The Merry Llewd

There was a knock on the door and then the Abbess let herself into the wood paneled office.

“You forgot to put the ward on the door again,” she said, placing a hand on her hip and shifting weight to one hoof. She took the scene in with a smirk.

One of her bosses, Cinnamon Music, was laying on the desk, exposing much more of her dark purple pelt than usual. Her bat-like wings were spread wide, clearly having scattered papers from the desk onto the floor. With a gasp, she tilted her head back over the edge of the desk and took in the interloper with pink/violet eyes, her mouth was an “O” of shock, but her slit pupils were still wide with arousal. Her tight, tri-colored curls dangled and bounced loose down the front of the desk.

“Oh” she panted. “Abbess.” She recovered her shock quickly and smiled. “Maybe we were hoping you’d join us,” she said breathlessly. Her large, round breasts had been freed of their bodice and were heaving. Large, firm, dark nipples pointed toward the ceiling.

“Hmm. It has been a while,” The Abbess smiled and walked deeper into the room. Her austere, business-like dress rustled, and suddenly felt a bit constricting in places over her dark blue pelt.

Count Patagium, The Abbess’ other boss was just catching his breath. He was standing behind the desk, holding his wife’s fetlocks in his hands. Cinny’s dainty hooves pointed toward the opposite corners of the ceiling. “You’re always welcome, Abbess.”

“I’d love to, but there’s a slightly pressing matter. Besides, Chatter Lee and I broke in the new guard recruit just this morning. I think the poor fellow is going to be standing on wobbly legs for the rest of his watch.”

“Just try not to break them too badly.,” the Count said with a chuckle. “Well,” he sighed, “duty calls.” He pulled his stiff member out of his wife with a shloomp. It sprang free, trailing a mix of pre and her juices. He sat back in his chair and began to button his dress shirt. He only made it halfway up before his nimble fingers fumbled with bare fabric. Then he glanced around the room and shrugged with a sigh. “Guess I need a new shirt. Cinny, I think you keep the button merchants in business.” Fortunately, the royal seamstress was experienced with this kind of repair and ordered the specialty, imported buttons by the gross.

“Celestia! Such a tease,” Cinny ejaculated. She shot a glance at the Abbess, who did her best to look contrite and sympathetic. The Count’s ability to hold back and keep the mares on edge was well known throughout. He always delivered eventually, but more than a few mares had been brought to begging.

Cinny sat up pointed a finger at him. “This isn’t over mister.”

“Yes Ma’am,” he said obediently, then stood and gave her a gentle kiss on the lips, then another long, tonguey kiss on each swollen nipple that elicited a guttural “unf” from both mares. “Such a tease,” Cinny muttered again.

The blue unicorn nodded. “I think the Count likes keeping as many mares in the castle wet at any given time as possible.”

“Kind of like you and Chatter Lee do to the stallions?” Cinny retorted playfully as she reluctantly began tucking herself back into her bodice and straightening her dress.

The unicorn chuckled. “I do my best, but I’m hardly in her league. “I had to whip up a special performance potion for her husband that time you took all the castle guards out for a training weekend. Poor guy.”

“Heh, Poor guy indeed.” The Count gave a knowing and sardonic smile as he, with some difficulty, maneuvered himself back into his pants.

Cinny finished putting herself back in order. Her horn glowed briefly. The glow spread over her disheveled purple, blue and pink curls. They writhed like snakes, reassembling themselves into neat, tight curls. “So what is this pressing matter?”

“Well... There are two actually. One is that the survey of the grain stores came in. It’s going to be a hard time if spring is late this year.”

Count shot a concerned glance out the diamond-paned window. It certainly didn’t look like their average winter outside. Their normal covering of snow was absent, leaving the streets and rooftops bare. Even worse, the fields on the slopes leading up to the surrounding mountains were bare, the tilled earth looking brown and ugly, exposed to the eroding winds. Spring would be dry without the snow melt from the mountains. Crops were going to suffer. If it was late as well, things could be bad. “Something’s not right about this winter, something vaguely familiar.”

“Count...” Cinny said with a touch of exasperation in her voice. “You’re off in your own world again?”

“Sorry…” He turned back to the royal apothecary, sometimes secretary, sometimes play partner, and always trusted advisor. “…lost in thought. This weather has been brutal lately, so cold, but so dry. ‘Too cold to snow,’ as my gran used to say. No more than the occasionally flurry in weeks. If we have to, we have to. Let’s start pricing replacement grain from the western plains.”

“I just suggested that.”

“Oh buck, I’m sorry.”

Cinny patted his shoulder. “This weather really has you concerned doesn’t it? You get too involved in things sometimes.”

“Heh. You should talk. But yes. There’s something about this winter that I can’t quite place. Like there’s something I should remember but I don’t.”

“If you want,” the Abbess cut in, “I can put Iron Gall to searching the archives.”

Cinny adjusted the buttons on her bodice once more. “That sounds like a good idea. Without the visitors we get in the warmer months, he’s getting a bit stir crazy as it is. He could use a good research project. You’d think there’d be a record of this if it’s happened before.”

The Abbess pulled out a long strip of telepyro paper, and scanned it with her deep blue eyes. “Which brings me to the other thing. It’s probably nothing more than a drunk guard, but if this report from Alpine Berry has anything to it, this winter is about to get stranger.”

She passed the paper to Cinny who scanned it quickly, sliding the long ribbon through her fingers. “Maybe it’s time to recheck the outpost for her cider stash.”

“Already suggested that to the next supply porters. She might be partaking while on duty again. They’ll be discreet though.”

Cinny passed the ribbon to count. “Giant cloven hoof prints? And rendered mares? What is that about?”

“Did you get to the part about tree horns? I can’t be him, can it?”

Count ran the last of the long strip through his dark grey fingers. “Hmm. I doubt it. Why mess with a distant guard outpost when you can teleport right into town and cause all sorts of trouble.” He put on his reading glasses and took a closer look at the paper. “Might also be worth checking that the telepyro is fully operating. This isn’t making a lot of sense.”

The telepyro involved a collection of magically linked pairs of lamps. Once linked, they could be separated by leagues, even continents, yet interfering with the one flame would effect its mate. With careful adjustments, the perturbations of one set of lams could cause another to scorch patterns into a strip of paper passing over them. A small set of keys controlling the flames could then be used to send messages.

They were finicky, requiring careful calibration and gentle treatment, but they were nearly impossible to eavesdrop on. They were also usually free from interference, except when large scale magical events were happening. “I think maybe the way the “e’s” are being transmitted—” the count started.

“Magical interference would only make it unreadable. It wouldn’t make it unintelligible like this.” Cinny looked to the Abbess for confirmation.

The Abbess shrugged. “I’ll send someone up to relieve Alpine and give the cabin and equipment a once over. He’s due for a break anyway. I we’ll figure this out.”