“Graduation PAR-TAY!” Marisol shouted as we reached the fancy nightclub that opened a few months ago.
It was in a privileged location in the capital but a few blocks removed from the central square, in the direction of the southern farms across the river Windere. For security and privacy reasons, we’d booked the whole place for ourselves because the [Queen] was attending our graduation party. We got down from our carriage as I wondered why the boys refrained from coming with us.
As I saw the greeters standing at the sides of the double doors, I understood why. Tall, handso, and muscular n with tight silk clothes that emphasized their bodies without being vulgar. A quick scan with my Perks told to expect the dress code inside the private venue to be less formal and more… lewd.
The interior was a mix between a dining hall and a tavern. A long bar ran across the wider side, with several bartenders eager to pour down the magical liquors in the kegs and exquisite bottles on shelves behind them. The lighting ca from magical lanterns, decorated and shaded to create an interesting contrast with lit and shadowed areas. Not that it worked on since I could see with the faintest illumination.
The venue could receive a hundred guests comfortably, with large corridors between the tables. The air carried a faint and relaxing sll of wildflowers and a group of bards with a lute, fiddle, and harp played a soft, muted incidental tune. Sounded like dieval elevator music, to be honest. The round tables had fewer seats and they had gaps between them. Instead of benches or simple chairs, they had high-backrest armchairs for the guests. They looked comfortable and had the slit for the tails at the base.
All the tables except one were bare, without anything on them. At the center of the hall, a larger table awaited us with a full set of tableware. Crystal flutes, gilded silverware, engraved porcelain dishes. Everything was of the highest quality, sothing fit for royalty.
Following the ushers, Marisol took the lead as we went to our table.
“I hope you are not angry at us for not telling you what this was,” Mirina whispered by my side. “We thought you reject the idea.”
I rolled my eyes. “I am not romantically or sexually interested in n. I don’t hate them.”
“Are you sure?” Jocelin asked on my other side. “Because the entertainnt here is… well, the n are the entertainnt.”
I groaned, “We had these clubs back on Earth. Trust , I’ve been to a few and I was a man back then. So long they don’t attempt anything involving , I’ll be fine.”
“And if they do, they won’t,” Camilla snickered in front of .
“They aren’t stupid. The entertainers here can tell if a lady is enjoying their attention or not,” lania soothed.
“What’s going on back there?” Marisol spun around and scanned us as she ntally replayed what she picked about our conversation. “Oh. Don’t worry. Do you see the embroidered antimacassar over the headrests? They have two sides.”
We reached the table and the [Priestess] of Zacheia showed us what they ant. “The lighter side up ans you are willing to receive the… attention of the entertainers,” she gushed as she clearly reminisced of previous visits. She demonstrated as she said, “Flip the antimacassar on the other side, the darker one if you don’t want them to co near you,” she finished staring at . Grinning, she added in a whisper, knowing my ridiculously keen hearing would pick up, “And no, this is not a brothel. When a lady wants… focused attention from an entertainer, they go to the side building. This is a classy place.”
“Thanks, Marisol,” I bead at her, then pated the hands of my two lovers to direct them to the chairs next to the one with the dark side up, “I won’t mind if you two want to keep it on the light side.”
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Mirina raised an eyebrow and waved her hand, drawing a simple {Prestiditgitation} spell to flip the cloth on a chair next to mine without touching it.
Once we sat, the [Bards] started to play their best songs and the barmaids brought a round of drinks along with so pastries and a cheese platter for each of us. The male entertainers moved at so distance, waiting to be invited closer by one of the ladies. Unsurprisingly, Marisol flagged one of them.
The term, ‘scantily clad’ didn’t describe the lycan Adonis that she called closer. His body wasn’t oiled but the moody lighting caused every single bulge of his muscular body to shine as it cast deep shadows at the sa ti. He approached the gap between Marisol and lania. The [Priestess] promptly smacked his exposed butt.
“You’ve been working out, Bruno!” She exclaid sultrily.
“Thank you, mistress,” he chirped back, sounding genuinely happy.
“Let’s see if you’re happy to see again!” She pulled his loincloth and it ca off surprisingly easily. Marisol frowned and booed. “NO? How co! Bruno!”
The soldier wasn’t standing at attention. Bruno lowered his head. “Truth is, he missed your gentle touch, mistress.”
I downed my drink. Within seconds, I had a refill. Focusing on the cheese platter in front of , I almost missed Marisol cooing and admonishing the soldier for being a bad boy. I’ll just say that if what Marisol was caressing was really a soldier, it wouldn’t be out of place as the star of any triple-A Hollywood movie. But it wasn’t a soldier and it still would be a superstar at the genre of movies where that kind of thing usually appeared.
Ignoring the I started to talk to Phyllis about her promotion to Knight-Lieutenant in the lamia corps. Camilla and lania had so entertainers dance for them, Marisol knew all of the n by na if not in the biblical sense. The liquor was great, the food was good, and I filtered out the rest as background noise.
Dinner was served, a six-course feast that was filling but not heavy. The [Bards] picked up the pace and soon the girls were dancing with the entertainers in front of the stage. I took Mirina and danced with her. The n didn’t bother us.
After several songs, we went back to our table to restore our energies with wine, cheese, ham, and dark ale. I was immune to poisons, alcohol included and the girls all had a ton of Attribute points but they were all in varied states of inebriation. Mirina was only tipsy because she had a few ranks of {Poison Resistance}, but the others were in the ‘fun’ stage of drunkness.
Still making sure Private Bruno’s Rambo wouldn’t feel lonely, Marisol raised her wine flute on the other hand. “A toast! A toast to Windere’s patron Goddess and savior, our friend extraordinaire, Haru!”
The girls squealed and raised their glasses. I was taken by surprise. Marisol surely grew into a splendid woman if she could lay such honest praise.
“Windere, let tell you! Before Haru,” She slurred, “Windere behind her old wall, round like a pubic mound, was a pussy everyone wanted to fuck! Every country but Ekar wanted to get a piece of that pussy!”
lania giggled, “Why not Ekar?” She asked just to keep the charade going. I suspected she knew the answer.
“Ekar was a limp stubby dick on the Uroko,” she said about the shape of the peninsula, then touched the flute to the soldier, “everyone knows a limp stubby dick is useless!”
Bruno shrugged comically in that “what can I do” way, poking his tongue off the side of his muzzle. We all laughed. Marisol finished her wine.
“Even the dwarves, they wanted to fuck Windere from behind! The audacity! But then Haru showed up!” Marisol made a chopping motion that caused Bruno to flinch in defense of his artillery piece. “She cut off their ambitions at the root!”
“Haru finally expanded our borders west and even circumcised Ekar’s limp stubby peninsula for good asure! I thought to myself, ‘Wait, Marisol, that’s not right. That shape is not right at all!’ Then finally, she fucked Leondirac and finished the new wall, and my mind was set at ease!”
“Why!” A smirking Camilla clamored for an explanation. All the girls were pretty drunk by now.
Marisol unfurled an updated map of Windere. She pointed at the wall starting by the southern mountains, rising north-northeast in almost a straight line, going across the Uroko and curving around Leondirac to descend back and rejoin the old wall.
“Haru turned Windere’s pussy into a neatly erect dick!”
I facepald as the whole nightclub laughed raucously at the [Priestess]’s antics. Worse yet, I could never again look at Windere’s new map without un-seeing the country’s sovereign military might… I could never un-see it. I almost flew off to demolish and rebuild the walls, but I didn’t. The damage was done.
It goes without saying that Marisol’s speech on Windere's "prowess" was immortalized by the bards. “The Ballad of the Erection of Windere’s Walls” was a raucous song about the wars and Windere’s “expansion”, with lots of double-crossing, double-entendres, and the perils of pissing off the wrong woman.
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