Eshe's journey from the Order's camp to Niol had taken three days; three days of nonstop travel, muddy roads, little sleep, and even less food. Three days where they'd been absolutely confident in their mission and determined to achieve it. And once their message was delivered and the rumors of Queen Helena's sorceries were confirmed, they knew they had to make the return journey swiftly.
After spending a night in the palace, of course. They needed the food and rest—traveling without would do them no good. A full recovery was so important, in fact, that their one night at the palace stretched out into three. Eshe built their strength back, indulging in luxury perhaps a tad more than was necessary and taking great care to thoroughly please their gorgeous lovers in the baths. At the dawn of the fourth day, though, they had to face reality. It was time to leave Niol and travel non-stop to the Order's camp.
Except for rests in taverns and villages, of course. Gruch was a fine steed, but long uninterrupted rides were hard on him. Stopping briefly from time to time was a good way to both keep him happy and to keep Eshe's head clear. In fact, frequent rests were so important that they stopped at nearly every town they came across for a meal and, in most cases, company. After all, nobody would be worse off if they just so happened to fuck the barmaid who was making eyes at them all night. Or the rugged trapper they found bathing in the woods. Or the farmer's daughter running errands right outside her village.
"Like that. There you are. Let it in. Does this feel comfortable for you?" Two of Eshe's slick fingers worked their way into the young woman's ass, pausing whenever her muscles tensed.
"Yes..." Her reply was more sigh than speech, as she finally eased into the knight's probing. No more than a second later, Eshe felt their fingers get sucked deeper into her. She moaned, the long and warbling sound of overcoming trepidation and finding pleasure on the other side. "Aaaaah!"
Eshe grinned. "Ready?"
The farmer's daughter—they couldn't quite remember her name...Gina? Jenny? Jane?—nodded excitedly, her round flush cheeks bouncing up and down. "Mhm!"
The knight's fingers curled upward and deeper into her ass, tapping against a spot that made her squeal and shudder. Eshe was sure to move slowly; while Jenna was certainly enjoying it, they didn't want to overwhelm her. They knew the sense of fullness she was experiencing, and knew how daunting and overstimulating it could be for one as tight as her. "Keep taking deep breaths for me, okay?" They stroked Julie's long dirty blonde hair with their free hand and looked into her gray eyes. "You're absolutely gorgeous, you know that?"
Genevieve squirmed, her bucking hips signaling Eshe to tap the sweet spot inside her more frequently. "Y-you're so sweet! I...I don't—
mmm
—I don't know what to say!"
"Your moans say plenty, pretty girl." Eshe leaned forward to maximize physical contact, and Jeanine eagerly pressed her large, pillowy breasts up against them. The tempo of their fingering only increased, their fingers pushing and pressing more insistently against the front wall of her ass. "You know what I love about shy girls like you? I get to see the exact moment when you
let go
." Eshe added a third finger, and the woman's moans doubled in volume while dropping an octave or two. Her back arched and her toes curled in preparation for climax, and Eshe was happy to provide, slipping their free hand between the pair's warm bodies to rapidly stroke Jasmine's cute little sex. A few seconds of that proved
more
than enough, and small droplets of cum leaked onto their hand as the young woman grabbed their back and squealed in release.
The barn was quiet for several minutes afterward. Whatsername stared at the knight in her arms with disbelief, while Eshe patiently waited until she recovered.
"I've never...not since..." she stammered out eventually as if it was all she'd come up with in the minutes of silence. "Not since the change."
Eshe nodded. "How long?"
"Three months." She looked away bashfully.
"My compliments to the sorcerer. They do excellent work," Eshe mumbled between kisses along her collarbone. Whatsername giggled.
"You're sure you don't mind?"
Eshe pulled away, offering a soothing smile upon witnessing fear in the girl's eyes. She was far too cute to have to carry such burdensome doubts. "Before Sol's light, we are naught but flesh and potential. When the two met in you, they created something spectacularly beautiful."
Jennifer—they were pretty sure it was Jennifer—burst into tears and pulled them in tighter for a hug.
Similar intimate confessions proved common over the course of Eshe's journey; apparently, Arlunn's citizens had few positive erotic experiences and found themselves opening up to the knight after their first. It was part of the fiction Eshe used to justify their continued delays. They weren't stopping constantly to satisfy their own urges—they were performing acts of
service
, providing those in need with uplifting sexual encounters. Sol's light shone where they walked, proving to the Arlunni that under the right circumstances, sex
could
be a divine act.
It was a bad excuse at best. At worst, it felt like cover for something darker. Eshe had a habit of using sex to relieve stress—they weren't unique in that regard—but they also tended to become more attentive and passionate in their lovemaking as the weight of their burdens grew. In times of turmoil, when the tides of history seemed to move regardless of what they did, uplifting another through intimacy allowed them to point to a positive change they'd impacted. Sex was a tiny little corner of the world under their control, and one better off for it. A noble goal, perhaps, but when they were under great strain every tavern and town square became a coital obligation, every bedroom a temple. Rather than offering relief, passion became yet another weight on their shoulders, one which paradoxically pushed them to seek more lovers still.
And their trip to Niol had put them under a great strain indeed. Despite their proper manners and carefully practiced speech, they'd been completely snubbed by the Queen. In response to the Order's pleas for aid, all she'd offered was a single phrase: 'I'm sure you'll figure something out.' No elaboration, no further detail. In fact, if it weren't for Veronica, their meeting probably would have lasted only a minute. Afterward there were no further attempts at communicating with them, no discussions with emissaries or ambassadors, and not even any formal introductions to important politicians. It had felt like a joke Eshe wasn't in on, and it drove them to...well, to the sheets.
Eventually, though, Eshe either rediscovered their willpower or ran out of taverns—they weren't sure which—and made it back to the woods where they knew the Order was waiting. The journey back took seven days. Seven days of plush beds, plusher women, good food, and light travel. Seven days of feeling they had failed and dreading what would happen once they delivered the Queen's response.
Eshe creeps along the edge of the forest, scanning the tree line for movement. Despite their careful approach, they found few Arlunni soldiers on the roads—a far cry from the near-siege they'd escaped two weeks ago. It doesn't take them long to find what they're looking for: Ahead, a figure clad in maroon slips between the birches and pines. Eshe dismounts, shuffling through their pack for a sun mirror to send a signal.
"Hey!" the scout calls out, ignoring the far subtler system of light-based signals in favor of yelling. Eshe sighs and closes their bag, then walks Gruch past bushes and ferns over to the voice. At least there aren't any Arlunni around to hear. "That you, Lieutenant? Ah, good to see you! We were worried you might have found trouble on the road."
"A few minor delays, nothing more," Eshe mumbles.
The scout—a young man with a dark complexion and shaved head whom Eshe doesn't recognize—nods and falls in step with the sun-knight, guiding them back toward the camp. "All's been quiet, Ser. The soldiers eased off a day or two after you left, and we've finally had breathing room to hunt and forage."
Eshe frowns, carefully stepping over a gnarled root. "What do you mean, 'eased off'?"
"No patrols, no raids, no nothing. They're even tearing down their eastern position, believe it or not. Whatever happened between you and the Queen must have got them real afeard."
Drops of molten dread pool in their stomach, sizzling away at their insides. Whatever made them back off, it certainly wasn't Eshe's public embarrassment in the palace. Something else was clearly afoot. Their earlier suspicions seem to be coming true, as larger forces and grander schemes loom overhead and threaten to sweep them away. Eshe squeezes their hand into a fist, focusing on the feel of the chain glove pressing into their palm.
It's not long before the hazy outline of the Order's camp appears in the distance, the blurry shapes slowly solidifying into tents, beasts of burden, and piles of equipment as they grow closer. The smell of waste is thankfully obscured by that of charred meat and the steady breeze running through the forest, and the occasional clatter of metal or hurried shout cuts into the quiet sounds of nature. It almost feels like home to Eshe—while this specific locale is a recent development, the swaths of maroon tents and temporary structures are all they've known for the past fifteen years. They turn to the scout.
"You mind taking Gruch to the stables for me?"
"Yes Ser Lieutenant Ser!" He grabs the steed's reins and walks them off to the western half of the camp while Eshe jogs across the clearing to the closest group of tents.
"Lieutenant! Yer back!"
"Ey, Ser Eshe! You're late!"
"Off gettin tail, no doubt!"
The shouts of their siblings-in-arms echo around them as they approach. Boorish yelling isn't the only indication the Order's troops are doing better—they see elaborate sun mirrors cooking freshly hunted roasts, and the camp watchmen playing a card game rather than staring out into the woods with sunken eyes. Above all, the tension permeating the air is gone, as if it was only a passing storm.
"Marsh, Brevoy, Ina. Glad to see your senses of decorum are still intact." Eshe grins at their fellows as they pass, working through the narrow aisles between tents and racks of equipment. The three are soldiers of the Order—more proven than the squires, but still lacking the religious and sorcerous training of the sun-knights proper. Said training also tended to...refine one's sensibilities somewhat. The Order had once only consisted of sun-knights, but over the years restrictions on membership had eased and rank and file soldiers had gone from a supplementary force to a majority.
"Decorum? Us? Sun, Lieutenant,
we're
not the ones off shagging nobility."
"I'd never be caught dead in a Lady, that's for certain."
"S'why Laviny sent Eshe and not you, moron! What'd ya
