Alice’s massage and almost casual discussion of the differentiation and intricacies of demonkind lulled the overworked priestess to a comfortable haze, soon to be followed by a deep, relaxed trance.  While elves didn’t sleep, per se, she was comfortably resting as her mind focused on the erotic horrors of slime, scale, claw, tentacle, and dark humid caverns; Oparal’s breath was deep and slow now, contrasted with the near-hyperventilation she was experiencing before.<br/><br/>Looking around the dorm, there was evidence of many project being juggled, one of which was a large load of expensive-looking laundry to be cleaned and pressed.  And conveniently on top was a little black thong Alice knew by description.  The front had a yellow topaz set just so, which Alice could see could easily massage and tickle one’s parts through the fine soft silk and lace.  The size too, could be seen to fit an elf’s petite rear, rather than a more voluptuous half-elf like guildmistress Arala.  Clearly something so fancy wouldn’t belong to Oparal, it must be the laundry of her mistress, priestess Sylia.  Pocketing the delicate garment was simple, and it was up to Alice whether to let the frantically overworked Oparal get a rest for once, or set her back on her endless duties—sans one pair of underwear.<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Back in the treehouse office of the guildmistress, Arala was looking pleased and eager with Alice’s prize.  “So you did some social engineering with an underling to get insider access.  Very nice, a light touch can go a long way keeping things smooth.  I was a bit curious if some fiendish wasp or avenging angel would be summoned if you stepped foot in Sylia’s private sanctum, but I guess that particular investigation will have to wait for another day.  Oh goddess, did you get her used ones?  You are a naughty minx,” she smiled as she held the panties up to the light, letting the jewel sparkle and shine and giving them a long appraising smell, apparently approving.  “For Calistria’s sake, look at the size of these.  I knew she was a tight-ass, but even these must ride her something fierce.  So that’s how she likes it.  I wonder if they would fit…” she mused for a moment, contemplating.  She dismissed the thought, though, opening a drawer seemingly full of similar “trophies” and dropped it in.<br/><br/>“Now that that little test is out of the way, we can move on to your<em>real</em>initiation…” Arala grinned wickedly.  “Kyonin has been out of the mortal world for a very long time.  We do have a little trade city to exchange goods, culture, and pleasantries, but really, we have our own agents out in the thick of things.  To be more precise, Calistria has her agents.  Our neighbor to the east, the human nation<em>Galt</em>—” just the abrupt guttural human monosyllable was distasteful to the throat, “seems to be in a state of perpetual revolution against itself.  If the revolutionaries could just settle down and recognize that they’re the established incumbents now, we could all move on.  But they always have to see themselves as fighting against some imagined tyranny, even if they’re creating it themselves.  There happens to be a native organization of Calistria there, the Order of Vengeance.  It’s a bit on the nose, but…” she shrugs.  “They’re concentrating on reclaiming Galt from the revolutionary council, by force if necessary, or at least manipulating the other counter-revolutionaries and neighbors.  This is where the Wasp Queens come in:  we come in, deniable foreign assets, and steal the plans, evidence, and blackmail materials of the leading council and their leader, the ‘humble” Citizen Goss.  With that, the Order can frustrate their goals and feed them to their own bloodthirsty base of populists, who really just want to see more executions of their ‘enemies,’ no matter how that’s defined.  We’ve already got our team together, you may have come across them at the temple: Tamarie, the face, Faunra, the muscle, and Kieyanna, the magic.  And all experienced thieves as well.  Tomorrow you all will travel to Galt, rendezvous with the Order, burgle the council, and see what else you can steal for the guild.”<br/><br/>Arala stood from the tea-table and approached a dresser.  It pulled open without apparent lock, though the inner frame was lined with runes of identification and protection.  Pulling out a delicate jingling purse, she walked right up next to Alice, placing it right against her chest, Arala’s hand warm around the cool silk.  “Here’s some money for supplies, per diem, whatever, it’s yours for this little task, and for whatever you might need for tomorrow.  Or just get yourself something pretty!  Just meet the others at the temple tomorrow morning—” she seemed to think better of it, “make that noon.  Hopefully they’ll be ready by then.  Have fun, don’t get killed.  As for right now, I have a date with my little trophy you so thoughtfully provided,” she smiled at the thought and gave Alice three kisses in farewell: one on each cheek, and one rather less modest on the lips.<br/><br/>In the purse, Alice would find twenty six platinum coins, a good amount for her scavenger hunt test, and easily exchanged in Iadara for potions, supplies, equipment, or just exotic luxuries to enjoy before her real work began.