Chapter 94: The Fertility Festival
Exiting out of the lord’s office, Squirt froze as she came face to face with Cirn, the woman looking like she’d swallowed a frog and was surprised she hadn’t spat it out yet.
Squirt gave her a glare, shutting the door behind her, furious that she was still running into fey. Giving the woman a curt bow, Squirt darted into the shadows of the keep, eager to get the fuck away from the everything that had just happened.
It took less than a minute for Pakos to appear beside her, trotting along the stone hallways and otherwise remaining frustratingly silent.
He wasn’t ignoring her.
She did, however, ignore him.
Pompous prickhead pooch—
With the revelries well underway, Squirt didn’t run into any other fey, but to her great annoyance she was followed by one persistent veiled woman. Cirn didn’t say anything, clearly lost in her own thoughts as she followed after Squirt, for once not constantly scanning for danger.
Shit. Something had to be wrong with her.
When they reached the stable without running into anyone else, Squirt slowed and turned to stare at the lady wringing her hands, a clear question on her mind that she hadn’t voiced. Squirt gestured at the open door out of the stables and muttered, “Shouldn’t you, I don’t know, be out there? Celebrating?”
“Ah.” Cirn only just seemed to realize where they were, glancing around and wiping hands on her silken clothes. She was more covered than usual in her casual dress, a head covering over her loose hair, not quite hiding it from sight, but certainly dulling the shine. Instead of playing with her hair, she fidgeted with her veil. “Are you leaving for the hunters’ clearing?”
Squirt clocked the deflection, noting what was likely actually bothering the lady as none of her gods damned business. “Probably,” she muttered in response.
Cirn didn’t ask any follow up questions, turning towards a side room. Squirt retrieved Mole from his stall, glad that at least one creature didn’t make her question her sanity.
I am right here, mother dearest.
She shot back, You’re part of the problem.
He seemed oddly accepting of this fact, offering no quip in return.
Cirn returned holding Squirt’s saddle, that same thoughtful, faraway look to her eyes and shocking Squirt from her own thoughts.
Squirt had never been so furious to have someone help her unprompted. Still seething, she accepted the saddle from the lady, putting it on Mole’s back in silence, deciding that Pakos was just being a brat and the greenlings here didn’t need her, anyway.
They didn’t.
They didn’t.
Silence fell between them. Suspicious silence.
Squirt eyed the nonchalant hound again. No feedback. No commentary. No sass.
Asshole.
Whatever. She could appreciate the silence as it let her focus on her task and not the enormity of one hundred greenlings appearing in the fucking Outskirts—
Cirn’s voice broke through Squirt’s spiraling thoughts once more. “Do… do you think it… wise for me to…”
Squirt glanced over her shoulder at the ice fata staring longingly at the faint glow through the doors.
Gods. Had the world frozen over? Cirn was seeking Squirt’s romantic advice?
What the fuck was wrong with the world?
Turning back to the saddle, Squirt continued moving as she answered bluntly and sharply, “Do what you want. It’s your life.”
“Even if it interferes with my duty? My… oath?”
Finished cinching the saddle and starting on the bridle that Cirn silently handed over, Squirt muttered, “I’m not your fucking mother.” Her movements slowed until she stilled entirely, the enormity of Dusty’s appearance weighing over her once more. More softly, she murmured, “I won’t stop you from being a fool.”
“You think it might be foolish?” Concern and clear nerves made Cirn’s voice squeak.
Squirt shook her head, frozen in a moment of indecision.
Should she stay? Was it her duty to?
A hundred greenlings.
How many of them did she know?
What were they even hoping to accomplish? Dusty’s offer was in exchange for staying in Everwinter until spring came, meaning that they were expecting to return after. This nonsense about policies to apply to the larger country, policies they wanted to enact here when they were already offering to put themselves on the line—
Change on that scale was impossible. They were fools for even trying.
Fey didn’t change.
Pakos sidled up behind her, curling around her back and offering his silent support. No judgement. No requirements. Leaving her free to make whatever choice she wanted.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
Even the wrong one.
The irony of the thought made her bare her teeth in a grimace of anger back into moving, finishing the last buckle on Mole’s reins. “Romance is stupid and so are the fey. Indulge. Don’t indulge. Just pick one.” Finished, she gripped the reins to lead Mole out and into the night, muttering under her breath, “I don’t care. I don’t.”
Just as she reached the exit, she heard the soft, “You don’t sound like you don’t.”
Squirt didn’t acknowledge the words as she ran out into the night, determined to make her bid for freedom while she still could.
This wasn’t her problem. She was no longer one of them. She had turned every bit of greenling code on its head, not the least of which being—
No.
Shoving away all thoughts of tomorrow, of the pest, of the greenlings sent to the fucking Outskirts, Squirt led Mole through the empty keep and towards the lights of the festival.
Sneaking through the back alleys, Squirt had one thought play on repeat over and over in her mind as she stewed in her anger.
Fuck Dusty.
The fucking brat just had to ruin everything. She was having such a splendid, wonderful time, too, and now she had to escape the keep with a moon hound and an elk—albeit a small one—during one of the four biggest festival celebrations of the year.
The fertility festival.
The irony was not lost on her.
Technically, it was just a seasonal change, but the celebrations had come to have particular themes. Spring to summer was about growth, summer to autumn was fertility, autumn to winter was death, and winter to spring was rebirth.
Fey festivals were always full of sex, but this one was an excuse. Sometimes whole neighborhoods got into giant orgies of writhing flesh and enthusiastic ecstasy. All of it was a celebration of the God of Love, Goddess of Life, Goddess of Fertility, and God of Harvest, often with one in particular being emphasized depending on the region and local customs.
For the average fey, acts of pleasure were considered done in service to the gods, yada yada, if they boned the gods would be pleased and it’d lead to a good harvest, good grades, good performance, whatever.
More realistically, it meant inhibitions were drastically lowered. That hot fey next door that ignored you yesterday would accept today as a heat-of-the-moment choice during the orgy. Plus it was a rare chance for fey to show off their, uh, flexibility, which could lead to being accepted as a brothel worker—a highly sought after and competitive title that was notoriously hard to get accepted for—or a new romantic interest inspired by what they saw, or, truthfully, just the thrill of the performance.
She had been hoping to avoid walking in on other fey fucking for a while since Anvanil was still acting awkwardly around her and she could not unsee certain aspects of Zakam’s anatomy—
But alas.
Her hand worked just fine.
And if it didn’t, the pest was coming tomorrow.
That thought happened to her as she was darting through the castle exit and she came to a sudden stop, her eyes wide, shocked that had even happened. Then she silently began cursing herself as she continued, annoyed that he was already distracting her—
Cutting through the alleyways, she struggled to find a path that wasn’t full of fey fucking. Most were doing it out in the open, but enough liked the semblance of privacy that an alleyway provided, the thrill of fucking in public without as many eyes on them. And, unfortunately, Pakos could only cloak her and himself.
Meaning that Mole was the one drawing attention.
Even in the throes of ecstasy, seeing a random elk fully tacked up and riderless as it trotted through the alleyways with purpose was rather eye-catching. He earned more than a few curious glances and confused looks, one fey asking jokingly, “Is the beast looking to join?” before he was smacked by his partner.
Damnit all, she should have used the gods damn bolt hole.
Keeping to the lesser streets, letting Pakos help guide her, and going around the very, very long way to avoid most of the celebrations, she made it almost to the wall when a familiar sight made her stop in her tracks.
A gang of fey that were clearly rejected, looking rather brutish and unattractive, had cornered a greenling.
In the dark, it was hard to make out color, but only a greenling would be on their knees with their head pressed into the ground, their very essence subservient.
“Come now, little greenie, why don’t you stand up so you can take my cock, hm? We need to celebrate the gods, after all,” came the slimy voice.
Squirt didn’t recognize any of these fey, and they were clearly on the weaker end of the scale. It happened frequently that those with little power themselves used any excuse to exert it on the weakest. Based on their clothing, they were from the Capital. It wasn’t quite hardy enough for the Outskirts, though it was dirty and well-worn.
Then the greenling spoke, and sixty years of memories slammed into Squirt all at once.
“P-please forgive me, masters, and let me pass—I’m only looking for food, I swear—”
Puds.
“I’ll give you something to eat, just sit up and open your mouth like a good little servant—”
Squirt and Pakos moved as one. Pakos dropped the moon’s cloak, rushing forward to stand between the kneeling greenling and the group of fey as Squirt darted behind him, keeping low to the ground and hidden in Pakos’s shadow. Pakos let out a growl that had the gang of fey stepping back nervously.
“Shit, what—”
“Feybeast?!”
“—get the Guard—”
“Run!”
“I’ll save you, darling!”
The last one almost had Squirt rolling her eyes, the fey clearly brave but stupid.
Squirt slid to a stop by Puds’ side, grasping her shoulders to make her raise her head. There was a split second of stunned awe on Puds’ face before she grasped Squirt’s hand, scrambling to her feet. With a whistle, Mole was there in a flash, and Squirt leapt into his saddle, reaching out a hand.
Puds hesitated, her blue-green eyes wide on the steed before she took the offered hand. As soon as Squirt could pull her up behind herself, Mole took off, needing no further encouragement.
Can I eat them, mother dearest? Can I? Can I?
Squirt looked over her shoulder and glared at the hound. Don’t you fucking dare.
She did not need that shit coming back to bite her tomorrow. Not with a hundred others that could come back on.
Damn it.
Fucking all as one bullshit—
Pakos mentally sighed, giving one last threatening growl before taking off after her.
Having almost nowhere left to go, Mole took them directly to the main thoroughfare of the town where booths, stands, and hawkers had a full festival market on display. Mole was forced to slow, his feet prancing at the larger crowd, and fully drawing the eyes of every fey there.
Gods fucking damn it all.
Puds squeezed Squirt’s waist, burying her face in her back and quietly crying. In a whisper, she said, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I was just—we were hungry after the journey, and—”
Squirt interrupted, “Let me guess, you offered to go look for food?”
Puds nodded into her back.
Pulling Mole to a stop, Squirt sighed, tilting her face up to the night’s sky. “… and I’m going to guess the others are waiting for you to return?”
She nodded again.
This night was just not going as planned.
“Athereon?”
The fey who said it, one of the off-duty Guard members, was swiftly elbowed in the gut by her companion, but the whispers had started and the damage was done.
Scowling at them all, she kicked Mole into as quick of a pace as he could do down the busy street—glad that at least the main thoroughfare lacked any fey having sex between the market stalls—and then directed him around the corner to a lone guard station. Dismounting with a huff, she told Mole, “Stable,” as Puds slipped off him after her. Squirt took her hand, entering the small hut and nodding to the orc on duty, who grunted out, “Welcome back.”
Squirt scowled and bowed politely, but otherwise moved to the hatch behind the orc, lifting it and dragging Puds in after her to the bolt hole.
Gods, she really hoped the prickly quartermaster was in.