Laura was lying awake in her sleeping bag. The night was pitch black darkness. That was because clouds had closed up the sky like curtains. Neither moon nor stars could be seen. She had always taken for granted the moon on Saturn Seven because it was so Earth-like and Earth had a moon that looked so very similar to this one. The fact that it was remarkable had not occurred to her before.

But then again so much was remarkable. She was digesting people, or close enough. She had a person, a young woman, trapped in her vagina, playing around as she lay. If she spread her legs her little toy would fight it's way out at some point. If she put her knees together there was no escaping. And if she crossed her legs, well, she discovered that she could have crushed her prisoner had she wanted to. She was playing around with different kinds of pressure and feeling the different kinds of reactions in turn. By now she was able to induce quite a panic with her little pussy and she made a mental note to quash a womaniser this way if she ever got hold of one. That would be funny.

Soon though, she had played the little Mad Lioness' strength to exhaustion. The Rondra priestess had spent all day in her panties, fighting sometimes more, sometimes less. The little thing didn't tire easily and had started to explore her possibilities of escape when ever she could. When Laura was walking she had held tight, but as soon as there was some calm she'd go squirming around, looking for an exit. In so doing she had once entered Laura's sex on her own accord but got trapped and smothered there when her host started walking again. She'd also gotten in between Laura's butt cheeks and tickled abominably there.

Sometimes the Priestess would get near the actual escape, the edge of Laura's panties and Laura would have to make an adjustment to her underpants to crush her captive nicely against her sex again. Making every second of the little woman's life a living hell was work, but she was still committed to it. She pushed a finger up inside herself and probed for the lifeless lump, getting it out and bringing it to her face.

It was too dark to see anything though, so she used her finger again. There was breathing, but no cursing, no angry shouting any more.

Laura smiled: “Did you enjoy today?”

No reaction. She started poking the woman on her hand with a finger. She was conscious, moaning and lifting a weak arm to protect herself. That was all Laura wanted.

“Tomorrow we'll continue.” She whispered. “Sleep now. You must get your strength back.”

Her socks were stuffed in her shoes so they wouldn't go missing. They were easy to find in the dark. She tied a knot in after dumping the priestess inside and stuffed it back into her shoe again, quite happy with herself. Yes, they had basically walked all day, she thought, but they had been doing that for a while before and she had gotten used to it. Without walking there was no fun to be had, unless she settled for some place to stay that had lots of little people that couldn't get away from her. Sooner or later such an opportunity would present itself again, she decided.

And that they had walked all day had made her socks smell rank again which served perfectly just now.

That day, they had eaten Horasian food twice, she thought queerly. It made her feel two ways. On the one hand the stuff was plentiful and convenient, especially if little ships were used to serve as bowls. On the other hand, it wasn't alive and not near as good as people either. So long as there was this war or that, she wasn't too worried but she feared that someday, somehow they'd only eat this pickled stuff day in and day out. The Horasians seemed to have so abominably much of it.

When she opened her eyes the next day, her face was wet. It was raining hard and rather cold. To her it was only a drizzle as usual and her sleeping bag was waterproof but the rain had forced all the tiny population indoors. She could see the farms, water cascading off their straw roofs, but no little peasants were without. Soldiers stood sentinel on the city walls, wrapped in leather cloaks and rivulets running down from their helmets of steel.

Laura yawned and went to get her clothes out of the wet. The drizzle wasn't enough to get them soaked but piled on the ground they had taken on the water from the puddles accumulating on the ground.

'Hardships of a soldier.' She thought, stuffing her socks, and thereby the priestess, into the pockets of her jeans and putting all her garb on the sleeping bag after getting rid of the puddles that had collected there. Then she slipped into her shoes, barefoot. This was more like being at a music festival than being a soldier, although she wouldn't dare cross the camping ground of a music festival naked.

This was different. She wasn't vulnerable here.

“Good morning.” Janna greeted her with a rather strained voice.

Laura found her squatting over one of the farms, shitting.

“Jesus Christ, don't you think you could do that a little further away?!” She flared. “And we're not supposed to destroy those!”

“Got the shits. Couldn't hold it.” Janna replied with a half amused and half painful face. “Gotta be all that fruit we ate after we only ate meat for so long.”

Laura took one brief, disgusted look and saw that it was true. It wasn't water Janna was shitting but not as solid as the whole affair should have been. That was also what saved the structural integrity of the probably occupied home she was taking a dump on. Her shit ran right off the roof, except in one small area where it had caved in. Janna could have done her business on any of fields around the little farmhouse but had simply chosen not to. It did not lack a certain comical element, had it not been so thoroughly disgusting.

Shaking her head, Laura went to the east side of Joborn to get a drink of water from the river. Next to her, in a collection of little houses that had not fit inside the city walls, people watched her from under straw roofs and through open door ways. She wondered if they were offended by her nakedness or just in terror of her. It felt good.

“Hey ho!” She greeted them amicably.

“Sorry I shat on your house. It was an emergency.” Janna apologized in the background and came over.

“Wash your ass in that other river!” Laura told her. “This one is for drinking.”

“Woah!” Janna laughed. “Okay! Someone got up on the wrong foot, huh?”

She went around the city to the north side were the bigger river was, the one in which the smaller one ended here.

Mornings had become routine in their relationship: a nature call, a splash of water to the face, a drink and then some washing if the water was sufficient. And then breakfast, only in this case they depended on the little people to provide it for them.

Goose prickles were on Laura's skin when she was done washing. It was getting cold. Yesterday it had been half so bad because they were on the move and clothed and it hadn't been raining. Now though, Laura hurried to get dressed but kept her socks in her pockets for now. She didn't know what would happen if anyone saw that she still had the priestess and she was hell-bent on keeping the little bitch for torture.

“Cold, huh.” Janna rubbed her shoulders with her hands. “Autumn's here. The leaves are falling fast.”

That was true, Laura recognized. She had seen them go yellow or brown before and already noticed some falling, but somehow there was still more green than she felt like should be there judging by the temperature.

“Not all trees though.” She said. “The Christmas trees are still green and many of the others too.”

Janna laughed, pulling on her panties: “Those are evergreens, Laura, spruces and firs, not Christmas trees.”

She amused herself at Laura's expense some more before noticing something else.

“That's odd though.” She said and walked to a tree that did not look like a Christmas tree at all but was still green.

She bent, grasped the trunk and tore it out, so to examine it better. Janna used to feel sorry for every little plant she stepped on, Laura remembered, but that had changed. The tree she held must have been ages old and she ripped it out just to look at it for a few seconds.

“So, either these stoneoaks lose their leaves a lot later than the other trees or they don't lose them at all. That would be a cool phenomenon!”

Not cool enough apparently however, because after stating that, she tossed away the tree and finished getting dressed. Then, she was at the point Laura was at. Nothing.

“Huh.” She said again in that energetic way she often had in the mornings. “We're supposed to be goddesses but here we are out in the rain and cold while these little shits sit inside when they should be serving us breakfast.”

She shook her head in disapproval while opening her sleeping bag so that it became a blanket again which she wrapped around her shoulders. Laura did the same. Even though she was gigantic the cold had seeped through her skin already during the night and she did not want her clothes to get drenched. A cold would be half so bad, she figured, but a flu was something else. But then again, she didn't even know if viruses could harm her as huge as she was and she never had so much as a runny nose since coming here, unless she had been crying.

“We are hungry!” Janna declared towards the city, knowing that every soul in there could hear her.

The really annoying part of the rain was that there was no sitting down while they waited. Janna occupied herself by cleaning the ships they had used for bowls the evening before. Little men had opened the tediously small barrels with axes and then poured the contents into the vessels. Sometimes the result was more mixed than was pleasurable for Laura's taste buds but it was possible that way finally to eat at something resembling a normal speed.

When Janna was done though and no one came from the city to feed them, she decided that they'd go over the farms and eat what ever animals they could find. Chickens were just too little and there were no horses to be had but some farms had enclosures where swine and even a few milk cows were kept. The rain had even washed them relatively clean, which was nice. The animals huddled together for warmth, then ran in terror only to be gathered up and mauled in between giant female teeth. It wasn't as good as people but it was food at least and only one farmer ever came out to complain.

That one man promptly got a Darwin award when Laura gathered him up and ate him together with his cow. Janna hadn't seen and she doubted that anyone else had and even then he was just another squirt without a name. Janna had shat on someone's home too, so the cat was out of the bag in terms of cruelty anyway. Somehow it often seemed to happen that way, like a slippery slope. Being nice was just too much of a hassle.

“Shoes all muddy again.” Janna complained.

Their feet were sinking into the mud more than usual and Laura feared that before long she would get water into her shoes. The sky did not foretell a change of weather either. When she looked to the road, wondering if it would support her weight better, she saw a tiny figure in black walking there. She would have almost overlooked it in the drizzle which would be the same for any little Nostians and Horasians looking on though too.

“Hey, down here!” The person called out, revealing himself as a man when she came close. “Don't step on me now!”

Janna was going back to the city so she wouldn't see this one disappearing either. She was safely out of earshot too.

“Too bad.” Laura whispered, her crushing sole hovering over the tiny man. “I have a mind to do just that.”

She had meant it as the last thing he would hear when suddenly he laughed.

“Oh, I think Furio would approve, Laura!”

She turned her foot to the side just to be mean to him a little longer before squashing him.

'Approve? No, disapprove!'

Surely she had misheard.

“Do you think knowing my name will save you?”

But he only laughed the louder: “I'm beyond saving I fear!”

The adorable self-deprecation was tuning her a little more sympathetic towards him but she was still going to squish him.

“Well, you got that part right. Why are you all in black, are you a Boron priest?”

Boron was the god of sleep and death and his priests wore black robes like this one.

“No!” He replied, shouting against the rain. “I'm a black wizard, a worker of evil!”

She found that both startling and genuinely funny. He was lying though, perhaps hoping that making her laugh would keep her from killing him.

“Interesting.” She smiled. “I kind a am a worker of evil myself, but even though we are colleagues I'm afraid I'll still gonna smush you.”

Her foot was over him again and she was going to do it but then she decided that he was fun and clever enough to spend time with until food was ready. Then he'd be mud, or she'd eat him, or something. She crouched and picked him up nonchalantly, huddling under her blanket for now to keep her hair from getting any wetter than it already was.

“Why are you out in this rain anyway and not inside like all the others?”

He stood on her palm boldly as if he owned it. It wasn't the first time Laura saw something like that but it was still rare enough to be impressive.

“I'm not inside because I'm outside.” The man in the black robes replied light-heartedly, removing his hood. “And I'm outside since I'm going some place. Joborn!”

He had a feminine face and was a scrawny, little bugger with a mob of mouse grey hair on his head. The confusion between his smooth features and old hair made it difficult to determine his age. His voice gave no indication either, neither low nor high for a man and very clear.

“Don't they kill black wizards at Joborn though?” She asked, playfully sceptical. “I mean, since you are a worker of evil and all.”

“Oh, I pass for a Boron priest well enough in their eyes.” He grinned. “I'm going after a man named Jindrich Welzelin. He came here some time ago. Ever heard of him?”

“No.” Laura shook her head. “Maybe I squished him too. I don't usually ask people's names before I step on them.”

The man on her hand still didn't pick up on the banter: “Oh, that would be bad. He's supposed to help me get my magic back so that I can do evil again.”

At that, Laura could do nothing but giggle.

“Do you have anyone in mind to be evil to? I mean, if I come by where they live I could just...you know.”

“I like to do my bad deeds myself, thank you.” He proclaimed. “And besides, it's really more about acquiring forbidden knowledge with us black mages. You know of course that the world isn't flat. But try to teach that to children and the Praios church will burn you. How will we ever fly around in starships like you when we can't even convince ourselves of such simple truths?”

Laura cocked her head: “Where did you hear that about the starship?”

He had said it like it was a normal word that existed in their language, which she was pretty sure it did not.

“I saw it.” He replied. “In my crystal ball, to keep it in terms you will understand. The thing used to make me able to see many things before it stopped working, shortly after all magic stopped working. You will find solace in it that your friends Christina and Steve were alive the last time I saw them. They were taken captive but treated well enough by the Andergastians. It looked however like the ogres were out looking for a place to go so you may wish to go back and see in on them.”

That was the final stroke. He knew Steve and Christina by name.

“What do you mean, taken captive?!” She asked in alarm.

She had sort of stopped to care about them so much but still didn't want anyone to harm them.

“The Andergastians came to kill you.” He explained. “You weren't there though, so they settled in your little village and got themselves trapped by wildlings while the main part of their army was trampled under the feet of Varg the Impaler and her ogresses.”

“You're lying.” Laura said, her head full of doubts and unfinished considerations. “We made mush out of the Andergastian army.”

“You made mush of an Andergastian army.” The tiny man corrected indifferently. “They raised a new one.”

Janna needed to hear this immediately. She stood up.

“Laura.” The man said. “I am not coming with you.”

The definitiveness in his voice made her angry: “Yes you are, squirt. Don't act like you can do anything about it. Since you seem to know all these things you should have known that I was going to take you after you told me about Steve and Christina.”

“But I told you everything I know.” He shrugged apologetically. “I'm of no more use to you.”

Now he was starting to unnerve her.

“If I believed that I'd squish you after all.”

He smiled: “I'm of no more use to you now, but I might be, the next time we meet, if that ever happens. My crystal ball is blind and I won't find out anything new while you keep me in your hand though.”

“So I should just...let you go?”

What he said made so much sense that she actually considered it.

“It might be that the ogres have captured your friends and learned of their worth from the Andergastians. In that case they would use them as hostages against you. I think that not unlikely, but how to solve that quagmire I do not know. That's all I have, really, you can squeeze me out like a lemon but it won't yield you any more sour juice.”

Laura chewed her lip, looking at the tiny man, that wizard or that priest or whatever he was.

“Actually,” he added with a visible realization, “if what I said is really the case I think I know the answer. That, I will only tell you however once you have delivered me to the gates. I've had a belly full of walking in this rain.”

Her stomach was in knots completely and the realization came that his hypothetical endangered the alliance with the Horasians if it turned out to be true. They were supposed to fight the little Barbie-sized ogresses next, surely, but that plan threatened to be turned on it's head.

To think that she almost oversaw the little man and had only come to squash him. If she had stepped down one moment earlier she would have never learned of any of this. That made her alarm bells shrill but on the other hand did this little, weird guy know so much that he had no business knowing.

“Laura!” Janna shouted over from the city. “Food's here!”

“Okay. I'll do it.” She whispered to the tiny man.

This seemed possibly too important to squander and if it was all bullshit in the end all she had lost was one guy she didn't squish. She could consider this an investment.

“Yes.” He agreed. “But please do not tell Furio about me. He'd keep me or torture me or have Janna murder me on the spot. Wait till I am safely inside the city before you say anything.”

Then he produced something from his black robes that looked like an hourglass. And he started whistling, like it was all none too much of a biggie. Laura wanted nothing more than to get it over with.

“Who's that?” Janna inquired when she came to the city.

The four little ships were being filled with food. The little Horasian officer was there, the one who had sounded like he had a stick up his ass the day before. Furio was there too, wearing a thick, brown leather coat with white robes beneath and on his head was that awfully ugly and medieval looking leather cap again.

She put down the tiny man with the grey hair and feminine face and he thanked her.

“Most gracious of you!” He called up and gestured around. “These men, all, are your answer!”

In her mind the penny dropped at once. If the ogres held Steve and Christina hostage Laura's and Janna's hands were bound unless they stopped or pretended to stop caring about them in which case they were likely to get killed. Tiny men, however, Horasian men who were skilled and had the means to kill ogres could possibly be able to attack and kill the ogres or infiltrate them somehow to get Steve and Christina free. Once she realized that, it seemed rather obvious.

“Till we meet again! And remember, Laura: memento mori!”

'Yeah, whatever.' She thought, giving him an awkward wave to see him off. His hourglass in his hand and whistling again he strutted straight past Furio and the officer and that little nondescript boy with the horrible face who was also there. No one made any effort to stop him and only gave him semi curious looks.

“Very kind,” Furio acknowledged after a moment, “to take the man out of the rain. Well done, Laura.”

“Who was that?” Janna asked once more, straining to look over the gates but apparently not finding him anywhere.

“A priest of Boron.” Furio explained. “You can identify them by their black robes and they often carry hourglasses like this one did. One of their duties is to bury the dead. Since we expect fighting here it might well be that the local priests require his assistance.”

“What does memento mori mean?” Laura asked, biting her lip.

“It is Bospharan, the language of the old empire.” The tiny mage explained. “It means 'remember that you will die' and is as likely an expression from Boron priests as you are ever like to get.”

Still it gave Laura the chills, somehow.

“Janna, we have to go back to the ship.” She said in English. “The Andergastians captured Steve and Christina and it might be that the Barbie dolls are going there. They might be in danger.”

Janna stopped slushing around Horasian gruel in her mouth to look at her in bewilderment.

“It's true.” Laura pushed on feverishly, skipping the behavioural parts in the middle where there'd be asked stupid questions. “The man you just saw, he told me all about it, he has seen it in his crystal ball and he knew about the spaceship and he mentioned Steve and Christina by name. He said it was likely that the ogres capture them and take them hostage if we don't get there quick enough. Imagine if they do! We're supposed to fight them, right? If they get them they can just say they'll murder them and we can do nothing!”

Janna swallowed, looking as though she tried to decide whether Laura looked ill.

“Okay...” She finally said, insecurely. “Uh...”

She was thinking and Laura had to give her time and face her scepticism, any objections she might raise. It was a lot to grapple with to be sure.

“War council.” She said then, very suddenly, taking Furio off the ground and snatching Graham up as well.

Then she took her food and went away from the city again. After finding a suitable spot sufficiently away from any ears she put the two baffled, tiny men onto the ground.

“Make me a map of here and Andergast.” She told Graham. “And I want it detailed.”

The boy swallowed for a moment, shrinking under her gaze before stacking Furio with a leather bag he was carrying and retrieving a single sheet with drawing on it. Then he went to work as he had done before, slushing through the mud with no regard for his apparel.

Furio on the other hand seemed to be disenfranchised by the fact that the lad had laden him with the bag and used his free hands to get mud spatters off his new clothing.

“We might have a situation.” Janna explained from above, crouching with a handful of gruel in her mouth.

Laura explained again, leaving out anything with regards to the tiny man in black robes.

“I understand you worry for your friends,” Furio finally allowed in a tone that made Laura want to snap his spine, “but this is nonsense. A wild hunch! The ogres are sitting straight across the river here, all the scouts we sent have said so.”

That grossly contradicted what Laura's informer had said, but then again he had only phrased it as a hypothetical. The ogres seemed like they looked for a place to go, he had said, and they might do this, that and everything else. Perhaps he had been wrong, perhaps the ogres had gone here instead or had been here all along and not moved after all. Still she was uncertain.

“In that case we're about to find out, aren't we?” Janna stated, looking at Graham's map that was oncoming but constantly dissolving again in the rain. “If they are there over that river I'd say it's likely that we will know before the sun is down, tops. I mean, how well could an army of giants possibly hide?”

“If they are still here they don't have Christina and Steve.” Laura said. “But you forget about the Andegrastians. They definitely have them.”

“Well, another reason to go to Andergast, I'd say.” Replied Janna. “If this is really a hostage situation, and so far we have basically no evidence of that, then yes, we might have a problem. But if we want to solve it anyhow we must first find out about it, right? I'd say we go after breakfast, and as soon as our little mud racer here has finished the map.”

Laura could live with that, but Furio cleared his throat to say something stupid again.

“We are not crossing the Ornib. This issue must stay between all of us, I beg you. We are to go south. This is a command we cannot fail to follow.”

“No.” Laura interrupted the startled silence that followed. “No, we are not. We are going to Andergast to see our friends save.”

The little annoying mage looked so torn in half that she almost felt sympathy for him.

“This is important though; this...” He hushed his voice. “This command comes from his Royal Magnficience the emperor Horasio the Third himself!”

Janna bit her lip and looked at Laura. The alliance with Horas was her idea, her baby, the future she envisioned. It was enough to leave her just as split as Furio.

“What would it mean if we don't follow it?” She asked, pointed at the tiny wizard.

He looked grave: “That, I do not dare ponder.”

“Fuck it.” Laura snapped, speaking English. “Look how small they are. They have no choice. We can go to Andergast and save Chris and Steve and then we can go south and do whatever stupid shit that king wants.”

“Emperor.” Janna corrected uncomfortably. “But, Laura, we have only the ramblings of some guy you picked up on the road to go about this and we endanger everything we've worked for. He probably made half of it up just so he wouldn't end up as your snack.”

“He knew about Steve and Christina and the Spaceship and everything!” Laura spat, cursing herself for letting the little man go.

She should have just shoved him into her pocket and shown him to Janna in private or something like that.

“If you are not going, then I am!”

“Fuck no, we're not splitting up again!” Now Janna was angry as well and the two little men below holding their ears in pain.

Laura was desperate. She racked her brains over a solution. Then it dawned upon her.

'These men all, are your solution.'

'Fuck I was so stupid to let that little fucker go.'

“Furio!” She flared at the tiny mage. “We need Horas to do something for us in return for our services. Nothing unreasonable, but something more than food.”

He listened patiently while the map was being finished behind his back.

“Your men will rescue our friends.” Laura explained. “They should be easy enough to identify. They're weirdos, don't speak the tongue. One is called Christina and is black, the other is named Steve and of white skin colour and they probably wear strange clothes. I don't care whether they were captured by ogres or Andergastians or not at all. You will get them here to safety. And if anything happens to them, I swear on all your stupid little gods, the ogres will be the least of Horas' problems.”

“Outsourcing. That might work.” Janna acknowledged in astonishment after a moment, speaking English.

“Oh yeah?!” Laura scoffed back. “That idea came from the little guy as well.”

On the muddy map Graham had created there was actual water flowing in the rivers this time, giving that part of it a very lifelike appearance even if the mountains were rounder than on previous times and needed mending constantly.

“Let's see.” Laura went on instructing Furio. “We know we were pretty much up north there and we saw mountains to our north as well. That's where your men should start looking. There's something that would look like a gigantic metal building to your eyes. Actually, I think your men would have to be blind or brainless to miss it.”

She pointed and he looked, stroking his beard all the while. His beard was the only thing about him she liked, but perhaps through this he'd be able to change her mind about him.

“None of that looks very far away from here.” Janna observed. “Graham, where's Salza?”

The lad went outside the map and placed a stone at that location.

“We covered all that ground in a day.” Janna went on. “Perhaps in one or two days we could find out what's what in Andergast and then do the emperor's bidding?”

As grateful as she was about that change of heart, Laura found it somewhat odd. Also that Janna had not belittled her as much as she had expected, and that the fact that they had originally agreed not to care so much about Steve and Christina any more had not come up once yet too. But that was all marginal. She herself had changed her mind somewhat too after all. There was something else though.

“Actually,” she said again, “I think it'd be best if we let the Horasians take care of this. If we show up in Andergast and there's a misunderstanding, Steve and Christina might get killed on the spot. You know how scary we are, even the ogres are little dolls to us.”

“And this might require quite a lot of subtlety.” Furio added thoughtfully.

Janna seemed to agree, shovelling a handful of disgustingly looking mashed food into her mouth and switching to English: “Too bad they wouldn't let us take our smartphones on the trip. I'd really like to snap a picture of this. Look at all the parts of Andergast we didn't get to. Good thing we got that little mapmaker though.”

She looked at Graham like he was property before shooing him off the map he was still rebuilding against the rain. Then she set her boot right in the middle of it and crushed it, as though she would squash the entirety of Andergast under her sole at once.

Laura stole a finger full of Janna's food and excused herself while Janna took Graham and Furio to return for the gate, the mage vowing that he would be making arrangements straight away and be back with word.

Alone again, Laura took out her sock that contained the tiny priestess.

“Let me out of this stinking sack at once you disgusting ogre!”

The Mad Lioness had slept and gotten her strength back it would seem, though her voice was dry and hoarse. Laura undid the knot and took her out, tossing her into a puddle of murky water on the ground.

“Hungry?” She asked the same way she would ask a dog.

She brought forth the mash that stuck to her index finger and dumped it right next to the priestess. The little woman looked like a lesbian at a renaissance fare with her short haircut and knightly dress. She also looked like she had spent some time in a gargantuan, wet vagina. Her eyes lingered on the food in the dirt and then on Laura, mistrusting. After a moment, there was no holding any more. She went for water first, drinking from the very puddle she sat in. Then she went for the food, eating like a starved animal; which, truth be told, she was now.

Meanwhile, above, Laura deposited her blanket on a collection of large trees, unbuttoned her jeans and pulled them over her shoes before putting them on the blanket. Then she squatted down and pushed her panties aside.

The tiny Mad Lioness looked up and saw the satisfied smile through in between her knees. Then Laura started pissing.

-

“With the two armies they lost is not much left there.” Brock's report started. “Some green boys who can barely hold a spear or hit a barn with the bow. I saw them have trouble drawing the long ones.”

“Good.” Varg replied to him. “How many?”

Brock had gotten back from the city of Andergast, just like Sly had said he would, to report of the defenders' strengths that Varg's army would encounter. The Steppe Foxes, a band of outlaws in her employ that had been sent foraging, returned as well, delivered a considerable amount of food and left again to do more foraging. With all they took besides that, from the possession of Lord Mannelig who had remarried after his widowing only to get himself crushed to death by his new wife, they were quite amply supplied again, perhaps better than ever before.

“Not as many as you can't bury by walking over them.” Brock answered. “The walls aren't in good repair either. Ugly queen hairless has nothing to bargain with.”

“Hairless? Can't be!” Badluck Robin, outlaw leader of the Thuran Brotherhood laughed. “She's a real beauty, our queen!”

“She'll be a squishy sack of meat when I'm done with her.” Varg snapped at him.

She had come to hate the little, insolent wretch's interruptions.

“Everyone in that city will be,” the tiny bowman in the green cloak reminded her, “if she puts a spear in every hand. I wouldn't put it past her to arm even women and children when she sees you. Who will you rule after ye squish them all? Ha, that'll be a dreary kingdom, eh. Just us!”

“There won't be any fighting.” She spat. “She'll give the city to me.”

“Do not listen to this worm, giant queen!” Gillax, Fjarninger shaman of the Frundengar Hammerfists declared with his usual, ominous voice. “When the wind blows you can hear it howling through the hollow cave that is in between his ears!”

He gestured with his arms and the bones which hung on his body rattled.

“Eh, my cave might be hollow, but Effine's ain't.” Robin retorted as he always did. “Why should she give you the city just 'cause ye ask for it?!”

“Because she'll believe she can stay queen.” Brock explained soberly. “We deliver her a fit husband too. The ogres turn out peaceful neighbours and she can go about getting pregnant and rebuilding the kingdom.”

“That cunt's barren.” The outlaw declared in response. “Or else she's too ugly to fuck. Aele had her for years on end and all he got was a bastard.”

“That queen's cunt does not interest me.” Varg looked down at him, considering a quick sidestep that would leave the Thuran Brotherhood without a leader. “She will marry Kraxl and then she is going to die.”

“Ya, ya, and then you'll marry Kraxl.” Robin shrugged. “Thing is, if she refuses, you'll kill her, and then what about your claim? If she doesn't come out to parley your big she-warriors might have to make minced meat of the city folk. What's left to rule then?”

“It won't come to that.” Brock countered. “Sly's in the city. He's got it all figured out.”

-

Andgergast sat at the fork of Andra and Ingval, the former river joining the latter here. It had four gates; the east gate which didn't seem to serve any conceivable purpose unless the harbour was overcrowded with ships, the north-eastern gate which had a dirt road towards the now flattened village of Andrafall, the north-western gate with no road at all and the all-important southern gate over the bridge.

That bridge was quite something. Made of solid stone it stood, high enough to allow most river galleys and ships to pass beneath without striking their masts. It was fortified to give archers a platform from which to defend the harbour against enemies landing in the city. The southern end of the bridge was defended by a fortress almost of the same magnitude as the King's Castle which stood at the north end. It was the south that was most important naturally. Down the road there was the Thuran Lake, or Thuran Sea as some called it. There were many villages and ultimately the Margraviate of Griffinsford, part of the Garethian Empire and the gate to a world of trade.

Andergast's export was almost exclusively stoneoak wood which grew here in whole forests rather than singular trees as they could be found elsewhere. Nonetheless, the quarter of woodworkers was the smallest one of the four quarters in the city. It was situated just north of the harbour. Then came the tailors, north of that, next to it the quarter of smiths and finally the quarter of tanners and furriers north of the King's Castle. In the middle of the four was the market square and that was Andergast already.

It paled in comparison to most other cities Dari had seen or heard of.

But nonetheless, she was in her element, if not only for the fact that she was in any city again as opposed to forest, village or gargantuan hands. She was also quite proud of herself for having survived it all. It had taken some help and Phexen luck, yes, but often she had been saved by her own wits as well, or she wouldn't be here.

But this city had an aptitude to crush anyone's spirit, she soon found.

“Please, young lady, some food, some coin to spare?”

Beggars were everywhere, shoving their bowls under the noses of those who still had means. Guards were too few to prevent it. Thievery was rampant too and was posed to get worse once food would become worth more than gold. Prostitution was another thing. Women sold what parts they had left sometimes for as much as a bite of bread for their children or themselves. Oft as not, this happened under the tormented gazes of their starving husbands. Towards the city walls where life was poorest and refugees had erected their temporary dwellings so as to have one less wall to build, children were on offer as well.

A well-fed man without a shirt stepped out of a tent, lacing up his britches.

“Ahh, nothing makes me feel more alive than fucking another man's wife up the arse.”

He flicked a copper to the haggard, tattered husband of the woman he had just defiled.

“Ha, don't look so sorry, fellow! Your wife's not half bad!? Grunts like a sow though when you put it in her cunt. Maybe I should try her mouth tomorrow. That's a better use for it. She kisses like a dog too.”

“Kissed many dogs, have you, ruffian?” Dari snapped, walking by.

She slapped him, straight across his face, and blood ran from his nose. She couldn't do else. The scrawny husband was balling his fists in silent anger, his eyes too full of suffering. The children were sitting, leaning against the stone wall of the city, the wall that protected them, that imprisoned them, the wall that made all this suffering so much worse.

Then she blinked and was still standing so many yards away and the ruffian was still grinning.

“Till tomorrow then. And tell her to swallow!”

He went unpunished, whistling happily. He didn't even make the effort of gathering his shirt. Maybe he'd retrieve it on the next time he came, after he spilled his seed into the mouth of this poor man's wife. And all for a copper that at this point hardly bought a hard heel of bread any more.

It woke memories of other things Dari had seen but she knew how to cast her heart in iron. She wasn't supposed to care. She couldn't.

'Varg will bend it straight.' Sly's words rang in her ears.

Even when that cunning old brigand was not sounding smart at the time he always ended up doing so in the end. The irony would only have amused the likes of demon worshippers. Varg the Impaler, saviour of Andergast. One time, while accompanying Sly, Dari had seen her fuck a slave girl to death. She'd sat atop the tiny, broken thing, grinding, very similar to the way Nagash had used Dari. That seemed the primary mode of using slaves for that purpose, next to having the slave perform the act with the mouth. With Varg there had been no holding back however, and her hips squeezed the life out of her little toy without mercy. Or perhaps death was some kind of mercy anyway. Dari did not envy those slaves for one second.

Pondering the pros and cons of starvation, ineptitude, slavery and downright evil was not her purpose however. She had time to spare and was looking for anything useful.

“You know, this city is real shit for setting up a criminal network.” She had told Sly on one occasion. “There are too many beggars and they are not professionals.”

“Professionals?” The lovely brigand had frowned. “They do do it for a living, I assume.”

“Yes, but they do it out of necessity.”

Back in Gareth, when she used to rule the underground, getting information was usually relatively easy. Beggars were a guild, secretly but just as effective as that of any other craft, and their master was an old wretched weasel called Waterlungs. Beggars saw much during the day, and what they deemed of interest they reported to him and he to Dari. Similarly, Cross-eyed Merry was queen of the whores, and what interesting items patrons of brothels spilled she would pick up on and report as well. Jack Knife, the barber, was Dari's man for substances and would, at her request, sometimes allow his merchandise to be sold for information.

In this city, such an elaborate criminal organization was impossible; the beggars too many, too poor and honest; the whores too many too, and too desperate and disorganized. Substances was still a very much controlled market, but too tiny to build upon. She had been able to determine where to find those certain substances that dulled the mind fiercer than any common drink. The first address, and not to her surprise, was an alchemist whose shop was put in the quarter of smiths. Cities often put smiths and alchemists together and preferred them secluded from other structures. The former were prone to cause fires, the latter explosions, unless they were of the variety that barely did anything other than boiling soap.

The nose-less alchemist Seffel Candlemaker was selling Rainbow Dust under the table out of his shop, a substance that was taken into the body through the nose and made the consumer feel godlike, fearless and impervious to any trouble and most pain for a very short time. The glittering powder of many colours also led to a rapid deterioration of the body, starting where it first entered.

The second address was a gatherer who sold herbs and mushrooms at the market place. Some of those mushrooms were the kind which some Thorwallers favoured, inducing a berserk-like rage, most useful in a brawl or prizefight.

The third address was the rancid tavern where she had murdered a man after he had given her information, back when she had first come to this city by help of Xardas. The inn-keep was a kind-hearted soul, she remembered. No one would ever suspect of the Boron Wine cellar she ran beneath her socially tolerated establishment. Dari could picture it, dimly lit and foul, men lying sprawled like corpses.

She saw the little Phexen glyphs on buildings, the tiny markings that only elaborate criminals could read. Some warned burglars of dogs, others informed professional beggars that the owner here was a niggard. There was some evidence of a criminal organization but it seemed to have collapsed on account of all the sudden competition from outside. There were at least three gangs who did shake downs and sold protection against thieves, but in order to do that they had to work as guardsmen, rather than collaborating with the thieves and making the money without effort. It was too primitive to rouse Dari's interest.

She had also looked after indications of Horasian spies, but that proved tiresome. All she had to go by where Horasian blood ties. Rahjácomo Finesmith had closed shop and fled to his ancestral homeland by ship at the first talk of giants and war. Mercantile man Hardo Bosvani, procurer of stoneoak wood in service with the trading house of Stoerrebrandt, had left with his wife Emilia and their two children in a carriage over the bridge and down south toward Griffinsford when late King Aele called the banners.

That left only one, the exile Thion Vardeen. What he had been exiled for, Dari had not been able to determine. It was odd though, that he would choose this place. And he had often complained about it too, when in his cups. She had told Sly about this and he had bribed some city guard to raid his home. They were knocking at his door now, halberds in hand. If he was a spy, he probably wasn't the only one, but there was no time for a more thorough investigation. One less ear of Horas in this city was a good thing. It could meant that word needed to travel somewhere else first ere the Horasians would pick up on it, buying them time.

Vardeen answered the knock with a curse on his lips. He was a short, grey old man with sacks beneath his wet eyes. His picture and demeanour stirred no sympathy.

“You are accused of treason!” The sergeant of guard informed him and he was promptly grabbed, thrown to the ground and beaten with the shafts of their spears.

Then they dragged him off, presumably to torture.

“If he confesses anything he'll be drawn and quartered, most like.” Sly said as he rejoined Dari's side, eating boiled eggs from a bowl that stank of vinegar. “Haven't seen that one in a while.”

Queen Effine was not short-handed with death sentences these days as the severed head of many a man could profess, impaled up on the city walls.

“And if he doesn't confess?” Dari asked with a glance.

Sly shrugged: “Then they'll forget to feed him. He can eat his fingers for all I care. Come.”

The guards had finished their brief search of Thion Vardeen's home and left, leaving the door open. A wooden flight of stairs was behind it, leading up to scant and devastated apartments. Vardeen had lived alone, and not like a lord either. The straw in his overturned bed was old and mouldy, the rushes in need of changing. It stank somewhat abominably.

“I told them to mess everything up as would be expected, but not take anything.” Sly said, looking through some empty, trampled parchments on the ground. “They might have taken valuables though.”

“He did have ink and parchment,” Dari replied, “though none I asked about him knew he could read and write.”

“See that thing?” Sly pointed at a waist-high cabinet that looked like a little wooden cage. “Pigeons. Messenger pigeons, or I'll be damned.”

Two or three birds were still inside upon closer inspection. That explained the smell.

“There's pigeon bones here as well.” Dari pointed to the ground. “Why would he eat his messenger pigeons?”

Sly picked up a tiny piece of writing from the ground: “Probably ran out of money. Do you know someone we can bribe to tell us what this says?”

“Give it here.”

Dari laughed and snatched the writing from his hand. It looked dirty and had been crumbled up.

“Gates still closed. Nothing new. Sent gold. Signed T.V.” She read. “He misspelled 'send', poor fool.”

He had probably noticed his mistake and written the message new, she guessed, tossing the old one away.

“Well, I'll be damned.” Sly grinned. “And you almost ended up as Trundle's arse cushion. Who taught you to read?”

“Taught myself.” She replied. “It's all just pictures that make sounds.”

“Well, I can't bloody well hear them.” The raider grumbled and got to his feet. “Come, let's go before anyone starts to loot this place. Take that sack over there and get the pigeons.”

“You didn't spend all our gold on those guards, did you?” She asked him, complying nonetheless. “I was hoping to have some chicken tonight, not pigeon.”

The raider smiled mischievously: “They're not for eating.”

-

Furio had slept surprisingly well and long. Too long. On account of the dark sky and heavy rainfall the morning had started late in any case. And so far, the whole day had been a calamity. Somehow, no one had thought to feed Janna and Laura before they had to ask. Neither did anyone wake Furio for that purpose. He had been roused to break his fast with the officers in the great hall and he remembered acknowledging that before turning around and falling right back into Boron's arms.

In the meantime, Janna and Laura had gotten that queer item of the hostage situation into their heads, as well as ransacking the farms outside the city for food. That could not be helped now.

“Master Furio.” Scalia greeted him when he entered the great hall again. “You will forgive us for having started without you.”

It was not a question. At the long table sat the Horasian officers and broke their fast on bread, porridge and bacon. It smelled fantastic.

“Here!” Major Marillio offered Furio the chair next to him.

Marillio sat next to Scalia who had taken the lord's seat at the head of the table. Then there was the free seat offered to Furio, next to a woman he did not know. Next to the other officers there were two younger women on the opposite side, sitting and eating quietly, eyes on their porridges.

“May I present,” Marillio gestured to the older woman, “the Lady Walpurga of Joborn.”

“Ah, the wizard!”

The lady was in her forties and stout. She wore a dress of light red with a white bodice and a white cloth wrapped around her head fastening some hat. Her mouth was small, her cheeks puffy, but her eyes were piercing and awake.

“You must forgive me.” She offered with a glance at General Scalia. “Since my husband is now a glorified caravan guard it seems it must be me to offer you our hospitality.”

“We are...most grateful for your lord husband's commitment, my lady.” Furio replied heavy-handedly. “My Lord General, might we have a...”

“Hai!” Someone had entered the hall behind Furio and marched straight past him, faster than wind.

It was Lee's son whom Furio had met at Salza. He walked up to General Scalia, slammed his heels together and bowed.

“My Lord General!”

He handed over a curled letter before he dared rise again. Scalia unrolled it, studying it as always without hinting at any of his thoughts.

“General Lee's eldest son died in battle.” He said slowly. “He wishes to observe the mandatory mourning period of two years.”

Feishan bowed again, waiting for a reply.

“Granted.” The general finally said, not without some gravity. “But seeing as he was your older brother, would you not have to mourn too?”

Such leniency was unheard of, or so Furio had believed.

“The mandatory mourning period is one year, my Lord General!” Feishan replied, full of youth and energy. “But it is my honourable father's wish that I stay and prove myself!”

Scalia fixed the lad with his eyes: “Granted as well. You may return to your duties.”

The Maraskan youth bowed again, reached into his leather bag and produced a stone-clay bottle, such as Lee was always encountered drinking from.

“It is my fathers wish that you have this gift, my Lord General!”

The old man took it, set it on the table and gave it a critical glance before turning his grey eyes back up again: “If not for this poison your father would be one of greatest tacticians alive. Tell him I will consider it desertion if he drinks himself to death in his mourning.”

“Hai!”

And with that, the young Maraskan turned on his heel and marched out of the hall, heels echoing.

“Sit.” The general addressed Furio again, gesturing to the seat next to Marillio. “You look like you have been rotting in a dungeon.”

“I...” Furio stammered, suddenly so horribly inapt at all this. “I think, I had best...”

“Eat.” The general interrupted him firmly. “The Thorwalsh are not going anywhere. You may break your fast before you go hunt them.”

That was a ruse, Furio understood at least, to keep the thing about Havena a secret.

'Thirty five thousand people.'

“Oh!” Lady Walpurga of Joborn exclaimed snidely. “Will the beasts come to our rescue then. Will they trample all the forest flat beneath their feet? It robs our uninvited guests of the roof over their heads, but where will my husband go hunt then, I ask you?”

“Perhaps he may find solace in fishing.” Scalia gestured again at the free seat.

“My Lord General, about a different matter,” Furio went on, “a quiet word?”

“Not trusting your allies, are you, wizard?” The lady fixed him with a stare that was eerily penetrating.

She wasn't unfriendly, quite the opposite. She seemed like a charming partner for a conversation but her wits were sharp as a knife and quite disarming and she was almost as disagreeable as Marillio.

“Leave us.”

Again, Scalia's words were not a question and it was a palpable demonstration of power to shoo the lady of the castle and her daughters from their own hall.

“Ha, military men!” Lady Walpurga rose, giving the old general a pitying look. “Can't even break your fast without manoeuvring. Come, my little hens. The sorry old cocks wish to brood in privacy.”

Marillio rose with them.

“My lady.” He offered amicably. “I was hoping to take your daughters for a walk later. They seemed to be enjoying themselves the last time.”

The elder of Walpurga's daughters was plainly fat and stupid looking. She wore a blue dress, fringed and embroidered with miniature pearls in the shape of stag beetles, Joborn's sigil. The younger one was beautiful, curly haired and shy with her eyes and smiles. Her dress was pink, embroidered with roses in a dark red. It was not clear about which of the two Marillio had aspirations. That would surely depend on whether there was a son in the picture, or if this castle could be inherited by marrying the fat girl.

Lady Walpurga's expression only got more pitiful however: “You know, for one who prides himself on always speaking truth, you lie to yourself a great deal.”

And then she left, dress swirling and daughters following timidly behind her. Scalia made a gesture and the officers left as well, all but Major Marillio.

“Well intentioned.” The general declared as soon as the door was shut. “Our hold on Nostria must strengthen. You, major, may, however, not live that long. You will replace General Lee, as a colonel.”

“Thank you, my Lord General.” Marillio replied thin-lipped, and looked much like he would rather have had the girl.

Furio would not have himself be asked for a third time and sat quickly, shovelling a few spoons of porridge into his mouth. It was enriched with ham, making it even more pleasant than he could have hoped for. He had just bitten in half a crisp piece of black bacon when he noticed the general looking at him.

“We might have a trouble.” He said hastily, swallowing hard and having to wash his mouth and beard with ale. “The giantesses have gotten an idea into their head. A fancy, nothing more, I believe. There are two persons of interest to them, back in Andergast. They believe they have been taken hostage by the Andergastian army, or perhaps by now the army of ogres.”

Scalia's face did not move an inch any which way but Marrilio blurted: “How did they find out that?!”

Almost, Furio would have missed the betraying grammar.

'How did they find that out' would have been the way to phrase it innocently, or any other possible way, but not quite like this.

“You knew?” He asked perplexed.

Scalia's face made no move. Perhaps this was him looking angry or scolding or any such. When he spoke he sounded undeterred however.

“There was a message, detailing this.”

He reached into his slashed, green doublet and produced a tiny scroll such as was usually bound to the feet of homing pigeons to deliver messages. This way was much faster than riders, even chains of messenger posts such as Horas maintained, and much safer and more inconspicuous besides. The logistical intricacies were more or less complicated, because the birds had to originate from the place where the message was to be sent to, always, without failure, finding their way back home, if they survived the journey.

Receiving the piece of parchment put Furio into a position closer to the Horasian intelligence machine as he had ever been before, and he winced to see that the grease on his fingers was staining it. He wiped his hands on his robes and unrolled the message.

“Q.E. caught Steeph and Kristina. Will kill them if giantesses enter. Hostages. Signed T.V.”

“Q.E.?” He asked, frowning, the parchment shaking in his hand.

“Queen Effine.” Scalia replied. “We were at a loss as to what the message meant. Now we know.”

“What will we do about this?” Furio asked before remembering that he already new. “We must send agents. The two must be freed!”

Scalia studied his porridge for a moment and then ate a spoonful.

“That's not the right question.” Marillio turned on his chair and pushed himself backwards to get a better look of Furio. “It was our intention to keep this secret until it was too late. Let the queen kill the hostages. They are nothing to us and do not serve any purpose dead other than enraging our giantesses against Andergast. And what of it, given that this queen seems paranoid enough to believe we're here for her rather than the ogres. The real question is, who told the giantesses.”

“It wasn't me.” Furio replied, struggling to make himself sound stern. “It could have happened on the road or in the night. If Queen Effine sent riders...”

“That does not matter now.” Scalia calmly fell into his word. “They know, or rather, they suspect. Keep it that way. Say we know nothing.”

“We will do our best to free these hostages, however.” Marillio added with as much confidence as though he spoke for the general himself. “And then they might be our hostages. Heh, guests, I mean.”

Scalia's attention was fixed on his porridge again and the conversation was very much over.

“I...uh, saw it in a dream.” Laura shrugged when Furio asked her where she had heard about that tale.

By then he and Graham were riding in a small river boat, tugged under Janna's arm and overspilling with casks and barrels of cured Horasian food stocks. He was still feigning to doubt the story but had vowed that Horas would do everything in it's power to get to the bottom of it.

'If Janna and Laura somehow end up in Andgerast however, then it may get out. And woe me then.'

He did not believe Laura's explanation for one second, but what was he to do about it? He was a bug to her, and if not for Janna there was no doubt in his mind that she would have gotten rid of him a while ago in some cruel way. Janna was still there, luckily, but he did not really feel like betting on Phex just now. The day had been complicated and troublesome enough already.

The deepest of deep Nostrian forest crunched under the two gargantuan set of feet. There was nothing here, no road, no farms, no villages, nothing to trample and abuse. Supposedly there were Thorwalsh somewhere in these woods but they would be able to hear the devastation from miles off or else they would go unnoticed in between trees and the weather.

The rain had lessened a bit, allowing conversation again, but just now it was once more getting stronger. The giantesses' hands were full with their possessions, the stone phallus, the lantern, the queer vision device, a giant piece of soap...

They were wrapped in their blankets, just like Furio and Graham were wrapped in heavy leather cloaks.

Above, black clouds hung so low that it almost looked like Janna might reach out and be able to touch them. A wind picked up too. The weather was getting even worse.

“I don't like this at all.” Janna stared anxiously into the sky. “Furio, do you think a thunderstorm is coming?”

“Rondra is the goddess of thunder as well! Have we done anything to displease her?”

He had to shout over the rain again and that cost him much strength. It often left his throat raw but it wouldn't do not to answer when one of the giantesses addressed him.

Laura looked genuinely afraid at that: “Do you think this is the Mad Lioness' work?”

Furio did not know why she would be afraid. At Thorwal, Laura had supposedly been struck by lighting but the only thing he had heard that did to her was make her hair fuzzy, like after pulling on a woollen shift. Both the giantesses' hair was still bound up in braids, though in some disrepair, so he saw nothing that they might have to be afraid of, and much less what the priestess might have to do with it. He had seen where she had gone the day before, right into Laura's undergarments and in between her legs, but surely by now she was squashed to porridge in some bodily imprint somewhere or passing through Laura's belly.

To his astonishment though, the mountainous beauty put down the things she carried, reached down into her britches and produced the young, fierce woman that had been so much unnecessary trouble. She was in dire shape. It looked like slime was covering every inch of her body.

Furio was of course no stranger to the female sexual organs. He had had lovers when he was younger and wilder, and he had spend that one, wonderful night with Rondria under his cloak. She had been wet down there, and soft and warm and it seemed to him that staying in there was the only real thing that mattered at that moment. On the other hand was he also no stranger to the fact that it must have been a horrible fate to be used there by these titanic young women. And they did it often, far as he could have said, just like the young people they looked like and where commonly most afflicted by such cravings.

The Mad Lioness crawled on Laura's hand, none of her pride and ferocity left. She was on all fourths, licking water off her tormentor's skin. Laura studied her as though she was some curious insect gathered by the wayside and then dismissed her.

“No, I don't think she'd be able to do that just now.”

Nonetheless she pinched the tiny insect by the leg, that same leg Janna had twisted and bent just a little too far, to keep the priestess from running off.

“Did you call a thunderstorm?”

“Laura, you're being ridiculous.” Janna scoffed and tried to cross her arms before her chest which did not work because of all the things she was carrying and produced some dangerous groaning from Furio and Graham's boat.

The Lioness screamed with pain, begging Laura to stop. It was astounding to see how this unhinged evil had broken someone so seemingly unbreakable in such a short time.

“I think it's just rain.” Laura declared confidently and went to shove her prisoner back down into her undergarments.

The priestess begged not to be put there again but she might as well have begged the rain to stop falling. Then they were walking once more and an argument broke out between the two moving mountains.

“Furio,” Laura finally told him what it was about, “Janna thinks if you move slower through the rain you get less wet. Isn't that stupid?”

He would have expected anything, but not that. He wished he could have shrugged, curled up into his cloak and brooded on some things for a while.

“What do you think?” He addressed Graham.

It was cruel to put this on the lad, but as a sword needed a wet stone and a mind needed books, so too did courage require tempering in order to develop. A cowardly scholar was condemned to forever to rely on the accounts of braver men and Furio would not like to see such a thing being said of his student.

But the map maker only shook his hanging face and vanished beneath cloak again.

“Graham thinks you are wrong, Janna!” Furio called. “I concur!”

“You all do not know what you are speaking off. This is well established.” Janna snapped back at him. “Where are we going anyway? What is there, south?”

“We are going to Havena!” Furio replied.

Janna reacted just like Furio had when Scalia told him, only she needed to remember what the place was first. She had received most of that knowledge from Rondria, so her remembrance served as a test as to how much the giantess had de facto cared about the acolyte that Furio had loved. She did not pass and Furio had to freshen up her memory with cues.

“And what are we doing there, at Horas only margraviate?” She finally asked.

At least, she had remembered that part.

“It is no longer!” He explained against the rain. “Havena has joined the kingdom of Albernia and thereby the Garethian Empire! We will destroy it!”

He could not bear stretching out that conversation so he skipped right to the conclusion that her questions would bring to light.

“Oh.” Janna made, sounding like she judged that an interesting prospect rather than an appalling and horrifying one. “How big is it? It's big right?”

Furio tried to answer but the words would not come out. Then he only stammered so softly that he could barely hear himself.

“Thirty five thousand people!” He finally screamed into the wind.

With the shaking from Janna's walk and the weather he might have convinced himself that he was sailing somewhere, captaining some ship. In the end it was all the same though, whether battle or butchery. Tens of thousands dead.

Janna made big eyes and told Laura of the good news. Predictably, the other grinned, eyes shining like a child's when told it was to receive a present.

“How long till we get there?” She asked eagerly.

The only thing missing was foam running from her mouth, but the rain would have washed that away anyhow.

“Judging by the time it took us to reach Joborn from Salza we should reach Nostria today!” He shouted. “Havena is not far! Noon tomorrow, I shall wager!”

It could be worse, he realized at that moment, and a great deal more that was worse. There were many things not taken into consideration yet. What was good was that Furio did not have family at Havena, or any that he knew of. If one of his blood had travelled to the city without his knowing and was still there they would likely perish with most of the rest. Janna and Laura would not know. People were hard to tell apart from one another after being squished to goo in any case, and whatever came out the other end after being eaten by one of the giantesses did not warrant any thinking about whatsoever.

As for people Furio knew, colleagues in study and comrades in the field, he could hardly name anyone just now. A certain Master Uialbanach had hosted Furio for supper while in Havena, but that had been a stiff and awkward affair, and if Furio were ask to pick the man out of a hundred to save him, he couldn't not, for the live of him, have remembered what the man looked like. Along with that acknowledgement came the realization that he did not have any real friends.

-

Lunch was a watery affair in the drizzle and a terribly slow one. Neither Furio nor Graham could well wield an axe and they were only two. They could not really hoist one of the larger barrels on their own either.

“Faster you little scrub, or I'll eat you!” Laura cursed the tiny mapmaker balancing on the pile of food stocks on the ship she had been carrying.

She picked up a cask and crunched it in her mouth, but only to let the food drool out and rain down on top of him, along with a fair amount of splinters.

“Don't scare him. He'll hurt himself.” Janna cautioned, not liking the way the scrawny little man handled himself with the one-handed battleaxe Furio had pressed into his hands.

She and Laura both had a belly-full of walking. They each had walked to Thorwal, then to the north, then south again to Salza, then to Joborn and now to here, wherever that was. But without walking they would never get anywhere, and so they had to be content with it.

“This one, Janna!” Furio informed when he had gotten another one opened for her.

She poured the contents into her mouth, tasting faintly of cabbage and mostly of vinegar, and had to wait for the next one that could only be one or two minutes away. Meanwhile her stomach complained gravely over being teased.

“This is a waste of time.” Laura declared, tossing away an empty food container of her own. “Graham, are there any villages on our way, or maybe close enough to reach them if we were to make a detour?”

The axe jumped off the wooden lid Graham was beating at, missed his knee by a hair's breadth and was let go, clattering amongst the cargo.

“There is!” He called up, crouching over a little map shortly after, a place he was obviously much more comfortable with. “If we meet the river we would find them easily!”

Laura looked angry: “Furio, if I tear that hanging sack of shit off his face, will that make his speech clearer? And what's he doing holding that map in the rain like that, it's gonna turn to mush, isn't it?”

“He said there are villages by a river we are going to meet.” Janna stepped in. “And the map is waxed. It's waterproof.”

“Good then.” Laura spat, stood up and started gathering her things. “We'll go there and eat the people!”

She gathered up the boat last, lifting it so fast that Graham fell down to where his axe had landed.

“They're likely burned out, just like all the others.” Janna reminded her but made haste to get moving as well.

Eating at this pace was pointless.

“And they are still Nostrians. It didn't look like they had so terribly many villages on that map earlier. It'll be really strange if all of them disappear next to our footsteps.”

“I don't care.” Laura replied. “If there's no one there then there isn't, but if there is they're gonna be my lunch.”

With that reasoning, Janna's mind was split. She believed in what she said but had to eat all the same. And what was another Nostrian village after all, if there were any people, which no one could reasonably expect at this point.

“We're doing a forced march.” Laura declared next. “It's gonna be shit but we will get to eat earlier that way. We're not going to Nostria first. Fuck that. We head directly to that haven thing and have ourselves a really awesome pick-nick.”

“That city is called Havena.” Janna said, having to play the adult again. “And I don't think we'll reach it today.”

She looked at Graham and Furio who were now in separate vessels for confirmation: “Can we?”

“We can walk through the night if we have to.” Laura did not wait for any of them. “We have the night vision thing and the lantern.”

“The night vision is out of batteries.” Janna reminded her, shoehorning English into the alien tongue for the word that did not exist yet in that language.

Furio and Graham were familiar with this kind of situation and knew better than to open their tiny little mouths. Laura was having that stubborn look on her face that she got when no amount of reasoning could sway her and since she could swat men like flies it was doubtlessly better to keep silent then, if one was little.

“The lantern then.” Laura said. “And even if we don't reach Havena today we'll be closer to it tomorrow morning than if we first go to stupid Nostria City.”

And Laura meant that. Not waiting for a reply, she turned and marched off like a berserker, leaving only up-rooted, smashed and trampled trees in her wake. They passed a lake a little while after and Graham shouted to Furio that that was a good thing.

Marching violently like that, on an empty belly, had been what Janna meant to avoid from now on, but she wouldn't break down before Laura would. It was well into the afternoon when they finally came upon that river. Janna had rescued Graham from Laura's ship in the meantime when he had become seasick on account of her carelessness and the two tiny men were reunited and navigating as best they could.

“This is the Urfarr!” Furio called up, next to the lad crouching over the map. “Follow it south and you will get to the Tommel! That would get us to Nostria if we are still going there! It isn't far!”

“Heard that, Laura?” Janna asked. “It isn't far to Nostria, he said.”

“There's still plenty of light.” Laura tugged a wet, rogue strand of hair behind her ear. “If we keep up this pace, maybe we can reach Havena today.”

“I'm tired, Laura.” Janna tried her luck.

She saw no need in rushing things like this. The Horasian people they sent after Steve and Christina would need days if not weeks to get any results, most likely, and she was worried that there would be nothing to do for her and Laura and in the meantime.

“There's supposed to be villages here, right?” Laura's eyes turned to Furio. “We can eat here and take a short rest, then we move on.”

She hadn't gotten rid of the small ship she carried, Janna had taken note, so maybe she still entertained the possibility of finding the villages deserted.

“There are two villages on this river!” Furio announced, all dutiful little servant. “Fiolbar and Elgor! If we are too far south, we will have missed the first one but the second sits where the rivers join, so you can't miss it!”

They were at the completely opposite side of Nostria, from Thorwal, so maybe there was something here, Janna thought and hoped. It would be very unkind to the people who lived there, but that was not really much of a concern to her when she was hungry.

They must have been south of Fiolbar because there were no villages at all until they came upon that larger river. Elgor sat at the north bank of the larger one, the Tommel, and perhaps a few hundred meters west from the other. It wasn't sandwiched in a niche like Janna had seen several villages be put before, but against the water there was equally no escape because it was so tiny.

“Psst!” Laura made, grinning and making the seemingly absurd attempt of sneaking up on the place.

The smaller river was less than a meter in width to Janna and she crossed it with one wide step. The Tommel was much larger. If she wanted to cross that one she'd have to make a considerable jump or get her feet wet. All in all, the village was just a collection of ten or a dozen straw-roofed houses, pens, stables, fences and what else medieval agriculture required. The fields were cropped clean bar for some pumpkin beds, the animals huddled together for warmth wherever they had to be outside in the rain. Smoke was rising low from the rooftops and not a soul was outside. The village seemed entirely untouched by the war, likely due to the geography. There was a road that she could see on this side of the river but that road, like the Tommel, led west to east and back and not anywhere near anything Thorwalsh. Perhaps Hjalmar Boyfucker and his ilk had simply not gotten this far yet.

“Master,” Graham said so softly on the boat that Janna had almost not heard it, “this village is in the wrong place!”

She turned her head to look and saw Furio lean over the map the young man was holding out.

“What do you mean?” The wizard asked, stroking his beard.

Graham pointed: “Here. It should be east of the smaller river, not west like this one.”

“A mistake, perhaps?” Furio replied, pondering. “It is a small place to be sure.”

“Yes, master, but if not...”

“Peekaboo!” Laura announced, crouching over the defenceless collection of houses.

It had worked, somehow. She had successfully sneaked up on the village without raising any alarms. The rain helped her a great deal, of course, but nonetheless. People stumbled out of their homes, some bearing whatever they had that resembled weapons, grabbed a hold of on the fly. They were struck dumb at the sight of Laura's grinning face in the rain.

“Allies or not, you're food now.” She informed them. “There is no escape.”

And there really wasn't. Laura was too big. She could easily reach to either side of the village with her arms and pick off runners. Boats there were plenty, little nut shells, some with fishing nets in them, but they would be too slow as well.

“Janna, if you don't come I'm starting without you.”

War had touched the village after all, she saw when she came closer. There were no fighting age males present, meaning that they had been called upon to go and fight. That made the remaining population even more helpless.

Laura reached for some woman and lifted her to her face. She didn't start yet, only basking in the terror of her victims. Then she pushed the woman into her mouth. Gasps, shrieks and cries followed from below and even more so when she let her struggling morsel escape from her lips just enough to trap her and suck her in again. Then she smiled and chewed.

Janna crouched down next to her, doing a quick count. There was an average of three per house, some more, some less, so they had thirty or forty tiny people between them, not nearly enough to get full. A full belly required a hundred, but here there had pigs to supplement, nice and fat by the looks of them. Janna had long since recognized the importance of acorns in pig farming. If there were oak trees nearby, the pigs were usually more plentiful and in very appetizing condition. Her mouth watered at the sight of all the living food.

There were lines from which to hang river fish to dry, she saw, so there would likely be stockpiles of that also.

“Bring us all the food you have stored away.” She said calmly. “Be quick about it, or we'll eat every last one of you.”

“Brilliant idea.” Laura acknowledged in English. “But we're still going to eat all of them.”

Janna smiled. It very much went without saying.

Laura started to chase some screamingly terrified pigs around with her hand, picking them off one by one before crunching them in between her teeth. Some fishwife looked like she had decided to make the attempt of swimming to safety and almost got herself a Darwin award when she went under in the current. Janna fished her out with her hand, looking down at the people who still only stared at up at her in horror.

“Bring us the food,” She said again, “or you'll all get eaten. We are giants. We eat people.”

To prove that, she ate the fishwife, tossing her into her mouth and swallowing her whole. That finally set things in motion down below. She even tasted slightly like fish smelled. Janna should have chewed her.

“Bring everything we have!” Some motherly woman commanded on the ground. “Fast! Fast! Leave nothing!”

People cried helplessly while they followed that advice but some boy tried to steal off, ducking under Laura's gaze, moving from cover to cover and once even cunningly using a running pig to cover more ground unseen. Laura saw him however, and he and his cover went into her maw together, mauled to shreds in an instant.

On a patch of grass people assembled their winter stores. There were ruff-spun sacks, some barrels, baskets of apples and pears and of dried, hard fish. These people would have laboured half a year for all this and now it would be consumed in one sitting by two gargantuan bullies. No one would starve, however, because those producers present at the scene would be digested right along with their produce. Janna felt quite good about herself.

“Get axes and open these barrels for us as well.” She said, turning behind herself and getting her small ship with Horasian supplies.

Adding that into the mix, she and Laura were suddenly sitting in front of a full meal with lots to choose from. That was good, their bodies needed the energy and calories dearly. Furio and Graham still sat on that ship, looking at the villagers with some interest.

“This is almost like old times.” Laura noted suddenly. “Remember when we used to do this all the time in Andgergast?”

Janna remembered. They had had some pretty good times there. The food was good, it turned out. A sack of meal was a sack of meal, and its mushy state on account of the rain did not help that, but the next sack she squished into her mouth contained peas, and the one after that some raw oats. The Horasian stuff was okay, but did not have this real earthy touch to it like this had, like the difference between real and fast food.

A woman with an axe came to see about the barrels on the ship and Furio and Graham started to roll off deck what they could.

“What is this village called, good woman?” Furio asked her in between swings.

She got the containers open much faster than the two little men had earlier.

“Doesn't have a name...milord.” She answered him insecurely.

Somehow, her voice sounded like the mooing of a cow to Janna.

The wizard and the mapmaker exchanged a look: “Is this not Elgor?”

The woman's axe crashed through another lid with fervour and she stopped to wipe rain from her brow and look at them.

“Elgor's downstream, milords.” She said blankly. “Way down. Two days at least, if you take a boat. Three, more like.”

“What is the closest city?” Furio inquired next.

Janna could tell that this was bad news. She had been wondering how they were navigating in any case, only with a map and no view of the sun whatsoever. It wasn't the first time this occurred and the last time, when they had come down from Thorwal, it had almost ended in a calamity.

“Why, it's Winhall, milords, upstream and on the Albernian side.” The woman pointed with a big, fleshy arm.

“We didn't follow the Urfarr, Master.” Graham conferred with his map. “We are here, at the river with no name.”

“How far off are we?” Janna asked from above.

The answer came grimly: “More than one hundred kilometres.”

“I swear we should eat these guys too.” Laura shook her head in disbelief, still chewing pigs. “Can't even read a fucking map.”

Graham jumped off the ship, entered an emptied pig pen and started digging in the shit covered ground with his hands.

“We meant to go here!” He pointed, placing a heap of filth for the village they thought this was until a moment ago. “But we are here.”

“I do not think it is a big trouble. There are other villages on the way and to you this is not a great distance!”

“How about you spend that distance in my shoe then.” Laura snapped. “Might help you remember how to navigate properly.”

Janna hadn't thought she would make due on the threat but she reached out for the little man anyway. Graham paled, swallowed and accepted his fate, but Janna wasn't going to. The little cartographer was too important.

“Don't hurt him, Laura. He isn't even a navigator and you know what a little softy he is. He wouldn't survive in there for a minute.”

“I want to punish him though.” Laura replied angrily.

The tiny, little worm with the hanging face shrunk down to something even tinier under her gaze.

“You've terrified him already. That's enough.” Janna declared. “Also...you heard that about the other city nearby, right?”

Laura pressed her lips together and nodded.

Janna didn't feel like she had to make it sound tasty but did it anyway: “Think about it. Albernia, that's a kingdom where we've never been. A completely untouched city full of new stuff we can play with. And when we go to Havena tomorrow there will be yet another city, and different too, since it used to be Horasian.”

“Awesome.” Laura's eyes gleamed.

Somehow, Thorwal, in certain places, had seemed to be much more populous than Nostria, which had been a great disappointment. This would make up for it. Janna sensed that they were closer again now, to civilization.

“Is this all we have?” The motherly woman from earlier could be heard on the ground. “Let us pray that it is enough!”

And the villagers sat and prayed. They prayed to Praios for leadership, to Rondra for protection, to Phex for luck. They prayed to Travia for their families and to Peraine for a bountiful crop of turnips and squash to replace what the giantesses had stolen from them. They prayed to Boron for the three that had been eaten, that he would guide their souls into his ponderous halls. And they prayed to Efferd for full nets of fish and to Firun for some likely game they might poach.

The amount of food was not to squander, but in the end that would help them as little as their prayers. Laura's and Janna's bellies were too huge and it was too easy to just pick someone up and eat them. It was a peculiar thing that these tiny people tasted even better than the edibles they produced as well.

“Aw, do you think we can get an alchemist or something to make Coca Cola for us?” Laura asked, regarding some big barrel in hand. “I really, really want some Coca Cola right now.”

“Homesick, huh?” Janna frowned, worried.

“Not really.” Laura shrugged. “Just for Coke. Do you know how to make it?”

She held the barrel in between her fingers and over her mouth. Then she just crushed it, like a little pill, the contents, ale by the looks of it, running down onto her pallet.

“Complete mystery to me.” Janna said. “For all I know they use it to make Dr. Pepper. You, however, are a genius. We should have done that from the beginning.”

“What? Oh!” Laura's eyes widened. “Now I feel like a complete idiot.”

The technique worked well for eating the canned food. They hadn't had any need for tiny, inapt men with axes after all, in this regard.

Janna ate seven pigs, eighteen baskets of dried fish, twenty one baskets of fruit, several dozen sacks each of grain, flour, peas, turnips and other vegetables, half of all the barrels on her ship, five casks of ale, a screaming oxen, a foal, three calves and a dog. The dog had suddenly run out of one of the houses and she had only eaten it because the barking was getting on her nerves. It tasted like a dog smelled however, so she regretted not simply squishing it. The girl that started crying uncontrollably afterwards she ate too, and that one tasted fantastic.

“Best for last.” She loomed over the remaining villagers. “Do you know what 'dessert' means?”

They did, as was readable on their faces. Their helplessness turned her on. They were her allies, theoretically, but she could do to them whatever she wanted. Had this been a game of chess she'd be the queen and they the pawns. Whereas she was the most powerful figure on the board, they were many and easy to sacrifice for her benefit. In truth she was much more powerful than even the queen in a chess game, she thought. The player, however, she was not, which bugged her somewhat but had no significant momentary importance.

“Imagine being a vegetarian.” Laura said, gathering five people that she pressed together with her fingers like popcorn before depositing them on her tongue. “That would be dumb, huh?”

Janna laughed and collected villagers on her hand before upending it into her mouth. They immediately started to crawl into every direction on her tongue, but with a single move they were all under her control again, screaming and begging for mercy. She closed her eyes and chewed them slowly, using her teeth to break and crush them one by one. Sometimes she'd grind the lower half of one tiny morsel into pulp to feel them crawl a little with their arms before she finished them.

Laura got the fat woman that had helped them with the barrels. Janna ate and squelched the motherly one that had given commands earlier. It was a matter of not more than three minutes and all villagers were in their guts. Then they went through the houses, daub and wattle constructions with straw roofs. They didn't stand a chance against Janna's hands. It was like ripping apart a downscaled model exposé at a museum, only that here sometimes there were still tiny living morsels to be found. Her fingers pushed over chairs and tables, destroyed beds with straw in them and crushed little cabinets so that the boards they were made up of fell apart.

“Oh, grampa is too old for war, huh.” Laura said when she uncovered an old, infirm man, sitting on a chair. “Enjoying retirement?”

He looked up at her with white, tearful eyes before her fingers picked him up and bent him over backwards until the back of his head met the back of his feet.

“Snapped like a twig.” She grinned and flicked him right into the river to drown.

Others, hiding here and there, they just threw into their mouths and ate without much consideration. There weren't many in any case. In the last house, Janna found another old man, this one with a bundle in his arms. She chose to leave him and rose.

“And another place wiped off the map.” Laura declared happily.

Then she trampled everything that was left, including the man Janna spared and anyone hidden too well to be found. It all crunched nicely under her sneakers and there was nothing but a wealth of splinters and straw left afterwards.

“Ah, I feel so much better.” She rubbed her belly with a hand. “And it stopped raining too. Let's go.”

It really had stopped raining, Janna realized. They used their blankets as sacks as before and poured what was left from Laura's ship onto Janna's before letting Furio and Graham climb on again. The empty ship, Laura sat down onto the river with a little push, watching the current take it downstream peacefully toward Nostria City.

“That is the wrong way!” Furio said after ten seconds of walking. “We need to go down stream, not up!”

“We're making a little detour.” Janna informed the minuscule wizard. “You can't complain. It was your misdirection that led us here.”

“What do you know about Winhall, Furio?” Laura asked, walking beside.

The tiny mage paled: “Er, next to nothing, other than that it is an Albernian city. Albernia, Janna! You cannot mean to do this. This would mean war!”

“Could mean war.” Janna corrected with a smile. “Havena is now Albernia's as well, isn't it. One or two big cities doesn't really seem to make that much of a difference. Graham, do you know anything about that place?”

The boy fearfully shook his head: “It is close to here, b-b-but on the other side of the river.”

Janna and Laura each tried the jump, the ship being placed meanwhile on the river for safety. It was hopelessly overladen and started drifting downstream with the current but was able to stay afloat on it's own. Laura jumped first, crashing into the opposite riverbank and splashing water all over her legs. Her feet came out drenched and muddy.

Janna fared even worse, only making two thirds of the big jump and going in up to her knees in water. She ended up having to pull off her boots and upend them, as well as going sock-less after that.

“We should plan our attack.” Laura mentioned as soon as that business was over. “I don't want anyone to escape.”

A first tiny farm came into view and peasants running their little lives.

“Ha, look, those are the first Albernians we're gonna smush.”

Albernian peasants did not look differently than Nostrian peasants from above. Laura stepped into their path and buried the first one under her foot, twisting it as though he were a cigarette. Then Janna came from behind, her soaking wet boot rolling over a group of four. The last two, both women in skirts, Laura stomped flat in quick succession.

“I love committing war crimes.” She said lightly, looking at the squashed, innocent bodies in the imprints of their feet.

The farmhouse was a little bit behind, strewn across the land after she had kicked it to smithereens with a single blow.

“It's hard to plan anything if we don't know what it looks like.” Janna said, picking up the initial topic as though they hadn't just murdered seven people in cold blood. “We don't even know if it's big or small or anything.”

Laura chewed on her tongue and seemed to have an idea. She popped the button on her jeans and reached into her panties, drawing out the Mad Lioness by her arm. The priestess looked like she could barely hold her head up any more.

“Here's the deal, squirt.” Laura regarded her coldly. “You'll tell us everything you know about Winhall. If you do that, I'll put you in my pocket for the rest of the day. If you don't, then I'm going to squish your leg. Do you understand?”

Perhaps to wake the woman or just out of sheer spite, she walked over to the river and dunked her in, holding her under until bubbles rose all around her.

“So?”

“Please!” The woman begged, spitting water. “The town belongs to house Fenwasian under Count Bragon! It is well defended towards the inland, but has no walls towards the river at all! There is a keep inside the walls by the market, but the real stronghold is Castle Conchobair on a hill to the south-east, half a mile away! Steward Saravil Hexen rules the town itself!”

“Town?” Laura frowned. “How many people live there?”

“More than a hundred dozen, that's all I know!”

“Rather small.” Laura screwed up her face. “One thousand two hundred, right? That would make it roughly as large as Joborn. Better than nothing I guess.”

Janna nodded, to some extent sealing the fate of more than one thousand people in doing so.

The Mad Lioness' sorrowful face uncoiled in horror: “Wa...what will you do with it?!”

“We're gonna play with it,” Laura grinned back, “until there is nothing left to play with.”

“Yi...you can't!” The priestess started screeching. “That is a holy place of Rondra! The Temple of the Sword King is there, you...”

Her protests were yet interrupted when Laura lazily shoved her back into her panties. Along with that, they got rid of everything that burdened them, the sacks and the ship, including Furio and Graham. Furio warned once again that they were making a grave mistake but they ignored him, too eager to play their games with something larger than a village again.

“So, how will we do it, bar the gates with sand and then stomp everything, or what?” Janna asked unconcerned.

“I don't know.” Laura replied, fastening the button on her jeans. “I guess that will work. What about that castle though.”

Janna shrugged: “I can sit on it. Worked well with castles so far.”

Laura smiled amicably but bit her lip: “A little fast for my taste. Why don't we show that count what girls do to cities when you make them three hundred feet tall.”

After that, the town was already in view, off in the distance. Janna couldn't wait to get there. They turned any farms and farmers they encountered into Jackson Pollock paintings anyway, but the big show was what got her all excited. Soon she spotted the castle as well, south of Winhall, on a hill, quite some distance away to the tiny people. It wasn't huge in diameter by it's appearance but otherwise quite a bulwark. The builders had set a massive block of rock and mortar on that hill, creating several stories, if it was hollow and occupied. Only then followed a courtyard and several massive square or round towers, making it different from other fortresses Janna had seen.

“Let's see how long we can go without revealing that we are going to kill them all.” Laura suggested suddenly.

“No!” Janna howled. “Not again!”

She had been rather looking forward to playing Godzilla in that town, but if Laura wanted to play her stupid friendly game first there could happen all manner of things to prevent that. They had been spotted a long way off in any case, and trumpets were blown to herald their coming. The walls would be crawling with bowmen, Janna suspected, and perhaps there would be a sally party to meet them out in the field. That gave her hope.

“Don't you want to know anything about the place before we flatten it?” Laura asked. “Like, why do they have a wall against their own kingdom but none toward Nostria?”

“There's the river.” Janna shrugged. “And Nostria has always been at war with Andergast so I guess they weren't a threat.”

“That makes sense.” Laura acknowledged. “But let's not rush things and enjoy ourselves a little, okay?”

Janna could live with that and lived out her Godzilla fantasy on some more unfortunate peasants in turn. Laura did the same, squelching them wherever they were running. Surely, if the townsfolk saw what they were doing, they'd now that these weren't friendly creatures coming at them. On the other hand, if Laura offered to parley they might all the more be inclined to talk, seeing as how they could be snuffed out like bugs.

Janna imagined what it might look like from the castle or the city walls. Some man stood there, holding a bow or a crossbow, and seeing two titanic young girls approach the town he needed to defend. As they came closer, they grew, way beyond anything imaginable. At first he had thought that his eyes were playing a trick on him, but with the realization that this was not the case came the unprecedented fear. Then he shat his pants, or at least in Janna's estimation he did. She made note in her head not to eat anyone from the walls.

Likely, he had family in that town, and he would fear that the gigantic goddesses would do to them what they did to any peasants on the way, trampling them to pulp in their wake. He must have realized though, that fleeing was the only hope to stay alive. He didn't stand a chance, he and his little bow or crossbow.

That judgement seemed very accurate, she saw when they came closer. There was a tumult on the walls. Banners, spears and halberds swayed as their beholders pushed and shoved to get away or stay. Bells rang in the background, like church bells and coming from many places at once. Her attention was divided between curiosity over the city and the fleeing, little peasants at her feet. She trampled their homesteads and squashed their bodies like they were nothing. And they were slow, here, out in the open. In deep forest it was possible to lose someone or make him seem eerily fast as he appeared and disappeared beneath the canopy of leaves. On the fields, squishing them was as easy as stomping grapes in a vat.

Laura counted the ones she squelched: Forty two! Forty three! Forty seven! Haha, run all you like, you little bugs! Fifty!”

Then they were too close to the city and Janna stopped to give it a more thorough inspection.

There really were no walls toward the river, but a wooden bridge with a house that bore a tower on the other side. Except for that bridge, it looked like the town had been built thinking that the world ended here and there was nothing beyond to worry about. She saw the keep too, which was really only a round stone drum of a tower, standing on the only paved ground she could see. The roads were hard dirt, largely framing collections of fields that were fringed with houses in turn. Thorwal City had been very different, bunched up, with little room not covered by buildings. She liked Winhall's layout much better. It seemed idyllic to some extent, like a suburb, and allowed for plenty of space to move and marvel before she'd start smashing everything.

On the walls, barely reaching the middle of Janna's shin, soldiers were in full on retreat by then, trampling over each other to get away. Albernians were cut from a very different cloth than Thorwalsh, clearly. She could see that there were three gates to the city, but only one, to the south, had doors and could be closed. So it was, but the open ones and the open bridge worried her. It was an escape route for anyone, and worse yet, it seemed to make so little sense that it was there. There wasn't even a gatehouse to guard it, only that house with the straw roof and the square tower. Neither did the town have any piers or docking spaces for cargo ships. All she could see were a few rowing boats, tugged ashore on the waterfront. Both gates by the river, one east, one west, were just open spaces in the wall, framed by two round towers with red, brick tile roofs.

“Fifty nine! Sixty!” Laura stomped off right toward the castle, running peasants bursting under her feet every now and then.

“What are we doing?” Janna asked for directions.

“Don't get your daughters in a bunch now! Sixty four!” Laura shouted at a tiny man after flattening the four females he was with.

He became her sixty fifth a moment later and Janna realized that there wouldn't be an answer. She looked again on the town, the banners slowly but steadily vanishing off the battlements, bells ringing the horror she was to bring. Winhall's colours, apparently, showed a black raven with spread wings perched atop a black wall on a silver field.

There were different banners present as well, but smaller and hoisted at secondary position, if at all. One showed three silver crows on a dark blue field, another was black and yellow and bore a strange device of which she couldn't have said what it was. On a singular huge flag was another sigil, more complicated and refined than the others, seeming eerily important. It showed two dancing, red foxes framing a blue shield with a red monster in front of a golden disk. A huge crown was atop that shield and the monster looked half eagle, half lion, or something like that with wings and a beak but four legs, claws and a tail.

It was all a bit too much heraldry to waste her time with now.

“Eighty one! Eighty two!” Laura was stomping away, either hunting peasants or seriously going to that castle first.

Janna wasn't sure if she was meant to follow. She decided against it and moved forward instead, settling her right foot on three more fleeing peasants. She felt the hint of resistance before they collapsed and so too was it on the walls. Commands and encouragement were being screamed and shouted to no avail. The bells were too loud in any case. Bows loosed, but all missed in spite of her immensity. Crossbows thrummed way too early, the quarrels hitting only earth and the marksmen throwing their cumbersome weapons down the wall and fleeing.

She realized that they had nothing they could do against her, other than run away. And for that purpose the town still presented plenty of opportunity. There weren't particularly many soldiers present either. So she moved, settling the heel of her boot on one man who was so desperate to get away from her that he had been crawling. Singular arrows greeted her, some bold men still left at their posts but they never did any harm. Two more steps and she was at the wall, the opening between the towers beside her.

She had to block it somehow. The towers stood, tall and imposing to tiny people perhaps, but not to her. She reached for the one closest to her and pushed it. It didn't go right away, so she increased the amount of force until it gave in. Once the foundation crumbled the rest followed suit in a cascade of falling brick. She pulled down the other tower as well, creating a wall of rubble. Anyone who had been still atop or inside was buried, crushed to death by their own fortifications.

On the other side of the road stood a collection of rather huge buildings and on the road in front of that soldiers ran for the bridge. It was now or never. Janna's next step took her over the wall and inside the town, shrieks of mayhem accompanying her as she went. By the river the city was widest, ten meters across at her scale. The bridge was in the middle.

“Gods, no!” Men exclaimed, stopping in their tracks when her boots suddenly filled their vision, crunching their brothers in arms like twigs on the ground.

Janna loved it. Four huge steps and she was at the bridge and putting a foot on. It didn't look old or very new, or very cunningly crafted. It was straight and rather low, clearly not allowing for any ship to pass beneath it, the only mildly impressive feat being the long wooden pillars it rested on. She gave it some weight and heard it creaking, then a kick and the bridge was no more, sinking where her foot had trodden it down and washing away with the current. She couldn't see anyone that had escaped to the other side yet, only four men with spears at the house on the opposite side of the river, wearing blue surcoats. Atop the tower there, she could see the white flatfish on blue, the sigil of Nostria. It was a toll house.

The road to the other open gate was empty but she took it anyway to close that route as well. Of soldiers she encountered only a sentry there, shooting arrows at her foot. She rammed her boot into the bottom of his tower, making it collapse straight across the path she meant to block. The other tower followed and it was done.

At the north-eastern most corner of the doomed town, she turned. View of the roads was largely blocked by houses with their timber roofs. Some few roofs were tiled, others straw; then she saw yet other special buildings, magnificent to behold. To her left in a field of green grass, a huge, white church stood with gilded ornaments at it's roof. That was were the bells were loudest too, still ringing terror and showing no sign of stopping. Further on she could see other temples with more bells and a massive building at the market place that looked like the shabby medieval version of a grand hotel.

Laura was well away, she was alone now, and yet again unsure what to do. Over the market place she could see running men and riders hurry, down toward the southern gate. So, she went again, striding on her long legs along the town walls. She didn't step on buildings yet. People, she would have crushed, only none were foolish enough to present themselves in front of her. She wasn't really hunting for them yet either. Most soldiers on the road had survived her passing over them, and those who had died had only been because Janna had to put her huge feet somewhere.

Had she wanted she could have trampled everything here in about five minutes, but that would rob her and Laura of the finer pleasures that came with absolute power and no accountability.

There was a row of homes between the road and the walls then and Janna stepped right in, crunching the feeble structures under her feet. That sent those from the neighbouring houses on which she didn't step into panic. They fled outside and looked up at her. She took a sidestep to flatten a lanky man in a leather apron but left it at that for now. Laura had been right. They should enjoy themselves.

Archers had gathered at top of the stone tower keep and loosed a volley at her face. That was their most cunning move so far, pathetic result or no. She flinched when one hit her eye, but with a single blink it was all good again. The shafts had the dimensions of short, thin hairs to her and only carried enough force to irritate.

“Open up! Let us out!” Riders at the southern gates shouted.

They were slightly more than a handful, two dozen perhaps, and when they saw her coming for them they stopped arguing and rode away north-west. The general populace had gotten wind of the full on retreat of their defenders and made haste to get away as well. Some had hauled carts onto the road, loading them so as not having to start their new lives without any possessions. Janna stepped over and outside the walls, went up to the gate and dug her boot into the ground. There was some arrow and quarrel fire there, but sparse enough to ignore.

The gatehouse was solid stone, one set of huge, wooden doors with iron studs on either side.

A small hill of earth blocked the gate from the outside, then she went inside, crushed a house flat under her sole and used the rubble to block that way as well. If both gates could swing inside the gatehouse her work would be for nothing however. The roof was a wood frame, tiled with grey-blue slate. If she stepped right into it she would create rubble as before, but the gate doors might fall out and a new way be created that way. Luckily, there were towers here too, slightly larger even than at the entrances but without the red tile roofs.

They gave way just as easily when she pushed them, and the stones smashed through the roof of the gatehouse without obliterating it's structure, filling out the space between the gates nicely.

“You are trapped in here with me!” She told the town beneath her, feeling like a god or some demon, and the bells from the temples answered her.

This was better than Godzilla. Godzilla couldn't talk, far as she remembered that remake of a remake of a remake of that movie she had once seen. It could only howl and screech, not taunt it's hapless victims like she could.

The people were not as trapped as she had hoped though, she saw. Where she had entered and closed the way with rubble, people were climbing desperately to get out. On the north-eastern corner she could see the same thing, and ladders were being hauled upon the walls in at least three places so that people could climb down on the other side.

Janna was gigantic, huge, heavy and powerful, yes. But she could not be in multiple places at once, and the people trying to get out were many individuals. She saw no hint of one thousand two hundred however, meaning there would likely still be many hiding in the comforts of their homes. The keep might contain a good deal of them as well, she reasoned. She had passed inside the walls, so it was natural for the townsfolk to seek shelter there.

Laura would have gone for the ladders first because it was her habit to get the small problems out of the way before tackling the big ones. Janna was the other way around, tackling problems head on. There were more people at the north-western corner so she went there first. The muddy roads squished under her boots, leaving imprints and every now and then the red splotch remains of someone too slow to get out of the way.

The fields that seemed like the backyards of the rows of houses were divided by low stone walls, as was many times the case outside the city. She found that people started to gather there and stare at her horrified or running away when she came. The town was small to her however, and that served to her advantage.

“You're not getting out!” She shouted at the climbers and those just about to start.

The crowd dispersed, all running madly, but the climbers were trapped and cleft in twain over moving on or retreating. She wiped them off the rocks and pieces of tower with her hand, flinging them down toward the soft, wet ground. Then she stepped onto them, feeling them squish beneath her, turning the mud red with blood and then pink when her foot left and the water she had squeezed out came rushing back.

Some just howled in terror when her boots came for them. Others begged. The Albernian townsfolk looked differently from the Nostrians she'd seen. The cut of their garb was roughly comparable but not quite the same, serving for a hint of freshness when crushing them to paste. When the situation at the north-western gate was resolved she went to the north-eastern one. There were fewer people and some cunning ones were already fleeing after having observed her doings on the other side of the town. Those who could were long gone before she arrived, the others, just climbing from the last few clumps of rubble, met with her feet and died.

Already three climbers had been mad enough to make another attempt at the side she had cleared before but the psychological effect of her presence a moment ago was still holding back most others. Now Janna dealt with the ladders, walking along the wall again to the first one just as it was lowered to the ground. The would-be escapees shrieked, abandoned their plan and ran, but not so fast as to prevent her from sweeping several of them off the walls. They landed on the dirt road, injured, broken or dead, and she trampled them flat.

The ladder she just tipped over, letting it fall out of reach of any tiny hands.

The next one was already in place and the first man on the ground outside the walls.

“What do you think you're doing?” She asked him, wrinkling her brow. “Don't you know that I squish anyone who dares to leave?”

One step and she was over the wall and one again and he was beneath her shoe.

“No!” He screamed, raising his tiny little arms as though he had any chance of stopping her godlike weight from descending.

Had he said anything more intelligent, perhaps Janna might have let him climb back up, but not like this. She stepped down and caked him into the dirt beneath her shoe, along with all else that clung there. Her sole caught the bottom of the ladder with three more men on it. It bent dangerously for one moment before it toppled onto and over the toe of her boot. The brown leather stopped the fall of the three people somewhat, sparing them from worst of injuries. Two of them remained on it and she entertained the idea of lopping them away.

She had a better one though: “Are you leaving too?”

She shook them off and lifted her foot over them. The one who had not been on her shoe after he rolled off started to run, foolishly thinking that she was occupied with the others. She lowered her foot on him a moment later, catching him just near the edge of her sole. When she let her weight settle his tiny body almost exploded, guts and blood spurting out at the side. That spectacle was to serve as motivation for the others.

“Are you?”

One man clearly started begging or reasoning or something but Janna couldn't hear him over the bellowing of the bells. That annoyed her and she was just going to snuff out the one who wasn't talking, a soldier, when suddenly he rose and hurried to his feet.

Never wasting a glance on her, the tiny man took the huge, long ladder and lifted it, huffing and puffing but succeeding all the same. She watched him, curious enough not to squish him just yet while the other was still arguing with the bells.

Janna judged the cunning one a solider because he wore a chain mail shirt under a quartered black and white surcoat. He had had a kettle helm that looked like a fancy dish bowl but lost it when the ladder fell. Before climbing the ladder that he had re-erected he somehow remembered to go back and pick up his helm, setting it on his head and only then making back up the wall and inside the city.

“Oh, you weren't leaving!” Janna giggled, genuinely amused. “You just dropped your helm! Nothing wrong with that.”

She let him go. The other wanted to follow without amusing her first and she couldn't let that stand however.

He wore a light blue tunic, fringed with thread of gold, black pants and brown boots. His hair was brown and fashioned horribly medieval, reaching to his bearded jaw and then half way around his head. In Janna's day and age there were only two kinds of people with that haircut; French top models of the most grotesque variety and dorks who only lived for the ever reappearing renaissance fairs.

“Not so fast.”

He froze and cringed, looking up at her like a guilty little dog. His lips moved but for the life of her she couldn't hear what he was saying.

“Stop with the bell-ringing or I'll ring your fifty times damned bells for you, you little rats!” She screamed.

The bells didn't heed her though. Perhaps the ones who were ringing them couldn't even hear her, tugging at a line, no doubt, to make the huge metal corpuses swing.

“Excuse me, little sir.” She told the man with the exceedingly ugly haircut. “It seems I must pancake some priests.”

So, she moved her foot, tipped over the ladder and gave the man a taste of her thirteen thousand odd tons.

The huge church-like building was closest, so she went there first. It had the loudest and most annoying bells anyway. The building consisted of a great, white dome with three smaller additions that happened to make it seem so much like a Gothic church with it's cross-shaped outline. Like church towers stood two slender white erections at the other side. They could be reached from the crown of the dome, where the first bell was, via a bridge. Each tower contained another bell, ringing deafeningly.

This was a temple of Praios, she noted at once. Snow white banners hung from many high places, displaying a golden sun. She could see the bells too, hanging in pagoda-like structures, open to the world so not to lose any of that horrible clanger. A tiny man in a white robe was standing in each with a rope in his hand, swinging up and down.

“Fucking hell!” Janna cursed, reaching for the first one atop the dome.

The tip of the structure reached just above her hips, huge, but the pagoda-like thing was flimsy and tiny. She closed her fist around and it and crushed it with glee along with the young man inside. It felt strange, crushing a mortar and stone structure like that to dust. Almost like wet and dried sugar. When she opened her fist she found the mangled remains of the young acolyte smushed into the crumbled remains of the bell. The bell itself was hard and cold but moulded under the pressure of her touch like clay.

She looked up at the towers, seeing the tiny specks of white, terrified eyes on white faces stuck on white robes under many coloured hair Her fist did for the first tower, smashing the top off with a single blow and turning it into a rain of dust and debris. When the other bell-ringer saw that, he jumped out and down to his death at once. Finally she felt like she could hear her own thoughts again.

“Be gone, demon!” Somebody screamed at her feet.

A queer scene presented itself that had entirely escaped her earlier. One priest in better white robes was half crouching, brandishing a metal sceptre and screeching at her. Better robes in this case meant that whereas the ones in the towers had worn plain white ones of ruff-spun with cords for belts this man's were fine, fringed and embroidered with gold. Behind him were four others cloaked in varying degrees of finery, hands up their sleeves and chanting nonsense.

When first passing a glance at the building, Janna had expected this to be the Rondra temple the Mad Lioness had spoken of. She remembered what a wild animal the young woman had been before receiving some of Laura's treatment, and wondered if somehow she would encounter something of the same here, something of similar ferocity. Perhaps it was, she thought, though this priest was much older, wrinkled and almost hairless but beardless too.

“I'm not a demon, you little idiot.” She crouched over him. “I'm a giant. Your prayers and rituals won't help you.”

“Down to the Nether Hells with you, creature of darkness!” He screamed, never heeding her words. “Be gone! This sphere is for the living! Praios smite you!”

It wasn't the first time she heard of the Nether Hells but the concept appeared much less prevalent here than she would have expected for a medieval society. Also, these hells were not supposed to be hot and burning but rather places of eternally biting frost. That made much more sense at least, in some regards.

“I am living though.” She said, disenfranchised.

Compared to the Lioness, this was a colossal disappointment and a waste of time too, keeping Janna from killing people that were more fun.

“Last chance. Entertain me. Tell me your name and what you do.” She offered, rising over the priests.

“Be gone!”

Janna crushed them all in one small step and without even looking before moving on. The ringing wasn't so bad any more since the other temples were much smaller. She wondered where the hall of that Sword King was though, but couldn't really decide judging by what she saw. There was a dark grey marble building in the distance with a huge, black wheel on it that clearly belonged to Boron. Then there was a light brown temple with a tower and V-shaped wings, another white marble something of almost the same shape and a some white-golden block with a rounded roof on it.

Much like heraldry, temples and gods seemed too manifold to grasp fully without memorizing.

She looked to the gates instead and saw the climbers still moving there and on the other side of the town was that last ladder as well. Suddenly the whole thing started to feel rather like work. She wouldn't be able to enjoy herself if she had to run around all the time preventing leakage from what was supposed to be her playground full of toys. Perhaps Laura had been right, she thought. Perhaps playing friendly in the beginning was much easier.

“Everyone who tries to flee gets squished!” She shouted angrily, stomping carelessly over houses from one site to the next.

At the last ladder she had to move outside the walls again and catch the runners. She trampled the ones close by the ladder and picked up the others by hand, gathering them before throwing them into her mouth and chewing openly for all the people to see. It was the same at the north-western pile of rocks that had been the gate there. She came, she squashed and the ones who hadn't climbed yet ran again, probably only to try again later.

Back inside the walls she started massacring the whole lot of them, more than fifty people. She didn't care where her feet landed any longer and just stomped, stomped and stomped them all to a bloody mess. If she saw one enter one of the big houses there she trampled it down altogether. When she was done, the whole set of big buildings was nothing but smashed rubble and orange dust, the cloud settling eerily on the road that swam in blood, guts, squelched flesh and broken bits of bone.

“I've had it!” She shouted, flaring her nostrils and stemming her fists onto her hips. “Anyone who tries to get out of town is going to die! That means you next, over there at the eastern gate! Do you hear me?!”

To her massive astonishment, they did, stopping in their tracks and rearing their tiny heads at her. Then, slowly, timidly but ever quicker, they came back, crawling backwards down the slope of rubble. The bells had stopped as well, she noted, and when she looked to the keep where before there had been the silvery flag with that black raven atop his wall a ragged white banner was now snapping in the wind.

She had won.

-

Men, women, children and the odd farm animal squished beneath Laura's sneakers. She had lost her count at one hundred and seventeen to a particularly fertile family clan of Mormon proportions. They had lived in a big house, timber, clay and straw but with two stories and U-shaped like some mansion villa. Of barns there had been three, or at least three other buildings made entirely of wood. The structures were all levelled now and every last member of that enormous family flat as stamps in her footprints.

The more she moved away from Winhall the fewer the peasants became again. They had had more time to run away or hide and did not settle near as near to each other as by the town walls. Laura was perfectly willing to leave the town to Janna for now. Surely she wouldn't use up all one thousand two hundred people before Conchobair Castle was done and dealt with.

The fortress was everything that name entailed. It was massive, it's highest point reaching up to her chest. The bottom looked like a white stone block that even she would have trouble carrying. Atop was normal castle stuff, towers, walls and a bergfried which was the biggest tower and the last retreat in case of enemies breaking in. Judging by the arrow slits the lower part that looked like a brick was hollow, but then she saw that a tunnel led up from a lower gatehouse to allow riders to enter and leave.

A black flag was on every tower and the gate, with two crossed yellow daggers or swords on it. The soldiers on the walls she could soon see wore black surcoats, some with the same sigil.

Smoke rose from some places and equally smoking kettles were hoisted up and placed into wooden devices that allowed for tipping them down and release whatever horrible thing boiled inside. It wouldn't do them any good against Laura, but she understood that the castle was armed and ready for a fight. The air had the scent of a freshly tarred road somehow, meaning they were likely boiling pitch.

She came on with the gate tunnel facing her, from way of Winhall. The entrance was closed by a cruel mesh of rusty iron bars with pointy tips at the bottom but that equally served little purpose against her because had she wanted to she could have climbed the hill like a stool and made a dance until everything atop was a ruin. She didn't want that though.

“Give up, you have no chance!” She announced from three meters away. “Your peasants are porridge and you should throw down your weapons now if you don't want to end up the same!”

She hadn't killed all peasants of course. There would be plenty left on the eastern side of Winhall but she had murdered a good portion of everyone on this side, not that she cared. The fringes of her soles were crusted with mud, blood and gore already. She was big and they were small, and they got squished when she stepped on them. That was the game.

To her displeasure no one answered and so she moved closer. Far as she could see there weren't so many soldiers behind the walls, meaning that she was perhaps confronted with a force of sixty or so, less than half as many as she had already undone today. She could see several men mounting their horses however, being handed swords, shields and lances. They might make for another twenty at the most.

“Arrows! Notch! Draw! Loose!”

Like a swarm of particularly tiny mosquitoes they flew at her. She was in range but they only prickled lightly on her skin where they hit it.

“Stop that, or you'll make me angry.” She said irritably, refusing to budge.

“Notch! Draw! Loose!”

Another flight flew at her, just as pointless.

“Fire! Fire arrows!”

It took a few seconds but soon every bowman in black-yellow surcoat and silvery half helm on his head had a sizzling plume of smoke rising from the tip of their bows.

“Notch! Draw! Loose!”

They flew like fireflies, beautifully almost. Laura's shirt was still damp though and even if it had been bone dry, the arrows were so tiny and their burning heads even tinier that she could not imagine them being able to set her ablaze.

“Again! Notch! Draw! Loose! Kill the monster!”

Again and again, no result. Laura stood, unwilling to move. They had to understand that they couldn't beat her, else it would be chaos and all she could do then was butcher them.

“It isn't working, milord!”

The speaker was a standard bearer that looked just like all the others and he had spoken down into the courtyard.

Then he spun around, walked to the opposite edge of the wall and shouted down: “Open gate!”

Laura knew what was coming and moved closer, scaring the bowmen and the halberds that accompanied them into retreat. The iron mesh thing at the bottom of the tunnel started rattling as it was drawn up and soon, faintly, she could hear hoof beats pounding down the stony path inside.

It felt something like whack the rat as she waited with her foot in the air over the exit. Soon as the first horse's head came into view she stomped down, crushing a few riders and bringing the white stone gatehouse to collapse with them. Dust rose around her foot and the massive stone block caved in all the way up to the wall where only the standard bearer remained until he was yanked down to his death with the ensuing cascade of falling rock.

There was so much dust that Laura couldn't see anything for a time, no matter how much she tried waving it away with her hand. When it settled, everyone was gone and the castle looked like the plastic model of one that someone had forgotten inside the shelf of a cabinet for years after one fifth of it got molten in a fire. The white bottom block was everything, and it was massive in fact but tunnelled in more than one place too. Likely, the builders and laid it first and then dug into it with hammers, chisels and pickaxes as though it were a mountain.

So far, none of her encounter with the castle had gone the way Laura had hoped, but still quite as she had expected. That they had wanted to ride out and meet her in the field was somewhat surprising, but nothing unheard of either.

She pondered what to do next, thinking the lord, or rather the count she wanted to talk to, dead in the tunnel below; when out the opening in the courtyard marched white figures in armour on foot, carrying swords. The dust had made them white, she saw, and played rough on their lungs as well. They were coughing and spitting, and looking rather grim.

In terms of armour these fellows were equipped quite raggedly. She had expected more plate than mail, closer to something Horasian than Nostrian or Andergastian. But these men seemed to wear not much better than their bowmen. One man who did not have his sword drawn stood out because he was the most handsome by far, clad head to toe in a dusty, fitting, ring mail, gilded rings making up the crossed swords of his house on his chest. On his head was a helmet, visor open.

“Milord?” She smiled, genuinely happy to see him.

He looked up at her, darkly. His features and hair colour were hard to make out, covered in dust as he was, and the helmet helped that rather little. The visor was up atop his head, featuring a steel beak with breathing holes that made it look like the knightly costume of some rodent from a children's cartoon.

“Why is your helmet shaped like the head of a rat?” She asked, utterly unconcerned.

She had already won this, for now.

He spat onto the ground, knowing that he was beaten: “That is a pig face bascinet, monster! What do you want?!”

His men were not so cunning and formed a circle around him, steel in hand.

Laura shrugged lazily: “I just want to talk, is all. There wasn't any need to shoot fire at me.”

She leaned a knee against the hill to be a little closer to him and get a better view.

“I'd really like to see you when I'm speaking to you though. Remove your helm.”

Hate in his dust-covered eyes the knight unclasped it at the bottom of his chin, clumsy with his ring-mailed fist. Then it came off and he shook his hair out, chestnut brown and parted at the middle of his skull, falling down sweatily over his ears.

Laura leaned forward over them, the men around the tiny lord raising their shields and weapons. She giggled dismissively at that reaction for a moment and blew as hard as she could to get the dust off them. Grey and white turned to black, or faded black which was close enough to grey too, and three men even lost their feet in the wind she made. The lord looked noble. He was a tall man in his early thirties perhaps and quite handsome even without the helm. His cheekbones were high, his jaw strong, the eyes fierce with well defined brows. His nose was large but not too large for a man. It made him look masculine. Of beard he had perhaps some shade of stubble.

“You're a pretty lord, aren't you.” She teased, rising higher again to save his men from having heart attacks.

“What do you want, giantess?!” He asked angrily. “If you mean to kill us you can do so without wasting so much breath!”

She only smiled a little wider: “A man of action too, oh, so manly.”

He had naught but contempt for her. His eyes seemed almost black with it, which she found terribly funny.

She licked her lips and made herself look quizzical: “Mhh, what do I want? Let's see. I'm a big monster, as you say, and so far I've killed maybe two hundred of your peasants. Now, do I want to kill you too?”

She wrinkled up her nose and frowned: “No, I don't think so. What's a monster to do if there's no valiant knight to stop her, right? It would get rather boring then, the way I see it. So I guess I'll just eat some noble maidens for now. You wouldn't have a princess I could eat, would you?”

“You monster!” He snarled, face dropping in horror. “You'll never get her!”

That was not what Laura had been fishing for at all. All she had wanted was to find out if there were innocent noble ladies here, make the little guy watch her eat them and then take him to the city to see what Janna had been up to in the meantime. The bells were still ringing but had gotten somewhat softer by now, so clearly there was some activity.

Intrigued, she sat down on the foot of the mountain below, right atop the rubble. That way, the towers and everything were above her head but her face was much closer to the courtyard, almost on level even.

The lord drew his sword and assumed a fighting stance, one foot set back behind him. He did not carry a shield.

“Do you think you can hurt me?” She asked lazily.

“I will kill you!” He swore. “On my honour! I will cut through your eye and slash your ugly brains to pieces!”

He didn't move however, even though maybe he could have made the jump to her face if she allowed it.

“That would make you the valiant knight with no monster to slay. Not so appealing, really. We need each other.”

He was furious: “We do not need you! We are a peaceful, prosperous kingdom, well on our own!”

“Peaceful?” She cocked a brow. “Does taking Havena from Horas sound peaceful to you, you little idiot?”

She had meant to broach that topic from the start and wanted to get it out of the way so she could get to the princess.

“Havena came to us on it's own terms!” He snapped. “They were outraged over their empire's alliance with horrors like you!”

'Interesting.' She thought, smiling.

“Well, be that as it may, I am here, and you have lost the battle. And right now, as it happens, my belly yearns for some young, fresh princess to digest.”

“Over my dead body!” He cursed, taking a raging step forward.

She took the playfulness down a little bit, getting serious: “You know I can do that. I could kill you with a flick of my wrist. If you and I weren't speaking to each other I would be sitting on this hill and rolling my ass over your crushed and flattened bodies, including your little princess. I'm getting her, one way or the other. I have won.”

The statement hung in the air like a headsman's axe. She didn't even know who that princess was yet, only playing the evil monster role. It was fun and getting more intriguing by the minute. There was nothing any of them could do. In the worst case the girl would be hidden away and die when Laura destroyed the castle. Eating the princess had much more of that poetic, fairy-tale appeal though.

She considered starting to rip the castle apart some more to show how powerful she was but that might get the princess killed depending on where she was hiding. Laura suspected her to be in the bergfried but couldn't be certain of that at all. In her mind, she noted that she was already obsessing. She wanted the girl. Her mouth watered at the thought even though she was sufficiently nourished. She imagined the princess beautiful and young, with a fine dress, slender arms and legs and some jewelled little crown sitting on her head of well-combed hair. Delicious. That might turn out disappointing however, Laura realized. The girl might well be fat or ugly, and fat and ugly people were way less fun to eat. In fact, it was even a little gross. Or the princess could be a child or a toddler. Eating children and toddlers gave Laura no joy. It made her feel guilty and she tried to avoid it where she could, devising the deed as quick and painless as possible where she couldn't.

That thinking gave her pause.

“How old is the princess?” She asked, trying not to let her face show her decidedly less evil qualms.

“Sixteen!” The knight spat, oblivious to why she had asked it.

That suited Laura. In this medieval world, she had seen twelve-year-olds be considered grown-ups. There were barely any schools or universities, and adult life started much earlier. For women, as soon as their period came, they were fit to marry. And if the princess was old enough to get boned by some lordling, surely she was old enough for Laura to eat her.

“How come you have her? Is she your wife or will you marry her?”

“Her Highness is my ward!” He replied in rage. “King Finnian himself entrusted her to me and I will sooner die than give her to you!”

“You have a real death wish, don't you?” She asked irritably, moving aside and pointing towards Winhall. “Do you see that over there?”

Janna was walking around, clearly visible despite the distance, and she was visibly engaged in killing people.

“My friend is levelling your town, uh, Bragon Fenwasian, was it?”

He watched Janna darkly for a few seconds before switching back to Laura: “You have the wrong man, giantess!”

“Pardon?”

“I'm not Count Bragon, and my family name is Conchobair; no Fenwasian scum. Open those big eyes of yours!” He beat at his chest with his left hand, pointing to his sigil. “Does this look like a thistle to you?!”

Sigils were nothing to Laura. She had seen whales that stood for Thorwal, acorns, oak leaves and trees for Andergast, flatfishes for Nostria and red bugs for Joborn. He couldn't expect her to know Albernian sigils. She had just arrived here.

“A thistle?” She frowned, unsure what to say. “Where is Count Bragon then, and to whom belongs that town over there?”

The crossed golden swords on black were the sigil of house Conchobair, she deduced, and she remembered that Winhall had had something different, different colours too, but what did she know if that meant anything.

The little knight looked sour: “Oh, it belonged to my house, but not any more; not since Fenwasian the thief stole it, and the whole county! Where he is, who gives a rat's arse?! His seat is Weyringen Castle, at Otis, in the south, but he might just as well be with the king at Havena, celebrating the return of Albernia's old capital!”

He was getting even more angry, she saw. That was intriguing, but puzzling as well. He stood there, tiny like a bug and minutes away from getting crushed to nothing, complaining over the loss of a city that was being trampled and probably raped as they spoke.

“How did he do that?” She asked. “Doesn't the king award lands and titles?”

“Have you been living under a rock?!”

“No, my lord,” She smiled, “I'm much too big for living under rocks. I've been eating princesses elsewhere before and only just came here, is all.”

She didn't know if she was really interested in the story. It likely didn't concern her and would waste time she could spend crushing people. She really, really wanted that princess though, and best if she was presented to her on a platter. Also, the guy was likeable, honest in his contempt, and not to forget handsome. Laura had always inflicted with a weakness for handsome men.

“I'm no bloody lord!” He spat. “I'm not even a knight! His Majesty sees fit to deny it to me, since the Sword King, my noble father, rebelled against him. I'm a squire, at thirty six, and with no knight to serve!”

“You're lord of this castle though, aren't you?” She asked, fearing that she had wasted her time tremendously if not for the princess.

“An empty title with no lands attached.” He replied. “He put me in as heir but I can barely keep my garrison! We'd starve if we hadn't sold our armour and we'll have to sell more when winter comes.”

That explained the ragged mail but Laura really couldn't care less about that. Something in his story wasn't adding up however, and she wasn't going to let that slide.

“How come you have the princess then, if the king hates you so much?”

The man who was no knight laughed bitterly: “He hates her even more! Perhaps he hopes I'll spoil the girl, or conspire with her so he can cut off her head. He's nineteen and has yet an heir to produce, so until that time, his cousin remains a threat to him.”

Laura had thought the princess to be a daughter of the king, but daughter, sister or cousin, she'd eat all gladly. What else Conchobair had said changed things somewhat however. A wild idea was beginning to spawn behind Laura's forehead. She didn't know if any of it was feasible, or if it could be put into practise. It also involved not eating the princess, which was the worst part of it by far. It had to depend on whether the girl looked as tasty as she envisioned her or not, she decided.

“So, he put her here with you, since you are isolated, doomed to fail and no threat.” She concluded. “Your father, the Sword King, rose in rebellion against the real king. The thing was a failure, your parents were killed or exiled and your lands taken. The king thinks you'll try to avenge them and get it all back and his cousin will help you, so he can get rid of you both. Sounds like I'll be doing him a favour by eating her and crushing you?”

“Yes, sounds like.” He spat, now thoroughly beaten again.

He knew he didn't stand a chance against her, but Laura sensed that he was brave and spiteful enough not to give her the King's cousin anyway.

“I'm a monster though.” She added. “Favours for kings are not in my repertoire, least of all for free. It is against the rules.”

Those rules were fairy tale rules and completely made up, but if Laura, the all-crushing goddess, decided that they had validity now then so they did. He looked up at her, forlorn little man, doubt all over.

“What are you saying?” He asked, the tip of his sword long hence pointing at the ground.

“The king wants you to rebel and try to heave his cousin on the throne. I say do it.” She smiled. “You know we have allied with Horas and your kingdom has taken Havena from them. Well, we are going to lay waste to that heap of shit you call Winhall, and then we'll go to Havena and kill everyone there. Since that's where the king is it wouldn't surprise me if he ended up under one of us, means your princess' husband will be the new king, right? How about a kingship, for that countship you lost? You can behead Fenwasian if you like, if he isn't at Havena and gets squelched as well.”

She was about to lay down her terms for that bargain when suddenly the door of the bergfried flew open.

“Yes!” A young girl in a yellow dress shouted, sounding lustily as though she just had an orgasm.

She would have looked almost angelic if not the expression of vile, disgusting hatred on her porcelain face. She was slender at the waist with modest cleavage crushed in a bodice. The dark golden curls of her hair were pinned up behind her head beautifully. She looked ready for prom, bitchy and rich. And tasty.

Laura bit her lip. This girl was even better than she had envisioned, not as innocent but even more beautiful. By now though, she was too deep into her plan.

“In turn,” she went on, slowly, “you will forget all the shenanigans we played with your little people. When Gareth asks you to pick up arms against Horas, you will refuse. You will take no part in any action against Horas or us, at least until my friend and I come back to your lands. Then I may or may not eat your wife. Do you agree?”

“Yes!” The princess shouted triumphantly in his place. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

Maybe she hadn't heard, Laura thought, or maybe she was just too full of hate to care. If they ever crossed paths again, Laura would eat her. She was absolutely serious about that. Her mouth watered again, but she was really proud of the cunning plan she had designed, not for Horas but for the sake of itself and its sheer brilliance.

Little Lord Conchobair looked aghast: “There's a fly in your soup though, giantess! I already have a wife!”

Laura grinned: “You know, if you love her, you really shouldn't have said that. Where is she?”

“She left me!” He confessed, pointing. “She is in that city I can no longer set foot in.”

Laura's smile grew.

“Well, I can set foot anywhere. Let's see if we can't find her and initiate some divorce. Poor thing. I bet it will crush her.”

-

Furio's hands were still shaking. Seeing Janna run towards him and Graham had almost stopped his heart. He knew of course, to some extent at least, that she wasn't going to kill him, but seeing this enormous mountain of flesh run might even have frightened the goddess Rondra herself.

The giantess had apparently felt the sudden need to see him and Graham save, but she wouldn't let her living toys go unattended for long either. The two scholars had found themselves in her fist and then dumped unceremoniously onto the battlements of a huge tower. Weapons lay strewn around, indicating that soldiers had been here. Their broken bodies were well below after she had swept them off. The way down into the stone drum was bared with a heap of rubble she had placed there, cunningly removing all conceivable threats.

Still, Furio and Graham were not alone there. In the middle of the crenel-framed circle was a wooden flag pole, three banners at it's bottom and the white flag of surrender at it's top. The banners were black raven atop a black wall on silver, three silver crowns on blue and a black, crowned thistle on yellow. Atop them cowered a woman, tall and slender, graceful, had she not been weeping, retching and convulsing with grief. Her fine gown was silver and black, an ornate chain of gold about her neck indicating who she was. This, amazingly, had to be Saravil Hexen. The steward of Winhall was a woman.

Why Janna hadn't wiped her off the tower as well, Furio could only guess. She was clearly a non-threat. Maybe she'd be good to torment later, or maybe this was her torment, watching the giantess toy with her city, crushing her people to pink mush under gargantuan boots.

“Run for your lives!” Someone shouted below when Janna came by once more, giggling darkly before the screams were cut short beneath her.

The ground below the tower was cobbled, which was good because the clatter of the stones when her boots crushed them drowned out the horrible sound of bodies squishing like rotten fruit. Still, he couldn't fault the poor steward for retching. Nothing outside an army of walking dead could be half as upsetting to the stomach as first seeing these titans inflict their deeds upon mankind. Not unlikely it had been the steward's command to hoist the white colours, perhaps foolishly thinking that it might alter the town's fate.

“A pipe.” Furio told Graham.

He considered moving over to offer comfort or condolences, or something, but decided against it. There was nothing his words might change, and the whole of this situation was very much his fault. When the smoke filled his throat he started to feel better.

'Though, in future, something stronger perhaps.' He thought.

Janna was still moving about within the city walls, every now and then returning to the former gates by the river. Before, she must have encountered many there, trying to climb the walls of rubble she had created but since there had formed fields of mangled, trampled bodies, only the bravest seemed to try any more.

North west of the tower Furio was standing on, on the other side of the cobbled square, was the market place. Any stands of vendors that had been there were as flat and broken as the corpses beside them but now the giantess returned there to have a look at the huge, four-storied inn with it's yellow straw roof. The townsfolk around her behaved like minnows in a shallow pond, keeping away from her as they could and trying to stick together.

Janna knelt and tore into the roof of the huge building with her hands, looking for prey. Massive wooden beams broke like sticks, albeit with much more fanfare, crashing and cracking, thundering when they came down. The first few people she found where eaten without comment, only a belch as air escaped her certainly cavernous stomach to make room for the newcomers.

The inn wasn't very well frequented at this time so she had to pry a lot of it apart to get to her morsels. Her method was systematic, room for room, story for story, and any living thing used in any way she liked. A girl with olive skin and thick, shiny black hair went down into her britches, her youthful yet gargantuan sex in all likelihood moist and excited all over again.

Then she started gathering people between her knees.

Furio turned, first to Graham who stubbornly cowered on the ground, writing on a piece of parchment with a ferocity that was new to him. Then Laura arrived, suddenly, huge, beautiful and deadly as always.

“Furio!” She smiled even a hint more evilly than was her usual custom.

He puffed and nodded in reply, tongue tied to the roof of his mouth, rejoicing in the sweet bitterness of Stoerrebrandt's. Her giant hand extended towards the surface of the tower, disembarking two passengers. At first he had thought them just more toys, but if they were then they must have come willingly, judging by their faces. The first was a girl, youthful and beautiful as her captor, gowned in yellow finery. The second was a tall, handsome knight in mail, two crossed swords in withered gold making up the sigil upon his broad, muscular chest. Furio exchanged a confused, mistrusting glance with both of them, but Laura did not bother with introductions or explanations.

“So, any idea where I might find your little wife?” She simply asked from above.

The top of the tower was as high as her hips and it's diameter perhaps slightly larger than her waist.

“No need!” The knight called, looking at the cowering steward by the flag pole. “There she is!”

“Oh!” Laura made, grinning widely. “Do you want me to-?”

Steel scraped on leather when the knight suddenly drew his sword. It all happened rather quickly and Furio was much too puzzled to question or do anything about it. Janna said something and Laura replied, all in the tongue he could not comprehend.

“Reo!” Saravil Hexen looked up. “What is happening?!”

He was coming at her, sword in hand,a long, bastardly thing. The rings of his armour rang merrily and produced a most peculiar sound where they slapped upon the wooden deck of the tower.

“Reo, no!” The tall, beautiful steward screeched. “No!”

“I must do this, Sara.” The knight replied through clenched teeth. “She leaves me no choice.”

Furio puffed at his pipe, looking. At once, the tall man made a leaping sidestep raising his blade before hacking down. The woman steward screamed but was cut short when the cold steel connected with her temple. He had aimed for her neck but she flinched, leading to a most grizzly scene. The top of her skull came off with a horrible crunch and a gout of blood and brain matter sprayed everywhere. The severed skull piece flew and hit the wood with a clanger so very much like a wooden bowl that it made Furio sick. Hair still stuck to it, crusted with blood.

“Urgh.” The girl in the yellow dress made and averted her eyes.

Past the hand she held in front of her mouth Furio thought to be able to see her smile, however.

“You shouldn't have left me!” The knight shouted angrily at the corpse, flinging down his sword in disgust.

Furio inhaled deep into his lungs while the girl moved to the knight, touching his arm gently.

“It was the right thing to do.” She said calmly, in that way that some women have which can give men courage. “Now we can marry.”

He did not so much as look at her but did not object either. The blood of what had been his wife was all over him.

“Woa.” Laura chuckled above, heartless and cold. “That's what I call a good swing. I was going to ask you if you want me to crush her but I guess it's good that you did it yourself. Shows conviction.”

Janna said something and moved up on her knees to see, then frowned and returned to her toys. She did not want to know what any of this was about and Furio was not so sure himself. But unlike Janna, he couldn't help it.

“Don't hurt these two.” Laura pointed her huge finger at him. “Stay right here. Oh, and...”

Her hand reached into her trousers, into her undergarments and retrieved the Mad Lioness.

“Guard this one for me. See that she doesn't get hold of a sword.”

The priestess was wet ball on the ground, her short hair slick with the slime that covered her. Her cheeks had hollowed somehow and the rings under her haunted, red-green eyes were almost black. She looked like a living corpse. Why Laura rid herself of her was rather obvious. She wanted to be able to play freely with her cunt, killing people with it.

“Who are these people?” The blood-spattered knight inquired but the huge giantess was already walking away, stepping on houses.

“A priestess of Rondra.” The high-born girl in the yellow gown walked on, sensually. “Or what is left of her anyway.”

The Mad Lioness only whimpered and coughed under the curiously detached gaze of the girl.

“A scribe.” She went on. “And a rather furious one, it seems.”

Graham looked up at her, the eye on the good side of his face widening for an instant before he returned to his writing. She was beautiful enough to rouse interest of such a young man, but it appeared that his attention was captured by scholarship for now.

“And a wizard.” She concluded, looking at Furio.

He puffed and looked from her to the knight and back.

“That's the Mad Lioness, gods save us.” The tall man in armour picked up his sword.

He seemed to consider sheathing it before meeting Furio's gaze and deciding against it.

“You are Horasian.” The girl observed, studying him. “Nobly born, I'd say. Aren't you, wizard?”

Below the tower people screamed as Laura drove them before her, picking off and burying under her feet each time the slowest of them, like wolves might do to a herd of running sheep.

The girl took his silence for a yes.

“I see.” She said. “You are her ally as much as we are.”

“Their ally.” The knight corrected. “There's two of them.”

“And two of them.” She added with a nod at Graham. “What is he writing?”

Furio exhaled two fine streams of smoke from his nostrils: “All this.”

It took a moment till they understood.

“Historian.” The knight scoffed. “Glorified singers who can't sing. I could scarce think of a more boring breed.”

He stepped closer, sword still in hand but his pose unthreatening.

“It takes a skilled writer to capture images such as these.” The noble girl said looking behind Laura, the squashed, obliterated corpses in her wake.

Graham looked up briefly, then went back to writing.

“He illuminates as well.” Said Furio.

The girl frowned: “Grizzly.”

Every inch of Furio's body shuddered at the tenor of the conversation. Many words about nothing, unspoken mistrust, threats or no threats or hints of them.

The knight cleared his throat: “I suppose this makes us allies, of sorts. For the moment, anyway. I am Reo Conchobair, this is her highness the lady Branwyn ni Bennain, cousin to King Finnian ui Bennain and heir to his throne.”

That helped clear things somewhat in regards to why Laura had taken them here. There was no grasping her intentions of course but that circumstance was not unusual with Laura at all. Furio also noted the complete absence of any titles from Reo Conchobair's name.

“I am Furio Montane.” He replied. “Magicus of the army by the pleasure of his Royal Magnificence Horasio the third. This is Graham.”

The boy should assume some other name, he thought, to distinguish him from other Grahams. Mapmaker, while accurate, did not ring favourably for a scholar though.

“That one is called Laura.” The girl gestured towards the south where Laura was gleefully stomping more people. “And that one is?”

“Janna.”

“I'm going to sit on you all. That's why I've gathered you here.” The man-eating enormity just informed her newest victims.

The inn was done, more than levelled in fact because she had dug out the vaulted cellar as well. There she seemed to have found wine and ale that she gulped down by crushing the massive barrels over her mouth, and many more people.

“Don't run now.” She sighed with a playful laugh, flicking the odd runner back into their place. “It's going to happen. Just accept it and be glad I don't do something worse.”

The people were too many to count. They were less than a hundred, Furio judged, but more than fifty. Janna rose briefly and turned around, then biting her lip and fulfilling her gruesome promise. The cacophony of screams ended abruptly when her rear end sank into the ground where her victims had stood. Then she sighed deeply, rolling her bottom side to side so as to also flatten evenly the ones at the side she hadn't gotten before.

“I hear you are going to Havena next?” The princess Branwyn ni Bennain addressed Furio.

Another puff of smoke was her answer.

She frowned and changed her approach: “I am very pleased to meet you, Furio Montane. And I do not see why our alliance should only last for now.”

“You heard her?!” Reo Conchobair moved in, towering over the little, beautiful girl as men like him often did. “She means to eat you the next time we meet!”

She gave him a shrewd look to shut him up and tried to ignore him.

“When I am queen and refuse to heed Gareth's call to arms I may well find myself in need of allies. Who better than Horas then?”

“If you'll ever be queen!” The knight insisted. “Havena is a tougher nut to crack than this town. How much larger is it?!”

“Much and more.” She laughed. “But do you not see this?”

Janna was bouncing on the corpses, squishing them more and more into obliteration and ending any hope of surviving by being pressed into the ground. Furio could feel the tremors in his legs even up the tower.

Conchobair was not appeased: “Yes, they're heavy! Remember the Muhrsape and how treacherous it is! They'll sink like stones in water!”

The Muhrsape was the name of the swamps making up and surrounding Havena. They had a reputation for swallowing people indeed, but Furio could not, for the life of him, imagine Janna or Laura sinking in and vanishing there, given their size.

“You know, my betrothed,” princess Branwyn snapped, “much as I could bring myself to fancy you, I shall never marry a defeatist.”

That seemed to shut the big man up.

“A cunning plan you have devised, my lord wizard.” She turned back to Furio. “Perhaps more cunning than you know.”

Once more, Furio said nothing. He did not know the details of this plan. No doubt it was another fancy of Laura's, an idea dreamt up at moment's notice and without considering any of the consequences for beings no more than bugs to her. But being thought the architect behind it might serve to his advantage yet, he considered.

“I promise I'll be a good queen.” She went on. “I'll be your faithful ally. Might I hope for your protection in turn, when the time comes?”

There it was again, that talk of total war.

“If it comes to that.” He allowed vaguely. “But know that none I say, or Laura says, is binding.”

She nodded: “I understand. And yes, perhaps, after losing Albernia, maybe Gareth will reconsider war.”

“Are you certain that you can control Albernia?” Furio asked. “A situation as this might fan the flames in many an ambitions heart.”

“After Laura kills my cousin? Yes.” She replied. “What other claims there might be, none are as strong as mine. Will you conquer the rest of the west coast as well?”

He frowned and drew smoke, thinking how much he should reveal. Once again saying nothing seemed to be the wisest course. If drawing Albernia to Horas' side took only the death of one king then that was fortunate. Other kingdoms might not fall as easily, if such undertakings would ever come onto the agenda.

“I am not a defeatist, Bran.” Conchobair found his voice again. “I am willing to do this thing, with you. But you should pray never to cross paths with this monstrosity again.”

Princess Branwyn's mouth tightened. She knew she was playing with fire.

“How much do you control them, Master Furio?” She asked next.

Laura had slipped out of her britches and was apparently gathering people at the front of her undergarments. They bulged and kicked there as though she had worms for a crotch. Janna was suddenly naked from the waist down, manipulating her black-haired captive for pleasure while stalking the streets in search for lives to end.

“They do occasionally listen to my suggestions.”

That was the truth as of late and Furio thought it best not to lie in this regard. If Laura wanted to eat this young girl then it was like to happen that way, just like she and Janna had come to this town and were laying waste to it now, against Furio's strong advice.

The empty cave that was Saravil Hexen's skull was looking on, still trickling blood. Her body did not move. The Mad Lioness stirred however, dragging herself forward on the ground. Her leg was swollen but other than that it was not obvious why she wouldn't at least sit up.

Reo Conchobair moved over, sword in hand, kicking out of her reach the weapons on the ground that had been abandoned by their former beholders. Much as that was a prudent move, the woman seemed too broken to be a real threat.

“What happened to her?!” The tall knight asked aghast. “That smell!”

She looked up at him, red-eyed and teeth clenched, tears running down her cheeks. Laura had left only a ruin of her former self.

“That!” Princess Branwyn pointed, alleviated all over again by the display of raw power.

Laura had both her hands down her crotch, crushing the trapped, doomed people against her sex. It seemed to give her a lot of pleasure, though looking awkward while she stood there bow-legged and with her back arched like a cat. From the leg hole of her smallclothes a screaming man tumbled to his death. If she noticed or cared she gave no hint of it.

“Praios save us!” The knight made the prayer a curse.

Janna was not engaged with Laura. She was done pressing people into thin imprints of their former selves and now on all fours stalking through houses, ruins and alleys. She was eating again.

He turned away in disgust before giving a queer bark of laughter: “Ha! That's something for your little historian to scribe about. This very keep was where my father proclaimed his rebellion!”

Furio stroked his beard. He knew the story, although it had taken some time to connect the real places and the offspring of the actors in it. Raidri Conchobair, the Sword King, had risen in rebellion against King Romin Galahan of Kuslik. This was the result of a long tragedy with it's roots way back in the Horasian Empire.

Despite his name, King Romin was not the King of Kuslik, the Horasian city, but rather a nobleman displaced from there. His House of Galahan had been the dukes of that city for generations but when a plot by Kusmina Galahan to murder Empress Amene the third was revealed she was executed and her house disowned and banished. That event was called the Blood Convent of Arivor.

King of Albernia, reputedly, had not been a title Romin Galahan ever wanted. He fell in love with Queen Invher ni Bennain and became king by marriage, spending his days making plots upon plots to regain his family's ancestral duchy, instead of ruling. The duke of Winhall, then Raidri Conchobair, a most renowned swordsman, was disenfranchised with that and tried to usurp the throne, sparking another bloody war in Albernia's history.

Albernia had suffered several attempts of kings and nobles to secede from the Garethian Empire before, often leading to war and always being crushed as a result. Raidri Conchobair's rebellion was not that noteworthy in comparison, had it not led to the death of King Romin Galahan. Raidri slew him with his renowned sword Sevenstroke before having his head smashed in by some nameless man's mace in turn.

Today, Invher ni Bennain was still alive but not the regent any longer, having transferred power successfully to her son Finnian. What happened to house Galahan, Furio did not know, but it seemed that with Laura's good graces the Conchobairs would soon get the better of the Bennains, albeit with help from one of their own. Why Branwyn wanted to betray her family seemed to matter but little.

“Who beat Albernia the last time it tried to loosen ties with Gareth?” He asked.

“Nordmarken,” the princess replied, “in the main part.”

“Hmm.” Furio puffed and stroked his beard some more. “Curious.”

He did not think Albernia could stand on it's own for long, thus the request for protection and the question whether the rest of the west coast would fall under the giantesses' attack as well. The ones in question were Nordmarken and Windhag. Whatever crises had ever befallen the Garethian Empire usually spared Nordmarken, which was why it was considered exceptionally strong and powerful. There was no way it's leadership ranks would falter as easily as Albernia's. Windhag on the other hand was settled sparsely, mostly uninhabitable rock and the rest a clefted, windy coast, infested with pirates.

That meant, however, that Nordmarken was the threat and one that could not be dealt with at this time. That was a problem. Winhall was beyond saving at this point, more than half it's houses smashed to rubble and the streets drowning in flattened corpses and blood. If Havena was left unscathed they might have stood a chance for a time, but not after Janna and Laura went there. And going there was non-negotiable, for it was his Royal Magnificence Emperor Horasio's very own command.

The inevitable hopelessness was as crushing as Janna's foot, unless Horas deployed troops.

Furio exhaled from his nostrils, blowing smoke as though he were some dragon.

'Would that I were.' He thought. 'I'd spread my wings and fly and be a feeble bug no longer.'

But judging by the books he had read about the subject, dragons, whether they still existed or had ever existed still being up for debate, would be no larger than cats to Laura and Janna.

'There is no escape.'

“That's true though.” Reo Conchobair mentioned, recognition all over his dim, comely face. “Without help, your reign will be a short one.”

“Our reign, you mean!” Princess Branwyn snapped at him. “But if Horas has any wits they'll see the gain in this. Won't they, Master Furio?”

For a queer moment, Furio considered flinging himself down the tower or tossing the Mad Lioness a sword. Still once more he cloaked himself in silence and Stoerrebrandt's. His throat ached for want of Lee's liquor; his mind as well. He felt like he had a headache, albeit without the pain.

“Havena seceded successfully and joined your Empire with impunity.” The princess went on. “It is possible. Albernia as a whole couldn't because of the rift on account of the Galahans.”

Furio sighed. He didn't want any of this. He had known that coming here was a mistake. The princess was trying to move him to solve her problems. Perhaps there was gain in it for him and still he didn't see why he should entertain any of it. There was clearly much more cumbersome baggage than the princess wanted to admit. He just couldn't see it work.

“Your highness,” He allowed, the words coming out harsher than he intended, “I am not here to solve your problems. This plan you called cunning is not mine but Laura's, dreamt up with the same depth a fish has when it changes the directions in which it is swimming.”

It all made sense. She was young, beautiful and female. Youth was kin to foolishness most of all, and galls, especially high-born, rich and beautiful ones, had oft not faced the same adversities as others had, therefore lacking a certain sense of reality. Like as not, all her life others had pressed forward to satisfy her wants. She couldn't know that this time would be different.

She looked at him, incredulous, proving him right. Then she proved him wrong when she went to the wall of merlons and raised her hands to shout: “Laura!”

-

“You're gonna get fat.” Laura laughed from behind.

Janna swallowed her mouthful of chewed townsfolk: “And you already came! I though we were going to enjoy ourselves.”

“Oh, I enjoyed these.” Laura giggled, upending her hand and letting her sex toys rain to the ground.

They were left all but lifeless, only one or two still having enough strength in them to flail.

“That was only the first orgasm I plan on having. Care to join me?”

Laura was in shirt, shoes and panties, gorgeously cute with her braided hair all tangled up like that. Her slender figure revealed a little bit of her stomach when she stretched and that was most lovable of all. Below them it was carnage.

“'guess you could say we went to town on this one.” Janna mentioned, rising to her feet.

She was naked from the waist down to play with that cute, little black haired thing she'd found. Somehow she had broken the girl's neck though and lost interest, focusing on squishing people instead. Crushing the crowd from the hotel under her butt had been her personal highlight, although the blood and gore had seeped through all the way to her skin as a result.

“Gosh, you're corny.” Laura cringed, laughing.

Janna loved her laugh and she did it so very often. But whenever it came to sexual stuff – and killing tinies was somehow always sexual at this point – Steve would cross her mind every once in a while. That was strange and she didn't want it but it happened anyway.

“Did you see any still trying to get away?”

Laura shook her head: “I think they got the message. Cute move though, with the white flag.”

Janna chuckled: “Yeah. I guess they wanted to talk to me but I was busy squishing them, so I just flicked them off their tower and that was that.”

“You spared that woman though.” Laura raised a curious eyebrow.

Janna shrugged: “She was all distraught and crying anyway. I figured she could watch me play with her city a while longer. I kinda wanted to ask her what she thought of it afterwards.”

By Laura's feet, a rider suddenly galloped out of an intact stables, racing down the street while looking up in horror, his horse whinnying all the while.

Laura stomped him and his mount like a fat, brown cockroach come out from under a sideboard: “Sorry. My guy cut the top of her head off.”

“Do I wanna know what that's about?” Janna asked sceptically.

The man and the animal were red strings of meat, linking Laura's rising foot with ground like chewing gum for a moment.

“They're the new king and queen of Albernia.” She explained. “Can't hurt to have more allies. If we don't want them we can kill them anyway, but I got dibs on the girl, got it?”

“Sure.” Janna shook her head, deciding not to care after all, what those new tinies were about.

“Laura!” They heard the faint shout then from the tower keep. “Laura!”

Laura did not look like she appreciated the interruption but smiled anyway: “Excuse me.”

Janna followed. The townsfolk seemed to try their best at hiding at that point and there was no harm in keeping the suspense up for a little while, plus, if she wanted to get off, having Laura help her would make it infinitely better.

They moved to the massive round tower via the market place, looking down on the four figures. The steward was dead indeed, missing her brains. Graham was writing like none of his surroundings concerned him and Furio seemed angry for some reason. The newcomers were a tall man in ring mail and some baroque it-girl damsel in dark yellow.

“Laura!” The girl shouted up. “It seems there is more that needs to happen if there is to be an alliance between us!”

Laura cocked her head and bit her lip. She did not like that piece of news.

“And what is that?” Janna bullied into the conversation, keeping her chest so that her breasts towered over the girl like boulders that might drop down at any moment and squish her.

The tiny would-be queen looked up at her frightfully: “Th-the Galahans need to die so that we can be allied with Horas!”

“Okay.” Laura offered hesitantly. “Show me where they are and I'll turn them into smears.”

The little brat lowered her gaze and licked her lips. She was straining not to lose her composure.

“They aren't here!” She finally shouted. “Franka Salva Galahan is duchess in Honingen! Her daughter Rhiannon Igraine Galahan is at Weideleth, in the duchy of Nordmarken!”

Laura pursed her lips and let air escape to let them flap, showing her dissatisfaction.

“Well,” Janna grasped the word, “we're not going there.”

The little, bitchy looking girl looked distraught.

Laura shook her head: “She's right. That's not part of the deal. We're squishing your cousin for you, and that lord, what's his name, the cunt of Winhall...Fenwasian, if we come across him at Havena.”

“The count!” Janna threw in, chuckling.

“Whatever.” Laura shrugged. “The rest is your concern. We don't have time for anything else.”

“Then this alliance is doomed to failure, most like.” The man in chain mail said, causing the girl quite a visible distress with his bluntness. “Nordmarken will crush us and Horas won't gain anything.”

“Then they're not better or worse off than they are now.” Janna reminded him.

“I guess I should have eaten you from the start.” Laura added sullenly.

She looked genuinely sad.

“I really thought this was a good plan, but it seems I just haven't thought it through very well. Well, princess, say good bye to the world and hello to my tummy.”

Her hand moved.

“No!” The girl that was apparently a princess fell to her knees. “I was wrong! We can defeat Honingen! We will rally troops and kill Franka and then we will stand against Nordmarken! I will declare the Galahans traitors, their lands and titles forfeit! Horas can enter our civil war just like Nordmarken will! It will be fine!”

Furio pushed forward, spiting smoke and almost choking on it.

“That means war between Horas and Gareth!” He warned, coughing.

“And not only that,” the knight added, “take Winhall and Havena out of the picture and Honingen is the strongest force in Albernia. Bredenhag is piss poor and don't forget that house Crumold has direct ties to Bragon Fenwasian by marriage!”

“It's all terribly confusing, isn't it.” Janna shook her head in bewilderment.

Laura slumped down even more: “Yeah. I wanted this to work so bad but I fear there is no understanding any of it without writing it down.”

“It's simple!” The princess screamed, half angry, half in terror for her life. “The Galahans need to die! Then we need troops from Horas for a few years and everything will fall into place!”

Judging by Grahams reactions, where he looked and when and when he wrote, he was recording this conversation as it happened. Janna did not want to spend too much time in Albernia. She was mindful of their deal with the Horasians and wanted to see Steve save, and Christina as well. On the other hand, as they relied on Horasian agents to get their Earthly friends back, there would likely be a few more days they had to fill with stuff if they didn't want to sit around idly.

“Graham,” she said warmly, “what do you think about this?”

It was nothing but a cute little idea. She was genuinely curious about his opinion and felt like she should include the tiny boy as well. He stared up at her with one big eye and a lazy one, his mouth twisted in even more horror than the princess'.

“I...I...” He stammered, mumbling, shrinking against the merlons, “I do not...uh...”

“Say it.” She insisted calmly, leaning forward whereby pushing him against the wall even more like opposing magnets or as though she had magical powers of her own.

“Ha...Honingen is not so far.” He finally managed meekly. “A day more, at the most, uh...Nordmarken is not so far from there. Another day. Elenvina is the capital of Nordmarken. Weideleth is in the barony of Albenhus, yet another day. Two days back, maybe three...”

Laura seemed lost: “What is he saying?”

“He's saying five to six days if we want to get this right.” Explained Janna.

It were a bunch of places she had scarce ever heard of, but that didn't mean they couldn't be found. At this point she had understood that Laura planned a coup d'etat in Albernia that was turning out much more trouble than she had anticipated. Trouble could be tons of fun though, like a challenge.

“That's thrice what we anticipated!” Furio roared in protest, having overcome his cough.

“But it's an opportunity.” Laura allowed in turn.

That was true. Janna had to admit that much.

“It is war!” The tiny mage objected.

Janna sighed: “War, war. It's war anyway, isn't it. This is war.”

She stomped the ground on which she stood, littered with several corpses.

She turned to English, and Laura: “Here's our situation. If we do this, we increase the risk of armed conflict between Horas and Gareth, which would be seriously horrible for everyone. If we don't do it, there might be war anyway, and with Albernia on it's side Horas might stand a better chance from the get go.”

Laura nodded thoughtfully: “I get that. But wouldn't, like...wouldn't the Albernia we get be horribly crippled? I mean, I don't know how many people live here, but if we wipe out three major cities and squish everyone we meet, there wouldn't really be so many people left to fight. Right?!”

Janna shrugged and gave a nod as well: “Yeah. Let's do it.”