The dye was not cast but it was spilled and solidifying on the parchment as Furio watched.

“Draw up a plan.”

That were his orders as received by Janna. He, Princess Branwyn and Reo Conchobair crowded over Graham as he drew.

“Follow the Tommel, south on the road.” Reo Conchobair, the man who was still a squire despite being in his thirties, advised. “That way you can't miss Ortis and you will get to Honingen quickest.”

Ortis was the location of Weyringen Castle, seat of Count Bragon Fenwasian, the current lord of Winhall. Whether or not he was currently there was uncertain, but if they went to Hongingen anyway Janna and Laura might as well upend the place.

Hongingen was the capital of the landgraviate with the same name, and seat to Franka Salva Galahan, the most powerful Galahan currently without counting King Finnian ui Bennain. Therefore, within a distance that was barely mentionable to Laura and Janna, two things could be achieved at once.

“We are supposed to go to Havena.” Furio objected nonetheless and not for the first time.

Branwyn eyed him shrewdly: “You'll get there. just wait!”

“From Honingen you can follow the road down to Seshwick, then turn for Bredenhag. Bredenhag is the seat of Count Jast Irian of Crumold, whom you must kill. From there go south via Otterntal and Traviarim to Castle Crumold, that house's seat. Destroy it and proceed to Elenvina, the Duchy of Nordmarken's capital. From there follow the Big River upstream to Weideleth, where you should find another Galahan. That should weaken our enemies enough to...”

“Madness!” Furio fumed. “Havena is our purpose! It harbours the King, and likely Count Fenwasian as well, as you've told me! All this plan does is to draw us away from it!”

If they followed this plan, Janna and Laura would be drawn deep into Nordmarken where they would wreak havoc which was no doubt the purpose of this endeavour.

“He's right.” Princess Branwyn agreed. “Go to Havena after Bredenhag and then proceed along the Big River from there. That way we spare more villages and still achieve all we set out to. We must think of raising our own troops after the giantesses' devastation. An army of flattened men will not stand.”

“We will not go to Weideleth.” Furio declared. “It is too far!”

Weideleth was where Franka Salva Galahan's daughter Rhiannon Igraine Galahan supposedly currently resided with her husband.

Reo Conchobair pursed his lips: “To be fair, Rhiannon might still be of use to us. All she ever did was sue for peace with Nordmarken. She does not have the stomach for war.”

Princess Branwyn sighed: “No Weideleth then. But Elenvina must fall!”

Her husband-to-be nodded fiercely. She and him showed no affection for each other, but that was not unheard of with royal or noble couples. If truth be told, most marriages were for ends rather than love, which was why they fell to goddess Travia rather than Rahya or Tsa.

Furio wondered what destroying Elenvina would do to Nordmarken.

“From where does Nordmarken draw it's strength?” He asked pointedly to get to the bottom of that question.

“Of cities there are Elenvina, Albenhus and Gratenstone.” Conchobair replied. “They are not so big though. It is really villages over villages, arable land and not to forget the mines. You will have heard of the goldmines at Xorlosh, but don't neglect the Iron Forest of which Nordmarken controls a great part. Some of the empire's best steel is made there.”

'Some of the empire's best young men are killed there.' Furio knew as well.

Metal converted into power, but the mountains fought off the miners where they could, claiming lives on a scale perhaps rivalling that of Laura and Janna. Well, perhaps not quite, but the death-toll was large enough to leave the work largely to prisoners and other quasi slaves, without ever calling them what they were.

“Then we shall not go to Elenvina either.” He said. “I cannot see which purpose it serves.”

Princess Branwyn was understandably infuriated.

“But we must give them something to gnaw on!” She claimed. “A bloody nose, as you men often say!”

“Elsewise they will crush us.” Added Reo.

Furio shook his head: “There is no point in violating their territory and giving Gareth no choice in whether to start a war. I am against any of this, but let me tell you the extend to which we will help you. We will go to Honingen by way of Ortis, then to Havena, by way of Bredenhag. Where we can we will destroy those who would be your enemies. After that, we shall return to Joborn.”

“Joborn?!” Branwyn's feminine jaw thoroughly dropped. “That is in Nostria! Will you tear up my kingdom and then abandon us?!”

When Janna had told Furio that they would engage in helping the princess with her claim, he had felt that the two giant monsters were escaping his control. Whatever he said no longer seemed to matter. It was time to get back what he had lost, and being idle no longer served. He had to assert himself more, he decided, and throw onto the scales what he had in terms of authority. Luckily, Janna and Laura weren't listening but rather systematically rounding up the remaining population of Winhall in order to murder them.

“It is from Nostria whence we came,” he growled through his beard, “and it is there we must return to. Nordmarken will raise a host and march to reconquer Albernia for the Garethian Empire. When that happens, stall them as best you can and send riders for Joborn. Janna and Laura will fall upon the Nordmarkener host within two days after arrival of the word.”

'And if they don't, then both your pretty heads will be impaled on spikes and I shall never have to suffer you again.' He added in his mind.

It might well be that Laura and Janna would not stay at Joborn; that word would reach them too late and Albernia be overrun by the Nordmarkener onslaught. It wouldn't serve to share those doubts, however. Furio had to save his mission, and prevent total war besides.

“When they are done,” he went on, insisting, “I wager there shall be little left which the priests can bury. Bloody noses, your highness, are not a commodity in our gargantuan allies' inventory.”

'But total and utter annihilation.'

“That's....” The princess was breathing heavily. “That's assuring. You are wise, Master Furio. We shall do as you say.”

“Then you had best melt down your jewellery and mint coins.” He replied. “You will still need Horas' protection, and best if you can pay for it. You shall hire sellswords as well, and as soon as we leave here you should begin rallying your banners and raising as many levies as possible.”

While they argued, all of them forced themselves not to pay heed to the unconscionable horror taking place beside them.

-

Janna closed her eyes and bit her lip painfully. The sensations she felt were hard to describe with words, pleasure entering only marginally into that pool. She was on all fourths, her rear arched upward, and Laura was behind her, pushing living people into her anus.

“This is glorious.” Laura insisted, her voice swollen with several tinies she was coating with saliva inside her mouth in order to lubricate them.

It would have been better if they had had a large amount of fat or butter, only they hadn't.

“Are you sure?” Janna asked hesitantly.

She had felt her sphincter compress and obliterate several of their hapless cave explorers, but several that had made it through intact as well, fighting fiercely for survival in her rectum.

“Yeah.” Laura gave her a reassuring kiss on the butt. “You've got such an amazing ass but you never ever use it.”

“I squash people with it.” Janna objected, wincing when another tiny person entered her.

“But this is so much better.” Laura sounded dreamily. “Imagine the humiliation.”

That, Janna could well and it was the only intriguing thing about this. If truth be told, the people weren't as bad as Laura's finger inside there, but without the latter there was no way to get in the former. It made her wonder how many people she would be stuffed with before Laura thought it was enough.

“Mhhh, want to go inside my friends ass?” Laura taunted. “Oh, yes, you want to go inside my friends ass!”

'Gee, who's the corny one again?'

Whomever she spoke to did clearly not want to do that but she pushed them in anyway. Janna opened her eyes and looked to her right onto the market square. About three hundred were left, awaiting their fate solemnly. Except for the tower keep that probably still contained people, every house, temple or structure inside the walls was even with the ground. There was nowhere to run and they knew it.

Even though Janna found it hard to consciously enjoy any of this, she couldn't argue with the realization that it was making her horny. After all, she had living people whole inside her ass and it was nothing but empowering to be able to say that. She was wet, wanton and ready, but this 'anal' Laura had talked her into wouldn't serve to get her over the edge.

“Come on, you're enjoying this. Your pussy is practically drooling.” Laura noted with another audible grin.

“Then...” Janna struggled for a way to phrase it in a dignified manner. “Feed it, or something.”

Laura chuckled and probed her folds with a finger. Janna bit her lip.

In the middle of the assembled crowd of townsfolk towered the stone dildo, ready for use. Janna felt herself queerly drawn to it. She wanted it inside her, albeit not in her rear, no matter what Laura said.

She could feel a person enter where Laura's finger had been a moment ago and a wave of pleasure following. Then she felt the lips of Laura's mouth on her nether ones, followed by a wet, warm tongue.

“Urgh.” Laura commented a moment later and the tiny traveller was gone.

Janna turned: “You didn't eat him, did you?”

“It was a she.” Laura frowned first and then giggled in her wonderfully light-hearted way. “But she didn't taste very good.”

She turned and regarded the remainder of townsfolk, still solemnly staring at them in various states ranging from nihilistic defeatism to haunted sorrow.

“Do you think we could still find tools and have them shave us?” She asked, stroking Janna's pubic area and the coarse stubble that was sprouting there. “It's time again.”

Janna looked around. The town was smashed, done for, hardly a stone or wooden board left atop the other.

“I don't-” She started when a high pitched shriek could be heard from the tower.

She looked and saw Reo Conchobair wrestling, his blade in the air and the tip of it pointing down. There was a hand on his wrist but he was stronger, pushing down inch by inch. Then the hilt of the sword moved down all at once and into whomever the other was. It was a tangled coil of tiny flesh atop there and Furio was in it.

“Shit!” She cursed and raced to her feet, all thoughts of sex and murder forgotten.

It was confusion for a moment, that which had transpired unclear, until Furio collapsed into Graham's arms and the Mad Lioness into the knight's. Her expression was dead and lifeless, the hilt of the sword poking out from between her neck and shoulder.

“No!” She screamed and rushed forward. “Furio!”

He couldn't die, she thought. He was too important, too much depended on him and he was her genuine friend besides, one of the very few she had.

“She got a sword!” The knight cursed and picked it up from the ground.

Furio stumbled, holding his belly. When he drew back the thick leather flap of his cloak, she saw the white of his robes drowning in red around an entrance wound.

“Damn it!” Laura arrived besides. “I told you to look after her and make sure she doesn't get hold of a weapon!”

The knight could only lift his arms vainly at that.

“Furio!” Janna shouted and knelt in front of the tower keep.

She could feel tears well up in her eyes. She had to think straight now, she knew. She was the biologist, harbouring more knowledge about the human body then all of them put together, if only she hadn't been such an utter failure as a student.

“Stay still!” She commanded in panic. “Graham, lay him down, cushion his head with something!”

“Havena!” The tiny mage brought forth through a cough. “Janna, go to Havena! The Emperor! Argh!”

He was so tiny and frail. And so old. He had not been this old when they first met, she was certain.

“Is there a healer here?!” She screamed, turning to the assembled townsfolk.

If there had been, he or she wasn't offering themselves, and why should they. Janna had their friends and neighbours still fighting and dying up her rear. She had crushed hundreds of them to death and eaten others by the mouthful, all just for fun and games.

“Havena!” Furio coughed again. “Destroy it! You must! The Emperor!”

“She asked you a question!” Laura fumed and turned away from the tower and to the market place. “I will grind all of you into the dirt if you don't answer this instant!”

Her right foot landed stomping in their midst, within a heartbeat turning everyone beneath it to mud. It was pure doing things for the sake of it. Perhaps she felt guilty because it had been her tiny captive to do this thing, the little lion bitch.

“Janna!” Furio was already down to where he could barely speak any more. “Ha...Ha..Havena!”

“Hush!” She extended a hand as if to cradle him only she was afraid to make it worse. “Don't speak now. Stay calm, keep breathing. Graham, press something on his wound, a cloth, a clean one!”

The tiny, useful mapmaker looked around helplessly. There was no clean cloth at hand, and even if there had been it would be drowning in germs. This was way before the age of antiseptics.

Janna gritted her teeth and dug her hand into the rubble she had used to block the way down into the tower in order to protect Furio and Graham from whomever was still hiding inside. She could see the outline of a stairway when the path was clear again.

“You!” She pointed at the tall, handsome man in chain mail. “Go down there and get me a bunch of the cleanest fabric you can find. Get me wine as well, or something stronger if there is, the stronger the better. Now, or I'll crush you where you stand!”

He drew a dagger from his belt and ran as he was bidden.

“A healer!” Laura shouted, stomping on people. “Give yourself up and I will spare you!”

That was a dangerous game, Janna thought. To save themselves now any cunning person could offer themselves up, just for a slither of hope. Furio's face was paling, his robes reddening more and the ground beneath him becoming slick with his life's blood. She had to do something.

In lack of any better idea, she extended a finger over the tiny wizard's abdomen where the entrance wound was and pressed down with a minuscule amount of pressure. Far as she could see that stopped the bleeding but Furio had already lost consciousness.

“We...we were distracted!” The princess in the yellow dress shouted as though she had been accused. “We...we didn't see!”

“Shut up!” Janna hissed at her without even looking.

This girl was nothing more than an afterthought compared to Furio and Janna was too occupied to care about blame.

“Here!” Laura rushed back to Janna's side and dumped a white haired man in grey robes onto the deck of the tower. “He's a wizard too. Save him!”

The man stood up ponderously, straightened his white, wispy beard and looked.

“Urgh...mh...uh...hm.” He mumbled and stammered perplexed.

The way he looked he could have been a hundred.

“Er, remove your hand.” He finally said, pointing.

Janna bit her lip. She was unsure beyond anything other than that she couldn't save Furio herself. She followed the command hesitantly but this new wizard immediately knelt and proceeded to apply the necessary pressure himself. Graham stood by, pale, help- and useless.

“His gut is ruptured.” The old man diagnosed after another moment. “He lives, still, but not for long.”

“We will have company in a minute!” The knight shouted after re-emerging from the keep, carrying a bundle of grey-white sheets and a stoneclay bottle of something liquid.

Janna feverishly turned to the healer: “What do you need to save him?”

He looked up with his tiny, clouded, blue eyes.

“This man is beyond saving.” He said sadly. “It is good that he is not in pain but-”

“You will save him or I will crush you out of your leathery costume, old man, and all the others!” Janna interrupted him. “Try at least; and try your best, or you'll wish you had!”

He chewed on his toothless gums for a moment.

“Needle and cat gut.” He finally told the knight. “Nettle, mouldy bread and mustard seed.”

The cat gut was used to sow the wound shut, Janna understood. Horse hair could be used as well, because it was hollow and allowed the watery secretions of the wound to escape. What the other stuff was for she had no idea.

“Just the needle and cat gut.” She advised, fearing an infection. “Or horse hair, and be quick about it!”

The knight stashed what he was carrying into Graham's arms and went to go down into the tower again but something at the entrance halted him.

“They are here!” He shouted, unmoving.

Clearly, those who had sought refuge inside the tower had come up and in all likelihood there were many armed soldiers among them.

Laura's nostrils flared: “Make room for him or I will tear the guts out of all of you!”

“No!” Janna shouted over her. “Bring us needle and cat gut or horse hair! We need to close a wound!”

Faintly, a moment after, she could hear someone pounding up the wooden stair instead. A helmetless soldier in the colours of Winhall emerged, greeted with the knight's sword at his throat.

“A...I heard you don't kill them that's healers!” He offered, looking at the cold steel. “Ha...heard you needs a wound shut as well!”

“Let him through!” Janna commanded.

The young man wore a dagger, but no scabbard for a sword and no helmet. He could be a field doctor or whatever primitive medieval equivalent there was. He rushed to help, slamming down hard on the knees of his light brown britches and fumbling in a leather pouch he carried on his belt.

“'s bad!” He said after short examination of the patient. “But I'll do 'm me best!”

Janna bit her lip.

“Give him from that bottle first.” She advised.

An infected wound would kill Furio with certainty, if he survived this.

The soldier took the bottle from Graham, uncorked it with his mouth, sniffed and took a swallow before trying to force it down Furio's throat.

“No, you idiot!” Janna cursed. “On his wound, and on your hands too, and all that touches it!”

She leaned in an sniffed, smelling faintly the sweet, sharp stench of liquor.

“Premer Fire?” The old wizard asked. “What, uh...”

The younger man had more zeal in him and did as he was bid, pouring handsomely on Furio's wound, then on his hands, the cat gut and the needle. Janna's pounding heart skipped a beat when he drew his dagger but he only used it to cut away his patient's robes.

Then he went to work.

“I'm so sorry.” Laura began when there was nothing to do but wait. “I feel so stupid. I thought she could be controlled. She was so...urgh, god, I hate myself.”

“Don't.” Janna replied crisp and without looking. “It wasn't your fault.”

In retrospect, though, it seemed rather obvious that something like this would happen with the Mad Lioness and a tower top full of abandoned weapons. Still, who was guilty of what did not change any of the outcome.

The tiny medieval medic took a few more sips of snaps during his procedure, especially when he pulled out a bit of Furio's intestine with the flat of the dagger to treat the ruptured artery there. That he envisioned to do that gave Janna hope again though. Judging by the bleeding, treating this wound only on the surface would not suffice. Still, there were many dangers. Alcohol was an imperfect disinfectant because it could cause cell death, leading to inflammation which it was supposed to prevent. The dangers of sepsis outweighed that concern of course, but it was still something to worry about.

“Er...uh...err...” The old man started to speak. “Eh, the wound is closed. Now he needs bandaging and rest. Uh...we shall need leeches to drain the bad blood, later. There are healing herbs that can assist with the process as well.”

The younger man cut the threat with his dagger and proceeded to bandage Furio with the cloth that the knight had brought, pouring some alcohol on for good measure.

Laura took the old man without a word and went over to the market square where people were still waiting to get crushed or shoved into giant body orifices.

“I'll find you as many fucking herbs as Furio needs.” She proclaimed, picking people up to help her with that so that she wouldn't have to rely too much on the ancient wizard.

It was her way of making amends and Janna made no effort to stop her.

“Put on your pants.” She advised instead. “You'll catch something. It's cold.”

Graham was cradling his master's head by then and she wished that she could do it too. Furio had suffered much since being with her and it hurt her every time she looked at him.

“Will he live?” She asked the tiny medic hopefully.

He gave a sorrowful frown: “'s hard to say. I'm no surgeon, see, just a barber surgeon. ”

“What's your name?” She asked him, distracting herself.

He was comforting to talk to, somehow.

“Uh, 's Yann Redhand, they call me. Will you kill me if he don't make it?”

“No.” She smiled. “I could see you were sincere in your effort, Yann Redhand. I will shower you with gold, or fulfil any other wish you may have.”

He swallowed hard: “Er, I'm wonderin' 'bout me wife. She's in this town...”

It was hard to bear so Janna stood up at once to get it over with. Chances were slim, but she had to try anyway. She went the one and a half steps to the market square and crouched.

“Is here the wife of a Yann Redhand?” She asked, looking from face to tiny face. “I will not hurt you. Please reveal yourself so I can bring you to your husband.”

No one came forth as she had feared. Likely, little Yann Redhand's wife was dead. Perhaps Laura had trampled her, perhaps Janna. Perhaps she was going through Janna's digestive system just now, or perhaps she had died along those up her rear end where by now everyone had thoroughly suffocated. She might have been the one Laura slurped out of Janna's vagina and consequently ate. It didn't matter.

“I'm sorry.” She grimaced when she was back.

His reaction made her sadder than him. He had not a black temper or showed any sign of vindictiveness or anger or even extreme grief. He just seemed to take it, like the little worm he was. As casually as his wife must have died, so he could die and so he accepted it. All Janna was glad for was that he didn't mention any children.

“What...” She chewed her tongue, feeling like now she should distract him. “What does a barber surgeon do?”

He looked around and started to gather his things dutifully inside his little pouch: “I cut 'air and trim beard, like the regular barber, but I also knows how to treat ills and let blood. Perhaps a blood letting 'll 'elp him?”

“No.” She replied determinedly. “Blood letting never helps anybody.”

He looked up at her in surprise but did not object.

“Er, I'm not a real surgeon.” He said instead. “But 'em real surgeons is not that a trustworthy lot either. They once brought me a knight with a sore on his leg and a woman that was feeble-minded. I made the knight a small poultice and the woman I put on a diet to wet her humour. Then that doctor came, from Havena, and said, 'this man knows nothing about treating them.' He then said, 'bring me a sharp axe.' Then the doctor laid the leg of the knight on a block of wood and told a man to cut off the leg with the axe, upon which the marrow flowed out and the patient died. He then examined the woman and said, 'there is a demon in her head.' He therefore took one of mine razors, made a deep sun-shaped cut on her head, peeled away the skin until the bone of the skull was exposed, and rubbed it with salt. The woman also died."

Janna felt her blood chill at the story.

“It's good that you are no real doctor then.” She tried to be cheerful.

“Mayhaps.” He agreed.

“We should bring him to the castle.” The princess stirred. “He can rest there and get back to strength!”

Janna saw the sense in that. Furio could not stay here. But she mistrusted Princess Branwyn and the knight that was not a knight, Reo Conchobair. As far as she was concerned, the two were of little consequence at best, enemies at worst. She was willing to kill people for them, mainly because she didn't really care whom it was she killed, but she would not entrust them with her friend and ally.

Her instincts told her to go back to Joborn where Furio would be safe. She could be there within a day. It was almost evening now, but perhaps with the lantern she could make it through the night and if she walked fast maybe she could reach the Horasian army even before sunrise.

When Laura came back a moment later, she suggested the same thing as the princess though.

“Let's get him to that castle and put him in a bed. He's still breathing, right?”

The tiny barber surgeon confirmed that when the question was put to him.

“Anyway, let's apply those herbs first.” Laura crouched and deposited the old, withering wizard back on the tower. “Master Zaum, get to work.”

The other people who had helped her gather the medicines were no longer with her.

“Did you let them go?” Janna asked, mildly interested.

It would have been the fair thing to do, but not something Laura was likely to have done.

“Yeah, for about one and a half seconds.” Laura confirmed her suspicions with a forced, half-hearted grin.

Master Zaum, the old, doddering man, had a bushel of plants and berries with him. He requested a bowl, a pounder and boiled water. Yann Redhand ran back inside the tower to get it done for him. Reo Conchobair seemed still to be locked in a stalemate with whomever was standing below.

“This is fine work.” The old wizard noted after loosening the bandages again.

Soon after, he had everything he needed and made a poultice with the herbs. Janna was aware that plants could contain things that had disinfecting or other medical properties. After chemistry and empiricism had come along however, these substances had been isolated one by one and tested for their usefulness. The rest was just a bowl of soup, in truth, but it was the best they had now.

“Er, alchemy is not so strong as once it was.” Zaum started ponderously. “As most, it has lost its magic. I tried to find fairies and gremlins to talk to, but to no avail.”

Janna did not understand until Laura explained, adding a certain gesture to make clear that old Master Zaum had likely gone a little senile beyond his knowledge. Strangely though, none of the small people objected to his mentioning the magical creatures.

“Albernia is supposedly full of fairytale stuff.” Laura added after another moment. “South of here somewhere is Farindel Forest and someone told me not to go there or I'd meet all kinds of monsters.”

That was a strange angle. In a world where magic existed magical creatures could exist just as much, surely.

'But what happens to magical creatures when magic dies?'

“And did you go there?” Janna asked.

“No, that would've been too far, I think.” Laura shrugged in response. “We found a small patch of forest and grandpa wizard here got everything he said he needed. It's thick though, the forest, with all ranks and stuff. The tinies can barely move in there.”

“Now this man must rest.” Master Zaum doddered to his feet. “A bed, uh, a door, calmness. A cool compress for his fever, I think. Not long and he will burn on the inside like a smithy.”

“I don't want Furio in the hands of your knew, sketchy friends.” Janna said in English at once. “This might devolve into another hostage situation.”

Laura considered that for a moment.

“Where then, though?”

“Back to Joborn.”

Laura winced at that but nodded: “That's the safest way. But don't you think the shaking will do for him?”

It might, Janna had to admit. It was a pickle.

“Strong ropes, tied to the ship.” Master Zaum came up with an ingenious solution after they presented the problem to their tiny, new allies.

“Where to get them though?”

It all fell strangely into place. Conchobair Castle, it turned out, had a score of exceptionally long and sturdy ropes intended to provide an escape from the formidable fortress in case the gate was blocked by a superior attacker. Janna tied them to the structure of the ship after dumping out the rest of the Horasian canned food. It was sturdy enough and turned the thing into some sort of basket. When she walked a few steps she could see that it sailed smoothly through the air as though it was flying on it's own.

“Okay, I'll go.” She finally said to Laura. “Take good care of Graham and don't get carried away. We'll meet up at Joborn after you've destroyed Havena.”

“Huh?!” Laura was baffled. “No way! I'm coming with you!”

She was still making amends, Janna suspected.

“Havena must fall.” She explained, calmly but sternly. “Furio said it, over and over again. It's like his last will or something. If he survives I don't want him to wake up thinking we didn't care to fulfil it.”

“Didn't he say Havena had more than thirty thousand people?!” Laura looked genuinely afraid.

“Come on.” Janna insisted. “Thirty thousand or one thousand two hundred, where's the difference?”

“That's one heck of a difference!” Laura almost shouted back in her face. “No way, I'm not going there without you! You said we'd never split up again!”

Janna was serious though. Furio had seemed well willing to die to make sure the mission was carried out. She didn't want to corner Laura but she felt like she was left no choice.

“It was your mistake that led to this.” She said. “The little lion bitch was your charge.”

Laura's mouth opened and closed. Her eyes were red and watering. She couldn't reply.

-

Dari was hurled through the air carelessly as if she were a toy; or a babe that someone no longer wanted. To the massive ogress carrying her leg in a crushing grip she was even smaller than a babe, of course. It was her luck that Trundle didn't recognize her from Lauraville or else she might never have gotten to deliver Sly's message.

The ground came up to smash her and knocked the wind from her lungs. She had told Sly that it would have been better to go together, but the pointy-faced brigand was having none of it. Dari suspected that he was afraid of water, and with the bridge closed, leaving Andergast and crossing the river meant going by boat. That had been quite a smuggler's feat. She was dressed head to toe in black, and Sly had bribed city guardsmen again to help them.

She had left through the shipwright's shop by the harbour and made south on the river before finally crossing over. It was her first time ever rowing a boat, but one of the city guard had been a fisher's son and taught her how it was done. Even so, she had been deathly afraid and the boat had almost toppled over in the current. After she was across she made west on the road and ran right into the ogres' arms soon after, first being encountered by Thuran Brotherhood men who delivered her to the next best ogress they knew.

Sly's timing was perfect. He was a brilliant strategist as well as having a gift for inspiring loyalty. He reminded Dari of Dexter.

The camp had been made along the road but apparently Varg had moved a bit into the forest to have some time alone. It was almost pitch dark, the only light coming from a smouldering fire, almost burned down to ambers.

She could see next to nothing. She considered calling out Varg's name when fingers long as her arm curled around her waist. The hand was strong enough to crush every bone in her body, and the grip was not gentle. The huge shadow moved as the ogress bent over the fire to blow on it. She tossed on a few more branches and the world became clear again.

They were alone and Dari found herself in Trundle's crushing grasp.

“I have a message for Varg!” She protested immediately but the ogress only chuckled and tightened her grip some more, squeezing Dari's ribcage.

“I heard you the first time.”

“I must deliver it!” She croaked. “This is important, please!”

At first she thought that Trundle had recognized her after all, but if that was the case the giant, malevolent face gave no hint of it.

“You will deliver it,” Trundle promised, “after I'm done with you. You're a pretty little thing.”

Dari swallowed. Now she knew what this was, that which she had believed would never again be required of her. Trundle shrugged off her shaggy furs and lowered her meaty arse onto the ground, twigs and branches crushing beneath her.

The fresh wood on the fire caught on and the light improved some more. Something next to it caught Dari's eye, glistening wet and red with blood. Judging by the clothes it had been peasant girl, and judging by the shape of her body Trundle had flattened her.

The ogress spread two muscular thighs and moved Dari to her crotch.

“You'll give me what I want or you can forget about that message.” She grunted.

She was young, stupid and murderous, Dari remembered. It wasn't to be put past her to act on the threat, valuing her own immediate pleasure higher than the success of all her kind. The hair on her cunt was yellow, as on her head, and the thing itself was as meaty as everything about her. The outer lips were especially fleshy, and the inside a pale, juicy pink; already excited as Dari could see, likely on account of the dead girl.

Dari was no stranger to committing murder, but she was clueless as to what it was that got these giant creatures so worked up about it. It seemed to be a thing with almost all of them. Back in Lauraville, Nagash's wanton episodes had often coincided with villagers gone missing. That realization chased a cold shower down her spine. She didn't want to go missing. She didn't want to get fucked to death by some horny, adolescent ogress and be left squashed and flattened by an abandoned campfire somewhere in Andergast.

“Please me, or I'll sit on top of you and squash the grout out of your skull.” Trundle advised, letting go of her.

Dari knew where to put her mouth and started licking and sucking the pink flesh, immediately producing a reaction. Revulsion filled her as Trundle's juices entered her mouth. It wasn't the first time she tasted this. What made it so bad this time was that she had thought this episode to be over. That made her doubt everything; even Sly for a moment.

'I could have turned east on that road.' She thought, licking and sucking as though she enjoyed it.

Her gargantuan captor was pleased, breathing heavily and massaging a young, pointy teat with a hand.

Griffinsford wasn't all that far and the road that led there was paved and well maintained. But outriders might have caught her, or some other ill of which there were so many abouts in this kingdom. The desire to run was strong though. Dari considered biting Trundle in the cunt and making a try, but nothing was more like to get her squashed to aspic beneath that youthful rump.

Being between these legs was still better than being beneath them, she decided.

Soon, her skills in that regard seemed to overwhelm her domineering bully.

'She's never had a trained human before.' Dari realized.

The ogress' mouth moved in and out with her tongue and her gasps grew higher and more feminine by the minute. Climax, finally, seemed to thoroughly incapacitate the gargantuan girl. She twitched and shuddered violently, trying to stifle her lustful screams and failing every one out of two times.

Dari's face was wet and her mouth full of bitter tastes. She had practically begged Sly to come with her. Had he done so, none of this would have happened. She felt betrayed by him and used by the giant ogress. The latter had not really surprised her in truth, especially not now, in retrospect. With the ugly deed behind her she felt a little better. Nonetheless, she would have a serious word with Sly about this. The way she saw it, he owed her now, and big.

Trundle's eyes shun evilly in the fire: “I was going to let you go, after, but now I think I'll put a ring around your throat and own you.”

Dari swallowed hard. There was no sign that this threat was empty either. Perhaps she had performed too good in her haste to get it over with. The ogres put metal rings around the necks of their human slaves to mark them. With such a ring, a person became property. Some of the slaves Dari had seen were wretched things like nothing human. The ogres toyed with them and mistreated them where they could. Many broke them in through weeks of torture until they had no free will left and knew only to obey any more.

'I'd sooner be dead.' She thought, but saw how utterly hopeless her position was, here alone in the forest with this young, wanton monster.

Trundle looked at her as if she was less than a dog in her eyes. Just as she spun around and ran, a giant leg slammed into her from the side and ploughed her over, unfathomably quick for such a meaty behemoth, pinning her to the ground.

She was a plaything now, again, utterly helpless. A giant hand caught her arms and the ogress moved on top of her.

“No! The message!” Dari shouted. “Please, this is important! The city!”

Trundle sighed: “Which part of you must I crush to keep you from talking?”

It was a genuine question, Dari recognized full of horror. She could almost see the thoughts forming in the gargantuan, empty head above her. Trundle was too big to get to Dari's tongue and pull it out without killing her but that didn't mean she couldn't do a thousand other horrible things.

It wouldn't do, but with her arms tied, Dari couldn't even get to her dagger. Panic, as throttling as Trundle's grasp, crept up her throat.

Meanwhile, the ogress seemed to weigh her options: “Hmm, I need to keep you from talking or you'll never shut up about that message.”

She was strangely open-handed about it while rubbing Dari's helplessness in her face at the same time. Nonetheless, Dari saw her option.

“Yes!” She nodded vigorously. “I'll scream at every moment of the day! Varg will punish you!”

Trundle frowned: “Then I'll keep you here and have a smith cut out your tongue with a hot knife in the morning.”

Dari's mouth went as dry as the desert of Khôm.

“But I'll run!” She insisted. “I'm a disobedient slave, soon as you turn your back on me I'll run, every time!”

The ogress had been crouching but now she went to one knee and settled a foot on Dari's legs. She already used more weight than was bearable for comfort. If she stepped down any more, Dari's bones would snap like twigs.

“Then I'll break your legs. You don't need legs for what I want from you, only a...”

Darkness settled on Trundle's face and her voice became an angry growl.

“Y-yes!” Dari panted as soon as she had understood. “If you cut my tongue out, I can't pleasure you!”

The growl intensified and she saw that she had made a grave mistake.

“One last time then.” Trundle grinned in a bitter-sweet way. “It's more fun anyway if I can kill you during it.”

She didn't even wait for a reply but swung a leg over Dari, dragged her in position and settled her cut on her face. She let go of Dari's arms, but that didn't mean that going for the dagger was a good idea. The cheeks of the ogress' all-crushing behind were pressing it down in any case, and it was suicide besides.

Dari felt tears mixing with the young ogress' secretions on her face. She pushed the massive labia from her mouth as best she could. It was the last straw to grasp for, in the abyss she found herself in. If it didn't work at least she wanted her killer to hear it.

“She'll know!” She wept into Trundle's cunt. “She's going to find out! You'll conquer the city and Sly is going to ask where I went! The Thuran Brotherhood men saw me, they'll...”

The ogress put a predictable end to her rantings by lowering her weight. Dari felt her body compress. Her head started spinning immediately as the blood was pushed into her head. Her world went dark inside the giant labia and she couldn't have breathed even if Trundle hadn't been crushing her flat against the ground.

She felt roots, pebbles and sticks against her back. The twigs broke easily but the roots and pebbles were stronger than her body, painfully pushing into her flesh. Through the mountain of meat on top of her she could hear the ogress growl again.

'She has to budge now.' Dari thought, strangely elated. 'There is no way she can come up with a solution to this.'

But the young, massive blonde atop her did not move an inch any which way. She just sat there, and slowly killing Dari while doing so, like an afterthought, a by-product, the unintended consequence of a mundane action.

“Quite unworthy.” Dari heard Xardas say.

Then she saw him, robes and all, sticking there where a penis would go if Trundle had been a normal female and not a sick, twisted simpleton who sat on smaller creatures to get herself off. He was the source of the sudden light as well and wore one of his most sorrowful looks today.

“Don't look so drab, old wizard.” She tried to cheer him up. “She has to let me go now. I've got her.”

“Ha!” He laughed amiably in that grandfatherly way he had. “Never stop fighting! You saved the world, remember? You can't die now!”

Trundle was enormously heavy though, Dari realized, and even though she still felt that she was being pushed down she could not feel any discomfort on account of the pressure any longer. That was queer.

“Impaler.” A gruff voice said somewhere.

“Think hard.” Xardas turned serious again. “There is a way out of this. There is always a way out.”

Dari chuckled but the breath that escaped her made her world spin again, unbearably so. It seemed impossible but he was right. She had to try. They had started the day with ale in the place that she and Sly stayed in. Sly had been brooding after that, drinking more and more. Finally, he had send her on her way, going briefly to arrange for the tiny rowing boat.

That couldn't be it though. This day had only truly turned horrible when Trundle had flung her down. As she thought it, she felt it, sailing through the air like a cloth doll from a mummers show.

“This one says she has a message from Sly. I took her for a runaway and almost killed her, but she wouldn't talk until it was almost too late.”

Once more Dari hit the ground. There was pain again, and she was breathing. The scenery changed.

“I want her back when you are done with her. She's a skilful one.”

“If she is Sly's, you cannot have her.”

There was a fire here as well, only bigger, brighter, warmer. The heat of it hit Dari straight in the face. She crawled away from it.

Then she saw Varg, taller than most houses and some towers Dari had seen. Curiosity played on the ogre queen's hideous face. She looked young, though older than Trundle, with hair like copper wire and a freckled nose. She wouldn't have been so hideous had she not been so huge, but the way it was, with her long face and protruding upper teeth she had the unfortunate appearance of a horse about her. That still wasn't all that bad. She could still have passed as moderately beautiful had she not been cross-eyed. Both her eyes were looking in different directions.

When she turned her head Dari saw Weepke as well, much fairer and just as tall and towering over Trundle who must have brought her here. Weepke wore armour and carried her glaive where Trundle and Varg were naked. Dari was confused.

“You should have asked me what the message was.” She told Trundle light-headedly. “That way, you could have told Varg yourself and kept me.”

That was sweet revenge she felt when the ogress scowled. The fire allowed her only to see her immediate surroundings, turning her night-blind to anything beyond, but she understood roughly what must have happened. She also understood that she had been hallucinating. Xardas was dead. How much time had passed since Trundle had crushed her and now, she couldn't tell.

“Well, little one, you woke me.” Varg the Impaler said calmly. “Say your message and hope that it is an important one. If it isn't, Trundle can have you after all.”

Dari swallowed and gathered herself up. Only then did she realize the danger in which she still was. Trundle was impotent in presence of the giant queen, but exactly this queen was notorious for murdering at the slightest displeasure. A human life was little and less to her. To Trundle, at least, Dari had value.

She opened her mouth to speak but could not remember what the message was. Sly had told her something, something important, to do with how he intended to capture Andergast. She panicked again, realizing that she had forgotten what it was.

“Uh...er....mh...” She stammered.

Weepke saved her: “Did you step on her head and squeezed out her wits, Trundle?!”

Trundle denied that accusation but Varg didn't seem to care. She reached to her side and brought up a wooden tub, large enough for a grown man to bathe in it. It was filled with water. The only explanation for why she had it could be that she was drinking from it. That was scary.

Some of the cold wet spilled out when she set it down but Dari all but ran for it, plunging her head in and drinking to get her mind working again. She came out much cleaner than she had moved in.

“Did Trundle mistreat you?” The Impaler smiled mildly.

Dari's condition seemed to amuse her.

'I'm going to pull Sly's fingernails out for this.' Dari felt hopelessly small in midst of these three giants.

“We will conquer the city, tonight!” She coughed.

The queen of ogres frowned: “Conquer? Queen Effine was supposed to give me the city. Sly said so.”

She wasn't always the sharpest sword in the armoury, Sly had warned Dari, but she could be reasoned with.

“The queen alone is weak.” Dari confirmed. “And the council of guild masters want peace, whatever the price.”

The council of guild masters technically had an advisory function and wanted nothing more than for the war to end and the gates of the capital be opened again. Dari could even picture them friendly to giant rule if Varg provided stability and opportunity to trade.

“The problem is, though, that you are coming on from the south. The moment you are seen south of the Ingval all defensive forces will either be moved there or rout through the northern gates. The citizens of the city will certainly run when they see you. You can try to prevent it, but through the southern castle, over the bridge, all under arrow fire you'd likely be too late. Sly said the city was like an egg. Rotten on the inside or no, it must be taken whole lest the yolk will spill out.”

Varg scowled and Dari understood that she would have done better by translating the metaphor. The giant queen likely did not eat eggs. They were too small for her.

“I had in mind to encircle the city first.” She insisted.

And well she could have, Dari thought. As huge as the ogres were, especially the females that made up the bulk of them, they could ford the river in many places.

'Reply sternly. Do not mince words.' Sly had instructed Dari on how to speak with Varg.

It cost her all the courage she could still muster: “Sly's plan is better.”

Whereas Trundle would likely have crushed her on the spot for the insolence, Varg seemed to listen up and take her more seriously. Dari, finally remembering, explained the outline.

“Your human allies, like Sly's men, Thuran Brotherhood and so on, shall go to the gates of Andergast, bold as you please, and sell themselves as mercenaries looking for labour. Andergast is in dire need for trained fighters, so they'll be taken with kiss-hand. Once inside, they will take over the gates and take the queen hostage. That way none of the city folk can get away and we can pressure Queen Effine into playing along without having to fear any shenanigans from her.”

“Tell them at once. Now.” Varg commanded Trundle and Weepke.

The tall, dutiful soldier marched off instantly, but Trundle lingered, looking lustily at Dari.

“What will be with her?” She asked, thinly veiling her desire.

Queen Varg wouldn't give her up though, Dari was certain. Her heartbeat already normalized. She turned to see Trundle's reaction, the monster that had almost killed her twice.

“She belongs to me now.” Varg said in a voice that brook no argument.

The other ogress gave a snort of contempt and marched off.

“Thank you.” Dari whispered.

She didn't know if titles like 'my queen' were appropriate. She had never heard anyone use titles with Varg, except 'Impaler', but then again, she had barely spent any time with the army of ogres yet.

The Queen Ogress looked at her sceptically: “Thank me? Get on your knees and pray I don't kill you tonight.”

Dari had pictured herself amongst the human allies as the plan unfolded. In fact, she had been looking forward to the fight. It was utterly ingenious from a strategic point of view and seemed to entail very little risks. The humans in Varg's employ were quite an interesting bunch, raw outlaws, brigands, mountain- and forest-dwelling barbarians. The Kuningaz Beryanoz were too queer for Sly's plan, but Dari would have loved to see the monstrous, pelt-wearing and half naked Frundengar Hammerfists fight. She was interested in how good the Thuran Bortherhood was organised and how the Steppe Foxes' mounted archers operated inside a city.

Instead, Varg spread her monstrous long legs.

“It will be only a short time ere Weepke returns to report back.” She said. “I better finish fast and hard if you want to see the sun rise another day. You must be quite something for Trundle to want you so.”

“Please!” Dari fell to her knees, her mouth dry all over again. “I belong to Sly! He values me! I'm much more use to you free!”

“Suit yourself, little one.” Varg replied calmly. “If I'm not done by the time Weepke returns, I will break your neck. Of how much use will you be to Sly then, I wonder?”

Dari stood and threw herself at the ogre queen's sex. It was markedly less fleshy and not the least bit aroused when she started, although that soon changed. Having to perform this act on two ogresses in a single day was a new low, but with Varg it was somehow much less demeaning, given her station and power. She was roughly of an age with Dari, and that helped as well.

Dari knew that the biggest factor in lovemaking was in the head, but pure mechanics, if applied persistently enough, could achieve the goal well on their own.

Varg seemed to like Dari immediately, which she knew by now could be as dangerous as failing at the task. When she tried to perform a little less well though, Varg grabbed her by the waist at once and pushed her down.

“Birsel, finish it.” She panted.

Dari's blood froze in terror of that name before she plunged into the slick, warm wet of the ogress' womanhood. She had wondered where Birsel and her whores had ended up. Now she knew. She could only hope that her former enemy was not holding back in hopes to drown her.

Once more, she could not breathe, most of the time. Dari angled her arms tightly against her chest to withstand the pressure. She was moved in and out, now held by her hip and thighs, up and down in Varg's nether tunnel. The sounds in her ears were a cacophony of wet splotching, vibrating with Varg's moans.

Varg was everywhere, her world, crushing her from all sides at once. She was in her mouth, drowning her. Once more, her head started spinning, half from being used so carelessly and erratically, and half from starvation of air.

'This was just what Nagash did to me.' She thought. 'The night she died, the night I saw the torch.'

Thence it had knocked her out, but not this time. This time Birsel was there, and she was as trained a professional as one ever got at this trade. The slick, hot walls around Dari contracted, crushing her like a carpenter's vice for a terrible moment before releasing her. Then the grip on her legs ceased as well. She came out out coughing and spitting slime.

She was broken and disoriented and the more she came back to her senses the more despairing she became. She did not want to be Varg's slave. Escaping Trundle would have been only a matter of time so long as Dari still had a tongue to flap but escaping Varg was a wholly different matter. Varg was the queen. What she said, went.

Birsel was standing over her, portraying what life as Varg's slave looked like. She showed no signs of bodily abuse, indicating that she had thus far well been able to please her owner, but she was haggard and naked but for a crude copper ring around her throat. Birsel's fate had been an exceptionally grizzly one, Dari recalled. In all likelihood, she had suffered a fair bit of raping by the Andergastian soldiers at Lauraville, and now she was the plaything of one of the most notorious ogresses in the world.

That was not entirely undeserved. Birsel was a nasty bit of work as Dari had learned with her own skin. The idea of serving as Varg's little fuck toy beside her of all people somehow made it worse, no matter whether or not her swift pleasuring of the ogres had saved Dari's life.

“Impaler!” Weepke arrived back with word. “There is a problem! They are squabbling over who shall have the command. They were about to murder one another when we stepped in.”

Varg gave a snort of disapproval and rounded on Dari: “Why does Sly send you to bring me this message, instead of coming himself?! Everything falls apart without him!”

The ogre queen moved to her feet, looking down at her newest slave like she already considered departing with her.

'That's the point though.' Dari realized full of astonishment.

Sly was a genius.

“That's the point!” She said aloud.

Sly's plan, if this was truly it, would fall apart immediately with Dari's death. He couldn't have anticipated Trundle, without whom it might have unrolled much more seamlessly.

“He is doing three things with this.” She explained, not daring to be bidden. “First, he shows you how much you need him, second, he is forcing your human allies to work together, and third, he is testing my loyalty.”

Doing this to Varg would earn him a punishment, Dari suspected. That would settle her debt with him.

Varg looked like she liked the sound of that better while Weepke clearly did not understand.

“Who will lead them then?”

Dari tugged in place her quilted tunic, torn under Varg's maltreatment. Where the black cloak was that she had had when setting out from Andergast she could no longer remember. She was wet to the bone with the secretions of two young, ogrish womanhoods.

“I will.”

'Four things.' She corrected in her mind. 'If I do this right, Varg will see in person that I have value.'

-

The ropes on the ship that Janna now called 'The Flying Horasian' worked wonders. Travel was so smooth for her tiny companions that Master Zaum had fallen asleep mid sentence, talking about Havena and how some magical experiment gone amiss more than three hundred years ago had caused half of it to sink into the sea. This, according to his accounts, was why magic was forbidden and there was no magical academy in the city any longer.

“That's not true though!” Yann Redhand protested. “It were Efferd's wroth, it were, because of Havena had seceded from the Empire!”

Efferd was the god of the seas and streams, Janna knew. Which empire Havena had seceded from at that time, her tiny medicus unfortunately could not tell her.

The people up her rectum had become thoroughly pureed by her thigh muscles and it wasn't long before she could not take it any longer. She set everything down and shat them out. Her diarrhoea from that morning had already passed, it seemed, which was good. She picked up the ship, the lantern and her sleeping bag that contained the now useless nightvision device and went on.

She was power walking, determined to reach Joborn as quickly as possible. Furio had briefly regained consciousness, albeit only to moan: “Havena! Destroy! Emperor!”

Nonetheless, she judged it a good sign. Destroying the metropolis of Havena was Laura's charge now. Janna had been harsh to her, but it had sort of been her fault that Furio had been wounded. Janna wasn't blameless either though, having decided to go to Winhall instead of Havena, which had ultimately contributed to this outcome.

Nonetheless, leaving Laura alone had probably been a mistake. She wouldn't get lost this time, at least, since she had Graham with his maps and ingenuity. Surely Laura would be smart enough not to get him killed and if she could flatten Havena on her own then that was good, and if she couldn't then she'd just meet up with Janna at Joborn and everything would be fine.

They could still come back and do it together later.

There was no way any number of tiny people could seriously hurt Laura, Janna told herself. She would nap at Conchobair Castle and eat the rest of Winhall's inhabitants for breakfast. Then, so apparently it had been agreed, she would go and flatten several places before finally going to Havena. There was little that could go wrong so long as Laura didn't diverge from the plan.

If she did however...

Janna shuddered inside. Yes, leaving Laura alone had been a mistake, but she couldn't turn back now. She was moving along the path that they had come, easily identifiable by destruction and footprints. If Laura didn't show up at Joborn within two days, then Janna would have to go look for her and that could very easily lead to all sorts of hassle.

But Furio was too important to let him die, and she had not found it in herself to trust the Albernians enough to leave him at Conchobair Castle. Perhaps they should get to know their Horasian allies better, she thought, diversify the pool of little men they could rely upon.

Yann Redhand seemed like a well-intentioned little companion, but his speech led on that he wasn't all that smart. It would be awkward in Nostria, she realized. The tiny man was technically an enemy. She considered crushing him just to avoid having to explain who he was. Unfair or not, Nostria would have its own doctors and medical personnel, making him superfluous.

Master Zaum would be fine, she judged. The ancient wizard had no apparent powers and was a member of the Grey Guild that was largely non-partisan. He couldn't be as old and doddering as he made himself though, or else he would surely have been crushed while Laura and Janna gathered the survivors of the massacre. They hadn't waited for stragglers, to be sure.

That, she might have to still get to the bottom of, she thought, and decided in the same instant to keep Yann Redhand alive. She remembered his brief account of the knight with the sore and the mentally ill woman. So far, of the many ill-conceived medical notions associated with a medieval society he had only displayed a belief in blood letting. Far as she could tell, Yann was the least likely to murder Furio while trying to save him that she could rely upon just now. That made him valuable.

“Take off your surcoat.” She said and he obliged immediately, tossing it over the Flying Horasian's railing.

She studied him a moment to judge his motivations. Master Zaum's Grey Guild of wizards was generally trying to be helpful and the old wizard had given to account that he travelled several cities and towns regularly. His impartiality seemed rather certain.

Yann was helping to save his own life, obviously. He had said so. And yet, in Janna's observation, he seemed to be just a generally good guy. People of any medical profession were often made that way, back on Earth. She had no reason to believe that it was different here, other than that grizzly story he had told her. She decided to trust him.

He dutifully kept a wet rag on Furio's brow at all times. The injured wizard was burning up, he said, just as Zaum had predicted.

Janna's legs were terribly tired but she kept on with her pace. The way was easy enough to find and there were no distractions. All the while, her stomach was in knots, once over Laura, twice over Furio, and thrice because she had so terribly overeaten on people.

-

Laura's belly was full to bursting and still she kept on eating. She was miserable and doing it out of sheer frustration, partly to punish herself for her stupidity, having been so greedy to get off that she had underestimated the Mad Lioness' danger. The priestess was dead and so not available for Laura to take her frustrations out on. She would have loved to murder Reo Conchobair for failing to prevent the Lioness from getting hold of a sword. That would rob Princess Branwyn ni Bennain of her future husband though, and Laura had no available nobleman of a reputable house at hand to replace him.

She sat by the marketplace, on her arse, cold and wet creeping into her bones. She felt like she deserved it for being so stupid. Her back to the tower keep, the sun was setting west of her, just kissing the horizon now.

The remaining Winhallers next to her had seemingly arranged themselves with their fate and even the last defenders in the tower keep were holding still, only to be killed later. Actually, Laura was supposed to eat these people in the morning. Reo Conchobair was taking troops over to take everyone prisoner and lock them up in his dungeons so that they wouldn't escape.

She didn't care about that either, eating handful after handful without any in joy it, even only chewing half of them until their liquefied bodies and blood were enough to wash the others down her throat. They were her cake, her chocolate ice cream. Alcohol might have helped better, but the few wine cellars she could still spot had suffered too much destruction as that any search would reveal enough to get drunk on.

The tiny people suffered gracefully, only some mumbling prayers in small groups every now and then. They did not pray to be saved, she noted, but for their souls and sometimes for loved ones instead. It was a remarkably diverse crowd, which was something she had not noticed before. With some people she could see their occupations, just by their clothes and what was on them. A beer-bellied man with traces of flour in his hair and a white, dough-stained apron around his waste was a baker, and so forth. It wasn't that obvious with all of them but what was apparent was that all the women were working, just as much as the men.

When Laura tried to eat the baker, she just couldn't do it. She was too full. But when she set him down again, a few eyes darted up to her face in surprise. A moment later there was hope building in the boldest of them and she could hear many suck in their breaths and waiting still as mice in front of a cat.

That could have turned out intriguing.

The pleasant thought was suddenly disrupted however, when she heard a young voice shout: “Wooara!”

She turned to the tower keep and cursed herself. One might have thought that she could learn from her mistakes, but no. The top of the round, massive stone structure was full of men and Graham was at their helm, facing her with the tip of a dagger pressing to his throat.

Janna had expressly told her to keep him safe. The tiny cartographer was a valuable asset, notwithstanding occasional errors in navigation. To save Furio, Janna had opened the way into the tower again, which was where Graham's hostage-takers were coming from. Most of them were soldiers, but Laura could see a few others in civilian clothes as well, even though they were armed now.

Princess Branwyn was safely back at Conchobair Castle. Reo was marching over some men to make prisoners for Laura to eat in the morning. Graham had been alone, and just as with the Mad Lioness, this outcome seemed foreseeably certain.

“Do not do this.” She sighed tiredly.

The one holding the dagger was a rough-looking surcoat with a leather cap on his head. He clenched his teeth in defiance, revealing how hideously black they were. She couldn't see any officers, no knights or anything like that, but she didn't know whether that was good or bad.

She didn't dare to move, waiting instead for them to address her. In any given situation there was usually some bold-faced fucker who ceased that opportunity. Something seemed to have emboldened all of these men, however, and behind them she saw the white flag of surrender being lowered and the town's colours being displayed once more.

Graham shouted something but Laura didn't understand what it was. His disability made his speech near incomprehensible.

“Shut up!” The man behind him snarled, but made no effort to add anything to Laura.

None of it seemed to be leading anywhere.

“I suppose you want me to leave your city.” She finally offered, lying. “That's what I call a lucky coincidence! I have eaten my fill, even if I wanted I couldn't devour you, just ask this baker. I didn't eat you, baker, did I?”

The beer-bellied man did not respond but surely his presence would suffice to prove the truth of her words. As for the others on the market square, they looked as curious and uncertain about this new development as Laura was.

“Well, you can't save your city now.” She went on when no one spoke to her, gesturing around. “We had our fun with it. It's done. I can offer you your lives, however. Wouldn't you like to see your loved ones again, or...you know...at least the ones we didn't smash?”

She wasn't trying to unnerve them or play with them as much as wanting to maintain the upper hand. If she could rub in their faces how powerful she was, perhaps they would feel pressured into accepting a bad deal. But any deal in this current scenario was a bad one, for all parties involved. If truth be told, Laura did not really see a way out.

The gates to the tower were opened and more men walked out. In total it had contained roughly a hundred again, making for a splendid breakfast if only she hadn't been so dumb.

“I'm sorry I didn't protect you.” She felt like Graham should know before his death. “I should have taken you to the castle. I'll never forget how you read maps for us, I promise.”

That was a lie, but he couldn't know that. She could have ended this farce then, but in her estimation waiting what they would do was just as good. A belch escaped her when the mass of people she had eaten shifted in her belly.

Finally, there was movement. To allow Reo to enter the city with his men, Laura had created a breach by dragging her foot through the wall. It raised the question why she had remembered to do that rather than protecting Graham, but more importantly it provided the tiny people with somewhere to go.

And they went, in loose, long column, eyeing her anxiously. When people atop the tower saw, they followed, clearing the deck once more. That seemed to confuse the dagger man.

“You're not going anywhere.” Laura addressed him when he wanted to make off.

The people on the marketplace saw their chance though and went running into retreat, cheering elatedly. It must have seemed like a miracle to them.

As much as Laura tortured her brain, she still could not see any way out. Janna would probably hate her even more than she must now, she thought. At the same time she could not fail to notice that this, precisely this, was the downside of having tiny allies.

“You're not going!” She enforced her statement when the hostage-taker made another move towards the stairwell, wrenching Graham with him.

Finally he growled and replied to her.

“I will go!” He insisted, his voice gruff as raw leather. “I'll let him go when you're out of sight!”

“You won't.” She sighed. “There is no reason for you to let him go then. You can cut his throat or sell him to some lord to use as leverage against me.”

The plan of forcing an unfavourable deal had failed miserably from the start, but that did not surprise her.

“How about honour?!” The soldier had the audacity to suggest.

The slimy way he did it betrayed the fact that he wasn't a gifted actor.

Laura made her look speak volumes: “I think we both know, little one, that your honour is as black as your teeth. If we went by honour you could take my offer and give the boy to me. I'll spare you, I promise.”

“No!” He shouted right in Graham's ear. “You'd turn around and kill me!”

“You see the pickle then.” She replied flatly. “I can't be sure of what you do and you can't be sure of what I do. If I let you go I'll never see my little friend again, and if you give him to me I will squash you out of existence just for spite.”

“Then, err...” The realization paled him. “Then there's no way I'm leaving here alive?!”

“None that I can see.” Laura laughed bitterly. “Your friends are escaping, but we both know you won't. Didn't figure yourself a martyr, did you?”

He clearly hadn't but before he could reply there were sounds of action coming from the breach in the town wall. Riders came pouring in, just as the men inside wanted to exit, and they crashed into each other in brief but horrible battle. Many of the Winhaller soldiers had thrown their weapons away so as not to be burdened with them in their escape. That seemed to be a general theme with them, throwing away their weapons.

Reo Conchobair's men were vastly outnumbered but immediately had the upper hand, driving the Winhallers back into the other direction. Of riders there were but a dozen and still it was enough as they charged, hitting the thinly spread force of runners unexpectedly. Men on foot poured in behind them, a mix of bows and spears, making for another thirty or so.

Suddenly, someone on the tower screamed and Laura turned her head again. Graham had bit the man in his dagger hand during the distraction and was now racing like a maniac for the crenels.

“Wooara!” He shouted out her name in desperation.

Laura saw too late what he was doing. She moved too late as well. The tiny cartographer with the horridly half-hanging face set a foot atop a merlon and jumped to freedom. Laura jumped as well, too late. Graham soared through the air like an eagle. Then he fell like a stone.

If she hadn't been sitting with her stupid arse planted firmly on the ground she would have been able to catch him, but not like this. His body hit the ground with a crushing sound, a gout of blood exploding from his head.

“Fuck!”

The hostage-taker stopped to look at her. Laura knew immediately what to do with him. She'd ask Reo Conchobair if he had someone in his castle who would torture this man to death for her. She herself was too big, too strong to exert a prolonged torment. What she had done to the Mad Lioness had had great effects in terms of deterioration and suffering but if truth be told it was simply too bothersome to keep up with, plus she didn't want this one's black teeth anywhere near her private parts.

But this revenge would be denied to her as well. The man saw his prize lost and took the coward's way out, cutting his own throat where he stood. Laura knelt and probed Graham for signs of life. The boy was dead. Now both sides of his face looked the same; hideous. She pried his leather bag from him that she knew contained the all-important maps. Then, as if to wash the youngest of her failures from existence, or as if to hide it, she stepped onto his body and crushed it flat. The bag went into her pocket where it vanished because it was so small.

“Take prisoners!” Reo Conchobair shouted from his horse. “Take them alive!”

Until then his men had left only more corpses in their wake but when the fleeing Winhallers were confronted with Laura towering before them once more they just threw themselves to the ground and yielded.

Then it was all over. Those who still ran were caught by riders and marched back to the tower where the beaten prisoners huddled together and sat placidly.

Laura should have felt even more miserable than before but decided that she had to look ahead and try to make the best of it. Being moody and grumpy wouldn't put Graham back together. She had his maps and in time she'd surely find someone that could read them for her. In the meantime she had two new little friends who were a million times cooler than the bookish, frightened little mapmaker.

Princess Branwyn was a bitch. There was no way around that, but Laura had much more experience in dealing with her kind than the nerdy type Graham had been. Reo seemed pragmatic enough. There was no way he knew as much about geography but he fought absolutely fiercely and was handsome to boot.

“So, this is the Hall of the Swordking, huh?” She asked, making conversation.

“Aye!” Conchobair looked up at her proudly. “This is where my father proclaimed his rebellion!”

“Well then, shouldn't you say something, a great speech about revenge and ending what your father started or whatever? It's your last chance. I will flatten it after this.”

The idea seemed to frighten him and he brooded for a moment. Laura almost expected him to urge her let the tower stand for sentimental value, but then he said: “Men, loot the darn thing! Tear out everything we can sell!”

And so they did. It was a glad tiding that neither Laura nor Janna had crushed the building because it contained the single greatest collection of wealth in all of Winhall. The town had not been an excessively rich one, but the treasury housed two chests of golden coins, five chests of silver, collections of silverware such as platters and goblets and then a huge jewelled golden chalice as well. The men took out portraits and tapestries, and apparently some gemstones too small for Laura to see clearly and a good stock of food supplies and weapons.

By the end they had so much plunder that all prisoners were overladen and Laura would have to lend a hand to help with the logistics.

When finally it came to smashing the tower she wasn't exactly sure how to go about it. It had about forty centimetres in diameter and reached roughly up to her hip, making it about as big as a small as some public waste bins on Earth.

She kicked its foundation, thinking that it would crumble and fall to pieces but while part of the grey stone wall disintegrated in a cloud of dust all she really got for her effort was a sharp pain in her toe.

“Outch!”

That angered her, but it served as a valuable lesson as well. Higher up, the walls were thinner. When she applied enough pressure there she could push them in like a gingerbread house. The floors were wood and gave in even easier, like edible paper.

The top was all storage, plundered treasury, granaries and armouries. Then came quarters, furnished better or worse according to their size and purpose. It was all in chaos from the looting.

At the middle of the structure she could punch through the wall with her fist and so she turned the tower into her punching bag until it was reduced to something she could trample into the ground until it was levelled. The lower part had been one great, round hall with a huge round table to match that was made cunningly from several elements that could be dragged towards the walls and create a great space in the middle.

It was almost sad to smash it all to bits, but that, she recognized, was part of her nature now. She did not create, not unless she spent a lot of time and effort on a place such as Lauraville and even that turned out into some semblance of a prison or concentration camp.

“You know what,” she told Reo when they were making their agonizingly slow journey back to the castle, “if I can, somehow, I'd like to help you create a better Albernia than it ever was.”

It was almost too dark to see his face, but the tone of his voice said everything. It was another rabbit hole.

“Err, I'm not a genius at statecraft, but seems to me our kingdom will take decades to recover from what you mean to do. It was never quite the same since Havena left us, and we rejoiced to hear that we had it back. Now you mean to destroy it and kill everyone there. And so much else...”

“I don't want to, really.” She shrugged sullenly. “I mean, sure, smashing thirty odd thousand of you little shrimps sounds great, but I'm alone now and that's always making things more complicated. Plus it's...meh, it's probably too many to enjoy in one sitting, if you know what I mean.”

It would have been cool to be able to see his face then, but she couldn't.

“You're a servant of evil, Reo Conchobair!” A prisoner shouted.

“And come morning, you're fodder!” A soldier replied, causing a queer overall merriment and laughter.

It made Laura ask herself whether she was rooting for the bad guys here, quickly followed by the realization that anyone on her side was a bad guy by proxy of the evil she embodied. That made her grin. She couldn't see which of the prisoners had been talking or else she would have picked him out and tortured him to death on the spot.

It wasn't the first time tiny people took that queer pride in her. To them, not getting killed was very likely a miraculous experience. She could have wiped them all out with two or three steps, gone to the castle and masturbated with the princess before eating her. But she chose not to, because being entirely alone was boring. In this instance, though, she was rooting for an almost completely powerless bunch. Reo had no fiefs beyond his fortress and no men beside his handful. For Princess Branwyn ni Bennain could be said even less, having naught beside her claim and title.

“Who could ever tell you what to do?” Reo Conchobair asked.

“A whole bunch of people, actually.” Laura admitted without thinking about it.

She could have packaged that a lot smarter.

“Well, not so many people, but my giant friend, for example, and for now apparently the Horasian army. Food for work is our arrangement.”

He did not reply immediately.

“So, did the Horasians send you to Thorwal?”

“Uh, no.” She said. “We just, sort of, ended up there. They sent Janna after me. How do you know about that?”

“We heard that tale.” He replied vaguely. “Is it true that you destroyed it?”

“Well, we,” she took a breath of air, recalling that episode, “we spent some time at the capital and then we, well, we went around for a while and flattened everything. Yes, there's not much left of it, but Hjalmar Boyfucker torched the capital and everything that lays south of it before we came back. Then he went into Nostria, but I am guessing you heard about that part too.”

“Aye.” Reo sucked in his breath. “So it is true.”

“It's not what I have in mind for Albernia.” Laura consoled him, laughing. “Although maybe I could.”

It was never hurtful to remind the little people of how powerful she was; how they were all still breathing only because she allowed them to. The terrible hunger on the way back down from Thorwal's north had made her forget, but now she remembered again. She was a goddess, to them anyway.

“Then don't destroy Havena. We all stand to gain much more if you don't. Horas as well.”

That would suit Laura greatly. Goddess or no, doing a city of more than thirty thousand people alone was a prospect that frightened her, especially since it had been Horasian until recently. Her shirt had been patched up by the Thorwalsh and some masterful craftsmanship, but she could still see where the Horasian artillery had once set her on fire. If they could do it again and only slightly worse, that was unthinkable.

But if the city was as important as Reo said it was, then she'd have go there and enter it anyway.

“Tell me about the city.” She said, instead of giving answer to his suggestion.

The way was still far yet, made so by her companions' tiny, short legs. It would have gone quicker if she had gathered them in groups of ten and brought them over on her hand, but she didn't want that. She had to get the measure of the enemy she was to attack and well weigh her options.

Her question did not garner her many useful news though. She had known that Havena was a teaming trade hub by the sea. On the other hand did she not remember hearing about the marshes before, stretching far and wide through an enormous river delta. That would make things mucky.

Also had she not known that part of Havena was underwater, albeit that that part was only inhabited by fish. Within the flooded paths lay many islands and spits of land, connected by dikes on which men could walk. So not only would Laura get muddy all over but she was likely going to get soaking wet as well, all in all not a great outlook given the weather change. It was cold, and just now it was starting to rain again.

That was the time when she discovered that she had forgotten to take her things with her, so she had to double back and get them, her blanket and the dildo being the only two things she had left. Both of them were important. It took near forever in the almost pitch black dark, but when she was back at the castle she found that the procession of tiny men had only just arrived.

There was little other to do than sleep then and she was well tired enough to do so, hoping that her mind wouldn't make her dwell on her failures for too long. To allow Reo and his men to exit and enter again she had reopened the castle earlier by removing the rubble from the tunnel that she had blocked by smashing the gatehouse under her foot. The portcullis was a twisted heap of metal now, leaving the castle without gates to bar.

To remedy that, she decided to sleep with her back leaning against the rock on which the castle stood. If anyone wanted to enter and make three of her follies then they'd have to move her nine thousand something tons out of the way first. She'd have to be more cautious from now on, as bitter as that was going to be.

She had almost drifted off to sleep when she could hear voices, echoing down the glade in which she lay, the one created by the avalanche when she had crushed the gatehouse. To her surprise, she found herself privy to a conversation she was probably not meant to hear.

“Will we go through with it?” Reo Conchobair's voice asked.

It was strained. He was a realist and this must have seemed all terribly surreal to him.

Branwyn answered dreamily: “Yes! She'll give us everything we ever wanted!”

“And do you want me?” He asked next, terribly hinting.

“Oh, you'll do.” She replied in a way that suggested it wasn't love for him that made her saying it.

Then Reo changed his tone: “I think I might be your half-brother though.”

She laughed amiably: “I'm not one of your father's bastards! But speaking of them, do you think you can rally them to our cause? Will they follow you?”

“Oh, yes. My father had an unequalled gift for inspiring loyalty.” He replied confidently before a pause. “Other than them, however, I fear we are rather friendless.”

Branwyn seemed unconcerned and made a jest: “They say your handsome father did sire half an army.”

“Yes, but what's half an army against the power of Nordmarken?”

“The wizard said we could summon her for help; and the other one. I really hope Hagrobald sends us his best army and I hope I'm there to see it being ground to pulp.”

Reo sighed: “I do not wish such upon my worst enemy. There is no honour in the way they do it. Like stepping on ants.”

“And with all the ease of it.” Branwyn cautioned him. “The gods have answered my prayers. They sent them to me to claim my birth right and take revenge on them all.”

He scoffed: “Birthright?! Law makes you the king's cousin. It is only by virtue of his fleeting fertility that you are anywhere near the succession.”

“I'm second in line!” She snapped, bitchy as ever. “Do not forget yourself!”

There was a pause to cool the heat.

“In any case,” Reo said after a while, “there are better ways to do this. If she would rid us of Finnian and turned that bastard Bragon Fenwasian into a tapestry but rallied Havena for us rather than destroying it then we could...”

“The Nameless can have Havena,” Branwyn cut him off coldly, “so long as I can have the rest.”

“We need allies, though!” Reo insisted. “Without forces, Nordmarken's path is free! They will march through and vanquish us if none of the lords do the deed for them first. And they will, likely, seeing as we have no power!”

“I will leave the military aspects of it to you.” Branwyn argued. “But I am willing to throw our every last peasant at our enemies. Marshal as many of them as you can.”

War and fighting was clearly Reo Conchobair's area of expertise, so he advised her: “Rabble will not stand when they are not backed up by trained troops. I have barely any and what little is left of Winhall's on the morrow shall become gruel. Other standing banners will not follow us easily, not unless we can guarantee such things as pay, integrity and survival. Once you are queen things might turn out different, but before that happens she will have crushed Ortis, Honingen and Bredenhag, not to mention all the villages and all trained men at and between all these places. And Havena! You'll be the ruler of a contested graveyard.”

“We will.” She corrected him sharply. “And it will be but half a graveyard. More than half the kingdom is left intact, as you well know. Are not the Abilachter Riders famed throughout the empire?”

“Famed for turning heel at the Arvepass and being sent to the slaughter as a punishment. Still, the four squadrons at Abilacht would be dear to us, if Finnian has not called them to Havena. Two hundred horse. That a force can turn the tide of battle. But how to win them? Abilacht belongs to Hongingen, belongs to the Galahans, who are your enemies. Besides there are many more squadrons that will end up under her feet.”

Laura was listening closely, taking notes in her mind. It was starting to get detailed and horribly confusing again, but there was no understanding it unless she tried. It might all be secondary in the end, but if she didn't want to get played she had to pay attention. She had heard lot's of useful things already. Janna might be proud after all, if she turned this into a giant coup for Horas.

What Branwyn lacked in military understanding she was clearly able to make good on politics: “The Galahans have blood ties to the Crumolds who rule Bredenhag and have blood ties to Nordmarken. Count of Abilacht is Cullyn ui Niamad who's house has always been loyal to mine. Once my cousin is dead, they will follow me. Add to that my claim and the combined legacy of ambitions we fulfil. The Sword King's son a king in truth at last and the niece of Invher ni Bennain queen of a free and independent Albernia, or that's how we will sell it. Once my cousin is dead, the kingdom shall be ours within a fortnight.”

A fortnight meant two weeks, which was way more time than Laura had. She was supposed to meet Janna up north at Joborn after dealing with Havena. But, surely, Reo and Branwyn could do things like building an army while she wasn't there. The mills of the tinies worked slowly, mostly because it took them so bloody long to get anywhere physically.

There was another pause in which Reo Conchobair must have been thinking.

Then he said: “All fine and reasonable, but none of it any use. By what she will do to this kingdom on the morrow, half of all strength and perhaps even more of the nobility will be wasted. This is blood on our hands; kin slaying, treason, murder and only the churches know what else. Granted, we were given little choice, but that is the last question any of the bereaved families will ask.”

That was the last thing she heard. Branwyn must have stormed off in anger, or something like that. It didn't matter though. Laura knew what to do to make this a success.