Honey and Wine Pt. 01

Content warning for non-consent, implied drug use, mind control etc.

***

"Ticket for one." Maldred grunted at the surly doorman, keeping a careful eye out for any additional security.

"2 crowns." the thug grunted back

This place didn't look like it was worth 3 crowns, a sunken doorway in a dingy back alley in the under-city. For that money Maldred could get a full meal and drink in the finest restaurants the city had to offer. Still, he could put it on expenses, 'the upside to fucking your captain' he mused to himself, slipping two golden pieces from his coin pouch.

"Fine, better be worth it."

The doorman simply smirked, and gestured for Maldred to head inside.

Not the level of security he'd expected, if this was where rifter magic rituals were happening. Three months the department had been chasing down leads like this, and so far nothing had panned out. Nothing except for a few murdered officers who stumbled down the wrong rabbit hole and found regular old criminality, drugs, cursed items, or the likes. Still, if the lead came from Sansha, this was probably worth checking out.

This clearly wasn't a common drug den.

The room ahead was bathed in a soft glow from a handful of torches on the wall, with a single, presumably magical, light putting the stage in bright focus. As his eyes adjusted, Maldred made out maybe two dozen other patrons spread around the surprisingly luxurious, but cramped lounge. A handful of staff flitted from table to table, giving the room an air of excitement and activity that seemed out of place for somewhere so out of the way. Maldred snorted in amusement, as he noted the presence of a particularly well-regarded member of the clergy, known in public for his puritanical sermons.

"Fucking priests, not surprising." he muttered under his breath, as he headed to the bar set off the side of the stage.

"Just a regular ale please Chief." he said, smiling at the slim half-elf behind the bar.

"Certainly, any preference? We have one from each city-state this week."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, Sir. We try to provide for out of town guests in the fiends' den."

"Is that right? You get many?" Maldred asked, trying not to sound too interested

"A few, those with the right... tastes anyway." the barman shot him a knowing smile

"Good to be in good company then! Give me one from here, no need for anything too fancy for little old me."

"Certainly, Sir." the half-elf nodded, turning to the tapped barrels behind him, and pouring one out.

Maldred surveyed the room.

One obvious exit, the way he came in, down a short corridor with a single doorman. Two other ways out, one behind the bar, and another to the side of the stage, though how far the outside was from those doors, he wasn't sure. The old city was a maze of warrens and caves, built before the church took over stewardship and planning. There was no telling how far back this structure went without exploring it. The only thing he knew for sure was that there was always an extra escape tunnel in a place like this.

"One ale, Sir."

"Thanks, how much?" Maldred reached for his coin pouch.

"Drinks are on the house, Sir." the barkeep smiled warmly, before gesturing to the room "Feel free to take a seat, the show is starting soon." the barkeep seemed to hesitate for a moment, looking over somewhere across the room, before adding, "there's a booth in the back free if you'd like, I believe we had a party booking cancel."

"Good tip, thanks."

Maldred slipped a silver piece from his pouch and set it down on the countertop, turning to find a seat. At the back of the room would be ideal, he was pretty comfortable with undercover work by now, but it was much easier to observe the goings on if you weren't in most people's eyeline.

He saw the last empty booth, a small, semi-circular padded bench with a low table in the centre, and nimbly navigated his way past the tipsy patrons chatting in huddled groups.

He heard the noise of instruments over the din, somewhere behind the stage curtains. The noise of a drum being set in place, string instruments tuning, and the shuffling of hidden players.

This was... unusual. Maldred wasn't quite sure what he was expecting here, the intel had been pretty light, but he hadn't expected some sort of musical performance. Sansha had described this place as being a suspected gambling den, not a back-street opera.

He took a few moments to observe the setup once more. A handful of tables near the stage, five booths around the rear of the room, though from here he couldn't see into most of the others. He could take a wander over to the bar if he needed to see more later, Maldred reasoned. For now, staying out of the way suited him.

His observations were interrupted by a preppy voice from his side, "Evenin' Mister. You got an appetite tonight? We got cooked meats and broth to keep your humours up!"

He looked up to his side to see a short woman dressed in a simple black and white skirt and low-cut chemise. Draped across her face was a sheer transparent veil, with a few jewels for decoration. "Uh, no, my humours are fine." Maldred tried not to seem too alarmed at being snuck up on, "But hey, if I need something, I can wave you down right?"

"Sure thing, sugar," she beamed, "I'll keep an eye on you, alright?"

Not ideal.

"No, no it's fine darling, I can attract your attention if I want to."

The waitress ruffled his hair, in an overly familiar way that took him by surprise, "I bet you could. Well you just sit there and enjoy the show, and I'll be back to check on you later cutie."

"Sure." he snorted, trying not to sound too offended by the unwelcome attention.

He watched, perhaps a little too attentively, as the waitress span on her heels and bounced away out of sight, moving effortlessly through the increasingly crowded room. The seating in the main floor was filling up now, as a sense of anticipation began to build. The staff were all retreating to the edges of the room, as Maldred realised that a steady low drumbeat was now playing, the pace ever so slowly building.

The torches around the edge of the room dimmed on their own, a clever trick, and the crowd slowly fell silent as the drumbeat quickened.

A man spoke, in a hushed tone that still reached out across the room, as the drum beat slowly built, joined by the sonorous thrum of a cello being drawn across. "Distinguished guests of the seven city-states. Fortunate admirers of the occult and divine alike. You lucky few. Welcome to a special show. Tonight, we take you back, to the first war of the rift, a piece of living history brought to life through the finest in magical alteration, physical athleticism, and natural beauty of course." There was a soft cheer of appreciation from the crowd, as the announcer continued. "The year is 221, the opening months of the war. Prince Ulford's column makes camp, outside the village of Yulderford, the last safe crossing from the North. As the soldiers make merry, drink and sing in their camps, the Prince and his entourage are enjoying the warmth of the village tavern!"

With that, the staff begin to mingle with the crowd, trays of drinks balanced expertly on their shoulders. Maldred couldn't help but notice the rapid change of costume. All the staff had changed into the same black and white chemise, skirt and veil combo that his waitress had worn before. Mead and Ale were handed out freely. A different waiter twirled past Maldred ignoring his polite refusal as they set a large tankard of the same Ale down in front of him. All around the room the Patrons murmured appreciatively.

The band started to play, an upbeat, folksy melody, as the announcer continued. "The war seemed far away that night. The running waters of Yulderford seemingly kept the fiends at bay, and guards stood watch on the only bridge. The village chief brought out dancers, to keep the royals entertained, in the hopes that they might save the village from what lay ahead."

As the announcer spoke, two women in elaborately tailored dresses swept to the stage, as the magical stage-light softened slightly. "Hildy and Bree" the announcer added, their voice sinking beneath the rising music, as the two women began to dance, in large, sweeping circles.

Maldred sighed, it wasn't the sort of thing he'd usually go to, but at least it was on the department's coin. Seemed hard to believe anyone would visit the old city for a history lesson, much less that they'd pay for the privilege. He took a sip of the surprisingly well chilled ale. At least the drinks were good, he conceded.

He tried to follow the story, but the announcer's voice was hushed, not quite drowned out by the noise of the band, but it took a little effort to follow. The announcer spoke of... the strategic importance of 'Yulderford', and of the skirmishes and deceits that led to the Prince's army stopping there. It was strangely informative, or perhaps fanciful? Maldred had read a little history, and he'd never heard of a battle of Yulderford. The conventional history was simply that Prince Ulford's column was lost in the inner woods, like most of the early battalions sent out at the start. It seems they were taking some... creative liberties with the story.

At least the dancers were good, and the music... and the ale. He looked down at his second glass, now empty. Before he had even raised an arm, his waitress had appeared at his side, "Hey Mister! Can I get you a refill?" she whispered, still maintaining that annoying preppy tone.

"Yeah, just a small one, thanks." Maldred whispered back.

"How about food? A lot of our patrons find they have more of an... appetite, once the show starts?" she flicked her head towards the stage, where the two dancers had changed outfits ('When had that happened?' Maldred wondered), and were now doing some sort of conversational routine with one of the tables at the front.

The waitress's fingers clicked in front of his face. He'd been staring and hadn't realised it, the new outfits were perhaps a little less substantial than you'd usually see on stage. The waitress leaned down, one hand on his back, "Hey, you look like you could use a good meal, come on, it's all included!"

Maldred frowned, might as well eat something if he's stuck here for a while, "Sure, mutton and bread if you've got it, otherwise I'll take whatever meat's going out first". The waitress rolled her eyes at him, "Oh you're really out of place here aren't you? What you win a big bet on cards or something?"

"Huh?" Maldred wasn't sure what she was getting at.

"Oh come on Mister, we serve the finest game in the region, and you're satisfied with a few pieces of mutton? You should indulge! Here, let me talk you through what we've got."

Before he could interject, she had taken a swift step across his front to get into the booth beside him. He thought about putting a hand up to grab her waist, but didn't want to draw the wrong sort of attention. She continued as she squished into the padded seat beside him, and laid a tiny slip of parchment down on the table, covered in incomprehensible writing.

"What is that? Is that even a real language?"

The waitress batted his arm playfully, "Of course it is cutie, but I don't expect they teach all the big strong soldiers like you to read, do they?"

"I'm not..." he went to correct her, then thought better of it.

"Don't worry," she continued, "I'll talk you through it. Feel free to keep watching the show, we're getting to a really good part!"

Maldred wiped his brow, it was getting warm in here, with all these bodies. The waitress sitting right up against his side wasn't helping much either, and he found himself cursing that he hadn't handed his cloak over at the bar.

"Ooh, look, you're going to miss it!"

He looked to the stage, where the lighting had noticeably changed, taking on a more deep orange hue. The music had changed too, no longer upbeat, it was a swirling rhythm of beats and strings. The dancers were making the most of it, having brought a young man from the audience up onto the stage, the two danced effortlessly around him, taking turns to take his hands, turning him to face them, only to let go as the other pulled at him from another angle, leaving him looking like a drunkard fighting ghosts.

Maldred laughed at the spectacle, only half paying attention to the narrator's monologue, "the Prince's chief bodyguard was no ordinary soldier, the young man charged with his master's safety was a wizard. A talented wizard with a flair for clairvoyancy. The young man had been suspicious, on edge, that night, but now... plied with alcohol, and caught up in the dance..."

The two dancers had spun the poor lad on stage into a stupor, he was almost falling over, when they twirled him off to the back of the stage, tumbling through the curtain out of sight. Maldred, and a few others, craned their necks to see what was going on. The narrator continued... "the first bodyguard, the only one who might've seen through their disguises, was out of the way. The prince, and his generals, now had no idea that the two innocent village girls before them were in fact..."

With a flourish of music, the two dancers bent over double, before launching themselves upwards, their (ever more exposed) skin instantly changing colour before the crowd's eyes, to a pastel lilac, and a deeper purple. Maldred gasped, as did many others in the crowd. It was a spectacular trick, even though he had a rough idea of how they did it. The dancers seemed to hang in the air a moment, before it became clear what they were holding on to. Suspended from the rafters were a handful of silks, that had seemed to be just part of the set at first.

Maldred flinched as he felt the waitress's hand on his thigh. She had been saying something, and it had taken him far too long to realise. "So, what do you fancy? You have an appetite yet?"

He winced, trying to make it seem like he hadn't completely tuned out the server "uh, sorry, could you just repeat those last two options again"

"Of course!" she beamed, gently squeezing his thigh. 'Overfamiliar' he thought. "Impish Delight, which is mostly sugared cream and berries, or 'Honey and Wine' ", she giggled "like the dancers".

"huh?" he, didn't get the joke.

"Oh, spoilers! Sorry!" she laughed quietly, "I can tell you more about it, but uh, like, we have to stay quiet so we don't spoil the show, can you do that cutie?"

Maldred pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course he could keep quiet, he'd been doing it most of his career. He simply nodded. The waitress motioned back to the stage as she leaned closer, whispering in his ear, he leaned away slightly, but she didn't seem to get the message. "Ok, look at the one on the left, the light pink one doing a handstand. So, the story goes, that's "Honey". The one on the right, the purple one, that's "Wine". Supposedly, those two were legendary warriors from beyond the rift, who unusually always fought together."

Maldred just nodded, pretending this was common knowledge, as he watched the two dancers on stage. They'd changed clothing again whilst he wasn't looking, now wearing just a set of lingerie each, complete with stockings and gloves that covered almost the entirety of their limbs. That didn't hide the additional props they'd put on though, hooved feet, which did a surprisingly good job of highlighting their muscular legs as they cartwheeled through the air.

The announcer's voice had almost faded behind the pulsing music now, so Maldred was grateful for the waitress's voice in his ear as she explained more. "The legends go, that Honey was one of the most gifted fighters in the armies of the rift, so named because, if you were too slow, she would simply... flow around you." as she said this, Honey launched herself from the stage, landing among the tables, striding deftly through the crowd she ducked and weaved between the many grasping, groping hands, whilst reaching out and caressing the crowd as she passed by. In one leap she bound across a table of obvious off-duty mercenaries, plucking a dagger from ones' belt as she did so, and lazily tossing it back to the stage, where the second dancer swept down to examine it. "The other one, Wine, was, again, according to legend, able to incapacitate men and women alike by her mere presence. They said that, with Wine in your lap, it was as if you had drunk all the alcohol in the kingdom. Anything would seem possible, anything would seem reasonable."

The dancer, 'Wine', on stage made a mocking gesture towards the man who had his knife confiscated, before sliding it back off the stage and following Honey into the crowd.

"So, uh, Honey and Wine?" Maldred struggled to find the words to ask... anything.

"So, they worked together, starting with the soldiers." The waitress gently nudged his jaw closed as she pointed him towards Honey, who was now dancing lavisciously for a party in one of the booths. "You see, before the prince arrived, they had prepared their battlefield, as you can see in our... recreation here."

Maldred squinted, trying to work out what she meant.

"Don't watch her dancing, that's just the distraction, look under the table."

Maldred did, and saw a sinewy tail deftly guiding a strip of fabric around each patron's ankles, before its owner, Honey, swivelled away to the next group, two booths away from him now.

"Don't worry, you can say no, but it's all part of the fun." the waitress whispered in his ear, her hand uncomfortably close to his crotch now. He realised he was enjoying this perhaps a little more than he'd planned, considering he was supposed to be working.

"It's okay, you're allowed to enjoy it." the waitress whispered, giving him just the gentlest touch with the back of her hand. He winced, and turned to tell her off when a whirling shape burst into life at the edge of their booth. It was 'Honey'. She was even more gorgeous up close, and somewhere around the circuit she had discarded her bra, leaving Maldred staring impolitely at her firm chest, stammering, "I, uh, I uh..."

"she's going to ask if you want to be tied up, you can say no." the waitress whispered, her hand now touching him more brazenly.

Honey simply swayed in place, her hands pulling his gaze up towards her sharp face as she smiled warmly down at him, the prosthetic fangs glinting in the torchlight "Hey prettyboy, mind if I play with you?"

He burst out his "no", trying not to give away that the waitress was starting to play with him through his trousers as the rest of the room watched on. He didn't really notice the phrasing of the question, distracted as he was. Nor did he notice the sound of metal on wood as his own dagger was nimbly taken from his boot and slid beneath the benches.

It was only as he felt the strap tightening around his ankle that he realised his mistake, but it was too late, Honey's swaying smiling face had disappeared in a flash as she moved to the next booth. He could fix that in a moment, his attention was definitely elsewhere now. "Please stop" he cussed at the waitress, still under his breath. He was conscious that the audience was still looking their way, and he didn't want to attract too much attention given his reasons for being there.

"But you're enjoying it, and it's all part of the fun..." the waitress said, innocently, "this is just like it would've happened too, it's just a matter of history, "she gently circled the head of his cock through the trousers, gently squeezing as she continued, "and if it's just a matter of history, it's already happened, so you might as well let it happen, right?"

That didn't sound quite right to Maldred, but he was quite drunk, and he wasn't sure how to argue with it. He looked down, as subtly as he could manage, past his two empty drinks, to the waitress's hand, and the leather strap around his ankles. "No... I mean... This isn't what I came here for..."