Chapter 1
Bianca was exhausted.
She stumbled through the tall grass, clutching her basket of freshly picked mushrooms in one hand and her skirt in the other, as she hastily made her way back to the familiar grounds of her cottage vicinity. It had been a long day of work for the young brunette beauty. She had set out early in the morning to the perimeter of her land in order to reinforce the magical shield that protected her peaceful home from the dark monsters that threatened her and the humans who lived within the kingdom. Along the way, she harvested the magical flora that grew in the forest for her potions and general sustenance. Her cheeks were flushed from her elevated heart rate, and her sparkling hazel eyes gazed at the path in front of her.
I hold the kingdom's life in my hands... Bianca thought to herself, and she chuckled as she continued on her stroll back home. And it was a fair assessment. King Lyran II of Arborynthia was a good and honest king who, in a desperate plea to save his people from evil monsters sent from distant attackers, begged the Mages of the neighboring territories to protect his people in exchange for a regular sum of gold and protection from bounty hunters.
It was far from a bad gig.
The sun was setting and the animals of the forest were quietly returning to their dens and nests. Bianca dropped her basket down from her slender arm to the side of her, and she fell down backwards into the soft grass. She groaned as her shoulders untensed and her muscles relaxed. A gentle breeze flew by, dancing through her long, silky brown hair and around her frame. Her delicate round nose cast a shadow on the side of her face. Lying down, she untied the knot holding her cloak around her neck.
What a perfect peaceful evening... just what I deserve, she thought to herself. She rested her hand on her forehead, shielding her eyes from the rich golden hue of the sun shining down on her body, rejuvenating her from the sky.
Her skin felt warm, and the ache in her body had taken a new form. Gently tracing her skin from her face, Bianca's hand stroked her neck, traced her chest, then down to the mound between her legs.
Spirits above... I wish someone were here to touch me like this... she thought to herself. She hastily sat up to unbutton her dress and pulled it off over her head, leaving her body clothed in nothing but her thin white slip. She rolled over and resumed her self-soothing, feeling herself as if she was inside the mind of a lover. Her eyes were closed in rapture as she squeezed her voluptuous breasts through the thin fabric, her legs rubbing against each other in the grass, accidentally causing her to kick her basket over. She pinched her nipples, sending waves of pleasure and moisture to her cunt. Her long brown tresses messily framed her face like a mermaid's; she looked like an ethereal painting.
Lost in her self-provided foreplay, she whimpered and writhed in pleasure amidst the magic of the evening scenery, unwittingly not alone...
Chapter 2
Galen was pissed. And very badly wounded.
He gripped his heavy knapsack which was oozing with thick black liquid and winced through the pain coursing through his bleeding arm. His face and auburn tresses were covered in grime, and his chest was covered in blood. His broad shoulders carried the dead weight of the mysterious sack slung around to his back. Galen was a strong rugged young man, a bit rough around the edges but otherwise very handsome, and in just the right setting with the right gestures, he could even be mistaken for a chivalrous knight.
He had been set up by his commanding leader of his guild of bounty hunters. For months, he was on the search for a monster that had been reported to destroy the northern towns and leave its villagers in bloody remains. Half a year prior during the end of frost, he was instructed to track this unnamed thing and bring back its horned head to present it on a bended knee as a punishment for speaking out in defiance against a new decree within his legion.
He recalled the scene. His leader Ragan had finished announcing to the pack in a solemn yet unflinching tone that any Mage they encountered should be killed on sight for the potential of finding a matching bounty. He was outraged that such a barbaric rule would be allowed to sully the name of his brotherhood. He had heard talk of other monster hunters joining the Mage-hunting bandwagon, after word had spread that the harsh rulers of the Northern kingdoms wanted every Mage in their continent eradicated. Galen wasn't interested in killing peaceful witches and wizards. Sure, they were kooky and insufferable, but they didn't cause any trouble. Well, if you count an attempted assassination of a Northern tyrant as "no trouble."
Four Springs ago, a rebel pack of Mages felt they had had enough of King Riohr's corrupt and evil laws. This group was shunned by their own group of wizard leaders, due to the threat of retaliation from the incredibly violent and merciless Northern king. It didn't stop the rebels.
On a dark clouded night, a ragtag troop of young witches and wizards infiltrated the icy stone walls of the Northern Fortress and silently killed their way through the opulent main hall of King Riohr's Tower. There, they were slain in a heap by guards who hid and waited after being given intel by an anonymous wizard who had an inexplicable reason to betray his kind. From then on, Riohr wanted every single person who could barely make a single drop of water float in the air killed. Anybody caught bending elements or casting spells throughout the kingdom were dragged by their necks or their wrists to be publicly executed by traveling Royal soldiers.
Magic was completely outlawed. And Mages were hunted in desperation for coin.
Times were tough. You couldn't enter any small village in the outskirts without hearing a mother wailing over her starving child. Everybody was desperate, and bounty hunters were no different. Galen did what he could to sustain himself, hunting beasts and native monsters for their parts, but it was barely enough to afford bread and milk, let alone toss a coin to some beggar he would too often pass by.