This is the SFW version of the novel without the smol/l*li stuff (it will nuke this novel). For the NSFW version, please visit my Patreon page: https://www.patreon.com/c/SmallScribble.
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Those piercing blue eyes seemed to lock directly onto Rosalinda's hiding spot. A knowing smile curved Lyssandra's full lips.
Then, she winked.
'Oh no!' Rosalinda thought, her heart hammering so hard she felt it might burst from her chest. 'She saw me!'
A wave of icy terror washed over her, followed swiftly by a scalding wave of humiliation. She scrambled backwards on the floor, frantically yanking up her loincloth with shaking hands, the fabric sticking uncomfortably to the slick wetness between her thighs.
She managed to get to her feet, stumbling slightly, her legs feeling weak and unsteady. Her hands flew to her disheveled hair, smoothing it with trembling fingers. She wiped at her flushed cheeks, hoping desperately to remove any trace of her transgression.
'Quick!' her mind screamed. 'The chair! Pretend to be sitting there! Pretend everything is normal!'
Rosalinda practically dove for the single wooden chair positioned in the center of the room, landing in it with a soft thump. She arranged her posture rigidly upright, folding her hands primly in her lap, her eyes fixed determinedly on the empty table before her.
The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Then, just as Rosalinda thought her heart might beat its way out of her chest, she heard the heavy, measured tread of footsteps approaching the door.
KREEK. THUD.
The door creaked open, then slammed shut with a jarring finality that made Rosalinda flinch violently, her shoulders hunching involuntarily.
Lyssandra stood in the doorway, her presence filling the space, her sheer physicality radiating an almost tangible aura of dominance and danger.
Rosalinda kept her gaze glued to the rough-hewn wood of the tabletop, her knuckles white as she clenched her hands tightly in her lap. She could feel Lyssandra's gaze on her like a physical weight, that knowing smile still playing on the woman's lips.
The silence in the small room became unbearable, punctuated only by the frantic drumming of Rosalinda's own pulse in her ears. She knew Lyssandra knew. She knew that that woman knew that she had seen everything.
"Little princess," Lyssandra said, the words dripping with condescension. "My apologies for the delay." She pulled out the chair opposite Rosalinda with a casual scrape and sat down, the wood groaning softly under her weight.
Rosalinda flinched at the sound, her eyes still glued to the tabletop. "N-no p-problem at all!" she stammered, her voice high-pitched and thin. Her face burned with a shameful, all-consuming blush that spread down her neck.
Lyssandra leaned back. She steepled her fingers beneath her chin, a picture of relaxed menace.
"Well then, Your Highness," she drawled, the honorific sounding like a mockery. "Let's not waste any more of your precious time. Tell me. What do you want?"
Rosalinda's blush deepened, the flush staining her cheeks an angry crimson. She opened her mouth, a shaky breath escaping, but no sound followed.
She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry as dust. "I… well, you see… actually, I wa—"
"You know what?" Lyssandra cut her off abruptly, holding up a hand. She leaned forward slightly, her blue eyes glinting with amusement. "In hindsight? I think I'll pass on hearing your request right now." She gave an exaggerated sigh, slumping back in her chair.
"What?" Rosalinda gasped, panic flaring in her eyes as she finally dared a glance at the woman across from her. "But… but you just asked!"
"Oh, I did, didn't I?" Lyssandra chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent an involuntary shiver down Rosalinda's spine.
"My mistake." She tapped a finger against her lips thoughtfully. "It's just… you see, little princess, I'm not one of your royal vassals." She drew out the word "Highness" with heavy, mocking emphasis. "I don't jump at your command. And more importantly… I don't do charity."
Rosalinda's flush deepened, now born of outrage mingled with her humiliation. "Excuse me? What are you—?"
"This needs to be a fair exchange," Lyssandra continued smoothly, talking over her. "An equal exchange. Quid pro quo."
She smiled. "So before you tell me what you want, we need to discuss… what you're offering in return."
The implication hung heavy in the air. Rosalinda's eyes widened with sudden horror. She shot to her feet, her chair clattering loudly backwards onto the stone floor.
"H-hah?!?" she choked out, stumbling back a step, her arms flying up to cross protectively over her petite chest.
"Y-you… you want my body?" Her voice shook with terror and indignation.
Lyssandra threw her head back and laughed, a genuine sound of amusement. "Pfft! Oh, princess." She shook her head, still chuckling. "Who said anything about wanting your body? Don't flatter yourself!" Her grin turned sharp and knowing. "That's quite the imagination you have."
Rosalinda's flush returned full force, the humiliation burning like a brand. She stood there for a moment, trembling slightly, then awkwardly bent down and righted her fallen chair.
She sat back down with a soft thump, her posture rigid, her hands clenched into fists in her lap. "Then… th-then what?" she demanded, her voice small but fierce, her eyes finally meeting Lyssandra's, shining with unshed, angry tears. "What is it that you want from me?"
"Information," Lyssandra decided, tapping her fingers on the worn tabletop. "That seems like a fair starting point." She leaned forward slightly. "Tell me about this place."
Rosalinda blinked, taken aback. "What do you mean? Isn't this your dungeon?" Her confusion was genuine, her eyebrows scrunching together. "Don't you know where you are?"
Lyssandra sighed, a sound that held a hint of irritation. "I know where I am, princess," she said, her voice tight. "This specific dungeon, yes. But the wider world? The geography?" She gestured vaguely around her. "Enlighten me."
Rosalinda's mouth dropped open. "You… you don't know? That's basic knowledge! Even a child knows the major geographical features!"
"Enough," Lyssandra snapped, her voice suddenly cold and sharp. Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "I don't have time for your indignation. Just. Talk." The command filled with unspoken threat.
Rosalinda flinched back, her outrage instantly smothered by a wave of fear. She swallowed hard, her eyes wide. "Y-yes," she stammered. "Of course. Let me… let me think."
She took a deep, shuddering breath, visibly composing herself. "Okay. So… we're on the continent of Varkath."
Her voice was quieter, more controlled now. "The southernmost continent. It's large, mostly tropical or arid regions. This dungeon…" she paused, gesturing around them, "is in the heart of the Withering Jungle. The jungle covers the entire central part of the continent."
Lyssandra hummed thoughtfully, nodding slightly. "Go on."
"To the north," Rosalinda continued, her confidence growing as she spoke of something she knew well, "we have the Kingdom of Khashahria. It's a vast kingdom ruled by the High Elves. Very powerful, very isolationist."
"Wait," Lyssandra interrupted, holding up a hand. She leaned over the table, placing her palm flat against the rough wood.
The surface rippled like liquid for a moment before settling into a shallow box filled with fine, pale sand. "Visual aids help," she stated matter-of-factly. "Use this. Draw me a map."
Rosalinda stared at the transformed tabletop, her mouth slightly agape. "Wh-what? How did you—"
"Draw," Lyssandra commanded, cutting her off. She pushed a small stick of wood across the table towards the princess. "The layout."
Swallowing her shock, Rosalinda picked up the stick. With surprisingly deft movements, she began to sketch in the sand, her voice steady as she narrated.
"Okay. So… Varkath." She drew a large, irregular oval shape. "The Withering Jungle is roughly here." She marked a dense cluster of lines near the center. "And this dungeon." She placed a small pebble in the middle of the jungle.
"Now, the northern border…" She traced a line across the top of the continent. "Kingdom of Khashahria." She labeled it with quick, efficient strokes of the stick. "High Elves, very powerful, very reclusive."
"To the south of Khashahria and east of the jungle…" She marked another region, filling in mountains with her fingers. "Is Beboim. Orc territory. Lots of tribes, constantly warring with each other and Khashahria. Not really unified."
Rosalinda moved east. "Southeast of Khashahria, east of Beboim, we have the Grand Duchy of Akoia." She sketched a jagged coastline. "Dark Elves. They have a… strained relationship with Khashahria, obviously."
Her stick moved west, across the sandy map. "Far west, the westernmost coast… Republic of Imblosia." She etched deep valleys and mountains. "The Dwarves. They mine the mountains, mostly keep to themselves."
She traced the southern coast. "East of Imblosia, we have the Kingdom of Indyrge." She drew a crown symbol. "My kingdom, mostly humans. Currently at war with Khashahria."
Finally, she filled the eastern plains. "East of Indyrge, between them and Beboim, is Akadia." She drew sweeping grasslands. "Open plains, mostly inhabited by the centaur tribes."
Rosalinda leaned back, surveying her work. The crude map covered the sandbox, the major geographical features clearly marked. She looked up at Lyssandra, a faint hint of pride in her expression despite her earlier fear.
Lyssandra studied the map silently for a long moment, her eyes tracing the lines and symbols. Her expression was thoughtful, calculating. "Good," she murmured. "Very good. This… gives me context." She looked back up at Rosalinda.