was that even possible?
Just as the dust was finishing settling, a breeze picked up and blew the dust back up into the air, and this jolted Miari back into the moment as she quickly covered her mouth to keep from inhaling it.
But gods, that was... a surprise.
The door was unlocked.
The door was untrapped.
Did Lady Ciliata
really
think nobody would find her? Had she assumed nobody would even bother to look?
Miari hesitated, then reached down and drew her sword. It slid from the scabbard soundlessly, to her satisfaction. Miari always took excellent care of her tools and equipment.
With any luck, she wouldn't need to use them. Miari was confident she had this well in hand. But, she thought, grimacing, sometimes in her line of work, things didn't exactly go to plan.
She reached down and grasped the doorknob. Belatedly, as she turned it, she wondered if a subtler trap might have been concealed within the mechanisms of the lock, or on the door itself.
But the door opened easily, and Miari gave a sly smile. It seemed that the Baroness was very much unprepared for this engagement.
As she entered, Miari was greeted by a world out of a storybook.
The foyer of the manor might as well have been a cathedral in its grandeur. The ceiling arched high, supported by elegant corbels with fine lacing. Colorful tapestries of abstract designs, pink and red and deep violet, draped from the walls and fluttered around like thick ribbon. Pale pedestals lined the walls, each bearing unique and beautiful works of art. There were free-standing pieces, too, such as a suit of rune-covered silver armor, or a hanging sheet of solid amber made to look like drapery, or a gorgeous pair of white armchairs styled to resemble sloping swans. The polished marble of the walls and ceiling—such a lavish, extravagant rarity in this part of the world—shone like misty glass, to the extent that Miari almost did a double-take. It was like a pale iced-over lake in the sunlight.
And it was
bright
. Miari flinched as her hand went to cover her eyes as the pulsing, many-colored glare of the hanging chandeliers, great priceless devices of glass and chain, pounded every inch of the room in ceaseless day.
The manor was magnificent, and Miari was briefly speechless, amazed at the sight. The Western Plains barons and baronesses were infamous for many things, including terrible vanity and terrible privilege, but she'd never heard of anything so extreme. This was like a royal castle, surely, from the stories Miari had heard about the old Royal Family. Or a cathedral, from the stories Miari had read about the time of the gods.
