The Tale of the Three Swords, Part IV
by T. Prince, tk_prince@hotmail.se


The three swords prepare for the final showdown.

It was late spring. Everywhere, petals were dropping from the cherry blossom
trees, giving rise to fragrant pink rains all over mainland China. Just as
light and darkness, when contrasted, brings out the other in perfect relief,
so the sight of the conquering Western army marching amidst all this natural
splendour seemed somehow to make the ongoing humiliation of the East all the
more unspeakably grim.

Villages had been ravaged. Towns had been burnt to the ground. And all the
while, the despairing citizens kept crying in vain for help from the emperor
and his army. Little did they know that communication across the land had been
rendered impossible through the employment of most wicked, forbidden magicks,
and that the imperial army had been dispatched weeks ago, but was being led
around in circles somewhere in the deserts of Inner Mongolia, continually led
astray by malicious trickster spirits.

Meanwhile, the sorceress Mariana LeFoy had created a temporary capital not far
from the old imperial capital Chang'an, in a small country town which now
served as a makeshift headquarters from which she could plot her final march
against the Dragon Throne. Immediately after annexing the town, she had
converted the local pagoda into a provisional palace. And from that day on,
the top floor of the venerable pagoda had been illuminated by the strangest,
most ghastly visual phenomena -- all of them no doubt stemming from the wicked
sorceress's profane experiments.

The bottom floor of the pagoda had been rather clumsily transformed into a
church, from which Lady Isabel conducted the spread of her religion. At first,
these operations proceeded haltingly, but after the high priestess began to
introduce punitive measures for any infidel who resisted conversion, the
obstinate locals finally began to relent.

Once word of Lady Isabel's success began to reach the ears of her order in the
West, they soon showed their approval by dispatching reinforcements. Within
short, a number of new, sinister faces had appeared on the scene:

Lady Luzia, a notoriously ruthless inquisitor, proceeded over the
"conversions" that regularly took place in the town. Like Isabel she was
black-haired and bronze-skinned, and her standard uniform was a rather
revealing nun's uniform consisting of a gold-embroidered black headpiece and a
matching thigh-length dress. In the canyon between her round, pushed-up
breasts hung the golden symbol of Isabel's goddess.

A more enigmatic presence was Celeste -- a willowy, blond teenage girl who was
being kept in an inner sanctum, from which she was said to speak directly to
the Goddess. Here she would dance for hours in her clothing of transparent
veils before loudly declaring the answer from the goddess through a hole in
the wall. Her origins, like everything about her, were shrouded in mystery.

Finally, there was a woman known only as the Pendragon. This powerfully-built,
chestnut-haired specimen was the head paladin of Isabel's order, and had been
tasked with quelling all resistance to the new religion by force. The
Pendragon always wore a gold-embroidered white skirt, a steel breastplate
adorned with a golden fire-breathing dragon, a plumed helmet, and a massive,
two-handed sword known as "The Goddess's Judgment".

And, as if the appearance of this strange religion wasn't bad enough,
Mariana's regime had increased taxes to such astoundingly high levels that
starvation among the local population had become rampant. This idea, it was
rumored, had been suggested by none other than that mysterious duchess who had
set up a new "national" bank somewhere in the very same pagoda.

Every day, the villagers gathered in secret to pray to their gods for someone,
anyone, to save them from the Western tyrants. The gods heard them, and smiled
knowingly to each other.

***

Captain Broussard and her team of elite archers were sneaking along the forest
path, treading so lightly that not even a mouse could have been disturbed. The
search operation that was supposed to have been completed in twenty-four hours
had now dragged on for several weeks, and judging from the frozen look of
stubborn determination on the commander's face, it could easily go on for many
weeks more. Suddenly, the stern French officer held out her hand, signaling
for the unit to stop. She carefully parted the thick branches in front of her
and snuck out, alone, into the adjacent clearing.

There, she was met by the unexpected sight of a curvaceous blond woman,
completely naked, hanging upside down from a tree by her tied-up ankles. As
the wind tied the bound and gagged woman around, captain Broussard first
became aware of the woman's identity -- Lady Sif of the Nordic shieldmaidens
-- and secondly the message that was scrawled in big black letters across her
chalk-white back and buttocks:

"GUESS WHO?"

The captain froze in her tracks, but did not budge. She was, after all, widely
known for her unwavering discipline. Suddenly, an arrow whistled past,
impaling her helmet and disappearing with it into the woods. Captain Broussard
touched her chestnut locks -- losing a helmet was not the end of the world,
after all. Another arrow whistled past, somehow managing to snag hold of her
tunic and pull that off as well. The captain looked down at her pale, freckled
breasts and cupped her hands around them. All right, she thought, this was
getting a bit embarrassing. A third arrow appeared, severing the buckle of her
belt and causing her riding pants to plummet to her ankles. She was now left
only in a pair of small yellow undershorts, that clung so tightly to her body
that they exposed every line of her nether regions -- back as well as front.

"That's it -- I'm not having any of this!" she cried out, and turned to make a
run for it.

When she reached the spot where she had left her unit, she found the ground
littered with bows and clothing. Fearing the worst, the captain followed the
trail of discarded equipment -- all the while covering up her unmentionables
with both hands -- and eventually found herself staring into the mouth of a
steep ravine, leading down to a filthy, stinking swamp lake. Further away, the
remains of her unit were standing at the edge of a small rocky outcrop,
shivering and wailing while trying their best not to fall down. Three wooden
spears, fashioned out of bamboo sticks, were pointed straight at the group,
and captain Broussard saw with terror that their wielders were none other than
the three Eastern swordwomen whose corpses she had been tasked with bringing
back!

The Asians inched forward with their spears, each step sending a couple of
archers falling off the cliff. Eventually, there was only one Westerner left
-- a pale, dark-haired beauty with amber-colored eyes -- who stood balancing
on the tip of her toes looking down into the sludge that enveloped her com-
rades. Wei-Ling delivered the coup de grace by pricking the buxom Westerner
squarely in her alabaster rump, penetrating her dainty little hole and sending
her shrieking down into the stinking mud-bath, hands clutching her violated
tush all the way down.

"Watch out for leeches!" Wei-Ling cried, her voice echoing down through the
ravine to the writhing mass of bodies in the greenish sludge.

"Look what we've got here," Nerg?i suddenly said, having materialized behind
the captain. "A tight-assed one, from the look of it."

"I have been tasked with bringing your dead bodies back to by mistress,"
captain Broussard said, doing her best to remain stoic. "And I intend to carry
out that assignment."

"Well, you have a new assignment now: Bring our *live* bodies back to your
mistress, so we can kick her butt," Shiori replied.

"Never! I will not betray my mistress, for she is the true Emperor of the
combined empires of East and West, and ruler of the Known World!"

"I was kind of hoping you would say that," Nerg?i said with a smile. She
promptly grabbed the waistband of the French officer's undergarments and gave
them a good tug, causing the already too-small panties to shoot straight up
into the brunette's bulging vagina, and saw away at her tight butt crack like
a string of dental floss.

"A?e!! Mes choses intimes!" the captain wailed, as the Mongolian lifted her
off her feet and began to swing her around by her panties, like a great human
flail.

"OOUUIIILLLEEEE!!! ARR?TEZ!! ARR?TEZ!!" the brunette screamed, but Nerg?i
continued to swing her around for a good minute before she was unceremoniously
dumped on the ground, red-faced, sobbing and in the process of extracting her
skimpy little panties from the deepest recesses of her swollen snatch and
quickly reddening ass.

"Swear that you will take us to your mistress!" Nerg?i bellowed. "Or else I
will take those big, fat puddings of yours and serve them up for dessert!"

The captain hesitated, but when Nerg?i rolled up her sleeves and began to
reach for her breasts, she finally cracked:

"AHHHH, ALL RIGHT, I SWEAR!! *sob* I WILL TAKE YOU TO HER!!"

The trio exchanged glances, and all three of them nodded in silent agreement.
There was no time to lose. The final blow to the Western army had to be dealt
now, or else it would all be too late.

However, just as the group shouldered their equipment and prepared to leave, a
great wind came roaring in from the East, rustling the leaves and caressing
the grass. Wei-Ling pricked up her ears -- there was unmistakably a message in
the wind, and it sounded as follows:

"WEI-LING... OF THE WIND-BEATEN WASTES... HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN... OUR COVENANT?"

Wei-Ling stopped. It was true -- one thing had slipped her mind, and it was
something that could not be put off any longer.

"You two go ahead," she said thoughtfully. "There is something I have to do."

"Great," Shiroi grunted. "We've all lost our weapons and armour, my sword-arm
still isn't fully recovered, and now you're leaving the group? I'm not sure we
can handicap our chances much further."

"I'll join up with you two as soon as I've found what I'm looking for," Wei-
Ling reassured her friends. "As for weapons, Nerg?i has her pick of bows from
those archer tarts we just took out."

"I, on the other hand, am not an archer, but a swordswoman," Shiroi replied.

"I'm getting to that. Remember your old friend Bramhilde?"

"I don't understand."

Wei-Ling drew the valkyrie sword and held it up, holding it carefully by the
blade and spinning the golden hilt, so that the sunlight glinted off every
curve of Bramhilde's immobile, metallic body. Shiori drew her finger along the
proud valkyrie's upturned breasts and curved back, blinking incredulously.

"That was... well, unexpected. In a good way, of course," Shiori chuckled.
"Look how baffled she looks, finding her big, fat butt split by a great hunk
of steel. That ought to temper her pride a bit after a millennium or two."

"And that's not all," Wei-Ling continued, holding up the valkyrie shield, with
its intricate frame of twisting, sensually pressed-together faces, braids,
tits, legs, waists and asses.

"Well, well, this is just getting better and better," Shiroi mumbled,
attaching the shield to her arm. "I'm happy that those big-assed bitches could
be put to some good use after all! But what does that leave you with?"

"Do not worry, my dear friend," Wei-Ling said as she turned to walk into the
back into the forest out of which they had come. "Soon enough, a familiar wind
will blow from the East. And this time, it will clear out the house of the
evil sorceress for good."

***

In the village hall, which had been refurnished into a lavish banquet room,
the wicked leaders of the West lay reclining on their divans, greedily
munching on grapes that slave handmaidens lowered into their mouths. Having
just shared a hot bath, they were all naked except for their towels.

"When the Dragon Throne is mine," the sorceress said, raising her goblet of
wine, "I shall level the second biggest city in the East and turn it into a
wine plantation, so that my successors shall never have to go without this
splendid Western beverage."

"It will be for nothing," the duchess Vittoria purred. "The Eastern climate is
sickly and wet -- as degenerate as its people. The wine would be undrinkable."

"My lady, if I may," said Ophelia, who was lying on her stomach and receiving
a thorough massage from two slave maidens, one of whom was applying a sweet-
smelling oil onto her pearly white skin and the other working the oil into the
knight's thick calves, plump thighs and curvaceous glutes (which were
appetizingly half-obscured by a tiny red towel), "now that the East is about
to be trampled into the dust for centuries to come, I hope you will honor your
promise to make me Empress of Japan and the Seas Beyond?"

"Fear not, my sweet champion. As soon as we have taken the Dragon Throne, this
promise shall be sealed in writing and signed with my own blood."

"Hark this, my sisters," said Isabel, the high priestess, who was lying on her
stomach and reading from a dusty, black tome decorated with the symbol of her
goddess. "Our victory in the East has been prophesized by the holy prophetess
Miranda, seven hundred years ago: 'And the armies of the holy griffin shall
march upon the infidel East, whose gates shall be trampled beneath their feet.
There the goddess shall smile upon her daughters, and finally, divine justice
shall be done.' "

" 'Divine justice', eh?" Mariana asked incredulously. "I am uncertain whether
to be afraid or relieved. We are, after all, the aggressors."

"My lady! I am shocked to hear you express such ungodly ambivalence! Do you
not know that whosoever spreads the faith of the Goddess, whether by book or
by sword, is always on the side of justice, even when she does wrong?"

"Sounds like my kind of philosophy!" the duchess chuckled, sipping a cup of
expensive Milanese wine. "We should talk more often, priestess."

"The holy Miranda also writes: 'And the Goddess shall descend with her army
and fight her eternal enemy from the netherworld, and the battleground shall
be the remnants of what was formerly known as the empire of the rising sun-"

"Hey, holy-buns," Ophelia grumbled, "that's a really boring book you've got
there. How about reading from "Tales and Exploits of Western Knights, Vol. XVI
instead? Specifically the last chapter, which is about someone you'll
recognize."

"Lady Ophelia is right. No more religion for tonight!" the sorceress declared.
With a wave of her hand, she caused the priestess' holy book to float up into
the air, close itself shut and deliver a single, well-aimed spank across the
priestess' towel-covered rear end before flying off out of reach.

"OUCHH!! Well, I *never*..." the priestess murmured in an injured tone,
massaging her stinging bottom.

"Friends," the sorceress said, raising her goblet, "let us take a moment to
drink to the resounding success of our Eastern expedition. As soon as the
signal arrives from our spies, we will march upon the Dragon Throne. Our
victory will be guaranteed, and will mark the first time in history that the
so-called "empire" of China is placed under Western rule. Hence, let us make a
toast to the coming MANY millennia of Western supremacy. To the glory of
Europe, now and forever!"

***

After days of walking, Wei-Ling came upon a clear blue lake in the midst of a
bamboo forest. The surface of the water was perfectly still -- almost
unnaturally so. Peering through the water, the swordswoman thought that she
could make out a faint greenish-blue light, pulsating regularly as if
beckoning to her in code.

Wei-Ling stripped off her clothes and equipment and stood naked on the shore
for a moment, imbibing the fresh forest air around her, before making her
graceful dive into the glittering lagoon.

Instantly after plunging below the surface, Wei-Ling saw her surroundings
transform before her very eyes. The mosaic-like glimmer of the sun overhead
vanished, and the grimy lake bottom was suddenly replaced with a glowing
sphere of aquamarine light, that seemed to possess its own form of gravity.
Wei-Ling flailed helplessly as the magical light pulled her down toward
itself. Soon, the blue light had grown in size until it permeated everything.
Wei-Ling mouthed a futile prayer to her only protector, the Dragon, just
before-

***

-she jolted awake in a strange, non-watery environment. With a hoarse gasp,
Wei-Ling drank in the sweet air around her. She found herself in a dim,
blue-lit cavern with stalactites hanging clustered from the ceiling like
eldritch chandeliers. The blue light seemed to be coming from a source of
glowing water nearby, which projected its soft, undulating wave patterns onto
every surface within sight.

"Welcome, Wei-Ling of the Wind-Beaten Wastes," a serene, ageless voice intoned
nearby.

Wei-Ling turned around and found herself face to face with an androgynous
youth dressed in a simple white robe. The youth had long, greenish-blue hair
that extended down to his or her waist, and eyes as dark and impenetrable as
black pearls.

"Are you the... being that brought me to this place?" Wei-Ling asked.

"Yes. I am Mazi, the spirit of hidden lakes and rivers. My name is unknown to
most mortals, yet I have existed very nearly since the beginning of time."

"And what is... this place?"

"It is part of my realm, which lies beyond your world. But fear not -- you
shall be returned to your home shortly, so that you can complete the quest
that the gods have bestowed upon you."

"I thank you, noble spirit," Wei-Ling said, bowing her head in gratitude. "But
I fear that I cannot fulfill my quest at this time. For many days now, I have
been searching for the divine relic by which my compact with the gods was
sealed, and which the wicked valkyrie Bramhilde struck out of my hands in
battle. Without it, I fear that it will be beyond me to stop the witch and her
henchwomen."

"You speak wisely, brave swordswoman, and the truth. The sorceress Mariana
LeFoy has grown exceedingly powerful, and what is more, her most loyal knight
has also sealed a compact with a powerful magical being. Yellow-haired
Ophelia, whose garments and skin are white but whose heart is black as night,
now wields a sword more powerful than any weapon in existence, including the
blade that you have lost. It is a blade of faerie origins, that goes by the
dread name of FEYCALIBUR."

"Then... it is true," Wei-Ling said, her voice little more than a dejected
whisper. "Even with 'Blue Wind', our chances are naught. The West has won.
And... we have failed."

The river spirit looked at her for a long time, its genderless face an
inscrutable mask. Finally, it said:

"Look at the wall behind you. Tell me what you see."

Wei-Ling turned around. The reflections from the water pool were dancing
across the rocky surface in blue, snaky lines. Suddenly, the lines began to
grow in size and twist themselves into all kinds of shapes, and the cool
colors to grow warmer and more diverse. Soon, the wall had been trans- formed
into a living canvas, upon which moving images flittered past like
dimly-recalled memories.

Wei-Ling saw the sorceress ascending the stairs within the Hall of Supreme
Harmony. In this heart of Eastern balance and proportion, the presence of the
Western villainess felt downright blasphemous -- everything, from her fiendish
red hair and greedily overproportioned mammaries to the succubus-like sway of
her heart-shaped backside and the courtesan-like slit in her tight-fitting
dress made her seem like the emblem of Western immodesty, promiscuity and
excess. She lowered her pampered rear end into the throne and sat there,
grinning in triumph as she enjoyed a spectacular view of her newly-conquered
domains.

Next, she saw a vision of a fire-blackened landscape, with pillars of smoke
rising in every direction. In the midst of the battlefield, a shining white
pegasus was standing up on its hind legs, with a helmeted rider on its back.
When the rider had surveyed the horizon, she removed her helmet, unleashing a
cascade of golden hair. The rider, of course, was none other than Ophelia the
White, and in her scabbard gleamed the handle of the legendary, dread
Feycalibur. Underneath the hooves of her steed lay the banner of Imperial
Japan, which had been trampled into near unrecognizability.

The next vision was of a great warehouse, filled from floor to ceiling with
luscious silks, golden trinkets, porcelain vases and Chinese artifacts of all
kinds. In the midst of this warehouse stood the duchess Vittoria and her
entourage of sycophants, admiring the haphazardly arranged collection,
following which the group exited the room and locked the door with a great
golden key, plunging the room containing thousands of years of Chinese history
into darkness.

The fourth vision was of the high priestess Isabel, smiling beatifically from
her own throne, while crowds of converted Easterners bowed in front of her.
Behind her, a massive mural depicted the Goddess of Isabel's faith in the act
of speaking to the prophetess Miranda.

Finally, Wei-Ling saw a vast rice field, upon which thousands upon thousands
of Chinese people worked in scorching sunlight, all of them wearing only loin-
cloths, while Caucasian sentries hurried them on with whips. On an elevated
road further away, a cluster of European noblewomen walked past, pointing and
giggling at the suffering of the humiliated Easterners. The noblewomen were
wearing Chinese garments that had been crudely adjusted to fit their curvier
body shapes, so that the chrysanthemum-adorned brocades intended to fit the
swan-like bodies of young Chinese girls were stretched thin over the
foreigners' fat hips, plump butts and bulky bosoms.

A moment later, the visions vanished, and once again the rock wall displayed
only the calm rippling lines of the magical pool.

"This... vision that you have showed me. Is it the present... or the future?"
Wei-Ling asked, her whole body shaking with sorrow and rage.

"It is neither. It is one of two possible futures -- namely, the one that
would occur if you were to take up arms against Mariana in your current
state."

"I saw my people forced into slave labor in their own country... our national
heritage collecting dust in a foreign warehouse... Japan burnt to cinders..."

"As I said, it is one of two possible futures."

"Then what can I possibly do to avert it? You have told me that Mariana and
Ophelia have become an unstoppable force. Even if I find "Blue Wind", and that
is far from likely-"

Wei-Ling fell silent. Right in front of her lay her trusty old sword, still
glowing brightly, in the hands of the river spirit. Suddenly, the sword began
to float up into the air, as if possessed by some higher power.

"Trust in your power and that of your companions, and victory will be within
reach. Make your heart as serene as the cosmic balance, and this sword will
become unstoppable as the will of the Jade Emperor himself. Then, the magic of
Western faerie gods will be as naught before it."

While the river god spoke, the sword transformed itself in front of Wei-Ling's
very eyes: the hilt billowed out into the shape of a golden dragon's head, and
the blue-green tint of the rune-covered blade was exchanged for a dark green
color that seemed to offer a glimpse into some realm of ultimate serenity and
balance.

The symbols along the blade suddenly came alive with a furious red glow. They
now read: "JADE DESTINY".

***

"There it is," captain Broussard declared glumly, pointing into the distance.
She was still naked except for her dainty little undershorts. A collar could
be seen around her neck, and attached to the collar was a leash, the other end
of which was in Shiori's hand.

Shiori placed her hand over her eyes and gazed at the town outline. The dark,
ominous outline of the pagoda towered over the sleepy little town. Indeed,
there was much malevolence in the air here.

"Shiori -- watch out!"

Suspecting what was happening, Shiori dropped to the ground and plunged both
feet into her prisoner's stomach, stopping her mid-attack. The brunette
dropped her knife and went flying over the Eastener's body. Nerg?i grabbed the
officer by her long, chestnut-colored hair, dragged her along the ground
toward a big oak -- "OOHH!! AAHH!! EEKK!!" -- and then flung her upwards. The
curvy bad girl disappeared among the branches, but mid-ascent her panties
caught stuck on a sharp branch, sending her snapping back like a rubber band.
She proceeded to bounce up and down for a while until she came to a resting
point: dangling from the branch in a crotch-splitting wedgie.

"OOHH!!! I-I'm SORRY!! If you -- OOWW!! -- let me down, I-I-I can show you
wh-where lady M-Mariana resides -- AAAHH!! -- p-p-pleeeeeease!!!"

"Sorry, sugartits, you had your chance," Nerg?i said. "I wouldn't trust your
word for all the gold in France, or whatever country you're from."

"That's right. You'd better start steeling that white clit of yours, because
your treacherous snatch is going to be PRETTY sore by sunset."

"B-b-b-by s-sunset!? N-n-noo, COME BAAAACKK!! AAOOHHH!!!"

Ignoring the white woman's wails, the two Easterners shouldered their gear and
set off in the direction of the occupied town.

Although the place was crawling with Mariana's soldiers, Shiroi and Nerg?i
found it easy to blend in (after all, having lost their weapons and armour in
the battle against the valkyries, there was nothing else to identify them by).
It did not take long for them to gather the information that all the key
people in the occupation were residing in a single building: the ancient
pagoda in the center of the town.

Even under hostile occupation, rumour travels quickly in a rural town. Very
soon, the words that had been whispered into ears at one of town had reached
the next: "The three swords have returned, and they want revenge! The
sorceress is finished!"

By the time the sun was setting in the West, whispers had turned to cheers,
which had turned to chants. A mob was slowly gathering on the town square in
front of the pagoda, drawing anxious glances from the Western soldiers. Soon,
the mob had grown so vast that the townspeople outnumbered the guards by forty
to one -- at which point the captain of the guard lost her composure and
screamed at the top of her lungs:

"REINFORCEMENTS! SEND IN THE WHOLE GARRISON! ALL SOLDIERS TO THE TOWN
SQUARE!!"

If the situation was a powder keg, this betrayal of fear was the spark that
lit the fuse. A mighty chant rose among the townspeople, and within moments,
the battle was on.

Spears collided with shovels, swords hacked away at tillers. In the center of
the conflict, Shiori and Nerg?i fought back to back, headbutting and round-
house kicking guards left and right, and gathering an arsenal between them of
weapons from their unconscious foes. When they were satisfied, they walked
side by side up to the venerable gates of the pagoda, exchanged a nod, and
kicked the heavy wooden doors wide open.

*********************** FIRST FLOOR: THE TEMPLE ***********************

Their first visual impression was one of excruciating brightness. The diverse
rainbow colors of Chinese buddhism had been completely eradicated and replaced
with the whites and golds of Isabel's totalitarian religion. A great mural
depicting the Goddess, imperiously seated on her cloud throne and surrounded
by her court of blond female angels, dominated the room. Marble friezes
showing the stern faces of the four prophetesses were located all around the
room, creating the effect of ubiquitous divine surveillance.

"So, the Eastern vermin persist in rebelling against divinely mandated
authority," Isabel's voice echoed across the room. The high priestess was
standing directly below the giant mural, so that all the hosts of her deity
seemed to be rallying behind her.

"Divinely mandated? By whose deity? Certainly not ours," Shiori scoffed.

"Foolish infidels!" Isabel thundered. "There is but one goddess, and you will
soon know her power firsthand. Our most sacred oracle has just begun the
process of establishing a portal to her divine realm. Then the East shall
*truly* come to know the meaning of divine mandate!"

Shiroi and Nerg?i looked in the direction that the priestess was pointing.
There, through a stone wall filled with circular holes, they glimpsed a small
chamber doused in eerie, green light. More fleeting glimpses -- this time of a
nubile female form whirling around in ecstatic dance, with translucent veils
and her long blond hair billowing all around her: the mysterious Celeste.

"Well, whatever you conjure up, we'll be ready for it," Nerg?i grunted.

"Those heathenish words will be your last," another voice uttered nearby.
Luzia, the Grand Inquisitor, soon came marching in through a side entrance,
pursued by the remaining group of Isabel's priestesses (fifteen in total). The
chiaroscuro contrast between the inquisitor's black clothing and the
priestesses' white made her seem rather like a demon leading a squadron of
angels. In one hand she was carrying a sword, and in the other some form of
metallic instrument, which was glowing in one end.

"Now, what fresh devilry is this?" Shiroi asked, spitting on the floor.

"Beats me. I wasn't expecting more than one big baddie on this level."

"No one expects the Grand Inquisition!" the inquisitor cackled, raising her
sword above her head. "Before we kill you, we will convert you, so that you
will depart this realm of life leaving nothing behind -- least of all a
martyr's legacy!"

"For a priestess of ANY religion, you really seem to be one sadistic bitch,"
Nerg?i muttered.

"There is no pleasure like that of torturing a particularly obstinate infidel
into a confession," the inquisitor replied, grinning maniacally. "And since it
is necessary work, I take pride in being the one to do it."

"But this time, you won't be the only one doing it," another voice thundered
from further away. An armoured figure stepped through a second side entrance
and continued walking up to the center of the room with slow, heavy steps. The
head of a golden dragon blazed in the candlelight, as did the gold hilt of a
massive greatsword. The Pendragon had arrived.

"A third dramatic entrance? I refuse to believe that you guys didn't
coordinate this," Shiroi muttered.

"And I, for one, have never had any patience with theatrics," Nerg?i replied,
as she placed an arrow on her bow and promptly let it fly. The projectile
bounced off three friezes and eventually struck a chandelier, precariously
located above the heads of the priestesses. Gravity did its part, and a moment
later, the chandelier lay shattered in the middle of the room, with three
pairs of curvy legs sticking out from underneath it.

"Destroy them!" Isabel bellowed, retreating to a nearby pulpit as the assorted
holy warriors and missionaries closed in on their foes.

The Pendragon made the first move. With a mighty swing of her greatsword, she
split Nerg?i's bow in two. The Mongol, however, simply threw the pieces over
her shoulder and went into a boxing stance. The armoured Westerner attacked
again, twirling the "Goddess' Judgment" around her like a baton, but the
Mongol coolly dodged each blow, and retaliated by landing a punch squarely in
the holy warrior's face. The blow left the brown-haired giant reeling long
enough for Nerg?i to grab hold of the Caucasian's breastplate and tear it
straight off her chest -- revealing only a small linen vest underneath --
attach it to her forearm like a shield, and finally ram it back into its
owner's chest, dragon-adorned outside first.

"UMMMPPHHH!!!" was all the Pendragon could utter as her signature gold dragon
emblem turned on the very breasts it had been designed to protect, mashing the
white orbs flat against its wings and talons.

"And that's why you never bring a coat of armour to a fistfight with a
Mongol!" Nerg?i spat, and proceeded to land punches in the holy warrior's
face, reddening her pearly white cheeks with each blow and drawing fountains
of spittle in the process. When the Pendragon's face had been sufficiently
abused, Nerg?i moved her attention to her chest -- punching those round, perky
mammaries left and right and enjoying the feeble yelps from her utterly
outmatched opponent.

Meanwhile, Shiroi was going positively berserk among the timidly approaching
priestesses, all of whom were realizing with growing horror that fifteen of
them was not nearly enough to stand up to this whirlwind of violence. The
valkyrie sword went dancing through the air, slicing through the smooth white
fabric of the priestly robes like paper. The first two priestesses to step
forward quickly found their clothing and undergarments reduced to tiny strips.
Before they could react with appropriate alarm to finding their chastely
imprisoned boobs, bushes and buns on full, sluttish display, the valkyrie
shield knocked them out clean with a single stroke. The KO'ed priestesses fell
in a neat pile, one falling flat on her boobs and the other landing with her
nose lovingly buried in the crack of her sister's vanilla-colored tush.

"Come at us then, you slaves of a greedy, oppressive goddess," Shiori roared.
"Even if your deity herself came down from her divine realm, you would not
stand a chance. Know that the last time a goddess crossed our paths, we gave
her a spanking on her bare ass and turned her into a trophy!"

She held the valkyrie sword up high. The sight of Bramhilde perched
ignominiously on top of the crystal blade growing out of her golden bum caused
shrieks of alarm, and many of the priestesses actually turned to run. Even
Isabel looked as pale as a ghost.

"Hold your positions!" Luzia cried, pointing her sword forward. "This changes
nothing! The valkyries were a heathen pantheon anyway! Our goddess is probably
smiling at their defeat! Stay in po-"

When the inquisitor turned back toward her foe, she found herself staring
straight into the tip of Shiori's sword. The inquisitor's eyes widened in
panic and she began to hyperventilate.

"I've been waiting to do this from the moment you came in through that door,"
Shiroi said, and proceeded to slowly shred the inquisitor's nun's dress into
the tiniest possible strips, first transforming the skirt into a miniskirt,
then refashioning the top part of the garment into a bra. All the while, Luzia
twisted and squirmed uncomfortably in her place, swallowing at each part of
her snow white body brought into light. The miniskirt became a micro- skirt
and the bra two mere spots covering the inquisitor's nipples, and finally, the
Westerner was left wearing only a pair of tiny, ill-fitting panties (even they
seemed to be scared -- they had already retreated halfway up the inquisitor's
curvy white rump).

"P-P-Please don't hurt me," the grand inquisitor moaned pathetically.

"Actually, I've got better plans for you," Shiroi answered. She slid the blade
of the valkyrie sword into the shivering inquisitor's tight panties so that
the flat side of the steel was resting against the Caucasian woman's ample
buttocks -- drawing an "OOHH!!" from the sensation of cold metal against warm
buns -- and then hoisted her up into the air. The undergarments shot up into
Luzia's moist privates, and continued to eat hungrily into them as Shiroi
swung her sword around in increasingly wide circles, causing the screaming
inquisitor to spin above her head like a wedgie satellite.

When she felt done with her prey, Shiori took careful aim, and then lashed her
sword forward, causing the sore-cooched inquisitor to fly haplessly through
the air and end up snagging her underwear on a gargoyle's head --
"AAAOOOHHHH!!" -- following which she was left dangling in a ferocious wedgie
at a sufficient elevation that each of her priestesses, if they were inclined
to look, would be treated to an eyeful of her gaping wide vagina, lips parted
to accommodate the string of her spelunking panties.

Meanwhile, Nerg?i had stripped the Pendragon down to her frilly white panties,
forced her down on all fours, and was riding on her back like a rodeo rider.
The pacified paladin was propelled forward with hard smacks on her bodacious
rear from the blade of her own sword. It was hard to imagine a more
ignominious position for the proud holy warrior to find herself in, and yet
she found it impossible to respond with anything other than sobs and mewling
noises.

"There's nothing like taking on a big, cocky woman in full armour and find out
that she's really a prissy little girl," Nerg?i chuckled, delivering another
hard spank across her steed's wiggling, quickly reddening ass. "Now get a move
on, horsey, or I'm going to have to spank that butt of yours until it falls
off!"

When the paladin finally collapsed from exhaustion, Nerg?i sat off, took out
the valkyrie shield, raised up the heaving paladin's rear end, separated her
legs, took careful aim, and -- CLLUUUNNKKKK!!! -- rammed the valkyrie-shaped
gold rim far up into the brunette's bulging, round snatch. The blow sent large
gobs of sweat and even some traces of unidentified white liquid flying in
every direction, and immediately sent the paladin plummeting to the floor,
unconscious.

Isabel surveyed the fight with growing alarm. Her priestesses were being
dispatched of as if on a conveyor belt, and the Pendragon herself had been
reduced to a sniveling little girl! Something had to be done. Looking around,
her eyes fell on a golden ceremonial dagger, which had been left on the altar.
Her heart began to pound wildly as she swiped the weapon, hid it in her sleeve
and began to stalk off toward the heart of the brawl.

"Going anywhere, your holiness?" a voice sneered nearby. Isabel leaped in
fright and began to run for cover, but a foot had lowered itself onto the hem
of her robe, and a moment later -- RRRIIITTSSCCHHH!! -- she was standing alone
on the floor, undressed down to the tight, golden-trimmed panties that encased
her untouched womanhood and pert, compact buns. A silence fell over the room,
as everyone's gazes fell upon the "forbidden" graces of the mortified high
priestess, who had placed one arm over her pyramid-shaped ivory breasts, and
another in front of her crotch, and resembled a shy, bathing maiden ambushed
by a crowd of leering peeping toms.

"Oh goddess, do not punish me too harshly for this!" the priestess cried,
turning her face toward the mural on the wall.

"I think the goddess is the least of your problems now, girl," Shiori
chuckled, and delivered a blistering kick to the wicked priestess's
unprotected backside. The tip of her shoe cleaved the holy woman's rear end
and jammed itself force- fully into her crack, striking her tailbone with an
resounding THWUMP! Isabel went flying like a missile and landed with an
echoing SPLAT! on her naked boobs. The landing caused her rear end to arch
upwards and remain in that position -- like a penitent offering to her goddess
-- and everyone could see that Shiori's kick had forced her golden-trimmed
panties so far up her tight white booty that they were more or less invisible,
save for a tiny golden gleam peeking out of her half-exposed pussy.

While this was happening, Luzia the inquisitor had been freed from her crotch-
rending wedgie when her panties just couldn't hold her weight anymore and
burst to shreds -- sending her plummeting to a bone-crunching ass-first
landing on the stone floor. After assuring herself that her bottom was still
there, the sadistic inquisitor had stumbled upon her most fiendish instrument
on the floor: the two-pronged flesh-branding rod used to imprint heathens'
bodies with the symbol of the goddess.

After heating the instrument in a nearby torch until both tips were glowing
hot red, Luzia approached the Easterner from behind, moving silently as a
shadow.

Isabel was back up on her feet and trying to ward off Shiori's sword with her
puny dagger, when the Japanese warrior was alerted by her friend's cry:

"Watch your back!"

Thinking on her feet, Shiori stepped gracefully aside, allowing the frenzied
inquisitor to charge forth with the branding rod held up high, only to dis-
cover -- with a shriek of panic -- that she was headed for a target that she
most definitely did not have in mind.

Isabel dropped her knife and stood with her arms feebly held up, involuntarily
exposing her rosy-nippled white breasts to the attacker. Each tip of the
heated instrument burrowed into the exact center of a milky breast, branding
the evil priestess's sweet, untouched bust with the oppressive symbols of her
own tyrannical goddess.

"AAIIIIIIIIIEEEE!!!" Isabel wailed and fell flat on her butt, legs akimbo. Her
faithful inquisitor immediately dropped down on all fours in front of her
mistress, touching the floor with her forehead in supplication.

"Lady Isabel, I-I-I did not... it w-was... I was tr-trying to--!!"

Meanwhile, Nerg?i had picked up Luzia's still smoking branding rod, and spied
a most tempting object for its use. Enraged, she thought about how many
villagers had no doubt been subjected to the use of this instrument -- it
would only be fair game to wield the inquisitor's own materials against her.

"No excuses, Luzia, you have sinned and need to be purified," the Mongol
growled, after which she promptly thrust the branding rod up against the
villainous inquisitor's upturned ass. The symbol of the goddess seared itself
into each of the ivory white globes of the torturer's round buttocks.

"AAAOOOHHHHHH!!!" the inquisitor screamed and flew into the arms of her high
priestess, so that Isabel's face was momentarily smothered by her creamy white
boobs, before breaking away and fleeing off into the distance, spurred on by
the sizzling pain in her jiggling, deservingly punished rump.

Shiori was just about to turn to Nerg?i snd congratulate her for a battle well
fought, when an ear-splitting, wind-like noise alerted them to the completion
of the supernatural ritual that had taken place nearby.

"Oh great," Nerg?i snorted. "Divine reinforcements."

However, the jubilant cries from the young oracle were quickly replaced with
cries of horror. Soon thereafter, the wall separating the oracle chamber from
the rest of the temple evaporated into thin air, and the Easterners saw with
wonderment what had happened.

Instead of an angel out of the goddess's hosts, the young oracle had managed
to bring forth something else entirely: a huge, golden-skinned woman
levitating in lotus position. The mystical being seemed to exude an aura of
pure calm and balance. Celeste, the young oracle, floated further away,
seemingly para- lyzed by some unknown magic.

"I take it you are not an emmissary of any Western goddess," said Shiori.

"Correct," the otherworldly being said, in a deep, hollow voice that brought
to mind the passing of immeasurable aeons of time. "I am the bodhisattva
Jinyun, and I have come to restore balance to this troubled place."

"B-b-but h-how?" Celeste stuttered, squirming against her invisible fetters.
"I d-didn't summon you?"

"It is true that you have done your best to defile this temple and consecrate
it in the name of your own faith. But when you performed your ritual, you drew
upon the invisible spiritual energy that surrounds this place, and as it turns
out, many centuries of devout Buddhist worship has left a mark much more
power- ful than the superficial consecration enacted two weeks ago. This is
why you mistakenly opened a portal to my realm, rather than that of your
goddess."

"Oh, great bodhisattva," Nerg?i said, averting her gaze from the radiant
being, "as you can see, we are in the process of waging war against a great
evil from the West. Will you aid us in the coming battles?"

"That I cannot do. The crimes of Mariana and her minions are crimes committed
against your world, not mine, and therefore it will be your task to administer
the punishment. There is, however, one being in this room whose crimes
transcend the boundaries between the worlds, and that is the woman who
established this portal."

Celeste stopped squirming and turned pale as a ghost. The bodhisattva raised
her hand and pronounced a single syllable. The next moment, the oracle's veil-
like clothing had vanished into thin air, leaving the willowy little blonde
completely naked.

"Since the girl has meddled carelessly with the forces of the universe, it is
clear that her oracular gifts must be taken from her. I will now discipline
her soul, and bring it down from the irresponsible heights upon which it has
been allowed to dwell for too long."

The young blonde was made to rotate through the air, so that her back and
unclad buttocks were facing the bodhisattva. A new command word forced the
naked girl to bend over, so that her firm, adolescent rear end was arched to
its best advantage. Next, a gargantuan white mallet appeared out of no- where,
both of whose ends were decorated, in glowing raised lettering, with the wheel
of Dharma.

"P-p-please," the oracle stammered, "if I m-must be punished, let me be im-
printed w-with the symbol of the true Goddess, instead of this... h-h-heathen
emblem!"

"Your punishment has been prepared for you, and cannot be averted. As you have
attempted to re-consecrate my temple in your own faith, so shall I
re-consecrate your body with mine."

The mallet raised itself into the air, and fell upon the oracle's youthful
buttocks with a resounding CLANNKKK!! The impact sent vibrations through every
inch of the blonde's gleaming white body, and caused her to howl like a baby
banshee. When the mallet raised itself again, the shivering, marble- colored
tush was sporting a detailed imprint of the Buddhist symbol, with its eight
spokes meeting exactly inside that never-violated rose-colored cavity that
winked so vulnerably in the ravine between the slightly separated buttocks.

"Ouch! Well, the little slut did have it coming," Nerg?i remarked.

"A couple of hundred licks with that mallet and she'll think twice about
summoning *anything* again," Shiori chuckled.

"Hah! Wait, did something just change around here?"

In fact, following another command from the bodhisattva, the room had begun to
change very rapidly. The murals, friezes and gargoyles were crumbling into
fine white dust and scattering in the winds from the open windows. Soon, the
whites and golds of the room had been replaced, once again, with the manifold
reds and greens and oranges of the original Buddhist temple. In the process,
Shiori and Nerg?i became alerted to a feature that had previously eluded their
sight: a spiral staircase that had been half-hidden behind a large tapestry of
the goddess.

"Shall we proceed?" Shiori asked, looking at her friend.

"The sooner the better," Nerg?i replied.

And so the two Easterners ascended the stairs, leaving behind them a
resplendent new Buddhist temple, a pile of knocked-out priestesses in various
stages of undress, a high priestess and her inquisitor nursing their branded
bodies, a holy warrior reduced to a crumpled, naked pile, and an enraged
bodhisattva inflicting divine punishment upon the sweet white rump of the
goddess's chosen mouthpiece on earth.

Not a bad start, the dragon said to himself, watching the whole spectacle from
the comfort of his golden, cloudy realm.

******************************* SECOND FLOOR: THE BANK AND MINT
*******************************

The second floor brought a refreshing change of color. This part of the pagoda
had been refurnished in luscious purples and golds, and the paintings,
sculptures and heavy velvet tapestries adorning each wall gave the place an
atmosphere of spectacular, almost obscene, excess. The most conspicious object
in the room was a huge, clockwork-powered machine that seemed to be operated
by a panel of thick, jewel-adorned levers. Further away, a small golden door
stood temptingly half-open beneath a platinum sign that said: "DUCAL
TREASURY".

"Well, well," a silky, Italian-accented voice purred nearby. "You must be the
two... lesser components of the fearsome Eastern trio." The duchess Vittoria
raised herself out of a sea of velvet and came sidling up the machine with
graceful, feline steps.

"So this is where all the tax money went," Nerg?i scoffed, tearing down a
piece of purple velvet and feeling it with her hand. "Have you no shame?"

"You're not much of an economist, are you?" the duchess replied. "If you could
understand what you're looking at, you would quickly see that I'm the best
thing that ever happened to this region. Isabel with her idols are nothing,
*I* am the one the people should worship as their savior."

The duchess walked over to the machine and began to operate the control panel.
Immediately, the machine sprang to life with a series of whirrs and clicks. A
bucketful of Chinese coins was emptied onto one end of a conveyor belt, which
passed through the noisy tunnel that constituted the rest of the machine.
First, the coins were washed clean in a hot bath, and wiped off with towels.
Then, a network of rods covered with sandpaper went to work on the coins,
methodically erasing any pre-existing images of letters on the currency.
Thirdly, a network of stamps imprinted a new design on the coins (producing
deafening, metallic CLUNKs with each imprint). Next, a large pipe doused the
coins in gold coloring. Finally, the coins were dumped into an oven so that
the paint would dry, following which they were dumped in a large barrel at the
other end of the machine, glittering like sunbursts.

Shiori picked up a coin and held it up to the sunlight. The coin had been re-
branded with a profile of the duchess' head, chin haughtily raised, and the
lettering said: "ONE GOLD ROMOLI. Printed by the Central Bank, Colony of New
China."

"Gold? We just saw how these were made -- it's *clearly* not real gold!"
Nerg?i scoffed.

"Never mind that," the duchess snorted. "This currency is tied to the most
valuable currency in Europe, the *Venetian* romoli printed by my family in
Italy. I am transforming these godforsaken backwaters into an economic power-
house."

"For whom?" Shiori snapped. "Clearly not the actual *people* of China, who
have effectively been turned into slaves. It seems to me that you're just
installing an aristocracy of Westerners who end up with all the wealth, while
the real population are cut out of the profits!"

"Oh, spare me the lecture. Sisters, this is your cue," said the duchess,
snapping her fingers and walking off toward the other end of the room.

Three women, who had been hiding behind sculptures, stepped forth and formed a
line between the duchess and her foes. The clear facial resemblance attested
to the fact that the three were in fact biological sisters.

"We are the Sisters of Fortune," the first woman said, cockily raising up her
sword and resting it over her shoulders. Tall and athletic, she had a cruel,
angular face, a walnut-colored ponytail and cold steel grey eyes. Her clothing
was yellow and black, like that of a wasp, with puffy sleeves and tight,
striped trousers. A large black hat sporting a massive white plume covered
half her forehead. "I am Martina, the Neckslicer."

The second woman wore red and yellow clothing of a similar style. Her hair was
caramel-colored, but her eyes were almost identical to those of her sister. A
red beret sporting a single black feather covered the back of her head. "I am
Carlotta, the Bonecrusher," she said with a dark smile, brandishing a large,
steel-tipped mace.

Finally, the third sister was clearly the youngest; a cackling, petite lass
with dark brown pigtails, a perky, button-nosed face and dirt brown eyes. Her
clothing was green and white, in addition to a studded leather vest and an
enormous brown hat. Her slender hand was twirling a rapier. "And I am
Gretchen, the Heartpiercer."

"Mercenaries, eh? There's a special place in hell for those who join an in-
vasion force for monetary profit," Shiori mumbled.

"Enough of talking," the duchess snapped. "Let's see some bloodshed. Remember,
my Swiss darlings, EIGHT THOUSAND golden romolis for each killing blow. Don't
disappoint me now."

The mercenaries exchanged glances and smiled, while their opponents simply
stared blankly ahead. The nonchalance of the Easterners came as a surprise to
the Swiss sisters, who were accustomed to being treated with fear and awe, but
the reason soon made itself embarrassingly clear. The belligerent posturing of
the European style of fencing proved utterly inefficient against the nimble
exactitude of Asian swordsmanship.

The smug smirk on the duchess' face quickly vanished when the Easterners
launched into a well-coordinated routine: *SWISH!* -- a cross-shaped slash
from Nerg?i's short swords reduced Carlotta's top to ribbons, baring her
freckled jugs -- *CLUNK!* "UUMMPPHH!" -- Shiori's valkyrie shield mashed
Martina's boobs flat and sent her falling flat on her shapely butt --
"OOOHHH!!" -- Nerg?i's short sword pricked Gretchen mischievously in her
unguarded fanny, bringing her up on her toes and leaving a circular hole in
her trousers, right above her dark little anus -- *THWUMP!* "NGGUUHH!!" -- the
edge of the valkyrie shield somehow found its way all the way up into
Carlotta's crotch, bringing the cocky mercenary to her knees in pain --
*SWISH-SWISH-SWISH!* -- a series of perfectly-aimed swings decimated Martina's
clothing to nothing, leaving all her graces on full display -- *rrrrriipppp!!*
-- a single stroke from the valkyrie sword created a tear from Gretchen's
collar to her crotch, which caused her clothing to fall from her body like a
shed skin.

Very soon, the three Europeans were naked from tits to bush, and stood back to
back in a tiny, shivering triangle, while Nerg?i and Shiori circled them like
vultures, allowing their blades to slide along their enemies' naked bodies
like steel-tipped tongues.

"M-Martina, I'm s-scared!" Gretchen stammered, yelping as the edge of the
valkyrie sword trimmed a few hairs from her moist black bush.

"If you don't hurt us, we promise to... uhh... f-fight for your cause in the
future! F-for free!!" Carlotta improvised, sweat pouring from her temples.

"What do you want to do with them, Nergy?" Shiori asked with a con- temptuous
sneer.

"Well, they came all this way for money. It'd be a shame to let them go home
empty-handed," the Mongolian scoffed.

Shiori looked at her quizzically at first, but when it dawned on her what her
friend meant, she broke into a broad grin. A huge golden chest was dragged out
into the center of the room, and the three shivering Westerners aligned in a
row in front of it. Nerg?i grabbed a handful of golden romolis, each coin
about three inches wide, and counted them in her hand.

"Twenty-four romolis... Judging from these girls' ineptness in combat, I'd say
that's a fair reward, don't you think?"

"Who are you calling inept- OOOHHH!!!" Martina moaned -- Nerg?i had inserted a
thick gold coin into the smooth, dark coin slot between the brunette's legs,
and proceeded to push the coin so far into the Caucasian's snatch that it was
no longer visible.

"N-no, don- AAAHHH!!" "Please do- EEEKK!!" Carlotta and Gretchen began to
protest, but were promptly shut up when Shiori plugged their cooches in a
similar fashion.

"Now, ladies, time to bend over."

With nudges and pricks, the ravished Westerners were now forced to bend over
until their hands touched the ground, an action that forced their round rumps
to bob up like ripe white fruits uncovered by the brushing away of a branch.

"AIIEE!!" "OOOHHH!!" "NNNOOOO!!" Working in tandem, the Easterners plopped a
total of four coins into each winking white rump-hole, and made sure to insert
the last one like a cap, with the duchess' face peeking out -- corking each
anus like a bottle of wine, and stretching the walls of each cavity to
accommodate the full width of the coin.

"Damn, those white buttholes are STRETCHY!" Shiori chuckled, running her
finger along the rim of Carlotta's and Gretchen's stretched-out assholes, and
delighting in their shocked yelps. Meanwhile, Nerg?i forced the remaining
coins into the sisters' protesting mouths, and sealed their lips shut with
stickers from the duchess' desk that read: "PROPERTY OF THE COLONY OF NEW
CHINA".

Nerg?i then opened the lid of the chest, and Shiori forced the thoroughly
dominated mercenaries inside with spanks and pinches. Carlotta was forced to
lay down on her back, with Gretchen soon landing on top of her in a 69
position, and Martina piled on top of the other two, lying face down so that
her nose was squeezed flat against the coin stopping up Gretchen's tight anus.

"I hope there's no animosity between siblings here, because you three sisters
are going to be sharing a very small compartment for some time now," Shiori
chuckled, and delivered a final swat to Martina's pasty white tush --
"MMPPHH!" -- before slamming the lid shut.

The Easterners turned around, facing the duchess herself.

"Now, ladies, let us talk things through for a moment," the Venetian noble-
woman began, nervously fingering her necklace. "As you may know, I am per-
haps the wealthiest person in all of Europe. Let me illuminate your options at
this point: you could either, ahem, *dispatch* of me in the same manner that
you did me bodyguards... I can see in your eyes that you're considering this
option... OR... you can make use of my unimaginable wealth and contacts all
throughout the civilized world..."

"We're going with option one," Shiori said, advancing toward the duchess with
swift steps.

"Ehh, I see... hold on, hold on, I'll go along with that... Look -- I'm co-
operating!" the haughty duchess stammered, as she began to hastily undress.
"You see, we Italians have always been a very... *reasonable* people. Dip-
lomacy is our forte, you might say..." Here she gently undid her gown, sliding
it down to her waist and exposing her round, caramel-nippled breasts. "That
perfume you smell on my bosom is worth a whole cartload of gold, could I
interest you in that? No -- fine, fine, forget it!" The gown fell to the
floor, leaving the duchess only in a pair of gold-trimmed French-cut satin
panties. "I am now *completely* in your power... at your disposal... just let
us talk this thr- oh, these too? Very well!" The panties were slid down,
revealing the small jet-black triangle of hair between her thighs.

"Look at that. All that fancy get-up, and she looks just like the rest of them
underneath," Nerg?i scoffed.

"But I'm *not* like the rest of them, in fact I am very skilled in the arts of
love! I-I see you are interested in my body?" Here, Shiori placed her hands
around the duchess' waist and hoisted her up into the air. "That's a good
sign! Let's go to my bedroom! I'll give you pleasure like no woman has ever-
w-wait, what?" Shiori sat down in a chair and promptly draped the duchess over
her knee, pushing her knee into her crotch so that Vittoria's curvy alabaster
buns were pushed upwards and stretched out to their best advantage. "Oh, I
see, you are going to spank me... Well, fair enough, I have been a naughty
woman, and it is high time I get treated to my just desserts! I'm a bad, bad
girl, and my sweet, privileged bottom needs a good tanning! Spank me well and
hard! But after that, let us sit down and talk-"

"Actually, Shiori, I've got a better idea," Nerg?i said, pointing in the
direction of the huge machine, which was still running.

"Wh-wh-what? N-n-no, that's too much! Please, PLEASE, oh, not that!"

And so her punishment was settled. The duchess' hands and legs were tied up
with the two halves of her torn-up veil, and she was promptly dumped on the
conveyor belt leading into the whirring and clicking darkness of her own
machine.

"Let me g- UMMPPBBLLGGHH!!" First, the duchess was dumped and thoroughly
soaked in the water-bath, following which the rapidly spinning towels began to
dry off every inch of her protesting body -- in fact, her body was so
painstakingly polished that it actually began to gleam, causing light reflexes
to flash across her still-jiggling tits and shapely tush. Next, four
mechanical arms carrying sandpaper appeared (here, Vittoria noted with horror
that the fifth arm had been re-equipped with a razor instead!) and went to
work on her naked frame.

"OOHH! AAGGHH! UUUGGHH!" The sandpaper danced across the duchess' white flesh,
leaving a wide pink trail behind. Meanwhile, the razor went its own route,
snipping off Vittoria's black mane and leaving only a gleaming white scalp,
and proceeding to shave off her pubic hair as well, leaving the Italian's
pearly white slit as exposed as on the day she was born.

Once the villainess had been sufficiently sandpapered from neck to toe, she
found herself rolling toward the coin-stamps, whose every drop seemed to be
accompanied by a noise as from a thunderclap. Vittoria swallowed, and looked
down at her unprotected breasts, which would soon be under the implacable
machine.

*CLANK!* "AAOUUHHH!!" The stamp flattened the big, ripe boobs into discs, and
when they bounced up again, they had been deeply imprinted with the text
adorning a normal gold romoli. Vittoria's own face lay superimposed over the
flattened nipples, and the text circled her areolas like hungry snakes.
*CLANK!* "UUUNNGGHH!!" This time, the stamp fell on her sweet, perfectly
smooth snatch, imprinting that as well with the romoli insignia. Here, the
duchess unwisely rolled over on her stomach to nurse her aching privates,
offering up a prime target for the last two stamps... *CLANK- CLANK!*
"EEEKKK!!" Finally, two identical imprints appeared on the center of each of
the duchess' quivering buttocks, neatly cattle-branding the bad girl's
pampered ass with her own face, philosophy and insignia.

"MMPPGGHHH!!" The gilding came next, leaving every curve of the villainess'
naked body doused in sticky gold paint. Finally, she was briefly dumped into
the oven (here, Shiori had mercifully dialed down the temperature), where a
rush of scorching heat sealed the gold paint to her skin, before she was
unceremoniously dumped into the empty coin bucket, which couldn't hold her
weight and spilled her tits-first onto the floor with a loud SPLAT!

"Unnggghhhhh," the duchess moaned, just before passing out.

"Well, she's positively glittering," Nerg?i said, nudging the duchess' gilded,
branded bum with her toe. "How much do you think she's worth at this point?

"I don't care. I've had enough of capitalism for today," Shiori replied, just
before slashing Vittoria's machine into splinters with a well-placed swing of
the valkyrie sword. A hailstorm of golden coins fell across the room as the
two Easterners began to walk in the direction of the next staircase.

****************************** THIRD FLOOR: INTERLUDE
******************************

The third floor turned out to be a near-empty room with four cozy-looking
divans arranged in a circle. Nerg?i dropped her equipment to the floor and
plopped down in the closest one, while Shiori walked over to a window and
looked down at the riot outside.

"Well, I'll be damned," the Japanese woman suddenly ejaculated. "Looks like
the cavalry has arrived at last."

Outside, the combatants were in an uproar, and for good reason: the imperial
Chinese army had finally arrived in full force. Thousands upon thousands of
golden helmets and swords bearing the imperial crest were transforming the
sorghum fields outside the town into a field of blazing gold. The remaining
Western soldiers were outnumbered by an absurd margin, and everywhere you
looked, the curvy guards were either being pounded black and blue or else
rounded up, stripped naked and humiliated by a motley mix of vengeful
villagers and amused imperial soldiers.

"No fair!" Nerg?i wailed. "I'm not gonna let those latecomers beat us to the
last floor, not when we've done all the hard work anyway!"

"I agree," Shiori muttered, "I've punched and kicked my way through a hell of
a lot of goons to get to this point -- the last two butts in this building are
MINE."

"Shall we get moving then?"

"Maybe we should wait for Wei-Ling. Without "Blue Wind", we might be in for a
pretty tough couple of fights..."

"Ah, don't be a wimp, Shiori," Nerg?i chuckled as they ascended the next
staircase, and found themselves in front of a pair of great double doors made
of iron. One of the doors was slightly open, giving the two Easterners a
glimpse of what seemed to be a blindingly white interior. A frosty cold seemed
to emanate from the room, as did a tinkling, angelic female voice humming some
Western anthem. Somehow, they both had the feeling that they were approaching
the very heart of the West.

"And anyway, whatever we do, I have a feeling our good Chinese friend will
show up in the nick of time," Nerg?i smiled, and then kicked the iron doors
open with a harsh battle cry:

"Villainesses beware -- the Three Swords are coming and they are riding the
crest of a WAVE of EASTERN VENGEANCE!"

TO BE CONTINUED