It was unconscionable. Stanton glared around at the leering faces and wished for his trousers, robes, and shirts. They were only staring because he had a dress designed to show off the curves Angel's effect on his life had caused. He considered drinking, like they all were, but that would only lead to worse complications. "How much do you think my family will pay? They're not exactly the richest, you know."

"Look around you, Lupin, it's not hard to have more money than we do!" Lorissa's eyes had rarely left Stanton's chest since about her third drink. "Why don't you have a drink and loosen up a little? We have a long walk tomorrow, and it would be a good way to relax before it—if you know what I'm saying?"

Stanton wondered if he'd ever been this way with a girl. He tried to think back to his carousing before he started at the academe. There were a few nights spent drinking what young lords shouldn't, but they had all been spent in the company of male friends—several of which had been his families' minders for him. No. If he'd gotten drunk, he would not have been allowed near a young lady. "I know what you're saying," he told the leader of the brigands, "but I'm not interested."

He was, though. He wouldn't be a man if he wasn't interested in Lorissa. She was smart, capable, and showed off the length and quality of her legs until they weren't legs but hips. His eyes had wandered (and been caught by Lorissa doing so) as Stanton had traced the curve of those hips, leading up to a bust that seemed contained only by the hopes and dreams of the mastercrafter who'd made her corset. Lorissa wasn't just beautiful, she was beautifully dangerous. Her weapons, that he'd managed to discern, were a blade enchanted to part armor like it was paper, a wand of greater magic dispersal, a wand of ice, and a wand of fireball. The latter only had two charges on it, but given most mages could barely deal with the spell at their best, he was sure two would be enough to completely overwhelm a bad situation.

"Lupin, have you forgotten my little quirk?"

Stanton swore. He hadn't, but it also hadn't seemed important to focus on her ability to see through lies. It wasn't that she had it, but that she seemed able to use it at will and constantly.

Leaning forward to show her chest a little better, Lorissa gave Stanton her best smoldering look. "You lied, Lupin, when you said you weren't interested."

Why she was after him in this way, Stanton could picture. Unfortunately, the dress he'd worn to show himself off at the ball was also perfect for showing himself off to a brigand. "I can't. My family—"

"Another lie. You are a fabulous little ball of interest, Lupin. You don't have anything to fear, though, come and sit with me and we'll just talk." Patting the log she was sitting on, Lorissa invited Stanton to come closer to the fire where some of the brigands were talking—but most were losing their battle with alcohol-induced-sleep.

Just talking had never gotten Stanton into as much trouble as it was now. He was always a smooth player. He knew the rules of not merely how nobles trade barbs, but also how commoners convey their emotions in language and curses. Lorissa cut through his words and found things he hadn't intended to say—because he didn't. She found the little lies he used all the time and picked at them with her words. She could also have him executed and left behind while her group of brigands took their goods who-knew-where.

Groaning, Lorissa cocked an eyebrow and said, "Come on. I won't bite—unless you ask nicely."

There was literally nothing else for it. Standing up and gathering his (now dirty) skirts in his hands, Stanton walked over and sat down on the log beside Lorissa. "Happy now?"

Smirking, maybe even a little more than she intended, Lorissa nodded. "It's not easy, you know? Does that pretty head of yours hold any clue as to how many women are in my line of work, let alone pretty ones, let alone ones I would trust to not stab me in the back?" When Stanton started to open his mouth, Lorissa cut in. "Don't answer that last one. Look, I'll make your stay with us safe and comfortable—at least as comfortable as I can. We aren't rich or well-off. We don't have great farming land or magics that can make the soil produce wondrous crops. Jus—Jus…"

Stanton was acutely aware that Lorissa had stopped talking and had slumped against him. Mostly it was her snoring that gave her away. A look around the fire showed him that there wasn't a single brigand awake.

The silence of the camp was deafening, but Stanton wasn't prepared to rely on it. Delicate magic, weak at first but growing stronger as it found fertile soil, spread among the brigand group and seeped into their sleeping minds. Thick fogs of clouding magic stretched over their dreamscapes and eased them deeper into the best sleep they would ever get in their entire lives.

Shimmying to the side, Stanton carefully guided Lorissa to lay down before the log. For a moment a lecherous thought surfaced—that he could now feel how curvy she really was and if she used padding—but as soon as it came he stamped it into the gutter from whence it had come.

Each brigand had their weapons. Some had axes, knives, spears, and one even had a large axe—but there was nothing that was worth its salt as an actual tool of their trade except for Lorissa's kit. "If they were in the Guard, I'd call them militia—and she'd be their captain."

Next he inspected what they'd taken from the train. There were crates of goods that were all lashed to poles to make dragging them easier. He checked shipping labels and it was all dry goods: salt, cured meats, grains, and one little keg of spirits.

Huffing a little, Stanton leaned back and looked at the provisions. This wasn't stealing all the gold and silverware—this was getting what a village needed to survive a rough time. Of any other captives there was no sign. "Poop."

Stanton walked back over to the log and sat down on it to think. Looking at the "brigands" with fresh eyes, he realized that none of them looked like hard men. They had worked their whole lives, sure, but they lacked even the scars and bruises training without magic healing would give and they were completely without the tools of the trade. "Angel, you can come out now."

Having transferred herself to Stanton's skirts, Angel poked her head out from under them. "You beat them all up?" she asked upon seeing the entire camp unconscious.

"No. They're asleep. I put them under magically."

"So let's go back to the train!" Striding out, Angel fluttered into the air, looked around, and started flying back toward the railway line. She stopped when she realized Stanton wasn't following her. "What's wrong?"

"Look at them, Angel, and I mean really look at them. What do they look like?" Stanton gestured at the sleeping brigands.

Taking a deep sigh, Angel looked at Lorissa first. "Let's see. Decked out in what are probably illegally unstable wands, a sword that looks like it should glow in the dark with how it's enchanted, and charismas no man could stop looking at. Bad news brigand." That was her assessment, but the look on Stanton's face told her he expected more.

She flew to the next one and stopped. Tilting her head first to one side and then the other, Angel lowered herself down to the man's body and examined his hands. "He's a farmer, not a brigand."

"You can tell by his hands?" Stanton was curious.

"Of course. Look. That's not filth under his nails but dirt. His hands are like leather and his palms—but not fingers—are calloused. He normally leans on a plow all day, I'd wager." Flying to the next, she laughed. "I can actually see a hammer bruise on the back of his hand and he's just a boy!"

Standing and approaching Angel, Stanton spotted two cheeks unblemished by whiskers or any sign he used a razor recently. "Now look at what they stole."

Angel kept her opinions to herself as she flew over and inspected the crates. "So, what do we do now?"

"Well, I'm not going to tie them all up and haul them back to the train. They want to hold Louise, Lupin, Silverclaw hostage? They've got her." Stanton rolled up his sleeves and looked around. "I just wish I knew more agriculture spells, but I think I can at least handle some basic things. If they don't want to be brigands, I will try to give them the chance to not be."

By the end of his speech, Angel was clapping. "See! This is the good you are meant to do. Helping people be good and do good! I'm so proud of you, Stanton!"

Oddly, Stanton couldn't help but strike a little pose and, almost too late, stopped himself from turning into Super Lupine Girl right then and there. "I need to sleep, but I can't leave them like this. It's not a dangerous part of the kingdom—not usually—but having everyone under magical sleep until dawn seems like a bad plan. So…"

Laying down beside Lorissa, Stanton undid the magic he'd worked over the group. Immediately her arm reached out, grabbed Stanton's waist, and pulled him firmly against her. "Might as well make yourself known in the morning, Angel. I don't think they'd do anything."

"Yeah, but I don't think she'd appreciate cuddling with me too. Stanton, can I ask you a question?" Angel asked, sitting on the log behind him and kicking her legs slowly.

"You just did."

Angel stopped kicking her legs. "Ha. Ha," she said, voice deadpan. "Why is it you keep having girls wanting to be your special friend?"

"I like girls, Angel."

"But you're a girl. You should like boys. That would make things much easier."

"Angel, life is never about being easy." It was the nicest way Stanton could put it.

"I have been noticing that. It all started when a stinky boy summoned me instead of a pretty girl. But I learned to get things my way." Angel caught sight of Stanton's eyes in the light of the campfire as it started burning down. "Sorry if this made things less easy."

"Don't be. It wasn't your fault that I summoned you." At Angel's giggle, Stanton tilted his head again to see if she was making fun of him. To his eyes, she was watching the fire. "What's so funny?"

"Neither of us got exactly what we wanted, but I think things are working out okay."

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

Mulling that over as his thoughts slowed for sleep, Stanton realized it was exactly the kind of compromise life was full of. "Keep an"—he yawned—"eye on everyone for me? If something bad comes, wake me u—"

Angel giggled. "Don't worry, you big scaredy wolf. Princess Angel von Snuggles, the fourth, won't let anything bad happen to your new friends."

----------------------------------------

Waking, slowly, Stanton was aware of someone hugging him tight, of lips against his cheek, and a leg curled around his hips. His eyes flew open and he was looking into the sleeping face of Lorissa. The previous night and the aborted train ride that led to him making plans to steer a village onto the right path returned to him—as Lorissa's lips met his.

"Awww. It's hi—her first kiss," Angel said aloud.

Several other voices, masculine voices, giggled or laughed outright while Stanton was caught in shock. The kiss, itself… He decided that if he weren't trying to disengage himself from Lorissa, it would probably be nice.

"It wasn't, surely?" Lorissa opened her eyes and pointedly didn't let go of Stanton for a few more moments.

Blushing appropriately, Stanton pulled away when she let go. "It wasn't." He had to pointedly not continue to clarify and give her (or Angel) ammunition to use on him. "Is this all I am, a conquest?"

"No. I'll be clear on that. If I make a bloody mess of things and go too far, nothing would stop a noble from gathering a warband and destroying us. No despoiling, but that doesn't mean we can't be a little cozy."

As a publicly male scion of his two clans, Stanton wouldn't be seen as being despoiled by Lorissa, but he wasn't going to point that out. "So you think my father won't storm in here?"

"We'll send a note promising your safety for an amount of gold far, far less than the cost of moving troops here. Unless your family is particularly focused on maintaining face, they'll pay it and get their good little girl back." Jumping to her feet, Lorissa reached back down and offered Stanton a hand to rise. "In the meantime, while we all get cozy and wait, do you happen to have any skills?"

Stanton had a plan of sorts. Lorissa had mentioned the town couldn't produce food, so that was one place to try to effect change and get them out of the robbery trade. Hauled to his feet, he held up the hand Lorissa had taken and formed a ball of fire in his delicate palm. At Lorissa's expression of surprise, he let it sputter a little and fade. "I'm still learning, that's why I'm on my way to Conjur, but I might be able to help with a few things here and there."

"Figures. Why didn't you light Danyrn's ass on fire when he grabbed you?"

Doing his best not to watch Lorissa moving around and packing up her gear, Stanton used a quick ripple of magic to clean his dress. "My magic's been a little odd lately. If I'd used magic, I probably would have set half the train on fire." Always the truth. He had to be careful because he didn't know how long she could maintain her lie-sensing ability.

A twitch in Lorissa's pinkie on her left hand told her that Stanton had worked magic, but given the look of him, she figured it was exactly what it looked like—and the lack of dirt on her dress confirmed it was a cleaning spell. "If we move fast, we may make it back to town before nightfall."

Stanton was given two options for the trip to town: ride on Lorissa's horse in front of her, or on one of the men's horses behind them. Reluctantly, and considering it at least mildly less disruptive, he picked to ride with Lorissa. Breakfast had been a small bowl of cold porridge (that had him yearning for the street food of Conjur), and lunch was a simple hunk of bread. He had to complain, or it would be suspicious, but he was aware that it was the exact same food that the others were eating.

Mid-afternoon a pair of uncovered wagons met them and the crates were loaded up. From there, the ride to the small town was much faster and, sure enough, they reached the outskirts before sundown.

The town consisted of ten buildings, nine of which were homes and one was some kind of longhouse. It was to the latter that Lorissa rode and, eventually, dismounted at. Helped down from the horse, Lorissa didn't say a word as Stanton found himself a third wheel to the town's unloading and stowage of the wagons. At last, though, an older woman glared at her.

"Well, what has Lori gone and done now? That girl, I swear, will be the end of this town one day."

Stomping right up to Stanton, was an older and ubiquitous town "granny", the kind that knew everything going on and had opinions on it all. "H-Hello. My name is Louise Silverclaw. I think I've been kidnapped?"

Clicking her tongue and shaking her head, the old woman reached out and took Stanton's hand, then glared at it. "Come with me and I'll find something for you to do." Tugging, she urged Stanton away from the group and, once they'd rounded a corner of the big building, asked, "Noble, right?" At Stanton's nod, she clicked her tongue again. "Figured. Only nobles have two names. Not an important one or you'd have three or even four. So many bloody names a woman can't count on her hand. Let's get that trail dust off you."

It wasn't the first time Stanton had had an older female take charge and bustle him through settling in. His first year at Conjur had been in a dorm where they had just such a woman. This particular battleaxe was as set in her ways and was absolutely without any remorse for stripping him down, ensuring he was scrubbed to within an inch of his life, and begowned in a much more conservative woolen dress.

"There. That's much more sensible. I'll take care of your dress for when you leave—unless you take a shine to one of the lads around here." Standing back a bit and looking at Stanton, she narrowed her eyes for a moment and then froze a moment. "You look like my Kitty."

It was a single moment and Stanton could see pain and dampness in the old woman's eyes until she blinked both away. "Sorry. Thank you for the dress, but I don't even know your name."

"Just call me Gran. Come on, I have words for Lori that will blister your ears—so you best not listen when I start on her." Leading the way out, like a lord sallying from a fortress against odds he's sure of overwhelming, Gran scanned around and spotted Lorissa looking a little lost. "Lori! Get your scrawny rump into the meeting hall this instant!"

The look of terror on Lorissa's face spoke volumes to Stanton regarding how much Gran got her way. Meekly following the old woman, he made his way into the longhouse and found a seat at a long table to one side beside Gran. A young girl brought them mugs of water, of which Stanton drank nearly half before coming up for air.

"Did that granddaughter of mine not even feed you?" Gran asked, a moment before Lorissa walked in.

Stanton realized that Gran would be far worse to lie to than Lorissa, but for different reasons. "We had breakfast and lunch, but I didn't get any water."

"We were traveling light!" Lorissa was on the back foot right from the start. She wasn't sure why Gran was angry with her, but she knew there would be ammunition leveled her way and she would try her best to deflect—and fail. "We didn't know we'd be kidnapping. We only wanted the supplies…"

Stanton watched one of the most self-assured women he'd ever met slowly fold like laundry. When Lorissa let out a sigh and lowered her head, he knew that Gran had the woman completely under her thumb. "She let me ride her horse, and she helped me stay warm last night."

Gran turned her eyes to Stanton, narrowed them and, detecting no lie, sighed. "Lori, sit down. We need to discuss this mess you've gotten us all into. Stealing the odd few crates of supplies is one thing. Lou here is quite another."

"Lupin, Gran. She prefers to be called Lupin. I'll arrange a cheap ransom, something small enough that a noble wouldn't think twice about paying it." Juggling her words, Lorissa tried to get control of the situation back, not that she held much hope of it.

"See that you do. I'll take care of—Lupin?" Gran looked at Stanton and, when he nodded, gave him a little smile. "She fits in Kitty's old things. She can help me with a few little chores."

Stanton could already tell that Gran would make the most effective prison guard of all time. His days would be scheduled and he would find no end of work—if he let her monopolize his time. "I, uh, did want to try helping with the fields."

Gran, who had taken Stanton's agreement as read, raised her eyebrows at that.

"She can do magic, Gran. I told her about how we can't grow much out here and—"

"I want to help, if I can. I grew up in a manor and helped the attendants with the gardens. I know a few things about conditioning soil." Using more and more of his childhood to generate a history for Louise Silverclaw, Stanton gave his best smile. "Please?"

Sucking in a long breath, Gran considered her options. It was absolutely true that their soil wasn't the best, thanks to a multitude of reasons, but she wasn't willing to let a witless noble cast unknown magic on a field. "You can test your little tricks on one of my garden beds. If it works, then we can look at doing m—"

"Louise Silverclaw!" Zooming in the door, Angel glared at Stanton. "We're going home right now!" It took Angel a few seconds to register that Stanton was wearing a rather common-looking woolen dress. "Why are you dressed like that?"

"Funny story, Angel. You remember that part where I was kidnapped? I don't get to choose when I can go home. I'm a prisoner here." Stanton was into his normal banter with Angel before he realized both women were staring at him like he'd grown warts. "So… Uh… This is"—he sighed—"Princess Angel von Snuggles, the fourth. She's my familiar."

Landing on the table, Angel turned to Gran and gave her best curtsy. "Sorry if you were planning to keep her as a hostage or a slave or something, but she really needs to be back in Conjur. You see, there's this dragon, and—" She was unable to continue mostly because Stanton had grabbed her and clamped her mouth closed with a hand.

"My familiar who says the craziest things. Sorry about that. Angel will try to be more understanding. Won't you, Angel?" Giving his best glare at Angel, Stanton hoped she would get back with the plan.

Nipping at Stanton's fingers to free her mouth, Angel glared up at him. "I can feel the dragon, Louise. That means you have to stop it." When Stanton continued to glare at her, Angel groaned. "You said you'd fight the forces of evil!"

Watching all this unfold, Gran leaned over and asked Lorissa, "Do you have any idea what they're talking about?"

Shaking her head, Lorissa pointed to Angel. "I've seen a few wizard familiars, but none of them have talked. What are they saying about a dragon?"

Gran shrugged to her granddaughter. "I think," she began, saying the words loudly to be heard over Stanton and Angel's argument about duty, "that it would be best to get you fed and settled for the night."

Angel didn't stop glaring at Stanton while he was promptly moved back to Gran's home, upstairs, and into his own bedroom that seemed fully furnished. Once they were alone, she let out a little growl. "So, what's the big deal? We don't have time for this. I can feel the dragon's anger and fury! It's terrorizing the countryside! Probably waylaying innocent high school students and doing unspeakable things to the lengths of their skirts."

Calm, or at least far more calm than Angel, Stanton tied his hair back in a practical knot that he could sleep with, and then waited. He managed nearly four whole minutes before he had to ask, "What's this about skirts?"

"Never mind. It's surely up to something indecent, and here you are—"

"Here I am trying to do some good, Angel. These people don't need a ransom payment for me—they need their farmlands fixed so they can grow crops easier. They need to stop robbing trains." Crossing his arms, Stanton still struggled to get used to doing so with breasts. In the back of his mind he went over the various options of crossing them below or on top of his bust.

"Gran has dinner ready downstairs. You—?" Lorissa froze at the sight of an upset Stanton. He looked every bit as determined as she imagined she herself did when she dug her heels in. Gulping back whatever stupid flirty line she had come up with in the two seconds since noticing, she asked, "What's a dragon?"

Stanton was halted in his mental tracks. "You heard all that?"

"Look, you're right with all of it. Gran and the town would be fine if they could get some of this mess fixed." Walking in and sitting on the bed beside Stanton, Lorissa slumped forward and looked at the floor. "When Gran told me Mom died, I came back to this—" She had to bite off the word she would have used for the town she grew up in. "… town. People were starving. Those that could afford to, left. They just stopped farming and walked away."

"But there are farmers still here, right?" Stanton asked.

"A few. Those that couldn't travel or are too tied to the land." The arm across her shoulder only encouraged Lorissa to lean against Stanton, accepting the comfort in a rare vulnerable moment. "Can you really fix the land?"

"It depends what's wrong with it. Farming isn't my specialty, but it's hard to study magic without memorizing everything you learn."

"Bull-hooey," Angel said. "That isn't normal at all. You're ju—" She kept talking, even with a pillow jammed into her mouth, though it was now unintelligible.

Smirking at the playfulness Angel and Stanton shared, Lorissa felt a tiny spark of hope inside. "I guess we all kept some secrets, huh?"

Stanton nodded and let Angel yank the pillow free. "If dinner's ready, I'll eat, sleep, and I can take a look at things tomorrow. Tonight I'm still getting over being kidnapped." Looking to the side and down a little, to where Lorissa was under his arm, Stanton couldn't help but grin his own joke.

Available at: https://www.royalroad.com/profile/220350/fictions

This story is released under the Creative Commons BY-NC-SA license. If you are paying money to see this or the original creator, Damaged, is not credited, you are viewing a plagiarized copy of the story.