Lord Amplevine's Revenge Pt. 01

"And you can keep it up even while you're distracted? Because you seem very distracted right now."

"I once held it on three people at once while I had a knife to my throat." She grinned and tapped the silver chrysanthemum hanging from her neck with a finger. "The Chrysanthemum Knights don't just give these out to anyone who steps into the White Keep, my lady."

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Silvercreek Manor and Amplevine Manor were both in the same district of the city, only a few blocks apart, in fact. The distance was short enough that it was faster to simply walk than to wait for a carriage to be prepared, so walk they did. They made for quite a sight, the two of them. Synnøva was dressed modestly- her chest was completely covered, but it was impossible to hide its size, and Astrið, still unused to her new burdens, was making a show of them with the way that she constantly stopped to adjust the way that they sat in her borrowed dress, pulling the neckline up and down every so often. This caught the attention of passers-by, which seemed to make Astrið self-conscious. She flushed, anyway, and fussed with them even more whenever she noticed someone looking. Yet even despite all of this, Synnøva noticed that whenever she passed near a bush or a tree (there were lots of them lining the streets in this part of the city), their branches, leaves, and needles were pushed away from her. Even the dust and dirt on the ground kept away from her.

She had never formally studied any sort of magic, but she had read a few books on the subject, and it was her understanding that sorcerers generally had to repeat an incantation or perform gestures of some sort in order to keep a spell going. Astrið was doing nothing of the sort. Indeed, she spent most of her time fussing with her chest, yet the spell never even wavered.

"They itch. A lot. Is that normal?"

"It is when they're sweaty, which they will be often, even on cool days, so get used to that if you're actually planning on keeping them."

"They're definitely not sweating up here." She patted the exposed tops of her breasts. "It's sort of a tingly feeling. Prickly. And it feels like it's coming from inside of them."

Synnøva looked at her. "That isn't normal."

"Lord Amplevine's spell, maybe," said Astrið with a grimace. "Perhaps it does do something, and it's finally started. Let's hurry..."

By the time that they arrived, Astrið was quite red-faced (though the spell still hadn't broken), which worried Synnøva. It wasn't that long or intense of a walk, even though they had done it quickly. The gates surrounding Amplevine Manor were closed, but standing watch was a single city watchman, rather than Halvar's personal guards. He gaped at the two of them as they approached, but especially at Astrið.

"I am Synnøva Krigsdotir, Lady Silvercreek, and this is Master Astrið Issansdotir of the University. Let us inside, please. We have business with Lord Amplevine."

"Right. Captain said you'd be coming," said the guard as he unlocked the gate. "Though he didn't mention, erm..."

"Mention what?" said Synnøva coolly.

"Er, nothing of importance, my lady. Please, enter."

As he closed the gate behind him, Astrið whispered, "Hey, he was handsome, huh?" Synnøva rolled her eyes.

The manor itself was a flood of bad memories. Synnøva had spent a year of her life here, and when she had left she vowed that she would never take a step past those awful, gaudy, mahogany doors again, yet here she was. But these were special circumstances.

Captain Eadwig was right there in the foyer, along with five armed and armored watchmen and a few members of Halvar's household staff. The guards were talking to some of them, asking questions about their master's whereabouts. He bowed stiffly at the two of them when they entered. "My lady. Master, ah..." He trailed off, staring at Astrið's chest.

"I have completed my investigation of the figurine, and I can verify that it does indeed do what Lady Silvercreek claims it does. I can have my findings confirmed by another Master if you wish, but I don't think that will be necessary, do you?" She actually grabbed one of her breasts with her hands as she said it, and Eadwig's eyebrows disappeared under the rim of his helm.

"Yes, um. The evidence that you present is very compelling. May we have the figurine back now? It is, also, evidence." He fumbled and nearly dropped it as she handed it to him, even though she put it directly in his hand. Then he coughed. "Right. Well. It appears that Lord Amplevine is not here."

"What?" said Synnøva.

"According to his servants he entered, fled to his chambers, and left again immediately. We are interrogating the staff to see if anyone knows where he may have gone off to."

"Halvar doesn't tell his servants anything. If he's run off to hide, they won't know where he went. Have you checked his bedchambers?"

"I was just about to do that personally, my lady."

"He keeps a diary there, in the drawer on the bedstand. He writes it in Shalian, and because he's a fool, he thinks that that will be enough to keep anyone from reading it. He's not careful about what he puts in it, so there might be some clue there as to where he's gone. None of his servants speak Shalian, but she does." She gestured at Astrið. "Right?"

"Hmm? What?" All of the city watchmen and nearly all of the servants were staring at Astrið's chest, and she was staring back at all of them, fidgeting oddly. "Oh. Yes. Faeza Shalam pazhëbanam."

"See, there you go." She headed off towards the master bedchamber, and Eadwig and Astrið both followed after her. She still remembered the way, of course. Up the stairs in the foyer, left, then right at the statue that Halvar had made of his father, then right again at other statue.

"He has a statue of himself?" Astrið asked, looking up at it.

"Which he keeps right outside his bedchamber, yes," said Synnøva.

"My lady, I mean no offense by this, but what on earth did you ever see in him?"

She shrugged weakly. "It was an arranged marriage." Technically true, but her father had given her a choice of half a dozen other noble bachelors at the time. Halvar had seemed like the least detestable of the bunch, but looking up now at that stony face of his (he was smug even as a statue) she couldn't remember what it was about him that had made her think that.

"How did you manage to get out of it?"

"It was that figurine. When I refused to let him use it on me, he started an argument. 'Why don't you ever do anything for me? Why can't you do this one little thing for me?' I kept telling him no, over and over again. I did a lot of things for Halvar, but that was where I drew the line. He's like a child- when he doesn't get what he wants he whines and cries at you until you give in just to shut him up, but I wasn't going to do that for him. When he realized that, he hit me."

There was a long silence. Astrið and Eadwig looked uncomfortably at each other. "Did you not call the city watch?" said Eadwig. "We would have-"

"The magistrate who showed up ruled that I had provoked him. He was charged with a misdemeanor, fined five øre, which you can probably understand is hardly even pocket change for him, and they went on their way. I decided that if Branturhem's justice system would do nothing about it, I would. I went back to my father's home, and he believed me. My engagement was broken, and I vowed that Halvar would never be allowed to touch me again." She sighed. "A week later he broke into my father's home and tried to curse me, and so here we are." She stepped into the bedroom.

The first thing that she saw was the bed, and she shivered at the sight of it. The first few nights she had been enthusiastic- for all his many, many flaws, Halvar was still physically attractive, or at least she had thought so back then. It had taken about two weeks of disappointingly brief periods of intimacy and flaccid apologies afterward before she realized that he didn't care in the slightest what she got out of these exchanges. In the year that they had been engaged he had fucked her probably a hundred times on that bed, and she could count the number of times that she had finished on one hand. They were all, she was sure, quite by accident on his part.

"Oh, my lady! I didn't expect to..." It was Bjarna. Oh, right. He had been sent to gather her things. He gaped openly at Astrið, who gave him a smile and a little wave.

"Hello. There's, uh, been an incident since the last time that you saw me."

"Yes I see!" he said, and his voice cracked. Astrið laughed.

"Bjarna, how long have you been here? Have you seen Lord Amplevine?"

"I, uh, yes. I have." He said it directly to Astrið's chest, then realized that he had said it to Astrið's chest, blushed furiously, and looked very determinedly at Synnøva's eyes. "Yes!" he repeated. "He ran in a few minutes ago. I was over there in the corner gathering your things from the closet. I waved at him, but he was in such a rush that I don't think he even saw me. He was muttering things..."

"What kinds of things? Did you hear any of it?"

Bjarna shifted on his feet uncomfortably. "Erm. Yes. He was calling you some very terrible names, my lady."

"Of course he was," she said flatly. "Did he say anything about where he was going?"

"Not as such, but, er... He was saying things about a demon, and I think that he mentioned a snake? And er... He grabbed a book from that bedstand over there, looked something up in it. Then he hid the book away and left."

"That'd be the diary," said Synnøva. She opened the drawer on the bedstand, and frowned. There was no book there.

"Did you see where he hid it?" asked Astrið.

"Er. Yes." Bjarna fidgeted nervously, but was silent.

"Well?" Synnøva tapped her foot impatiently.

"It's just... Erm..."

"Boy, if you don't tell us where that book is, I'm going to charge you with obstruction of justice," growled Captain Eadwig, and he paled.

"Easy, Captain," said Astrið. "It helps to try the carrot before you reach for the whip. How about this?" She put her hands on Bjarna's shoulders. "I'll let you touch my chest if you tell us where that book is."

Eadwig stammered. "Master Astrið! Surely you can't think that this is appropriate behavior for an official investigation!"

"It'll work though," said Synnøva. "How about it, Bjarna? I can't fathom why you're hesitant to tell us this, but if you do you'll get a feel of what are probably the biggest breasts in the world. She's bigger than me now, you know."

"My lady! Master Astrið!" Bjarna was actually visibly shivering now. "None of this is necessary! I will tell you, of course! It's just that... The place where he hid it, there were some things in there that I don't think you'll like, my lady. I wish I hadn't seen them myself, to tell the truth."

"Oh dear." Synnøva frowned. "What do you mean by that? What was in there?"

"Well, I... I don't think that Lord Amplevine is, uh... Quite right in the head. I know that I'm not supposed to say that about a man of his status, but after seeing what he... It's on the other side of the room, there. You see that painting?" He pointed. It was a landscape depicting one of the Amplevines' famous vineyards, framed in gold leaf. "If you push it to the side, there's a little catch on the wall underneath. Pull it, and, ah..."

Synnøva had already done so. There was a click, and one of the wood panels that lined the walls suddenly swung loose. The opening was about the size of a door, and the room beyond was completely dark. "Gods above..." she muttered. "I lived here for a year and I never knew about this."

"I can fetch you a candle if you'd like, but, if it suits you, my lady, I'd rather not go in there again. I took a peek after Lord Amplevine left, and... Well, perhaps you'd better see it for yourself."

"See," said Astrið to the captain. "Honey and vinegar, and all that." She snapped her fingers, and a mote of bluish light, the same color as her eyes, appeared in the air next to her. It was not a flame, nor was it an orb, or even any shape, really. It was just light, springing from no source at all. She waved her hand and it floated over into the room, illuminating it. "There are only three people in the University who can do that without it also producing heat or fire, and I was the first one to figure out how," she said proudly. "Now, you just wait here a moment. I believe you were promised a reward for this valuable information." She patted Bjarna's shoulder.

"I told you, that's not necessary," he muttered.

"No, but you still want to, right?"

He turned a brilliant red.

"We'll be right back," she said with a coquettish smile.

The three of them entered the secret room. It was small and square, perhaps ten feet to a side, and against the wall, on a shelf, was the diary. But that wasn't what Synnøva was looking at. "Gods and demons," muttered Eadwig. Astrið just let out a low whistle.

There was a portrait. It was masterfully painted, almost lifelike in its detail, and it depicted Synnøva. She was lying in repose on a sofa, dressed in nothing but a gauzy gown that she was certain that she had never actually worn. But her breasts. In the painting, they were much bigger than they were in reality. Bigger than Astrið's. They were so big that they didn't even fit on the sofa that she was laying on.

Next to it there was another painting. She was naked in this one, standing in a meadow that she had certainly never seen before. Her backside was rendered in alarming detail in this one, down to a mole placed accurately just above her left cheek. Her breasts were even bigger in this one, so ridiculously huge that their curves were visible even from behind, and they hung down to the level of her waist. The third painting was much the same, as was the fourth...

There were six in total, and in each one Synnøva's chest completely eclipsed her reality, enormous though she was. "I think," said Astrið, "that he might be a tad obsessed."

Synnøva was looking at the shelf now. There were other things on it, aside from the diary. An empty jewelrybox, clearly meant to hold a necklace. Tucked into it was a note that said 'Guaranteed effective enchantment! Your chest will double in size or your money back!" Early on in their engagement, Halvar had bought her a necklace. It was ugly and gaudy, but he'd insisted that she wear it for months. There was a glass jar with some pinkish residue on the inside, and on the outside were painted the letters 'Madame Elizabeth's Breast Enhancement Tincture'. He had told her that it was a lotion meant to make her smell good. It had smelled good, so she'd used it all. On this shelf was some sort of reminder of nearly every single gift that Halvar had given to her over the entire length of their engagement, along with containers, wrappers, and instructions which he had never allowed her to see.

"If it makes you feel any better," said Astrið, "I doubt that any of this stuff actually worked. The figurine was probably the first thing that he found that would have actually done anything."

It didn't make her feel better. She kneeled down and looked at the bottom shelf. There were some piles of neatly folded cloth there, and as she rummaged through them she started to recognize them. They were her underclothes. A few of the wraps that she used to support her breasts, and some of her loincloths.

There were stains on them. Ones that she had definitely not made herself. Astrið winced, and she heard Eadwig suck in a breath through his teeth.

Synnøva took a deep breath. She grabbed the diary. She walked out of the room. "You can make fire, can't you?"

"Yes," said Astrið.

"Burn it," she said, her voice calm and even. "Burn everything."

"But, my lady, all of this is valuable evidence," said Eadwig, but even his protests were weak, like his heart wasn't in them.

"He assaulted Astrið and I, and nearly murdered one of my doormen. This is irrelevant. That entire room is made of stone. It won't burn the house down. Make it a furnace."

Astrið looked at her. She looked at the room. She took a deep breath, then snapped her fingers. There was a fwoosh, and a blindingly bright light, and a rush of terrible heat. And then it was done, and there was nothing left in the room but ash and a few small puddles of melted metal.

Synnøva looked into the room, satisfaction evident on her face, but Eadwig was wide-eyed. "Master Astrið," he said. "Forgive me for my hesitation earlier in allowing you to accompany us while we apprehend Lord Amplevine. I see now he truly could be of no threat to you."

"You are forgiven," said Astrið cheerily. "Honestly, if he had not taken me by surprise back in Lady Silvercreek's parlor I could have apprehended him myself, but I was concerned for my lady's safety, and the spell that he cast upon me. Which, by the way, the only thing that it has done so far is make my breasts tingle and feel strange, but that could just as well be the magic from the figurine."

"Ah, er. I see." Eadwig coughed politely.

"Speaking of..." She approached Bjarna, who looked up at her nervously. She was a full head taller than him. "I'll give you one minute."

"Master Astrið, do we really have time for this?" said Synnøva. "We need you to read through this diary for us. Just let him grab a handful and be done with it."

"Picking through the diary could take a while, and single minute won't make much of a difference. Your time starts now, Bjarna! Make the best of it!" It was clear that Bjarna was hesitant to lay hands on a Master of the University in this way, even when she was so clearly inviting him to do it, so Astrið grabbed his hands and put them on her chest for him. "See? Easy! They're nice and soft and warm, huh?"

Bjarna opened his mouth, but all that came out was a noise that was somewhere halfway between a sigh and a squeak. "Fifty seconds, Bjarna! Rub them a bit, if you want." He did, and when his fingers made contact with the smooth, soft skin of her cleavage both he and Astrið shivered. "Ooh... Your hands feel nice. You can squeeze them a little, too. Yes, like that."

"Master Astrið, this really is not very appropriate..." said Eadwig weakly, but it was clear at this point that she was going to allow Bjarna all of the time that she had promised him. Synnøva just rolled her eyes and started to look through the diary. She couldn't understand the words, but she had read a book once on the Shalian writing system and she could sound out most of the letters.

"Ah, the tingling... It's becoming more intense. No, no need to stop! It feels good, honestly..."

She could make out her own name a few times. Eo talimi Synneovazh aum... Synneova vlaman en pazhëfs. Without knowing what the words around it meant that wasn't much use to her, though.

"You know what? Twenty seconds! Let's finish this off with something fun..." Astrið grabbed Bjarna's head and shoved his face into her cleavage. There was more than enough space there to accommodate it. He gave a muffled cry of surprise, but when she let go of him he stayed there.

"Oh, hello. Look at this." Synnøva held the book up to Eadwig, who was watching Astrið and Bjarna with tight lips and a furrowed brow. "He drew some charts here. This looks like a map."

"Time's up!" Astrið gently pushed Bjarna away from her by the shoulders. His hair was ruffled, and he looked dazed. Astrið, too, was a little bit red-faced, though she had mostly maintained her composure. "There now, wasn't that fun?" She patted Bjarna's shoulder. "Now, let's take a look at that diary."

"Ah... Astrið?" Synnøva pointed at the dress that she was wearing. Astrið looked down at herself. There were two very large wet spots right over her nipples. Her eyes widened in surprise, and without the slightest bit of hesitation she pulled it down, freeing her breasts.