“It’s not racism,” said Regina. “It’s sexism. I should be in charge, but men are too threatened by a powerful woman.” She flexed her bulging bicep, then drew her knife and jammed it handle deep through the thick wooden table with one strike. “It doesn’t help any that I’m flawlessly beautiful. That only threatens them more.”

Frank and Gabel chuckled.

She sneered. “Do you disagree?”

“Oh, you’re beautiful,” said Gabel, “but I think it’s a little much to say you’re flawless.”

“Someone’s got a high opinion of herself,” Frank pretended to say to a passing soldier who hadn’t been privy to the conversation.

Regina’s cold, black eyes darkened. “What’s wrong with me?”

The orc and the ogre glanced at one another. “Nothing,” they said in unison.

“It’s just, well, you’re a bit… how do I put this?” asked Frank.

“Manly,” said Gabel.

Regina threw her mug at him, but he ducked out of the way.

“Do these look manly?” She arched her back to emphasize her ample bosom. “Or this?” She undid the knot atop her head, and a golden cascade of silken hair tumbled past her shoulders. “Or this?” She pulled back her skirt to show her long, perfectly proportioned leg. Some of the nearby soldiers leered.

She grabbed the closest orc by the neck and drew him close to her snarling lips. “Am I not a vision of feminine magnificence?”

He nodded and gulped.

Her sneer deepened. “Would you not give both your eyes for a single hour alone with me?”

He hesitated, and she tightened her grip.

“Maybe one eye,” the orc answered.

“Only one?”

He winced apologetically. “I prefer brunettes.”

Regina tossed him across the pub. She shouted to the room. “Who here thinks I’m the most beautiful woman they’ve ever seen?”

The pub fell silent. Finally a soldier dared raise his hand. She stalked over, thanked him, and knocked him out with a brutal uppercut.