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Female Mòrag Stainbringer (Nobody Expects the Desperate Inquisition Part 2)

(Note: Contains story spoilers up to chapter 4)

With thanks to DerivativeWings for editing. Check out his Planet of Desperation series starting here.

Some time later, and the hot springs trip was over. Now fully-dressed and back in the comfort of the inn, the girls stood in the hall outside their room and continued their small talk from earlier. However, Mòrag was not standing among them for this part of this conversation. Instead, she stood at the end of the hall where the lavatory was located, not quite next to the door, but close enough that she could quickly reach it as soon as its current occupant left.

The time between their dip and now had felt like hours to Mòrag. Nobody wanted to leave the water’s soothing embrace for a long time, and then came the lengthy ordeal that was toweling off and putting on her inquisitor uniform, making sure every last part of it was immaculate before leaving the changing rooms. Now, all that separated her from a long overdue visit to the toilet was a locked door, and the pungent scent of someone on the other side handling their business.

“Lady Mòrag?”

Hearing this, Mòrag furrowed her brow as yet another potential obstacle presented itself. She quickly relaxed her face, stood up straight with her hands behind her back, and turned around to see Lady Brighid, her Blade, behind her.

“Yes, Brighid?” said Mòrag, not a hint of annoyance in her voice. “Did you need something?”

“I just wished to know how your bath went,” Brighid replied.

That’s a rather odd request, thought Mòrag. “It went well enough. Warm water, pleasant company. Not a lot to comment on, really.” Aside from a particular event, she mentally added.

“I am happy to hear that,” said Brighid, “And did you have any issues with being… unclothed in front of the others?”

Mòrag shook her head. “I have not had trouble with that since my schooling days. I owe a lot to you for that, actually.”

“Well, thank you,” said Brighid, putting the back of her hand to her chin. “So what, may I ask, is the source of your tension, then?”

“Tension? I beg your pardon?” Mòrag asked. Is there seriously a crack in my composure?

“I’ve been your Blade for long enough to know when there is something amiss about you.” Brighid leaned in. “Please, you need not hide whatever burden you’re carrying from me.”

She always could see right through me, thought Mòrag while looking into Brighid’s closed eyes. She also realized that her companion was correct; much as Mòrag was tempted to lie and claim she was just fine, Brighid was not someone who deserved to be lied to. Besides, it was such a minor issue, why lie about it?

“Well, in truth, I do have something causing me a bit of stress,” said Mòrag. “But it is a minor problem, one that should hopefully be resolved very shortly.”

“And what is this problem of yours?”

Must I really say it out loud? thought Mòrag, glancing away. Brighid might have helped her out with her nudity issues, but admitting her need to use a restroom was something she had never been able to manage before. Not that Brighid could have helped her with that; it was a miracle that nobody, least of all her Blade, had caught on to this flaw of hers. Her roundabout way of admitting to it was the best she could do at the moment.

“Lady Mòrag?”

“Well, that problem…” muttered Mòrag. As dishonest as it might have been, she couldn’t help but hope for a distraction of some sort.

As she would later learn that night, she had to be careful about what she wished for.

The walls and floors suddenly rumbled and shook, causing the paintings and other decorations to rattle and fall off the walls. Everyone in the hallway looked about, raising their arms out of instinct.

“W-whoa! What’s going on?” asked Pyra down the hall.

“Seriously? We’re doing this again?” yelled Nia.

The lavatory door swung open, and out ran Tora with a piece of toilet paper stuck to his foot. “Meh-meh! Who make inn all shakey-shakey? Tora in worst possible place for that to happen!” he yelled, dancing in place.

He was soon joined by Rex, Dromarch, and Azurda, who all ran out of the men’s bedroom. “M-Mòrag, this doesn’t normally happen in Mor Ardain, does it?” asked Rex.

“Not in the least,” said Mòrag.

“We need to investigate this now,” said Brighid.

Mòrag nodded. “Agreed. Let’s move!”

Thoughts of using the bathroom were pushed into the recesses of Morag’s mind as she, Brighid, and the rest of the party made their way downstairs. Her duty to protect Mor Ardain always came first, especially over something as trivial as needing to relieve herself.

As the party passed through the inn’s front doors, they were greeted with panicked citizens running every which way, but mostly flowing from the middle of the city outwards. The rumbling, now accompanied with the sound of several roars and screeches, only felt stronger out on the streets.

“I-Inquisitor Mòrag! Lady Brighid!”

The group turned to the voice and spotted an Ardainian soldier running up to them, stopping only to catch his breath. “I’m glad you’ve turned up. Things are a right mess now!”

“Report, soldier. What is the cause of this commotion?” asked Mòrag.

“R-right.” The soldier stood at attention. “There’s been a breach in our defenses. Several monsters have crossed Midorl Bridge and are rampaging through the city!”

“How is that possible?” asked Brighid, “That bridge should be under heavy guard at all times.”

“It is, ma’am, but it seems a tribe of ignas have coordinated an attack. We’re not sure how, but they’ve got the monsters all worked up in a frenzy.”

“What would cause ignas to mount an attack?” asked Brighid, putting a hand to her chin. “Could this possibly be the work of anti-imperialists?”

“Maybe Torna is behind this?” suggested Rex.

“Perhaps, but we’ve not the time to discern the cause. We must get the situation under control and protect the civilians,” said Mòrag, turning to the party. “I understand this is an Ardainian matter, but could I possibly ask you all for your assistance? I fear Alba Cavanich will need all the help it can get should Torna be involved.”

Rex raised a fist. “Of course you can! We’ll do whatever we can to keep everyone safe.”

“Tora and Poppi will help the innocent like true Driver and Blade!” declared Tora as he and Poppi puffed out their chests and put their hands on their hips.

“Count me in, too,” said Nia, “I never like sitting on the sidelines when there’s fighting to be done.”

Ever ready to help out, this crew, thought Mòrag. “Very well. Rex, Tora, I need you and your Blades to secure the marketplace. Nia, Dromarch, I need you to join Brighid and me in protecting the bridge to Hardhaigh Palace. Keep the collateral damage to a minimum, but do whatever you need to keep the civilians  safe.” She threw her arm out and declared “Move out!”

Nods and shouts in the affirmative rang out as the party separated to carry out their tasks. None were more determined than Mòrag, however; her home was under attack, and she would do anything to keep it safe from harm. Whatever reason those ignas had for invading, they were about to wish they had never set foot in the capital.

 


 

While not quite the top dogs of Mor Ardain’s indigenous creatures, ignas were nonetheless feared for their brutality and strength in numbers. Battles against them were no light matter, as their relentless might could easily overwhelm the unprepared fighter.

But as Mòrag and the rest of Mor Ardain eagerly demonstrated, brute force was hardly a match for proper training and tactics. At the very least, Ardainian weaponry outclassed anything the ignas could manage. That fact could not be made any clearer as Mòrag’s whip sword struck an igna clear across the head, sending the creature straight to the ground, never to rise again.

As she paused to collect herself, Mòrag saw that the rest of the fight was going much the same way. Nia danced around a frenzied scorpox, dodging a strike of its tail before leaping over and delivering a decisive slash across its back. Meanwhile, the rest of the nearby Ardainian forces opened fire on two griffoxes that had pushed their way forward. It was not enough to kill, but they turned tail and ran back, having clearly gotten the message.

With that, the plaza in front of Hardhaigh Palace’s bridge was devoid of invaders. All that could be heard around them was the fighting going on in other parts of the city and the crackling of the blue flame barricade that Brighid had set up.

“Plaza is secure, Special Inquisitor!” yelled a guard.

“I see,” said Mòrag, sheathing her swords. “Our next move should be to push forward. Front team, move up and assist our forces in the market. Rear team, maintain your positions with me.”

“Yes, ma’am!” responded all the soldiers as they carried out their orders without hesitation.

As this happened, Nia sheathed her ring blades as she and Dromarch walked back to the party. “So are we to continue guarding this bridge as well?” asked Dromarch.

“I hope not,” commented Nia, “Standing around’s not really my thing.”

How does that not surprise me? thought  Mòrag. “Sorry to disappoint, but we cannot risk leaving the bridge unguarded. Perhaps we will have to move later, but for now, the best course of action is for us to stay here and continue ho-ooooh!”

It hit her harder than any blow the ignas could muster. Her need to relieve herself, completely forgotten in the chaos of battle, had returned stronger than ever. The painful surge forced her to a complete standstill, her hands curling up with visible tension while her entire body went rigid in its efforts to keep her urine from spilling out right there and then.

“Lady Mòrag!”

Mòrag could only grit her teeth in response to Brighid’s voice and footsteps moving towards her. Her mind, calm and clear during the battle, now raced with panic. It was highly possible that she would not be able to hide her urge to urinate from the others now, assuming they had not figured it out on their own. This did not even factor in just how she was going to properly relieve herself, either. She was in the middle of the city, with nothing resembling a public restroom nearby, and even if there was, what message would it send to the troops for the Special Inquisitor to abandon a crucial situation because she needed the potty?

“You alright over there, Mòrag?” came Nia’s voice as she ran up to her as well.

“Nngh, I…” she tried to speak, but even talking proved difficult from the strain. Was this it, she wondered? Would she truly have to admit to everyone how close to wetting herself she was?

“Eeeyaaahh!”

Drivers and Blades alike turned in the direction of the scream, youthful, panicked, and nearby. Once more, Mòrag’s pee predicament was forced to the back of her mind as far more important matters arose.

“A child?” said Brighid.

“It sounded like it came from the alleys,” said Dromarch.

“We need to move, now!” yelled Mòrag. “Nia, Dromarch, stay and guard the bridge. Brighid and I will handle this ourselves.”

If anyone had an objection, Mòrag did not hear it. She did not know where it came from, but she found the strength to pick herself back up and rush forward, running as fast as her legs could move. The pain from her bladder persisted, but it didn’t matter now, not when lives were in danger.

Right behind her, Brighid muttered only a quick “Lady Mòrag” before rushing to join her.

Soon enough, Mòrag and Brighid were running through the alleys of Alba Cavanich, turning their heads every which way to find the source of the scream. The pain from her bladder pulsed as rapidly as her heartbeat, with every step making her hold weaker and weaker, but still she pushed on. Just a little longer, she thought, Please hold out…

“Help, someone!”

This cry went out just as the two rounded the corner, and they quickly understood why. Two children, wide-eyed with fear, held each other with their backs to a railway blocking a sheer cliff. In front of them were several ignas, all brandishing weapons and letting out threatening shrieks while they closed in on the kids. It did not take an inquisitor to deduce what was about to happen next.

“Brighid!” yelled Mòrag without a moment’s hesitation as she pulled a sword out and tossed it to her Blade.

In one graceful motion, Brighid caught the sword and swung it down, sending forth a wave of blue flame. It spread into a line between the kids and the monsters, blocking them off from whatever attacks they had planned.

The kids were safe for the moment, but their move had caused the ignas to turn their snarling and weapons towards the ladies instead. Rather than cowering, however, both ladies stood tall, or at least as tall as Mòrag could bear to stand, and raised their swords in tandem.

“On my authority as Special Inquisitor, I demand that you leave the city now, or suffer the consequences!” threatened Mòrag.

As she had expected but not hoped for, the lizardmen were not deterred by her words, choosing instead to yell and lunge forward. Ignas were known for not backing down from a fight, no matter how foolish doing so would be.

Gritting her teeth, Mòrag took her other sword back from Brighid and swung them to the sides, extending them like long, fiery tendrils. Meanwhile, Brighid fell back and began channeling her ether into Mòrag, filling her swords with a burning energy.

A battle quickly ensued, fast and frantic, as weapons and fire flew every which way. The ignas had Mòrag outnumbered and surrounded, but such poor odds were not uncommon for her. Worse had challenged her before, yet she remained triumphant through it all. The ignas did not have any hope of beating her.

At least, that’s how it should have been. As it was, the nimble and masterful Special Inquisitor was having difficulty staying light on her feet. In addition to the pain in her bladder becoming unbearable, all that pressure weighed her down to where she felt as sluggish as the Mor Ardain titan itself. Much of her defense came from swinging the whips around her, protecting her and Brighid like a ring of fire and steel.

It was not as professional or elegant as she would have liked, but it was getting results. Two of the ignas had been felled already, and as Mòrag let out a cry and a downward slash with both blades, a third monster soon hit the ground.

“Aah!”

But right as it did so, something also dropped, right into Mòrag’s undergarments. It was only a spurt, but that alone was unacceptable to her, causing her breathing to run ragged and heart to beat faster.

Her panic lasted only a moment, but even that was too long in the heat of battle. Her distraction allowed an igna to leap in from the side and deliver a powerful jumping kick to her shoulder, too strong for her to maintain balance. With another yelp, she fell to the ground, her swords falling out of her hands and the flow of ether breaking up. That small bit of warmth in her knickers was instantly forgotten from the blunt pain of the kick.

“Lady Mòrag!” cried Brighid, immediately motioning to rush towards her Driver. Unfortunately, the remaining ignas were already ahead of her, as they jumped in front of her with weapons drawn, ready to divide and conquer the duo.

Meanwhile, Mòrag had just glanced up from her shock to find the igna that kicked her now standing above her, raising its sword up to deal a decisive strike. Was this really how it would end for her, she wondered: on her knees in a random alley, her bladder fit to burst, defeated by a wild monster out of sheer negligence ?

But then she heard the roar of a tiger and saw a ringed blade slash the igna straight across the head, taking the creature out of the battle. Never had Mòrag been happier for someone to have disobeyed a direct order.

At the same time, a fiery blast erupted from both of Brighid hands, sending the last couple ignas smacking into the wall and slumping over defeated. Even without weapons, a Blade was far from defenseless.

It was only after the fight that Brighid noticed their reinforcements. “Nia? Dromarch?”

“Dromarch, can you get those kids to safety?” asked Nia, sheathing her weapons.

“At once, my lady,” he replied as he set off. The protective wall of fire had died out around the children, allowing him to calm them down and escort them out of the alleys.

While this happened, Brighid turned to Nia and asked “Weren’t you both ordered to remain at the bridge?”

Nia crossed her arms. “I told you, I don’t like standing around when there’s enemies to fight.” She looked away from Brighid and added, “But nevermind that, is she alright?”

Brighid gasped as she remembered what she was going to do before the attack. “Lady Mòrag!” she called out while running up to her.

Mòrag had barely moved from her spot since getting kicked there. She had heard Brighid yelling for her, but the immense pain she felt kept her from making a proper response. However, this pain was not from the kick; she had taken far worse in her career and could still carry about like nothing happened. No, this pain was localized solely between her legs, and far more stressful than a mere kick.

“Mòrag, are you okay? Please speak to me!” said Brighid, kneeling down to her eye level and placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Is… is it over?” Mòrag finally mumbled.

“E-Excuse me?” asked Brighid.

“Are the monsters gone? Is everyone safe?”

Brighid glanced away to listen to her surroundings. “Y-yes, I believe so. I can’t hear anymore commotion.”

“Yeah, it’s all quiet now,” said Nia, her ears moving about. “Couldn’t even hear any fighting from the market before I left.”

“G-Good,” Mòrag muttered, keeping her head down. The civilians were safe, and damage to the city and palace had been minimized. This meant she could now put her focus solely on her bladder, which she highly doubted would end nearly as well. At this point, every bit of her strength was put into holding back the inevitable flood. She could not move an inch, let alone stand up and search for a toilet, or else her shaky hold would come crashing down. Despite having braved several dangerous creatures in battle, the thought of losing control in front of the others now filled her with more dread than any monster.

“Lady Morag,” said Brighid.

“W-what is it?” she replied.

“Let it go.”

Mòrag’s eyes lifted up. “Er, beg your p-pardon?” Did she just…

Brighid looked at her right in the eyes, even as they remained shut. “Please, don’t strain yourself any further. Just let it out. I won’t think less of you for it.”

“B-brighid…” Time seemed to stop while Mòrag stared into Brighid’s closed eyes. Her Blade, the personification of elegance and grace, was giving her permission to relieve herself here and now? This night had taken quite the bizarre turn, to say the least.

But she couldn’t do that, as much as she wanted to. She was the Special Inquisitor of Mor Ardain, a top representative for the empire. To just go and wet herself was too far beneath her, too disgraceful, too humiliating, too…

Mòrag let out a small gasp. No matter what her mind thought, her heart and bladder had decided for her. She could feel the warmth growing in her undergarments and passing through to her trousers, despite any effort she could make to stop it. It was happening in this very moment, and all she could do was make peace with it.

And so, Mòrag closed her eyes and mouthed the words “thank you” as she abandoned the last of her attempts to hold it. Right away, the leak grew into a full stream, strong enough to create the sound of water running against fabric as well as a gentle hiss. The wetness, once localized to the innermost part of her groin, spread outwards and covered her backside before pooling into a puddle that grew to cover the back of her legs, the moonlight and alley lamp leaving it visible for anyone to see should they look her way. Before too long, her coat-tails became damp and heavy from resting atop the puddle, and even her gloves grew wet from clutching her soaked groin.

Such an act should have instilled only shame and humiliation in the inquisitor, and it did, but for the moment, it could not hold a candle to the relief she now felt. Mòrag’s shut eyes lifted upwards and a hum sounded in her throat at the bliss of her overfilled bladder finally shrinking back down to a comfortable, unstressed level. It was such a crude thing to derive pleasure from, and yet not even someone of her stature could deny how good it felt to address a basic need after neglecting it for so long.

Outside Mòrag’s world of relief, the other ladies could only stare in disbelief and silence for the whole minute it took for her to finishing emptying. While Brighid remained kneeled and ignored the puddle slowly edging closer to her foot, Nia’s eyes and mouth both hung open, and even she felt her cheeks turning red, though it did not compare to the blush on Mòrag’s face.

“W-well then,” said Nia towards the end, “When Brighid said ‘let it out’, this was not what I was expecting.”

In an instant, Nia’s voice jerked Mòrag out of her bliss. Her eyes snapped open, and the cold weight of reality pressed down on her hard. The pride of the empire had just pissed her uniform, and now sat in her waste like an intoxicated vagrant. She could not look more pathetic if she wore nothing at all. Even Emperor Niall, her own brother, would surely think the same if he saw her now.

“N-Nia, Brighid,” she started in a shaky voice, the brim of her hat hiding her eyes from the others.

“How are you feeling now?” asked Brighid in a calm tone. “I was worried you were going to hurt yourself if you tried holding it any longer.”

Any longer? “How long did you know about my… predicament?”

“I had my suspicions at the inn, but they weren’t confirmed until a few minutes ago. Like I said, I know when something’s wrong with you, my lady.”

“I see…” Mòrag’s eyes drifted further away from the two. “Perhaps I am not as fit for this position as I once thought.”

“Why? Because you chose to save a bunch of kids over not peeing your pants?” asked Nia.

“That should not even be a choice in the first place, not for someone of my station,” she replied, her voice strained with frustration. “No other Special Inquisitor would have made an error so egregious.”

“Lady Mòrag, please don’t criticize yourself so harshly,” said Brighid, “Your leadership tonight proved to everyone why you deserve to be the Special Inquisitor.”

“Seriously, if not for you, there’s no telling how many more people might have gotten hurt,” said Nia.

Mòrag let out a sigh. “You may be right, but regardless, I let my pride cloud my common sense tonight. The people are fortunate that this is the worst to happen because of it.”

“Pride?” asked Nia, “So that’s why you didn’t just wee off the cliff with Pyra and me earlier?”

“You… did what?” Brighid turned and raised a hand to her mouth.

“Er, right, you weren’t there for that.” Nia rubbed the back of her head. “Look, I get it, Mòrag, you’ve got to keep up your appearance for the empire and all that, but you don’t need to worry about that when it’s just us. Especially not when you’re as bare-arsed as everyone else.”

Brighid nodded. “I would not have worded it in that manner, but she is right. You can’t and shouldn’t always play the part of Special Inquisitor. The person underneath the uniform needs to be taken care of as well.” She stood up and held her hand out in front of Mòrag. “And I think now would be a good time to start taking care of her.”

Nia walked up and stuck her hand out as well. “Take it from someone who wet themselves not that long ago: best thing to do is learn from it and move on. Plus, it’s really not fun wallowing in your own piss, trust me.”

Open hands, sound wisdom, and a smile on each face; the complete opposite of the consequences Mòrag had expected for her accident. Like the urine staining her trousers, it took a little bit for their words to sink into her, but once they did, the weight of all of Mor Ardain seemed to lift off her shoulders. It was not by a lot, but at least she could lift her arms and take the hands reaching out to her, letting them pull her up to her feet and out of the puddle.

“Nia, Brighid,” she spoke, standing tall and making eye contact with the ladies once again. “I am truly indebted to you both. I promise you, I will find a way to repay you for your kind words.”

“Please, think nothing of it,” said Brighid, waving a hand, “It is enough for me to see you standing tall once more.”

“You’ve already seen me with wet pants, so we’ll just call it even,” said Nia, pausing to stretch her arms out and yawn. “Well, I don’t know about you all, but I think we’ve earned us some shut-eye.”

Mòrag shook her head. “Unfortunately, I cannot retire for the night. I need to assess the damage and open an investigation to the ignas’ motives straight away.”

“So what, you’re just gonna do all that in wet knickers?” asked Nia with a raised eyebrow.

“If I must for the sake of this city,” she responded, her composure unwavering even as her face remained red and her thoughts filled with people giving her weird looks.

“Even so, it would not reflect well on the empire for the Special Inquisitor to walk around in urinated trousers,” said Brighid, “I advise we at least get you into a fresh uniform before we speak with any of the soldiers.”

Mòrag glanced down at her legs. While her black clothes and the night darkness would hide her accident from sight, anyone near her would notice the unmistakable scent of urine upon her. Holding out her hands, she could see a hint of yellow on her white gloves, more evidence that would remove all doubt as to what befell her.

“Perhaps a change of clothes would be in order, then,” she responded. “Could you escort me back to the inn?”

“It would be my pleasure,” said Brighid.

“I was headed back there, anyway,” said Nia.

“Then let us move quickly before someone else becomes privy to this incident.”

The party turned and stepped forward, with Brighid leading and Nia following behind to keep Mòrag covered on both sides. However, they did not get more than a couple steps away when they all came to a stop with their faces full of worry.

A lone Ardainian soldier stood before the party, his helmet hiding his face along with the thoughts and emotions that could be gleaned from it.

“Er, how long have you been standing there?” Brighid asked.

As if waking from a daydream, the soldier immediately snapped to the attention. “Ah, Lady Brighid! Special Inquisitor! I-I won’t say a word of this to anyone, on my honor as an Ardainian soldier!”

“That is… good to hear,” said Mòrag. “Did you have anything to report, private?”

“Well, there was a small request from the whole platoon and me, for your consideration.”

Mòrag and Brighid exchanges glances. “And what is this request?” Mòrag responded.

At this, the soldier yelled his request loud enough for all of Mor Ardain for hear, forever entrenching it within the memories of its citizens.

“DON’T FORGET ME!”



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34 minutes ago, ics142857 said:

Please, PLEASE tell me this is going to be a full series.

This little story with Mòrag is more or less done, but I may not be done with writing Xenoblade 2 stories just yet...

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21 minutes ago, MasterXploder said:

This little story with Mòrag is more or less done, but I may not be done with writing Xenoblade 2 stories just yet...

Good to hear.

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