Dear Diary,

I'm not sure which I hate more, the dumb assholes who wind up in charge because they're bigger and badder than anybody else, who inevitably wind up cracking my windshield and ruining my wipers, or the smart assholes who wound up in charge for the same reason, but recognize a windshield when they see it looming out of the fog.

Okay, so I definitely felt some kinda way about Jarl Swanson's new lil buddy, but it's not like I'd told them all to stay still before he ran. Hell, even if I'd seen him, what would I have said? 'Hey, get back here, don't run in terror! I might want to kill you a lot later!' Like I said, I don't want to be just another, bigger shitter on top of the shit pyramid. The problem isn't who's on top of the shit pyramid, it's the existence of the shit pyramid itself.

Also, we all know how much I like food and sex, and I've just kinda ruined my own appetite for either with the mental image of the shit pyramid.

Kitten?

Yes, Goof?

No scheiss fetishes. Hard pass.

Not that I had any intention to explore something so revolting, which I did not realize existed until just now. Thank you for that. But your boundary is noted, and will not be one I press. You owe me a Driver's chocolate cake.

You got it, Kitten.

So Swanson didn't have any TV dinners. Technically. What with the whole lack of TVs. Of course, once the local Thralls dragged a couple big tables from one side of the room and set them up in a squared off horseshoe and some older women who seemed to be in charge of food brought out plates, it was all I could do not to laugh my ass off. Wooden plates. Rectangular wooden plates. Rectangular wooden plates with five deep depressions carved into them to keep the different foods separate when they brought them out to us.

I think it put me in a good mood, or at least put a smile on my face while I ate. Some flatbread. Not soft stuff like pita or naan, but sorta crunchy. Unfortunately, not toast crunchy, but vaguely stale or overcooked crunchy. Some kind of root vegetable I didn't recognize, cubed and boiled until it mashed pretty good. Had some salt on it, but could have used butter. Looking around as I ate, I suspected soft food was popular due to a general lack of complete dentition. The bread puzzled me when I realized that, until I noticed everybody else using it to scoop up the stew. Or really, soak up the stew until the meaty solid bits could be finger fooded. The bread wasn't half bad that way. Another part of the tray had a mix of peas and mushrooms and some other something I couldn't identify. The final bit had what looked and smelled like cod and tasted like week old gym socks.

I really wasn't all that eager to do the finger food thing though, because once we all sat down to eat, I realized that I'd never really had a chance to clean up after my fight with Karlson. It said something about how much pureeing it took to put that bastard down that when I looked, I saw no evidence of my trip through Olaf's alimentary canal, because the blood had literally washed it off. I still couldn't see an inch of me that wasn't covered in dried blood, though. "Uh, do you guys have a spoon I could use?"

One of Swanson's Warriors let out a really nasty chuckle, then half belched out, "just like a woman!"

Most of the other Warriors, along with Swanson himself, watched my reaction. The only exception was the dude who'd run from Karlson's place, who had the best 'shit, I'm not associated with these people' look on his face that I'd seen since getting my ass Isekai'd to Phileo. I tilted my head, popped my eyes really big, then reached down and pulled The Dress' top into 'full wardrobe malfunction exposure' mode, which really showed off my fake-tan-made-out-of-blood lines. Then I jumped to my feet, swept her skirt even further to the side and looked down at the utter mess that had congealed in my pubes. Didn't have to fake the slight surprise and disgust in my voice when I shouted out, "holy shit! I AM a woman!" I was polite enough to leave the 'you dumbass' part unspoken, although I did follow up with, "Oh, hey, that must be why everybody says my wife and I are Sapphic!" My first shout had gotten a round of laughter started, mostly at the expense of dumbass, who looked pissed. My comment about Saffron's Sapphic Seraglio got me almost an entire table full of interested looks, so I put a finger to my mouth, ignored the faint sour taste of the iron, and said, "I wonder if our Maenad makes it more or less Sapphic?"

Never saw so many dudes all shrivel in unison. Points to Swanson for maintaining full 'still politely interested' face through the whole damn thing. Of course, mister moron shoved himself to his feet and said, "no woman laughs at Bjorn!"

I stared at his crotch before looking him in the eye and saying, "Well, of course not. If I can't tell it's there behind your kilt when you're this worked up? That's not funny, that's just sad."

As Bjorn started over the table at me, a Loki-sized hand grabbed him by the shoulder and slammed him back into his seat. A Loki-sized Jotnar in an unpleasantly familiar dress stood behind Bjorn. Swanson said, "thank you, High Priest Gustav."

He is indeed a High Priest of Odin.

Thanks for the confirm, Boss. You're the best.

I know.

"I would not wish to fight against someone we failed to honor guest rights for."

Swanson just nodded, and a moment later one of the women handed me a wooden spoon. Nowhere near as nice as the Academy ones, but at least I didn't wind up sucking down Karlson blood and Olaf shit with my meal. Honestly, after that the meal went pretty well. Not a patch on Marie's cooking, but if I held that as my standard for edibility I'd wind up eating nothing but Marie from now until the end of time. You know what I mean. Although the only real reason I didn't intend to do that was Saffron, so I totally get why you might have gotten confused. When a bunch of scantily clad younger Thralls came out to do some really shitty smexy dancing in the middle of the table area, I felt a little guilty. Mostly because of the whole 'slavery' thing. I'm married, not dead, and if Saffron is fine with terrain as long as she gets the full three dee experience, I can't see why she'd get pissed at me enjoying the scenery.

The meal got a lot less fun when the young men started doing slapstick, because that's when the women started moving right along the inner edge of the table. Don't get me wrong, the view got nicer. Mostly. I tried not to think about them all having full sets of teeth and big old non-saggy tits meant. Not my place. Yet.

Then one of the dudes reached over the table, snagged one of the women, and pulled her into his lap. She kept a smile on her face, but any woman born could spot it as fake. While he pawed her with one hand, he fed her with the other one. Mostly leftover bits, but nothing that looked like straight up gristle or shit like that. The way she snapped at the food combined with the ribs I saw when he pawed her blouse open kept my mouth shut, because interrupting just meant she didn't get to eat. Fuckers. I watched, getting more and more ready to fuckin' go right now on these goddamned rapist assholes, as each of them snagged their Thrall of choice.

Do not, Daughter.

The. Fuck. Not. Boss?

Guest rights, Daughter. You are bound by them until tomorrow.

Oh, like that would debuff me enough to stop me?

He paused. No. It would not. But none of the Thralls themselves would trust you after that.

"Fuck!"

I did not expect the general reaction to be hearty laughter and the slapstick guys tossing two of their number toward my corner of the table. I looked around, and realized that at least a few of the claimed Thralls weren't faking their smiles. Or maybe they just found my outburst funny. That's when one of the two guys dropped to the floor, the other climbing atop him, clearly exposing himself, even through the acrobat's clothing, as a her. Shorter than Saffron. Looking like a better endowed Siobhan. Also trying really hard not to look at my plate.

Without looking, I pointed at Bjorn. "Nobody deserves to be sad on a feast night. Send him away, he insulted a guest."

Bjorn might have wanted to protest, but a size fuck you hand picked him up like a toddler, then dragged him off and tossed him into one of the side rooms. Swanson looked at me and, without batting an eye, said, "fair. Generous, even, should that be the only price you place upon him."

"Yeah. We'll talk about that tomorrow." I paused. "Nah. Fuck it, after this place is mine tomorrow, I gotta leave for the next Jarl's place. If you're smart enough to surrender tomorrow, you teach him some manners." I paused again as the rest of the Warriors watched Swanson.

"Should you indeed best me and leave me alive, I will gladly act as your executioner."

"Didn't say kill him. If you kill 'em, they don't learn nothin'. Also, the dead don't suffer."

He just nodded. "Understood."

Right about then the first Warrior got up from the table, tossing his Thrall over his shoulder as he did. I hadn't been watching, but she dropped the tray to the table, and by her face she'd been licking it clean. The rest of them started leaving right about then. Some of them carried their Thralls, a few led them by the hand. One asshole yanked his off her feet, and she stumbled all the way to the side room. Another guy straight up grabbed his Thrall by the thigh as he stood, then let his grip slide to her ankle before dragging her off.

I closed my eyes and couldn't help but breathe out an infuriated, "tomorrow."

Swanson, who'd had one of the better looking cooking staff come over and start cleaning up his plate, said, "pardon?"

"Tomorrow you make sure every one of these girls has a knife. A sharp one. And you teach them how to use it. And you teach that asshole," I nodded to drag boy, who'd just closed the door behind himself, barely missing catching his Thrall in it, "to not be an asshole."

"Should you win."

Fuck. How the fuck was I supposed to get my righteous fury on? Oh, I was pissed. Real fucking close to uncontrolled rage. But I didn't want that. Didn't need it. That's when I noticed Swanson watching me fume. He knew exactly what he was doing. Pissing me off just as hard as I'd done to Karlson. I froze, uncertain how to respond, until a tiny hungry whimper sounded from across the table in front of me.

I looked at the poor girl still standing on the jester's back, took a deep breath, let it flow out, taking my anger with it, and held out one hand to her. "What's your name?"

"Hilde." She whispered, looking uncertainly at my hand. Then she leaned over, one knee on the table, like she was trying to fill my hand with tit or something. I reached out, took her by the waist, which my hands spanned completely, and lifted her gently over the table. I sat her on my skirted side, put one arm around her at shoulder level, giving her something to lean against. Then, as Swanson nodded to me, stood, and took his cook by the hand to lead her off, I fed her the rest of my dinner.

When she took the spoon and scraped the tray clean, Odin's boy walked over to stand at conversational distance. "I expected you to object to the customs of the house."

"Oh. I do. But I'm not giving you the satisfaction of being a poor guest. Those customs, though? Change. Tomorrow."

He smiled. "So confident. I would almost look forward to the fight did my lord not tell me not to." After a pause his smile turned cruel. "So, for the night you'll follow our customs?" I didn't get it until he glanced at Hilde.

I swear to fuckin' Loki, I almost ended that asshole and every other privileged cock haver in the longhouse right then and there.

Daughter.

I said fuckin' almost, Boss. Fuck off.

Before I could do anything, Hilde whispered, "not for me, lady. I... will live."

I turned to her. "You like women, Hilde?" She shrugged. "Fine." I stood, lifting her to sit on one forearm as I did, her arms and legs clutching at me as I rose.

A moment after she caught herself, she kinda melted across my side. "So strong."

That dude loses his dick tomorrow. If he says one more word, I'm searing the hole shut.

I'm proud of your self-control, Daughter. Also, though you need it not, I approve.

I walked for the one open door. I stepped through as Hilde seemed to be working herself up and closed it behind me. Then I stepped her to my rooms at the Academy.

Marie sat tailor fashion on the floor, knitting, and didn't even bat an eye at my appearance. I looked at her, at myself, and at Hilde. "Bath?"

"Please and thank you, Marie."

Saffron spun in her chair, raised an eyebrow, but before she could speak Isnomi grabbed Mister Kraken, hopped off her bed, and walked for our bedroom shaking her head. "Where are you going, Menace?" She spun around, looking more than a little surprised. I set Hilde, who'd frozen mid-writhe when we arrived, onto her feet, gave her a little mid-back shove towards Isnomi, and said, "I need to talk to your mom. Introduce Hilde to your brothers and Mister Kraken while we wait for Marie to get back."

A minute later Saffron and I stood in our bedroom. She'd held my hand while we walked in here, but dropped it after the door closed and hadn't touched me since then. "The moment I saw the two of you, I half expected to be observing you Just Happening to someone smaller, younger, and fairer than I tonight."

"I. Don't. Fuck. Slaves."

She stepped up to me, still holding herself the slightest distance from me, except one hand she reached up to cup my cheek. "I know, love. I know. I didn't think you would." Then she smiled up at me. "She is pretty, though, isn't she?"

"Not the point, Kitten."

She shook her head, her smile turning fond. "Oh, I know. But unless I don't know my wife, she won't be a slave by this time tomorrow."

I couldn't tell if she was joking to try and defuse the anger I'd just realized I still carried. "Yeah, she'll just be a poor as shit former slave with no skills except really shitty erotic dance. Not like she'd believe she's got the option to say 'no'."

Saffron's smile got a little less amused. "She might not, no. But she also isn't likely to have many better prospects than 'second Mistress of the two most powerful women in the world', is she?."

"Gah. You're serious about this?"

She shrugged. "Not really. Not enough to push you if you're not comfortable. Even if it is odd for me to find someone I'm taller than without shapeshifting." She paused, but before I could say anything, continued. "Would I make you uncomfortable to save someone? I don't know. Would I make myself uncomfortable to let you do so? In a heartbeat."

Somehow that drained the rage right out of me. Only to have it spark back up when I stepped to her, arms outstretched, and she stepped back away from me. "Why? If you're not pissed at me, why won't you touch me?"

She shook her head, "because, my love, my Goddess, my Goof, you smell like shit."

That finally did it. I snickered, snorted, and by the time Marie got back with her cart loaded with bath supplies, I'd nearly pissed myself laughing. I'd mentally apologized to The Dress, popped her onto her hook below the Altar, giving her the cleaning whammy as I did, so when Marie, Saffron, and I went back into Isnomi's room, I walked in with nothing on save my liberal coating of Karlson.

Isnomi popped up from where she and Hilde had been kneeling next to Vulcan's case. "Baff time!"

"Yeah, Mama and Hilde are going before you, Menace." I looked over to Hilde, only to see her half naked already, staring at me, her eyes tracing my scars. "Yeah, I'd let you go first, but you didn't get dipped in Jotnar shit. Sorry."

She stared at me as she dropped her skimpy skirt into a pile around her feet, nothing but confusion showing in her face and posture. Any nascent lady bit salivation dried up the instant I noticed her pubes. Thralls didn't strike me as the sorts to afford razors, which meant that impressive boobage or not, that was not 'stubble' so much as 'new growth'. I just smiled at her, trying to keep her confusion from turning to fear, then stepped into the tub to let Marie get to work. Nothing but a bath and concurrent rubdown tonight, what with Isnomi waiting in line, but when I stood post-hair combing and looked at Hilde, her eyes kept darting from tub to Marie and back like a wild thing. "Hey, Menace? You go next, okay?"

Hilde blinked at that, and as Isnomi tossed Mister Kraken on the bed and dove for the bath, she swayed toward me. I shook my head. "Sorry, Hilde. You're really sweet and all, but now that I'm not literally reeking of shit? You need a bath."

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She couldn't quite bring herself to look at Marie bathing Isnomi, but she whispered, "after?"

I shook my head again. "I don't fuck slaves, Hilde. I know, I know, guest rights, all that good shit. But I don't. Hard pass. But I don't want you to get in trouble either. So tonight?" I couldn't help it, my inner Trickster Bitch reared up. "You're sleeping with me." She looked really confused. "And my wife Saffron." Her eyes got a little bigger, but with the distraction, her fear leaked out. "And my concubine Marie." I nodded to Marie, and Hilde reacquired all the tension in the world. "And our daughter Isnomi." Now she just looked entirely weirded out with just a touch of terrified. Not really surprised at that last with Isnomi and I in the room; nobody as poor as Hilde would have instincts bad enough not to be just a little terrified locked in the room with the two of us. "Sleeping, Hilde. You know, that thing you do when you lie down in bed and close your eyes and some dude isn't trying to stick his cock in you? Where you black out and wake up six to nine hours later feeling vaguely less shitty? Sleeping. No sex. Not fucking. Sleep. Snoring may be involved." I glanced at Saffron and Isnomi. "Check that, snoring will definitely be involved."

I watched as it sank in. "Truly?"

"Yeah. Truly." Her tears leaked out, and I held my arms out. She tensed, but stepped to me, and when I did nothing but pull her head to my shoulder and hold her, she just bawled her eyes out. She was still sobbing when Marie collected her for her bath. Yeah, I know I said she stank. She did. But I'm not the kind of bitch that will let somebody have a breakdown alone just because they've got little B.O. By the time Marie finished bathing her, she'd fallen asleep, and Marie managed to work all the tangles out of her cornsilk hair before Isnomi and I bundled into bed around her.

As I lay there listening to Marie bathe Saffron, I thought, Sorry, Kitten. Didn't mean to adopt another one today.

Please, My Goddess, do not.

Huh? Why?

I am not that strong.

It took me a second. Really?

Truly, love.

She's what, twelve?

Had I had the opportunity she has at twelve, I would have jumped at it. Had I had it at the Bag equivalent of nine I would have done so. I will not do this thing, because despite all I know of the world telling me it is natural and right? You find it abhorrent. Should it be your true wish, we will of course take her in as a daughter. But please, I beg of you, do not test me this way.

I shook my head, softly so as not to disturb either of the kids sleeping in my arms. What the hell do I do with her, then? Just dump her back in that pit? I mean, yeah, tomorrow it's my pit, and I'm gonna try fixing it, but I don't want to just, I dunno, dump her there after this.

Apprentice her to the Maids. To the Smiths. To Siobhan. To the Drivers. Foster her with one of our many friends with the means to feed such a tiny mouth. Hell, foster her with Larry.

Larry.

He likes brunettes. I barely managed to hold in my laughter until she said, but please, do not tell me where. I would even ask you to place her where I might not find her again, save she seeks us out of her own accord once she is grown.

Holy shit, you're serious.

Duh. She splashed water as she slapped her hands down on it.

Okay, okay, I'm just a little weirded that you're so into her.

I'm not 'into her', love. Oh, I might be, should she wind up growing into someone of interest. This? This is purely physical. As I once heard you joke, 'neuron activation achieved'. I mean, seriously, didn't you get a look at her once Marie finished?

I guess she checks all the boxes? If you like big titty blondes? Do you like blondes? I'd ask about titties, but we both know that's yes. Are mine big enough? Do you want me blonde?

She snorted. Like I can avoid asking you for such simple trifles now. But as to blondes in general? I've grown up in a City where 'blonde' meant wealthy, powerful, clean, beautiful. Hell, 'fair' is used as a synonym for beauty.

Isn't it?

It literally means 'light in color', Goof.

Oh. Are you gonna have a problem sleeping tonight?

No moreso than I have these past two, with you being so... you... then not returning to claim your Hero's Reward as is right and proper.

I laughed at that, quieting when the two girls stirred. Soon after, Saffron and Marie joined us. Marie snuggled up on Hilde's far side, and I got a little bit of warm fuzzy when the girl snuggled into Marie's purring fur. Saffron spooned up behind me until I rolled, scooped her around to lie in the middle, facing me. "I trust you, Kitten. You've got something I don't, after all."

"What's that?"

"Self Control."

The next morning, after a night of Mimic frozen like a baby bird staring at a snake while Domnu kept searching the midden heap for something, I wound up even more warm and fuzzy, not to mention proud of our little Menace, when she led Hilde into the armoire, then led her out wearing an absolutely stunning simple white sheathe of a dress.

"Did you have your brother make that for her, Menace?"

"Yeth!"

"So proud of you!" I picked her up and snuggled her. When I set her down I turned to Marie. "I need you with us today, please."

Which is how, two hours before noon, the three of us popped onto Swanson's Green a couple dozen feet away from the village. Swanson, his High Priest, and all his Warriors stood there behind them. Swanson's Lizard Bois stood behind him, and when I turned to look, my three bois stood down at 'our' end of the Green. Of course Odin's peg boy stepped forward, big assed naginata in one hand like a staff, and pompously intoned, "you did not stay the night in our longhouse."

I whispered, "just go with it," as I threw one arm over Hilde's shoulder, copying the pose I'd seen so many guys take with their most recent conquest. The pose I'd been the object for a time or six back in Camden. "Yeah, my bed's bigger. Couldn't very well do sleeping with this one justice in that little pallet you guys call a bed."

He frowned at her. "Is this true? Did you sleep with Loki's Champion?"

"Yes, milord."

"And my Maenad." I nodded to Marie.

Before dipshit in dis dress could say anything, Hilde added, "and her Maenad, yes. And her wife." Then she earned extra special, 'fucking with assholes who need it to Loki's own standards' by blushing, looking at her feet with a 'I'm really trying not to admit how much I liked it' blush and smile and said, "and her daughter."

Boss?

Yes, Tabitha Diaz?

Let Antony and Marilyn know I'll need to talk with them about fostering Hilde this afternoon.

I felt his warm smile. Excellent choice, my Priestess High Above All Others.

Yeah, yeah, I know. You're the best.

I know.

Meanwhile Hilde was maybe getting a little too into her whole 'nascent sexuality budding right here on the Green' act, much to the consternation of High Priest Gustav and the obvious interest of the rest of Swanson's clowns. Except my once-and-future clown, who just stared at me in undisguised terror. I pulled her tight enough that she couldn't so much 'writhe' as 'gasp for air', pointed at mister terror-filled donut, and called, "You! What's your name?"

"Bo, Si... Ma'am."

"Okay, Bo. If you leave before I kick Swanson's ass, I will hunt you down, take off your kneecaps and elbows, then drop you into Lancaster House's tanning waste pit. If you leave after I kick Swanson's ass, I will actually get pissed off at you. Do we have an understanding?" His legs went out from under him, although he managed to drop into a tailor's seat. "I'll take that as a yes." I turned to Marie, peeled Hilde off me, and handed her over. Marie had none of my compunctions about wearing painted on Hilde as an accessory, although she put one arm around her before turning and sprinting for our end of the Green where my bois stood. I sighed, then chuckled at the thought that given impressionable ages and shit, I think I'd just given Hilde a whole muscle mommy thing. Screw it, neither of us did anything but give her a bath and a place to sleep, all the drool on her lips was her own doing.

I turned to Gustav. "Okay. Dickless-to-be. C'mon, I'm not gonna jump you while we're talking terms." He took one long step forward, and I stepped backward to maintain our distance. "Okay then. This is for my right to duel Jarl Swanson, right?"

Gustav nodded. "It is. Is the Green an acceptable venue?"

I shrugged. "Works for me. Because I promised my buddy George, if you surrender at any point before the Duel actually starts, you get off with a slap on the wrist. Okay, because you were such a colossal dick about Hilde last night, that slap'll be with your own cock after I slice it off, but I'll even give it back to you afterward. No such promises if you don't surrender."

He sucked at his teeth. "How droll. Don't know what else I expected from the Backbiter's lackey."

"Hey! I'm not just a lackey. I'm also his High Priestess and Daughter." He just rolled his eyes. "Okay then. First blood?"

"Hardly. But I can agree to accepting your surrender."

I smiled up at him. "Hey, cool! So, we stay on the Green, we fight until you surrender or I cut your dick off."

"Wait, wha..."

I steamrolled him, shouting "Bo! Throw a rock! We start when it hits."

While he spun, his eyes tracking for the stone Bo had thrown, I pulled out my swordstave and lit up both ends, extending the Blades until I figured they'd be long enough to slice off one of Gustav's thighs. I didn't bother looking for the rock. I watched his eyes, and the moment they twitched toward me, I leapt.

Gotta give him credit, for a big man he had enough quickness in him to get his big naginata looking spear in the way. Much to my surprise, it didn't go the way of all flesh when my Mana Blade hammered into it. He not only blocked me, he whipped the fuckin' thing around until my choices were 'get thrown backwards' or 'straddle his big stick'. I chose the path of least penetration and went sailing backwards, twisting to keep my eyes on him as he charged in pursuit, ready to smack me when my ballistic arc got close enough to the ground. Honestly? The way he lined his naginata up, it looked like he intended to bat me clean out of the Green.

I took a moment while in flight to ask the important questions. The fuck, Boss?

It appears Odin has blessed his staff to stop your Mana Blades.

Shit. Next you'll tell me his dress is blessed, too?

Now that I know what to look for, I can confidently tell you he has not. It appears he likes Gustav too much for that.

Huh?

Should he make Gustav's dress impenetrable, your only choice would be to attack his face.

Point.

When Gustav swung at me, the blade of his naginata moving faster than its own sound, I waited until he threw his weight into it, then Translocated to kick him in the thumb, spinning my swordstave so one blade sliced through his eyepatch's thong, while the other put a nice new scar above and below his eye.

What? He blinked and flinched.

Over the course of the next minute, I soaked up half a dozen doses of blunt force trauma, because apparently Gustav had finally decided to take me seriously. The man was fast. Really fast. Like, not Larry fast, I don't think? But the fact that I had to say 'I don't think he was as fast as the guy I couldn't see move' kinda summed it up. I pretty much had to stay inside his reach, and he used that to body check me, knee me, and elbow me as often as he could. Meanwhile I pondered out loud. "Red like roses? Nah. There's only one of you. I Burn? Maybe?" I landed on his hand again as he swung his naginata at me. "Are you a moron with a baseball bat?"

"What? What in Hel's name are you talking about?" He slapped at me with his other hand, only to get one of my Blades through his palm.

"Grabby grabby no!" Then I paused, balancing on the flat of his naginata's blade as he swung it. "Wait, are you into hair pulling? Like, from either end?" I Translocated behind him, grabbed two handfuls of hair, and dropped.

"OW! BITCH!" He leapt, intending to land on me back first, at which point I realized what I needed to do. Should have known from the moment I hit his eye, really. Fates finally giving me clues and shit and I ignore them. Such a dumb bitch.

I stepped to the far side of the Green from Gustav, shut down my swordstave's blades and slung it over my back, then stood upright, hands clasped in front of me. I know my voice, my singing voice especially, is like, the one thing that did not improve since I got here, but I'd discovered something two days ago, and was absolutely going to enjoy the shit out of it forever. Or until I got bored with it, y'know? "Mirror... tell me something..." Right about then the piano cut in, and I discovered that Apollo had a stupid good vocal range, managing to hit some bitchin' soprano notes as I slid a single long thin Mana Blade out of my right wrist.

For the next few seconds, it was all I could do to parry his naginata's strikes, and eventually he caught me with one that threw me through the air toward the edge of the Green. I spun in midair, Shaping, and bounced off the vertical Air Shield, using the reflected momentum to lunge at him. I left his sleeve fluttering, but didn't manage to tag his arm. His naginata came around, and again I barely managed to block it before he flung me across the Green. Another Air Shield, and I bounced toward him again, slicing through his other sleeve. Back and forth I bounced, until after I'd torn half a dozen rents in his dress, he brought his naginata straight down from above as I flew past. A hastily Shaped Air Shield bounced me back into the air, but his bare fist connected with my face about twelve feet into my ballistic flight. I tumbled backward, feeling the blood dripping from above my left eye.

I stood, smiling at him, not even caring when I went off script long enough to say, "last chance to say goodbye to your one eyed wonder!"

He came at me, maybe even faster than Karlson had with his supersonic charge. I didn't hear him coming, only saw his naginata blade coming down to cut me clean in half.

It hit my Mana Blade where I held it horizontally, six inches above my head. And bounced, thrown backward by his own Mimicked Strength and Agility. As he stumbled backward, I grabbed at the ground, threw up an Air Shield under my feet, then launched myself at him. I bounced from shield to shield, slicing apart his dress as I did. With my second to last pass, I clipped his loincloth, and he threw a hand in front of his dick when it fell. My last lunge carried my Mana Blade through his other hand, sending his naginata sailing. I landed on an Air shield right between his legs, and while he clutched at his manhood, I used the thrust of that shield to land an absolute haymaker of an uppercut right to his taint.

He flew upwards, flailing, wearing very little more than Sigyn's Loki torturing outfit. I pushed my Mana into four separate Shapes; one Air Shield for each of his limbs. Pointing outwards. While they held him spread eagled, I bounced off my Air shield, leaping as high as I could. I spun, lined myself up, then used a final Air Shield to launch me straight at him.

As his noticeably-smaller-than-Loki's cock hit the ground, I muttered, "and that's the power of stories. Bitch."

I would, perhaps, not enjoy your comparison of my own manhood to someone else's recently severed member, had you not just transferred so much Glory directly from Odin to me

I gotchu, boss. Tell Sigyn to get your daily dose of torture in while I'm at lunch?

How... why... I got the impression of a deep, resigned sigh. Your wife is correct.

Huh?

Having you as family means accepting Terror into my life.

Problems?

Not a damn one. Go have lunch.

Thanks, Boss. You're the best.

I kn... he cut off with a squeal and maybe the faintest edge of Sigyn's Candace Bergen chuckle.

I left Gustav hanging, stepped to face Swanson, and waited.

"Well fought, Champion. Lunch?"

"I'd love to, but only on one condition." When he just raised an eyebrow, I pointed at Marie and Hilde. "They get seats at the table."

Credit where it's due, the man hid his booger look almost too fast for me to see it. "Of course your mistresses are invited to dine with us as well."

Lunch was... lunch. Kinda funny, while their bread really needed something, not sure what? They managed to make some good, if greasy, sandwiches from it. The Warriors were on their best behavior. Not saying a whole lot, but none of the looks they shot us were angry or aggressive. Some definitely horny ones, and more than a few of those were at the conclusion of them describing the fight from their point of view, with big old hand motions and even one guy doing the whole 'spread eagle' gesture. That ended when one of them took the opportunity to punch him right in the dick, but given that it was the third time he'd done it, including a few incidental backhands, I guessed it was all in good fun.

When we got back to the green, Swanson followed me on as Marie, escorted by my Lizard bois, jogged to the far end. "Okay, Jarl. You ready to do this?"

He nodded. "I'd like a few stipulations? If I may?"

I shrugged. "Okay. Just to be sure, Green as arena, to first blood?"

He shook his head, "I'd prefer to surrender, if you do not object. To be clear, I have no intention to kill you. But neither of us would be felled by a simple cut." He nodded to me, to my face, and I realized what he was talking bout when I wrinkled my brow to try and see, only to feel my scab crack.

"Okay, fair point. Anything else?"

"I should ask that you not use those blades of light, nor the weapon that creates them."

I couldn't help but smile. "Only if you use a club. A big one."

He tilted his head. "Strange, but fair." He unbuckled his sword belt, held it out behind him, then snapped his fingers when one of his Lizard bois took it. Another one ran off, presumably to fetch a club.

"Honestly, this still feels a little one sided, with how polite you're being and shit. I am, after all, gonna get all your shit when you lose."

He smiled. "So, perhaps, a forfeit should I fell you?"

I frowned at him. "I'm listening."

"Should you lose, you will be mine."

I shook my head, stepping back and waving my hands at the ground. "Oh, no. I am nobody's Thrall."

He nodded, "fair. Should you lose, you will be my warrior..."

"I sense a but."

His smile made an absolute gap-closer of a dash into lewd territory. "As do I. Quite a nice one, in fact. My warrior and my woman, warming my bed until such time as you give me an heir."

"You get a very special kind of hoo-boy. Still, you have been polite. But I gotta check with my wife."

"Of course. Would I be pushing should I ask for her and your other mistress as well?"

"Yes. Yes you would."

He nodded. "Then I shall not."

What do you think, Kitten? I shot her his offer.

Well, should you lose to him, I can't help but think you deserve it. But no, he will get both of us. Not Marie. And he will have you no way but bent over.

That sure as shit put a look on my face, but before Swanson could say anything, I held up a hand for patience. The fuck, Kitten?

Oh, please. I have absolutely no doubt about your victory. But if you somehow manage to throw this fight, I don't wish to spend months away from you, and I think it's only fair that you wind up treated like a bitch who forgot her orders.

I grinned at him. "Woof. Woof."

He shook his head, blinking. "Pardon?"

"Nothin'. You win, you get me and my wife, and she calls the shots on the 'how' in the bedroom."

His eyebrows went looking for his asshole over the top of his head, but he nodded. "Done."

"Okay. One final thing. Is there some kind of official 'my guy who runs this place' title I can give you when you lose?"

He shrugged. "Seneschal seems appropriate?"

"Okay. If you manage to pull off a hunk of this mop," I ran a hand through my hair. "Before I beat you, you're my official Seneschal."

"I am in agreement with all of this. How do you wish to begin?"

"Have one of your lizard bois toss a halberd in the air, we start when it hits?"

He mouthed the word, 'Lizard boi', shook his head, and said, "Bodyguard. One halberd, thrown as high as you can, to land directly between us."

A halberd arced into the air, spinning, and I leapt backward. I didn't like how confident Swanson looked with both hands gripping the great-club, its tip on the ground behind him. For all I knew he had some kind of great club iaijutsu Skill or some shit like that. I stared into his eyes, entirely focused on them. The spinning halberd plunged into the earth beneath us. His hand shot up, empty, and half a dozen Fire Bolts screamed toward me. I couldn't help it, a huge smile stretched across my face as I intercepted each one with a Create Water, singing, "come at me..." He launched another half dozen Fire Bolts, and I laughed aloud as I intercepted them with more Create Water. "And you'll see..."

He followed his Fire Bolts in, coming out of the steam with his club swinging as Apollo proved that the rest of the song worked just as well with a nice masculine tenor as he sang, "I'm more than meets the eye." Awesome vocals and techno beats accompanying me or not, I was not prepared for him to swing that goddamned six foot hunk of wood like a goddamned baton. I'm not sure how many times he hit me, but after landing at least half a dozen shots that rang my fuckin' head like a bell, he wound up and swung for the fences, knocking me backward, tumbling. Somehow I managed to slide to a stop just shy of the other end of the Green. I stood, smiling open mouthed, blood covering my teeth, throwing my fists back and Shaping a Fire Bolt in each, holding the Bolts in my hands. "Woof Woof, Bitch!" I screamed, charging.

He met me midway, but he'd been watching for my Fire Bolts the whole time. He did not expect me to just fuckin' deck him, only releasing the Fire Bolt once my knuckles made contact. Over and over I hit him, Shaping a new Fire Bolt each time, never letting him get out of a near-clinch, hitting him again every time he tried to grab me. Eventually he managed to get his club in between us, and I pulled back and hit him with all the power in my arms, my hips, and my thighs. He flew backward, tumbling end over end, clutching the broken remains of his club in his left hand. He shook his head, grinning at me as he held up his right hand, opening it to let the strands of my hair fall into the churned up mud.

I couldn't help it, I laughed, a big, back arching scream of hilarious rage as blood ran down from my violated scalp. Because some shit in stories just will not be denied, I threw the Mana from that rage into two massive Fire Bolts, firing them into the dirt on either side of me, letting them propagate in a circle around me until they erupted from the ground in gouts of fire. Then, eyes glowing with the Strength and Agility I'd Mimicked from him on top of the Attributes I'd Mimicked from Gustav. I practically flew across the intervening distance, pouring Mana into another massive Fire Bolt. He got his club up again, which is probably all that saved him from terminal burnout. The ashed remains of his club hammered into his face right before my fist, and he flew backwards faster and harder than I had when Karlson shoulder checked me. I slid to a stop, my feet carving furrows in the ground, stopping me just before I slid out of his end of the Green.

I'm not sure where exactly he landed. Even with wireframe vision. Because even though the doors of the longhouse shattered to splinters when he hit them? The next pair, the ones into his 'throne room'? Kinda fell over and blocked my view.

I smiled at them and laughed Gloriously at the confusion in their faces when I said, "it's a strong story."