The Girl with No Name
Copyright 2013 by Edward -EC-
EC's Erotic Fiction - /~caligula97030/

(warnings: public nudity, sex between adults, corporal punishment, maledom, 
humiliation, war violence, occult, language)

Chapter Twenty-Nine – The Scribe

After delivering the sedative that would allow Oana to separate her soul from her 
body, Danka returned to the safe-house, changed into a workers' outfit, and left 
Novo Sókukt Tók. She returned to the farmhouse, packed her bucket, and went to 
sleep. She'd have to wait for Ernockt to return from work before departing. He 
had promised to help her leave the area, but he had to stay at his desk in the city 
councilmen’s building until sunset. When Ernockt returned, he handed the stolen 
trial transcripts to Danka. She could look them over if she wanted, but after 
reading them she was to throw the papers into the stove. The transcripts were full 
of mistakes. When Danka pointed that out, her host responded:

"The scribe for the city guards is a total idiot. If you told him that you saw a flock 
of geese walking along a path, he'd put down it was ducks or chickens. So, after 
you're done reading, you can burn this and it won't trouble your conscience. I just 
figured you'd want to see it first."

After a few minutes, Danka opened the door of the stove and pushed in the report. 
She turned to her host.

"Now what? You said you'd help me leave."

"Yes, that's what I said. But I can't go with you. I have to go back to work 
tomorrow and we shouldn't be seen together. I've brought a donkey so you don't 
have to walk. I'll give you some letters so you can pursue your Path in Life in 
Rika Chorna. We need another scribe to follow events there anyway, and we're 
going to see if we can find a position for you with the Vice-Duke or the city 
council."

"So you expect me to work as a scribe and collect information for you?"

"Yes."

"That... really wasn't what I had in mind..."

"Maybe it wasn't. But we did help you with your revenge against Oana, didn't we? 
I risked my own position in this town so you could fulfill your final orders from 
Defender Dalibora. I hosted you for over a month and spent my own money 
buying everything you needed. I do expect you to repay me. I don't want any 
silver, and I wouldn't accept it, even if you offered. What I need from you, and 
expect from you, is your assistance."

"And you expect me to ride to Rika Chorna, by myself, with letters addressed to 
strangers, and assume nothing will happen to me along the way."

"Nothing will happen to you, because you'll be wearing your nun outfit. A nun 
outfit is the same in the Vice-Duchy as a collar would be in the western valley. 
People here don't bother nuns."

"A True Believers' nun? You expect me to travel disguised as a True Believers' 
nun?"

"And what's so surprising about that? You've walked all over the western valley 
wearing nothing but your collar. In the eastern valley, the only way a woman can 
safely move about alone is to be dressed as a nun. Same goal, different outfit."

Danka reluctantly put on the nun's dress. It was unbelievably hot and cumbersome. 
However, outside it would protect her against the cold more than almost anything 
else she could wear. Ernockt handed her a prayer book and protocol manual so 
she could learn to act like a real nun. Among other restrictions, whenever a nun 
was moving around and not carrying anything, she had to keep her hands together 
in prayer. Also, she was not allowed to look at the face of any man. She cringed at 
the ridiculous protocol, but realized the rules would help keep her real identity a 
secret, assuming she could remember to follow them.

Danka was not looking forward to the trip, because she had never traveled in 
November. She had spent plenty of time outside in various places over the winter, 
but never actually journeyed to a new destination. However, her traveling 
conditions certainly could be worse. She’d have a donkey to ride on and carry her 
belongings, and the heavy nun habit, consisting of an under-dress, public dress, 
and winter cape would protect her against the cold.

Danka left the following morning as soon as there was a hint of light in the pre-
dawn sky. The temperature had gone below freezing the night before, making the 
ground solid and covering the landscape with a layer of frost. She traveled along 
the main road, which, combined with the fact she was riding, sped up her trip 
considerably. She had to remember not to look back at any men who were looking 
at her. Occasionally a pair or group of thuggish-looking men approached her, but 
as soon as they saw she was wearing a nun's dress, they moved on. The rules for 
overnight stays were similar for a nun in the Vice-Duchy as they were for a 
penitent in the western valley. The nun approached a church of her choosing, 
knelt until a Clergy member approached her, and was given a meal and a place to 
sleep. The only disadvantage of the arrangement was having to sing and pray with 
any other women who happened to be in the church at that time. Danka was hard-
pressed to learn enough True Believers' hymns to avoid raising suspicions.

She spent a week traveling towards Novo Sumy Ris. When the town came into 
sight, she was tempted to go in and return to the church, but decided against 
taking that risk. She took a road bypassing the town and headed east towards her 
destination, the city of Rika Chorna.

Danka arrived just in time. As she entered Rika Chorna, snow began falling. It 
was the beginning of the winter's first real snowstorm, and it would be 
particularly severe, dropping knee-deep snow onto the central part of the Vice 
Duchy. She knew from experience that towns closer to the foothills, such as Novo 
Sumy Ris and Novo Sókukt Tók, along with the hilly roads that connected them, 
would receive even deeper snow. So...that was it for the year as far as traveling or 
trading were concerned. The roads were blocked and only the most determined or 
fool-hardy would venture out from wherever they happened to be when the first 
snow came down.

Rika Chorna, given its name for the same reason the province carried that name, 
was the second-largest city in the Duchy with more than 40,000 people living 
there. It also was the seat of the region’s ruler, Vice-Duke Petroickt. Like Novo 
Sumy Ris, the regional capitol boasted a large church that was an exact replica of 
the cathedral in the original Sumy Ris. Danka recognized replicas of other old 
buildings from the former capitol, plus copies of less fortunate ancient buildings 
that had since been torn down by the Ottomans over the past two centuries. She 
shook her head, still wondering why, after 250 years, people were so obsessed 
with the old southern capitol. The Grand Duke had nearly suffered a disastrous 
defeat because of his desire for Sumy Ris. For the exact same reason, the 
Defenders did suffer a disastrous defeat. Out of three cities in the Vice-Duchy she 
had visited so far, Danka had seen replicas of the Sumy Ris cathedral in two of 
them. The replicas of the structures in the lost southern capitol surrounded the 
church, but the rest of the city had standard European architecture and reminded 
Danka of her hometown Rika Héckt-nemát. There was no city wall around Rika 
Chorna, nor around any other town in the Vice-Duchy.

Next to the church was the governor's palace, which was by far the most 
significant building in the city. It was larger and more ostentatious than the Grand 
Duke's castle. Unlike the castle, which was built first as a defensive structure, the 
palace did not have high walls and clearly was not meant to serve any military 
purpose. It was built solely as a seat of government and a luxury residence. 
Gardens surrounded it and there was a large courtyard containing a stone bathing 
area for summer swimming.

Danka examined her letters and found a name and house description for her 
contact. She led the donkey to a two-story residence that was behind the 
governor's palace. A woman in a merchants' guild dress answered the door and 
asked the "nun" where she had come from.

"From a farmhouse, right outside Novo Sókukt Tók"

"Very well, sister. You may enter."

The residence was a safe-house belonging to Ernockt's intelligence-gathering 
network. It had a basement with a secret passageway leading to another safe-
house on the same block, so it was easy for anyone entering one residence to exit 
the other and evade surveillance. Inside the house there were two other "nuns" 
and a couple of older men dressed in traders' outfits. Outside the residence, the 
"nuns" couldn't talk to the men, but inside the protocol was more typical of the 
western valley. The men were in charge, but the women could speak freely to 
them and offer their opinions and advice. One of the men went out through the 
other house to deal with the donkey. He brought in Danka's bucket and then took 
the animal to a stable outside town. Meanwhile, one of the women, who 
introduced herself as Sister Zánktia, told Danka to bathe and issued her a clean 
nun's outfit. Danka drew a frustrated breath when she saw the dress. Apparently 
she would remain a "nun". So, the disguise was not just for traveling.

While eating dinner, the two "merchants" and the two "nuns" questioned Danka 
about her general knowledge of the world and the Duchy. They were impressed 
by what she knew and all the places she had visited. They asked her to provide 
writing samples and practice taking dictation, then show them what she knew 
about mathematics and using the abacus. They told her to sing and pray to see 
what her voice sounded like. Like everyone else, her hosts were bewildered by the 
contrast between Danka's lower-class accent and her expansive knowledge of 
academic and intellectual subjects. In spite of a decade of wandering and 
everything that had happened to her, Danka was never able to change her 
intonation and the way she pronounced her words. One of the men commented:

"It's fortunate nuns don't talk much. Listening to your voice is not at all pleasant."

Danka came very close to tearing off her nun outfit and storming out. Dressing up 
as a True Believers' nun was absolutely the last disguise she wanted to wear, and 
now, on top of everything else, that idiot had the nerve to insult her speech. 
However, she had long since learned to never let her temper get the best of her. It 
was heavily snowing outside, her hosts had taken back their donkey, she was in a 
strange city with no money, and she did need to return the favor Ernockt had done 
for her. So, she had to hold her tongue, at least for the moment.

Danka's hosts gave her the chance to sleep and did not force her to go back out in 
the snowstorm. She slept alone in a bed with heavy curtains surrounding it and 
didn't wake up until it was already light outside. The room was bitterly cold, so 
she was torn between wanting to stay under the blankets and being forced to get 
up and use the chamber pot, thus alerting the others she was awake. She was able 
to resist her bladder for a few minutes, giving herself time to think about her 
situation and how best to deal with it. She began to wonder if Ernockt really was 
the one who wanted her to go to Rika Chorna. Was it possible he sent her because 
he was acting under orders from the Prophets in the Great Temple? As for his 
group of conspirators, she didn't know anything apart from what he had told her. 
They could be very powerful or not powerful at all. For the moment it would be 
better to assume the former and that she had no hope of leaving Rika Chorna 
without their permission.

As soon as Danka finished a late breakfast, Zánktia took her to the main church to 
show her around and introduce her as a new nun to the Clergy. She had to endure 
constant whispered reminders of how she should behave as a nun and the 
complicated prayer protocol she needed to use inside a True Believers' place of 
worship. She would have to spend the rest of the month learning hymns and Latin 
phrases, when to cross herself (which seemed to be continuously), and the rituals 
surrounding faction's weird obsession with the execution of Jesus of Nazareth. 
The True Believers seemed to really be worked up about that execution.

The True Believers in the Vice-Duchy were even more removed from Danubian 
traditions than their counterparts in the western valley. One example was the 
difference between the universal acceptance of collars for Public Penance by both 
the Old Believers and the True Believers in the west, and the rejection of collared 
penance in the east. Another example was celibacy. In the western valley the True 
Believers "encouraged" their clergy members to be celibate, but the rule could not 
really be enforced. In the east, the priests had to be celibate. Another example was 
the priests' focus on the deities themselves. In the west doctrine focused on the 
Lord-Creator and his enemy Beelzebub the Destroyer. In the east there was much 
more emphasis on praying to the Virgin Mother and the executed son.

Celibate nuns did not exist at all in the west. In the east there was the convent in 
Novo Sókukt Tók and multiple schools located in various cities. During her stay 
in Novo Sókukt Tók, Danka had learned that for any girl whose parents were not 
willing to pay for a private tutor, the only way to become literate was to seek 
education through the True Believers. The True Believer nuns ran several schools 
for girls in the Vice-Duchy, but they "strongly encouraged" any girl entering their 
schools to become a nun. That "encouragement" became a formal requirement if 
the girl wanted to learn anything more apart from basic literacy. In the western 
valley, most guilds included teaching their members' daughters how to read and 
write as part of their services. The Old Believers ran schools for non-guild 
children and taught boys and girls alike, although the classes were separated by 
sex. So, in the western valley most women had some knowledge of reading and 
writing, while in the Vice-Duchy most women were completely illiterate.

Having to learn the protocol for a nun made Danka think about her upbringing in 
Rika Héckt-nemát. The parish in her hometown was controlled by the True 
Believers, or at least it was in 1750, the year she left. Thus, she already was 
vaguely familiar the main points of the True Believers’ doctrine. Her family didn't 
pay much attention to the Lord-Creator or the executed son, but they frequently 
prayed to the Virgin Mother for favors such as making their chickens lay eggs or 
making their vegetable garden grow. The town's finer residents dismissed the 
Síluckts and their neighbors as worthless illiterates, so they didn't bother taking 
the time to make the laborers understand the more complicated doctrine coming 
out of the Christian Bible.

As Danka looked at all the Virgin Mother statues displayed around the church in 
Rika Chorna, her thoughts drifted to Lilith. In her mind the two deities, the Virgin 
Mother and Lilith, were both foreign goddesses. The goddess who actually had 
character and did things and fought back when the Lord-Creator mistreated her 
was a subject of her admiration. The goddess who did nothing apart from having a 
kid, without even bothering to have sex like a normal human being, was a subject 
of her derision. As for the Son of Man and execution that was the focus of the 
entire True Believers' religion, Danka thought: so what? People are executed all 
the time. Why was being crucified in Jerusalem any worse than hanging on an 
impalement hook in the Kingdom of the Moon? Why was one man's execution 
more important than another's? Of course, she knew the answers to most of those 
questions, having read the Christian Bible. But those answers made no sense to 
someone who was not, and never would be, a Christian. She considered herself a 
Follower of the Ancients, and if she was the last Follower in the entire Realm of 
the Living, then so be it. Zánktia told her they understood her distaste for the True 
Believer's doctrines and practices. Her hosts reminded her that their mission was 
to undermine the True Believers by collecting information and providing it to the 
Grand Duke and the Prophets in Danúbikt Móskt.

Danka responded that she'd do whatever she could to undermine the True 
Believers, because her hatred of their doctrine and beliefs was visceral.

----------

Danka moved out of the safe-house at the beginning of December. Her handlers 
felt she was ready to begin the next phase of training for her clandestine life by 
living among the city's real nuns. Zánktia took her to a house adjacent to the 
church to live with 17 other women, all nuns who had gone through the True 
Believers' school system and ordained at the convent in Novo Sókukt Tók. Danka 
stood out among her companions because she was an outsider and much more 
attractive than any of the others. She was 23, but she looked considerably younger 
because she had been administering herself doses of Babáckt Yaga's mushroom 
tea over the past seven years. The others looked her over with suspicion and 
jealousy. On the first night at her new home, Danka had to endure a sermon by the 
leading nun talking about the danger of physical beauty and how it led to carnal 
sin.

The nuns in Rika Chorna divided themselves into two groups: scribes and 
instructors. The younger women spent their days transcribing endless hymn sheets 
and copying or preparing church correspondence such as letters and directives. 
The clergy from the main church kept meticulous records of all happenings, 
which the Bishop wanted transcribed in clear, attractive handwriting on fine 
parchment. Danka frequently transformed a hastily-written note into a finely-
written letter with improved vocabulary, converting it into a document that could 
be sent off and make the author look good to his reader. Meanwhile, the older and 
more trusted members of the group spent their days in a less grueling manner, 
giving literacy classes to local girls in a house adjacent to the one where they 
lived.

Danka took notes on anything she felt was important and compiled them into a 
sheet of parchment written with the smallest handwriting possible to conserve 
space and paper. She kept the reports hidden in a special pocket inside the lining 
of her dress. She read and memorized as much as she could of her companions' 
writings, making notes and passing them to her contact. She spent her sparse 
spare time reading every book in the house, although unfortunately most of the 
material was about theology and True Believers' doctrine. She received plenty of 
insight about the workings of the diocese and its relationship with the Roman 
Church, but not much else. Every few days Zánktia passed by with a delivery of 
washed linens and Danka slipped her the notes she had collected over the past few 
days. Usually there was a small paper handed to her in return, containing 
comments on what information was useful and what information was not, along 
with requests for additional notes on specific topics or persons. 

Danka's handlers seemed especially interested in learning about movements 
within the clergy, knowing who was traveling to different locations and why. 
During the winter there was not much movement, but Zánktia wanted Danka to 
practice providing information on any traveling to prepare her to make 
comprehensive reports when the True Believers moved about in the summer. 
Danka sighed. Next summer. She couldn't imagine spending an entire summer in 
her horrible outfit sitting at a desk in a room full of insufferable, hostile, ugly, 
companions. She'd have to figure out how to extricate herself.

----------

Danka spent four months transcribing documents. Throughout the entire winter 
she never left the residence, except to go to the church for daily prayers and hymn 
practice. Danka's fellow scribes did not talk much to each other and talked even 
less to her. They sang and prayed as a group, but spent their meals and their duties 
in silence. She slept in a room with five other women, but never conversed with 
them. 

The room was cold and usually Danka was so tired that she fell asleep 
immediately. However, about once a week she had insomnia and would spend 
hours lying awake, thinking about Ilmátarkt. She didn't have much time to think 
about him or truly grieve over his death during the past year, but lying alone in 
that cold bed, tormented by loneliness and sexual frustration, she realized how 
much she missed her late husband. She could have enjoyed a happy life with him, 
had the Destroyer not taken him away. He satisfied her sexually, treated her with 
respect, and challenged her intellect. Also, in his own manner, detached and 
intellectual as it was, he did love her. She could not share the pain of being a 
widow with anyone, so she had to grieve for him in silence, by staring into the 
darkness and allowing tears to run down her cheeks.

----------

When the weather started to warm up towards the end of March, Danka wrote 
note to Zánktia informing her handlers that they would have to find her another 
assignment. There was no way she would tolerate staying with the nuns over the 
summer. She expected the answer to be no; that she'd have to stay in the house 
indefinitely. However, on the final day of March, an official from the Vice-Duke's 
palace showed up with Sister Zánktia. He ordered the scribes from the residence 
to line up and for each to hold a sample of her writing in front of her. Danka's 
handwriting was not the best from the group, but her face caught the official's 
attention. He looked her over and asked her some questions about her background. 
She responded with a fictional biography given to her by her handlers, that she 
was daughter of a devout guildsman from Novo Sókukt Tók.

The official violated protocol by pulling off her hat to have a better look at her 
head and braided hair. The other nuns quietly gasped and flinched at the act of 
disrespect.

"It's a pity you'd waste your beauty like this."

Danka pretended to be extremely nervous, but inwardly she was concealing hope 
that her intolerable life was about to change. The fact that Zánktia was with the 
official raised her anticipation of a transfer or change of assignment. The official 
quietly spoke to the leader of the residence. She cast a suspicious look at her 
young subordinate, but nodded and put her hands together in prayer. The official 
motioned Danka to follow him.

Danka left the residence without going back inside or even saying goodbye to 
anyone. She kept no belongings in her room and the few items she did have with 
her, such a small supply of blue powder, the ingredients for making birth-control 
paste, her comb, and the thread for cleaning her teeth were safely stored in special 
pockets she had sewn into the lining of her dress. She had not seen her bucket 
since November: she could only hope it was still at the safe-house.

----------

The official and the two "nuns" walked the short distance between the scribes' 
residence and the entrance to the Vice-Duke's palace. Parts of the palace exterior 
had been within Danka's range of view throughout the entire winter, but she never 
had set foot inside. The day was grim, rainy, and overcast, but Danka could feel a 
hint, just a hint, of spring in the air. 

Danka's escorts led her through the outer door of the palace into the most 
luxurious room she had ever seen. The decor was Baroque and modeled after a 
palace in France. Expensive-looking vases imported from China sat on equally-
fancy tables. The corridors were filled with paintings and statues, including 
multiple busts of the Vice-Duke.

Beyond the main entrance and reception area a large set of glass doors opened up 
into a finely-trimmed garden. The grounds were meticulously maintained, much 
more so than in the Grand Duke's castle. Actually, the Grand Duke's residence, as 
luxurious as it was to a person with Danka's upbringing, was Spartan compared to 
the abode of the Vice-Duke. As she looked around at all the statues and imported 
decor, she wondered how much money the Vice-Duke was spending on his 
residence. After seeing the interior of the palace, it wasn't hard to understand why 
taxes were such a problem for the Vice-Duchy's farmers and guildsmen.

The main section of the palace boasted a large round ballroom covered by a dome 
painted with angels flying around in puffy clouds. The area under the dome was 
surrounded by marble pillars and stain-glass windows. Portraits of the Vice-Duke 
and his family members covered the walls and statues stood in front of each pillar. 
Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Danka was no connoisseur concerning 
decor, but compared with the somewhat simpler furnishings of the Grand Duke, 
she felt the palace in Rika Chorna was decorated in poor taste.

The exaggerated decor did not draw Danka's attention nearly as much as how the 
palace women were dressed. To a Danubian, especially a lower-class woman like 
Danka, the palace clothes were truly shocking and scandalous. The wives of the 
Grand Duke and his advisors boasted impossibly heavy and complicated silk 
dresses imported from France. Like all Danubian women, the palace residents 
wore their hair in braids, but those braids were covered by over-sized wigs. Seven 
years before, Danka had seen some fashionable European clothing when she 
traveled north of the Danubian border with the Followers, but to see such 
exaggerated get-ups in the Duchy itself was a shock. Danka later found out the 
elite women did not dare go out on the street in their foreign outfits, but the palace 
had unique protocol and any respectable woman had to wear French clothes while 
inside to distinguish herself from the “uncouth” commoners outside.

The group approached the area where the Vice-Duke had his conference rooms 
and living quarters. They entered a luxurious reception area that was smaller than 
the outer reception area, but still large and ostentatious. The area was comfortably 
warm, heated by the cave-charcoal stoves Danka had introduced to the Grand 
Duke a few years before. There were several guards in the room, along with a 
group of noblewomen and a couple of advisors holding rolled-up documents. 
Danka had never seen a picture of Vice-Duchy’s ruler and thus not sure what he 
looked like. However, in a palace full over over-dressed people he stood out, 
wearing an outlandish silk outfit covered with lace and jewels, topped with a cape 
made of imported white fur. His head was properly shaved, but Danka had no way 
of knowing that because the ruler wore an enormous white wig. On top of the wig 
he wore a crown so full of jewels that one could barely see the gold or silk 
underneath. With him were three effeminate-looking teenaged boys wearing 
equally effeminate clothing. One of the boys was carrying a falcon with its head 
covered by a tiny hood. Danka correctly assumed the teenagers were the Vice-
Duke’s sons.

As she approached the Vice-Duke and the boys (if that’s what one chose to call 
them), she tried to make sense of the bizarre spectacle in front of her. It was very 
fortunate that she already had seen pictures of late eighteenth-century western 
European royalty, so she understood the Vice-Duke and the members of his 
entourage were attempting to model themselves after elite fashion in places like 
Paris. Obviously the eastern nobility viewed traditional Danubian culture as 
primitive and uncouth. Perhaps they had to live in that inferior culture, but that 
didn’t mean they had to sink to the simplistic and uncivilized behavior of their 
subjects. The entire set-up would have been more pathetic than offensive, had it 
not been for the crushing taxes the farmers and guildsmen had to pay to maintain 
it.

The official saluted the Vice Duke and his sons while the two “nuns” knelt and 
clasped their hands together in prayer. The boys were leering at Danka. As soon 
as the official explained that a new scribe had been brought from the local nuns’ 
house, the ruler told the two women to stand up. He examined younger nun.

“Her face is very pretty. Let me see the rest of her.”

The official turned to Zánktia: “Strip her. Remove that habit and whatever she’s 
wearing underneath.”

Danka’s companion froze, unsure that she had heard the command correctly. Her 
eyes went wide and she glanced around the room, noting there were a dozen other 
people present. When she opened her mouth to object, the official slapped her 
hard across the face. The blow was so hard and so unexpected she fell to the 
ground. The official kicked her to get up.

“What’s wrong with you, nun? Are you stupid or just rebellious? I told you to 
strip that girl! Now do it!”

Danka could tell Zánktia was as shocked as she was, that she had not expected to 
have to strip her. Reluctantly, with trembling hands, the other woman unfastened 
the hooks holding Danka’s collar in place and lifted her outer dress over her 
shoulders and head. She untied the stays of her inner dress and let it fall to the 
floor. Danka was terrified, but not in the way a normal nun would have been. She 
was not bothered being naked in front of others, but obviously in the Vice-Duchy 
being publicly stripped, especially for a nun, was meant to be a major humiliation. 
Had she been in the western valley she simply would have stood straight, with her 
eyes facing forward and her hands at her sides. However, in Rika Chorna she 
knew that she needed to behave like a real True Believers nun would act under the 
circumstances. She cowered and tried to cover herself, and even forced tears to 
come to her eyes. The official yelled at her and slapped her several times before 
she “managed” to stand straight and uncover herself. Keeping up the façade of 
unbearable shame, she closed her eyes, clenched her fists, and pressed her legs 
together. She felt a hand fondling her breasts and heard the Vice-Duke’s voice.

“Very nice. Very nice indeed. Yes, she’ll do. She’s very young and her bosom is 
firm. You did well, Sister, to bring her to me.”

“To hear is to obey, your Excellency.”

The Vice Duke further humiliated Danka by ordering her to assume the 
“prisoner’s stance”, standing with her feet spread and her hands clasped behind 
her head. He ordered Zánktia to kneel while she neatly folded Danka’s dress and 
under-dress so she could take them out of the palace. For the time that she served 
in the Vice Duke’s residence, Danka would be kept completely naked. The boys 
continued leering at her as the other women approached. The over-dressed 
noblewomen surrounded the naked newcomer and the kneeling nun, quietly 
whispering comments meant to be overheard and meant to embarrass the two 
churchwomen. Danka wondered how on earth the Vice-Duke could get away with 
so badly mistreating nuns, but she later learned he was free to take liberties with 
the women because he supported the True Believers’ policies and was generous to 
the Bishop with his tax revenues.

The Vice-Duke dismissed Zánktia and ordered Danka to follow him through 
another set of doors into the inner palace. She passed a library where two naked 
scribes were copying letters, and another room where an advisor was dictating a 
speech to another naked scribe. He clapped his hands and a naked woman rushed 
out and knelt at his feet. Danka noticed she had a large number “1” written in ink 
on her right shoulder.

“A newcomer. Clean her up and put her to work.”

“To hear is to obey, your Excellency.”

The Vice-Duke was ready to dismiss Danka, but one of his sons wanted to fondle 
her. He granted permission and Danka was ordered to bend over and grab her 
ankles. The teenager spent several minutes caressing the newest scribe’s bottom 
and thighs. He then started spanking her. He spent a long time slapping her 
backside, slowly turning it pink. The punishment was humiliating, but the boy 
was not hitting her hard at all. She said nothing, wondering if he was just playing 
with her or if he really was not very strong. When the teenager finished, the 
kneeling woman whispered to Danka to kneel next to her. Then she whispered:

“You need to thank the prince for correcting your arrogance. Thank him, kiss his 
shoes, and thank him again.”

Danka did as she was told. She put her hands together in prayer, stated: “Thank 
you, my Prince, for correcting my arrogance”, knelt forward to kiss his shoes, and 
repeated the phrase. Satisfied they had sufficiently humiliated their newest servant, 
the Vice-Duke, his sons, and their escort left the two women and returned to the 
ballroom.

As soon as the door closed, the woman stood up and ordered Danka to follow her 
to washroom. She introduced herself as Scribe # 1 and told Danka that she would 
be known as Scribe # 8. “That is now your name. Scribe # 8. No one here is 
interested in whatever name you were using when you came in. You’re Scribe # 
8.”

As the newcomer sat in a bathtub, Scribe # 1 unbraided and washed Scribe # 8’s 
hair. While they waited for her hair to dry so it could be re-braided, Scribe # 1 
explained what was going on. Like Danka, she had come to the palace as a nun. 
There were 10 scribes at any time, and all except one had been a nun prior to their 
internment in the palace. The Vice-Duke preferred having nuns as palace scribes 
because they were clean, obedient, had the best penmanship, and most of all, were 
fun to embarrass by forcing them to be naked. The forced nudity totally 
humiliated them as women and made them understand how inferior they were to 
anyone else in the inner palace. There was a more practical purpose as well, to 
make sure the scribes couldn’t try to escape or conceal anything they were 
carrying. 

After the newcomer was cleaned up, Scribe #1 picked up a quill and inkwell and 
carefully drew a large number “8” on Danka’s shoulder. The two scribes then 
reported to a room full of books, detailed maps of various localities in the eastern 
valley, and ledgers that Danka quickly learned were tax records. Two unpleasant-
looking men were in the room. Like everyone else in the palace, they wore 
foreign instead of Danubian clothing, but at least their outfits were not nearly as 
outlandish as those worn by the nobility.

The two women knelt as the leading scribe introduced Scribe # 8. The men 
ordered the two women to copy a series of letters and records describing the trial 
and execution of two farmers for tax evasion and the eviction of a couple of 
neighbors suspected of helping them. Throughout the rest of the day the two 
scribes would be copying similar correspondence, and in doing so Danka would 
quickly learn about the inner workings of the Vice-Duchy’s government. It 
seemed the Vice-Duchy’s operations centered upon collecting as many taxes as 
possible; that almost all of the guards’ activities in some way were focused on 
seizing revenue. The Vice-Duke re-distributed funds to his favorites and more 
importantly, the True Believers’ Church hierarchy. Most of the remaining wealth 
went into maintaining the palace and purchasing imported luxuries. Danka 
already had noticed the eastern part of the Duchy seemed much poorer than the 
western part, and now she knew why. The Vice-Duke was not spending any of his 
wealth on the public’s education or infrastructure improvements.

----------

At the end of her first day, the ten scribes ate a silent dinner together. After the 
women cleaned their teeth, Scribe # 1 escorted the newcomer to the washroom. 
The scribes bathed in pairs in a special washroom that contained not only a small 
tub and a stove for heating water, but also a row of comfortable-looking chairs. 
The tub was too small to sit in and had a bar hanging over it. After she and Scribe 
# 1 relieved themselves in the privy, Danka found out why the washroom was set 
up in such a manner. Several men and boys dressed in fancy imported clothing 
came in and sat in the chairs. It turned out that the scribes had to take turns 
washing each other in front of an audience. She had to hold onto the bar and face 
her audience while her partner soaped and massaged her body. That soaping 
included her vulva. In front of a group of males, the scribes were required to clean 
and massage each other’s bottoms and vaginas. It was a gross violation of 
protocol meant to express domination over the women, in the same way the Grand 
Duke forced his concubines to keep their hair unbraided. 

Danka was used to enduring a lot of different indignities, but the bathing 
performance was something new. Scribe # 1 not only had to run her hands all over 
Scribe # 8’s bottom and pubic hair, but she also was required to push a soap-
covered finger deep into her companion’s vagina and sphincter, “to make sure she 
was absolutely clean”. The women switched places and Danka had to bathe 
Scribe # 1. When Danka soaped her companion’s vulva and pushed her finger 
inside, she noticed tears running down her face. After having been in the palace 
for nearly a year, Scribe # 1 still could not suffer such humiliating treatment in 
public without crying. After finishing their bath and drying off, the two scribes 
had to present themselves to their audience. They had to turn around and bend 
over to allow the men to fondle and caress their bottoms and legs. When the 
treatment was finally over and the audience left, Scribes # 1 and # 8 cleaned up 
the bathroom and brought in several buckets of fresh water. The next show would 
be in an hour, featuring Scribes # 4 and # 6. Scribe # 1’s eyes were still full of 
tears. She commented:

“We were lucky today. Sometimes they make us… do unspeakable things in 
there.”

As they walked down the hallway, Danka thought about asking her companion for 
more detail, but figured she’d find out soon enough about the “unspeakable 
things”. Instead, another question came into her mind.

“Does His Excellency ever… take liberties with us?”

“No. He has a couple of finely dressed mistresses running about. Those two (and 
the Vice-Duchess) keep him busy. We’re not nobility, so we’re not worth his 
trouble. I guess that’s fortunate. Besides, we’re churchwomen and we’re supposed 
to be chaste.”

“Chaste? After what we did in the washroom?”

“The men in the palace can’t use us as women. That’s the agreement His 
Excellency has with the Bishop. So, our ‘chastity’ is safeguarded. But, in every 
other way possible, they enjoy dishonoring us and mocking us.”

The scribes entered their sleeping quarters. The room was not heated, but it had 
five very comfortable beds surrounded by curtains. The scribes slept in pairs. 
Danka’s suspicions about the arrangement were confirmed when she heard faint 
moans from behind the curtains of one of the beds. Scribe # 1 opened the curtains 
to an empty bed and motioned the newcomer to pull down the covers and get in. 
Danka reluctantly obeyed. Scribe # 1 followed her in and closed the curtains.

“When I told you we have to do ‘unspeakable things’ to each other, did you 
understand what I meant by that?”

“Yes.”

“You’re lucky, because I didn’t. Anyhow, it’s best that you practice and accustom 
yourself to doing what they want. They’ll whip you and put you on the pillory, the 
one in the city’s main plaza, if you don’t. That’s how I spent my second day here, 
on the pillory. It was cold outside and I nearly froze to death. The only reason I 
didn’t was that a guard took pity on me and set up a brazier of cave charcoal 
underneath me, to keep me warm enough to stay alive.”

Danka said nothing, but she had a flashback of the horrid hours she spent on the 
pillory almost a decade before. The experience was one that a person never forgot. 
And hers was during the summer. She didn’t want to imagine what spending a 
day on the pillory would be like if the weather wasn’t warm. Scribe # 1 changed 
the subject:

“I have seniority over you. I expect you to obey me and do anything I ask of you. 
Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand.”

“Good. Then I need you to rub my body. That includes the area between my legs. 
I’ll tell you when I want anything more.”

Danka knew how to give a sensual massage to another woman because of the time 
she spent with Antonia. She also knew how to give a massage that relaxed a 
partner and was likely to put her to sleep. She applied that experience while 
massaging Scribe # 1 and had her unconscious within a few minutes. She exhaled 
a huge sigh of relief when her companion’s breathing changed to that of a 
sleeping person. At least that night she’d be spared from having to do 
“unspeakable things” with her.

----------

No one from Ernockt’s group had yet contacted Danka about her situation, but 
starting on the second day she decided to begin taking notes and making 
summaries of tax collectors’ correspondence, reports from the guards, and any 
other papers she could look at and understand. No one in the palace seemed to 
notice or care about what she was doing. The other scribes were too mortified at 
their own nudity to pay attention to anything other than their own duties, while 
the members of the palace entourage were too self-absorbed with fashion and 
personal intrigues to suspect a nun recruited as a female scribe might be part of a 
conspiracy against them. So, Danka spent all of her spare time working on her 
notes and by the end of the first week had assembled ten pages of information 
written on scrap pages of parchment. As always, she wrote in the tiniest script her 
quill would allow and thought about how she might invent a system of code or 
shorthand to further conserve space. As for hiding the papers, there was no need 
to worry about that at all. Scribe # 1 had issued a portfolio to hold her unmarked 
parchment, drafts, and practice writings, so she simply carried the collected 
information with her other notes. If anyone examined them and asked her what 
they were, she’d simply say she was teaching herself to write in small script and 
the pages were for practice.

Danka was exposed to a lot of information about the workings of the Vice-Duchy 
during her first week at the palace. She sat taking notes in meeting after meeting 
for 12 hours each day. When she wasn’t taking dictation, she was transcribing 
correspondence, including some letters between the Vice-Duke and foreign 
leaders. She discovered the Vice-Duke was worried about the Grand Duke’s 
consolidation of power over the western half of the Duchy. The Vice-Duke also 
expressed in correspondence that he was jealous of the Grand Duke’s popularity, 
given that he was little more than an uncouth military leader and understood 
nothing about acting like a nobleman and enjoying cultured activities.

By the end of her first week in the palace, Scribe # 8 already understood much 
about the Vice-Duchy and how its ruler contrasted with the Grand Duke. It was 
obvious the Vice-Duke was completely absorbed in his own world of western 
royal culture. It also was obvious the Vice-Duke had none of the Grand Duke’s 
virtues as a ruler. He surrounded himself with expensive art and a ridiculous 
palace and was totally cut-off from the realities of life in the Vice-Duchy. He 
wanted to live a sumptuous lifestyle worthy of western kings, without 
understanding that luxury and a fancy palace did not equate legitimate rule. 

In contrast, the Grand Duke moved among his subjects and through interacting 
with normal people was very aware of conditions around the western valley and 
Hórkustk Ris province. Apart from keeping up his castle, he did not spend much 
of the Duchy’s treasury on the Royal Family. His one extravagant expenditure, 
maintaining a harem of concubines, had a specific purpose, to eventually augment 
his control over the outer regions of the Duchy. 

Danka had always feared and hated the Grand Duke because of what he did to her. 
However, seeing how odious and incompetent the Vice-Duke was, she was able to 
view the Grand Duke in a more objective manner. Whatever his flaws as a man, 
the Grand Duke was a competent ruler who surrounded himself with competent 
advisors and was genuinely concerned about the safety and physical well-being of 
his subjects. He took personal responsibility for his actions and decisions. 
Whenever he could, the Sovereign led his army into battle and had placed himself 
at great physical risk on several occasions. In doing so, he had earned the 
admiration of his men and the loyalty of the western half of the country. 
Meanwhile, the Vice-Duke assumed he deserved the loyalty of his subjects 
because of his birthright, without having to do anything to improve their lives or 
earn their respect.

----------

On the eighth day of her internment in the palace, a guard she had never seen 
before approached Scribe # 8 with a letter his commander needed transcribed. 
Following protocol, she knelt while receiving the assignment. To identify himself, 
the guard handed her a package containing the items she had kept inside the lining 
of her nun’s dress. They exchanged nods to acknowledge each other’s 
membership in the conspiracy.

“My commander will be very eager to receive the transcription of his letter. My 
other commander, the one to whom you owe a debt, is anticipating the 
correspondence you have prepared for him. You have prepared such 
correspondence, haven’t you, Scribe?”

“Yes, My Protector, I have.”

Danka reached into her portfolio and handed the guard the 10 sheets of finely-
printed notes. The guard quickly glanced at the papers and hid them under his vest.

“You have done well, Scribe. I will return for the letter this afternoon.”

“Yes, My Protector.”

Danka stood up, enormously relieved to have finally received communication 
from her co-conspirators and verification she was where she needed to be. She 
spent the rest of the day transcribing notes about the Bishop’s efforts to identify 
people likely to be sympathetic to the Old Believers, and working on the letter in 
her spare time. Thinking the Church information might be important, she made an 
extra set of notes to hand over to her contact when she saw him in the afternoon. 
The letter for the commander was legitimate, so there would be no concern about 
the guard and the scribe being seen together. The guard returned to pick up his 
commander’s letter just as Scribe # 8 was leaving the conference room for dinner. 
She knelt as the guard took the letter and looked it over.

“This document will be satisfactory. Next time please leave more space along the 
right margin. The other commander is quite pleased with your efforts and wishes 
to thank you for your dedication. You have done well, and your information about 
the Bishop and His Excellency’s troubles with tax evaders is most useful for the 
future harmony of our fair land. Also, as we all know, women are the source of 
much evil, especially women with fine clothing and idle hands, which the 
scripture has warned us about. Gossip and intrigues can be most harmful to a 
royal house. Is that not so, Scribe?”

“Yes, My Protector.”

“Very well, Scribe. When my commander needs another letter, I will ask you to 
perform the favor of transcribing it.”

“Do you know when that might be, My Protector?”

“No, Scribe, I do not. Tomorrow it might rain, or the sun might shine. The right to 
make that decision belongs to the Lord-Creator, not to me.”

“Yes, My Protector.”

So, as she ate with her silent companions, Danka was satisfied that at least she 
had an idea what kind of information she needed to collect. She had been correct 
to gather everything she could about the Bishop and his activities. Information 
about tax collection efforts turned out to be more important than she had 
previously thought. She had a new tasking, to attempt to overhear gossip among 
the women and report on any feuds or intrigues among the Vice-Duchy’s favored 
families.

So, for the next month Danka’s life mostly centered on long hours spent with a 
quill in her hand in the Vice-Duke’s study or the officials’ conference rooms. She 
transcribed several meetings between the Vice-Duke and various Church officials 
as they negotiated how much tax money the ruler had to pay in exchange for full 
support from the True Believers. There was talk of identifying and executing 
sympathizers of the Old Believers and renegade Followers of the Ancients. 
Whenever possible, Scribe # 8 noted the names of targeted people, hoping her 
contacts would collect the information in time to warn the suspects or take other 
actions to prevent their arrests.

----------

The palace entourage continued their sexual humiliation of the former nuns 
throughout the time Danka was known to Rika Chorna as “Scribe # 8”. The 
women bathed every 48 hours, and every single time they entered the washroom 
they had to endure soaping and fingering each other in front of an audience of 
men and boys. Then, of course, they had to bend over and submit to “inspections” 
and more fondling. 

Danka managed to put off doing “unimaginable things” with Scribe # 1 for a 
week by massaging her to sleep every night. However, two nights after she sent 
off her first intelligence report, Danka’s bed partner was less tired than normal 
and refused to accept a relaxing massage. Instead, she ordered Scribe # 8 to 
massage her between her legs and run her fingers through her pubic hair. She 
rolled over and ordered the newcomer to kiss her bottom and lick the area around 
her sphincter. It was very fortunate she had just bathed before forcing Danka to 
stimulate her there, or else Danka would have become sick. Scribe # 1 then 
flipped on her back and ordered Danka to put her face between her thighs.

“You’ll have to learn how to do this, and do it properly if you don’t want the whip 
and the pillory. The next time we bathe, His Excellency will want to watch us 
perform… to do the unspeakable for him. So, you’ll need to do it to me. I am not 
doing it to you. I’ve dishonored myself enough and now it’s someone else’s turn. 
Now, start kissing and licking me. Put your tongue inside. You’ll need to figure 
out how to satisfy me so you can do it again when we bathe tomorrow.”

It was fortunate Danka had so much experience with sex, because even though 
she had never touched any other woman apart from Antonia, she knew what 
sensations aroused a typical female. Ignoring the fact she was doing the most 
dishonorable thing imaginable for a woman, she pushed aside her disgust and 
misgivings and concentrated on the task of making Scribe # 1 climax as quickly 
as possible. She avoided sticking her tongue into Scribe # 1’s vagina. She used 
her fingers instead and concentrated her tongue on her partner’s clitoris. Within 
less than two minutes Scribe # 1 climaxed, moaning as the scent of her arousal 
filled the inside of the bed’s canopy. Danka then massaged her to make her go to 
sleep. She opened the curtains to let out the stench while she went to the wash 
basin to rinse off her face and clean the taste from her mouth. 

No, she would not be crying or show herself as mortified the following evening. 
She’d simply do as she was told, make Scribe # 1 climax in front of their audience, 
and get the whole thing over with as quickly as possible. It was nothing more to 
her than a disagreeable tasking, just like everything else she had to do in that 
awful palace.