Nights of Alsitor; Podritia's Pass

The wind howled outside, barely swaying the lanterns hanging within the closed bivouac. Soft light played off the glyphs woven into the tent walls, and the somber faces of the two meeting parties. Captain Tsharles, a rocky-jawed bear of a man with olive skin and wavy amber hair, sat on a footstool two steps away from the intricately-knitted wicker bench supporting Sheriff Amelia, the steward of Podritia's Pass. a strategically vital route through otherwise inaccessible mountains. The men in Tsharles' party, standing at his flank, exchanged uncertain glances with the women rangers, tasked with guarding the pass, waiting at Amelia's command. Tsharles and his men had traveled for days, and their journey was now at the mercy of Amelia's mood.

Amelia, the only woman not donning hunter's gear, pulled back the shimmering sleeve of her bright-blue gown as she traced her slender fingers along her straight black hair's taught braids. With a disarming smile, she gestured at the visiting party. "For the reputable Captain Tsharles to make his way to a backwater outpost like mine..." she batted her ice-blue eyes, "It must be a mission too important to divulge freely?"

Tsharles nodded respectfully. "As a precaution, my task is to be a guarded secret, but I give my word it is important and of no ill consequence to the guards of the Pass."

Skilfully revealing only an edge of the elaborate markings painted on her pale, freckled skin hidden beneath her gown, Amelia coyly cast down her eyes. "The platoon of Tsharles is said to be the strongest fighting force west of The Plain. Surely we couldn't stop you from forcing your way through the pass?"

Patient but annoyed, Tsharles tipped his head at his host. "I'll not insult you by explaining Myieaul custom like you don't know it perfectly well. The Gate, and all thresholds, are sacred. No true-hearted Myieaul would gain any sort of passage by force; we shall pass by your consent, or we shall not at all. Our mission is at your mercy."

Amelia unfolded an embroidered green fan, hiding a smile. "I cherish your honorable ways, but... there is the issue of rumors, coming from the Low Glen, about your encounter with my little sister Glenda? And you burning down her cabin?"

The men shifted around uneasily as Tsharles shook his head, scratching his jaw. "Glenda kidnapped one of my men and threatened to castrate him, because she thought it was funny. It was her joke, I just added my own punchline."

The wind's hum filled the tense silence. "Glenda has always been an idiot," Amelia said with a shrug, "And a disgrace to the Ephaemeryl. Still, family is family. What would it say about my family name if I just up and let you through Podritia's Pass?"

A ripple of despair passed over Tsharles' face. He lowered his eyes and spread his hands in supplication. "I completely understand, but we don't have much to trade and we'll need our supplies for The Pass."

Fanning herself, Amelia let out an airy laugh. "I'm not cruel, Tsharles... I won't demand what I know you can't pay. All I ask is a gesture, a token to appease my obligation to family."

Tsharles gulped, looking around uneasily at the smiles of the women behind Amelia. "...What sort of token?"

"Oh, I don't know... how about..." she crossed her legs, letting one of her dainty bare feet stick out into the lamplight, flashing a smug grin from behind her fan, "... you can beg my forgiveness. While licking my feet."

The hum of the warm, summer wind through the mountains filled the vacuous silence in the tent. Tsharles' shock-wide eyes contrasted with his stoic, haggard, bearded face. As a moment passed, one of the younger soldiers at Tsharles' side stepped up, stammering as he shook his fist indignantly at Amelia.

"Th- this is an outrage! How dare you disgrace our captain! He is a man of honor, not some-"

The lad's voice cut off as the captain raised one hand to interrupt, his other hand massaging his knotted brow as he let out a long, tired sigh. He looked up, his humorless visage ascowl, and glared at Amelia. "If... if I do, I play along with your joke... you are true to your word? You won't just laugh and refuse us passage, to avenge your sister?"

Rolling her eyes, Amelia snapped her fan shut, bobbing her exposed foot expectantly, the toe-rings and anklets glimmering in the lamp-light. "I'm offended, captain. I value the sanctity of my word over Glenda's childish grudges. I'm trying to be civil, letting you resolve things with a little humility. Take it or leave it." Dragging her fingers along the runes painted up her calf to the sound of her rangers' tittering, she offered, "There's no need to worry. I just had a bath."

Scowling, Tsharles closed his eyes. "So be it. I'll do it." Behind him, his expression was matched by every one of his men. The howl of the wind outside was interrupted by a sputter, then a snort. Unable to contain himself, one of the soldiers brought his hand to his mouth, stifling a violent chuckle. The laugh was infectious, cracking the composure of soldier after soldier until even Tsharles threw his head back with a mirthful bellow.

Confused, Amelia didn't have time to ask an explanation before Tsharles was on his feet. With practiced expertise, his spade-like hands nimbly grabbed and tugged at his travelling robes and the shawl studded with the many medallions boasting his heroic history. Amelia stared slack-jawed at the massive, muscular, scar-striped figure standing before her, bare save his travel-boots and a deep-red silk loincloth. Before she could speak, Tsharles had dropped onto all fours and prowled up to her bench, licking his lips as he chuckled. "Mmmm hmm hnmm hnn hnn..."

"Wh- what're you-" Amelia didn't have time to withdraw her foot when he grabbed her ankle in the iron grasp of one hand as he gently caressed it with the other.

"Mmm, Sheriff," he purred, planting a passionate kiss straight into the arch of Amelia's foot. She gasped, but he paid no mind, continuing to pepper her hoof with playful smooches across the top. "Oh, Sheriff, please forgive me... I beseech you, I am a lowly nothing before you," biting his lip, he pressed her toes to his forehead, "I prostrate myself before your glory..."

"Wh- hey! Shoo! Get off you me you oaf! Lummox!" She swatted the captain with her fan fruitlessly.

Still clasping her foot, Tsharles looked up, insulted. "What? And go back on my word? Never!" Through a wide smile poked his gleefully-wetted tongue, which was sent weaving in between Amelia's toes. Eyes bugging out, she gasped even deeper.

Tsharles' men were really losing it, leaning on each other to keep from tipping over for laughing too hard. The lad who had spoken up before clutched his sides, chiming up, "Hoo boy, free passage through The Pass AND fresh maiden-feet? The captain's having a good night!"

"Yes he is," Tsharles concurred as he pressed the side of his face into the sole of Amelia's foot, nuzzling into it.

"Bastard! Harlot! I'm getting out of- whoop!" She made to stand up and leave, but it proved an ill-planned choice. Unwilling to relinquish his grip on her ankle, Tsharles pulled back, letting Amelia tumble face-down onto the cushions behind her bench. With an agility uncanny for his size, the captain hopped up to sit on Amelia's thigh, her foot bending up to his face in a perfect submission pose. "Oh, mistress," he trilled in a gruff baritone, "my queen, oh, punish me! Make me suffer like a filthy newt for my evils!" Devoid of restraint, he closed his eyes and suckled her toes passionately. Even in the soft lamp-light, the blush on Amelia's pale skin was intense. The rangers standing all around them looked at each other in confusion. Should they interfere? They'd never disobey Amelia's orders, and technically Tsharles was doing exactly what he was told.

"ENOUGH!" Amelia shrieked at the ground between her clenched fists, "Let 'em through the damn pass!" With a satisfied grunt, the captain released her ankle and stood up, striding back to his raucous men. One handed Tsharles his robes, which he tossed over his shoulder as he looked back at Amelia.

With her lips pursed into a tight frown, Amelia gave Tsharles a harrowing glare that could have wilted cabbage. Tsharles just grinned, sticking out his tongue from which he picked up a toe-ring which he respectfully placed on the stool. "Thank you for your hospitality, sheriff. I hope you can come by the shrine-camp at Dolmen some day, I'd love the chance to repay it!"