Baleful eyes gazed imperiously down at a shining steel abomination. The artful arch of a blond eyebrow signaled the beginning of the end. "Are you seriously suggesting that I wear something like that? It's little more than a bra and panties. What possible use could it have in a fight except to add extra weight? I'd be better off fighting in my apron, or nothing at all."

Blackthorne looked to Jackie then back down to the skimpy battle bikini. Confused for a moment, he could not help but wonder at her dismissal of his offering. She regularly wore nothing but an apron, after all.

It was not long before he realized that she must not have checked its status. He made a slight noise signaling his curiosity then looked her in the eyes. "Are you sure you don't want this?"

She shrugged at him. "If it's something to play with in the bedroom, certainly. Otherwise it would be a painful reminder of the past."

"How so? The painful reminder part, not the bedroom thing," said Blackthorne. No sooner had he mentioned bedroom things than did the voices in his head begin to taunt him. They seemed almost half-hearted about it, however.

Jackie shook the chainmail offering a little. "My people often wear impractical armor that is as much for fashion as it is for defense. The problem is that our artisans have the power to craft things that mere humans cannot."

"What's the difference between your stuff and mine?" asked Blackthorne while he forced himself to ignore the mere human crack.

"Something like this is next to useless since metal chainmail chafes unless you wear it as an accessory, or actually put padding under it for normal use," she said. "Even with my attributes, I'd have to wear it as an accessory to prevent my body from turning into a mass of blisters. Honestly, no armor at all would be better."

"Yeah. But like you said, equipped accessories don't chafe much if at all and they always fit perfectly," countered Scott. He pointed to the armor and continued, "You telling me that you really don't want to wear a sexy lightweight piece of armor that scales with your charisma modifier and protects better than iron plate mai—" began to say, only to have the bikini ripped from his hands by the strong grip of the blond bombshell.

Jackie eyed the item speculatively for a moment then all sense of derision fell from her face as her eyes widened in wonder. "Impossible..." she said, a hint of awe in her tone. She looked up at him slowly, the light shining in her eyes as though she had witnessed a miracle.

"You made this? A human? Impossible..." she repeated mechanically.

Blackthorne arched his eyebrow at her then asked, "Why is that so surprising?"

"Humans can't do this. They, well they just can't!" she exclaimed heatedly. Jackie shook the chainmail at him. "They can enchant things, or create pieces that are somewhat magical in nature, but they certainly can't create items that absolutely scale in power with the owner's attributes unless there's a serious restriction!"

"Why?" he asked slowly, as though she were a deranged child. "I mean, I literally did that a short while ago."

"Racial limitations on skills!" she said excitedly. "Humans can use magic, but stuff like this can't be made by people who only use magic! You have to have blood ties to a celestial or infernal race to make unrestricted scaling items! Elves, Valkyries, Dwarves... not humans."

"I don't know what to tell you... I mean, this wasn't even hard for me," he said, surprise evident in his tone. "Admittedly, I doubt I could do it regularly until my skill levels increase but nothing particularly odd occurred to make this possible."

Jackie shook her head back and forth slowly. "A human made this? I know you're a bit odd, but the idea that you can do even this..."

"Are you certain that you're human?" she asked him quickly, her eyes gentle and her tone almost pleading.

"Well, I'm a dreamer... but otherwise human I guess?" asked Blackthorne as though he was uncertain of that fact himself after her constant yammering on regarding the matter.

The sense of wonder returned to her expression. "Are you really?" she breathed out softly.

She bit her lower lip and became introspective. "I mean, humans can make items that scale with attributes but there is always a severe restriction."

"Well, only women can wear it... doesn't that count?" asked Blackthorne.

"What? No. That's normal," she said.

"Restrictions are something like... Like..." She threw up one hand then said the first thing that came to mind. "One point of defense for every stat modifier, up to two points."

"Outside of that, something like a ten point life force reduction for every point of defense gained isn't unheard of when a human master armorer makes something than can scale absolutely," she said.

"It's always something severe that makes the item a serious concern for the wearer, or at best heavily limits its bonus utility," she continued.

She shook the armor in her hand once more. "There's no restriction here, other than the fact that only women can wear it... but that sort of thing is normal for armor that derives its true power from charisma."

"I don't know what to tell you... I made that from some trash I found in the graveyard," said Blackthorne. "I don't know if I can do it again, but I did make it."

A goofy smile was soon joined by a tiny hint of drool formed at the corner of her soft pink lips. A few seconds later she rapidly shook her head back and forth to clear away the loot-born madness that had briefly overtaken her. "I can't take this! Do you have any idea how much you could earn with something like this?"

Blackthorne shrugged at her. "No. Not really. I assumed it would be valuable compared to most of what I make, but I get the impression that I won't be able to regularly make something that good until my skills are much more developed."

"You can't do it again?" she asked him curiously. "I know you've mentioned that a few times already, but are you certain of that?"

"I could probably make the design again, but I get the impression that the ability to scale defense with charisma was a happy accident. A bit like rolling dice and getting a perfect roll for whatever game I'm playing," he said.

Jackie looked to him then down to the skimpy bit of armor. The craftsmanship was nothing to write home about, perhaps average for mail armor. However, the bonus defense alone made it a worthwhile item for someone who preferred lighter armor. The charisma based defensive bonus would make it absurdly attractive as an item for female entertainers or magic users. "A roll of the dice, huh... Mere chance brought this into existence?"

"This... you really want me to have this?" she asked him in a strangely gentle tone. "You do know you could probably get at least ten, maybe twelve thousand Jerin for it with little effort? Possibly more since we are a good distance form a major city."

Blackthorne made a choked a little, his eyes widening. "Are you serious? I figured a few thousand..."

"Without the charisma defense bonus, it would be worth maybe two or three thousand. This thing, for someone like me? It'd be like I was wearing a suit of steel plate," said Jackie.

"Really... I know you're stunning and all, but your charisma is that high?" asked Blackthorne incredulously.

She acquired a slightly sorrowful expression then looked to the side. A self-deprecating sigh escaped her lips. "Only twenty-four... and at my age..."

Blackthorne's left eyelid twitched a little. The twitch traveled across his face down to his cheek then over to his nose. Soon it left his nose, twitched his cheek then traveled up to the opposite eye lid. She only had twenty-four charisma? What in the happy hell were the Valkyries feeding these gals to make them so vivacious and charming? He'd have to completely abandon his other stats and spend the next eighteen levels on charisma to match her supposedly low-end showing.

He refused to ask about her other stats solely out of a desire to be a gentleman. It's not like he was afraid she would tell him. Nor did he feel it would destroy his masculine pride to learn such things. Clearly not.

Jackie looked to the chainmail bikini and sighed. "I'm still not sure I should take it... for other reasons."

"What reasons?" asked Blackthorne.

His eyebrows rose skyward as Jackie did something largely unprecedented. Her face turned bright red and she looked away. Chainmail clutched tight to her mighty bosom she took on the appearance akin to what she truly was, a young lady on the edge of her teen years. "I... well...."

Blackthorne tilted his to the side. Was this reality? Jackie, the perennially confident girl was blushing and at a loss for words. "If it's embarrassing or something..."

"Well, no," she said, her face still red. "It's just that my people believe in bridal training so we can properly develop the skills to please our husbands... Valkyries of great status and power who find their husbands lacking will sometimes give a man they fancy a better chance to earn the Glory of Spring..."

"Glory of Spring?" he asked her curiously.

"Yes. Generally, we don't view sex and sexuality in the same manner that you pathetic wor— humans do," said Jackie. "Normally, a situation like mine aside, we would never dream of sleeping with any man but our one true husband. It is offensive to us and damages the spiritual bond we form with our husband."

She took a breath then continued, "However, if our husband is found to be lacking despite the fact that he defeated us, we will grow tired of his uselessness as a mate. We will announce it in public during the start of the spring festival, a week before the tournament."

"What if you find your husband to be useless, but you aren't in your village?" he asked curiously.

Jackie grinned. "Announce it in public wherever you happen to be, and declare yourself willing to accept a new lover, provide that he can defeat your husband. It's not as sacred a thing, as the true rite of Spring Renewal, but it works the same."

"Interesting. Seems any husband worth having would have to constantly prove it..." he said.

"Yes, otherwise we take steps to ensure that he either straightens up or is replaced," she said.

"Let me guess. If your man isn't cutting it, you find a new guy and help him become strong enough to beat the shit out of your old one?" asked Blackthorne.

A sly grin slipped across Jackie's lips. "Yes, precisely."

"A man needs to stay on his toes if he has a Valkyrie wife, huh?" he asked.

"That's the way it is supposed to work, yes," she said with a frown. "Any suitor who wishes can take on the trial. Basically, there will be a small battle among her suitors and the winner will face her husband. The winner will then be her husband, by right of conquest."

"What if her husband refuses to fight?" he asked.

"Ah. That is the true Glory of Spring!" exclaimed Jackie in amusement. "On the day of the spring solstice, when our desire to mate is at its peak, that desire can override the will of both our husband and our innate desire to serve him. If our husband refuses to fight, a maiden of my people can take a spring bride, even a man, and mate with the chosen one openly in public to no ill effect."

Blackthorne groaned a little then laughed in spite of himself. "You cuck the guy out in front of the whole village? That's what you are saying?"

"Is spring not glorious?" she asked him lightly. She sobered slightly, not long after. "There is a price though, our libido overrides our innate desire to please our husband but the bond punishes us with crippling weakness."

"What sort of weakness?" he asked. It sounded like a serious trade-off for the right to publicly spit in a man's face.

"Loss of experience, skill levels, attributes, or even severe internal injuries and permanent reduction of life force," she said. As the words left her perfect lips they grew quieter with each spoken syllable. Some of the heat and color in her face faded.

Blackthorne eyed her for a moment then came to a conclusion that he had to verify. "That happened to you, didn't it?"

Jackie shrugged. "To an extent, yes. I was sold to pay my husband's debt, and he even told me to sell my 'fat ass' to pay it off faster so he could reclaim his property.'"

He started to ask about the latter, but remembered one of their previous talks. "That last bit was because he knew you would find some warrior or other to buy you and eventually challenge him, right?"

"Right," she said through clenched teeth. "Though, knowing him he would force me to screen his challenger first."

"Screen the challenger? Wouldn't you be the one bringing him, or well probably me?" he asked.

"Yes..." she said, a slight hint of drool forming at the edge of her lip as she realized what he had said, "I would."

Jackie quickly wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand then continued, "But, the thing is that my people don't want to change husbands at the drop of a hat. What if we love our husband, but he has been injured? What if he's sick?"

She looked him in the eyes then nodded slowly. "We always reserve the right to face any would-be challengers first in order to prove they are at least strong enough to defeat us. We don't have to fight, however. Not unless our husband demands it as proof of the challenger's validity."

"So, I'd have to fight you..." said Blackthorne.

"That's usually how the less reputable husbands survive the Glory of Spring. Suitors have to beat each other, beat the Valkyrie seeking a new husband, and then beat her current husband all without taking a rest." Jackie shook her head then sighed. "It can be quite problematic."

"So, he can order you to fight me and you'd have to do it?" asked Blackthorne.

"Only if I'm there to be ordered to do such. If I don't hear it, it doesn't count," she said softly.

"I see..." he said, "As a slave though, wouldn't you have to also obey my order not to fight?"

"Yes," said Jackie. "The bond, or the slave seal, one or the other would probably kill me in that case."

They spent a silent moment together as the implications filtered through his mind. Buying her, in his mind, had become a responsibility to also set her free eventually. He could not do that without defeating her current husband or he would just reclaim her.

The idea that he would have to kick Jackie's beautiful ass for the right to kill the bastard who forced her to marry him in the first place was unsettling, even if he vaguely recalled that she had actually mentioned it before. She had been hurt enough.

"If it causes problems to have sex with other men, even during the spring solstice then..." said Blackthorne slowly, as an effort to change the subject back to a less depressing thought.

She nodded then looked him in the eyes, her fierce determination evident in her piercing gaze. "He told me to do it, so the damage is greatly reduced. Each time I have sex with a man who is not my husband, however, I am harmed by the bond."

Blackthorne refused to look away from those intensely blazing orbs. "Will you be able to recover once you are free from this place?"

"Provided my master does not claim the right to violate my womb with his lustful male desires, yes," she said in a serious tone. "Though, the lost skills and experience have to be regained the normal way."

Her tone and the harshness of her gaze both softened when she spoke again, "Just to be clear, even if it hurts a little it would be improper to say no to you... as my master."

He looked into her eyes for a moment then offered an attempt at a friendly smile. "Do hugs hurt?"

Her nostrils flared a little and she looked slightly to the side. "I don't know... I've never thought about it since hugs were rarely on the menu."

Blackthorne gently opened his arms and gestured her inward with his hands. Her cheeks reddened once more as she stepped forward into a warm hug. He pressed his cheek to the side of her face and held her for a moment before he asked, "Does this hurt."

She nuzzled the side of his face then softly said, "Yes... but for different reasons."

They remained locked in a sweet embrace for a time, but soon the moment passed and they separated once more. Blackthorne asked, "So, why is giving you that armor a problem again? You never really explained that..."

Jackie laughed a little. "Well, it's customary for a suitor who wishes to prove himself more capable than a Valkyrie's current husband to offer a gift of armor that scales with charisma. It shows that he can provide for their family, respects her as a warrior, and finds her attractive enough to benefit from such a gift."

"Basically, it's a letter of intent that states that he wishes to formally cuckold her husband and take her for his own while the corpse is still warm?" asked Blackthorne.

Her face became flush again, but noticeably two tiny tents formed in her apron signaling a certain amount of arousal. "Yes, he intends to dominate her husband in honorable combat and prove himself the superior man to be her husband... It also shows that he wishes to protect her."

"I thought you ladies wouldn't like it if a man tried to protect you?" asked Blackthorne.

She cleared her throat then laughed a little. "We don't like condescending males, especially pathetic human men, who try to claim that they are stronger due to the genitalia dangling uselessly between their legs..."

"Our husbands wanting to protect us and provide for our family though... Well... Mhmm," she bit her lower lip and swiveled her hips lightly.

Blackthorne offered her a shrewd smile and she laughed once more. A moment later she began to fan her face. "Goodness, it's always so hot in this kitchen..."

"Note to self," said Blackthorne loudly. "Jackie gets off on the idea of having a strong warrior dude in her life who wants to beat the shit out of her husband, protect her, and give her shiny things because she's beautiful and talented warrior."

She slapped him on the arm lightly then turned away from him. Her cheeks puffed up in a surprisingly cute manner. "You don't have to tease me about it. That's every little Valkyrie's dream!"

Blackthorne laughed at her antics then lightly scratched his chin. It took him a moment, but he realized something else that she'd said that he suddenly wanted to know more about.

"Why do I get the impression that spring training has a double meaning?" asked Blackthorne.

Her cheeks grew flush once more then she released an almost obnoxious laugh. "Ah, it's bridal training season, basically..."

"Wait, so every spring the girls in your village get together and train to be brides?" asked Blackthorne.

"It builds friendships among the girls who have come of age, and helps us develop our sexual skills at the same time," admitted Jackie. "There is a yearly tournament. The top warriors were declared to be husbands, and the lesser warriors became their spring brides. This was also the time when the occasional man would usually came to test his might and attempt to win brides in the proper way, or at least act as a spring bride himself provided they could complete their trial successfully."

"I never got the chance to participate, but my mother was quite skilled at teaching the new warriors the ways of pleasing a husband," said Jackie wistfully.

Blackthorne blinked slowly. A variety of images assaulted his fragile little mind, not the least of which was a slightly older version of Jackie acting as MILF Master General to a small horde of eager young Valkyries. Even the cavalcade of voices decrying his perversity, and demanding that he go die in a fire could not overcome the glory of innocent young warrior maidens training in the art of sexual domination and submission.

He chuckled lightly after a moment. "You know, the way you said it almost made it seem like men go there to claim multiple brides."

Jackie blinked at him. "Of course they do. It was practically a given that men would come from far and wide after honing their skills, all in the hope of acquiring the love of one or more of my sisters."

Blackthorne drew back from her a little then tilted his head sideways. "You're saying your people are fine with polygamy?"

She shrugged. "If a man is strong enough to face and defeat several of us at the same time, he clearly has the power to lead his household and fight off all other men who would challenge him for our love."

Jackie smiled at him a hint of tears in her eyes. "We are a close people and we love our sisters dearly. We often cry when one of our sisters finds a husband, both in joy for her, and in sadness that she will probably leave us."

"At the same time? If he could do that, wouldn't he just try to marry one of the stronger girls?" asked Blackthorne.

"The gap in ability between young warrior maidens and the unmarried elite is quite extensive. It is quite common for a man who is actually strong enough to win even two or three young brides at once, to fail completely and die at the hands of an unmarried elite," she said.

"Victory or death, huh?" asked Blackthorne. "Admittedly, if you're anything to go on I can see it being worth the risk..."

She gave him a look. One part incredulity, two parts embarrassment, and another part confusion. After a moment spent looking at him with that odd expression, she regained her sense of pride and offered him a gentle confident smile. "Love is a battlefield where the strong rule the hearts of the weak, you know."

Blackthorne returned her smile then asked. "So, anyway... Does that mean you don't want to keep the armor? I could sell it..."

She stepped back from him and clutched it tightly to her chest, her eyes wide. "It's fine. You could not possibly have known the significance of such a gift. Even if it seems you'll never let me repay you for granting it to me..."

"Pay me back by helping me get strong enough to take down that husband of yours," he said lightly.

Her face reddened to the point that Blackthorne feared for her life. In a low, husky, tone she whispered, "I said not to tease me..."

"I'm not much to look at now, but I am not trying to tease you," he said in a serious tone.

Jackie smiled at him a little then nodded. "I... don't know why, but I believe you—" she began to say, only to stop part way and then cross her arms over her chest and lift her chin imperiously. "Not that a pathetic man like you has the strength to pull it off."

He saw through her words with little effort. She'd shown a vulnerable side today, and wanted to reassert her confident demeanor.

"I better train hard," he said lightly.

She snorted at him. "Obviously..."

A quiet moment passed between them before she turned away from him and back to her vegetable cutting board. She sat her chainmail down nearby then said, "I should get back to work."

"Me too... I have some armor to sell," he said.

She snatched the chainmail up and clutched it to her chest. "Do you?"

"Not that one, you goof," said Blackthorne with a laugh.

A soft chuckle echoed from her lips followed by a sigh. "I see."

Blackthorne smiled at her back, and tried to ignore the voices in his head when he lowered his gaze to the bountiful wonderland of her rear. As much as he despised the mere thought of the man who'd enslaved her as a forced wife, he had to begrudgingly admit that he was not wrong about one thing. Jackie did have a fat ass.

"Lecherous shit weasel!" snarled a voice in his head.

"Hateful perverted donkey fucker," said another voice in a cheerful manner.

He rolled his eyes at their antics. 'Weak. You're really dropping the ball on these insults of late,' he whispered inside his mind.

"Hey, don't be rude. We try really hard and don't get paid overtime!" cried the first voice.

"Yeah, I got six kids to feed!" whined the second voice. "I need this gig, but don't need that sass!"

He blinked then slowly shook his head to clear it of the stupidity. His voices became weirder by the day.

Blackthorne said, "See you later, Jackie."

As he started to turn away, she stopped cutting vegetables for a moment and grew perfectly still. Her sudden change of demeanor caught his attention. Before he could ask her about it, however, she softly whispered a single word. "Sonja..."

"What was that?" he asked her gently.

She took a deep breath then gripped the edge of the counter tight enough to turn her knuckles white. "My name is... Sonja."

"It's... a beautiful name," he said softly.

"My mother gave it to me..." she said.

"Why tell me?" he asked her in a quiet tone.

She sighed loudly then shrugged. "Jackie is my slave name... You made a claim that you would do more than be my master, so..."

"Scott," he said in a clear and soft tone.

"Hmm?" she asked without turning to look at him.

"My entire life up until recently that has been my name, but it is a life that has left me with nothing but pain," he said in a slow careful tone. "I chose a different one when I came here... But maybe if you say it, it won't be so bad."

"Is that so..." she said, "I will remember that... Scott."

"See you later, Sonja..." he whispered.

Neither spoke for a moment as a long awkward moment, ensued. As the time passed, the awkwardness increased.

"Good night," he said softly. The awkwardness had built to a point too great to ignore. For the sake of his own sanity, he needed to flee.

She nodded silently, and said nothing. Blackthorne left the kitchen and headed off toward the weapon shop. If he worked quickly, he might be able to sell his padded leather vest before the armorer closed.

Back in the kitchen Jackie, now revealed as Sonja, broke her silence. She slammed her fist down on the table hard enough to crack the surface of the wood and closed her eyes tight. Tears poured freely despite the attempt to hold them back. "Why? Why did you do tell him your real name, Sonja?"

She picked up her knife and stabbed the counter. Over and over again, she rained down blows atop the helpless counter-top as the tears fell hotly down her cheeks. "Human! A miserable, rotting, puss-filled human! Why! Why dammit!"

"Because you loooove him," called a voice lewdly from beyond the doorway.

"Dammit Alf-redo! Master or not, I will cut you!" she snarled.

Alfredo, better known as Mr. Scraggles, laughed cheerfully from just out of sight. His cheerful laughter only served to irritate her more.

"Men!" she cried in outrage. She began to brutally chop vegetables with callous disregard for their irregular shape. "If only they were all turnips! They would know my wrath, and I'd be free!"

"The truth that you loooove him?" called Alfredo in his cheerfully lewd tone.

Sonja screamed at the top of her lungs, but said nothing else of note. She merely grabbed another sacrifice to her rage, a popular fruit known as the blood fruit. Succulent and juicy, it garnered its name from the bright red juice that poured out when it was cut.

She quickly returned to her furious chopping. A manic expression arose on her face alongside a smile fit for a psycho killer. She laughed maniacally as bright red blood fruit juice, and stray bits of the devastated fruit itself, flew through the air splattering her face and chest.