The Duchess of Lust Ch. 01 - The Barbarians

Sarya's heart thudded in her chest, keeping near-perfect time with the drumbeats of the great barbarian horde. Her gaze swept over the wild camp and the vast, teeming ranks of northern savages. The wild men and women wore outfits made of thick furs and hides, and bore ancient cracked swords. Many of them chanted and howled in time with the drums, and the sound echoed across the plain towards her city.

She shuddered and her fingers dug into the stone parapet. She looked over her shoulder, to the gleaming city of Fellhaven. Towers and domes rose over the canals and narrow, winding streets. Knights and lesser soldiers ran down those streets, rushing to man the walls. Bells tolled, but the sounds were nearly drowned out by the howls and drums of the enemy.

Fellhaven was her home, a beautiful place near and dear to her heart. And that great savage army of brutes had come to snatch it all away from her.

The only thing standing in that horde's way were the city's proud walls, its small garrison, and Sarya's own iron will to keep her homeland safe.

"Your highness," a voice panted from behind her. She turned to see Sir Viktor: a tall, bulky man with wispy grey hair and a weathered face that was marred with nasty scars. The grizzled knight was akin to an uncle to the duchess, and his sword-arm had kept her and her city safe for years. She just hoped his prowess would continue to hold.

His eyes flickered past the walls, then back to her.

"We really should get you some armor, if you are going to insist on inspecting the defenses yourself," he said, catching his breath after his run up the steps.

Sarya looked down at her stunning green dress of silk and lace; it clung to her lithe form, but left little skin exposed. It was a gown fit for a ballroom or a throne room, not for standing atop the walls of a city about to be attacked.

"No time," she said quickly. "The smiths need to be focused on building weapons and armor for actual soldiers, not equipment for me."

"Well, at least leave the sentry duty to me and my knights, then. I've heard those savages are excellent archers...wouldn't want you to be struck down by some lucky arrow, eh?"

At that, she shrank back from the wall, but didn't take her gaze away from the enemy. Some of the howling and chanting lessened, as the brutes set to erecting their siege camp. They unfurled tents and yurts made of furs and hides, while others began to harvest the great trees of the forests around Fellhaven, so they could use the timber for siegeworks and weapons.

She winced as one great tree came tumbling down; she had ridden through those forests as a girl, and had enjoyed their enchanting beauty a great deal. Her grief turned to rage at the savages, and she narrowed her eyes.

"And what else have you heard of them?" she asked.

"Not much more than you. Nobody knows how they got so far south so quickly, and with so many."

She nodded at that; the sudden speed of the attack had been surprising and alarming. Her ancestors had occasionally dealt with smaller raids, as had other cities throughout the kingdom, but no barbarian horde of such size had marched this far south in centuries.

"But they call themselves the Iron Blades. Mostly humans from the icy northern mountains and wastes, but rumors tell of...darker beings among them."

She shuddered at those ominous words.

"Darker?"

"Trolls, giants...some even claim the Iron Blades have recruited werewolves to their cause."

Another shudder rippled through her.

"Didn't even know such things were real..."

"Maybe not, your highness. Could just be idle rumors."

"The more important question, sir," she went on, her voice soft and shaking at the thought of those savages and their supposed monstrous allies. "Is do we have a chance?"

Viktor hesitated, then sighed.

"I don't know. They're savages, not as well-trained as your men, but they have far more. And if they do indeed have giants, trolls and werewolves..." His hand tightened around the hilt of his sword.

An icy wind rippled in over the city walls, fluttering through her curly red hair. She shivered, and the knight wrapped his cloak about her shoulders.

"We have enough supplies to hold out for years," he went on. "So starvation won't be a problem. And if the riders we sent out make it to the other duchies, and if they rally their armies...then we have a chance."

"I trust in the skill of your riders, but the loyalty of the other dukes and duchesses?" Sarya snorted.

Several of those other rulers no doubt dreamed of ruling Fellhaven for themselves; she suspected some might let the Iron Blades take her city, then they could ride in, mop up the barbarians, declare themselves as heroes, and rule over the ashes.

She watched as the tribes of the Iron Blades continued to spread out over the evacuated farmland that ringed the great city. Still chanting and shouting, they completed the encirclement of her fair city. They tore into the ground with shovels, digging trenches and fortifications, and continued to ravage the ancient forests. Some of the great trees began to burn as the barbarians erected massive bonfires. Her eyes narrowed, unable to make out much in the frenzy of activity.

"Your spyglass, sir," she said, extending her pale hand towards the knight.

"Your highness, the Iron Blades are a savage lot. I am sure the goings-on of their camp are not fit for a woman of your stature to-"

She turned and icy glare towards the knight. Viktor was a kind and loyal man, but sometimes he coddled her too much.

He grinned sheepishly and handed the spyglass over, and she raised it to her eye for a look.

She shuddered as she got a better view of the ranks of wild men and women. They were tall, brutish and fur-clad, and many were heavily tattooed, scarred or covered with dark warpaint...or perhaps blood. Most of them would have dwarfed even Sir Viktor and the other knights under her command, and several of the women looked just as fierce as the men.

A part of her had to admire the savages for their equality; most nobles in the kingdom would laugh at the thought of a woman fighting for them. She swept the spyglass over the camp, and focused for a moment on a massive bonfire, as several savages tossed meat onto the flames, and began to pass around wine and ale.

"Gods," she hissed. "They march all this way, chop down our ancient forests, and decide to have a feast? One might think they should be preparing for a siege, not getting drunk."

"It is their way, your highness," Viktor said. "War is not the only way their honor their wild gods. It is said that they drink, revel and feast in the name of their gods, too."

"Is that what you were trying to hide me from?" she snorted. "The sight of savages drinking too much?"

He murmured an apology and she continued her inspection of the camp. For the moment, she only saw those wild, bestial human warriors, and did not spy any of the 'darker beings' that Viktor had warned her about. For all their apparent strength and savagery, the Iron Blades were only a human force, as far as she could tell.

There seemed to be a commotion in front of one of the bonfires. A dozen or so barbarians were scuffling and fighting over something. They fought with their fists, feet and even their teeth, and a bit of blood sprayed onto the grass.

She chuckled; maybe they just had to survive long enough for the savages to kill each other. The scuffle calmed down after a few moments, and one of the barbarians rose from the great melee, lifting a red cloth in triumph. Some of the others around him cheered, while others scowled and stormed off.

Whatever the cloth was, it was quite a prize.

The barbarians all then turned to look expectantly at a small tent made of white fur.

A few moments passed, and she thought about moving on to inspect the rest of the army, but her curiosity got the better of her.

A thin, short woman with wild blonde hair emerged from the tent. Much to Sarya's shock, the woman was entirely nude, but her thin, muscular form was covered with white paint and tattoos of trees, wild beasts and other symbols of the Iron Blades. She had never seen such a savage woman, nor had she ever seen a woman move with such cool, precise confidence.

The painted woman stepped before the crowd of men and looked sternly over them, and raised an eyebrow at the man holding the red cloth. She said something, and the man nodded, and the tribesmen erupted into cheers.

"What is it?" Viktor asked, clearly noticing that she'd been focused on that one portion of the camp.

"Not sure," she said, with a hint of a tremble in her voice.

The woman, who was possibly some sort of shaman or witch, stepped forward and plucked the red cloth from the warrior's hand. She smiled sweetly, and the victorious warrior struck. He lunged at the shaman, grabbed her hips and shoved her to the ground onto her hands and knees. The warriors cheered, and the woman smirked almost smugly.

A gasp left Sarya's lips as the victorious warrior undid his belt. As he started to undress, he inspected him a bit more. He was a tall, lean man, not quite as wide or brutish as the other Iron Blades. His blonde hair was tied into long, intricate braids, and tattoos of wolf paws adorned his cheeks. His scars made it hard to tell how old he was, but she doubted he was any older than thirty. The man undid his belt, shrugged off his cloak and tossed away his sword, then shoved his trousers down past his knees.

She gasped again at the sight of the savage's massive, thick and veiny cock. She had discreetly enjoyed her share of lovers over the years, but she'd never seen a man with such an impressive tool.

A wicked part of wondered if all of the savages were so well-endowed.

Viktor asked another question, but she couldn't hear him. She was far too focused on the blonde warrior, who knelt and gave the shaman's rear a slap. The shaman and the duchess both shuddered at that, and cheers rose from the barbarians as the man slid his thick shaft into the shaman's pussy, with nary any hesitation or teasing.

The warrior's thick hands grasped for the woman's shoulder, gripping her tightly as his powerful hips slammed again and again into her. Sarya watched, gaping, at the sight of the woman's juices running down her thigh. The man must have been impressively skilled to elicit such a reaction so quickly...and Sarya hated to admit that she herself felt moisture rising between her own thighs.

The shaman leaned her head back, her mouth gaping wide in bliss, her eyes rolling back into her head. Another savage stepped forward, and after a nod from the blonde warrior, he undid his own belt, grasped the shaman's hair, and shoved his own massive cock into the woman's gaping mouth.

Sarya gasped again at the sight of that, as the two savages used the wild shaman's body. She'd often fantasized about enjoying two men at once, and had of course read bawdy, wicked stories of such encounters...but she'd certainly never witnessed it.

The two men worked in unison, one pounding against her backside while the other rocked his hips against the shaman's mouth. The woman's hands rose, gripping the second barbarian's tight, muscled rear.

Sarya had no idea how the woman could withstand such rough treatment. A wicked thought flared in her mind, imagining herself in the woman's place. She wondered what those rough hands would feel like on her own soft hips, and how it would feel to taste the savage, untamed cock of a wild barbarian. Her heart pounded, and Viktor spoke again.

She cleared her throat and lowered the spyglass.

"Everything all right?" he asked, frowning.

She cleared her throat again and nodded, a flush coming to her cheeks. She knew that even now, the shaman was being thoroughly ravished, and Sarya wondered if yet more of the Iron Blades would be joining in...

Her hand trembled, for she ached to raise the spyglass to take another look, but she didn't want Viktor to grow worried or suspicious.

"They were slaughtering some elks for their feast in a rather brutal manner," she lied. "Was just shocking, that's all."

Viktor sighed and took the spyglass back.

"Well, your highness, I'm afraid things are only going to get more brutal from here. We should get back to the palace, so we can convene and strategize with the other officers and your advisers."

She hesitated just for a moment, then nodded.

Together they descended down the steps, past the ranks of brave knights and soldiers who ascended to man the walls. Others gathered down in the streets below, ready to ride to any gate that fell, or to reinforce the soldiers atop the walls. Several marketplaces had been converted into makeshift hospitals, with carts filled with healing herbs and bandages. Already, priests and healers stood, ready and waiting for the wounded and dying to arrive.

Sarya sighed at that. She didn't want to see the blood of her beloved people spilled on these ancient streets. She didn't want to see temples turned to slaughterhouses, nor did she wish to see the beautiful gardens burned and turned to battlefields or graveyards.

She'd do anything to keep her people safe, or to delay their suffering just a bit longer.

"How long do you think it would take for the other duchies to send forces?" she asked, as she passed by a group of healers, who bowed at her as she walked on by.

"If the Duke of Jadewall received word, he could theoretically have troops here within the week," Viktor said. "If he mobilized and marched immediately, at least. But he has even less men than us. So he'd have to wait weeks longer, for other dukes to rally to him before a sizeable enough force could mount a relief effort."

"That is assuming that Duke Thandor would even aid us," she said.

The man's attitude had turned quite cold towards her and her people, after she'd rebuffed his marriage offer the year before. She was not opposed to a match on principle, of course, but the ambitious duke had demanded that Fellhaven be annexed by his own duchy as part of the agreement. She would be happy to marry for an alliance, but she'd not sacrifice her own autonomy to do so.

Sarya frowned, though. If she had accepted the offer, perhaps the Iron Blades would have thought twice about attacking her city, since it would have been under the protection of Thandor and his other allies.

"It is in their best interests to," Viktor said. "If we fall, then the other duchies are next."

"Let us just hope they see things the same way," she sighed.

They ascended the dark marble staircase to her palace. The domed structure sat on a large hill, surrounded by verdant gardens. The gardens were so thick that they appeared almost as forests, so her palace seemed to be something out of a fairy tale, like a grand structure that rose out of an enchanted forest. The guards at the gate bowed low, and she and Viktor marched past them, into the gleaming entrance hall.

Statues and portraits of past dukes and duchesses gazed down from above. In times past, she might have gazed upon such portraits and statues in an attempt to think about what they may have done differently, or what wise course of action they would have taken. But there was no time for such trivial ponderings now.

She and her escort strode through the doorway into her council chamber. It was a rather plain room, thanks to a decree from one of her ancestors, who thought that the business of state and strategy should be free from gilded and trivial distractions. Seated at the round table at the center of the chamber were her advisers and vassal nobles. Some looked quite determined, others nervous or fearful. A handful looked upon her with barely-veiled disdain; no doubt they blamed her for the invasion, or thought she should have done things differently.

"Well?" an old, fat baron asked. "How does it look?"

"Not good," Sarya sighed, and relayed what she and Viktor had seen beyond the walls. Of course, she left the part out about the shaman being roughly fucked by those warriors. Her eyes took on a far-off gleam for a moment, then she focused on the task at hand, and rested her delicate fingers upon the tabletop.

"Gods," one of the senior knights said. "They must have...thirty thousand men out there, in order to encircle our city like that."

"Maybe a bit more, by my estimate," Viktor said darkly.

"And we have what, five thousand?" another knight said. "It is futile. We cannot stand-"

"We can, and we must," Sarya snapped. "We have the supplies to hold, and gods know what horrors would befall our city if they breach the walls. Our riders will soon be making it to the other duchies, and the other dukes and duchesses will see the wisdom of aiding us. If we fall, so will they."

"If we fall, the Iron Blades will be weakened," one of the other advisers spoke up.

He was a tall, lean man with dark curls that fell to his shoulders, and a thin, finely-groomed beard. The sorcerer was dressed in a dark grey coat and fine trousers and riding boots, with a cloak made of some sort of reddish fur that he had never identified.

His name was Brunloc, and he had served her family for more than a century. And in all that time, he had never aged a day, always appearing as if he was in his mid thirties. Despite his strange and aloof nature, not once had the sorcerer ever betrayed Sarya or her kin, though the rumors about the man did make her skin crawl.

"Ah, the famed sorcerer states the obvious," said one of the merchants on the council. "Thank you for the input."

Brunloc smirked and turned his light grey eyes onto the merchant, who squirmed beneath that piercing gaze.

"My point is that the other duchies may delay for just that reason, knowing that we will bleed and weaken the Iron Blades, making them easier for the others to defeat, later on down the line."

His voice made her shiver, for it was raspy and cold, like the sound of a sword leaving its scabbard.

"That...that was my fear as well," Sarya admitted. "That some duchies would see this as an opportunity to strike later, and to seize Fellhaven once the weakened horde has been crushed."

"We cannot let that happen," another knight said. "The other duchies must see the wisdom of-"

"What we need is time," Brunloc said, ignoring the knight's glare as he interrupted. The sorcerer turned to stare at the duchess. "If we hold for long enough, the other duchies will realize Fellhaven won't easily fall. And they'll have more time to gather enough forces to make an attack on the Iron Blades that won't end in disaster."

"Again, more wondrous wisdom from the famed sorcerer," the merchant said drolly, with a roll of his eyes.

Sarya frowned. The merchant did have a point; Brunloc was really just stating the obvious.

"And do you have any specific suggestion as to how to hold out that long?" she asked.

Brunloc smirked, which in her experience meant he had something devious in mind.

"I do. But you won't like it. And the other fancy advisers certainly won't like it, either."

"Some sort of black magic ritual, no doubt," Viktor growled.

Though both he and Brunloc were faithful servants of the city, there was little love between them. Viktor preferred to be upfront, to fight with strength and steel, while Brunloc preferred secrets, strange sorcery and daggers in the dark.

She knew she'd have to rely on both men, though, if her city was to survive.

"Out with it," Sarya said.

Brunloc's smirk grew even more devious.

"The suggestion would be better-suited for a private conversation."

Her eyes narrowed, wondering what madness was burning behind those grey eyes.

"Very well. Everyone out, save for Brunloc."

Most of the advisers rose, but a few grumbled or glared at the mage. Viktor, though, did not budge.